Weakish Recap

It's not been my strongest or best week.. hence the weak. . . so let's get to it.

A quiet weekend rolled into a quiet Lundi Gras. Kbird agreed to come with me to the office for a little while on Monday before our day of adventuring began.
Since my newly mani'd nails (color not of my own choice) had already removed the offensive color on their own I hurriedly slapped on a coat of "shower together" which could actually be referred to as Smurf Blue. It's fun.. sillly.. not serious.. So me.

While fooling the general world that I know what I am doing.. Kailey looked about my oddly shaped and furnished work space and found pictures that she remembered and also saw a glimpse of the past when she realized my brother is, indeed, spitting image of my father. Interesting to see the connections there.. especially when you see pictures of a younger momma.. and see a great deal of her in me.

We ran errands and scoped out a new place to live.. and giggled and laughed and somehow managed to annoy Jeremy -- but then again I do that by breathing some times.

And in the scope of the next few days I found my comfort with visits with Buster and Hissy both.. two nites in a row.. the greatest thing about this is being able to jump up and go.. whether its to Nanny's to eat dinner celebrating 89 years of life... or gathering at Snowball's for great pizza and strawberries.. with not one but TWO sorts of sugar..

I am still fighting something that wants me to be sick.. Nite time phone calls are shorter (yet just as sweet) and not so laughter filled this week. I haven't really been cranky.. jus sleepy and not willing to fight/snipe/or flirt. Mark *that* down.

Two nites this week I was actually visited in dreams by people I'd like to deal with. One nite was a full nite of confrontation.. with nothing being settled.. how like my waking world. No one died. And should I be allowed this confrontation in the real world I cannot say that that will happen. I am pretty unhappy,, and I've confirmed.. it's well within my right to be so.
The other was sweeter but verily impossible to happen because there was actually peace.. not on earth.. jus in my family.

So today is a day of work.. more training and nail painting and vitamin taking. I will leave a couple hours early since I spent part of Monday here.. It's Lent in Louisiana so.. that means seafood.. which means a deadly version of chicken around here for me. I'll attempt this no meat thing but the first sight of shrimp and I will be on an all steak diet. I think I'll do either sushi or Agave patio later.. and maybe some Buster time.. we have an escape to plan.. I have all my sugars lined up..

World Peace

Besides a Wii this was on my Christmas list that everyone got if they asked..
And we all know in my world.. with my people.. and the men in my life.. (even those I escort to the door) it's jus not possible.

In my little corner of heaven today I decided to pamper and reset myself.
I slept late -- was on wedding makeup duty but escaped easily since no call from Kbird.
I made coffee and read a good book and avoided cell calls til any more avoidance would have equated to a visit to the bayou and I wasn't ready for that...
I went to the local (!) grocery store for gumbo supplies... with bad hair, no makeup, a tee shirt and work out pants on. No one died. Nor did I make much eye contact....
And set about to making gumbo along with not one but two batches of the best cookies in the world..
First was a twist on last weekend's coconut shortbreads by making Almond shortbreads.. wow.
Then World Peace cookies. Chocolate with Chocolate. With chocolate. I havent actually tasted them.. from a divine couple food blogs that I'd found.. but the house smells like perfection.

Speakin of perfection.. you know it'll be a good gumbo when the chicken falls off the bone before you even start thinkin about deboning it.. I cannot wait to taste this tomorrow.. we have a cold front workin its way through.

Earlier my bestest mommy and I went to Duffy's where I had schicken corn (fried corn on the cob) and attempted to have liver for an iron boost... but the livers were bitter and mealie.. and not so yummy.. and the waitress was not so attentive.. and I almost forgot my purse.. and it's been a cursed sorta few days.

If it's droppable -- I dropped it.
If it's breakable -- I shattered it.
If it's hurtable -- I hurt it. (feelings included apparently)
If it's bitchable -- I bitched about it.

I gave tone via text.. I reconnected with a piece of my soul.. I found peace where I never thought I'd encounter it.. and I've laughed. I've laughed more in the last few days.. even through my tears ... than I have in months.
Some of it was delirious laughter.. but laughter nonetheless.

