KP's blow-up mattress chronicles: Part 1

My mentor and good friend told me that I should write a series/sitcom where every episode starts out with the main character sitting on her blow-up mattress blogging about the things that happen in her life. Picture Sex in the City meets Mary Tyler Moore meets Dear John.

It's sad how very true it is. Me sitting in the dark punching away at the keys, surrounded by nothing but space, a sheet-covered window and an old mirror. I thought that I'd give that a try tonight as I sit, well, you've already got the picture...

My apologies that I'm about to take you back a week. Last weekend "J" told me he made an appointment to look at an apartment for rent a few blocks away in Southie. He said it was to "get in the mode of looking for a place". It was Monday and I had the day off. We slept in, threw some clothes on and drove up the hill to see our first potential apartment together. We walked in and fell in love IMMEDIATELY! HUGE kitchen. TWO decks. TWO floors. THREE bedrooms. TWO bathrooms!!! We told the owner a little bit about us and left with the rental agreement in hand. Then we drove to the grocery store. Standing in the produce aisle, "J" looks at me and says: "Let's just do it. Why the hell not. It's AMAZING. We both love it. It's just what we're looking for. Let's go for it." I look at him holding a package of red leaf lettuce and say: "Yeah, okay. Let's do it."

"J" calls and tells them we want it. The application process follows. References. Credit checks. We make an appointment to bring "Little J" today to give her approval. After all, we can't just make a big decision like that without getting her input.

I call my mom to tell her we found a place. With excitement in my voice, I tell her all about it. How AWESOME it is. "I'll have a closet," I tell her. "I can FINALLY get my things and put them in MY HOUSE. I'll have a home, mom." With little enthusiasm in her voice, she manages to say: "That's great." A few moments later, after a comment I make about the ex-husband, she says: "I think I'm going to go visit him in Philadelphia." Excuse me? I don't think I heard you correctly. The connection must be bad. I thought you just said you're going to visit my ex-husband. I don't think him OR his fiance would be comfortable with that. But, sure, call him and see what he thinks about it.

Funny thing - she hasn't mentioned this in 2 years, and the day I tell her my boyfriend and I are getting an apartment together, this is what she says. Issues, anyone???? I quickly realize that my mother's issues aren't with me and "J" moving in together at all, but with her own issues dealing with change. She has to get to know someone new. It will no longer just be us when she comes to visit. Someone else is important in my life. Someone else is my family. Loving me. Supporting me. Taking me away from her. As much as I sympathize and understand those feelings a parent experiences when faced with letting go, I have lost all patience for it. I believe a family is there to support, love, accept. Mine seems to be excited on their time and when it suits them. They don't like confronting their own demons - it's so much more fun to supress them. But, and maybe I'm crazy here, I think family should be more than talking about the weather.

Anyways, the week continues with little contact with my mom. I am working a lot and starting to get nervous to meet "J's" mom who was coming in this weekend.

So, heart pounding out of my chest, I met her yesterday for the first time. I was FREAKING out. The whole birthday situation left me scared to meet the woman who created and raised this AMAZING man I love. Hmm...maybe I shouldn't have been so tense. Haha! It went smooth - just as predicted. She is WONDERFUL. I can't even believe I was nervous. What an idiot!

Today we took mom and "Little J" to see the new apartment. We asked "Little J" to give us her opinion. As she walked down the stairs, she said to me and grandma: "My opinion is: WE SHOULD LIVE IN THIS HOUSE!" "J" and I smiled from ear to ear. We were so pleased to have her approval. It suddenly felt like home. We signed the lease, shared a family hug, then went to Burdicks in Cambridge for the best hot chocolate in the US to celebrate.

It's funny. "J" and I met on a random Thursday night. Our courtship has been fast, intense, and amazing. Just a few short months after meeting him, I felt this crazy feeling. It was something I had never felt before. I couldn't put my finger on it until this weekend. It's family. He feels like family. His daughter feels like family. I moved to Boston alone and confused 10 months ago. I now have a family here. A home (as of April 1st). It goes to show that family isn't always about blood. It's where home is. And my home is here. In Boston. In Southie. With "J", "Little J", 2 bathrooms, 3 bedrooms, a HUGE kitchen, and the INSANE amount of visitors who will inevitably be coming to stay.

I am now looking forward to cleaning bathrooms, doing laundry and fighting over the amount of junk left on the counters. Life is crazy. And SO GOOD!

Hope...anyone?

I don't want to come across as unhappy, ungrateful or a pessimist for I am none of those things. I know I feel a lot of things, and since writing is my outlet, those often fleeting feelings are expressed the moment I feel them. So, please forgive me if this post is less than cheery - because I feel anything but at this moment.

I woke up this morning excited it was Monday. I actually like going to work. I LOVE the people I work with, and love my clients. Working gives me a sense of accomplishment and purpose I have yet to find in other avenues. I had a busy morning - making sure I got my car from Southie to JP as to not incur any more parking tickets. Then it was off to the office where I would have to get my week started and log my time - which is something I loathe more than anything else - EVER! The tedious task of going through my Outlook calendar and email to piece together how I spent every 25 minutes of my work week - UGH! But, as usual, I digress.

I walk into the office, happy to see my fellow co-workers and friends - and I get to work. I help one of them distribute a press release that had just crossed the wire. It was a good start to a good day. OH! And I made plans to have dinner with "Little J" and her mom this week while "J"'s in England. How awesome is that!?! I sat on the phone with her for an hour last night as she told me the story of her and "J"...and I thought to myself that no one could have ever made me believe I'd be having this conversation about the man I'm dating. It was surreal. I had to stop myself from asking the "we're-girlfriends-now-so-we-share-everything" question: "was it as good for you as it is for me"???? Haha...shit. Digressing...

So I run down to grab some lunch with my awesome friend. We get back and there's a calendar invite that starts in 15 minutes - a call with the GM. Uh-oh. This is NEVER good. We pile into the conference room. All of us but one. I know right away why she's not there. He starts by telling us what a great job we're all doing, but the state of the economy, blah, blah, blah...He finishes by dropping the bomb that each office will be losing one employee. We all sit silent. What can we say when one of our "family" members has just been told to pack her things and leave? What will it be like when I walk in tomorrow and she's not there? She was my friend. Everyday. For 10 hours a day she sat next to me. Now her desk is quiet. I wanted to do everything I could to save her from the pain of being "the one" to have to walk out alone. I know that feeling. I've been that one. I hated that for her. I wanted to be sick. We all sat there in silence. Disbelief. No one could talk as she packed her things. When she left, awkward laughter. My boss looked like a ghost. We all did. Truth is, no one knows when this will happen again. 3 months? 6 Months? Who will be next? Is it going to get any better? Is anyone safe anymore?

I came home, lit a candle and laid on the couch in the dark. Thinking about my friend who now has no healthcare or paycheck, while I prepare to get up for work again in the morning. The same feeling she had yesterday. I wish we could have all taken a paycut. Made some sacrifices to save her job. To keep her at the desk next to me. I'm sad - and I'm going to continue to be sad. I wanted to be comforted by people I love...to know there are still good things. Hear a familiar voice on the line. Talk about my fears. I know that there are 6 other people in that office who feel the exact same way I do, and understand these emotions. But no one wants to talk about them as they just invoke more fear, angst, sadness.

So, I sit here alone tonight, writing to try to vent my sadness and my fear. Not only for me, but for all of us. For my friend who needs to start over. For all my friends who have found themselves in this same position. I'm wondering when this will end and people will start smiling again. I miss people smiling. My once happy and sunny office has turned dismal and depressing - probably like a lot of offices around the country. But I do have hope because I can't imagine this lasting forever. We can't survive like this. We have to bounce back. We have to be happy again. We will be telling our children stories like those our grandparents told us - while we sat there listening in disbelief, unable to fathom a world without, well, everything.

I apologize if I don't sound happy tonight. My head hurts and my heart is heavy. I am going to miss my friend. And I am going to feel both guilty and grateful that I am still one of the lucky ones who gets to complain about getting up for work in the morning.

Speaking of which...I need to get some sleep...

