40 - Love

I was born with a forehead that reads, "Tell me anything," anecdote #648.

So there I am standing in the organic chip aisle at Kroger, wondering for the second time in a week why they're out of Red Hot Blues, my favorite spicy blue corn chips. Is it as simple as a supplier shortage, has Kroger disavowed them or have they ceased making them because I am in the minority of those who like their corn chips spicy?

I'm startled out of my reverie by a voice inquiring, "How old are you?"

When I pivot, I see a woman standing in front of the supplements and vitamins, a box in hand. I'm curious why you're asking, I tell the stranger.

This is when the words, "Tell me anything" begin lighting up my forehead and she takes it to heart.

"I'm 57 and I just started dating this man," she begins in a conspiratorial tone. "Now, we haven't consummated anything yet, but he doesn't use, you know, condoms. And I don't believe in abortion. I don't believe in birth control, either."

Two things occur to me. First, surely this woman I've never laid eyes on isn't asking the world's biggest relationship failure for dating advice and second, how many 57-year olds worry about birth control?

She extends her arm so I can see the box in her hand: all natural prenatal vitamin supplements.

"If there's going to be an accident, we're going to have a healthy baby!" she assures me, tossing the supplements into her cart. "Better not take any chances with the baby."

Go for it, I tell her. Take charge of your body, especially if you don't want this man to keep it in his pants.

But mainly, I'm impressed that this woman who doesn't believe in any sort of family planing apparently has no qualms about pre-marital sex. Even better, I admire that she's optimistic enough to think pregnancy is a possibility.

Wishing her the best of luck with him, I continue shopping. When I get to the check-out, there she is in line and graciously waves for me to go ahead of her since I have fewer items.

"Do you play tennis?" she asks and I laugh out loud.

It's the skirt I have on - an athleticwear skirt with shorts built in and a gift at that - that no doubt caused her to guess I had even one athletic bone in my body. No, I can walk long distances but zero hand/eye coordination, I tell her, placing my groceries on the belt.

Turns out she teaches tennis to the 40+ set on clay courts in Northside ("Much easier on our knees") and she suggests I give tennis a try. Her confidence about my tennis potential is matched only by her positive attitude about the results of sleeping with this new man.

We are soul sisters in unfounded optimism. Introductions are made and email addresses exchanged.

I couldn't turn off the sign on my forehead if I wanted to, but the truth is, why would I want to?

On Lonerism

Where is your blog? You know I live for that little bit of Karen everyday. Are you ok? Just making sure you are ok. If you need anything, let me know. I would do anything for you and I hope you know that! Love you.

I can't very well ignore the entreaties of the one person - family aside - who's loved me the longest.

My blog has been on hiatus since last weekend. I have a lot on my mind and I need time to retreat, work through some things that are occupying my brain to the point of waking me up and infiltrating my dreams, and ponder.

No, it never occurred to me that anyone, even you, lived for the little bit - and, let's be honest, usually a lot - of Karen I put out to the world every day.

The chronicling of my thoughts, opinions and activities are meant to be an historical record of 21st century life for some future cultural historian digging deep to see what kinds of things occupied ordinary people or, if it happens to be some sort of women's studies scholar, provide a snapshot that reflects a female of a certain generation, class and education level.

That my posts also provide a link to the people who care about me, though, has become the best reason to keep it up.

Am I okay? Yes and no, just like any other human being. Am I sorting through who I am and why I haven't been more successful in some areas of personal growth and relationships? Yes, definitely. Am I wishing I could just disappear and not ever feel sad again? No, I'm not.

As for your offer of anything, I do need things, but these things I need aren't the kind I can ask for. Coming to terms with what I do need and want and am willing to work for is on my shoulders. I wish I could just say "This will make me happy" and have it handed to me, but life has already shown me that it doesn't work that way.

So instead I think because I'm an over-thinker. Lately, I've given in to brooding and with that, I've taken on the habits of a loner. Atypically for me, that means not going out in the evenings, giving me nothing compelling to put out to the blogosphere.

