Vin, Vince & Amy

It’s been a quiet week, and I’ve only had one really bad day since my last post, so I guess that’s pretty good.

I’ve also had satellite TV installed, mainly because adding it to my phone and internet bundle actually drops my overall bill by $40+…yeah, I’m still trying to figure that one out?! I also thought it would help fill up my nights a bit. Problem is I’m not overly keen to spend time in the living room, we spent a lot of time there watching movies and I’ve caught myself a few times turning to where he’d sit to make some comment about the dumb ass show “we” where watching. (And there seems to be nothing but dumb ass shows on these days.)

Anyhow, Joseph, the satellite guy came to install everything. Joseph looked a lot like a young Vin Diesel….Young Vin Diesel kinda turns my crank.

I don't know why I think he's a hottie, I just do.

To be blunt I was having impure thoughts, my loins were anyways, my head was yelling at my loins “Bad Widow, BADDDD! Down girl, down!!!”.

I mean WTF?!?! I’m more than a bit disgusted with myself.

Worse, it’s not the only time it’s happened. I’ve already mentioned that we get a fair amount of Latinos at work right? Well, some of them are damn hot and they don’t really follow the North American loose jean fashion, they wear them well, I’ve always done some ogling, but now it just feels shameful.

My friend K, also a widow, has warned me that a relationship with a man in the next year is a no-no, and I believe her, I can see all kinds of problems arising from that…no pun intended. Plus, I’m no bucket of sunshine right now; anyone who’d want to go out with me in this state is not someone I’d want to be in a relationship with.

…but meanwhile my loins are occasionally being vocal and when they do I feel so guilty, my own body’s betraying me and HIM!

Just because she ownes a silver tea service and
wears pearls does not mean she knows everthing!

And it’s not like there’s any book that covers that particular facet of widowhood. The closest I’ve seen is in my copy of “The Complete Book of Etiquette (A guide to gracious living)” written in 1952 by Amy Vanderbilt (“The foremost authority on manners today”). At the very end of her chapter dealing with funerals she has a paragraph titled “the Resumption of Dating” and states:

“The lonely widow or widower wishing to face realistically the problem of deep personal loss today is, after about 3 months of widowhood, ready for quiet dates with members of the opposite sex. Modern men and women approve such emotionally healthy reaching out for reassurance. In a small, conservative community such dating is limited at first to evenings at home, movies, the theater, musical events, walks and drives, small parties with other couples.”

Yeah, riiiight!

For starters, I’m not lonely, I miss HIM indescribably, but I’ve got friends to attend movies, theater events and small parties with if I wanted to. Evenings at home? That’s exactly what my loins want! And as far as “modern men and women approve such emotionally healthy reaching out”, I can’t think of one friend that wouldn’t be more than a bit startled if I started dating now.

I dunno, Amy has some great advice (I used some of it to write out my post-funeral thank you cards) but I think she’s way off base here.

I guess I’ll just have to accept this as another complication, an unexpected one, on the road of widowhood.

Another thing I need to curb is the god damn “retail therapy”.

I need to be smart about money in this phase of my life, not fashion forward!

Widowhood isn’t solely to blame, about 4 years ago I weighted about 220 lbs, joined a gym and (thanks to C and her great personal trainer skills) am now down to 154. At about 170 lbs I started to kinda like shopping for cloths, I fit into stuff not in the “Plus Sizes” sections at stores. At my current weight it’s almost easy to walk into a store and find something I like on me.

It doesn’t help that I purged a lot of my older (bigger) cloths and needed to buy some new fall/winter wear…actually I think the compulsion to shop is actually pretty much gone, I’m not a total idiot….but there’s this pair of killer boots, seriously savage kicks, that I want. I’ve always been a bit of a boot junky, a great pair of boots looks great no matter what you weigh, and these ones have my name written all over them.

Google “Vince Camuto, Bollo boots”, the ones in brown. No, seriously, do it now!………Ok, so having seen them, can you blame me?!?!?