And it was pointed out to me.. that this ... space.. is for my rants.. my raves.. and loves.. but rarely do I mention the really good, really happy, really meaningful things..

And I think back to a long ago list of men (some who mattered and some who mattered very little) and an aside I added towards the end of that post..
I am afraid of jinxing myself.
Now more than ever, I see the potential. I feel the "stars" aligning.. I know what I next move is.. for me. I also see how things have worked out recently.. from corners of the world that I trusted and held true.

So for now.. it's me and you.. and you get what I give you. And if you make me react in a negative manner you'll prolly get an eyefull should you happen upon this blog.. and if you make me giggle or laugh out loud.. sigh, wish, hope, or dream.. or remember the long ago past and the girl that I was.. well.. you'll have to wait a bit longer for your day in the sun in my little world of happiness here on the bayou.

So it's a rainy, cool, Saturday nite. K'bird and I wanted to escape to New Orleans tomorrow but the Duck sorta ruined that plan.. So I am going to call my day of innerness to an end.. Tomorrow is gumbo and family.. and Monday will force me into the office for as little a period of time as possible with adventures, errands, lists, and major shopping to fit in around parades... and at LEAST one bloody mary. It's required... and Tuesday will once again find me where I want to be.

Can't escape.. Otherwise known as "No More Lookin Back Nicole!"

So.. I must confess to flipping off red trucks.

Perish the thought if they have particular football team vanity plates. In the front.

Or covers.

Or tool hitches.

Or window stickers.

Or bumper stickers.

Or men inside. Wearing hockey jerseys. Or baseball caps.



I might have to let go of the baseball cap thing ...



So I am out and about.. adventuring in the hunt of.. well..

And I glance back..

And I see...
And I think.. No.Way.P0ssible.

And I look closer.. And am forced to snap a quick AT&T Tilt pic..
See it?
I can't get away.
I cannot escape.

I followed a Gwinnette person in the other day.. I still can't spell the damn county name..

Now this.

"G is for Georgia"

~ Elmo

So I send CrazyAle a text.. and tell her to tell Mel to leave me alone.. I'd have said to tell Voo to stop stalkin me.. but we all know he likes the 'Cocks. Gamecocks that is.

And for a minute I was sad.. for them.. for then.. for there.

Then I realized that if I were there.. THIS would have still happened. Work would still suck. People would make bad choices and let me down in the exact manner they've done before. And I'd miss my family, my Buster, my Hissy, and my opportunity here.

It is so good to be in the land of purple, green, & gold.

But it was so good to be reminded of good times with good people... even if they did call me LSWhoo.

Krewe de la Renaissance Acadienne

Welcomes you.. as a Spectator to observe the 2009 Ball Procession January 31, 2009

If you arent from Louisiana or you live under a rock it might be hard to understand that we take Mardi Gras and the season surrounding it pretty seriously.

There's Krewes, Balls, Masques (another kinda ball), parades, Family Gras, throws, king cakes, drinks, and lots and lots of good times.. not always family oriented.

This evening was full family fun.. several aunts a couple cousins, and well.. royalty.

I have my own beliefs of how the season should pass... seeing as how I have a firm attachment to the New Orleans way of life.. Personally my real season begins tomorrow, the Thursday before Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday 2/23/09 this year) and rolls until late Sunday nite. At that point, my celebration becomes geared towards recovery and family.. this might have to do with the fact that several years ago after following this pattern my 'ways' might have caused my gallbladder to explode and adhere to my liver --- maybe. But you wont make me really believe that. Four days of drinking white russians shouldnt do anyone harm.. as long as they aren't drivin and they dont go to the hotel room with that cute guy that they were kissin on the balcony.. but .. .yet again.. I digress.

Here's a few pictures that we took at the Ball. It was a good time had by all with a visit from Elvis and Marilyn Monroe and Boudreaux & Thibodeaux who went to Vegas to escape their wives.. My uncle was Thibodeaux (I think) and my aunt was cast as his wife.

