To miss you

I have always been a solitary creature, not prone to longing of individual or place, content to live with myself, exist with my own thoughts, conjecture and sometimes conversation
As a child I would spend hours entertaining myself, never hearing the door creaking and my worried mother so peeping her bemused head and inquisitive eyes through the crack to apprise and thus surmise this strange child who composed lyrics and plays to entertain the silent and invisible majority that comprised her friends
And though I formed strong friendships and convenient social attachments throughout the progression of my life, with overlong exposure I would feel thus confined and need to break free to the solace and silence of my mind and heart, belonging to the world but never truly apart, I chose to stay apart.
And then there was you. At first our periods of intimacy and companionship interspersed with separation were once again convenient to me, truly too much time with one human let alone a man would previously sent me into a threatened tail spin for fear of losing supposed relished and sovereigned autonomy, avoiding a connection or commitment for fear of rejection of self or reprisal of true character, would someone accept me truly. oh i was not sure.
And as our lives and heart drew closer and you demolished walls erected for closure and protection, i find myself most vulnerable and most open to you and despite myself think of you each moment and long for you each hour. What meaning is this, to miss someone if not hearing beloved voice or seeing sweet face, strange place to call home when all of one's time is spent with one's own and there is neither confinement nor resentment but sweet reality that this is where I am supposed to and most long to be..You are the only one I ever truly missed and the last one i ever want to kiss.

Cling together part 2

Today was a crabby day. I felt fat, tired, work was uninspiring and my back ached. I could run the gamut of minor annoyances that are plaguing me; truth be told, there is nothing substantially wrong and I am just having an off day. So instead of crabbing it up to my husband, and bitching down the proverbial list of every negative tic, I made an overall statement about my irritability, whicy drew from him both compassion for my plight and a kindred spirit. He proceeded to regail me with pent up frustrated confessions about his incompetant boss, as he could well empathize with the frustrating work component I shared. This both lightened his spirit and cleared his focus my way. When he arrived home, I was greeted with an enthusiastic kiss and plan to take me to dinner to "cheer me out of my gloom". This turned the corners of my mouth in an upward motion, enabling me compartmentalize my truly insignificant plight and focus on the positive. How fortunate I am to have a strong ally with whom I can share all of my joy, frustration and laughter. How blesssed to have a human litmus test to truly assess if my sour mood is justified or merely hormonal. How nice to have a person willing to put aside his frustration in consideration of my own. That is enough to turn any sour mood sweet!

you have to cling together

My husband and I invariably experience periods of discontent amidst the splendor of love. Ok, to more aptly put it, we fight. Not very often, but alas, not very well. There is a rational and respectful method to battle in which each participant expresses their contrary view point in a calm and collected manner, with empathy and understanding reciprocated though the point is not neccessarily agreed. We have not quite gotten to that point. And sometimes our mutual immaturity, in retrospect, shames and humors us. The period of acclimation when a relationship is newly established is tense enough. Integrating lifestyles is accompanied by exposure to new moods, habits and traits not necessarily desired. And we are expected to endure and ignore that which irritates us, as we made a conscious choice to blend lives and hearts. And though blanketed by love, there are proverbial snags in the fabric. And we are no exception. We shout, we pout, and the silence of intropsect and resentment ensues. And though we have gotten better, less delay between inception and resolution, as the initial arguements would last for a period of days and now we are laughing and enjoying each other soon after the heated exchange. Nevertheless occasional criticism and hateful words are flung, which we later so duly regret. How does one fight well? When strong emotion is the basis for a passionate and loving relationship, the dark side to that coin is that those same strong emotions that elicited great love also spark great anger. It is a slippery slope. I love my husband, and yet we struggle with working together when we argue as oppossed to drifting away from our alliance when we have opposing views. An old friend once told me, when asked how she made it through the tense struggles she and her husband experienced when newly married and faced with financial, career and child rearing struggles, that you have to "cling together through the turmoil or else it will drive you apart." Wise words indeed. I feel as though my husband is my greatest ally, the one who understands and accepts me unconditionally, loving me despite and for all components of my being. Perhaps for our next arguement, instead of turning away in anger I shall grasp his hand and literally cling to his love, even while fuming or feeling resentment over something that will undoubtedly prove insignificant in the greater picture of life.

