The Knitting Journeyman

Gathering Up One Thread At A Time As I Weave This Web Of Mine.....

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Rambling and Rambling And More Rambling (thanks for listening)

Yesterday was a busy day busy day…so much to get done and so much yet I did not accomplish….but not for lack of trying on my part.  I did finally find E’s winter clothes.  I had moved them to a smaller container, so I could use the bigger one for the denim and felted sweaters I was planning to turn into a denim quilt and a felted sweater blanket.  Those plans are still in the planning stage as yet, although they are going to stay on hold for quite a bit.  At least until after we move and are all settled into our new house. 
I finally managed to get into the storage room and clear stuff out.  I am not going through the magazines as fast as I planned…although I am going through them.  It does seem the mouse issue has been resolved.  Electronic pest repellers are awesome.  Not to mention all the other stuff I used in that particular room.  But hey—we be mouse free here now.  And I think thanking the snakes outside as well is in order….since there are a bunch of newly built snake holes all over the place outside….
I had such a good month with work last month.  Yes, we are saving for a house.  Yes, I am still thinking about getting a car—I still think my nerves are too raw to drive, but we’ll get there when we get there.  I know once snow and ice touch ground here, I won’t go near a vehicle.  Not to drive it.  ANYWAY!
I have been trapped in the weirdest relationships since I was a teen-ager.  (Which, not counting my current bf, totals three—one of which I do not like to count because did it even last three months?  Hey, rebounds are like that…that’s my excuse and I am sticking to it…)  I grew up in the 80s, the decade of power suits for woman.  The big broad bulky shoulders (and even then I ripped the shoulder pads out of my shirts and everything else…I’ve always hated them….). The magazines of the day always touted wearing lingerie or something under your beefy man-ruling power suit to make yourself feel sexy, feminine, so on.  Other than I have always had a fetish for lingerie, this served me well.  I have uhm eclectic tastes in lingerie.  Fredericks of Hollywood is too trashy most of the time.  Victoria’s Secret too prudish and too—cottony—most of the time.  Although, I do own much more VS than I thought, now that I have finally pulled everything I did keep out and go through it to see what else I want and need, since I am finally with a guy who loves lingerie as much as I do and who after we get married won’t decide I shouldn’t be me anymore. (the last one least w this one I am sure he’s not going to change or change me—there are benefits to dating your best friend of 9 years J ) The last time I had a really good time buying lingerie was when I was in NJ, before I met the ex husband.  Of course, once upon a time, I did have some things specially made for me, by a real seamstress and everything….those days are way long gone, but I remember them fondly—and use the knowledge I accrued then to make choices these days.  Anyway, as I wander the twisting corridors of my mind today (sorry sorry), what I am trying to get at is…I am finally back into the swing of things for me again.  I hadn’t realized how badly everything in June affected me. 
It started with a trip to Burlington coat factory, ostentatiously for the bf to find clothes for work.  Of course, the first thing I did was find a new purse.  Then I tried on shoes, and more shoes.  Look, I am 5’ 11” +, just shy of six feet, even on my slouchy days, of which there are many.  I married a man who is 5’ 8” (although he claims to be taller…nope, nope, nope) and lived w a man who is 5’ 7” (at least he’s honest about it).  Now I am w a guy who is 5’10” and he doesn’t mind me wearing heels and being taller at all…The first guy, when we were dating, loved the fact that I love high heels.  Look, not counting the love of my life after graduation (C, another 5’ 7” guy—and another Pisces—what is it w me and Pisces guys who are 5’ 7”?  Thank goodness that cycle has been broken!), I was the short girl in my social (outside of school) circle.  The guy I was with was 6’ 5” –for me to wear six inch stilettos was not a big deal.  I developed a taste for them.  I still like them.  When I started to date the ex-hub, most of my shoes were within the 3-4 inch high heel range.  He loved the high heels and short skirts then.  Until he started sleeping around.  Before we married?  After we married?  Either way.  Then he ‘subtly’ pushed  and bullied me into the good little housewife role…and he hated the high heels then.  I got married in my stocking feet…BAH!  Anyway….the next guy is a ‘structural integrationist’ and he claims his dislike of high heels is purely for the sake of the body’s alignment.  I will even give him that too…because he seems to go for taller women—taller, chubbier woman…and he kept the weight on me til I left him (how—I have no idea)—so …. and I am going only on having met the one before me and the one after….and the fact that as soon as I left his physical presence the baby weight I couldn’t drop fell off, even though I was eating twice as much as before.  If I can drop ten-fifteen pounds in a week….it wasn’t anything I was doing to keep it on—or to take it off…trust me….not with all the tricks of a former anorexic/bulimic up my sleeves….
