Ahhhhhh...

That's my sigh of relief and relaxation. Bear and I are back from our weekend away (we got back Sunday afternoon). We had a fabulous time. The land did not fail to work its magic on me; I was relaxed the moment we arrived.

Tide Mill Farms is an interesting place, and one that always has something (usually several somethings) going on. No one was home at my aunt's house except the cholocate lab Annabelle, so after saying hello to her we headed down to the barn. My cousin Aaron was there moving hay bales with his tractor before starting the afternoon milking. His wife and children pulled up in their van on their way to the public pool in town and stopped to say hi. I said hello and hugged the little ones, then headed into the barn to play with the calves before watching the milking process.

Baby cows are the most adorable little things in the world. Aaron is trying to increase his herd size, so every spring there are dozens of calves to admire:

Those ones are cute, aren't they? But there was one calf named Bitsey who totally and utterly stole my heart:

Bitsey has an underbite so her teeth poke out and give her the most comical expression. Isn't she adorable? I wanted to take her home, but was reminded that she wouldn't stay small and cute forever. Sigh. Oh well. I know where she lives and can come visit her any time.

After watching the milking, Bear and I wandered around the coastline for a while. Tide Mill Farms has 1,700 acres and over a mile of shoreline. Their land has fields, forests, mountains, rivers, a dam, ocean frontage... they've got everything. Some pics of the afternoon:

That night at dinner (steak, hamsteak, fresh salad greens, peas, potatoes and raw milk) Bear and I caught up on farm happenings. We learned that the eagles were nesting in the front field (as they have been for over a dozen years now), that the children have been doing tons of fun things as part of their homeschooling (including learning to play violins!), and that life, in general, keeps going. Dinner was filling, the company was terrific, and we got a great chance to catch up. In the morning after milking, Bear and I headed to Aaron and his wife Carly's house to wrangle some pigs and then watch the children while Carly ran an errand in town. The pig wrangling wasn't as exciting as it sounds - we were trying to get three male pigs into a trailer to be slaughtered and leave the girl pigs in their pen. The male pigs weren't having it, though, and totally ignored all of our attempts to move/herd them. Carly did get them in the trailer later that day when they were hungry. So we watched three of the ninth generation while Aaron and Carly did their things. The three kids - Hailey, 8, Paige, 6, and Henry, 3 - were utterly exhausting. They have tons of energy and were all over the place. It was terrific, though. The girls played their violins for us, I made them lunch, we all hung out in the living room, and generally had a good time. The kids are so SMART they amaze me.

Of course, after watching the kids I needed a nap so I went back to my aunt's house and did that while Bear helped out with the afternoon milking. Another fantastic dinner of spaghetti, bread, and more salad greens, and I was ready for bed. Jane, Bob, Bear, and I did all hang out at the kitchen table and talk for a while, though. It is so nice to be in their house - the kitchen is where you want to be, sipping coffee, admiring the view, petting Annabelle, and visiting. I dream about that kitchen when I'm not there. Nowhere else feels quite so homey.

On Sunday we had flying pancakes for breakfast. A favorite of mine since I was very small, flying pancakes are blueberry pancakes that are flung from the stove to the table - a distance of about twelve feet. My uncle Bob is an amazing pancake flyer - he can get them to the table from over his shoulder, under his leg... I was trying to be grown up and not ask for them this time, but they must have known I wanted them because I got them. They were delicious! I caught one pic of Bob mid-fling:

We took a quick trip to West Quoddy Head Lighthouse, the Easternmost tip of the United States. The lighthouse is fantastic and we had the place to ourselves. We took lots of pictures of that, too:

We got back to the farm around noon, loaded up the car with our stuff and some organic meat and milk and took our leave. It was sad to say goodbye to the farm and to my family, especially since it was three years between the last trip and this one. I hope it isn't that long between trips again. This place is just such a part of me. I hate being away from it. Hopefully soon we will get a chance to get back there. Until then, I have my memories, and my pictures, and some pork sausage in my freezer. Life is good.

Temptation, Thy Name is Bear

I love my husband. He is very good to me. And usually, he is good *for* me - I believe he makes me a better person.

Except when he doesn't.

Except when he tempts me with something fun and fabulous, but will mean I have to break a rule. Lie. Do something I'm not supposed to.

This is what's happening right now.

You see, we are leaving Friday afternoon to go to my Aunt and Uncle's farm in Washington County, Maine. As soon as I am home from teaching, we will hop in the car and drive to the coast. My husband has decided that he is taking the whole day off ...

And he wants me to do it, too.

And he makes some really good arguments.

If I take Friday off, I will:

• Get french toast, bacon, and coffee for breakfast - and he'll bring it to me in bed.
• Have $20 to spend at Fiberphilia, Orono's yarn store.
  
• Get extra time on the coast - towns like Machias, Eastport, and more.
  
• Maybe go to Machias' yarn store, too.
• Have to spend less time in a vehicle (I have tendinitis in my legs which makes sitting for long periods excruciatingly painful).
• Make my husband very, very, happy.

It's that last one that gets me. I want to make him happy, and I know that we will have a fabulous time. But it's the Friday before April vacation and I know it will look suspicious if I am not here at school that day. I have the sick time (so will just have to call out sick), but it's tough to do. I also have to make sub plans for that day, and it is difficult to give kids something worthwhile to do that a sub can administer. Because subs really aren't good at thinking for themselves. Or at following directions.

I'm not sure yet what I'm going to do. I may try to schedule a doctor's appointment for that morning so that I can get all the fun things, but also legitimately be out of school that day. And really, wouldn't that be the best of both worlds?

One week and counting!

One more week until I leave all the backstabbing, political bullshit and go where the world makes sense. Where the ebb and flow of the tides take my stress and return tranquility. I will be surrounded by growth, renewal, and the natural way of things. People I love and who love me will be there, and together with the land will heal all the damage that's been done to me.

I will be home.

Three Strikes and I'm Probably Out

Yesterday I had very little to post, and today I have so much to post I'm not sure that I will be able to clearly articulate it all. My world was turned upside down yesterday and I'm still trying to find my footing. Here's what happened.

Yesterday afternoon my principal came into my room and shut my door. That was unusual. He sat down and said, "Something was dropped on my desk yesterday and I feel that you should know about it. I'm not sure what anything means yet, but I and a few of the teachers feel that you should be made aware, as it may affect your job." I listened as he went on to explain several seemingly disjointed pieces of news that put together, pointed in the direction that I may be "laid off" at the end of this year:

1. There is a teacher at the elementary school who's position will be eliminated due to budget cuts.
2. This teacher has wanted to teach at the high school for a number of years.
3. The superintendent asked this teacher to draft a curriculum for a creative writing class at the high school level.
   
4. This teacher has more seniority than I do.
   

What the gist is (or what I could gather) is that this teacher wants my job, but because she's full time at the elementary, she was asked to make up a class in order to be full time up here (I'm only half-time now). What *really* makes me mad is the fact that there is a first year teacher at the elementary school at could and SHOULD be laid off before me. But because this woman wants MY job, she may get it. Which means the first year teacher stays at the elementary school and the third year teacher (me) gets laid off or "downstaffed" as they call it. AND the person replacing me gets the full time position I've been asking for for THREE YEARS.

I told my principal that I wasn't surprised, and really, I'm not. This may the third teaching job out of THREE that I've lost due to someone else wanting to be where I was. It's enough to drive me straight out of education. I am just so sick of the plotting and conspiring going on behind my back. I am so fed up with being in this situation. My husband and principal have both cautioned me against overreacting, since we don't "know" anything yet. I told them both the same thing: get ready for a fight. I will file a grievance, go to the board, go to the newspapers if I have to; I will not give up my job without fighting as hard as I can to protect what I've worked so hard for. I will keep you all posted when I learn something new. Until then - wish me some luck, won't you?

Miscellany

No one cohesive thought for today, so I've organized the miscellany and posted it below:

• The conference I went to Saturday was phenomenal. I wrote a lot, was re-inspired to write, enjoyed my time among my peers. I am working on making writing a more frequent practice.
• I didn't realize how much I missed by brother and his wife until I saw them on Saturday - they are really my favorite people (excluding Bear, of course). It was awesome seeing them.
  
