The Thing That Scares You!

So - this is a little something different! Make sure you read ALL THE WAY thru for some amazing blogs and prizes! YES! Prizes! 

In SPIRAL, Nessa confronts her fears about getting close to Aron by reminding herself of her father's motto: "Always do the thing that scares you." 

It's probably a saying all of us could use from time to time, and in the spirit of Mila's new book, "SPIRAL," I've joined some friends to write about the thing I did that scared me. 

Um, this is sort of hard. I've done a lot of things that have scared the sweet be-jesus out of me, but I was too dumb, stubborn busy to notice. But the last one - ahhh. That was both well calculated and absolutely terrifying.

So, let me start off by saying I have NOT had the best of luck with men. Or maybe I should say I've had too much luck with men. I've sort of been married too much. Yeah. Me and Liz. *sigh*

However - when I met The Man Behind The Curtain, things changed. He was wonderful, amazing, generous, kind, supportive. Yeah, all that and a hunk. We met at work, and my work meant I travelled a lot. Like, for months on end. The first three years we were together, I was gone more than I was home. I went to Texas (three times), Connecticut (twice), San Diego (four times), Philadelphia (seven times), Miami (twice) and Jacksonville (three times). I travelled A LOT. 

Then, I moved into a new position at work and I was home. A LOT. I even worked from home two days a week. Of course, when I did go in to the office, I worked way too many hours. He would call me at 6 p.m. (having been there since 6 a.m.) and tell me to turn off the computer and come home. And he'd have dinner waiting. 

I know, right? What a guy! 

And I left him again. 

And that's what I did that scared me.

We were really, really happy. We'd been together longer than any two of my previous marriages combined. It was all sooooo good. And I was offered a job all the way across the country. Like, move from right coast to left coast across the country. 

I had made a point of telling The Man Behind The Curtain that I was going back to California someday. My entire family was there, including my son who had just left the military. And the job was in San Diego. SAN DIEGO!!! 

It was an amazing opportunity; I was being given the chance to be the Quality Manager at a major shipyard. I was being given the chance to be the FIRST woman Quality Manager of a shipyard that anyone had ever known. Me! Little Ol' Me! But there was a catch (isn't there always): My company was sending me six months on temp assignment, and if it didn't work out, they would "find something for me to work on." This meant no relocation expenses and no guarantees. Pretty scary, right? 

No, that was not the scariest part. 

See, The Man Behind The Curtain was all for me taking the chance. He was all about me taking advantage of this opportunity, even though there was no safety net. And folks, we didn't exactly have any other kind of safety net, financial or otherwise. And he told me (prepare to mist) that he had his career, it was my turn. Really. He said that.

So, we loaded up the Honda  and drove across the country. We enjoyed the drive. We enjoyed spending time together. We enjoyed the three days in California together before he had to fly back. To our house. Our dog. Our friends. His job - which had no possibility of transferring. 

And the hardest thing? The thing that scared me the most? Leaving him at the airport for his flight back to Virginia. See, that was the point, the exact moment in time when I realized I was leaving the one thing I never wanted to leave: Him. 

I was good at leaving. I was a professional, actually. Like the main character in my first novel, I was the one who always left when things got too difficult, too complicated or too painful. But this time, this time I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to run away and end things. And I was terrified that I had just screwed up the best thing that had ever happened to me. I was so scared and so upset, I had to pull over on the side of the freeway and bang my hands on the steering wheel and cry. Really cry. I don't cry, folks. But I did then. 

It was awful. The job was more challenging than I ever imagined. I was working crazy mad hours, not sleeping well, not eating well, not taking care of myself. But everyday, at the same time, I would get these amazing phone calls, and I would be reminded that I could do this. I could live three-thousand miles away from the only person I ever really wanted in my life. I could do the job no one else wanted and I could make a difference in a company that almost shut down because of Quality and I could come out the other end a better person. Because he believed in me. And in us. 

And now, seven years later, here we are. We made it. I made it, because I took a chance on the thing that scared me the most - commitment. Commitment to him, no matter how far apart we were. Commitment to his belief in me. Commitment to being the person he saw in me. 

And you know what's really cool? I mean, besides the fact that he still cooks dinner and is still a hunk? He believes in my writing, in this whole "book" thing I'm trying to do. He even shushes me and sends me up to the computer to write. And you know what? I'm not scared anymore!