Never a Dull Moment

I'm going to set the scene for a story I think everyone will enjoy. I don't want to set expectations too high, but this post will be full of twists and turns - just when you think there has been enough drama for one year (but took place in one LONG day), something else will happen that you simply cannot believe. But rather than continue to build suspense, I'll just get into it already.

Opening scene: Tuesday morning: Scene opens with KP on the #11 bus on her way to work. Sound of cell phone vibrating. KP looks down at her phone. Ex-husband. She answers it and says hello. The conversation continues throughout the duration of the bus ride. They talk about the economy and the changes being made at her company. Several old friends have lost their jobs. And their houses. KP exits the bus and begins to walk towards her office, still on the phone. After about 35 minutes of conversation the conversation takes an abrupt turn.

Ex-husband: "Well, it's been good catching up with you. I hope all goes well with the job. Keep me posted. I'll talk to you later. By the way, I'm getting married. Okay, we'll talk about that later. Have a great day."

KP (a look of shock and surprise on her face): "I'm sorry. Did you say you're getting married!?! And you just throw that in there at the end? No - we're going to talk about this now. When did this happen? When are you getting married? What about the annulment?"

Ex-husband: "About a month ago. I wasn't ready to tell you. But I don't really want to talk about it now, so I guess we'll talk about it later. No worries on the annulment. I'm not gonna go through with it."

KP: "Well I'm happy for you. I'm really happy for you. Thank you for telling me at least."

KP continues on her way to work. She walks into the office. The first words out of her mouth are: "'M' is getting married." Her co-workers look up shock and in unison chime: "Oh my God. Are you okay?"

End scene.

The first 3 people I call do not answer. I need to make sure I document this. Get it out. Tell my friends. My mom. How do I feel about this? I don't even know. I feel weird. Numb. Am I happy for him? I have no reason to be angry or sad. My mom calls me back. I tell her. She falls silent. I begin to cry. Oh. So I AM going to react to this. Hah. I knew something would come out eventually.

The next few hours are a blur. I walk through the office somewhat like a zombie. I don't know how I'm supposed to react. I think this is normal, but this is totally new for me. Mostly I can't believe it. I can't believe after all those years I was the last to know. But I guess that's what happens when people split up, huh? I mean, he's not the first person I call anymore. So why would it be different for him, right?

A few hours later "J" pops up on my IM window and asks if I'm busy. As a side note, I told him almost immediately about "M"; he too asked me how I was. Okay, back to the IM. "I want to talk to you about something." Oh, geez, I think. The last time he used this phrase we ended up arguing about how bad I was to offend his family. Just as I'm reading this, my client calls me with an issue that needs to be dealt with immediately. I'm on the phone with him telling myself NOT to read the IM message from "J" that's flashing, calling my name at the bottom of the screen. I do it anyways.

"I was thinking that I know why I was having these crazy dreams. It's because I need some space. Not because I don't love you like crazy or because I don't want you around. I do. It's just this place is small and I need to just be here. I love you madly...and still want you to spend the night here with me. I just need a little time alone."

I read this and start shaking. Shaking. I hang up with my client. I stand up as calmly as I can and proceed to the bathroom. I unlock the door, walk into the first stall and collapse against the door. And begin sobbing. A flood. Can't breathe. Walls closing in. Want to run. Far away. Home. To the one home I know. My family. Friends. I need them. Now. Why does this hurt so much right now? Why did he say this now? Today. He must know how hard that was for me to hear. Does he not care about how I'm feeling? That I couldn't wait to run home to him but now felt like I wanted to be anywhere but there. The place where I was suffocating him?

I collect myself, splash some cold water on my face and return to my desk. I send an email to my friend with this conversation, begging her to read it and respond. I need you, I say to her without having to say the words. Just then another message from "J".

J: "Oh my God. My dad just called. My grandma died."

At this moment, I looked up to the sky and say, "really??"

Of course now everything he said previously is null and void and he wants me to come home to be with him. He needs me. Meanwhile I'm sad. Angry. Feeling like I don't belong anywhere. But I know I can't address this tonight because his grandma had just died. I need to be there for him. I need to suck up my feelings and be strong. For him.

I cried my entire walk home. Sobbed. I needed to feel my pain. Validate it. I walk in and give him a hug. Hold him. Tell him I'm so sorry. I hate his pain. And mine.

We ended up talking that night - that's the way "J" works. Nothing goes unsaid or unsolved. I love this about him, but loath it at the same time. I wanted to be alone in my feelings. Unselfish in the way I supported him. He explained his side and I cried. And told him he picked a shitty day to tell me that. He was selfish when he should have been supportive. I was angry because I just wanted support. To be understood. He realized he was wrong and should have "listened" to what I was telling him. Through my voice. My responses. My avoidance.

The night ended with us laying on the couch together - both in pain. But together. And in love. Knowing it sucks. But sucks less when you have someone willing to hold your hand through the pain. And suckiness. I fell asleep thinking to myself: just when I think my life is starting to "settle" into a routine, I'm suddenly reminded that nothing in KP's world will ever be boring.

My eyes puffy from crying, I fell asleep in the comfort knowing my life will always be, well, my life. Strangely, I found a lot of comfort in that.

What I Do Have

It's not even 10:00 on a Thursday night and I am EXHAUSTED! I'm sitting here on "J's" couch with a re-run of The Office on mute (which, by the way, I thought was NEW) in a daze. I am tired after a week of long and stressful days at work. I am tired of the cold and snow that make it impossible to enjoy fresh air and the feel of sun on my face. And, most of all, I am tired of hearing about how bad the world is getting and how miserable everyone is.

It's so weird. People have been talking about a recession for a long time now, and we've heard rumblings of lay-offs in different cities across the country. All of a sudden, though, it seems to have hit home. And it seems to have come out of nowhere.

I feel like the past 2 weeks have been more stressful at work than I have ever experienced before. My boss is a walking zombie. He was the reason I took this job with this company - his compassion, his character, his attitude. But something has changed that. He still cares - but no longer has time or energy to show it. Everyone in my office has become painfully aware of this reality and has consequently stopped smiling. I used to love going to the office and now I dread it. It has become a constant reminder that the world we used to know is no longer.

This makes me angry. It makes me angry because I like that world. I like when people smile and have hope. I like when people talk about traveling and babies and marriage and new beginnings. I feel like all anyone is talking about right now is endings and misery. No one is talking about the good times - what's ahead, what was, and what is now.

I was texting with my best friend last night when I told her about something I heard about my own company. She immediately asked me how I was and told me she's praying for me and she loves me. During our conversation I was washing the dishes with the lights low, candles lit, and music playing. Afterwards I climbed into bed where I was joined a while later by "J", who kissed me softly and told me he's the luckiest man in the world (I think this is just a line to get, well, you know.) I rolled over, smiled, and fell asleep in his arms.

I walked to work this morning listening to Eminem. I saw people everywhere trying not to fall on the ice. I had a GREAT client call. I talked to my best friend who's planning on spending Valentine's Day with me in Boston. I emailed with an old friend I miss terribly. And made plans to see my old roomie tomorrow night at my favorite bar.

I realized that all this really sucks. And it's scary. And there will be moments I will be sad and angry. But, I have so much. I think we all do. I just think sometimes when we're all wrapped up in what we don't have, it's so hard to see - and be grateful for - the things we do. That's a tight rope to walk, as we often lose those things if we don't hold on tight enough. So, despite the fact that I'm a little sad, and really frustrated with the world right now, I can't let it kill my energy or my spirit. It has been trying, and there have been moments this week that I've given in to it just like the rest of the world - but life's just too good to complain about it.

So in a few minutes I'm going to crawl into bed and fall asleep to some soft music and wake up tomorrow to finish off this long week. And, I'm going to be grateful for the stress because it's better than unemployment stress! And then I'm going to enjoy a weekend of sleeping in, late breakfasts, good-looking British men (or, really, just one), SuperBowl parties and vegetarian chili. If my life stays like this, I don't see one reason to complain!