• I am so incredibly fortunate to have the husband I do. The more I listen to people, the more I speak with friends and family, the more I realize that my husband and my marriage are truly awesome. I'm very, very lucky to be married to someone I respect, get along with, who is a good person and a hard worker. Someone who doesn't participate in illegal activities or immoral behaviors. In short, I lucked out big time. I hope he knows how I feel.
• Many unlucky and terrible things have been happening to people I know - marriages failing, accidental deaths, mental illness, drunken psychos threatening to kill neighbors ... the world has become a sad scary place lately. Even in my small corner of the world. I just want to hug everyone until all the scariness and sadness go away.
  
• My husband has taken the giant step to go back to school. He has his diploma, but is taking more rigorous classes in preparation for enrolling in college. I am so proud of him! I know he will make as exceptional a student as he does a man.
  
• I am looking forward to this spring and summer as a time that I can renew my running. I didn't realize how much I missed it until I went for a walk on Monday. It was hard not to break out into a run right then. I miss the feeling of movement, of accomplishing something difficult, of each day making it further than I did before. I am walking this week, and next week will start back with my running program. It's the same program I used last time, although I hope to be able to start at week two instead of week one like last year.
  

That's all I've got - what are you up to?

Already April

It's April. Has been for three days now. I am in a state of shock over it, honestly, since I spend my days in a fog of work and exhaustion. I measure my time by how many days it is until my next day off, and plod through each day until I get there. I am fortunate in that I have only today to get through this time, because I have the entire weekend off (insert happy banana dance here). I won't get much rest tomorrow since I'm headed down state to a conference, but the conference is one I am looking forward to. It's called "Writing Ourselves" and it will be a chance for me to focus on myself for an entire day (and who doesn't want to do that?). I will get the added bonus of reuniting with some of my Maine Writing Project friends, whom I miss dearly. Once the conference is over, I am going to meet up with my brother and sister-in-law in Bangor for some fun times at the Sea Dog Restaurant and Pub. I have not seen either of them in months and miss them terribly. I can't WAIT to catch up with Tara!!

Sunday I have no plans. At all. I just want to hang out with my husband, to rest and relax and bond with the man who makes me happier than all others. I may even make him pancakes. Because Sunday is pancakes day and I haven't been able to enjoy pancakes day in a while because I've been working.

Speaking of working, my first official shift as "Shift Supervisor" is tonight. Eek! Wish me luck - I'm horribly nervous about it.

It's ON, Baby!

Email from my aunt today:
"The weekend of the eighteenth should work. Can't wait to see you!"

Wahoo!! Escape is gonna happen, and even SOONER than I thought. That's really the best news I received all week.

I just have to make it till then.

My Weekend

My weekend can be split into two very different days. Saturday I got up at five a.m., blearily got dressed for work and worked an 8 hour shift putting away freight after unloading it from the truck. It's exhausting work, but I thought I'd be able to go home and crash when it was over. I was wrong. Bear met me at work when it was time to go and said, "It's Teacher Appreciation weekend at Borders. I'm buying you $40 worth of stuff because you deserve it. Let's go." We got in the car and drove to Bangor. We spent about two hours in the big city (I bought three books) and then came home. Bear's best friend Snake arrived shortly after that to hang out. I was tired, but Bear had asked that I make him chocolate covered strawberries, and since I didn't know what Sunday would bring, I did it then. By nine p.m., I was falling asleep sitting up on the couch. I couldn't stop yawning or keep my eyes open. Bear and Snake were playing video games, but I had to go to bed. I gave them my apologies and went upstairs.

I slept eleven straight hours.

I woke up Sunday at about quarter past eight to sunshine streaming in my window. Bear had already risen for the day but was being quiet so I could sleep. I got out of bed and wandered downstairs. He'd made me coffee! Once I'd had some I was quite a bit perked up so I made pancakes and bacon (Sunday is pancakes day in my house). We had a leisurely breakfast, did a few minor chores, and relaxed. Bear watched t.v. while I spun on my spindle. We had a get-your-own lunch (I had salad) and then we went to bed for an hour or so in the middle of the afternoon (insert dirty thoughts here). We got back up, had an excellent dinner of chicken cordon bleu sandwiches and then together we made chocolate cake with homemade peanut butter frosting. It was delicious! Bear helped with everything, including mixing the cake batter.

Sunday was so nice and so relaxing I was able to totally recharge my batteries. I will need it, because my work schedule is going to be beyond hectic this week. I am still waiting to hear back from my aunt about my getaway (the weekend of the 24th won't work out, so I'm aiming for the weekend of the 18th), but I know that as long as I have Bear and Sundays like this last one, I'll be okay.

How was your weekend?

Escape Plan

Escape.

Running away.

Call it what you will.

I need to go.

I was driving to work this morning like any other morning when out of nowhere, I burst into tears. Suddenly, it was too much that I was going to work, that I was going to leave work at the end of the day and go immediately to my other job. That I will have to do the same thing tomorrow, and will have to be at work at 6 am on Saturday. This never-ending merry-go-round of jobs, chores, and obligations was suddenly too much, and I broke down. It doesn't happen to me often, but once I get to this point - this feeling that my life is an avalanche about to destroy me - I need to get away. Completely. To stop living my life as it is and do something totally different, even if it is just for a few days.

I hate getting to this point. I hate feeling like I am letting others down by taking care of myself. But seeing as how I'm in tears just writing this (while in study hall, no less), it's something I have to do.

The actual running away part is easy.* I know exactly where I'm going to go. The one place in this entire world where my soul is at peace. The place where I am calm, happy, in tune with nature and the world. It is Tide Mill Organic Farm - my aunt and uncle's farm in Washington County, Maine. There I will wake each morning to the sound of the ocean's tides. I will hear cows mooing and eagles' cries. I will hear the distant barking of seals and the honking of returning Canadian Geese. All around me I will feel the earth growing, and I will know that I am part of something larger. I will walk through fresh green hay fields and watch swallows build their nests in the barn. I will work the land alongside my cousins, helping wherever another pair of hands are of use. I will feel the warm sun on my face and will be renewed.

I will be home.

* Easy, yes, but soon, no. Due to my hectic schedule, I will have to postpone my trip until April 24-26. That's about five weeks from now. I will make it. I have no other choice.

Catch -22

It isn't often that my husband says something that wounds me. He tries so hard to make me happy that even when things don't go his way, he rarely says anything. It's one of the things that makes him the wonderful man that he is; it's also one of the reasons why when he does say something, it hurts.

Let me set the scene for you. We'd been hanging out on the couch, watching t.v. in our typical Sunday fashion when I decided that the light was just right to go upstairs and read in bed. Bear wasn't happy with that (he likes to spend as much of our time off together as possible), but I ran up the stairs anyway, book in hand. This new book was terrific and I couldn't put it down.

After about half an hour, Bear came up the stairs and asked if we could go for a walk. I was right in the middle of my book, and replied, "I thought you said you wanted to go later in the afternoon?"
"Yes, hon, I did. It IS afternoon! I just want to go DO something. I'm so tired of doing nothing and staying home all the time. I realize you're tired and that you want to rest. You deserve your rest. But I just want to get out once in a while."
"So go do something, then. You don't need me to go!" I was mildly offended that he was complaining about spending time with me at home. I get ONE day off a week (if I'm lucky) and here was my husband, being all ungrateful.
"No, Hon. I want to do things with you," he said. "We need to join an outing club or some organization - something."
"You know, I really can't put anything more on my plate right now." The thought of having yet another demand on my time nearly exhausted me.
"That didn't stop you from joining knit group, did it?" he said. Ouch.
"You're right. I did. And how often do I get to go? I haven't been in a month! I never get to go because I'm either working or too tired. I'm sorry that spending time at home with me isn't good for you, but I'm TIRED. I work TWO JOBS and I don' t want to go anywhere on my ONE day off!" By now I was mad. Really mad. How dare he?
At that point Bear, sensing that I wasn't interested in continuing the conversation, apologized for interrupting me, and left.
I laid there in my indignation for a while, trying to read. But my mind kept going back to our conversation. As I calmed down, I tried to look at it through his perspective. Was he right? Did we really never do anything together? I thought back over the last several trips we made: groceries, errands in town, groceries + dinner with his sister, doctor's appointment, groceries... the list continued. We really never did go out and *do* anything - at least not anything fun. Shit. Now I felt bad. I mean, the truth is that I really am tired. All the time. And when I am home, I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay in and relax. A trip to Bangor takes hours and tires me out, depleting the batteries I'm trying to recharge. I don't see any way around this. But even though I'm tired, Bear shouldn't be treated as though he is, too. I should be willing to meet him halfway, and do at least one thing of his choosing. He stays in this house we both hate so he can be with me. He does it largely without complaint and without resentment. The least I can do is attempt something that makes him happy.
So here it is - Bear, as of this week you are in charge of planning something fun for us to do each week. It is totally up to you - you name the time and place and I will be there ready to go. No complaints, no procrastination ... just enthusiasm and love. I love you and want you to be happy - as happy as you've made me. I love you Bear - let's go do something together.