I can’t justify buying them, I don’t need another pair of boots, and I need to be smart and careful with what money I have…but there’s a part of my brain that’s a whiney 7 yr old, the one you see pitching a fit because Mommy won’t buy her candy at the grocery store, that feels I deserve these boots because HE’s dead. Then there’s the more rational (but still evil) part of my brain that’s trying to rationalize the hell out of the purchase, 1) I deserve these boots because HE’s dead, 2) they’re classics and won’t go out of style for a long time/hold they’re value, 3) I’m pretty much a jeans and t-shirts kind of girl, these boots will dress that look up for certain events, 4) I deserve them because HE’s dead, 5) I get a widow’s allowance, I hate that I get a widow’s allowance, why not save some of it for something I like? I’ll buy the boots as a last blast, then get serious about saving, our wedding anniversary’s coming up, HE owes me. And how low is that?! Using my dead husband to justify a boot purchase?!?!?!

I’ve even done my due diligence and looked at a lot of other less expensive boots to see if there’s something similar that I like at a lesser price. Nope, there isn’t.

Clearly my loins and fashion sense are in league with each other and must be stopped.

Good Girl Gone Tap

Three months ago yesterday HE died. For someone who can’t remember dates/figures I’ve been very cognoscente of how much time has past. Three months ago today, at this time, I was sitting here, watching C and K clean my kitchen, listening to P make phone calls for me and wondering how I was going to get through the day. Three months, I knew last week it had been 11 weeks, but 3 months, its starling.

It’s a weird twilight zone where I know time is passing but it almost feels like it was just last week that I went to the funeral. (Sounds so trite but its true).

Emotionally things have (thankfully) shifted. I’m not rolling through the “7 stages of grieving” daily, I’ll have a few good days, (as in none-crying/sort of have my shit together) then have a bad evening or morning, usually its evenings ‘tho. It’s not so much the Symphony of Suck as bad elevator music playing in the background…it’s till sucks ‘tho…And I am getting better at dealing with telling people I’m a widow, but it’s just damn awkward for everyone involved. Me, them, just a really bad pregnant pause after I say it.

Especially if that person has just inquired if I’m married while asking me out. Yep, had one of those yesterday at work.  I won’t get into all the details but a larger than normal tip was left to make up for the faux pas. And he really felt bad, and I felt bad for him, because how was he to know? It’s not like a go around wearing widow’s weeds or anything. What I did mind was as he was leaving he said “I think you’re a good girl”…. ….???? What the hell is that supposed to mean? And how the fuck would he know solely based on my (excellent) waitressing skills? To add insult to injury my manager told me the same guy asked my idiot co-work, Z, out two weeks before. ICK!

The whole thing is kind of funny and a horrifying glimpse into the current dating scene….I’m very happy to be currently not dating and having a very good reason not to.

Random updates:

-         My first tap class was a few nights ago. I was the only one who had no previous dance or tap experience, actually I think everyone else had previous tap + other dance experience…so, big learning curve. Plus I’m not co-coordinated to begin with. I still had a lot of fun and have arranged to have a “tap tutor” (yeah, I know) to get me up to speed on the basic steps and terms. (All these years I thought it was “ball chain”, turns out its “ball change”, who knew?!). I enjoy being challenged but the basics (which everyone else in class knows) are overwhelming me so a few private lessons should help…I hope! So it was fun but of course I came home to an empty house and HE would have gotten a laugh out of my dance miss-steps. So keeping busy at night’s not exactly solving that problem, I have to come home sometime; I guess I’ll just learn to deal.

-         I have an appointment with my doctor to get a referral for a therapist for the grief counseling. It’s not until the end of the month but I’ve hung on (with massive help from friends) this far so I can sit it out. I think I’m also going to have to talk to him about my sleeping issues; they are better but not great.

-         On a happy note I made it to the gym the last 3 days in a row. I’m sore. It feels good!