I digress again, huh?  I am having one of those days.  See, this is what happens when I touch the computer and play w email all day instead of writing like I am supposed to…which I did for two days now because I finally dumped the mac and went straight pc—which required I dump at&t/yahoo and go to gmail….and gmail exclusively in order to run everything through outlook…and trust me—I love it—I am just having to tweak and play with everything to get it all working and up to speed.
Burlington Coat Factory.  I bought my purse that day.  I really needed one.  I didn’t cave to buy the shoes…although I should have.  Apparently, this is where the strippers go to shop around here.  This Burlington had more lingerie than I have ever seen a Burlington have.  The shoes here were in larger sizes with higher heels than I have ever seen at a Burlington—than I have seen outside a specialty shop….  The whole experience burned through me though.  Ever since R bought me the knee high boots when I got my last tattoo, I have wanted to have more high heels again…..finally, when we were out in search of other things, I asked him to stop once more at Burlington.  I bought a pair of gorgeous maroon snakeskin patterned stilettos – they have five inch heels…and I swear they were made for me.   I now have a nice supply of 4 to 4 ½ inch spikes in my collection.  And a pair of regular flat heeled boots, in black, since I don’t seem to have any black boots for every day wear….how that happened (other than the x somehow ruining my ‘biker’ boots when he borrowed them for his Halloween costume one year….he didn’t do it on purpose…I know…but I could never wear them again after he did…too painfully uncomfortable…) I simply have no clue.
Why am I saying this?  I get to feel like a girl again, instead of just a mom.  I have been ‘just a mom’ for too long.  The ex killed every bit of sexual anything in me—which anyone will tell you is hard to do—I have a reptilian aroma around me or something (this is something one of my ‘Not’ Teachers told me…I am one of those people who ooze…which is why I am a love me or hate me person, instead of the whole in between thing…so she said…although I don’t find that as true anymore….but maybe it’s more because I am above playing such childish games in the grand scheme these days…I am what you see…there is no artifice here…)
I get to feel like a strong healthy vital vibrant woman again.  Not just someone’s mom.  Not just someone who normally wears jeans and a tank top while she sits and works on her writing or art work or tidies the house or any of the other things I do…always in her bare feet…or in the winter, with socks on.  I get to feel like a real woman, with powerful dreams and plans and goals.  As if I can accomplish anything.  How you dress affects the way you perceive yourself, yes.  I didn’t get rid of all my business attire.  Although I am always going to be the ‘artist type’.  Now I can wear my wooden platform sandals and not feel bad…although I need my toes repainted before I do that….
We also bought lingerie while we were there at Burlington, because I love lingerie as much as he does, and my collection dropped to almost nil after the last ex killed my drive and desire –I mean, the man killed every little thought of sex that might cross my brain….he should work in a monastery or something, he is so good at driving every little bit of it out of the mind and body…I am honestly not trying to be mean here…he has a talent and that would be it…..gods love his soul, I tell you…
            My current bf loves lingerie…and he too has been denied this pleasure for too many years.  Not that he hasn’t tried.  Most of the lingerie he bought his last ex was put away, never worn, never seen again.  Or she might wear a thong (because he loves them—he always has—I’ve been here through, what, three, four of his women now—and at least he is consistent across the board with his likes and dislikes….) he bought for her once, and then it was gone, never to be seen again.  For years the man has gone on and on about wicked weasel (  ) and how much he has wanted a woman who would wear them for him.  Please note:  these are not exactly for the faint of heart here.  They have bikinis—and they give ‘itty bitty’ a whole new name…although now that I have some in hand, not all of them are as scandalous as they would come across…they are really nice thongs…although, yes, they do have some very micro stuff….there is nudity on the site, although you have to look for it…it is not a front page nudity place…but it is very suggestive….