Running.

Last year I lost quite a bit of weight (almost 30 pounds, for those of you who want to know). I did it by strict dieting and a whole heap of exercise. I have a recumbent bike that I rode every day for almost four months, and I took up running as well.
The bike I hated. It was hard. It made me sweaty. It made my butt hurt. And my competitive nature never let me just take it easy - I always had to go further, burn more calories, spend more time at a higher level. When I started on New Year's Day, I went just twenty minutes at level 3, for about a 300 calorie burn. When I ended I was doing no less than 500 calories and for no less than twenty minutes. Some days I got to 500 before the twenty minutes was up and had to keep going, and some days it took me almost half an hour to get there. By the end of the third month I was in tears just at the thought of getting on that damn bike. I hated it. I did eventually stop riding it after crying to my husband that I didn't want to do it any more (I had asked him to make sure that I rode it each day). Having burned myself out on it, I have only ridden it a handful of times since.
Last spring and summer I started running. I got a copy of "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Running" and faithfully followed all of the directions and tips. I stretched. I timed myself. I got a pedometer. And after a while, I started to enjoy it. I liked being able to be outside and running. I liked that I could get further each day without slowing to a walk. I liked that people noticed me and commented on my running when they saw me in town. I loved the way I felt after a run. Hot and sweaty, yes, but also happy. Accomplished. I even competed in a 5k race last summer. I came in almost dead last, but I did it.

But the cold season in Maine strikes hard and fast, and I was forced to give up running until the roads were safe again. Ice and snow and many hours of darkness combine to make even walking outside a risky endeavor. So I've done nothing all winter to keep myself in shape. and it shows. I'm up ten pounds. I don't feel or look as good as I did. I'm frustrated and antsy. I want to get back out and run again!

But in order to be ready for running season, I would have to get back on the bike. The bike I hate. The Bike of Extreme Pain and Suffering. The Bike of Doom. I would have to make a practice out of it, too - not just pedaling slowly once a week or less and hope that it makes a difference. Because if last year taught me anything, it was that getting and staying in shape is hard work.

So Sunday I got on the bike. I pedaled for 23 minutes at level 4, went 6.06 miles and burned 436 calories.

And you know what? It wasn't so bad.

I made sure to stretch before and after, and read a book so that I wouldn't stare at the display. I got a little sweaty, but not enough to be uncomfortable. All in all, it was not terrible. I am apparently in better shape now than I was last year at this time. So maybe while I've been avoiding the bike, my body has been conserving my strength so that when I need it this spring, it will be ready. Then again, maybe it just wanted to show me that the whining I do about the bike is really just that - whining.

So this week marks the start of my return to training. My goal is to be back to 500 calories in under 20 minutes by the end of March, which I think is totally doable. Once I can get back out onto the roads to run, I'll let you know where I am with that, too. I'm hoping to get back out there by April 1 (weather permitting). But for now, it's back to the bike for me - and this time, I'm not giving up.

I have NUMBERS!

I don't think I have mentioned it here, but a few weeks ago my manager at job #2 notified me that she was recommending me for a shift supervisor position. I was thrilled! No more plain old cashiering for me - nope! This promotion would mean that I could get my own change, that I could approve things that needed manager approval, that I could open the safes and front doors (I'd even have a code to the alarm!!). I would be on the floor each shift instead of behind the counter.
Over the past two weeks, I have been in training for the new position. I know now how to do the Daily Business Report, how to operate the safes, do money orders and a host of other things. The only thing that has been missing has been my "numbers": a six digit code that grants me access to the finer workings of the company. My training really can't be completed without it, and I've been eager to begin this final phase.

I got a voicemail today from my manager - I HAVE NUMBERS! The district manager stopped by and gave me that final piece. Now I am officially in the final stages of my training. Wahoo!

No word yet on a raise.

American Logger

Last December I wrote a post describing the road I drive in to work each day. It's a beautiful road in Northern Maine, and over the three years I've been commuting on it, it has begun to feel like my road. I feel very proprietary about it and get angry when people are on it who don't belong there.

I was delighted last Friday, though, when I turned on the Discovery Channel and saw the premier episode of American Logger. The show takes place in Millinocket - a town I drive through each day! It focuses on the Pelletier Logging Company that works in the North Maine Woods. They primarily work on the Golden Road, a privately owned road that traverses most of North West Maine, but even in that first episode they showed truckers on my road. It was awesome to see my road on National television! I am so proud. The show wasn't as accurate as I'd like (the 200,000 lb carrying trucks are only legally allowed on the Golden Road, not my road. Not everyone speaks with that French-Canadian accent that the Pelletiers do. Bonecrusher's comments? Pretty much EXACTLY how people talk around here), but most of it was pretty good. Discovery bought ten episodes with the option for more. Please check out the show - it's on Friday nights at ten p.m. I love my state and I love my road ... won't you fall in love with it, too?

Slow steady plod to solvency

Two weeks into my very tight budget and I'm learning just how much money I waste on things. Funny how I never notice how much I spend until I can't spend anything. On Sunday I spent $22 on sugar, hand lotion, a stuffed sheep for a package I'm mailing out and thumbtacks. All stuff I needed, and it came to 1/4 of $100! Why are things so expensive? I'm trying really hard to curtail my excessive spending. No, honest! Every single day, though, is a struggle. And I don't always win.
Like today. My friend Lori is selling off a lot of her fiber and yarn, and was selling some black merino (wool) for $8. It's enough to spin into the shawl I've been wanting to knit for some time now. How could I not? And since my husband reads my blog, now he knows. Sorry Honey, I couldn't resist. It just kind of happened. I'm really sorry I disappointed you. I'm not sorry I bought it, but... well, you know what I mean.

In other news, we had another snowstorm yesterday that caused school to be canceled. I spent the first few hours reading, then I knit some, then spun some as well. All in all, it was a great day. Look what I made:

A baby bootie for my friend Amanda's baby! You'll remember her as the poor woman who discovered she was pregnant after taking colitis and fibromyalgia meds? She's having a girl this May. All it needs are buttons and a mate.

Happiness can be yours for the bargain price of $800 a month!

When Bear and I first got together, our relationship moved very quickly. We had our first date in the middle of November, he first asked me to marry him at Christmas, I moved in with him the following March. The same spring I moved in with him, we started the arduous process of combining our finances. One of the things that became clear to me early on was that Bear was in a lot of financial trouble and that it wasn't his fault. You see, Bear's mother passed away when Bear was 18, after a long battle with cancer. Because she had been sick for so long, Bear had been forced to work full time as well as go to school full time just to make ends meet. It is tough to make ends meet, however, so after his mother's death Bear was stuck with a pile of past due bills. We talked a lot about the bills he had in collections, and how he couldn't get a loan to pay them off because they had ruined his credit score. My credit was excellent, however, so we hatched a plan for me to take out a $10,000 dollar loan and pay off most of his debt and a bit of mine as well. The loan was for three years and had a monthly payment amount of $351.52.

We have been paying that amount each month for nearly our entire relationship. It was supposed to be paid off this summer, but due to life getting in the way (doesn't it always?), we are a few months behind. This loan has become a pain in our collective ass. We want more than anything to get the frigger paid off so we can put that money towards other things.

Last week while Bear and I were both not working (his last week of layoff, my Feb. vacation), we hatched a plan. A budget that will get the loan paid off in August, just one month later than originally planned. It means, however, that instead of paying #351.52 a month, from March to August we will be paying $800 a month.

Eight hundred dollars a month.

Holy Shit.