My soundtrack

I love music. I know a lot of people say that, but I REALLY love it. I spend my entire day immersed in lyrical goodness - when I get ready in the morning, on the bus on my way to work, with my headphones on at the office, on the bus on my way "home". When I get "home", whenever possible, I put on my favorite music videos. I can't even imagine a day without it. It is simply a part of who I am.

I love to learn new music. Be introduced to new artists. Hear their stories. Listen to their lyrics. Create my own plot. I love when a song is so good you disappear into the melody, swept away by the rhythm and flow of the words. When the beat makes it impossible to not play the air drums. (Yes, I really do this at my desk). When a song is so sad you cry because you can feel the pain through the music. Or when a new song takes you by surprise when it reveals a painful truth you might have missed.

As I (attempt to) write my book, I often think about what songs I would choose as my story's "soundtrack" should A Sophisticated Mess ever make it to the big screen (hey - a girl can dream). Since this is preliminary and just a pipe dream, you cannot hold me accountable should this list change between the time of this post and the movie premier. I just thought I'd share a few of my favorites, in case anyone else loves music as much as I do and wants to expand your music library.

Sugarland: Already Gone
This is actually my "theme" song. I first heard it in the back on my parent's car driving home from dinner with my grandpa. I only heard the last verse (about her leaving with her boxes packed as he stood waving), but sat sobbing silently in the backseat. I went immediately to Target to buy the CD. I put it in my car and listened to it over...and over...and over. And just sobbed. It's my life. Every verse.
Taylor Swift: Cold As You
Rascal Flatts: Movin On
Saving Abel: Addicted
Rascal Flatts: My Biggest Fear
One Republic: Apologize
Augustana: Boston
Duh. Haha! I think I played this song 100 times when I moved out here. I still get chills.
Eminem: Shake That
Whenever I hear this song, I see myself as the star of my own sitcom, walking down the street to this beat (think 21st century Mary Tyler Moore)
Elton John: Tiny Dancer
Usher: Love in the Club
Awesome story of going to a gay club with my old roomie and being FLIPPED upside-down
Keith Urban: Got It Right This Time
Ray LaMontagne: Can I Stay
Brandi Carlisle: The Story
Dixie Chicks: Lullaby
Led Zeppelin: ANY
Bon Jovi: Never Say Goodbye
Kris Delmhorst: Words Fail Me
Carrie Underwood: Starts With Goodbye
Flo Rida: Low
Sugarland: All I Want to Do

There are so many more. This is just a sampling of some of the songs that would HAVE to be included on a soundtrack of these past few years. Of course I didn't include any NKOTB in there (which I'm listening to as I type), but I think that goes without saying.

I hope you like this sampling. May listening to these songs bring you as much joy as it has me. And, if anyone has a favorite song they'd like to add to my library, I'm always open to musical suggestions!

"Let's Go To The Movies"

I love going to the movies. I love that I get to just disappear into someone else's story for two hours. I love everything about the experience. However, last night's movie left me feeling less than warm-hearted.

My office had Monday off to celebrate MLK Jr. Day - an awesome thing! So, we all got back into the office yesterday after a long weekend, and starting recapping our activities. Two friends mentioned they went to see this movie called "Revolutionary Road", and that it was definitely worth seeing. One of them has a very similar story to mine - married in her early twenties, divorced, moved to Boston, found the love of her life. She tells me that I have to see this movie, but for people like us - people who have made the hard decision to leave - it's very emotional. "You have to see it, but you will cry," she says to me.

I immediately message "J" and ask him if he wants to see a movie after work. With extreme excitement, he said he'd love to after reading the movie's description. We began messaging about the feelings of guilt I have been experiencing towards my own past, and I warn him that I might be "a little emotional". We both agreed it would be one of those movies that sparks awesome conversation and insight into the human psyche. Well, we were right about that.

First of all, this movie is amazing. The acting is phenomenal. The story is intense. I highly recommend it as a movie to be seen. However, if you have any fear about relationships, settling, making a bad choice, being stuck in a place you despise - any one or all of those fears - you will have a very rough time watching this film. After a million tears we left the theater in a daze and walked over to grab dinner at my favorite place, Panera. We walk up to the counter to order our meal and can barely speak. We were so wiped out. So exhausted. Emotionally and physically. This movie was not only a depiction of what could happen if you aren't true to yourself, but also of a couple trying so desperately to figure life out in the context in which they were living.

I've lived those fights. I've seen that look of utter sadness. Hopelessness. I think we all have. That's why it was so gut-wrenching. We have all been there. We have all settled - made choices because they made sense. This, my dear friends, is my worst fear. Being somewhere I hate. Miserable with who I have become. Deceiving - and being deceived by - the person you love and trust most in the world.

We walked out and talked about what happened to them, and how to ensure that doesn't become of us. How to make sure you listen to not only the person you're with, by yourself. Staying true to that person. I'm not sure we solved the problem of unhappy couples around the world, but we did promise to always talk. About our feelings. Our fears. Our needs. I don't know that there's any better solution. But I do know that love drives this world, and we'll never be without it. And, I also know that because this tragedy happened to Kate and Leo doesn't mean it's slated for me.

Right now, though, I know I'm exhausted and want to go to bed. So, that's what I'm gonna do. I'm going to dream of wonderful things and true love. Or Leo naked. Whatever gets me through the night...(I'm totally kidding, by the way)

A place to belong

Okay, so I'm going to continue my posts of "personal searching" - looking for peace and answers through writing. I find that after getting it all down, I feel unbelievably better, and that I understand even more about myself, my feelings, and my fears.

I feel more and more like I'm searching for a place to belong. A place to call home. I feel that the longer this continues, the more likely I am to be locked up as certifiably insane for eternity. As this thought is not terribly attractive to me, I realize I have to make some decisions. I have to take my life into my own hands, stop talking about how horrible it makes me feel, and do something about it. The only problem is, I don't know what that "something" is.

I think it's important here to note how awesome "J" is about the whole thing. I have been practically living at his place for the past few weeks. He tells me to call this home, and treats me as though this is as much my place as it is his. But, the reality of the situation (and anyone who has "lived" with their significant other without really living with them knows) is that it's NOT my home. I am a guest, and consequently act as though I'm a guest. I respect this as his home. I respect him as both my boyfriend as well as someone who has opened his heart and home to me. He is - and has been - wonderful.

Now, I know everyone is wondering why we're not getting ready to move into a place of our own right now. After all, it was the subject of a past post where I was spewing "excited" and "giddy" onto the computer screen. Before anyone panics that things in "KP/"J" world aren't as blissful as I let on, we ARE planning on getting a place. It's just that there are timing issues - priorities - that prevent that from happening right now. These issues are - and should be - the focus of his time/energy right now.

So, knowing and understanding all of this, I'm still sitting here on his couch at 1:45 in the morning, feeling awful for being in his space. For becoming this burden. For putting him in the position of being in love and still wanting to be alone. To have his time. I've become the person he loves having around, but wishes he could really long to have me around. He wants to miss me.

I understand this in a way that's painfully clear. I understand that for both of us, it's better for me to not be here all the time. Despite that, it's so hard for me to want to be in an empty room with an air mattress. It just doesn't make any sense for me to bring my things for something that's so temporary. I hate that no answer seems clear.

I don't even know where I was going - or where I was hoping to go - with this post. All I know is that a man I love is sleeping in the next room as I type. I look forward to crawling in next to him shortly and (hopefully) getting some sleep in order to quiet down all these thoughts running through my head. Maybe I'll find some sort of solution tomorrow when my head's not so clouded with exhaustion. I look forward to that solution, and to someday soon feeling as though the place I go to sleep will not be filled with so much anxiety, guilt and frustration.

But until then, I'm going to close my eyes and enjoy sleeping next to the man who makes it so hard to be angry or frustrated about anything.

Moving On = Letting Go

We all have pasts. And those pasts are full of happiness, pain, anger, joy, sadness, regret, guilt. They made us who we are today. The good. The bad. We have all made choices that have guided us to the present moment. If you're anything like me, you are grateful for those decisions because you know the life you know now - the life you were meant to live - would be so different if you had done anything different. But, you also feel the effects of those choices. The guilt. The change. No choice - not even the right one - is made without consequence.