            Now, R and I have always had a very close and very open friendship.  Not to mention, I used to do my laundry at his house.  So, he knows what I wear, and frequently has picked on me about it over the years.  And has gotten more of the same back in return forem me as well… He knows my lingerie fetish…and has always encouraged it, even if he never got anything more than glimpses of it…my one thing is I dress for me, not anyone else.  I am likely to wear a ripped up pair of jeans over a long sleeved fishnet body suit and a t-shirt over it….just because I can….this is why he has never had any compunction telling me about the whole wicked weasel thing, or anything else he’s into. 
            I finally have fulfilled two wishes in one fell swoop—ever since he showed me the ww stuff years ago, I have wanted some.  It has been his fantasy…for years.  I am wondering why the bag of hammers (one of his ex’s) never got any—she I know with no doubt would have worn them.    I told you, I am drifty today.  Anyway.  I bought some.  I ordered several, because I am all about getting more bang for my buck where shipping costs are concerned.  WW isn’t cheap, but it’s not too expensive either, considering what I am willing to pay for nice lingerie.  I didn’t buy a bikini yet, although R and I have the agreement in place that I buy one, he’ll take me somewhere where it is appropriate to wear it—we’ve been planning a trip to Australia for awhile now anyway…among other places…
            I should mention…..  I am not always shy and retiring.  As long as there are no children, and we are in an appropriate place, then I am hard to contain.  I have an exhibitionist streak that does not quit…the ex hub used to love that, til it became unseemly for him to have a wife like that (maybe he was afraid he lose his boyfriends to me or something)…and, well, the son’s dad, there’s no helping him.  He’s just a plain old-fashioned wet blanket.  He means well though, in his own way.  My current bf likes that, the exhibitionist streak—he always has—not just in me.  I am just the first woman he’s dated that is quite as – expressive.  Ok, fine, I am the first woman he’s ever dated that is not completely sexually repressed either.  His words-not mine.  Although K does rank up there a bit…her other oddities made things…difficult….
            I bought some knickers…and ended up buying enough to get free stuff too because it’s their anniversary, I think, for their website, I don’t know.  I didn’t find out about the birthday/anniversary thing until after I placed my order and had to figure out what the two birthday gifts were about … for every $50 you spend (I do not know for how long-check the website for details) you get one item free, a totally random item, last year’s or last season’s model.  I got another pair of knickers…and a bikini bottom—and the bikini bottom is the perfect shade of oceanic blue….they’re mostly just thongs.  Really sexy thongs, very well-made thongs, but just thongs.  The micro ones are very cool, and nicely micro.  On the models, they all look very tiny—but if you look at the customer pictures, they are more realistic there…although still…these be thongs….for the most part.  Funny how something so small, literally, can make a man so very happy.  You would think the bf died and went to heaven here.  I am the first person he’s been with that wears thongs because I like them, not just to please him for a moment, or to let him know I am ‘interested’ in ‘something’ happening, and then I don’t wear them again til I am willing to have more of that ‘something’…. I like them – I wear them—every darn day usually—I have for years—because of the way I am built, even the stay put panties do not stay put—so no matter what I wear I might as well be wearing a thong—and no—buying larger sizes does not work….I’ve tried…trust me.  In the Navy, wearing a white uniform, where you can see every line and detail when wearing the pants, it became a priority to find something that covered and didn’t slip or move or twist.  I had help—I had half a squadron trying to help find something.  No avail there.  Although we all had a really good time trying some days…  I quit wearing the uniform pants and stuck w the skirt—a slip can hide a multitude of things.  Thank goodness. 