Gemini, You are likely to feel as if you are in the middle of a difficult situation. The less said, the better. It would be best if you stayed centered, knowing what you want and expect from someone else.

This is me staying centered and saying less, while figuring out what I want and expect from myself. Love you, too.

Where Have You Been?

Celebrating the wedding of friends turns out like nothing that could have been anticipated.

The setting is bucolic, the weather cooperates, but only barely. These two people I have come to honor are in love as only young people can be, eager, open and confident their love will last a lifetime. I'm inclined to think it will.

But the moon shines
as bright as my adoration 
for you tonight,
fleeting or no
They both have their moods,
but like the moon,
even when shadowed from the glorious and warm sun,
my love for you still exists, 
whole and humbling,
Circling just out of sight

I have just enough time to greet the bride and groom, chat with the groom's parents and briefly with the two couples I know before it becomes clear I would be better serving the party as an extra set of hands rather than a frivolous guest.

The moon again,
Waxing, not quite as full as last
leaves long shadows 
across the would-be vineyard
Through the grackle feet
of the budding gums
Scratching at the sky

The hard-working brick oven needs more than one person to feed it personal pizzas, each crafted according to the ingredient list written on the back of a paper plate by a hungry guest.

Believing that I am just the person to assist in the endeavor, I volunteer and am soon busy rolling out dough balls, spreading toppings and chatting with guests who watch our every move. "I like to bake," says one wide-eyed 6-year old. "When did you start baking?"

A lifetime ago.

My bearded friend comes over to take a photo of me working, observing, "In seven years, I've never seen you actually working." I point out the same is true for me about him.

Midnight in the country
All windows and doors open,
Fantastic breeze 
with three layers of clouds
Moving past the moon
at different speeds
Recuperative sleep will dominate
I still think of you 
when I see the moon,
it seems

Five hours later, the crowd of nearly 200 - the number of pizzas we have crafted, baked and served - has thinned considerably and small groups are clustered in various locations: on benches under the canopy, near the still-playing band beside the barn and up on the hill near the bonfire.

I'm more than happy to sit and enjoy the flames, a glass of South African Rose and conversation with friends and strangers.

Again you upset
The quiet and unsaid thing
That makes us a whole

Slowly, the knot of people around the fire begins to drift away after a long day of dancing, partying, playing croquet and other yard games. The extended family will return first thing in the morning for a communal brunch featuring biscuits baked in the oven that held everyone in its thrall today.

Only a fool believes 
you can return
to the scene of the crime 
and not find the same intersection, 
even when 
hurt and disappointment 
have been paved over

Atop a bale of hay, the bride sits on the groom's lap, her arm around his neck, their smiles conveying both adoration and the loopiness born of  a day celebrating the start of their life together. My happiness for them knows no bounds.

Optimism drifts up 
like smoke, 
replaced 
by regret 
and melancholy

All the things you wish for them are all the things you haven't been fortunate enough to find yourself, a truth driven home by fireplace light. The fervent desire to be part of a sustained whole is unrelenting, even at middle age, yet continues to remain out of reach, circling just out of sight.

Overhead, the moon is bright in the late night sky but offers no solace.

Modern Romance

It was a small, intimate post-Christmas dinner party with an unexpected focus on sex toys and new relationship memories. I have to say, it was really kind of sweet.

The dinner had originally been scheduled for Sunday night, then shifted to Monday night because of the snow and finally agreed upon for tonight. I was the first to arrive, only to find the hostess in full Suzy Homemaker mode, not her norm by any stretch.

The prime rib was about to come out of the oven, the water was boiling for potatoes, bread was being sliced and veggies were being prepared. She poured us both a glass of wine and I shared my tale of wrist woe. Moments later, the other guests came in and the party started in earnest.

I loved her music selection for the evening; it was all obscure vintage holiday stuff from before my time, stuff like Johnny Hartman, Steve and Edie, Joe Williams, Billy Eckstein, Doris Day, the Lennon Sisters.