We heard her well before we recognized her..

No.. Snowball wasn't drinkin.. I was jus off center and we'd kept her well up past her bedtime.. I had a blast.. it was a whole bunch of home town folks that I havent seen in years and barely spoke to.. I personally would love to see these cajuns turn out to act a play as well as they went along with the goins on.. but I also understand all's fair in love and Mardi Gras..

Pieces of me

So.. in my international version of 'who's line is it anyway' I am sitting on a conference call with a leader named Ganga. She's got the same speech pattern as my dear angel Veera.

Oddly enough, I had just tried to email him yesterday.. and the email bounced.
Makes me sad to have lost him. Even momentarily. In hearing Ganga lead this call I find myself missing him all the more than I do in my normal day to day nuttiness.
A biochemical engineer who loved soccer and was an amazing man.. And that Alabama Roll Tide team.. who saved me and the ladies in Birmingham more than once. Vee that brought me back to life and showed me the light of living in a world that was pretty dark and grim for me. He took me to my first biker bar. He made me laugh. He brought me tea. We watched movies and drank rum and laughed.. and he made it ok to be 29 again. Surrounded by work family -- who cared but were so much older.. in such different places.. Vee was my refreshing breath of fresh air that allowed me to breathe deep and not gasp from sudden pain.
I do so hope he's well. I do so hope he returns to me one day. We are bound, quite firmly, for life.
After all, I have his LSU tee shirt. Alabama doesn't have an attitude, they're just that good.

A week has brought us quite far.. highs and lows.. it's not often that I don't have some sort of revelation of Nikkiness.. so why should this be any different, right?

A week ago (last Monday) while on the phone with the Duck I mentioned a man by a specific name. His quick mind asked a question that I could tell he couldn't hold back. Some random detail or dropped comment came to mind and he verbally vomited his question. "Godiva or Lafayette".

I carry within myself pieces of each of you.. parts of me that surface from time to time when reminded in my normal ordinary life. A speech pattern. The fact that a random conversational fact was filed away and asked about later.

My Duck. He *does* listen. He *does* pay attention.
And on that very not good day when I'd rather be hiding under the bed (not even the covers the actual bed) he picked up his guitar and started playing "one thing".
And in talking about hopes and dreams and idle threats and plans for the future.. both the distant one and the more near future ... in laughing through my tears.. and crying through my gasps for breath from laughter.. that part of me that carries pieces of the Duck kinda shifted.. shimmered. And I drifted off to a sweet sleep calmly and in a much better place due to him.

Then last nite I get a call on my cell.. A week later my mood is not as happy or light (and it hadnt been the week before if we're honest) and there's my K'bird's cell coming through.. in a place where I rarely have cell phone signal.
I say "hello" and am met by the sound of gasps. It could be sobs. It could be laughter. My entiring being dropped for a second.
Thank God and all that's good and kind and right that it was laughter.
We have our own lil family drama being played out in what seems to be a 6 act play.
I may have to put it to paper and make a fortune one day.. simply for the fact that no screenwriter could make this shit up..
But I digress.
Seems #6's husband now has a Myspace.
In a world that isn't messy enough.. that doesn't have a drama filled ending jus yet.. we add a crusty layer of ... well. insanity.
But the greatest part was listening to that little girl.. who's growing into a young woman by leaps and bounds.. laugh in only a way that family can understand.

And in the quiet of the nite?

It all became ok. Or a little bit more so because not "all" of the all is even close to being ok. I have some very valid reasons to not be ok with some of this.. some of that.. and some of you.

I just had to remember that sometimes the pieces of me are reflected back to me in the pieces of you that I hold most dear.

Baking with Buster

final product.. or better known as "other uses for crawfish trays"

Baking in that oven that really, really rocks

His "I didn't do it" look

His busted look

Buster ... busted.