It's strange, the way I've been feeling lately. I returned to Boston after spending 2 wonderful weeks with friends and family. That, as I mentioned, is always hard for me. It's hard to come back to a world that's still uncertain. Still unsettled. To leave my comfortable chaos. But after a few weeks back into my "normal" schedule, I feel like that was a year ago, and am back to being okay so far away. I miss everyone immensely, of course. But, having been gone for so long, that feeling is a part of who I am. "Missing" is a emotion that runs through me regularly. I wouldn't feel like me without it.

"J" and I have gotten into a routine as much as we can. I have been staying here with him since we returned from our respective holiday celebrations. I come "home", we make dinner, and fall asleep together. It's nice having a routine with someone you love. It's comfort and excitement all at once. We both laugh when we realize we haven't known each other for years. "Our" life feels so natural. So right. So meant to be. It's crazy to think that just a year ago he wasn't even in the same zip code...

Despite the fact that life is seemingly perfect (with the exception, of course, of the whole lack of a home thing), I've been struggling a bit lately with emotions that seemingly came out of nowhere. These emotions actually "crippled" me earlier this week. All of a sudden I was feeling sad. And I couldn't understand why. I hate not being able to figure myself out, so I focused all my energy on trying to solve this personal emotional riddle. And, just like usual, the answer slapped me in the face while I was (of all places) in the bathroom. I was holding on. To the past. To the pain. To the guilt. It suddenly hit me that as "J" and I talk more seriously about, well, being serious, the more these feelings affect me.

I am in love with this man. Wholly. Without a doubt. I am not jumping ship on him or this fabulous relationship. But, no matter what I do today or plan on doing tomorrow, I have done things - and loved people - in my past. These people shaped who I am, and helped guide me to this place. To lying on "J"s couch at 2:00 am.

I realized I need to find my peace with those people. The decisions I made. And the way I handled them. I need to apologize for my wrongs, and for the hurt. Only now that I am where I need to be can I see the pain I caused. The lives I changed. I took faith, trust, love - and treated them as though they don't mean anything. When in reality, they mean everything. Everything I am and believe in is made up of these things.

What does all this mean? It means I need to say I'm sorry. To let go of the guilt that follows me. With every step I take. I need to look to the future without seeing the past. Let go. Of everything. Forgive the wrongs. And cherish the good for what it gave me.

Life is so good. I wouldn't give anything to be anywhere else. But moving on means letting go of the decisions we have made, and basking in the awesomeness that is the consequence of those very same choices.

Mars...Venus...Really?

This whole notion that men and women are so different...where did it start? Who was the first person to realize that the way we think is so totally opposite of each other?

So, since writing helps me regain my sanity, I'm going to vent here for a few moments. And, since I often discover things through my writing, I might even be able to solve this age-old problem...

Let me start on Sunday. I had to leave Michigan. This act is ALWAYS hard for me. Now, I have been away for years and have adjusted to having "distant" relationships. But, being back with my amazing friends and family, I fall right back into comfort mode. I immediately feel comfortable knowing they are right down the road should I need to escape. Should I need them. It's like no distance or time has passed at all. So, leaving that all over again - every time - is so tough.

This particular trip was especially tough for me as I have been "displaced" so many times over the past few months, that I felt as though I was coming back to living out of suitcases. I find myself constantly frustrated that this continues to be my existence - living like a nomad. It's no one's fault but my own, I realize. But still tough. I just need to settle soon. I just found it so hard to leave the one place I can still call "home"...

Last night "J" came back from his trip home for the holidays. It was so great to see him for the first time in weeks. The reunion was everything I had hoped it would be. Now, I enjoyed my time at home in Michigan so much - visiting with friends, re-kindling old friendships, spending time with my family. But I missed him on Christmas. And New Year's. I would have loved to ring in the New Year with him.

We stayed up late, and of course I had to get up early for work. My friend (who just saw her boyfriend for the first time in 9 months - he left yesterday morning) asked me if I was interested in having dinner with her tonight. As much as I have missed her and love having dinner with my friends, all I wanted to do was spend a little time with "J" alone since coming back to Boston. I have missed him. I am still a little sad after leaving everyone back home. I was so excited to get back into our groove together. Unfortunately, "J" was looking to get back into his groove with his friends. I understand this. I really do. I hate even being upset over this. To make matters worse, I developed a terrible infection that has left me feeling terrible, sad, vulnerable, and emotional. And I sit here in his bed alone - all those feelings swarming. Needing to sleep, but knowing I can't until all of this is off my chest.

Ultimately, I know that I'm a VERY lucky person. I am in a VERY good place, and a VERY good relationship. I just wish that sometimes there were smaller differences between men and women. That men understood it's simpler than they think to love us. Attention. A little affection. Cuddling when we are sick. We love our men and show it well. We like to feel the same.

I know we are wired differently, and they can't be blamed for the way they're built. But, neither can we. So, I wonder if we will ever get to the place where we "get" the opposite sex. Where we can anticipate the way they will react to our actions, and vice versa.

Really, I think that we'll always be like this. And that we, as women, will just always turn to each other to complain about being left alone when we want companionship. Not getting a kiss when we need it. Not enough communication. And, my guess is that they will continue to complain that we are too needy, too emotional, and hard to understand.

So, my dear friends, it seems I have indeed solved this age-old problem. We just need to accept these differences, get angry when they affect us, talk about them, but then let it go. Because at the end of the day, there's nothing better than falling asleep next to the person you love. Or waking up next to the person you can't imagine your life without.

Mars vs. Venus? I don't know. But if there's a magnetic field holding these two planets together, then sure, I can see it. Because there is definitely some sort of "force" at work when he's next to me...

A bittersweet ending...

I know I haven't posted in a long time, and for that I apologize. Life seems to get crazy sometimes and takes time away from the things we love to do - like writing. I promise TO TRY to be better in 2009.

So, I feel like since there's only one day left in 2008, it's only appropriate to reflect back on the year that has held so many changes for yours truly. No better place then to start at the beginning, right?
Hmm...I rang in 2008 in Knoxville with some of my very best friends in the whole world. If I remember correctly, there was drinking, dancing, laughing, games of dirty Jenga, and torn fishnet stockings. If I don't remember correctly, I'd like to keep my memories the way they are - because in them I had a blast!

Despite the wonderful company and fun I was (clearly) having, I was also in the midst of a lot of pain as the clock struck midnight. Only 2 days earlier, I found my dad slumped in the living room after (we later learned) having suffered a stroke; I was grieving the loss of a relationship that was doomed from the beginning, as no person or relationship has a fighting chance against an active addiction; and I had recently found myself living back home in a place that held more pain (at the time) then happy memories.

I remember hoping...praying...wishing...for a better 2008. I woke up in the new year so grateful for the people in my life - those who have stuck by me and loved me when it was seemingly impossible.

2008 was a great year! I discovered a new level of love and compassion I didn't know possible. Within me. Within my friends. I became acutely aware of the AMAZING people in my life, and how with every moment that passes, and every breath I take, I can NEVER take them for granted. I realized that "family" doesn't mean "blood". At some point this past year I lost count of the numerous times my friends surpassed human levels of acceptance and love - and realized I am forever indebted to each one of them for that.

I think if asked, most people would describe my 2008 with one word: "moving". I don't know if I could count the amount of times I have packed my things and moved them from one place to another. I feel like it has been forever since I opened a dresser drawer to get a pair of socks, or laid on my couch watching movies all day. I vaguely remember what that feeling is like - that feeling of security. Being settled. Home. I waited for so long for that feeling. I'm still waiting.

2008 also brought love. Great love. Amazing love. Of family. Of friends. It brought me to Boston, which is a place I am starting to call home. With a job I love. And friends. And "J". And a life. I'm building a life I LOVE.

I am excited to see what 2009 holds. I woke up this morning and said goodbye to one of my very best friends after a WONDERFUL night of laughing, talking, and catching up. My heart is always a little heavier when I say goodbye to her, knowing it will be another 6 months before we have this opportunity again. Knowing I would give anything to have this time with her every month. Knowing I feel that way about so many people - wishing we could be closer. That I wasn't always saying goodbye. But also feeling incredibly grateful that I have people I love so dearly. And who love me.