A few voices I recognized from my parents' old record collection, but we also had an aficionado of that era's music in the group and she was lightening fast at telling us whom we were hearing (her boyfriend said she was born 60 years too late). Really, Jim Nabors aka Gomer Pyle?

It was the kind of gathering that required a fire, so one was started while we enjoyed cocktails in the living room. A discussion of real versus gas fires ensued, but with the scent of well-seasoned wood burning in our nostrils, it was difficult at best to buy into the gas log argument.

Then the hostess disappeared, we heard the whirring of an electric knife and dinner was served. She had bought an enormous 5 1/2-pound piece of meat, despite the butcher warning her that she was overbuying for the size of her group, but meat's her thing.

She'd done a salt crust and barely cooked the meat to rareness and the butter for the bread required a sharper knife than the meat did. Though she claims she's not much of a cook, you'd never know it by her meat.

There was much moaning about the meat and in the midst of it, the cook casually mentioned that she'd been shopping at Priscilla's ("Where Fun and Fantasy Meet") today using her Frequent Customer Card. I thought I knew this woman, but apparently not.

She's a few months into a new relationship and they're doing a getaway New Year's Eve weekend and she thought she'd pick up a few treats. (Wait, Priscilla's has a Frequent Customer Card?) She offered to show us her stash after dinner.

Since I'm the curious type and I've never been in a Priscilla's (or any kind of fun and fantasy-type store), I wasn't willing to wait to learn more. This group was having third and fourth helpings of meat and there was no telling when they might be finished satisfying their blood lust.

Maybe she could start by telling us about some of the purchases she'd made, if only for discussion purposes? But words were clearly inadequate, so she fetched the pink plastic bag and I was designated the show and teller.

First came the Whisper Micro Bullet, which I'm still a bit unclear about, but the woman on the package looked very happy. It was followed by a silicon ring for a certain body part, no doubt a gift for her beloved. Surely also for his pleasure was the, um, cut-out outfit and stockings.

Then came the vibrating tongue ring (lasts up to 40 minutes!) causing a male guest to say, "Well, your tongue does get tired," with a slightly embarrassed laugh. Our hostess quickly corrected him, however; the product is designed to be used by a woman for a man's pleasure.

A collective "Ohhhh" came up from the table. Every single one of us had made the incorrect assumption about who would be using it on whom. Not that Priscilla's can check on proper usage or anything.

And on that note, we moved back into the living room to enjoy the warmth of the fire, yet another bottle of wine and some slightly more classically romantic conversation.

A guest told us about the memoir she had written about the beginnings of her relationship. It was sort of a memory book about their first four or five dates, complete with reminisces, restaurant and festival logos, even her unshared-at-the-time feelings about the burgeoning relationship.

She had begun it as an exercise for herself and become so caught up in remembering that she'd elaborated on it and decided to have it bound and present it to him as a New Year's gift.

The idea seemed romantic to me (well, given the absence of my own love life status, it would), so I asked the female half of another couple if she could pinpoint the top four days from their relationship's first six months.

With some thought, she came up with her own list: the day trip to the swimming hole when the car got stuck on the low road, her birthday weekend away with the endless Prosecco, an early-on meal at a local restaurant while snow came down outside and he wooed her inside.

Her S.O. made a few suggestions, but, as I pointed out, I was looking for her fondest memories at the moment, not his.

After all the sex toy talk, I was really just interested in hearing about some classic romance and with so many of my friends currently in relatively new relationships, they're full of the sort of stories worthy of a good true romance comic. You know the kind.

Her: (hand on forehead woefully) "Gosh, why hasn't he called yet?"

Him: "Golly, I'd really like to talk to her, but my tongue's exhausted!"

I feel quite sure they'll live happily ever after.

There, There, Tell Me All About It

Feeling somewhat better now, thank you.

Despite the wind that was blowing so hard that I actually felt sharp things hitting my face as I walked, I hoofed it over to Garnett's to meet a girlfriend for a catch-up/feel-better session and lunch. The food was negotiable, the talking was not.