Pre Val Day baking of cookies with Buster and Kailey.. We'd found the perfect sprinkles at Target and he'd been so good shopping all day they were his treat. Note the dark circles.. I tried to spoil him all weekend. k

Lady like ... for me

In my bang up job of managing to bumble and fumble across several parishes (what you would call a county) I heartily enjoyed myself over the end of my last week. Early morning conference calls have me making myself take a break and walk away for a lunch hour or break at least to run and fetch a seaweed salad and salmon roll now and again.. or hummus from Zeus. Which isn't Phoenicia or Jeremy or Bassam.. but a touch of the old me til I return to them.

So.. mid flirt I stumbled across a recipe for Toasted Coconut Shortbread cookies. (insert angelic choir here)

In a word: yum.

I'll attempt to add some pics from Baking with Buster later.. and I believe I have a few shots of these honeys.

First let me tell you that I don't believe coconut to be the hairy dry shit that some people insist on slapping ontop of perfectly nice coconut cake frosting.
This one is toasted to candied yumminess. Then ground.
Give it a chance. Like the fluffy girl with the cleavage showing. .it might jus suprise you.. in a good way.

I'll admit in advance I suck at usin rolling pins as anything but man defense systems.. so I did the rum ball approach and then flattened out with my fingers. tres yums.

Ok.. without further adieu:

Toasted coconut shortbread

1/2 cup (about 1.5 ounces) unsweetened shredded coconut*
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks or 6 ounces) unsalted butter, room temperature**
1/2 cup plus 1 teaspoon sugar
3/4 teaspoon coarse kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/3 cups all purpose flour
Preheat oven to 325°F. Spread coconut on rimmed baking sheet. Bake until coconut is light golden, stirring occasionally, about 8 minutes. Cool completely, then grind in a coffee grinder, food processor or blender (magic bullet time!) until coarsely ground.
Using electric mixer, beat butter and sugar in large bowl until well blended. Mix in salt and vanilla. Beat in flour in 2 additions. Stir in toasted coconut. Gather dough together, flatten into a disc and wrap in plastic. Chill at least 1 hour. (Can be prepared 2 days ahead. Keep chilled. Soften slightly at room temperature before rolling out.)
Preheat oven to 325°F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. Roll out dough disk on lightly floured work surface to scant 1/4-inch thickness. Using 1 3/4- to 2-inch-diameter cookie cutters, cut dough into rounds. Transfer cookies to prepared baking sheets, spacing 1 inch apart. Gather dough scraps and reroll; cut out additional cookies.
Bake cookies until light golden, about 20 minutes. Cool on baking sheets 10 minutes. Transfer cookies to racks and cool completely (see momma, they said COMPLETELY!) (Can be made ahead. Store airtight at room temperature up to 1 week.)
* I couldn’t find unsweetened, so I used sweetened and dialed back the sugar by 2 tablespoons.
** If you’re looking for an excuse to splurge on the good butter, shortbread is it. You will absolutely appreciate the extra flavor as it shows up in this cookie.

~~

So Yeah.. Margaret got mad at me for not givin her a hot cookie. The cold ones were so much better tho.. I hope she'd agree -- even silently.
These were totally lady like.. jus like a lady should be.. sweet, crisp, jus a hint of salt.. a surprising bite of ... well heaven.
They rounded out a weekend of wonderfulness that will be kept for me and me alone (well the parties involved are aware of the wonderfulness.. but tha's a different story)

I am thinkin of adaptin the recipe beeeteeedubs (btw) to use almond and amaretto.. cause you know.. I rock like that. Ask Buster.

Super duper difficulties

So my webpage hasn't been cooperating any more than my normal world.. what a surprise huh?

Since I might be recovered... I'll attempt to share while I can.

It's been a great boon to be home & having buried Keith in the swamp I can say this now...
Some days I had to hide happiness to not offend Keith.
Some days I have to hide sadness so my momma doesn't worry.
The worries of getting here were hard enough but the being here has been most stressful for me.
Some days I can't tell the difference of where I am as opposed to where I was. Cube walls are cube walls and my cordless headset still hurts my ear the same here as there.
My hair is less prone to cooperate.. the fashion choices haven't changed and the accents are all that seems to have changed.
Going back to Atlanta would only give me good people to have lunch with.. the same people couldn't help me with my struggles at work other than give me empathy.. they have their own struggles.

