Slightly Ironic

Over the last few days, I've found myself in the position of doling out personal advice. I've blogged about this before, just last week, in fact. I have friends, both that I can readily see and those of the computer game kind, who have come to me with problems. Generally, all they seek is an ear and, if there is one thing I can do, it's listen and listen well.

I have been the beneficiary of friends listening to my tales of woe. Of late, they seem to come fast and furious and I sometimes wonder if another tale of a pothole is one tale too many. Still, you come back to see what I'm up to and I'm eternally grateful for that. The least I can do is listen to others.

I've heard some heart-wrenching stuff of late. I have the friends who are unemployed, going on years, not months; good, honest, talented, smart people who cannot find a job. I've listened to the fears that this is their lot in life and they are, truly, scared. I've listened to friends or family of those unemployed; their fears that this trial before them will tear their family apart simply because of the stress associated with lack of income and forced togetherness.

I've listened to tales of familial distress. Some things we do to those in our family are amongst the cruelest, most hurtful things I've ever heard. I know I am hearing just one side of the story, still standing up at a Saturday evening barbecue and calling your sister a "whore" to her face in front of 15 other people is not designed to do anything but hurt and she was massively hurt. I know. The sister poured out her feelings to me two days later.

Lately, I've been hearing the stories about broken hearts. I find this rather ironic. I have long since swept up the remains of my shattered heart and moved on. The people talking to me know I'm divorced and have been for a long time. They also know that while I would love someone in my life, I haven't found that person. I hardly feel in a position to comment on someone else's love life, yet here I am, listening and then being asked to provide advice.

The tales I've heard, of dreams dashed and betrayal and lies and deceit, have caused me to reflect on my life. It's very little consolation to tell someone, "There are more fish in the sea" when they have just had their heart stomped on. "They weren't the right person for you," also isn't much consolation when you thought they were right when you were together.

I have decided to take the tact that none of the sayings anyone tosses your way when you're going through a break-up makes you feel any better. As I've learned with finances, it is what it is. I have recommended people spend time finding something each day that makes them happy. I have suggested they pick a time each day to go into the bathroom, close the door and just wallow in their grief, because it is grief. You are grieving what you thought would be a relationship. Set a timer and allow yourself that amount of time to wallow, wail, cry, carry-on. When the bell goes off, you're done for the day. Move on to something else.

I tell them, there is no harm in being alone. Alone-ness is not a scary spot to be in. In that alone-ness, you find out things about yourself you never knew. I didn't realize I was as resourceful as I am. Things aren't working out the way I had dreamed my life would, but I'm doing the best I can. Yes, it would be nice to share this journey, to come home and have someone there to chat with. But, as I tell those who have come to me seeking an ear, if the alternative is someone who will lie to your face or cheat on you behind your back, isn't alone-ness preferable?

So, my can that collects nickles is always out and, like Lucy, I just need to take my position behind the desk. I think I'm astute enough to say that you need more help than just my ear can provide. Sometimes, however, a stool in front of a friend is all you need.

That will be 5 cents, please.

Beverage: Dr Pepper

Deb

Down to my last bottle.

I don't consume that much alcohol. The days are long gone when being drunk was a part of life. It wasn't that I spent college in an alcohol-induced stupor, but I think getting drunk and dealing with a hang-over are part of the college experience. For some people, it's a way of life. How sad. But for others of us, we do it, have the experience, decide it's awful and never do it again. I fall into this latter category.

Now, that being said, I will drink for a buzz and a couple two or even three drinks when I know the farthest I have to go is down the hall or up the stairs or make it to the elevator and then to room 625. Getting drunk, however, not for me. As the aphorism says, "Been there. Done that. Bought the t-shirt."

I do, however, enjoy alcohol, particularly when it's the weekend and I'm raiding with my World of Warcraft guild, Spectacular Death. We have a camaraderie that lends itself, even over a virtual world where the only way I know these people is by the sound of their voice coming through my computer, to the cheer from a brew. Several like to imbibe more than (cough) a couple and the resulting hi jinx produced our guild's slogan, "Whoops!".

I have alcohol in the house but it's not the kind I'm wont to drink straight out of the bottle. I bought the stuff because I had a recipe that used 2 tablespoons of it, like the hazelnut basted fish, or, as with the hazelnut liqueur, I prefer it with cold 7Up, which I don't have. So, I drink a lot of tea on raiding nights or my current favorite is fruit juice with club soda. All the fizz with half the calories and sugar.