About this friend

I have a bevy of interesting and dynamic friends that invariably become the subject of one of my blogs. What better diversity of content to draw from than what is gleaned from their experience and perspective? And I do believe we all have that quintessential "friend" that dates and thinks like a dude, though she is unwaveringly feminine in appearance and demeanor. She just has the base common sense to accept when something is not working and thus make an alternate choice that will work, unlike most of us who steep in insignificance and disappointment waiting for a man to change or decide that he wants us. This pragmatism has worked primarily for her in that she can decisively filter through men that are not a suitable match, but worked against her in that she has perhaps been too picky in her selection. She become involved with someone late last year, who after a speculative period of time, she decided would be her next lover/boyfriend/companion. This is attributed partly to his slight mystery and elusivity during their courtship; she never really felt like she had him, therefore he became more appealing. Due to her charisma and beauty, men tend to fall rather easily, and the more disinterested she becomes, the more they pursue. The fact that this guy had stolen her lines and method, that she was forced to walk in the uncomfortable shoes normally worn by her suitors was a genius move on this his part. Though truly I don't know if his behavior was intentional; the result of a skilled hunter who can assess his prey and alter his mechanism of tracking to lure and thus capture. Or the proverbial pieces falling into place when something is meant to work out. And after months of not knowing exactly where she stood, true to nature, she grew bored and backed off. Likewise he was a little reticent about becoming too close too quickly. So they took a mutual break, dated others, and realized what they had together was way better for them both. Fast forward a month later, she is now in an official "relationship" with him, they have met each other's children, and things are falling into place quite easily. In seemed as if one minute they were walking in opposite directions and the next minute they had changed course to plot a path that helped them meet in the middle. And I wonder at the conclusion-timing, destiny, chance or strategic plotting? I speculate a little bit of them all. But thankfully I don't have to speculate on the outcome, for I see the paths forging towards each other until blessedly intertwined for a long lasting journey.

My husband's words on life with Elizabeth

My husband has agreed to a role reversal and will thus serve as guest speaker on this blog, commenting on life with a tornado. Though my verbiage, this is his true narrative.
Says he : "being married to you is like a roller coaster ride. The ups are like life on a desert island with no cell phones, no computers, no stress. The down's are like a ghost train.".
And of course i asked him what a "ghost train" was, as this s a British euphemism and my American ignorance seems to be kicking in. Sometimes I need a Webster's dictionary to follow a conversation with him. It is probably his smarmy English one up man ship.
He continued " A ghost train is a fair ground ride, with things that jump out and scare you, like ghosts and skeletons. "
Of course I became quite happy with him comparing me to a skeleton; my diet must be finally working.
Seriously, I try not to take offense to his insinuating that I am moody. Me, moody? As if.
he continues "every day is like an adventure." I stop him right there. I tell him to stop throwing cliche verbs and descriptors my way and tell me the truth about what life is like with me.
he goes on " I love it! I don't however like the downs, and sometimes I wish you trusted me more. The occasional distrust and questions are the ugly demons of your past rearing their heads".
I say "Oh and I suppose you are the priest who will exorcise my monsters. "
He continued "no the robes do nothing for my hips".
He continues "We are a good fit. We simply enjoy each other, like now. We don't need to endlessly plan activities to have a good time. We can simply "be" with each other. Renting movies, running on the beach, talking. We are content on our own. We don't rely on the stimulus of other people to enjoy our time. We like to occasionally tell the world to go to hell and be alone. That makes me happy. "
As a side bar, my husband has this "thing" with his feet. He does not like anyone touching his feet, so of course in between typing his words I grab at this feet, which annoys the hell out of him. My goal completely. After the third time of his dodging my attempts to tickle his ever elusive feet, he nearly falls out of his chair, which causes me to erupt in laughter. "Stop it". He commands. "if you want me to keep helping you, stop taking the piss out of me. " Another English verb. At least I know what that means. Stop making fun of me. But isn't that one of the essential elements to any good relationship, humor and balance. We are always trying to take the "piss" out of each other. We laugh together well, we co-exist and cross exist beautifully. And though he will have to deal with my "downs" from time to time, and he will have to endure my teasing and picking at his feet, that is what makes our connection strong enough for the long haul. The balance of humor and support. And I wouldn't trade this new life for anything.