An Impromptu Date

Yesterday, I had big plans. I was going to do some final grocery shopping, go for a run, cook a meal Tim requested, meet up for my weight training session, do some Pilates. Some of that happened. But here’s what really happened.

I went to the grocery store without my phone and while I’m almost finished with the tedious task I see my husband walking towards me, trying to call me on his cell phone.

“I don’t have my phone,” I said.

“Noticed. Did you know you’re parked like right next to me?” He said.

“Really? Ha!”

“Yeah I came in here to buy lentils for dinner and I walk back out and there’s your car.”

“Oh man, I’m oblivious.”

We walk around the store for a bit longer picking out other things we need replenished. We talk about our days, even stole a smooch or two.

Then I tell him the wines are on sale. We spend a good 30 minutes in the wine section. We’re walking arms around one another, laughing at the names of wines, suggesting wines for one another. He likes Malbecs, I like Zinfandels. We start discussing our youth and the crappy wine we drank. We laughed and played our weird games. We were obnoxiously loud. My laughs echoed. Tim joked about the hand penned sign in the store stating “Ham Destination” and asked if we could vacation there. The man does love his ham. I tried to hide and Tim found me.

In the end Tim settled on a nice, classy boxed wine Malbec and I got plum wine and sake we also bought those grow capsules for kids. Why they were in the wine aisle I have no idea.

I didn’t end up running. I did end up cooking Tim the dinner he wanted and going to the gym. However, what was more important to me was realizing that the man who is my husband truly is my best friend. What started out as a quick grocery store mission turned into an impromptu date. It’s never a dull moment when you’re with your best friend and the person you love.  Love isn’t always about the passion and fire and ice and the sweeping off of feet. Sometimes it’s about realizing that just being around one another can be a romantic and cozy affair and can make the day better.

For Boston

It’s a sad time for America. Not just because of the two bombs that destroyed an iconic race but because we are a country divided. People are pointing fingers before the dust even settles. This was a terrorist act. That statement does not mean I am accusing one group or person or country over another. I am saying this was an act to inflict terror and it has succeeded. I am terrified that the people in our country can’t band together over a tragedy. Immediately accusations start flying and conspiracy theories, false information and other misguided facts and statements begin appearing. Before a tear can be shed “proof” has been posted. It’s a sad, sick way to live. Always looking for someone to blame instead of taking the time to donate blood, give your sympathies or in my case run a 5k to show your support for a marathon ripped asunder.

I am an American. If I wasn’t I would find my way out of this country. If you aren’t happy here I suggest that is what you do. If you can’t support your fellow Americans, I suggest that’s what you do. If you have left, then you made the right choice and no longer have any right to judge us for not following you.

Boston, I loved you before I met you. After my few short trips walking your streets, breathing your history and meeting your people I can say I truly love you. As someone who was training to be a first responder, my heart is with every EMT, Fire Fighter, Police Officer, Nurse, Doctor and anyone who rushed in to help their fellow man. The Boston Marathon brings in people from a multitude of countries and backgrounds. It’s something people train years to be able to even qualify. As a runner, I can’t imagine what that day, Patriot’s Day, was like for anyone involved. I know the thrill of seeing the finish line. I know the pain of training. I know the love you feel of people cheering you on. It’s gut wrenching to see what happened. I don’t have enough words to express my sympathies and that my love and thoughts are with you, Boston.

I don’t know what people went through on that day but I do know I saw many people rush into the danger, rush to help and strive to rescue. As heartbreaking as seeing those bombs go off was, I know Boston is a strong city built on survival and I know it’s people will always be there to rebuild, to grow and to care for one another. Boston, you are not my home, but you hold my heart. Sleep well knowing America, those patriots, stand behind you.

Call Me a Loser Because I Can't Win

First world problems? Sure. I am grateful I have a job and a job that allows me to work from home. I’m grateful for my loving husband. This is where my gratitude ends. I’ve had it with my efforts. I’m not normally a quitter. In fact, I preserver where many tell me to turn back, give up, let go.

I have met my wall. The move to California has won. I have been sick since I got here which has severely limited my physical abilities/activities. I haven’t gotten a good night sleep in weeks thanks to waking up every hour with a coughing spell or having Duke puke or the puppy use the carpeted floor as it’s personal bathroom. My husband is gone pretty much continuously. I get him on the weekends (sometimes).  I unpacked the house alone. I’m housebreaking a puppy alone. I’m exploring our area alone. Over the past 2 months I have gained 10 pounds, been mostly bed ridden, learned essentially a new job and found out California takes most of my paycheck.

This week is coming to a close, I get paid on Friday. I finally went to the doctor about my never ending illness. He provided a laundry list of suggestions, medications, etc. I can’t afford to do any of that until I get paid. I can’t even afford groceries to get me though the week. I had to ask Tim to transfer $20 into my bank account to cover the gas I put in my car. And he’s also stretching pennies so it’s not just me playing the penniless fiddle.

This is what California has done to me: Given me an endless supply of allergies acerbated by the dry air, take away most of my paycheck so that I am now trying to find a second job, take away my husband, added a puppy that will not be housebroken, changed my job requiring new training, weight gain and let’s see is there anything I’m missing oh yes, taken me away from a great establishment of friends and family.

Sure the sun is out but I’d trade it to be able to afford groceries, medications and gas any day of the week. I know this is a woe’s me post. I know I’m sharing too much. Oh no Leila is being open with feelings. Get over it. Writing is my outlet; if you can’t handle my misery then don’t read it. This isn’t a pity party this is me giving up, which I NEVER DO but I am so tired and sick and upset. So I’m done, I’m retiring. No more Leila to kick around. I’m going to disappear, buckle down. I’m going to focus on me so I don’t get sucked into a black hole. I’m bowing out of humanity until I can see the good in myself again. If you see this as me saying I'm killing myself then you're an idiot. I'm just going to be ex-communication until I can find my bearing again.

I’m waving my white flag, you win California, enjoy picking the flesh from my carcass. Let my bones bleach in the desert.