We were both surprised at how busy Garnett's was; a table barely emptied before a new party was sitting down at it. When I walked in the counter was full up and five minutes later completely empty. I scored a couple of stools before that changed again.

I won't repeat what I said when my friend came up and asked me how I was, but let's just say we dove right into it. I ordered a Cobb salad, told her what was up in my world (like she didn't already know) and she gave me her take on things.

A server I know came in and sat next to me and we laughed about a mutual friend who has a new girlfriend. He was recently boasting about having finished his Christmas shopping for her.

Turns out he bought the exact same thing for her that he bought for his last two girlfriends: a cardigan, a record and a piece of jewelry. The women can change, but the present list remains carved in stone apparently. Definitely laugh-worthy.

Jenny, my talented baker friend, and her husband came in in between baking jobs and we chatted about the hustle-bustle that's everywhere right now. I could have kissed her when she touched my shoulder and said, "You look so pretty today." Kind words, just what I needed to hear.

Another friend and her wine rep husband were next, taking a respite from having just been over on Midlothian Turnpike, which they described as a zoo. They'd tried Black Sheep (long waiting list), Harrison Street Cafe (already closed for the holidays) and then decided on Garnett's.

Until recently, they lived a few blocks from Garnett's, so it was like coming home for them. I usually only run into them at wine events, so it was an unexpected pleasure to see them and talk today.

I met one of the guys from One Ring Zero, who was down from NYC visiting his sister. I'd heard lots of good thing about him from my girlfriend and he turned out to be a most interesting guy. He had the mistaken notion that I was an acocuntant (!) so I clarified my skill set for him.

My Cobb salad had set a sort of salad trend, with the couple at the end of the bar getting the same and the girl next to me having the spinach salad. She commented that no sandwiches were allowed at the lunch counter today, which I think points to the fact that the salads at Garnett's are as good as the sandwiches. And for that triumph, credit goes to Mac the Magnificent.

And speaking of, I felt a hand running down the back of my jumper and turned to see the great Mac himself, coming by to save the day. As of next week, he'll be back at Garnett's full time, which means we'll have way more time to talk again. I love Mac's laid-back take on life (not to mention his culinary skills) and he's always giving me advice on men. Mostly to avoid them, but still.

Before leaving, my girlfriend did a wrap-up of our discussion (no Power Point, but close), making sure I took into consideration what I was dealing with. Yes, oh wise one, I get it.

Walking home, the sunny sidewalks had been replaced with shady ones, but I actually felt a little better about things. Not to be corny, but it kind of felt like I'd been embraced by caring friends, which I had, both literally and figuratively.

Onward and upward.

Nothing is Different, but Everything's Changed

Clearly my planets are out of alignment because it has been one seismic life event after another since mid-December.

No doubt, these things cause major stress, but I am doing my best to accept and move forward as best I can.

I've been jobless for two months, but, given the economy, that's not a very long time.

When I was laid off in 2004, the economy was much stronger and it still took me 4 1/2 months to find a job and not even one that I wanted, but one that paid the bills for 2 1/2 months until I found the job I did want.

So, no reason to be discouraged about my job state yet. I continue to send out resumes and hope for the best.

Okay, pneumonia for a month was completely out of the blue.

I almost never get sick, so being incapacitated for so long, including five days in Intensive Care, was daunting.

But, I am probably 97% recovered now so that's behind me.

I've paid my pneumonia dues, so to speak.

When a long time relationship ends unexpectedly, there's not a lot to do about it other than accept and grieve.

That simple statement belies just how devastated I was at being dumped by the person I thought was the love of my life after six years.

I had honestly thought we would grow old together; I loved him that much and thought we had committed to that.

But since you can't make someone love you, I have no choice in this awful situation.

That's where I am right now.

Will I feel differently about it in 6 months or a year or two?

I don't know, but going forward I have to hope that I won't be this sad forever.

Or maybe I will.