Home Again


Home again.

Jiggedy jig.

Damn.

That was a fast, full day.

I don’t quite know how it is already 10:15 p.m. and I just got in a little while ago.

Feels like I just started.

Some days are like that, full, busy, no time to stop and think and ponder.

I just got up and did the day.

Which was fueled by 9 1/2 hours of sleep.

I do not usually sleep that much, but last night I had a whopper of a head ache.

Not a migraine, no, but a serious headache.

Actually, I can’t remember the last time I had a migraine, used to get them all the damn time, stress induced, primarily.

Horrid things.

I may have had one some time in this past year, but I don’t recall.

Anyway.

I was surprised to have the head ache last night, especially after I took some ibuprofen when I got home and it was still around.

I went to bed an hour earlier than I would have on the normal and slept the entire time.

Well.

I got up once to use the bathroom, when Nature calls, I have to answer that phone.

I slept all the way until my alarm went off.

I gave myself permission to stay put and to ease up on myself.

“Well, that’s what happens when we are processing a lot of emotional stuff,” she said to me on Saturday when I expressed that I had been sleeping more than usual.

Not a ton more.

But anywhere from a half hour to a full hour more some nights.

I’m not questioning it, it’s just what it is, and if I need to be sleeping more and can, since I am pretty caught up with my homework, then I am more than ok with it.

I haven’t heard back from my Applied Spirituality class as to whether or not my proposal is going to fly with the professor.

If I am a go for the proposal I am planning on hitting Flax before work either Thursday or Friday.

Get in an artist date before work, get some coloring books, pick up some more colored pencils, get some stickers.

I am also contemplating making Valentines Day cards for my cohort at school.

I think that would be a fun and sweet project to do.

Who doesn’t like getting a Valentine’s Day card?

The oldest boy has been working on his for days now with his folks.

He gets so excited about the wording and the exact message that must be expressed, I have seen him take a half hour to do one card.

They are pretty labor intensive.

I remember the first time I made Valentine’s Day cards for school mates.

4th grade.

Mrs. Begen’s class.

To this day, she might be my favorite teacher.

She was the woman who taught me the difference between they’re, their, and there.

She also helped me figure out desert versus dessert.

She had a reading program and that was where I realized I was such a good reader.

I read more books than anyone else in the class and every time I hit a certain mark or number for having read a book I got to pick up a free book from the library.

That’s how I discovered Anne of Green Gables.

Pivotal literature for me as a girl.

Mrs. Begen had us take a whole day and we decorated a paper sack with cut out shapes and hearts.

I remember how impressed she was with my little paper bag.

I had made a caterpillar from a bunch of little hearts all cut out and stuck to each other, antennae with little hearts on the ends and little, tiny, heart feet at the bottom.

I loved art class in school until I discovered I wasn’t as good as I thought.

I wish I had allowed myself the joy of art class a little longer.

I did actually go back to it as a senior in high school and I took an art class in undergraduate when I was trying to figure out if I wanted to pursue photography as a medium and possible career.

That didn’t happen.

And that art class was one of the hardest classes I ever took as an undergraduate.

I also remember that my first assignment I got a C- and I was infuriated.

I don’t know how I did it, although I remember spending a lot of time on all the projects thereafter, but I managed to get an A in the class.

It was an experience.

I digress.

Paul Ripp!

That’s where I was going.

My first little classroom boy crush.

Paul Ripp.

Tall, white, hazel/gold eyes, brown shaggy hair, big smile.

I was pretty crushed out and he was the recipient of my first secret admirer Valentines Day card.

I suspect that Tammy told him it was me.

He was always sweet to me but not available.

It wasn’t until high school, sophomore year, that I did another secret admirer Valentines Day.

This time it was carnations.

Red ones.

To Henry Hall.

Later I found out Henry knew it was me.

Of course he did.

We actually became good friends, still are, although I don’t have a lot of contact with him and there’s good reasons for that, unrequited love fantasies die hard, but they do die.

Thank God.

Henry kept a letter I had snuck into his locker the next year, junior year, of school, in the fall, wherein I declared I was in love with him.

I saw it once in his wallet, he pulled it out and showed it to me.

Years later, drunk, at The Angelic Brewing Company.

He told me he was in love with me too.

Although that wording was never bantered back about, having been said in an apparent black out.

We were toasted that night, I do remember that.

I also remember that it was the beginning of the end for the five year relationship I was in.

I knew that I never felt the kinds of feelings for my partner that I felt for Henry and it was wrong to deny it and despite believing, knowing, really, that we would never get together, I also knew I had to leave my ex.

I did a few weeks later and that is another story for another blog another time.

Valentines Day.

Hearts and love and candy and wildly inappropriate expectations about needing other people to fulfill my love needs.

I saw a card the other day and I laughed out loud when I read it.

“Buy your own damn flowers.”

I had just done that.

A good reminder.

Be my own damn Valentine.

I got the dress!

That’s for sure.

Anyway.

It was a day.

And now.

The day is done.

I am grateful for it all.

All the experiences, heart aches, adventures, Valentines, the kisses, the missed opportunities, the ill timed, star crossed love, it all smacks of God and when I move through I move closer to what I am supposed to be and whom I am supposed to be with.

I don’t need to figure it out.

Figure it out is not a slogan.

I just need to take care of myself.

Do my recovery.

And the rest will follow.

Valentine or no Valentine.

God’s got me covered.

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