Why I Love Small Towns

Since being laid-off, I've been looking for some gigs here and there to make ends meet while freeing up some time to pursue my entrepreneurial ideas.

And this is how my journey has gone thus far.

The amazing Cape Ann Farmers' Market manager put me in touch with a local winery who was looking for a "salesperson" to staff their tent at the market.

I also got in touch with a woman who has a shop around the corner from my house. She makes bags and other items from recycled sails. One of the items she makes is... wine giftbags.

Another one of the ppl in my greater friendship circle is a blacksmith - and makes corkscrews.

All three are happy - nay, delighted - to sell one another's merch at their various locations. (Well, okay, I can't see the wine anywhere but the CAFM, but I can hand out info cards.)

So, with ll this good karma floating around, I shouldn't have been surprised at last Sunday's events.

A lovely couple came into a wine tasting and we started chatting. I can't remember how we got on the topic, but it turns out the wife and I have both done charity bike rides. I mentioned that I had completed mine on a hybrid. "Oh heavens!" she said, "I'm impressed." At the end of the conversation - knowing how much money she needed to raise for her upcoming involvement in the PanMass Challenge, I told her to please stop by again and I would pledge her.

After telling me how nice that was, she asked if I'd ever thought about getting a road bike. Sure, I joked, if you can buy it for me.

"Actually, I have a really good one sitting in my garage. I upgraded to a newer model - and this one needs a seat and its gears need re-stringing - but otherwise it's in great shape."

She was serious and even made it sound like I was doing her a favor by taking it out of her garage.

Yea karma. Yea good neighbors. Yea help one another out anyway we can. Yea Universe.

PS - the beauty of living on an island

Tomorrow is high tide. Tomorrow, I have the day off.

High tide picnic anyone? It's a pretty sweet view from the backshore of Gloucester!

Anniversaries

In 20 days, it will be a full year since my "episode." That's what my dad calls it. Here's what I call it: nervous breakdown.

I was dealing with an atrocious amount of pressure: 60-hour work weeks, a boss who was intruding on my personal space and time, an 11-year friend and lover who had abandoned me, and a family who didn't understand at all what I was going through. To me, not so surprising that I wound up hospitalized.

Fast forward to today. Still having insomnia. But, on the whole, happy as Larry (however happy he is) (than you Eddie Izzard). Sure, money is tight and some things are awkward with the living situation. But I'm building out a business plan, working with non-profit groups I feel strongly about and generally making friends in my community.

Plus I'm going to the gym and hopefully will soon stop having bra hangover!

All this to say, I realize how far I've come. And that's why I don't hesitate to say "breakdown." I summoned my resources, I called upon the Universe, I pulled together my person army and I did what needed to be done. I can honestly say I am proud of myself.

I have no idea why I felt the need to blog this. Maybe just to see it in writing. But I'm glad it can be out there.

That is all. :-)

It's a Brand New Day

No, I'm not quoting the Dr. Horrible song (although it IS fantastic and if you haven't seen the movie yet, what is wrong with you?). But that is truly how I'm feeling.

I spent most of last week wallowing. Work was on hold for a few days because of schedule issues and, for that reason, I seemed to hit a wall. Maybe it was because I was once again in limbo and I am sooooo not good at being in limbo. True Leo-style, I need to be in charge and on the prowl.

But this week is already so much different. The new schedule is out (although the scheduling process is already making me twitchy. People can be SO disorganized! But more on that later...). And now that I'm on the schedule, I can have a structure to my day. I know what days I have commitments and what days I don't and what I need to get down and how I should go about getting those things accomplished. Feels purdy derned good.

There's lots of progress on the other front too. Met today with a Business Strategist who specializing in advising entrepreneurs. He gave me some fantastic ideas for setting out on my research, identifying options and obstacles and concrete next steps. All at once, I feel like my dream isn't really all that far off.

So, it's strange to say that I am busier now than I was when I was "working." Perhaps because the work I'm doing now is building My Life Business. And not serving someone or something else. I have a chance to work with and for things that make me feel good - like the Farmers Market and the Time Bank, organizing my "stuff" that's been laying around in piles far too longs and FINALLY getting back in shape.

So, it's been several Brand New Days and I am confident they will keep on comin. I'm sure I have a little more wallowing in me, but I'm hopeful that those are the exception and not the rule.