I think one of the greatest things about my drive to work now (about 30 minutes) is that I can radio scan with the best of em and some of my favorite voices are in my ears.
I've mentioned before; while musically UNtalented, I am musically minded. I have a few music rules.. If I like the song or the DJ it stays.. commercials are opportune times to scan... and without holding their customer base that I dis like against xm or whomever they are branded as now I am tempted.. jus for the variety.

I used to give Nick Bazoo fits over my determination to veer outside my demographic. I like(d) boy music according to him.. I don't think I am the only 27-35 female to fall outside of their demo.. As shown as apparent as Rod Ryan being available in the NOLA market after his escape/deportation to Houston.

Returning home gives me a few of my favorite things.. family, food, spaces, people.. and voices.

Jason Ginty is on the air here. Tard is on the air here. Rod is on the air here.. or at least catchable (and oh so yummy-- he's jus so naughty).

I really need to track Spinny down and find out if he's on the air at all.. I miss him the most.. and (lol) actually know him.

These personalities and bad boy personas are quite a treat as I drive in the morning into the office. I normally have a smile on my face and am pleased as punch when I get here.
So very different than the Nikki you'd know before.
Even in the morning.


/Finis

mental'ish mumblings

When I chose to return home I think it's pretty clear I left a life behind.
I think it's pretty apparent that I will need to accept sooner or later each of those lives will move on in their own directions. Their worlds have not ended simply because I left.
I don't accept things well sometimes.
Sue me.

One thing that I thought was a given was I was returning to a friendship that had survived years. Marriages. Babies. Careers. Failings. Losses. Successes.
The one thing I learned in 2008 was to put myself on the list of people who matter.
In doing this I learned something else.. people in my life may be in my life to amuse me but they don't always have me on the list of people who matter.
Or to put it differently.. my ranking in their world might be different than I would have it.

And in this case I was forced to face the fact that if I mattered to me then I needed to take a stand.
Color someone surprised. Nikki will take a stand.

I thought about it over a couple of weeks. Actually, considering my first blow up with the situation happened on the nite of the LSU loss to UGA and it was significant enough to sober me after a day of heavy, hard, and bitter drinking (I remember walking into the first restaurant and walking out of the last bar) the fact that the final show down happened as recently as the end of January surprises me.

It doesn't matter what I want to squeeze or where. Sometimes I just don't get a vote.

Sometimes I take away the chance to vote.

In this case, I did. I was in a panic -- not my norm, I swear.. And I was in a tizzy. I disapprove on so many fronts. I am hurt on more than one front. I have my pride to consider, surely.. but more than that. I have my morals. My belief in what is right and true. And this situation isn't.
So wha's Nikki to do?
Buy a new top, freshen her makeup, pick up sushi.. and head to a coffee shop for the showdown of her short lived life.

I mean how fun is it to walk way from a very full, getting to be very happy life and walk in to one where you disinvite people within minutes of return? Seriously. I'm *good.*

I don't need to give you more than this.
I closed a door that's been open for 15+ years.
I pulled up the welcome mat.
I shed a few tears.. took a deep breath and headed back to the office.
And found "got to be true to myself" on the MP3 player. Followed by "I'm yours".
I've bent over backwards to try to see both of my situations clearer.

I can't. Can't then. Can't now.

The truth never changes -- Can't change my past. Can't change the lines of the person inside of me to agree with something I whole-heartedly disagree with. Can't sit there and take it, smiling, and not have every emotion of disbelief and disapproval flash upon my very animated face. Can't help but want to fix. But here's what I can do.
I can accept that *this* is the you I've loved all along.
I can accept that if I love you then I cannot change what makes you *you*.
I can accept the same idea for me.
Therefore I can change my situation by loving you as you are and allowing myself to move on.

