Sunday, February 18, 2007

More than just a reason

There's an old saying about relationships: People always come into your life for a reason, a season and a lifetime. When you figure out which it is, you know exactly what to do.

I hooked up today with a friend whom I hadn't seen in almost six months. No matter where our lives take us, we are brought back together by a hockey team. When the Kamloops Blazers come to town, we know it's our day.

We sat and talked about where our lives have taken us since we moved out of the house in Montgomery almost two years ago.

And we couldn't believe how much time has passed and how long we've kept some of the people in our lives.

Doyle ... he's known me for 10 years, since I moved out west.

Dale ... she's been my rock since she moved out west in 2000.

Kirk ... entered my life in 1999.

Traci ... one of my best friends since Grade 11. Good grief, that's 20 years exactly.

The only one with whom I'm in constant contact is Dale. But the others ... I know they're there when I need them.

A valuable part of my world, they show me a bit of who I am ... after all, the people close to you are a reflection of who you really are.

They are smart, they are intelligent, they are passionate ... and they care.

We may not always understand the reason we are in each other's lives. Those lessons may not be learned for decades to come.

But I look forward to figuring it out ... and it also helps me realize there are a select few new people in my life whom I'd like to keep around for a few decades, too.

If not a lifetime.

Friday, February 16, 2007

Some hoop on ya!

There was a great e-mail sent out the other day. It was entitled How To Tell If Your Ass Is Too Small.

The attached video is from somewhere in India and a couple of the good citizens are unloading blankets or something or another of a wagon. As the camera pans forward, we get to see why they're unloading the wagon ... the load is so heavy that the poor little donkey is completely suspended in air.

I send it out ... I get the following reply from my buddy, the incomparable Eric Francis: 'that shit was funny - ass is a funny word.'

Ass is a funny word.

In a wonderful way ... look at all the different meanings.

Of course, there's the ass, or 'poor little donkey,' in the video but what if somebody says 'check out that ass'?

Is he looking at your tuckus? Admiring it? Or like Greg in Gander, N.L., used to yell across the ball field at me, 'Some hoop on ya!' Ah, those Newfies ... the words they have that only make sense to them ...

Or is he calling you an ass, as defined by Merriam Webster as a stupid, obstinate, or perverse person, often compounded with a preceding adjective, such as smart-ass.

And then look up smart-ass ... well, it takes on a whole different meaning. refers you to 'smart aleck,' which means an obnoxiously conceited and self-assertive person with pretensions to smartness or cleverness.

Hey! Mom used to call us smart alecks all the time ... that bitch, wait until I get back to Nova Scotia this summer. She's gonna get a talking to ...

Then there's asshole. If you're called an asshole, are you actually the orifice from which you defecate? More likely, someone means a stupid, incompetent, or detestable person.

Same with asswipe, a word I remember being very popular around our household in the late 80s and early 90s.

In any case, that's what makes the English language so much fun ... different meanings on different levels for a word as small as 'ass.'

Now if we could just figure out why we have to have homonyms. Then I wouldn't have to choke the shit out of some asshole who confuses 'there,' 'their' and 'they're.'

There, there, Flashy. There, there.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Quite the day

In about two hours, it will the one-year anniversary of one of the strangest days of my life.

I was still at the Sun then, so Wednesday was my day off. I had been through hell the last couple of days as will become clearer as the words progress.

I got my lazy ass off the couch and took my dog for a walk. As we took those last few strides back toward the house, I saw the truck sitting outside my house. My heart leapt into my throat.

I walked through the gate, toward my door and there he was ... waiting for me.

With the Reader's Digest version of the previous six weeks, I had been dating a guy, whom we will call Muffin, but he was involved in a long-distance relationship with another woman. He had never quite been able to tell me that he loved her or why he needed to be with me, too.

The best I could get out of him was 'I don't know.'

Against my better judgment, I fell deeply in love with him ... no one on this earth has had the power to bring me to a state of relaxation like he could, to make me smile from the inside out, to feel that incredible kiss deep down in my toenails.

But I surreptitiously snuck into his e-mail, found her e-mail address, set up a fake name for myself and told her all about me ... on New Year's Day, 2006.

All hell broke less. I went to that old adage, 'Deny, deny, deny.' It worked until the guilt boiled up inside of me so bad it was in my mind morning, noon and night. My work was faltering, I couldn't eat and I couldn't run ... the one thing that had kept me sane for the last two years, I couldn't bring myself to do.

And there he was, standing on my back doorstep ... knocking at my door and calling my phone.

