I wanted to do an Easter thing. Maybe a cooking for a few friends, maybe a big open house. Easter has always been a big thing in my family. Last year, we went to the Grand America for their brunch, and while I would enjoy doing that again, I’m a little sad that I don’t have my own brunch to host.
I just don’t want a repeat of the Christmas party where, thanks to a number of issues, people flaked and no showed. I don’t want to clean and cook and don my finest spring dress to repeat sitting on the living room stairs asking him why nobody likes me. (Yes, I know, quite the mature adult response)
Spring comes and I find myself nesting. I want to get rid of the broken, the ugly, the unused, the useless. I’m tired of things taking up space and gathering dust. At the same time, I want to finally bring things here from storage in NE. I have the time to get them, but not the transportation. The funds I have saved aren’t enough, and I’m frustrated by the fact that every month is more money paying for it.
Having the bathroom redone makes me happy, it feels like another room we’ve done together. This makes three, the kitchen and living room came first (and the living room isn’t totally completed). This makes the house more ours. I hope at some point to work on the family room, the bedroom and to make the spare (junk) room into a proper guest room / craft room. I crave color, organization, textures. I want him to be proud of the work we’ve done, the house of his we’ve made our home.
I know that’s not the real saying. It can vary, being God, life or chance making the sisters and love, hearts or prozac making the friends.
We’ve battled on and off our entire lives, so competitive in many ways and polar opposites in others. Finally, as we’ve grown into our respective lives, we’ve recognized that we can be who we are and still love each other.
I don’t always agree with her, and I know she’s disagreed with my choices and opinions, but I respect her. I know she is who she is and I will no longer apologize for her. She is high maintenance, catty and vain; however, she is also kind, vivacious and beautiful.
Today she turns 28. She is a wife to her high school sweetheart and a successful banker. She isn’t afraid to try the newest look and to suggest a new look to a stranger. She is learning to cook and loves Boston Terriers; she can spend countless hours in Sephora or chatting up the newest Twilight book.
I think it’s easier for us to stay friendly now that we’re older and since we only see each other once a year or so. By the time one of us is getting on the others nerves, it’s almost the end of the visit.
I admire her in many ways, I envy her in others. Above all, I adore her in a way I could never love anyone else. She’s the one I shared a room with, even if I’m not the one she shares her secrets with. We will never be those “best friends” sisters who are so close they think the same thoughts and want the same thing. I’m OK with the relationship we have now, and I hope one day we will be closer. Today, and until then, I will love her.
I like starting projects. To-do lists are my friend, I love the satisfaction of crossing something off as done. I dive in head first, I don’t want to be told. I decide what needs to happen and when.
I’m not always the best at finishing them. At some point, I get overwhelmed by the number of tasks and the amount of work still ahead of me. If I can’t keep the passion up, I find myself floundering and I want to delegate the project to someone else.
Sometimes I desert it completely. I say I’ll come back to finish it, and often I do, but there are those things that just remain undone. A reminder of so many knots left untied.
Today, I went to lunch with a great group of dynamic and friendly ladies.
I admit that I get anxious about it. New faces, possibility of crowds, revealing myself, all these things have the tendency to freak me out. I sometimes debate up until the last minute about whether or not I should go, if I should treat myself to lunch, if I will fit in with these gals who are funny, stylish and interesting.
I have met some fascinating women there and continue to enjoy their company, both on Twitter and in person. I’ve never had many female friends, and often find myself wishing for a little estrogen in my day and this is a perfect way to incorporate some girly time while enjoying some wonderful food.
I guess he’s remarried.
I talked to him just a few short weeks ago. I didn’t know he was seeing anyone, much less married. I guess I have no right to know. I sucked it up and told him I was seeing someone two years ago, but that was the last time anyone else was mentioned.
I don’t know if I care because I had a dream that he was with a woman and having kids. I don’t know if I care because he’s married again and I doubt I’ll ever be.
I am happy that he’s happy. I feel relieved that he isn’t alone, that life is a little easier again because he has a sighted person around. I feel confused about the instant family (the new wife has 3 daughters) but I’m happy he’s finally getting to experience fatherhood, in a way.
I’m mostly just shocked. It isn’t that I thought he’d be single forever, it’s just that I’m not sure when he moved on. I’m thankful he has, as maybe he’ll hate me a little less.
It is nice to know that all the family / former friends who thought I was so horrible for “leaving him alone in a strange city” will be pleased to know he’s no longer single.
I congratulated him and wished him well. I hope they are happy together, because I don’t think we could have been.
I know it’s almost here, but I think the fever has struck prior to the date and before the actual change in weather.
I feel like being productive, like organizing things and cleaning up; like ravaging the man in bed beside me.
I love seeing the light later at night and the weather that makes me want to shed my clothes; what’s left of my inhibitions.