~

It's going to a pretty empty world without you in it. Quiet. Somber. But this is my way of drawing a new face..

And in the quiet, still of my day I can admit that I actually said my goodbyes when my heart caught on to what was going unsaid. Sometimes, apparently, the mouth takes a bit longer to accept the fact as just that. The snotty bitch in me says, however, that you jus prefer to lob grenades into my world when I am forced to be polite to save the scene as opposed to deal with me when I can react.

But react I do.

And then I move on. As ever.

Much

excuse the inturruption

Some thing I did offended blogger.

I think I've apologized/groveled/panic scrolled through help enough.

Take 2.

Not a morning person

I have had a few Nikki moments since returning home.

I am not a morning person and really haven't had to drive more than 4 miles to get to work in almost 9 years.

Atlanta was less than a mile.

Post Katrina was about 3 miles.

Pre Katrina was about a mile and a half.


I have developed my routines of coffee in the morning.. a stop at Granny's and then haulin to Lafayette while observing the 55 MPH speed limit. If I leave at 8:10 I am in the office for 9 and let's face it.. I was always in the office for about well. later...


A few weeks ago I hadn't brought my coffee cup out of the car.

Layla had been over the nite before and we'd had to deadbolt the house to keep her inside (I know).

I wanted a pedicure and was going to wear peep toe pumps to work so I had an extra pair of shoes in my hand.. my cell.. and figured I could bring them to the car as the first trip before getting on the road.. I took the key clickie thing off the top of the tv stand and went outside to get my coffee cup and the door apparently swung shut behind me..


After Hurricane Rita and the ensuing rebuild my mother installed doors that *always* open from the inside.. the trick is to know if its locked or not. This time.. it was.


I am locked out of my mothers house with only my key clickie thing for the car -- no extra set. No extra house keys. No nothing.

I threw on the shoes that I, luckily, had in my hand and plod on down to Granny's house.

Call mom.

No extra keys.

Call Mike & Libby.

No answer.

Look beseechingly at my Granny and ask to borrow the limo to go to work.

To say I wasn't pleased is an understatement.. in the general luck of Nikki I found that Snowball needed gas in the limo and I needed coffee so I stop to fill up and manage to bang the hell out of my leg with the huge assed door.

The entire way? Laughing. At myself. At my luck. At how.. I wouldn't trade being there for anything in the world. What upset me the most was having left crawfish that we'd peeled for Granny's lunch out on the table.. So later I called my brother and he agreed to go and get the leftovers and deliver them for me.

The nicest thing my brother has ever done for me.. happened that day too. (yes I mean ever.. we don't have the greatest of friendships) He brought my set of keys to Snowballs from the door. He figured if I beat momma home I'd want in.

It was a rough day. It was not the most horrid thing ever.. I wasn't even late... I was FOR SURE frazzled.. but it's a good look for me.. or rather. .it happens so often I am used to it.

So.. we find joy in the small things.. humor in the most inopportune moments.. because if we don't we will miss out on the fact that THIS is all there is.. this is IT.. life. Meant to be lived, loved, and learned from.

Much

Pieces of me

In my world of online training courses and long drives to and from work I have more quiet time than I did before.. time to think, process, wonder.

I find patches that are missing or painful and think over them as the adult me chooses to.. Logic has had a very small role in my world. Logic is best left to gamer girls who wear hoodies and don't get pedicures. Logic is not for me.

Til I want to apply it anyway.



I want to understand why I am the way I am.. to know me fully and well. To be sure that this definition of life and happiness that I am chasing down is the right path and not a fairy tale left over from a girl who had her nose buried in books to escape.



I don't know how.. or why.. but I somehow have misplaced a major period of my life.

I know there's that whole finding yourself thing.. but I really -- drastically really -- dont remember most of 2005.



Christmas of 2004 I had met Donnie. I remember. .it was his birthday and then Wade's birthday and they both loved Diva so.



I remember the person that I was. Clearly.