On the one hand, I'm thrilled that we found that much money in our budget to throw at our debt. I didn't realize we had that much left over after bills are paid. On the other hand, though, it makes things *very* tight for us for the entire spring and most of the summer months. It means fewer camping trips and cookouts, fewer yarn and fiber purchases, fewer adventures in the world together. I'm slowly becoming accustomed to this, but it hasn't been easy. I know that this is important and that we are doing what's best for us. But I am going to need a lot of help in putting my debit card away for the next six months. A lot of help. Any ideas for things we can do on the cheap?

Yesterday's Snowstorm

I'm back in school today. I took the truck to work, but the roads weren't all that bad, considering that we got 28.1" of snow yesterday. I will have to have Bear take a pic of me in front of the snowbank at the end of our driveway - it's taller than I am. I did take some pictures for you to enjoy. Especially Alice who is in Georgia and doesn't get snow like this:
For a frame of reference, the two windows that are nearly buried are my livingroom windows. The bottom of the sill is supposed to be eye level. I had to shovel them out so we could have some light in the house.

I'm ready for spring!!

Back to school - Just kidding!

Today was supposed to be my first day back to school, but thanks to about twenty inches of snow that fell overnight, vacation has been extended by a day. We are supposed to get another five to ten inches today as well. This afternoon I will take some pictures after I snowblow the driveway so you can see how much snow we have right now. As for now, I've had my breakfast and my coffee so I think I'll do a quick load of dishes and then knit.

I love snow days!!

Go Baby, Go!

This morning my husband isn't at home. He's not working, and he hasn't gone on yet another grocery run.

This morning, my husband is beginning his back-to-school adventure.

As I type this, he is at a computer in the local adult ed office, taking the Accuplacer test. Once he finishes that, he can begin taking the classes he will need so that he can go on to college.

I am so proud of him.

Congratulations, Baby, on starting this new journey. I love you - and I'm behind you all the way.

Sick.

"I wish I could say something witty and inspirational, but that just wouldn't be our style."
~Keanu Reeves in The Replacements.

That's how I feel. Sick. I have my first cold in a couple of years and it is pummeling me nearly senseless. I'm a terrible sick person. I'm whiney, I'm needy, I want everyone to pity me, pet me on the head and make me grilled cheese sandwiches and hot cocoa. I want people to press their palms to my forehead and tell me that it's warm (even if it isn't). I want to lay on the couch and watch brainless t.v. and look as pitiful as possible so that people will take care of me.

None of that happens, of course. Instead I take Tylenol Severe Cold and drive to school where I attempt to speak loudly enough that the kids can hear me. I pretend not to notice that they watch me blow my nose again and again and that they laugh when my voice cracks. I go to my other job and tell people I'm well when they ask how I am. I keep working and taking meds and hoping that I'll feel better soon. Because I have to.

But that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it. Or that my blog posts need to be very witty or inspirational. Because it's just too much.

I think I need a grilled cheese sandwich.

Week #2

Bear has been laid off for almost two weeks now. He's said more than once that he's ready to go back to work, but I'm not sure I'm ready for him to go back. In the last week he totally redecorated/renovated my craft room (see my other blog for pictures), cleaned the house (it's SPOTLESS), organized a bunch of things that really needed it (including the food cupboards which were a mess), and even done laundry.

I could get used to this!

It hasn't been perfect - I had to work both jobs yesterday and he was definitely not happy when I finally got home and got on the computer instead of cuddling him on the couch. I hope to make it up to him tonight. He has also been battling a nasty cold that settled into his chest and has been making life pretty miserable for my dear Bear.

Overall, though, I think this layoff has been more good than bad - and I had no idea that I would ever be saying that.

Bear and I in front of the storage area he built me last week.

Day 2

Yesterday when I got home from work, I smelled it. The smell of fresh paint. I love that smell. That means that what was old is now new. I raced up the stairs to find Bear in my craft room. In place of the old wood paneling was a brand new coat of white primer paint. It was BEAUTIFUL. Bear was in the middle of the room, paintbrush in hand. He turned to look at me.

"Hey, Hon," he said. Nonchalantly, as though he wasn't at all the amazing hero I knew him to be.

"Babe, this looks aMAZing!" I squealed. The afternoon sun reflected of the bright white walls, casting light into every corner of the room.

"There's still a lot left to do, but it's getting there," he said. "You wanna help?"

Did I ever. Together we dipped paint brushes into the can of primer and got started on the second coat. He was sweet and took the little brush so I could use the big one. He even let me use one of his old long sleeved shirts so I wouldn't be cold in the drafty room. As we worked side by side (I did the low places, he did the high ones), we discussed what the next steps of the project - what would I want here, would this be okay there, etc. We left it to dry overnight and went downstairs to make dinner.

Over dinner, I asked Bear what else he'd done during the day.
"I transfered all 400 mp3s from your old computer to the flashdrive, I got the mail, I did a load of dishes, picked up and emailed you a couple of times. I didn't get as much done as I wanted, but it's a start."

I just shook my head and smiled. Maybe this layoff will be better than I thought!

Today he is picking up carpet, the wood for my storage unit, a new light fixture and some other things. I'm not sure if he's painting another coat of primer or not. I guess I'll have to wait and see! I can't wait.

Day 1

Today is the first day of Bear's layoff from work. After today, there are 27 days remaining of the layoff (hopefully). When the alarm went off at a quarter to six this morning, I did not want to go to work. I just wanted to snuggle back into the warmth of Bear's body and go back to bed.

But I got up.

And I went to work.


So now I'm here, and I'm wondering what he's doing. Has he started painting my craft room? Will he be thinking about me while he is home alone? Will the cats be into every thing he's doing? How many texts can we send each other while I'm supposed to be teaching?

And finally: How long until I can go home to him?

Because that's what I want the most. I want to be with him. My husband is my most favorite person on this earth, and it kills me that I had to get into a cold car and drive away from him this morning. That I have to be here for eight hours while he is home, renovating a room in his house for me.

Seven hours left to go.


~Amalia~

PS When I get home tonight (after I greet Bear), I will post progress pics of my craft room on my other blog. Feel free to check it out!

Update

There are two more days of work for Bear before he begins his four week layoff (let's hope that's all it is). He's filled out the unemployment paperwork - his benefits will begin about two weeks in. There will be one week where he does not get any kind of paycheck, but otherwise, will be getting at least something every week. We are planning as best we can and keeping our fingers crossed that the mill can sell enough of their lumber to be able to bring everyone back to work in a month.

We have been thinking about things Bear can do while he's out of work. The busier he is, the better, if you ask me. Here's what we have so far (feel free to add more ideas in the comments):

• Paint the stairs and railing. I started this last summer, but never finished it. It looks like crap, and I hate looking at it every night when I go upstairs to go to bed.
• Finish cleaning the garage. He started it, but more (much more) needs to be done.
• Finish cleaning the basement. The basement is too scary for me, so cleaning it is on him.
  
• Do all household chores - washing dishes, vacuuming, bathroom duty, laundry... all of it. He's a househusband now. Time to act the part.*
• Get the mail every day so I don't have to.
• Make me an afternoon snack for when I get home from school.*
• Compose poems and songs in my honor.*
• Create a shelving system for my knitting/spinning supplies.
• Load all of my CDs onto the pen drive we bought to house our music so I can put some new stuff on my mp3 player.
• Entertain the cats.
• Blog.**
• Put out. A lot.*

* Okay, these things may be more MY ideas than his. I say they stay.
** In my "Roll of Honor" you will find his new blog "A Bear's Tale". Read and comment when you can. Thanks!

Bloggy love for Bear

Bear called me at the end of his lunch break today. I thought it was to tell me how cold he is - he's working outside in negative 31 degree weather (plus wind). But that wasn't why he called.

"We got our layoff notice, today, Baby," he said. The hardwood lumber mill he works in has been hit hard by the falling lumber market. They've got logs to saw, but aren't selling the lumber.

"I'm awful sorry, Baby," I said. "How long are you going to be out?"

"We're going to work next week, then have a month off. They will keep paying for our health insurance, though, so that's good."

The poor man has worked full time since he was fifteen. I know he's worried. Unemployment in Maine only pays 80% of his salary and our budget is tight as it is.
We'll make it, though, I know we will.
In the meantime, would you all give Bear some Bloggy words of encouragement?

The Best Job in the World.

Have you seen the news articles advertising Tourism Queensland's "Best Job in the world"?

