on the reel.....

it's been officially official for a while now... i think too much.

i do this thing, especially when i'm organizing... i make up songs in my head.

for instance. the other day i was putting away the shipment for the cafe and i was thinking about someone and i just started into song. then i realized people were walking in and out of the backroom while i'm in my own little world singing...

"you know exactly who i am..."

over and over i was singing this and then adding this that and the other thing and ended up with this whole awesome song. will i ever remember it? probably not but this happens to me ALL the time. i think of poems or songs or something striking and profound and then i get home and forget. the good news is that my writer's block is over, however getting it onto paper seems to be an issue. which is some ways defeats the whole purpose of wiriting in the first place doesn't it?

i was thinking about my grandma a lot this week and for obvious reasons. remembering all these fantastic memories of decorating way too many christmas cookies on her dining room table, or folding delicate pastry over apricot filling for one of my favorite treats, or playing Go Fish! remembering being handed those nastier than detroit halls menthol cough drops in church when i was hungry. (my sister and i discussed this the other day and got the giggles because even though she's 8 years older, she got the same cough drops) i remember her defending me against my grandpa's hand slamming on the dining room table when i couldn't finish all my food. i remember sitting on her kitchen floor dissolving into a puddle after my divorce and her letting me. no words, not yet. she always has perfect timing for advice. the perfect words for encouragement and the lightest hand of discipline that smacks you across the face with truth and a real life lesson but never pain. so many times i've sat on that floor, always freshly swept. when i was little it was to draw evaporating pictures on the side of her antique black stove with a wet dishcloth that she would rewet when the art was becoming sparse. she fed me frozen corn and peas (my favorite) while i sat there and drew on my self proclaimed canvas. laster on in my teenage years i sat on the stool in the corner complaining about math and my mom. crying about lost friends and changing schools. learning about death and why it hurts so bad and where God is in all of this mess we call life. even later in my twenties crying over one divorce and then another, feeling lonely and lost. all the while she would wash her dishes, make her "supper", or offer me a piece of her homemade sugar bread. listening to every word and never breaking in to interject her opinion or to tell me how i should feel. just sympathizing and then when i finished her words would come. helping me make sense of bad decisions or of what i felt was cruel and unusual punishment for a wife that had stuck by her husband through so much only to be left with nothing but bills and a monthly payoff. she told me stories of her life as an obedient wife and mother. giving me hope for what was to come. giving me strength to never settle but to chase after whatever it is that makes me happiest and ever so gently reminding me of mistakes gone by and the lessons that they held. an inspiration at 5 feet tall with the strength of an ox, but gentle as a babie's eyelash on a soft cheek. she's beautiful inside and out. i could only hope for that kind of soul. a saint as far as i'm concerned.

tomorrow (or today?) is the big day. the last day of being a slave to the tobacco market. rereading my previous posts of why it is i love to smoke and weighing that against why i can't wait to stop. it's going to be a good week. i can't even think about the flip side. succumbing to that negatitivty will only make it worse and will drive me to the nearest amoco. i'm a little nervous to lose something that has become a comforting friend, but it's time to face myself in the mirror and let it all out. i've been holding it in for so long and this habit became a way of keeping it there. locked up in their little vault of confusion, bringing on headaches and exhaustion but never a tear. it's time. looking in these big bright blue eyes, i know i deserve something better than a shorter life.

as far as my current relationship... i'm unsure. not of how i feel. but more unsure of where i stand. am i special? am i something real? something he's always wanted but never had? what am i to him? what i try to be is supportive, loving, open, and a friend to talk to. my walls have tried creeping up to protect me but i'm learning that it will only hurt me. locking up now will only undo everything i've tried so hard to break free from. after my divorce i didn't trust myself to make good decisions about men, so i just didn't make *any*. then i met someone who helped me get out and enjoy life again. someone who lived so entirely for himself, not letting "the man" get him down. not long after, my heart was broken. he lived a little too much in the wrong direction for me. another learning experience. i dated a lot after him, committing to no one. convinced when it was right and felt good, i would. which brings us to my present relationship. it feels right. it was great. we clicked... made each other laugh, played stupid flirty games, opened up to each other, hit it off when we finally got to hold each other for real and then... now. we seem so distant from each other. both cautious not to get hurt but hurting none the less. me being submissive to help keep the waves at a minimum which is so unlike my usually controlling nature. so where do we go from here? soon we'll meet each other's families and enjoy each other's company again. i hate confused love. but nothing in life is wrapped up in a pretty pink box with a bow now is it? it's complicated due to the past creeping it's pudgy little face into something that's none of it's business. why is it though, that life is so complicated when you're in the thick of it, but then so simple looking back? it's like drudging through a thick field of grass but then looking back it's so beautiful swaying in the wind. and you wonder, why was that so hard? how can something so peaceful be such a workout? it's pretty simple i guess... i love him. and that's really all that matters when it comes down to it. at the end of the conversation, i'm still in love. doesn't really matter why.

also on the reel...

work. always work. scheduling. invoices. shipments. inventories. new employees. organization. this check. that check. this customer. that customer. THAT customer. i had a lady pray for my grandma this week. she was at the counter ordering a cheesecake and a grande cinnamon dolce latte and said "i'm celebrating!" i said "that's great! is it your birthday?" she said "no, i had a clear mammogram! after a few lumpectomies, i am cancer free!" i about fell over when i said aloud "really? i just found out my grandmother has breast cancer." something i have never said aloud in the presence of anyone but a close friend or to a manager when asked how my day was going. she asked "what's her name?" "midge" i replied through a choked up throat and glassy eyes. she said " i will keep her in my many prayers." and i almost lost it but then went about preparing the best cinnamon dolce latte i could muster up and poured in cold milk. fantastic. i told her "i'm sorry i just made your drink with cold milk, i need to remake it." and as i lifted the freshly foamed milk onto the steam wand to finish steaming, she looked me in the eye and grabbed my hand "let's pray for your grandma." and she recited the most beautiful prayer for my beloved. a bright spot in my day and a successful latte later, and i was left feeling... better. at work? that's interesting. wouldn't it be nice to have a moment of clarity like that everyday at the place that brings me the most grief? i can tell you that it would be *very* nice. everyday i've told myself, it's going to be a great day, it usually ends up being not half bad. Ha! it's always busy and usually unbearable stressful but with the thought of a great day planted, it all somehow becomes manageable. that whole power of the mind bull has some truth to it afterall. hm.

and so i'll embark on this great journey of tomorrow. the big day. at 2 am going to bed without a phone call. again. but it's ok. it'll come. and when it does i'll make the best of it. expecting a few of those tomorrow. but it will be ok.

it'll be great.