Mardi Gras came and Donnie and I had a falling out (what a surprise) and every man thereafter had to hear the story of the boyfriend who wouldnt take me to the hospital.



I do recall that I met Nathan in March or so.. in the midst of a marathon of dating.

I think the roster was at 9 or so at the time.. John with crystal blue eyes and an ex girlfriend from hell. He was slightly trumped by Shannon -- Shannon who never really rang right or true... but he took me do touch & go's at the Lakeside airport in the middle of the night with all the lights of the city seeming like a fairy tale.. but he was so.. disconnected.. like a little boy looking for more and more toys.. never where he was supposed to be.. never to be found when wanted -- or needed. There was the guy Ashley.. who thought I was picking a fight EVERY time I opened my mouth ...



Hell. Nathan..when he came along.. he seemed like a prize.

I remember that he complained about me being on the cell all the time. (I had man maintenance to do damnit!) And as we progressed and the others faded away and talk began about one townhouse instead of two.. and no roommate.. and living in (ick) Luling.. I remember the fights. I remember the lack of trust.. which made no sense.



Who was that girl that dated him? I mean if you fast forwarded over through to November/December, Donnie and I made peace -- I was at fault for not being clear.. he was an ass.. still is.. but he'll take me to the hospital and he snuggles good. Donnie has no issue with the me now to the me then.. Shannon and I made peace (he didn't admit he was married til 08 so I didn't want to kill him yet) and who can compete with a Jesuit boy--knew something wasn't right with THAT picture!? Both of them found me to be the same girl.. I still speak to them on a regular basis. They don't look at me and ask why I am different.



But who the hell was I? I cannot possibly be that same girl. My life blurs from Nathan thru Katrina. And it strikes me as odd that it's as blocked as it is.



Did I really almost marry him? Move away to freakin Indiana with him? This man that in this short period of time has faded to the point that I cannot recall much about him? When I say much.. I mean.. I can hardly remember his face. I remember his dog better than him. The stoneware.. the kitchen.. Was it just a haze of alcohol in a body that wasn't processing much of anything?



I remember shortly after Katrina he remarked that I was handling everything "very well" -- I know I am high strung and wound tight.. It was as major event in my life.. this losing of *everything.* The fact that I was vertical should have been remarkable.



Yet.. Somehow I can fit Mohammed into the picture -- I remember him quite clearly. My time with him.. my time waiting for him.. my realizing that I'd never count higher than 5 or so on the list of important things. (Personally I think it's about 10) and he was smack in the middle of post Nathan and pre Katrina.. so what the hell ?



Was that storm.. that relationship.. the losses in all aspects of my world so drastic that I blocked them and therefore him out?



Understand me well. .the man was not good news. Always a scam. Always a plan. Always twisting and turning a situation to see if he could win.. or at least best someone. A cheater before he believed everyone would cheat because he did.. Strange fights taking up all free time that shouldn't have been overloaded with him .. yet was because he had no trust.

And it all ended with me saying that if he felt so poorly about me.. if I was such a horrid person he could leave..



~Did he remember how to get back to the interstate or did he want me to draw him a map.



I did all the things I would expect of *me*. I might have put up with some crap but I learned compromise and I learned what my limits were. I didn't tolerate ugliness. I didn't allow him to stay. I pulled up that doormat and I closed the door.



But the 32 year old in me is wondering about that girl from over three years ago. I don't like that I don't remember or recall. That his face is a blurred out patch.



He shaped the me that you know.. So he should be sort of.. well.. at least remembered... no? Or maybe he didn't and it was just all part of the nightmare that was..

I know he has no role in my present.

It bothers me to lose pieces of my past.



The people I know and have known.. I carry them with me as pieces of me.. Lessons learned.. Fractures on a heart that's a little tattered at times. I don't want to lose the lesson.



Maybe the closing of that door.. the pulling up of the welcome mat.. The loss of blood flow to that part allows the blurring out. Perhaps it's for the best to not recall. Because in sitting down to make this even slightly understandable.. cleared up a few things for me.



It's been a long road my friends.

Much