He wanted to talk.

We talked. I told him everything. Everything I had done. Everything I had told her. Everything I was feeling.

He didn't yell. He didn't hate. He didn't hit.

He said he kind of knew all along but didn't really want to believe it.

Stranger of all, he looked me dead in the eye and told me he wanted to be with me.

I couldn't believe it.

He. Wanted. To. Be. With. Me.

My heart skipped a beat ... or maybe a hundred. I asked him to say it again. Again. And again.

We promised to make Feb. 15, 2006, the first day of working towards trusting each other and building something together.

But something somewhere somehow changed along the way. We did stay together ... for another three months. And all along, he stayed with her, too. He told me he wanted to stay friends with her, that's all.

Except that's where he is today.

And I wonder if he remembers that one year ago today he told me he wanted to be with me.

You can tell I have questions, can't you? Questions that will probably remain unanswered for a hundred lifetimes.

Answers that I probably wouldn't understand.

Because really ... what does 'I don't know' mean anyway?

In a couple of hours, I'll head home from work. His truck won't be there. He won't be standing on my back doorstep ... knocking on the door and calling on my cellphone.

I'll walk the dog and he still won't be there when I get home.

And if it's all the same to you, I'll spend some time crying ... wondering what could have been if he'd just made good on his words.

Wondering if I'll find that perfect state of relaxation again. Or that inside-out smile. Or that kiss in the toenails.

And rest assured, someone's going to suffer my frustration ... tonight, Thorncliffe Arena. Somebody warn them about No. 7.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Happy what now?

Today sucks for a lot of people.

Not me. I guess you would have had to have a good Valentine's Day at least once in your life to have expectations for the day.

First boyfriend: Emotionally abusive stalker, who used roses as a way to entangle me in his misogynistic trappings ... you can't wear that shirt, you can't hang out with your friends. Ditched him soon after he told me I was going to be a teacher ... bahahahahah!

Second boyfriend: Dirt poor. Spent his meager earnings on dope. Took my money when he had none.

Third boyfriend: Thought romance was wasted on women, simply because his ex-fiancee dumped his ass when she figured out she wanted more out of life than Westsyde.

Most recent involvement: Well, I wasn't the only girl he was with and she found out about me around this time last year. Didn't make for a solid V-Day on any end of that triangle.

So it's just another day ... if I could manage to turn the TV and radio off and not listen to all these people flogging this Hallmark Holiday and telling me to love the one I'm with.

That's my dog. And I love him with all my heart ... except for yesterday when he snuck out of the backyard to dig at the garbage and munch on a frozen head of lettuce that the boys upstairs threw out.

Or is it my girlfriends? They've been an amazing support system through these last lonely months of solitude. Of course, I love them, too.

But it sure would be nice to cozy up to a warm set of arms one of these days soon.

Except for one thing ... Valentine's Day ... acronym V.D. ... isn't that a dangerous thing?

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Hey, Shoulders ...

I call you Hot Guy to my friends.
I've been noticing you for a few months now. Every now and then, we'll work out next to each other, so I know we look good together.
But I'm one of those girls who thinks maybe ... just maybe ... you might be too hot for me.
Thus, it took a whole lot of courage to look you dead in the eye last week and say 'hi.'
Man, your face lit up like a Christmas tree, which only made me smile bigger.
Did you sit next to me tonight to hit your biceps on purpose then?
Let me tell you ... it took every fiber in my being to pull my headphones out of me ears and hit you with that deadly opener: "I sure hope you didn't bike over here tonight."
After all, it is 21-below Celsius. Positively frigid, like an old boyfriend. Bahahaha!
He laughs, smiles and says, "Yup."
What ensued was a fairly innocuous conversation about the weather but one in which we both divulged some information about ourselves.
We're both grumpy about people who don't know how to drive in winter. Oh hell, who isn't?
I admitted I just ditched my sweet sports car for an SUV.
You tell me you actually biked to school this morning.
Grr, a tidbit of information that leaves me wanting to know more ... are you a teacher? One of those people I actually admire because of the incredible patience required to deal with idiot kids?
Or are you a student, taking your life in a new path at a later age because you finally have it all figured out?
And what in hell would my fingernails look like digging into those massive shoulders?
Time is running out ... my membership runs out on March 9 and I'll be heading over to another gym, one with better equipment.
But one without you.
Will I have the guts to hand you my digits? Not something I've ever done before.
They've always sought me out ...
Maybe the winds of change are blowing, though.
And that's never a bad thing.