Here's more about Mila's amazing new book, "SPIRAL"

Nessa Cavanaugh, psychology student, knows how to stay on an even keel. Despite the urging of her mother and her academic advisor to get a life and have some fun, “all work and no play” sums up her plan to survive her grueling internship year at a children's hospital. She doesn't want to end up like her father, whose constant ups and downs broke her family, and avoiding unnecessary emotional entanglements is a must.

Then she (literally) runs into Dr. Aron Lindstrom in the middle of her disastrous first day on the job. The attraction is instant—and terrifying. Nessa knows she should stay away—especially when she finds out he has a reputation for being a player—but Aron is brilliant, intense, and as sexy as they come. When he challenges her to take a chance on him, her plans to stay focused on work start to crumble.

But what begins as passion takes on a dangerous edge, becoming an emotional roller coaster that’s frighteningly familiar. As things spiral out of control, Nessa must decide whether she should hold on for the ride or run … even if it means leaving her heart behind.

Now - check out the other bloggers revelations of things they were a'scared of, as well as a chance to win a $50 gift card, copies of Mila's new book and some sweet swag!!!

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Because I woke up feeling good...

It's Father's Day -

I miss my dad. He's been gone 21 years now and I still miss him; in those small parts of me that I don't have to feel or use everyday.

But that's okay, because I know he's never really gone, as long as I think of him.

And I woke up feeling really good this morning - after the sinus head-ache went away and I had three cups of coffee in me.

And The Man Behind The Curtain took The Terrorist on a walk, letting me sit around longer in my nightgown and play on the computer.

I wished him a happy Father's Day, too. Even though he's not the father of my child, he's a great father to all three of our kids, a terrific Papa to our twin grand-babies and, of course, to our kid-with-fur (aka The Terrorist).

My friend, Mark, over at markkoopmans.blogspot.com did a nice Father's Day tribute that everyone should see. Mark's a great dad as well - you can tell by the way he writes about it.

So, here's to Sundays Feeling Good, Father's Day and Fathers-at-large, and to my Dad. Cuz I love him. And Michael B ain't too bad either!

Careful what you wish for...

This whole week has been screwy.

Not in a "slightly off kilter, can't get my feet on the ground" way, but in a "what the fuck did I think I was doing?" way. Add auditory hallucinations and you've got screwy.

It didn't start out that way. In fact, it started out pretty normal. Like, June Cleaver normal. You know, kind of a mash-up of Brady Bunch, Gilmore Girls, It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia? Because that's how my life rolls, most of the time.

Work was normal. My minions attempted to tell me how well they were managing and I conveyed my usual faith in their abilities.

My husband was overworked, overstressed and overly horny, and I employed my always hugely supportive tactics to help him relax.

And I continued on in my normal, professional and efficient way ...

So, what's so screwy about that? Well let me tell you: I got another request for a full manuscript. At 5 o'clock in the morning. I know, what the hell am I doing up at 5 a.m.? Honey, if I have to explain my normal biorhythms to you, you ain't been readin' my blog enough!

Anyway - so, there I am, reading this request, freaking out because I only pitched it on a whim and totally didn't expect to get a request for a full (there's a serious life lesson there, folks!) and my CP is off partying her brain to slush while I've got a manuscript to polish. 

No, I don't blame CP - well, except for not taking me with her, but that's another story. 

I've got six loads of laundry to do, toilets to clean, a dog to walk, victuals to procure and oh, by the way, I'm hearing random buzzing sounds throughout the house. 

Like, bee buzzing sounds. 

Have I told you I'm allergic to bee's? As in, "free trip to the hospital" allergic? 

And before you ask, hell no, I do not have one of those cute little Epi-pens because in 52 years of living I've only been stupid enough to get stung once. Hence the awareness of the allergic reaction. Yeah - makes me look all: 

So - yeah, it's a weird fuckin' week. And I'm sitting here, trying to ignore the buzzing sound, trying to polish my manuscript before I submit it, wondering how long I can delay sending it in and, oh yeah - I'm outa scotch. 

Fuck. It's going to be a bitch of a weekend. 

Late breaking news: The Man Behind The Curtain has returned from slaying dragons, bearing bottles of scotch and rum. My attitude (and the buzzing in my head) has melted away. 

Freedom...