I spent the day reflecting on changes I need to make. Relationships that need healing. I am still searching for those answers, and think I will continue to search through the new year. But I am confident I will find them.

I am looking forward to the new friends I will meet. The home I will make. The places I will see. The love I will share. Looking back on all the changes - and even the pain - I am so grateful for every moment of 2008. All of those moments brought me to this moment. And I LOVE this moment. I love thinking about ringing in the new year again with my family in Knoxville, and making new memories.

For 2009: I hope I laugh everyday. Love without fear. Make new friends. Connect with old ones. I hope I can be a good friend. And daughter. And sister. I hope to finish my book.

I hope my friends and family find peace. Happiness. I hope all of you have something to smile about everyday. With no exceptions. I hope to love each one of you the way you have done me. Unconditionally. And without judgment.

I am a little sad to say goodbye to this year that I called "the year of KP" at this same time last year. But, I have a feeling 2009 will be even better. With all of you, I don't know how it couldn't be!

HAPPY NEW YEAR! May it bring everything you hope for...

All my love. Always.

The next step

Okay. So I return home after the "I have been thinking about suggesting we get a place together" comment and can barely sleep. Is he serious? Are we ready? Will he bring it up again? Is this the "right" time? What is the "right" time, anyways? Who makes that call? These questions plague my mind as I drift off for what will only be a few hours sleep.

I wake up the next morning excited, coaching myself over and over throughout the day that I can be the one to bring this up again. That I can be brave. That I can fight all my female insecurities that tell me to wait until he brings it up. I script the conversation perfectly in my head. Yes, I'm all set to make an appearance as the rarely seen (but often aspired to) assertive and confident KP.

He picks me up from work and takes me to my place to grab some clothes for today and then drives me home. I settle on the couch to read. He runs to the store for wine, and then starts making dinner. Salmon, risotto (he makes the BEST risotto), and vegetables. He's talking to me from the kitchen. About his day. About our upcoming trip to Philly. He starts telling me about his friend's documentary: "I want to see my friend's documentary I was telling you about. It looks so awesome." KP stares at "J" with blank a look on her face. "J" realizes he hasn't told me about this particular film yet. "You know, this wouldn't happen if we had more time together or if we lived in the same house."

Shortly after the SECOND mention of us becoming roomies, we sit down to dinner. There's romantic music playing in the background, candles lit, and wine has been poured. We sit and talk. And then he asks me: do I freak you out when I talk about these things. Like the future? Moving in together? Marriage?" I smile. I answer with a resounding NO! I mean, sure it's scary to be so vulnerable. But, something in my soul tells me this is right. We are right. I can't explain it or rationalize it. But it's SO GOOD! His face now is so close to mine I could feel his breath, see his dimples and myself in his dreamy blue eyes. He says: "so what do you think? do you want to live together?"

Yes. Yes, I do.

And with that we decide to start looking for a place after Christmas. Our place. Just the sound of that makes me smile in places so deep down inside. I will have a home. A HOME! I will unpack my make-up and my suitcases - and hang pictures. We will have a dining room table and a bed and dressers...and a bathroom to clean!

We spent the rest of the evening talking about the future. Our future. And smiling (we tend to do this a lot when we're together). It was magical. And scary. It's a new chapter. And new chapters are always a little bit scary.

Given this new level of vulnerability, I convince myself (with no particular evidence to support this next statement, of course) for a few short moments today that he regrets his decision and is kicking himself for ever suggesting it. I mean, who would seriously want to move in with me!?! I am obsessive-compulsive about my towels, take long showers and sing in my underwear. Constantly. Just then, my almost perfect boyfriend (yes, I have down-graded his status slightly so that I can better manage expectations...like when he leaves his socks on the floor or something...hehe) sends me the link to a house for rent in Brookline. Just then I realize that maybe - just maybe - there's someone out there who DOES want to take this next step with me. Imagine that...

And as scary as it might be for both of us, I'm so excited to wake up next to his smiling face everyday. And, yes, even his socks on the floor.

Healing, fate, and new beginnings

So, this past weekend comes and I'm looking forward to spending some quality time with "J". We make plans to have dinner with my best girl, "D" and her boy Friday night. This will be the first time I'm meeting this boy I've heard so much about - and vice versa. We ended up at The Alchemist Lounge in JP for some of the best drinks, food, and company I've had in a long time. We heard some crazy stories about the medical field (see: prolapse) and "J" and I doled out some relationship advice. All exhausted from a long week, we left relatively early and headed home where "J" and I finally had some quality time together. We even got to sleep in a little Saturday morning! It was a small slice of Heaven.

Now, since "J" and I are heading to Philadelphia for Thanksgiving weekend, he had "Little J" this weekend. He invited me to spend the weekend with them. Fighting my desire to have this time with my favorite boy and his gorgeous little girl, I tell him to enjoy Saturday alone with her. He hasn't had any time alone with her in weeks - and they needed some daughter/daddy time. They had lunch, went to the movies, chilled out at home. It was everything he needed. Now, since I am not that selfless, I spent Sunday hanging with them. We played store and tic-tac-toe, colored, dressed up, and had the city's best hot chocolate.

Now, this next part is BIG! On Saturday, "J" told me that I had been invited to "Little J's" house to meet her mom ("N"), step-dad and sister. He asked me how I felt about this. Honestly, I felt fine. I was actually looking forward to meeting her mother. It would help me continue to connect the dots of his life - something I rather enjoy. So, our Sunday is planned around this first meeting.

We arrive after stopping at the store to pick up dessert. From the second I walk through the door, I feel comfortable. Like we're friends. We look at dresses in her closet. And talk about having more babies. And watch The Little Mermaid. And have dinner and drink wine. It was incredible. I would be friends with this girl. Later that evening - when I should have been in bed - "J" and "N" are in the kitchen having a very serious discussion. I am talking to her husband (me with the baby in my arms, of course) in the family room. I overhear "J" tell her that he's sorry for the way he treated her when she found out she was pregnant. At that very moment, my heart smiled - he's finally getting the opportunity he's waited years for. Finally getting to say the words he's felt for so long but never had the courage or opportunity to say. He's making amends and starting to build something with this woman who has dedicated her life to raising her children. I knew at that moment this dinner was fate - and that we were all a part of something wonderful.

When we finally leave (after hugs, of course), "J" tells me in the car about his amazing conversation. About the tears. And the hope. And the healing. She was grateful for his apology. He was grateful for her sacrifice. They both developed a love for each other that was non-existent before that moment. Now they both have an admiration, respect, and love for each other as they raise their beautiful daughter. What a gift! "Little J" might just be the luckiest girl in the world to have so many people who love her so deeply. And purely. That differences don't seem to matter. And the past can be forgiven.

We drive home, both exhausted but in awe of such an amazing experience. When he drops me off at my car, I tell him I miss him. I miss not living across the street. I miss it being so easy to sleep in his bed. He sits silent. I ask the obvious question: do you not miss living so close to me? He pauses for a moment. "Yes, I do miss not having you so close. I miss you being able to sleep in my bed and go across the street to get ready. I miss it so much that I have been thinking about suggesting we get a place together." I am paralyzed. But I manage to smile. Then he kisses me. And I get out of the car and climb into mine. And drive home. Smiling.

Erasing the past

I'm sure we all have moments in our lives that we wish we could take back. Those that are attached to feelings of regret, sadness and anger. And, although most of us say if given the chance we "wouldn't change a thing", no one really means that. The irony is that no matter how much we wish we could, none of us can erase the past.

I was working feverishly at my desk earlier this week when I got an email from my ex-husband. This isn't unusual, so I thought nothing of it. The message is cordial - says he has a favor to ask of me - could he call me at work? Without hesitation, I tell him to go ahead. A moment later, the phone rings.