Dancing to a New Tune

Nights are tough for me; I think I’ve only mentioned that about a billion times right? It’s not just the “late at night in bed can’t sleep” issues, it’s also what to do with myself after dinner before I go to bed to toss and turn. It’s the same time of night HE would be getting home from work and we would be hanging out, I find myself very restless…. I can read, I can sew, I can practice my Spanish or surf the net, but some of these things take a certain amount of concentration, which I don’t have much of these days. And TV is out since we don’t even have basic cable and renting movies has been a pretty big gamble lately.

Tap Dogs

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRUdvu3Qo-E&feature=related

So, to help fill up my nights I’ve signed up for…..tap dancing lessons….

Yep, tap.

Saturday my Mom and I went to buy me tap shoes, which makes me feel like a 12 year old, but in a good way.

Why tap?

Ballet holds no interest for me, at all, jazz is out because I’m not a fan of the music, I don’t even know what “lyrical” dance is, and at 42 I think I’m a bit too old to be learning how to “crunk” in a hip hop class. Tap it is. It seems like a good combination of fun and “stompy”, which suits me just fine.  Plus, years ago HE took me to the big city to see Tap Dogs, if you’ve never heard of them check out the link below the pic. Tres cool in my opinion.

My parents visit went fairly well to, they seem to have accepted the fact that I’m A) Not ready to start college/find a new career this exact month and B) That everything that needed to be sorted out here at home has been. So we’ve just been hanging out, it’s been pleasant. I used my new camera to distract Dad, (unfortunately that led to him downloading the pix on my computer and him feeling the need to “fix” my computer, and by “fix” I mean him downloading programs he feels are essential and re-organizing things the way he likes them) and Mom puttered around in a non-invasive way.

Before leaving they mentioned their next visit might be in November, possibly December depending on my Christmas plans, which gives me a kind of a deadline for figuring out my game plan for what comes next in my life. School? New job? Running away to join a circus? The options are endless and terrifying. And I know it’s a repetitive and maybe boring theme of this blog but it’s a big fucking issue/problem that I need to sort out.

It’s also made me question whether or not I was just drifting along while HE was alive? I think yes, I could have been more pro-active in the last few years with work/a career but just merrily drifted along as a waitress in a small restaurant in a small town. Don’t get me wrong, the money’s ok, waitressing’s great, but I could have pushed myself more, towards more, and it makes me sad that I’m doing it now and didn’t do it with HIM, for us.

The Grind

I’m half way through working 4 split shifts in a row, that’s 4 days of 10am ‘till 8 or 9 pm at work with maybe an hour or two break in between lunch and dinner. It’s tiring, physically but also mentally. Try being bright and cheerful for 10 or 11 hours straight, 4 days in a row, it’s hard, particularly now. Particularly when a couple come in and mention that they’ve been married 50 years. That’s something I’ll never with HIM, we won’t grow old together. That shook me up, and I feel bad because it’s not like this couple meant anything by the comment, they were just passing on happy news.

A good friend mentioned this kind of problem in an e-mail recently, that there is no way I can stay safe from hearing or witnessing situations that I will find heartbreaking or depressing. And he’s right, short of becoming a shut in I’ll have to find a way of dealing with it.

Speaking of “dealing with it” I did decide to take up our car insurance company’s option of grief counseling. Three weeks and two phone messages later I got a message on my answering machine that I needed my family Doctor to refer me to someone, preferably who specializes in grief counseling and that maybe OHIP would cover it….I’m assuming if OHIP doesn’t then the insurance company will but that wasn’t mentioned. So I guess the days of bending over backwards for the grieving widow are over with on that front. It kind of pisses me off. Why wouldn’t they have a list of grief counselors already on file for different areas? I’m hoping what kind of passes as my “family Doctor “ can do this over the phone, if not I’ll have to make an appointment for several months down the road and hope the 6 month time frame stipulated by the insurance company doesn’t pass. Anyhow, I’ll follow through on this and let you know how it goes.

Also, my parents are heading over for another visit. My Dad’s cousin is celebrating his 90^th birthday next weekend about 2 hours from here. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with them? The house is pretty much done as far as organizing/re-arranging and I’m not ready to tackle the things we have stored at the barn. So….? Sit around and have my parents talk about my future?