Monday I was in the bathroom getting ready for work when Bear called out to me, "Honey, you have to apply for this job!" I poked my head out the bathroom doorway.
"What is it?" I asked, intrigued by the excitement in his voice.
"It's a six month stay on an island in Australia. All you have to do is blog about your time there and they pay you $105,000!"
I gave him a skeptical look, but walked over to where he was sitting at the computer desk. "Are you sure? There has to be a catch." I read the news article quickly. Then I read it again. Then I read it a third time.
"Huh," I said. That really would be perfect. Maybe I'll apply."
I went back to getting for work, but couldn't stop thinking about it. I thought about it the entire drive into work. I thought about it while I was teaching, while I had detention duty, that night at work. The more I thought about it, the more it became something I really wanted to do. The website was down until late last night (too many people trying to get on crashed the server, I imagine), when I finally got to actually read the terms and conditions. The only catch, as I can see it, is that I have to make a 60 second video about why I'm the perfect candidate for the job.

Ugh.

I'm so bad at being interesting!

I had the same problem when I tried out for Wheel of Fortune - turns out I don't lead a very interesting or glamorous life. I persevered then and won a spot on the show. If I can do that, I can do this. Now I just have to *do* it.

I've made the script for what I'm going to say and have a rough plan for it. Now I just need the courage to get it done (I will of course post it here when it's done). I'm planning on doing it this weekend or Monday.

Will you please, please, please wish me luck?

T-ing Off, Part Four

Part Four: Resolution

After the blow up, I kept an eye on T's blog to see what, if anything, she would have to say for herself. As days went by, I realized that she wasn't going to - to admit that she'd lost a friend was to admit that she wasn't perfect, and T insisted that her life appear to be perfect. It was one of the reasons she was so bottled up all the time. I was disappointed, because I wanted to know that she had seen what I'd written. I wanted to keep fighting. She did keep updating her blog with details about her wedding and how great everything was. I did a lot of snorting at her posts, but I kept reading them. I couldn't stop. Even though the things she wrote still made me feel badly about myself and my life, I had to keep reading what she was writing. When she got back from her wedding and posted the link to her wedding pictures, I had to go see them. I got a perverse satisfaction out of the knowledge that she didn't look as good as I had in my pictures. That she'd had the cake smashed into her face, while I hadn't had cake smashed into mine. That she'd had some fat/ugly bridesmaids while I hadn't (I had bridesmen, actually - my brothers). but although I got to gloat a bit, it didn't really make me feel better. I knew I was being petty, that I was using mockery to cover up that I was still hurt.

Not long after her wedding, she stopped blogging. I was forced to let it go for a while because there was no way to get updates from her. I wondered why she'd stopped, though. Was it because she knew I was reading it? Did she not want me to know what was going on in her life? Several months later, I found her new blog. All about her and C's life. That the house they'd purchased was getting an updated bathroom. That she had a teacup dog (that she dressed up for Halloween, no less). On her blog, she'd posted pics of her Master's Degree ceremony. Right then I was back to feeling inadequate. I have been only three classes away from my master's degree for three years; finances have kept me from getting my schooling completed. Again, T and her money were making me feel bad, and I was letting it happen. I couldn't stop cyber stalking her. I'd check her blog at least once a week, waiting for the inevitable update that would make me feel miserable again. Bear couldn't stand what I was doing to myself. He'd get angry that I was deliberately causing myself to suffer over someone who had no relevance to my life. He tried telling me that I needed to drop it, stop thinking about her, and move on.

I couldn't.

This fall, she stopped blogging on that blog. I wondered, again, if it was because she knew I'd been reading it. I was left in limbo again, still unable to get closure. I wondered if I'd ever be able to fully let T go. To not feel like we were in some kind of race that I was still losing, even a year and a half later.

Then, on one of my random searches to see if I could find her, I checked her name on Ravelry. Ravelry, for those who don't know, is a huge online knitting community. Rav was an arena I considered mine. I'd found it first, used it every day, was a member of that community. I was shocked to discover that at long last, T had infiltrated even that place. I was so heartsick. How long before she made me feel inadequate in this way, too? How long before she had more projects, more friends, more posts than me? I would not be in the same groups as her. I didn't want to compete with her here - Rav for me is a safe, warm place. Having her there felt awful. While looking at her profile I noticed that she'd linked it to another blog. Immediately I clicked on it to read. This blog was different from her other blogs. In this blog, she was admitting to a failure - the failure to conceive. She has been diagnosed with PCOS and this new blog was about her struggles with it.

A breath escaped me as I read. Relief washed over me. Finally, something was wrong with T's life. Finally, for the first time EVER, she was faced with wanting something she couldn't have. Something that no money could ever buy her. It can't buy her ovaries that work. FINALLY, T knows what it's like to want something with every fiber of her being and be denied. I knew it was terrible to feel good about her problem. I knew it was insensitive of me to be glad that she couldn't have a baby. But it was just such a relief to see the scales evened out a bit - to know that finally, for once, I was coming out ahead.

Then I found it. I found an entry in her blog that pertained to me. It said:

There was one line that struck me though.... "I'd traded friendship for romance, companionship for a husband..." Talking about choosing her to be husband over her best friend. The reason that got to me was because this happened to bme 2 years ago. Almost 2 years ago exactly infact. To be honest I never really took time to reflect upon what happened with my friend, but I knew with certainty that my DH was the person I was to be with for the rest of my life and if H couldn't be supportive, then I no longer wanted her in my life.... Reading today though made me reflect on the whole situation- now where I am in my life could we become friends again? Was there another way to have my DH and friend too? Hmmmmmm....

I was in shock for a minute or two. I'd waited so long to have her acknowledge our fight, only to haver her admit that she'd never really reflected upon it?!? I didn't even rate high enough in her life for her to think about after that day!?! I saw red for a good hour or two. I'd spent so much time and energy following her bogs, watching her life from afar ... and she didn't even think about me. After that I was hurt. When I thought I could, I went back to that post and read it again. It was then that I started to laugh. She though that we'd stopped being friends because I didn' t like C. It was laughable. Our fight had never been about C. I liked C fine. It had been about her, and her selfishness, and her making me feel bad about who I was. And two years later, she had no idea what the fight had even been about. I couldn't believe it. Seriously? It would have been tragic if it hadn't also been so funny.
I began to look at my life, to examine whether or not we could ever be friends again. Were we in a place now that our lives wouldn't become a contest? After two solid weeks of introspection, I think I've finally figured this situation out.

1. I will always compare the successes in my life to hers, and I will always come up lacking.
2. It's up to me whether I allow that to hurt me or not.
3. Knowing that she is faced with the failure she is and is openly acknowledging her lack of perfection has equaled out the playing field.
4. I will be happier and more content without her in my life.

That last one was what let me finally let T go. I have come to appreciate and enjoy the life I lead now. Bear and I are lovers, friends, and teammates. We help each other out and build each other up. I don't want to allow someone from the outside tear down what Bear and I have worked so hard to create. I am more at peace than I have been since T and I "broke up." She never understood what the problem in our friendship was, and she probably never will. And maybe that's okay. Because I know. I don't gloat any more about her infertility. In fact, I genuinely hope that she and C are able to overcome it and have beautiful babies. Because now that I'm finally done competing with her, I can honestly wish her well.
As for her wondering if she and I can be friends again ... well, the answer is no. I wish her well, but we are too different now, and I want people around me who understand me, love me, and wish me well, too.

So Goodbye, T - I'm letting you go.

T-ing Off, Part Three

T and I finished our shopping and she headed home. A few days later, I called to check in. We had more strained conversation - which seemed to be all we could have anymore. Every time I shared something new in our wedding plans (we are renting a canopy, table, and chairs for the reception) was followed by her one-upping me (check out the website of the swanky-very-expensive-totally -catered reception hall we've booked). It was awful. I knew that Bear and I didn't have much money, but I was trying so hard to be happy with what we were going to have. Talking with T just made me feel bad. Bad about myself (if I was a better person, I'd have more), bad about my choices (maybe I should have bought the more expensive wedding dress), and bad about my wedding (maybe we should wait to get married so we could do more). Every conversation we had, I hung up feeling more miserable than before. I hated that our weddings had become some kind of competition, one which I had no hope of winning. I began to feel as though I was less, somehow, than she was.