            While we are talking fetishes here, I ordered my Halloween costume.  Last year, I bought the red queen costume, and spent time trying to find a longer skirt to wear under it because the hem of the dress was a good three, four inches off the ground and I wanted it to at least touch the ground.   I don’t remember what happened last year, but I didn’t dress up.  E and N went trick or treating w the cousins, per usual.  I have no real desire to be the Red Queen this year.  My Alice fetish has only grown.  Do you know there are stores that sell nothing but Alice in Wonderland costumes, from infant to adult sizes?  With all sorts of accoutrements and embellishments?  Do not ask me what I was looking for when I found it…I honestly have no clue…but I found this website:
They have everything, every character, darn near, from Alice and her adventures.  It’s really very cool.  So, I bought myself an Alice costume.  Talk about fulfilling a fetish request here.  lol  Ever since I bought my keychain months and months ago on etsy with Alice in a sort of anime style, I have had a thing for the ‘sexy Alice’ version….this is totally unrelated to the son’s dad suggesting ‘Lost Girls’ by Alan Moore --in his defense, he didn’t realize just how pornographic it was when he suggested it to me—not that that bothers me—he tries to find neutral things for us to talk about--sometimes he does deserve credit for trying, really-- until he started to look it up and found out—uhm—it’s a porn comic with political background…which is what Alan Moore --who wrote Watchmen-- set out to do when he created it…it’s not just the sex you are supposed to be aware of going on there…I haven’t gotten a copy of it yet…it may be Alice…but sex comics are not my thing…to be truthful, comics are not my thing…the Watchmen is the one and only exception…and only because of the extensive writing in between the comics bits….anyway…I told you…as focused as I think I am today, I am all over the place mentally….anyway—I did not order the Alice wig…and I don’t think I am dyeing my hair either…although I will probably straighten it – if the weather cooperates there…or not…because I have seen so many Alice flicks where she has brown hair …although I am a full range of blondes (on purpose…), so we’ll see on the hair.  But, I got the 4 inch high Mary Janes to go with the short skirted outfit.  I did not buy their tap pants or tanga pants to go under it…because $13 for a pair of frilly undies that I wasn’t sure I’d care for after wearing them w the costume…after buying six pairs of knickers from wicked just didn’t seem reasonable somehow.  But, I bought the shoes, a black slip and the dress, which comes with white knee high socks….the slip is black to play off some of the black detailing on the dress and socks and to tie into the shoes, because if the dress were all white and blue, I would not in good conscious be able to wear black shoes with it…blue shoes, yes, but not black….I have a strange monochrome colour sense, really.  I can’t wait to see it.  It will be here tomorrow.
And speaking of things that will be here shortly, I ordered wrecking balm:  -- We’ve been discussing it for awhile.  I got one tattoo to cover up another tattoo—and I should have just gotten the original tattoo removed and been done with it.  I had a script “T” tattoo for the ex, gotten before I married him.  I had a big fat black moon put over it.  I have never really liked it – and now I have reached that place where I can do something about it.  I don’t do lasers.  Lasers require trusting another human—and I do not think so.  I worked too long in the medical industry—and I have too many relatives who still do—not a chance.  But this, I can sink my teeth into.  You can go to the website to hear all the details.  I am removing the big black sun—it’s a bit more complicated than that….but still—that whole thing is going…and maybe the green spiral on my wrist that didn’t turn out right.  That one goes and I may replace it with the Chinese symbol for Phoenix.  Although I am still holding over the bf’s head the fact that I will get his first name tattooed on me somewhere too.  I am not sure what floors him more—the fact that we both know this is a permanent relationship and I have no problem getting his name tattooed on me – or the fact that I have no inclination nor desire to look at him and say I did this for you—now you do it for me….I do not require that.  I would like to pop up and give him a reminder that in 3 weekends it will be time for him to get his tattoo in honor of his mother passing.  But that’s the only tattoo I actually expect him to get any time soon.
            I will let you know how the wrecking balm works.  I’ve had this particular tattoo nine years now?  R went w me to get this done…the tattoo it is covering up I had done when I was what, 17? 18?  I must have been 18…I have no clue….covering it up did what it was supposed to…only what I covered it up w made me think about a certain ‘Not’ Teacher…who was the reason I chose what I did…although I knew all along and said all along I would get rid of this tattoo at some point….