There's a certain sort of freedom that comes from a long holiday weekend. A loosening of the intellectual and civil mind. A relaxing of the norms and standards with which we live our day-to-day lives. A celebration of nowhere to go, no schedule to keep and no social obligations beyond being a good neighbor, a civil partner and a reliable friend.

I find this freedom especially rewarding on days such as today. It's the day before I leave with The Man Behind The Curtain (TMBTC) and The Terrorist on our annual migration to The Lake. We always take an extra day before and after this holiday. Extra time to buy the groceries, get the camper ready, pack the clothes and dream about what we won't be doing while we are up there.

We won't be answering phones or email because there is no phone or email service.

We won't be preparing healthy, fully balanced meals because our appetites rage more in the carnivore and junk food range.

We won't be worrying about our cholesterol or our waist lines because we will be hiking and playing games and strolling about talking to our camping neighbors and we always come back weighting less than when we went.

I won't be writing, because TMBTC prohibits it. I will be reading, because books are always allowed, every where, every time. I will be talking smack over games of cards or Ringer, kicking back, drinking prodigious amounts of adult beverages, running several miles each day along the lake shore while he walks The Terrorist and thinks about fishing.

Usually that's all he does: thinks about it. Even if he loads up his tackle box and rod, he doesn't really fish. He's too much like me; more interested in soaking up the clean mountain air, enjoying the sunshine, the birds, the wildlife and the friendly folks around us. We've been going up there for six years and he has yet to actually "fish." But he can if he wants to, because he too has the freedom to do whatever he wants.

And we earned it.

It's Memorial Day, and we've both earned it.

It's our day.

Our fathers and grandfathers day. Even our kids' day. We've all served our country. We've all sacrificed time and memories and holidays and our health and even, some of us, our lives to ensure that every one of us has this freedom - this choice to do or not do.

So here's to us, and to you. Here's to those who did and did not come home. Here's to those we are still serving as we ensure our Navy has safe ships that operate on time, every time. Here's to those who struggle to face the freedoms and the memories that come with them, to remember what this day is about and for, and to be grateful that we are free, and can take an extra couple of days off and go to the lake. And drink. And talk smack.

Oh yeah. There will be much smack-talking as our twelve year running Gin-rummy game takes on another year.

Happy Memorial Day - remember those who gave it to you and be safe out there!

How's about a little "30 Seconds To Mars" to get things started? Hell yeah!

Saturday - Because I want to...

Yes - I am nuts. Certifiable. Splendiferously. Commitably. I am a totally OCD, schizophrenic mad woman who love, Love, LOVES her life. So sue me. Not that I'm worth anything, but still...

Today is just one of those days that makes me want to do everything, at once, and dance while I'm doing it. Can't help it - it's just that nice a day. A real 'getting my money out of living in San Diego' kind of day. It goes something like this:

Get to sleep in with out the Terrorist jumping on my bladder because his bladder is full.

Stumble downstairs and The Man Behind The Curtain greets me with a cheerful, warm smile and a mug of fresh, strong, delicious coffee.

The sun is shining, a soft breeze is blowing in from the coast and it's about 68 degrees. Perfect.

And it looked like this:

Enjoy two cups of coffee on the deck, Terrorist curled in my lap, then lace up the sneakers and head out for a walk/jog.

Knee feels great for the first time in a year. No more 'ground glass' ache, even on the down hill. Having quit smoking after the nasty cold earlier this month, lungs feel pretty damn good too. The Man Behind The Curtain takes the Terrorist's leash from me and says "go, run. I know you want to." And I do. So I did.

And it looked like this:

Finish a walk/jog combo of about 2 1/2 miles and still feel great. Hop in the car and go get groceries. MMMM! Seedless watermelon, 2 for $3...fresh cherries, peaches and apricots, a pound of strawberries for $1, assortment of decadent cheeses, Korean ribs for the Bar-B-Q. My mouth is watering already.

Back from the store, The Man Behind The Curtain says "go, write. I know you want to." And I do. So I did.

He puts the groceries away. He starts the ribs for this evening. He cuts up the watermelon and cleans the strawberries. He brings me a plate of fruit and cheese. He says "keep writing. I know you want to." And I do. So I am.

And it's only 11:30 in the morning.

Honestly - does it get any more fucking perfect than this?

And it looks ...

OMG, I Fucking Love This!

Okay, I had to offer this up to all of you. I love reading Kelly's posts at http://dysfunctionallyfun.blogspot.com/. I found her via the April A to Z Challange and have been checking back ever since.