Then one day I was telling her how Bear and I were tossing around the idea of going on a cruise for our honeymoon - something we'd both always wanted to do. "Don't worry, though, because I'll be back in time for your wedding," I promised. I knew I probably wouldn't end up a bridesmaid, but at least I could help out at and attend her wedding.
"Well, about that, actually," T said. "C and I have decided that we want to get married on the 4th of July instead of the 7th."
I was shocked. "But T, I'll be out of the country. I won't be able to be there," I stammered. She knew that no matter what we'd planned, Bear and I were taking a week long honeymoon.
"Well, you have to do what you have to do," she replied. She didn't sound upset or angry. She almost sounded... glad. As though this was something she'd wanted, and she'd found a non-confrontational way to accomplish it.
As soon as I heard that, I went from hurt to pissed lightning fast. It was time to stop pussy-footing around for the sake of our friendship and tell her what I thought. There had been things that I had let slide for her sake. For example, she had changed her wedding colors from lavender and yellow to blue and "something else." She never came out and said she didn't want to be my maid of honor or that she didn't want me in her wedding. A thousand tiny things that together had me at my limit.
"You know what, I'm so tired of this. I'm tired of you making me feel bad every time we talk. I know that you want to change your other wedding color to red," I said, talking faster as the words began to flow. "I don't care, really I don't, but I want you to know that there may be shallow people who are at both weddings that think you're copying."
She shrieked at me, interrupting what I was about to say. "NO! You know that I've wanted red and blue and a 4th of July wedding for six years. It's YOU who always copy ME! Tennis, the gym, knitting. You always take my things! Do you know how upset I was when you told me that day what your colors were doing to be? UGH!! You know what? It's hurts me to talk to you, it hurts you to talk to me, so I'm done!" And she hung up on me.

I put the phone down, in a rage. I'd told her several times that the reason I had chosen the colors I had were due to financial reasons. I cast back in my mind to see if I had, indeed, known about her dream wedding, and it was there. Six years ago, when she was dating her last boyfriend, she had this elaborate idea worked out to get married on the 4th of July so she could have fireworks at her wedding. I had just assumed that her plans were individual to the guy she was with; apparently she just switched men out and kept the idea the same. I was very angry still. Deciding I was done, too, I wrote this post (I call her Beatrice in the post at one point - it's her). I was so, so angry. My rage was almost a living creature. It gnawed on me. When I thought I was free of it, it would let out a primal roar and I'd be right back to pissed. For weeks! I resolved never to speak with her again.

And I haven't.

It's been more than two years and we haven't emailed, spoken, seen each other, anything. I can't say that I'm sorry. Without her in my life I am free of the constant sense of inferiority that so often plagued me when we were friends. I am able to say what I mean and don't have to tiptoe around anyone anymore.
But that doesn't mean that I don't still wonder about her. And at times, when I'm on the internet and bored, I look around to see if I can see what she's up to. She had a blog at the same time I did, and I'd expected to see some kind of retaliatory post on her blog. I don't know if I was hurt or relieved when it never appeared. I'd forget her for months at a time, then something would trigger my memory and I'd poke about again.

I was unprepared for what I did find.

(tomorrrow: part four - resolution)

T-ing Off, Part Two

Part two: the count down

So there we were, T and I - two hours apart, trying to maintain our friendship even though it was more difficult than ever. Things between my boyfriend and I were getting worse without T there as a buffer. I had to vent to someone, and that someone became him. Eventually I'd had enough and left him. I moved into the apartment complex T had lived in when she became single. I didn't even look anywhere else. I knew they were a great company to rent from, that they plowed their parking lots well and early and had a maintenance man on duty 24/7. I ended up renting an apartment almost identical to the one T had rented the year before. In this new world, I was glad of the familiarness of the place.
The problem now was that I had no friends in the city I was in. All of my high school friends had moved back home and T was the last friend I had that lived nearby. With her gone, I was friendless, boyfriendless... I needed new friends. Fast.

About this time T started dating a guy named C. It was obvious from the very beginning that he was totally smitten with her. T wasn't as enthused. For one, he worked at a gun store, and she'd never fired a gun in her life. Didn't want to. For two, he wasn't her usual pretty boy type. She drooled over Abercrombie boys; this guy was from the Big and Tall catalog. He was easily 6 and a half feet tall with an endearing, goofy expression. I liked him immediately. I especially liked how he could deal with T's emotional flighty-ness. She waffled back and forth about whether she wanted to be with him. Her pros and cons went something like this: he is good to me (pro), but he doesn't want kids (con), he has lots of money to do things (pro), but has ex issues. She'd call me every week and say she was going to break up with him, then change her mind the next day. It was exhausting. I tried to tell her what I thought she needed to hear. She'd spent a long time with her ex unhappy, so I urged her to break up with this new guy before it got too serious. I was worried she'd settle for the guy that paid attention to her again. Then one day she called.
"So I really need to break up with C," she said.
"So do it already! You know you don't want to be with him long-term," I urged.
"Okay, I will. But we're going to Las Vegas for a few days, so I will do it when we get back."

I had a HUGE problem with this. It felt to me that she was using him; allowing him to dote on her while having no intentions of being with him. Ugh. I didn't say much and ended the call soon after. I didn't like who T was becoming. Since when was she so shallow?

While all this was going on, I'd met Bear. Despite intending to stay single for a good long time, I fell in love with his adorable charm and genuine caring. By Christmas we were official. By March we were engaged. We knew we had moved very quickly, so set our wedding date for a little more than a year away - June 30, 2007.

Meanwhile, not only had T not left C after Vegas, they became official while they were down there. they became engaged then or shortly thereafter. I was still bothered by how C obviously loved T more than she loved him, but since I wasn't with them, I couldn't prove anything.

It was then that two friends started planning their weddings at the same time. T has a HUGE princess mentality - she'd been dreaming about her wedding, Prince Charming, etc. for years. She named her cats Tinkerbelle and GusGus. I had not grown up ever intending to marry, so this was all new to me. Bear and I were both very poor, so our wedding was to be on a budget. A very small budget. We started looking at ways to cut costs while T was not worried about the cost of her wedding at all. And why should she? Between C's money and her parents', she had no money worries at all. What she wanted, she was going to get. The first few wedding dresses she tried on were more than $1,000. Mine cost $99. I didn't even get it altered (it fit well enough and I couldn't afford it, anyhow). I reserved the wedding and reception locations: my parents' back yard. She reserved this spectacular old Catholic church and swanky reception site.

As the planning process continued, my conversations with T became more strained. I'd asked her already to be my maid of honor. She said yes. Then she set the date of her own wedding a week after mine. Knowing how emotional she can be, I asked her if she thought she could handle both my wedding and hers. She said yes. I told her that I would make sure to be back from ym honeymoon in time for her wedding. I asked her if I was going to be a bridesmaid. She said, "well, maybe, I just don't know, I may have to have C's sister in mine, and I - I just don't know." I was really hurt by that.

But that wasn't all. One day we were shopping, and she asked me what my wedding colors were going to be. "Well, I said, we're getting married right before 4th of July, so probably red and blue. It's what will be on sale as far as plates, tablecloths, and decorations go," I said. Bear and I were trying to pinch every penny we could.
"Oh," she said. I pretended not to notice that her mood took a nosedive. I didn't know what was bothering her, but knew if I ignored it, eventually she'd tell me.

And boy, did she ever.


Tomorrow: part three (the fall out)

T-ing Off, Part One

The Beginning.