Right, because I’m not stressed about that already. And I will be dealing with it, but they are very big on me going back to school, taking a Microsoft Suite course that they feel will set me up for working in an office. I have nothing against the idea of office work, in the right office, but the course is two thousand dollars, and I’m not sure that’s an effective use of the money….Actually, I think I’ve already bitched and blogged about this before?

Anyhow, my parents are visiting and I’m already completely stressed out about it. They’re well meaning, but there’s nothing they can help me with right now.

I’m trying to think of something positive right now, instead of all this doom and gloom….

…Wanna hear about the last time I went to the gym? Yeah, things are conspiring to keep me from working out.

evil dwells here too

So I go to the gym, all motivated and shit to work out. Get to the gym and lock my water bottle in my locker, which has the keys to the locker attached to it. This means I’ve also locked up my house keys. Go to the front desk and ask K for the spare, there are about 50 spare keys, none of them for my locker…K calls C who thinks she might know where the spares are she’ll be there asap, which was only an hour before an appointment I had to make. Completely stressed I decided to hop on the treadmill while I waited, 10 minutes in my bra strap breaks….sigh….I’m a 38 D, jogging without maximum support is kind of a no-go. K tried to fix it for me, while we talked about possibly breaking into, or kicking down C’s office door to find that spare key. She couldn’t get the strap fixed so I when to the bathroom to fix it myself and realized my work out short, Lululemon work out shorts, give me massive camel-toe…ACK!!!! 

Three strikes, I’m DONE!

Happily K’s husband dropped by and managed to MacGyver the locker with a coat hanger. I’m with him when the zombie apocalypse happens.

All’s well that ends well, ‘tho I’m never buying another pair of Lulu work out shorts again.

Inappropriate Quote of the day:

 “If it’s got tits, a keyboard or hydraulic suspension it’s going to be complicated.”

Thank you F for passing this along. I can’t argue with it, ‘tho I think for my own purposes I’m changing it to “if it’s got tits, a dick, a keyboard or hydraulic suspension it’s going to be complicated”.

“I’m siiiiick!” That’s what I’d whine to HIM when he got home from work. Then he’d ask what I’d want for dinner and I’d say “I don’t knowwww”. Then HE’d run through his repertoire of comfort foods and, despite a long day and a long drive, he’d get down the business making me something like homemade mac and cheese.

‘Course, none of that will be happening….being sick sucks, being sick without someone to whine to a little bit and make you homemade mac and cheese really sucks.

I hate being sick, I've got zero energy. I don't feel like doing anything, but I don't feel like doing nothing either.

The Rules

I think it’s time to do a rundown on them and see how I’m doing.

-         NO more cats. I’ve now driven by a few “free kittens” signs and have not fallen to temptation, I think we’re clear of that one.

-         NO tattoos for 10 months, incase I wanted to go that “”commemorative” route. See post below.

-         NO neck tattoos EVER. No problem.

-         NO puppies, P thought her Jack Russell might be in the family way with a Beagle. P’s dog wasn’t preggers, bullet dodged.

-         NO Face Book for 36 hours (I had a wild compulsion to post “Due to the upcoming zombie apocalypse we have decided on cremation”.) I never posted it and am sporaticaly back on FB, mainly to answer PMs or things people have posted to me.

-         No big changes of address, like moving to Saudi Arabia. Saudi Arabia, no problem…Tempted by Belgium ‘tho.

-         Don’t be afraid to get counseling/therapy. I phoned and left a message about getting some.

-         No men for at least a year. I still laugh at the idea.

-         Set alarm for a reasonable hour and get out of bed within 20 min of it going off. I’ve been waking up before my alarm goes off. I’ll be a happy girl the day I over-sleep.

-         No slopping around the house in pjs all day. Put on a bra, and get dressed. I do, and sometimes it’s even fancy gitch.

-         Breakfast, daily, before 10am. A bit of a problem here, my eating habits are pretty much in the garbage and breakfasts aren’t really happening.

-         Basic hygiene is mandatory, makeup is not. I put on a little bit of makeup for work the other day, I think that’s a good sign.

