TMI

Have you ever read someones Facebook status and cringed, felt uncomfortable and wondered why on earth they would post something so personal for the world to see? I have. I disassociate myself from that person with a raised eyebrow and my own witty, half veiled status where everything is safely insinuated and therefor acceptable. But secretly I have been brought to that moment, hands hovering over the keyboard, where I wanted to let the world know that I am about to lose my shit! I'm lonely! I'm horny! My world is a shit storm and I'm not so sure I can ride it out a moment longer! So great is my need to have some human contact,to feel some support, that I might just risk putting it all out there for people like my eighth grade classmates and high school boyfriends to read if it might garner some attention and support, a little red number in a square alerting me that some one has sent me a life line. So far I've managed to 'keep it together' for the public eye.

This morning I had a total meltdown when Everett accidentally but carelessly tore a utility shelf from the wall that was holding all the tools. It took me hours to get those shelves up and two months to even find the energy to do it by myself. Yesterday he ripped the bottom screen off the front door and I had to sit in 115 degree sun while I unscrewed the door frame, pulled the metal screen back into place, screwed the frame back on and then meticulously sewed the inner screen back onto the metal screen. Today the shelf was the last straw and instead of screaming at him I just started bawling. I cried like my heart was breaking, like I was mourning the dead, like everything as I knew it was up for auction.
Which of course is why was I crying topped with the helpless feeling one gets when they have just seen their hard work undone. Oh how I wanted to get on Facebook and virtually scream for help: "Some one come rescue me!" or "Sweep me up and tell me it's going to be Ok" And there are a few I would ask to "Kiss me so fiercely that the world falls away"and "Take me to bed and don't let me out until I have been reborn"
But what I wrote was: "Need. Massage. Now.....and a handy man." And I really don't feel a sense of superiority for my restraint. Nor do I feel any relief and no one is throwing me a lifeline because frankly, who doesn't need a massage or a handy man.
Still, I am not sure that the full disclosure status update is the way to go because although it's true that we all lose our shit at times and we all falter and feel alone, there are some out there to whom I would like to remain mysterious. It's important to me that when I am failing and falling apart, when I am ugly and unlovable, someone out there thinks I'm living the dream.
Hm..instead of sitting here and continuing to feel sorry for myself maybe I'll scan my friends status updates for TMI and throw out some lifelines. Then I'll go look at that damn shelf again. And if any of you can recommend a man who's good with his hands- ahem- I mean a good handy man, I'd be much obliged.

Big Mountains, Crappy Beer

My heart, not yet a clean slate, has surrendered to the knowledge of the many lonely months ahead. My brain has nothing definitive to say of love. It’s opinions, like love itself are constantly evolving, shifting and morphing- never finite. Just when I seem to have figured out how I got to this place in my marriage, when I could draw it out like a map, I realize that there are far more paths than the ones I have shown- that mountain wasn’t as big as I remembered it- and the place from where I started might have been farther away or was it closer to where I am now? Was it that the paths were long, or serpentine and tangled, giving the illusion that a great distance was traveled? In the end it’s of little import where I started from- I have come to this place. This strange, sad place where hopes, like little chinks of light, try to find their way in where ever the barrier is weakest. Do I dare to hope that some day I will have love again? Wild, passionate, love? Will I ever want a man so badly I pull the car over, straddle his lap, take him into me and actually enjoy the ride? Sex is so staid in my marriage- quite frankly I’m a boring lover and my husband would be doing things much differently if he had his way. God- what if I never become an adventurous, uninhibited lover again? How embarrassing…. But why does it matter? Why does it mean so much to me? Why do I feel embarrassed? Biologically speaking there is no need for me to be some deranged sex fiend- I mean I did my friggin’ job and popped out a couple kids- the human race will live on in part thanks to my contribution. These standards that I feel I’m not living up to are not innate they are derived from a copulation crazed society. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.!! OK so the extra exclamation point may be a result of the two Bud Light Limes that I’ve been forced to drink here in this beautiful, Podunk town of Sutton, West Virginia that doesn’t sell micro brew. The kids and I are on our way back to Raleigh from a short New England visit and have landed at the Elk Motor Lodge off of WV 4. Suffice it to say that this motel is significantly different than it’s cozy, homey depiction online. I did request a non-smoking room but it appears that all 15 of the rooms are smoking or have been smoked in. The owners have bought-hook, line and sinker- into the belief that potpourri actually masks the odor of cigarettes. A girlhood friend of mine had parents who were chain smokers and owners of one of those small, yippy dogs who was ancient and literally rotting. This dog-ironically named snuggles- stank so bad I couldn’t get close to it without gagging. Her mother earnestly shook potpourri powder onto the shag rugs everyday. I had too much tact to tell them that the end result was a odorous frying pan to the face of cigarettes, fetid dog and sickly sweet potpourri. I was smacked with this memory upon opening my motel door but I’m not in the mood to rock the boat so I breathe lightly until my nose has adjusted. It’s an honest to goodness motor lodge where the cars are parked nice and orderly in front of their doors and there’s a long line of chairs placed outside the rooms, air conditioners purring and leaking onto the cement. When we arrived I seemed to be the only adult female lodging here amongst a motley crew of gruff, rugged men all eyes and soft whistles but now as I sit outside my room listening to Robert Johnson I am alone with my thoughts and almost wishing myself some burly company if at least for the fodder. There are fireflies though… Did you know that there is a spot in the Great Smokey Mountains where the fireflies light only in unison every five seconds? If you take them out of that area they no longer do it in unison. The only other place on earth where this phenomenon has been documented is in China. What the hell is that all about? If you cannot find one pathetic reason to carry on let it be because shit like that goes on every day and we are here to witness it. These events we humans consider a miracle are trivialities to Nature. What a concept.