Freshman year of college was a year of great changes for me. Being away from my parents for the first time, ending a four-year relationship, gaining new friends and living life on my own terms. It was great. At the change of semesters, I met T. T was a year ahead of me and also an education student. She had even moved in to the room I had lived in the semester before. We hit it off right away. She was Catholic (as so many of my best friends were growing up), so it was fun to try to pull her out of her shell. She needed a lot of pulling; she wasn't very outgoing and had a very reserved nature. She NEVER discussed things like sex or bodily functions (two of my favorite subjects). Still, she understood the issues I was facing in my education better than anyone. We got new boyfriends around the same time and would double date and hang out quite frequently. She was always starting a new hobby - tennis, knitting, going to the gym. She was great about letting me tag along and become involved, too. Her parents came to visit her on campus and I even fell in love with them. They obviously loved her and each other - something my own home was seriously lacking. I used to ask them when they would adopt me so I could be their child, too. The more I got to know T, the closer I wanted to get. She was me, 2.0: she had the life I would have had if I'd had wealthy, loving parents like she had. She graduated with no debt (parents paid for college), got a new car shortly after, and after breaking up with her boyfriend, got her own place to live. She was teaching and taking grad classes. Life for her was perfect. I wanted mine to be perfect, too.
Because it wasn't. My boyfriend didn't work after the first year of our relationship. My last year I was working two jobs, student teaching and taking a class so that I could graduate on time. I'd been driving the same crappy Ford Escort Wagon for years (I HATED that car) and couldn't see a time that I'd ever have everything like T did. I racked up thousands of dollars on my credit cards paying for groceries, car repairs, and gas. I held T up as the goal. Her life was what I would have. Someday.
Looking back, it was clear to me that there were some problems in our friendship, though. For one, she could not understand my money issues. Never having had them herself, she had no idea how debt can absolutely crush your spirit. She didn't understand how I could stay with my boyfriend who was giving me so much trouble and so little help (he wasn't even on disability or unemployment - he lived off me entirely). I could never make her see that I couldn't leave him just because he was sick. He had a chronic prostate condition that left him in excruciating pain all day long. I felt that leaving would be selfish. I couldn't do it.
The biggest problem in our friendship, though, was how bottled up she was. If I did something that bothered her, she never said anything. She'd let it stew silently until she couldn't take it any more and would explode all over the place. I get very frustrated by people that do this. Just tell me what's wrong so I can fix it. If you don't tell me, I'm not going to kiss your ass just because I think I might have done something wrong. My parents raised me to "shit or get off the pot". It was what I wanted her to do. She'd been raised differently.
Still, we got through a lot of tough times together especially in our line of work. When my first teaching job chose not to renew my contract, I was devastated. I cried all the way home, and she was the only person I wanted to talk to. I knew she'd make me feel better. And she did... much better than my boyfriend did.
Then one summer she got a teaching job in the southern part of the state. It meant moving more than two hours away. She wanted to move back to where she was from; closer to her family and friends she'd had growing up. I was heartbroken. She thought she was moving to something better; all I knew was that she was moving away from me. And I couldn't follow her - my boyfriend, who I was living with/taking care of didn't want to move down south, and honestly I couldn't afford to move anyway. I was absolutely broke.
And that was truly what I had the biggest issue with T about. She never understood what it was like to want something with all of your being, and be denied it, again and again. T always got everything she wanted; I'd been denied thing my whole life. I resented her for it. It just wasn't fair that she could sail through life so easily and I'd had to fight so hard. I'm sorry to say that I took my resentment out on her at times, got angry with her and wasn't as happy with her successes as a friend should have been. I still wanted to be her, still held her life as my goal. But at times (like when she got pulled over for speeding in her new car), I'd be happy her life wasn't completely perfect.

I should have known that things between us were about to go from bad to worse.


(tomorrow: part two)

I'm still here

I'm working on a long post, one that's been rattling around inside my head for quite a while. It's not quite ready yet, though. While you wait, how about you check out the blogs on the left? They are loads of fun to read and will get you through the excruciating wait for my next "real" post.

Amalia

The holidays are done...

but my tree is still up.




Ugh.

Amalia's New Year's Message for Bear

Too many times
We've had to fight the onslaught
of enemies at our door.

And so often we lost
the sounds of our voices
Amid the lion's roar.

Tonight we rest and recover
And reflect on where we've been
Tomorrow we wage a war of our own
That I just can't wait to begin.

Morning!

I sit here, at 9:25 on a Monday morning in my pjs, sipping yummy pumpkin and hazelnut coffee, reflecting on the wonder that is today. It's my fifth day off over the past eight days (!) and although I have a plethora of chores awaiting me, I am in a place of contentment. Zedd is looking at me like he wants to come cuddle me on the couch. Briggs is off somewhere creating mayhem. Bear is at work, so I have the house to myself. Nickelback's new CD is playing on my laptop (the surround sound is hooked up).

Life is good.

I have missed you all, my blogger friends. I'm going to spend the morning catching up on your lives - you have been busy this past week! Then it's off to do chores, but that's okay. I don't mind working after a morning spent so perfectly.

Happeeeee!

Okay. I'm happy this morning. I admit it. I've been smiling all morning and not just because a) this is the last day of school before Christmas vacation, b) there were giant cinnamon rolls in the teacher's room for breakfast, c) I drove my truck to school today, or d) I don't have to work at job #2 tonight. The *real* reason I'm happy?

I slept last night.

The last two nights, actually. I slept through almost the whole night with only minimal dreaming. I didn't wake before the alarm. It was seven hours of pure, unadulterated, uninterrupted sleep.

It's been a long time since I've slept that well.

I am a very light sleeper usually - rolling over will wake me up (me or my husband). I can't seem to get beyond that dream layer of sleep. I dream all night long and remember those dreams in the morning. Most are disturbing/stressful, so I wake feeling no more rested than I did when I went to bed. It sucks.

But for some reason, the last two nights I've been sleeping better than I have in a long time. I don't know if it's because of the upcoming holiday relaxing me, my body finally realizing it needs to rest... whatever the reason, I feel awesome this morning.

How are you?

Asexual Reproduction (of a sort)

I've always believed that blogging begets blogging. People who enter the blogsophere by following one person's blog inevitably create their own. As they get readers (and commenters), their presence in the blogsophere grows, until they are just too big for one blog to handle. It becomes more difficult to remain true to the original blog's intent, and thus another blog is born.

And so it is with me.

This blog was, is, intended to chronicle my life with Bear. To a large extent, it's a blog about Bear, and me, and our adventures together. As much as I love him, he isn't a knitter or a spinner (I'm working on it. Trust me). So where do I blog about my fiber-related adventures?

Here.

I've created that new blog so that this old blog will get back to what it is supposed to be. I love this blog, and I'm sure I will love that blog, too. I hope that those of you who read this one will also read that one, and that any readers I get there will visit me here. And that those new readers will by extension also visit you. Because I love your blogs. All of them. I love reading them, commenting on them, waiting for your newest post. You guys are GREAT at staying true to your bloggy roots - something I'm trying to do here. I want to get back to dishing all of my relationship details and receiving your sage (and sometimes very very funny) advice.

And so, with that in mind, I will post my obligatory Christmas tree photos. These were taken before Briggs and Zedd decided that it wasn't a Christmas tree at all, but a giant holder of cat toys. Bear helped me decorate:

How?

How do I go Christmas shopping for my husband tonight... when he is going with me? How do I maintain any kind of surprise when he will be in the same stores I will be, and if I leave with a package he will know where it is from, if not what it is. Ugh. Anyone have any suggestions?


~Amalia~

PS If you're having issues with the Google map, try the following: Click view larger image, click the orange man above the zoom meter, then click on one of the placemarkers on the left. It should give you a photo of part of my commute. Look left and right by clicking the arrows on the compass at the top left of the photo. Does that help?

My drive in, with pictures

View Larger Map

The Drive In

Last Friday school was cancelled. It snowed, rained, froze, all sorts of nasty stuff that makes commuting difficult. Today we have a two-hour delay - in the words of my principal, it's "wicked icy." I waited about 20 minutes past my usual leaving time and headed out. I never know how long it will take me to get to work. I drive forty-one miles (one way) on one of the worst roads in Maine. In summer that can be a forty-five minute drive; in winter, it can take nearly two hours. Even in perfect weather, the road is dangerous - in bad weather it becomes downright deadly.
When I finally get to work, I always get the same questions from the other teachers: "How was the Brownville Road today?" "See any moose?" "I bet your commute was bad today, huh?" I shrug my shoulders, nod an agreement, and drop it.

Because really? I love my drive to work.

I will be the first to admit that I curse the logging trucks and plow trucks that make the drive dangerous for small passenger cars. The road itself isn't paved well, so I have to straddle the center line so I don't go off the road into the ditch. There is a twenty mile stretch where there is no cell phone reception, so if I do go off the road, I have a long walk ahead of me. There are no businesses, only a few year round homes... 95% of my drive is straight through the uninhabited North Maine Woods.

I love it.