Nothing is out of place. He begins by telling me a funny story about his mom. Then tells me his new girlfriend is going home with him to meet his family for Thanksgiving. I tell him about my plans to spend the weekend in Philadelphia with "J". We joke about how funny and weird it would be if the four of us had drinks together. Then he does the awkward, now what was I saying? What was I going to say? Oh, yeah. The favor. Yes, the favor. Could we please get to it?

So, I'm gonna go ahead with the whole annulment thing, and need you to agree.

Excuse me. I'm sorry. But, did you say 'annulment'!?!

Now, our divorce was final a year ago next month. A year. And now you want to talk about an annulment? I tell him that I will agree to do that for him - that he just needs to tell me what to do. Will I have to sign something? Fill out a form? He tells me in not so many words that it's his new girlfriend's idea. That she wants the annulment. Of our marriage. One word, three letters: Our. We hang up. And I begin crying at my desk.

At first, I was confused by this reaction. Why would I be so upset about this? The divorce was done a year ago. I moved out long before that. Why the tears? After some serious thinking and talking about this request, I realize that I am upset that he wants me to agree to erase our past. Erase me. After 12 years, he wants to sign some papers and erase everything. Like it never happened. Once it's done, in the eyes of the church, we will never have been married. Maybe I shouldn't be the one to judge since it was me who walked out on our vows. I reneged on that promise. And, if I could do that, shouldn't he have the right to try to erase the hurt?

I fundamentally disagree with this. I don't regret my decision - to get married or to leave. I am proud of who I have become through these decisions and experiences. "J" knows all about my past, and loves me more in spite - or because of - it. I have such a hard time thinking about a new person coming into my ex-husband's life - which I shared for so long, and asking him to erase me. I am even more furious that he is agreeing to it. Is he ashamed? Is it because he can't say no? Is it because he can't move on with any parts of me still remaining? The guilt I feel as I write these words is overwhelming. That's why I said yes. That's why I didn't fight. Because I know that I made a decision that altered the course of his life forever. And as hard as it is for me, and as much as I disagree with it, I feel like it's one small thing I can do to help him move on. To find closure.

There is no erasing the past. The memories remain - in my mind and in photographs. I was a different person back then, as was he. I am grateful for the things I learned through him. Maybe he's still hurting from the things he learned through me. Maybe this will help him forget the bad times. I guess a part of me is scared that he'll forget the good. Maybe I'm more scared that I've become someone who can simply be erased.

I wonder if that's how he felt when I walked away.

A new address...again

I am sitting right now in the Junebug cafe - my favorite place in JP. That's not far off from what I'm doing every week, as I often find myself here for several hours at a time, disappearing into my thoughts through writing. This time, though, is slightly different. First, I sit here with one of my best girls, "D" who wanted to try her hand at writing, and was looking for some inspiration. Second, and obviously what this post is about, is the fact that I now live only a few blocks away from this place that has quickly become my book-writing mecca. I am at peace in this moment as I type away at my computer with my friend beside me and a passion fruit bubble tea on the table. However, as much as I am at peace in this particular moment, I feel my insides ready to explode from the torture I have subjected them to with my nomadic lifestyle.

I was dreading yesterday. I hated the thought of packing my clothes. And moving them. Again. I hated the thought of not being across the street from "J" anymore. I had become so accustomed to walking across the street at midnight to crawl into bed with him. Waking up in the morning, leaving him there to sleep while I went home to get ready for work. I loved our life. It was like living together - light. I was dreading this move, knowing it would require more planning and effort when we had become so used to impulsive and easy. I left his apartment on Friday night with a very heavy heart and headed back to my apartment in Southie for the last time.

I woke up yesterday morning and started the process. I was miserable. Through some amazing self-therapizing, I realized that moving has become synonymous with anger and disappointment, as the last few times have been laden with those emotions. I also realized that the reason moving is so depressing for me right now is because I am moving into yet another temporary situation, where I will not hang any of my pictures, put away any of my dishes, or have the ability to take a shower any time I want. No, these are luxuries I gave up a long time ago - and I have been going "backwards" ever since. I have been talking to "J" about my feelings toward moving for the past few weeks. I found it impossible to hide these emotions from him. I wanted him to be a part of this move. I wanted him to be the security I was searching for. The comfort that moving always left me longing for. Moving meant lonely. And I was tired of that feeling.

As I sit here today I wish I could say that yesterday was different for me. That it didn't leave me feeling those things. That I walked into my new place and felt "home". Instead, I packed up my car and drove out of Southie alone, and pulled up at the new house and started unloading my belongings. I carried my blow-up bed to my room where I sat and watched missed episodes of The Office. And cried. Because I miss that feeling of falling asleep on the couch. And of making breakfast un-interrupted. And leaving my coat on the back of the kitchen chair. I miss the feeling that comes with a home - no matter what kind of home it is.

I am still upset. And I'm trying so hard not to be. I wish that it had gone differently, and that I would be able to finally look at moving in a positive way. But I'm not there yet. To me, moving means temporary and sad. It means living with strangers. It means another undetermined amount of time where I will only feel comfortable in a small section of a house. But, it also means new friends. And I am really looking forward to building relationships with the kick-ass girls who are my new roomies. When no one else was there to welcome me home, they did. With smiles and hugs. And, you know, that alone is more than I have had during any of my recent moves. So, it's already looking up. I have a good feeling about my next move. That it will be a place I can call home. And hang a picture. And FINALLY put my Christmas present from LAST year on MY fridge (thanks, KB!). Yeah, I'm slowly getting there. In the meantime, I will learn what I can from this experience, and keep notes for my next book. I am glad knowing that when a friend comes to me in the future, and is feeling unsettled, I can offer my experience as a small amount of solace - and hopefully they will be able to find some peace from my struggle.

But, if "struggle" means every weekend walking to the Junebug and sipping on bubble tea, I think I'll be just fine.

Yes We Can!

I sit here tonight so inspired and amazed. Just 24 short hours ago the fate of our country was still undecided - who would lead us at this time of change and tension? Would America step up to the plate and elect change and hope that was written in a different color? Or would we continue to elect what we know, scared of change?

I sat and watched the coverage with my roommate because "J" was out of town. I was walking home from the bus stop when I received a text message that Obama had won Pennsylvania. I cheered out loud while walking down the street. That was a HUGE victory! I got home and was immediately glued to the television. I watched as every state came in. When he took Ohio I knew we had it. He had taken it. Ohio usually isn't good for much - but they sure did come through in a BIG way!!

At 11:00, life as we know it changed forever. We sent the message to the world that we are willing to change - that we're not happy with the way things have been running. We hate this war. We hate this administration. Race will no longer cripple us, but unite us. We are no longer white, black, Asian, Hispanic. But people who want something different.

I was jumping. Screaming. Crying. People who lived through the civil rights movement. People who experienced it. They are able to dream of greatness. For themselves. For their children. America will stand behind them. We will not shut the door any longer.

I woke up today with a renewed faith. I read what the rest of the world was saying. About Obama. About America. There is a new light that shines. A new hope that exists. Nothing could get me down today. This is too good. We have made history. My children and grandchildren will read about this moment in history books years from now. And I will tell the story with pride. I was here. I was a part of this. I felt the hope. Saw the tears. Wrapped myself in the joy. They will not understand this moment because they will not have seen a world as divided as we have. They will listen to our stories with interest, but no clear understanding. The world is so different now. We have changed it forever. And for so much the better.

I am so proud tonight. So inspired. So amazed. I hope that the next 4 years brings as much hope as this past day has brought. If it comes anywhere close, we are in for an awesome journey.

Love is like diving???

So yesterday was an interesting day. I was supposed to be driving to Michigan with my dog - a plan that got changed about 10 times Thursday night. Instead, I ended up sleeping in late with "J", writing a press release which contained no news value whatsoever, hiding in the bathroom crying, and ended with a trip out of state.

And the only thing I had planned was writing the release.

"J"s birthday was this past week. I LOVE birthdays. I love buying presents. Planning surprises. I should celebrate birthdays as a profession. I had been scheming for weeks, trying to ensure he had a memorable day. You see, "J" also loves birthdays, but is used to planning his own celebrations. He's not used to - or okay with - giving up the control. Several times along the way I was close to throwing my hands up and allowing him to plan everything himself. But, I kept plugging along. In the end, he enjoyed a wonderful birthday, and I earned his trust. I think it was a good compromise.