That alone sounds so bad.  A tattoo is forever.  Like a diamond, yes.  It may seem that I do not put a great deal of thought into my tattoos—I just hopped up one day and went out and got a blue ringed octopus tattooed on my thigh….high enough to be covered by all by the shortest of skirts….as if hiding any of my tattoos is a priority—at any other point other than my wedding….That’s not true.  There is a lot that goes on.  If I just jumped up and got every single tattoo that came into my mind…I would be covered from the nape of my neck to the tip of my toes….trust me….I have a pattern in my head where darn near everything is tattooed in a pattern that flows from top to bottom in a riotous scene of utmost beauty and connection.  But I won’t do that.  I don’t like coloured ink that much, my octo Queen here aside….it’s been a year and a half or more…the colour in my wolf’s eyes are only now starting to actually come out and be visible---and I know that isn’t done yet….I fear for my dragon on my shoulder…one day I will have to find someone very talented to recolor him—he’s done in two shades of red…and I will drive back to WV and to Bryn, who inked him in the first place, and let her do it….otherwise, my black inks will fade into blues and I will be happy…although I wonder at the scales on my little sparrow…how those will appear on down the line…not much different than my stone washed Om, I figure….
A lot of stuff goes into my tattoos.  Each tattoo has a special and very certain significance to me.  Every tattoo has a deep spiritual connection to me and for me.  Even my beloved’s middle name on my wrist….I am drifting again, so I will stop here.
Where did I start?  Yesterday.  Yesterday.  We can even go to Tuesday.
You will be happy to know that the bf did get the important stuff back from his ex.  Although she pitched a huge screaming fit, in a public place, because—he’s just not that in to her.  And as she continues to point out, she has absolutely no control over her temper—nor does she try apparently.  He is done playing her childish games and she can’t stand it.  Although he can now rest a little easier that he has his house key back and doesn’t have to wonder if she’s going to break into his house and steal anything else anymore.  Now, he just has to worry about me, but I’ve had a key to his house longer than she did, since I have had one, oh, since his divorce, pert near.  When the ex hub changed his locks for him… some days the funny things that creep up.
I’ve been cleaning.  You can tell.  I start on the physical plane and all the stuff comes out on the mental plane as well… I’ve been going through all sorts of stuff.  Tossing things out has been making me feel so much better about things.  For too long I have been hoarding things like my grandmother and her canned stuff in the basement.  Stuff we swear she canned when my dad was a kid, stuff I was afraid of when I was a little kid because I thought they were weird medical experiments—hey—I’d been in the biology lab many times—these canning jars looked like the stuff in the jars in the bio lab—I was a kid—sue me.  J  When she died, my dad offered people money to empty the jars, because the jars were antique and worth money – and no one would go near them…as far as I know, they could still be growing and reproducing in that basement…in the house no one has lived in since my dad and sister moved out after Grandma died….when my sister was in high school (I think) …in three years…she’ll be 30!  All this stuff I’ve been hanging on to…I still have stuff I can’t let go of…I have a basket full of boys clothes that I know my future sons are going to wear…N wore them some in MD, but not since…and now they are too small….and some of the stuff was bought big for him so he never wore it at all….that stuff I cannot throw out….especially not knowing I have boys coming one of these days.  It’s like the diapers…can’t throw them out…the baby clothes....can’t throw them out…won’t…we are going to need them…one of these days…it is easier to let go of the other non-essential stuff now though—that is the important part.  When I cannot think, hey, we will need these for babies on down the line, or the kids on down the line—if there is no reason to keep it…it is gone these days…
One thing I have been happy about the past couple weeks….the four of us go out, R, E, N and me…and even when N is at his orneriest…. it is still really good to be out all together.  Now that R and I have talked, since T won’t really help us with the whole ‘boundary’ issue thing…mostly because I don’t think he has them til he thinks I’ve crossed some line w him…but then again…those lines blur and slide and slip around so much that even if he says this here is the line not to cross, that only counts for that moment…the next time he’ll be hollering at me for not crossing the line…so there is no winning there…so R and I made our own lines, blurry as they are when it comes to N because I know I over-protect and over-compensate w N…because he is my kid and no one else should have to take care of him but me…that’s not why I am dating R—he is not the other baby sitter—he is the father figure….E caught on to that as soon as he switched from Uncle to uhm…not Uncle….E will not call him Dad until we get married—she keeps saying this—over and over and over—even though she slips up, a lot…especially when he is not around….T really hurt her and made her gun-shy—R is the only man she trusts—and it is not because he is the only man I trust either….R has been steadfast and solid in her life since before she was bourn…I can say without his influence I would never have been put on bed-rest w her when I was pregnant….he has always been there.  These past few weekends, going out to eat, that click has happened.  Where we have gone from Mom and the kids out with the boyfriend to **CLICK** -- the whole family out enjoying a meal together, one whole integrated unit, period….it’s that sensation, that orientation, that mystical indefinable whatever it is that I always wanted to have there w T when we were together—even before N was bourn—but it never happened—it’s that milder ~click~ that has always been there between just R and me, and by extension an uncle-y sort of ~click~ when it was E and R and me….but this time…it is the real deal…and it is meant to be…
Here I do digress…it’s a wonder sometimes, to look at the things that R and I have been through, separately and together, to get us to the point where we could come together as a couple.  We both seem to have needed to be in those lousy relationships where there was no communication, where we were taken for granted, where we were so miserable, in order to see how very lucky we are now that we have each other. 