TMI

Got some feedback today that my blog was a bit TMI. Have to say, sorry, but that's the deal. I don't have many forums (my journal, my blog) to be honest, so...

So, with that in mind, I post the following.

I've been worrying a lot about whether I am so smitten w/ the new guy b/c it means I don't have to be alone or b/c I really find so much connection between us.

There are a lot of things that point me to the realization that it's the good connection. We're starting to know the characters in one another's soap operas. We know some (not all!) of the trigger issues between ourselves. I know what movies he wants to see and he knows what movies I want to see. The argument will be over which we see together. (It's called compromise!)

Still, there are a lot of things we've got a massive disconnect on. He doesn't get that the standup circuit is a close-knit (if anonymous) group of personalities and we all know one anothers' stories and issues. So when I get excited talking about these people, it's like I'm talking about my friends (RIP Bob Schimmel). Mocking them very rightly ticks me off. (He's the same way w/ his music, although he doesn't see that). We have vastly different work lives and experiences. And, we're totally Jupiter/Mars (except I seem to be from Mars whereas he's Jupiter, but that's another story for another time...)

Yet, I desperately want to transcend these issues. Because I love him. Purely and honestly. He's good and decent and honest and direct. Not to mention intellectually stimulating and not so much bad with the physical stuff.

So I hope and wish and pray that we'll overcome these other little things.

This all was massively reinforced by tonight's episode of "Louie" on FX. The replay isn't up yet, but you'll be able to find it here. It's a beautiful portrait of what it sometimes means to be single, and alone.

Who'da Thunk?

So, yet another fantastic evening with LRman. Our "fantastic" evenings are really nothing too special: sometimes live music, sometimes TV watching, sometimes just hanging out and talking. And yet they are so very special.

Who would have thought I would have found so much love in someone 17 years my senior, salt and pepper hair, a bit of a beer belly and paint caked under his nails? And yet I have.

He is fascinating. He's seen things and done things I can only marvel at. I have never been almost killed at a protest for desegregation. I never hitchhiked up and down the east coast. I haven't raised a fabulous daughter nor do I have Mein Kampf and the Kama Sutra on the same shelf in my bookcase.

I admitted today that I orignally worried that he might have thought of me as arm candy. (Of course, now that I know him so much better I realize that that is not at all something he would do.) I opened up about my marriage and the insecurities I felt before, during and after.

It didn't turn into a massive thing. I just shared my story and then he shared one about his brother - who suffers from the same syndrome as my ex. And then we shut up and watched Rescue Me.

As he was leaving for home, I kissed him goodnight and he said his usual "call ya tomorrow." And then, he grabbed me in a huge hug and whispered in my ear, "don't fret, hon." And, as per usual, he broke into a silly song, "It ain't nothin to fret about, worry about. It all gonna be okay."

I don't know the song or artist. I don't really care. Without making a deal out of it, he told me he heard me, he understood me and he reassured me.

No wonder I love him.

Of Jumping, Parachutes and Trust

At the risk of TMI ... there is a man lying sound asleep in bed next to me. He's fairly passed out from a hard day's - fuck that, a hard week's, a hard life's - day of work.

He is not at all my image of the "man of my dreams." Hell, for all I ever knew, it could have always been a "woman of my dreams."

Nonetheless, he is here, beside me, paint caked fairly permanently onto his fingers, beer belly, grey hair, and absolutely, unbelievably attractive to me.

I adore him. To the point where I wrote a short story at which GoodBuddy called me out. "Wow kiddo. Borrowing pretty heavily from real world fantasies are we?" In fact, GoodBuddy and I were really honest about it. On a random night last year, when we'd actually gone out to party, we ran into (what shall we name him?) I owned up. "Um, let's dance, but let's keep it fairly clean. And make sure I come off hot. I want to impress that guy over there." No idea if GoodBuddy was offended or not, but there you have it.

Fast forward a bit. I'd put out all the signals. Let's meet for a drink, let's hang out. Nothing. Finally, I invited him out for Fiesta. And finally, a nibble. Or, more truly, a full on, hard core, smooch.

I finally got what I wanted.

And now, the wicked, stupid, eff'ing insecure demon in me is wondering if I coerced him, forced him, somehow manipulated him into my bed. And if he would be here if it where someone - nay anyone - instead.