-         Check garden daily, weed and water as needed. My veggies and potted plants are well attended, the front garden not so much, It’s the one that contains the roses HE was waiting to bloom.

-         Shave legs every 3 days. More like “Nick my legs every 3 days”.

-         No assault charges. In fact lets change that to “No criminal charges”, and so far, so good.

Ok, so I’m doing pretty good.

I need to get my eating back on track. BHD I was eating pretty healthy but since cooking depresses me and I hate my kitchen to begin with I haven’t really been motivated to do much.

Also need to weed that front garden, its more weeds than visible flowers right now.

Problem is, most of those rules were from when I was in survival mode, I think I’m past that now? I mean they’re good rules to keep following but I’m past the point of seeing nothing but HIS death. I need to figure out my life.

 I need some rules on my finances. I’m too tempted to do retail therapy, part of me is saying “fuck it, HE died, you deserve to buy what you want”. Another part of me is well aware I need to be very careful/smart with what money there is to make sure I’ll be ok down the road. I’ll need to set some goals/deadlines about looking for more/better work, and different courses I can take…makes cleaning out the Basement of Doom seem fun filled by comparison.

Tattoo You

M’s husband, CHF, has always been heavily into music, he plays drums, to this day, to his neighbors delight I’m sure. Anyhow, there’s always music playing at their place and he usually has great taste…except that William Shatner CD he insists on playing at least once every time I visit….

Anyhow, he played some Arcade Fire while I was up, lent me the “Funeral” CD (ya, I know, bad coincidence) to listen to and when I got home from the cottage I bought it off iTunes. The cover art has given me an idea for my “widow’s tattoo”. (Oh come on, like there was ever any doubt I was going to get one?!?!?...pffft….please…)

Before it happened I was juggling the idea of getting another one, so it’s not so much a “widow’s tat”, I just like the term and am running with it. Anyways, a few years ago I found a quote I loved, which seems very, very appropriate now. But I was just mulling it over, didn’t know where to have it placed and what should surround the quote, if anything. Both the feathers and the scrolls in the album cover art tie in well with HIS life, I just need to spiff up the art work, it’s too primitive as is.

Now I’ve got an idea to base it from. And based on the rule “no tats for 10 months”, I’ve got 8 months to figure out the artwork, placement on my body and find a tat artist who can pull it off. And most importantly decide if I really want it done. But I think I do, I was thinking of doing it before he died anyhow.  

Also following the rule “no neck tats EVER”, it won’t be on my neck. I’d like to have it on my upper back, nice piece of virgin canvas there, but you pay a lot of money for tats and on the back and I’ll never see it. (And I don’t care if anybody else sees it, but I want to). My upper arm’s an option, but I don’t know if I’m the kind of girl who can pull that off without looking “butch”….plus my Mom might kill me.

My leg’s another option, but there’s the Mom issue again, and let’s face it, she’s 71 and has had enough to get upset about lately.

I’m seriously considering my rib cage, I can see it, only those I want to show will be able to, and it’s also a nice firm piece of virgin canvas….problem is it’s next door neighbours to my breasts, which look good in the right bra but at 42 yrs old and 38D they are a little worse for wear…stupid gravity. I don’t want to get a great tat that’s half covered by bra strapping when I look at it, or that looks great if it weren’t for the saggy breasts right beside. I mean, I earned my wrinkles, I don’t have any issue with them, but saggy breasts are just depressing.

Again, it’s a location problem…and what really sucks is that BHD I would have told HIM all of the above and HE would have come up with a great suggestion, and helped me with the artwork. I guess I’ll just do an opinion poll with a few close friends.

Friends don’t let friends get bad tattoos.

In other news: My new bedroom furniture arrived, I like it as much in my room as I liked it in the store. My cloths are all in one room now, I just have to get used to which drawers I put them in. And I hung some pictures up, badly, but their up.

The room feels like mine, well, mine and the cats. For whatever reason they’re spending more time there then they did in our room, even BHD? Anyways, I like my room.

It’s a start.