Back around Memorial Day, I had a wee bit of extra cash and I treated myself to some brews. Robert the Bruce Scottish Ale I have linked to before. These, below, are the other brews I purchased, stuck in the back of the fridge, behind the milk, and drank about every 2 or 3 weeks.

The one on the left is the last bottle in the fridge. I drank the Wee Heavy over the weekend. I really liked the Old Engine Oil, but I like my beers to be dark with a bite to them. If you notice, these are all Scottish beers. (Robert the Bruce is a "Scottish-style" ale brewed in Muncie, Indiana.) While Scotland is usually associated with whiskey, I'm not all that fond of that brew. I do like Scottish beers, however. They have character.

I'm on the fence about consuming the Dark Island. Perhaps I should save it but Carole comes for a visit this weekend and sharing a beer with my daughter would be lovely. Granted, a 12 ounce bottle isn't going to yield a huge amount of beer to be split, but it's about the sharing, not the quantity.

Once the Dark Island is gone, it will be awhile until I can replenish stocks. That's not necessarily a bad thing. I have ample tea supplies to last through the end of the year and tea keeps me sharp while playing the game.

But there is something nice about lifting a glass and asking, "So, what's everyone drinking tonight?" It's almost as if we're sitting around a table after dinner sharing food and friendship.

Wine is sunlight, held together by water. ~Galileo

Beverage: (since I'm at work) Dr Pepper

Deb

Whole lotta breakfast

I was out of some stuff so I made a grocery run on Friday after work. For the first time in awhile, I actually checked the ad from the Wednesday paper to see what was on sale. Surprise! There were many things on sale that I had on the list. Talk about luck.

A notation was made in my luck journal. I find grocery shopping mildly annoying. While I don't shop for jeans or bedding or even a new computer when things aren't on sale, I have to buy food and it's not always on sale what you would like to eat or need to have in the house.

If I bought $10 worth of groceries, I could get Special K on sale, with a coupon, for $1.99. That is a great deal. There was a limit of 4, so I got 4. I'll be eating this for awhile.

Chocolate for breakfast. Life is good.

Beverage: Irish Breakfast Tea

Deb

Cats are another form of liquid.

This isn't my saying. I purloined this from Carole's friend, Phillip. His family got an Abyssinian, Cleo, who was all legs and a tail when she was little. I don't think I had seen a more lithe cat. If she didn't want to be held, she seemed to pour herself out of your arms.

This is a perfectly Pilchard-sized box. Isn't she cute? I had a bunch of clan stuff in this box and have consolidated that down to a smaller box. Pilchard has taken to this box and, if I can't find her, I'm trying to remember to check this box. At night, when the lights are off in the living room, there is almost no way to tell she's in the box without reaching in.

In spite of her size, I watched her pour herself off the deck yesterday, much to my consternation. It was a wonderful day and I thought we could sit on the deck for a couple of hours. I'm almost through with the Scottish ghosts book so I would read and they would sun themselves. We'd all get some fresh air.

I put the kid gate across the steps leading off the deck and sat down in the shade of the house. Mija came out, sniffed around and decided she preferred to lie in the doorway inside the house. That's fine. Pilchard came out, sniffed around and stuck her head through the slats in the deck. Now these are, admittedly, I didn't measure them, roughly 3-4 inches apart. They are too small for a child to stick their head through and get caught. While Pilchard can get her head through, the rest of her is too wide to fit through the slats, or so I thought.

We hadn't been outside more than 4 pages in the book and she slid right through the slats and onto the ground. Fortunately, there were all these smells that needed to be smelled so she was preoccupied and didn't move. I scooped her up and inside the house we went. "Sorry. I can't trust you to stay on the deck. We can't be outside now," I said, not that she understood.

So, I shelved the book and set about cleaning. I changed the sheets on the bed, started washing the rugs from the living room and then brought clean clothes up from the basement. I discovered this.
This is a lump under the sheets. Shakespeare and Half-Pint used to do this, too. Mija has climbed up onto the bed via under the sheet. I don't have a blanket on the bed because it's too warm. It's folded at the foot but I'll often sleep without covers in the summer.

I just had to laugh. Typical cat behavior. I slowly picked up a corner and said, "Peek". She winked at me and batted at my fingers. We wrestled for a few seconds and then she jumped down. Ten minutes later, I found her curled up on top of the clean clothes I left on the bed to put away later.

In the way? Sometimes. Single-minded or bull-headed? Yes, occasionally. But, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Beverage: Irish Breakfast tea

Deb