Somewhere along the way, while trying to plan what I thought would be the perfect gift, I offended his family. I had no idea. "J" comes over yesterday to talk about "something". I, of course, start freaking out because these conversations are not something I'm comfortable with. I was raised where you deal with things in a passive-aggressive manner - expecting someone to know what you are upset about through non-verbal clues and strange verbal jabs. This never works, so I'm not quite sure why so many people still employ this age-old technique. So "J" explains what happens, and I end up feeling terrible. Somewhere during this honest discussion, he also manages to offend me greatly. Given my personal sensitivity, this is not terribly hard to do, I admit.

Nonetheless, the afternoon was spent wondering how someone I love - and who says he loves me back - could not know the fundamental things that make me me. I was pretty devastated.

A later discussion finds that the whole thing was a huge misunderstanding, and that we're both incredibly happy and slightly scared with where this is going. Happy because it's amazing and "perfect"; scared because it's always hard to let yourself go completely. And we are. He is looking for my "voids" to fill and I'm loving him in a way he's never known. But we're learning. Together.

I needed a break and a chance to clear my head, so I headed up to Maine late last night. When I arrived I had a long chat with "K". During our talk, something became clear. I have found something amazing. Something that doesn't require me to give - or take - everything. I get to do both. I get to love "J" the way I know how, and he gets to love me back - in his way. There's no losing myself. Rather, it's finding a me I've been searching for. A happy, balanced KP.

It's like this: I am daytime diving. A LOT to see. FULL of excitement. A constant burst of energy. Loving BIG. "J" is like nighttime diving. Amazing and beautiful and focused intensely on what's right in front of him. He takes his time to study it, learn it, love it. Loving consistently and slowly.

Yeah, it seems like a "perfect" match. Without being too presumtuous, I'm gonna say that I think we are going to be very happy. For as long as we are lucky enough to have it, that is.

"Even if we had terrible sex I'd still love your feet"

So, life's interesting as always here in KP's corner. It's great, because I don't even have my first book written and I've already started on the content for the sequel! In my mind I am going to be very wealthy someday with the books I plan on writing. For the sake of making myself feel good after a long day, I'm going to say that counts for something.

Let's see...where to begin. This past weekend: my mom came to Beantown. Just writing that sentence launches a nervous twitch across my body. My mother. In Boston. 4 whole days of passive-aggressive bonding. And she was going to meet "J". The last time she met one of my boyfriends, the meeting (in a snapshot) entailed a spilled glass of wine (on the passenger's seat of a car), an embarrassing self-choreographed dance, a country song, and a now infamous line: "I am who I am". As much as I enjoy "J" and want him to be a part of everything that is "me", I wasn't sure I was ready for him to become familiar with any of the characters in the "Story of Nancy". But, nonetheless it was inevitable. The first meeting, at "J"'s apartment went well. His daughter was there, and everyone acted as normal as possible. It was wonderful. When we climbed into the car my mom's best friend immediately asks me: "what's wrong with him? He seems perfect. No man is that perfect - something must be wrong." Since she's a self-proclaimed man-hater, I decided to just be happy with my perfect "J" and expect that life will always be this good. I don't see a reason to think any other way...

The weekend continued. We went to lunch on Saturday with "J"'s friends from London, and then went to get pumpkins with his perfect little daughter. It was a wonderful afternoon, and mom participated without being overbearing or passive aggressive. A major (but not often experienced) success these days. After the orchard, mom, "K" and I headed north to Portsmouth and "J" headed out with his friends.

Because I didn't want to leave Ella at home with my crazy living situation, she had to come with us. Everywhere. That meant every hotel we stayed at, we had to stuff the poor little puppy into a bag and smuggle her in. By the end of mom's visit, she got so used to being put into a bag she would just climb in. So sad, really. But, she was a good sport, and got to see lots of new things. Important for any dog's existence.

All in all, the weekend was an extreme mix of emotions. Mostly I began freaking out when I realized my roommate was going to let a criminal live in our apartment with us. I, of course, am extremely uncomfortable with the fact that a man who goes around beating peoples' heads in with bats is going to be living with us. Or, rather, will be anywhere near me. I knew immediately that I needed to start looking for a new place to stay. And, after more than a year of instability and moving from place to place, this is the last thing I wanted.

Basically this past week has been filled with work, spending time with "J" and looking for rooms to sublet. The process can be grueling - trying to find a room with people you like, getting Ella back to Michigan, and figuring out where to stay in the interim...

So, more or less that's been the past couple of days. Always good. Always interesting. Always exciting. And my perfect boyfriend continues to be perfect. After my mom made a comment about my ugly feet, he said to me: even if we had terrible sex, I'd still love your feet. Now if that's not perfect, I don't know what is.

"I'd like to check you for ticks"

A little more than a year ago I was at a Brad Paisley concert the night before I left for my best friend's wedding in Mexico. On the way, I dropped my entire collection of underwear off at the laundromat to be washed so that I could pick it up afterwards and make my 6:00 am flight the next morning. Once the concert started, though, I started to re-think the idea of leaving early just to get my underwear. I distinctly remember turning to my friend and saying "he hasn't even played Ticks yet!" And, with that, I decided to stay at the concert and went to Mexico with no underwear. I mean, who needs underwear in Mexico anyways, right?

This morning I awoke to the sleepy blue eyes of a very handsome British man looking back at me. Despite my exhaustion and desire to remain in bed with said boy, I got up with a smile on my face, re-playing my wonderful weekend in my mind. With sleep in my eyes, I kiss him goodbye and wish him a wonderful day - I head home and he heads to Home Depot. I barely make it up the stairs, stumble to the bathroom and turn on the shower. Not very efficiently due to lack of sleep, I grab a clean towel, put toothpaste on my toothbrush, apply facewash to my face, get undressed and climb in the shower. I follow the same routine I do everyday. Wash face. Rinse hair. Brush teeth. Apply shampoo. Lather up. Rinse. Apply conditioner. Rinse. All the while singing and dancing to the uplifting lyrics of Sugarland's All I want to do. It's a wonderful and celebrated experience every morning. Except this morning something happened that didn't fit into this routine.

As i was rinsing off - just before turning off the water - I realized I had an itch on my thigh. I scratch it. It continue to itch. So I look down. A bug. Gross but no big deal. I flick it off my skin. It doesn't move. I flick again. It still doesn't move. "Oh. My. God. This is not a bug. It's a tick." I immediately go into panic mode. I start pacing. Freaking out. Panting. Crying. Hyper-ventilating. All of a sudden I become acutely aware of the creature that has attached itself to my body and is sucking my blood. My blood. Sucking. I dry off. Still shaking. I start pacing. "I need to figure out what to do. What do I do? I cannot pull this thing out of my own skin. Simply cannot." I send "J" a text message. If it's at all possible for a text message to convey hysteria, this one did. I made sure to use the appropriate punctuation and caps to ensure he understood I. WAS. FREAKING. OUT.

He calls me. He tells me to get some tweezers and pull gently. I try to explain as calmly as possible that there is no way on this green earth that I can possibly pull this thing out of my own leg. Within minutes, he's in the apartment ready to perform an extraction. We go into the bathroom and shut the door. He sits on the tub, me on the toilet. I drape my leg over his and turn the other way. About to pass out, I try to focus on anything except the feeling of him pulling at this thing that has buried itself under my skin. I am going white. I can feel the blood rushing from my head. I can feel the food I've consumed over the past 3 days coming back up with a vengeance.

I realize at this very moment - with my leg draped over the tub, hair soaking wet, hysterical and about to pass out from the trauma of this situation - that if this guy stays with me after this, it must be love. He never loses patience or his cool. As I am freaking out, he's kissing my knee, never letting go of the tick. He's gently pulling, trying to coax the tick to let go of my skin. What seems like a lifetime later (partly because as he pulled harder, I could feel the tick latching on, reluctant to let go) he got it out. And I immediately stumble to the couch, lay down and put my feet up in the air to prevent myself from losing consciousness. I was that close.