Today, she linked to http://www.flyingplatypi.com/2013/05/i-dont-care-how-much-floral-print-girl.html by Valerie Nunez (sorry about not inserting the little linky things - I'm writing this at work and don't have all the cool bloggity bells and whistles. Fucking cheap ass government). I read it and literally choked on my coffee - no shit. I had to get a roll of paper towels to clean off my keyboard.

See, my husband HATES Taylor Swift. Now, you've probably read my discussion about using the word "hate" and are aware I rarely succumb to it's tidal pull. So, while The Man Behind The Curtain harbors deep, abiding malice towards her person, I merely experience momentary periods of intense discomfort and the urge to puncture my ear drums. That's not hate - that's just annoyance.

So when I read this - I knew I had to share it. I knew I had to broadcast it to the world. Go - read. Laugh your ass off. I did. And I feel better - really. And I will now proceed to burn every floral print article of clothing in my wardrobe. TTFN!

I.O.U.

Okay, I owe you a post. But this ain't it. It's not happening today. Cuz I'm sick.

See, I had to fly to the east coast for work this week. Last weekend, while meeting with my Critique Partner I mentioned the trip. CP, who is my CP (really, her initials are CP) mentioned how much she disliked flying because of being cooped up with everyone else's germs. I scoffed at her remark and boldly stated "I don't get sick." Yeah, you know the rest.

God has a crappy sense of humor.

I made it through the first 2 days of meetings. I actually made it in for the third day of meetings, after stopping at Walmart for some serious cold meds and throat lozenges. I didn't make it in Friday. I barely made it to the plane to fly home today. When Hubs picked me up at the airport he poured me into the truck, drove me home and tucked me on the couch with a hot mug of something (I'm pretty sure there's booze in it) and my laptop.

What a guy - he knows how dedicated I am to you guys and that I hadn't made my normal Saturday post.

So - this is it. This is all your getting today. I'll make it up to you, promise. Soon as I'm done hacking my lungs out.

Z?

Z. Zero. Zenith. Zen. Interesting, three words with related concepts.

Zero: denoting the absence of magnitude or quantity. A state of total absence or neutrality.

Zenith: a culminating point, the highest point reached or reachable.

Zen: neither the absence nor the culmination of achievement. Zen is transcendent of measure and evaluation.

Here, at the end of the A to Z Blog Challenge, I have found a sort of Zen. I am no longer at the beginning, but I am not at the end, either. I have not reached the heights of the blogosphere, nor have I fallen into the pit of disdain.

I am, actually, in a pleasant place where I have followers, friends and visitors stopping by frequently enough to satisfy my ego (and yes, we all have one), but not so frequently as to be difficult to keep up with. I'm still able to personally address each comment and answer emails or tweets from my faithful few, without being so overwhelmed that I run from all social media with my hands in the air. It's a pleasant place to be.

The A to Z has been all that it's name implies: a challenge. I was truly surprised by the difficulty of blogging every day, to a specific subject, even though the only guidelines are the alphabet. I under appreciated the time and commitment it would take to prepare and post each and every day. And I wanted each post to matter. To amuse, enlighten, enrich and enable any and all who stopped by to read it. I wanted you to know the thought that went into each post. I fear, unfortunately, there were a few days when I let you down, but I also believe, overall you were pleased with what you found.

My little blog went from three dedicated followers to eighteen. From a little under two-hundred hits to well over a thousand. From a few desultory, self-indulgent posts to over thirty (hopefully) well written anecdotes.


I have found friends and followers around the globe, in places I never expected: South Africa, Spain, Ireland and Malaysia for a few.

 And the posts with the most hits and comments? See for yourself:
Posts

Entry	Pageviews
Whiskey... (For Steve - can we do Norfolk again?) Apr 25, 2013,	45
Quality in Writing Apr 19, 2013,	31
Unpublished does not mean Unread Apr 23, 2013,	26
Nihilism and the Boston Marathon...My A to Z post ... Apr 15, 2013,	23
Surprising success and an early "S" post Apr 21, 2013,	22

So, yes; it's been a Zen like experience. One I hope to repeat and grow better at. I hope you'll stick around for the ride. I really do. Because I like hearing from you, I like meeting you, and I really, really like writing for you.

Warmly, 

Barbara and "The Man Behind the Curtain"
(No, I am not married to Mike Ditka or any of his relations!)