Because although there are several difficulties, this road is one of the most beautiful, most interesting, most breathtaking roads I've ever driven on. Each day I see wildlife. Moose, deer, fox, coyote, owls, hawks, eagles, crows, ravens, fishers, otters, ermine, weasels, partridge, quail, turkeys, and more. Just this morning there were two partridge in the road, busily pecking at the salt and sand in the road. They didn't look up as I approached. I pointed my car in between them and drove by. As I looked in my rearview to assure myself that I hadn't hit them, I saw them looking at me, necks outstretched as though trying to figure out what had just gone by.
I drive past three mountains, two rivers, a bog, a flowage, more than one lake, mile after mile of forest. Some of the views I pass every day are stunning regardless of the weather. Mt. Katahdin, the last mountain in the Appalachian chain stands stalwart at the end of my commute. Each fall I wait for the day when the mountain gets its snowy cap. I anticipate the spring moose migration each year - some moose I see often enough to learn a little of his or her personality.

With the world's burgeoning population and global warming affecting the entire planet, I find myself incredibly thankful that I drive the road I do. Nowhere else, maybe anywhere, is the natural world on more perfect display. So when people shake their heads in sympathy for my horrible commute, I let them - it means one less person on my road.

Meh.

Tuesday night on our way home from getting groceries, Bear asked me when we should put our tree up. I shrugged. "I don't really care if we don't put it up at all, actually," I said. "It just seems silly to do all that work for three weeks and then have to take it all down again."
"Are you kidding?" Bear queried.
"No... why?" I asked.
"Because. You're the one who got me back into celebrating Christmas. I didn't celebrate it for years before you. You were the one who insisted that Christmas needs to be celebrated. You made a big deal out of it and made me love it again. Now you're telling me that you don't care?"

It's true. For the first time in my entire life, I do not care about Christmas. I'm not against the idea, but I have no feelings at all either way. It's odd, and it would concern me - but I just can't be bothered to care. I wonder in a detached way why I feel this way, but it's too much work to suss out the reasons so I haven't really bothered. I do feel guilty for disappointing Bear. But should I lie about it? Is it better to pretend to have holiday spirit for his sake or to be honest about it for mine? I don't really know the answer to that question.

I know that part of my ambivalence comes from knowing that we have very *very* little money to spend on gifts. Part of it is because I have no surprise gifts in mind for Bear - he's getting stuff from his list (last year I surprised him with Jeff Dunham tickets and he was THRILLED). A part comes from working two jobs, which leaves me too tired to want to decorate. I'm sure as well that part of my lack of spirit is because of some reason I have yet to discover.

Bear and I are going to the Festival of Lights parade on Saturday night. It's a Christmas parade that culminates in the lighting of the tree in downtown Bangor. I'm looking forward to it, and I hope that it will put a little bit of holiday spirit into my otherwise empty heart. If it doesn't, I don't know what to do to keep from disappointing Bear further.

So how did I do?

Last week I posted all the things I was going to do. Most I accomplished, some I did not.

• I not only had Saturday off, but Sunday, too. It was wonderful to be able to sleep in both days! Even if by "sleep in" I mean 7:30. It counts!

• Caitlin's wedding was beautiful - SHE was beautiful. So graceful and elegant. It was a traditional Catholic ceremony, but the deacon was awesome and so it wasn't painful at all. I got to sit with my old band director from high school at the reception. it was AWESOME to see him again, to catch up with what everyone has been up to since graduation. I can't believe it was almost ten years ago! So congrats to Caitlin and her new husband Justin.
  
• Bear's Thanksgiving dinner was wonderful. He totally spoiled me and let me eat the skin off the turkey (my favorite part) and didn't complain when I didn't eat the peas he'd specifically cooked for me. I was too full on turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, corn, and yeast rolls (recipe courtesy of suburban turmoil). I did at least make dessert (Toll House Pie. Ever have it? It's delish).
• The two knitting project completion bullet was a joke. Although I did get a few inches of T-Licious' stole knit, it's far from done and I was too guilty to work on anything else. I still have about a foot to go, plus fringe. I'm going to try to knit at least two rows a day until I get that sucker done! Bear's trigger finger mitten #2 was the other project... it's about two hours of knitting away from completion. I'll get to it soon, I hope.
  
• I got to see my cousins Aaron and Carly on the Martha Stewart show. They even got invited to her farm! To help her out! It was pretty cool. You can visit Aaron and Carly's website at www.tidemillorganicfarm.com. They are amazing.
  
• I got my spindle, and it hasn't been far from me since. I LOVE spinning on this thing! For those of you in the [knitting] know, it's a 0.95 oz. Golding spindle. It's aMAZing. Truly.
  
• The kitchen table was cleaned off, but it beginning to accumulate crap already. I'll try to clean it off again tonight when I get home. Promise.
• Laundry isn't completely folded yet. The big stuff is... I just hate matching up socks.
• I slept in Wednesday! Woo hoo!
• Sweeny Todd was great. I really loved it. I have several bits and pieces of the songs stuck in my head. It kinda sucks, but at least they are good songs! Plus, Johnny Depp is welcome to stick in my head (or anywhere) any time he wants.

How did you guys make out this weekend? How was Hawaii, Alice?

This Week I Am...

• spinning fiber into yarn (an early Christmas gift for me)
• working every day but Saturday
  
• going to a good friend from high school's wedding on my day off
• eating my first Thanksgiving dinner at my own home (Bear is cooking)
• completing two knitting projects (I hope)
• watching my cousin and his wife appear on the Martha Stewart Show
• getting my own spindle (instead of the borrowed one I'm using)
• cleaning the kitchen table off
• folding the eight loads of laundry we did yesterday
• sleeping in Wednesday morning
• watching Sweeny Todd (we've had it since May and haven't watched it).

What are you doing this week?

The Great Christmas Cotastrophe of 2008

Every year near Christmas time, something magical happens. I'm not referring to Jolly Ol' St. Nick or his eight tiny reindeer - I'm referring to the financial crisis that occurs every holiday season just as we begin to buy gifts for people and each other.

Last year, the cost of heating oil was shooting up and up. I was forced to get a second job and pay for oil a hundred gallons at a time, because we had no money to prebuy and oil companies were refusing to do budget plans. My car needed several repairs and we had very little money to spend on Christmas. We persevered, however, and although it put us further in debt, gave each other the very best Christmas we could.

This year is a little different, in that Bear is taking care of the heating bill this winter. We're still buying a hundred gallons at a time, but the cost is less per gallon and still going down. We may sign up to do a budget plan at a later date. No, this year, we got a letter from the town saying that we haven't paid our taxes from 2006. 2006! The letter said we have until December 15th to come up with $1,200 dollars to pay the bill or they are going to take our house.

I didn't even know they could do that!

Our home is paid for - there is no mortgage. Our annual tax bill is around $900. Since we didn't pay it, fees and interest brought the bill to the $1,200 we now owe. I just about fell down when I read the letter. Normally I wouldn't open a letter addressed solely to my husband, but this time I did. I was glad I did. I was sorry I did.

You see, I leave it to my husband to pay all the bills from the town - taxes, sewer, and water. These bills are some of "his" bills. I tend to pretend they do not exist. He doesn't pay my credit card bills, cell phone bill, or internet bill - we divide and conquer. I have a terrible tendency to ignore what he is and isn't paying until I cannot any longer (like the time the Satellite Dish was shut off for nonpayment, or the time we got a letter from the town telling us they were going to shut our water off in 24 hours if we didn't pay immediately). Is this tax bill Bear's fault? Yes. He chose not to pay it (for very good reasons, I am sure). But is it also my fault for ignoring bills that affect me, too? Yes again. I should have checked, asked, investigated ... and I didn't.

We paid what money we had on us, and are now left with a bill for $850. All the money that was going to go to Christmas gifts for Bear and I will go to this bill, as well as money usually spent other places. We're getting rid of the satellite dish (what good is a dish with no house to put it on?) We have just under a month to scrounge up the rest of the money. We can do it, but it's going to be tight. I am so pissed at the both of us - Bear for not paying this bill and myself for not asking him about it, that I'm ready to say a big "fuck you" to Christmas this year. Seriously - what's the point if there are no presents to give? We will of course be taking care of our extended families, but for us, there will be no presents under the tree. And maybe that's the way it should be; maybe we need to see the bare, uncovered tree skirt, and allow it to remind us that presents are only good if you have a house to open them in.