I took my time and got ready for work. I called the urgent care and went over to be tested for Lyme disease. It was everything a Monday should be.

A few hours later as I was sitting at my desk, the Brad Paisley song comes to my head (thanks to my best friend in Kville). I start to laugh as I remember the lines: "I'd like to walk you through a field of wildflowers. I'd like to check you for ticks." Maybe that's what "J" had in mind when he suggested a 20-mile bike ride through the woods of Vermont...

A little piece of Heaven...

I have just had the most amazing weekend EVER! It was a perfect and extended period of time where everything in the universe was in alignment - everything worked out just the way you think it should. Let me explain.

I have been wanting to see the leaves change color ever since I moved out east. Timing, distance, and just pure circumstance kept me from making the trip from Philly to Vermont to experience this annual event. Until now. I made a promise to myself when I moved to Boston - no matter what, I was going to see the leaves change color this year. Alone. With a friend. No matter what. How perfect was it, then, when I met "J" and mentioned this was a dream of mine, he said it was one of his, too. Right then and there, we promised each other we wouldn't have to fulfill this dream alone. No, we would live this dream together.

We started planning late, as "J's" schedule is constantly changing. It's like an amoeba - it has a life of its own, morphs when it needs to fit inside any environment, and can change at any given second. It's kind of exciting, though because it gives him a level of intrigue that he otherwise would lack as the totally open, honest, wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve-brit that he is.

We check every bed and breakfast in the state of Vermont. No rooms. Anywhere. Committed to sleeping in the car to make this trip happen, we finally come across what appears to be the last vacant hotel room in the entire state. It's in a town called Killington, which is 30 minutes away from our destination of Woodstock. I book it immediately, and we start getting excited.

We left Friday night after work and headed up. Several hours and wicked traffic jams later, we made it to the hotel - a ski lodge up in the mountains. Starving and exhausted, we found the only local place still serving food. We ordered some drinks, fried cheese and onions, played some air hockey, pool, and arcade games. We even met some friends with whom we shared shots and games of pool (we won each game, no thanks to "J" - I had to clear the table myself).

Saturday we slept in, woke up to some fantastic Zeppelin tunes, got ready and headed out for a day in Woodstock. We grabbed a late breakfast at a cute little cafe in town (I got quiche!!!!), made some Canadian friends, and headed to pick up our bikes. We mapped out our 20 mile trip and, with lots of ill-placed confidence, started peddling. And peddling some more. For about 4 hours we went up a lot of hills, and down a few. We saw covered bridges. Beautiful leaves. Empty fields. Cows. Horses. The gorge. It was incredible. We stopped to take pictures. And to fix my bike. And shop for glass. It could not have been more perfect. I take that back. If I was able to at all feel my legs at the end, it would have been more perfect. Because I seriously thought "J" was going to have to do the whole ride-on-the-handlebars maneuver with me. It's nice knowing that he would have, but that he didn't have to in the end. Although it was a close call.

Afterwards, we bought some wine, cheese, crackers, maple syrup candy and headed back to our hotel. We rested, got our energy back, and celebrated a relationship milestone. High on life but low on energy, we headed to dinner at an adorable New England-style inn. We had the best butternut squash soup ever. We had a wonderful dinner of salmon and conversation, followed by a glass of port and the Red Sox game. The night was amazing - a perfect ending to a perfect day.

We woke up this morning to the sun shining brightly through the window of our hotel room. We were hesitant to leave this wonderful place, but excited to drive to our next stop, Brattleboro. We stopped and had breakfast - pumpkin pancakes with pure Vermont maple syrup - at a cute little diner nearby. Our waiter was straight (and I don't mean sexual orientation) out of The Sopranos. We had a totally appropriate conversation that to an outsider would sound like anything but, and cracked ourselves up thinking about the poor conservative couple sitting next to us, trying to enjoy their eggs.

Brattleboro was awesome. Total granola town with hippies, no bras, unshaven armpits, liberals, and artists. We loved it! We enjoyed lots of coffee, reading, tree climbing, and movie-making (make sure to check out "J's" facebook page for my debut role as the granola secret agent).

All-in-all, it was an amazing weekend. The drive back was all about sharing personal experiences (some of which were very uncomfortable (i.e. mine)). I will always be grateful that I was able to share this dream with "J" - the feeling of peace and happiness is one that I will not easily forget. I hope that I will have many more just like it. Yeah, the universe is a pretty awesome thing...

You seriously won't believe this...

Welcome, everyone, to the exciting chronicles of KP. Please, drop everything you're doing, forget everything bad that happened today, and come with me for just a minute. I promise you won't regret it.

So, we just went to the New Kids on the Block concert. And it was amazing. We wake up the next morning high on the drug that is our youth reincarnated. We threw on some clothes and walked up to Broadway for another round of good 'ole DD. Gotta love some french vanilla goodness on a Saturday morning! After breakfast we decided to spend some time with "J" and his amazing, beautiful, intelligent daughter who has me wrapped around her little finger. As any 4-year old would want to do, we put on a Hannah Montana concert. We jumped and sang into hair brushes and cooking spray bottles. We had a blast. Sadly, though, as much as "KB" and I tried to convince "Little J" that we should try singing to New Kids, she wasn't budging. It was Hannah. Over and over and over....

We decided we were going to hang out in Cambridge. Despite the never-ending rain that began the minute her plane touched down (and didn't stop until her plane took off on Sunday). We had a wonderful afternoon - a fabulous lunch at Z Square, the BEST hot chocolate on the eastern seaboard at Burdick, and a walk across Harvard's campus (and for those few minutes we were on site, they reported a significant drop in the overall IQ...).

Soaking wet and exhausted, we went home to get ready to go out with my old roomie. That's right. We were going to the gay bar! We spent lots of time making sure we were ready for this particular excursion. We definitely needed to make a good showing! We had a blast. We danced for what felt like 30 minutes, but turned out to be 2 1/2 hours. We danced on the stage. On the platform. There was no stopping us. We were hot!

The night ended, we said our goodbyes, and collapsed into bed. We were so exhausted. We said goodnight like a sexless lesbian couple would, and went to sleep. Until 4:30 am when my phone went off.

A text message from a number I didn't recognize said: "Hey stranger". Curious as to who is texting me from Rhode Island in the middle of the night, I, of course, ask the obvious question: "who is this?" Answer? "Drummer".

Now, most people who read this blog are familiar with said person. Some are not, however. A brief summary: I met drummer through my relationship(s) in Providence. A friend of a friend. We spent some time together - about a week - before I moved to Boston. Before I left to drive back to Michigan, "drummer" said some things that made me believe I would see him again. After about a week back home, all calls and text messages just stop. Completely. No explanation. No freak out. Nothing. Just totally MIA. That was almost 6 months ago.

So, you can understand my surprise, then, when at 4:30 in the morning, I receive a text message from him. After several attempts to try to get an explanation out of him, I receive the best text message ever. "Well, why don't we put the past behind us and send each other some dirty pictures." I. ALMOST. DIED. Um, I'm sorry, it's late/early, my eyes must not be working correctly. No one could really expect that I would just agree to this. My response: "There are several reasons why the answer is no. Not the least of which being I am not alone in my bed." He doesn't stop there. So sad. So pathetic. I end up giving it to him straight: "look...I have much more self respect than to do that. If I did send you pictures, it would imply that I have been waiting around for you to call me. And I haven't. Plus, and most important, I have found someone that will do all those things for me. I don't need pictures of you for anything." His response: "I guess it was silly to think you would send me pictures." SILLY!?! Yeah, I don't know that 'silly' would be the first word that came to my mind, but if that's all you can come up with...sure. We'll go with silly.

None of this is made up. It all really happened, and I have the text messages to prove it. I love how things have come full circle. I love that he came to me, and I shot him down. I love that I have found a wonderful boy in "J", who understands we all have pasts, and forgives me for all of my 'mistakes'. Most of all, I love that I now have this story to add to my arsenal. It's the one I'll whip out when a girlfriend calls me and says: "You won't believe what just happened to me..." Because, after this, I'll believe anything.