How pitiful is it for a grown man to call me and ask if it is ok for him to call on his way home from work and talk about his day?  He has not been allowed to talk about his day at work for years, not the slightest detail—because his ex could care less—she told him so point blank.  More than once.  So, he was not allowed to talk about his day, or anything that interested him that didn’t interest her.   And they don’t have many common interests, something he frequently complained about.  She still fails to understand why that may not be healthy for a relationship…where only one party gets to talk about their day and their stuff…where the other party is made to feel inconsequential and worthless, how was it put?  Beneath the other party’s notice or tolerance….
The fact I listen to his day—and I actually ask questions and get involved and don’t just glaze completely over and tune him out…I could do this for the rest of our lives and nothing more and he’d be the happiest man alive—because he has been denied these little pieces of himself for so very long.  The fact that, as he says (and as I have said about him for me) that I am just about everything he could have ever asked for or dreamed of all in one….it’s just a bonus….
He asks me questions like that all along…are you ok if I do this?  And I honestly look at him as if he’s nuts…and say, what could be wrong with this…only to hear someone else didn’t care about it so it wasn’t allowed to happen.  The man wasn’t even allowed to eat at his favorite restaurant because she didn’t like to go there…and it’s a place for couples, not a place you run in and grab something for lunch and run out…..things like this baffle me.
I can see now and then saying, look, I had a rough day, I don’t really want to hear about yours….but that whole—I don’t really care.  I don’t want to hear about it.  Just don’t do it any more?  I don’t get that.  I don’t get dating someone and telling them if it doesn’t have anything to do with me or isn’t something I am interested in, don’t bother talking about it because I don’t care and I won’t listen….it’s insane.
I don’t care how bad a place is, unless I can really give solid reasons why this place sucks (like the last sushi place we went to—food was great…service impeccable…music was horrendous…we agreed we would not return there until they got better music J ) – like bugs everywhere, or horrible horrible food every time we go…I would still go once in awhile because he likes it—and I’d find something to eat while I was there… I would do it because I care about him and his feelings (and trust me—I’ve done it for others—I’ve done it for friends, much less boyfriends and husbands) –and I know this isn’t the only time we’re going out, so one dinner in a place I don’t prefer or like in the grand scheme of things will not kill me.  I don’t get people – even though I have dated and married enough of them—who won’t let other people be themselves, who think the other party has to change everything in order to be ‘good enough’ to date/marry them.  If you start to date a person and that person is one way—why do you bother dating him if you don’t really like the way he is?  If you don’t like that he plays puppet games with chopsticks…walk away…don’t crush his spirit to fit into whatever form you think he ought to be in…that’s not him…and making the other party unhappy with themselves will only tear the relationship apart on down the line… me—I watch it every single day w my work…I have seen in it my own life…not to mention my friends and family as well…
Ahhh….I have fallen too far off the fruit wagon today …let this piece stand as my morning—and afternoon—pages for today…my rant…my exposition….my reveling in being me.
And above all else, thank you for listening…even if you didn’t make it all the way through my ramblings.  I do this for me, some days.  Just to get stuff out.
I am hoping that everything that went on in June is now…settling…and I can get back to steady writing and drawing and painting again….I am looking forward to that more than I can say….