All the indicators point to no. And, if I am to be honest, he's wicked smart and wise enough to stand on his own and own up if this were a fly by night thing.

So why, oh why, do I continue to doubt myself?

Years and years of therapy and it still all comes down to this. Am I lovable?

But writing this out, I realize yes. I am. And yes, if he doesn't already, we're moving in that direction. Not because I made him. But because we are. We do. We will.

Smitten

Life has a really funny way of working out...

Last summer, I volunteered at the Cape Ann Farmers' Market. It was more than slightly a selfish move, although I love me some Local Food Movement. I've wanted for a long time to dig in deeper with the local community. Dig some roots. Find me some solid ground.

Whilst chipping in at the market, I came to know me a fella who shall be known as LRMan. (whether you think of this as LeatheRMan or LadderRackMan - entirely up to you.) He's not my "usual" type, but nonetheless, smart, funny, and on totally the same wavelength as yours truly.

I spent about nine months trying to clue him into the fact that I was mackin on him.

Maybe it's because he's a tad older than me. Maybe it's because he's male and - by default - numb to those things. (awww - seriously? c'mon - it's true!) Maybe it's a million different things.

But, finally, a week and change ago, it happened. And after the kiss, I looked at him and said, "well, damn! I've been waiting nine months for that!"

In some ways, we're taking things slow. He/I won't call one another boyfriend/girlfriend. (which at 30-something and 50-something seems moot anyway...) And yet, both of us play coy about when we'll get tired of one another/throw one another to the wolves / leave one another for greener pastures.

I can only speak for myself. He makes me giggle. He makes me laugh. He makes me think. He makes me talk. He hears me, he gets me and, when I am sick, he folds my arms around my teddy bear, kisses me on the forehead, tells me he's sorry he has to go, and wishes me sweet dreams.

So, yes, I want him around. For a good, long while. Other than that, no promises made. But I'm putting it out there. Girlfriend likes her LRMan.

Zero to 60

... or actually 52. But that's an inside joke.

So, after a long, ill-hidden chase, I finally lured the prey into my enchanted web of evil... by making him believe he was chasing me. It's a twisted thing, but we women are pretty derned good at it.

The problem of course, is that I've known for a long time that we would fit well together. And for his part, I think he does really like me and is enjoying the "courtship" stage.

That being said, this thing is moving fast. And that's where my insecurity comes in.

My M.O. is to get all caught up in the "gooey" phase and call it love waaaaay before it deserves the title. Then, by the time I realize it, it's three weeks late and a hundred short.

So, I'm trying to keep a handle on this one. But it's really hard. It's summer, the only AC in the apt is in my bedroom, and my roommate has practically moved into his girlfriend's house. So, how on Earth should we spend the evening...?

Just try telling a Leo to take it slow...

Knot Tying Demonstration And Class With Gardy Winchester Video

This post practically wrote itself:

"Little brown eel comes out of the cave... Swims into the hole... Comes out of the hole... Goes back into the cave again... It's not too good is it Chief?"

What are you, Captain Knots? Capt. Tying Knots? Anyone needs a knot tied they go to you."

PS - this awesome guy saved my computer from death. Weird weird world....

PSS - Props to Capt Joey for recording and posting this.

TMI

I went for an early morning bike ride this a.m.

Because I was not thinking clearly whilst purchasing my new bike, I forgot to add in a bottle clip. So drinkage is difficult while cycling.

Ergo, I usually stop at the Rockport General Store and down a Gatorade before tackling the second half of my route.

Today, an old salty seadog followed me right into the store. Feeling rather spritely, I noted that "it's way too hot to be wearing coveralls."

He grinned at me - several teeth missing - and gave me a wink. "You'd be surprised. They let the air ... circulate."

OK - I know I invited that one. But really? Ew!

Miles and miles

I honestly didn't know the novel Up In The Air was coming out as a George Clooney movie. I saw it in the airport the other day and had to pick it up. (I'm still avoiding reading Winter's Tale after three unsuccessful starts...) I have to say that I am really enjoying it. I find the writing crisp and intriguing. And, yes, the dialogue was pretty much written for George Clooney's wry, sarcastic persona. But, again, I didn't know that when I bought it. I jut thought it would be a fitting read given that:

I came home from NJ on Sunday.

I left on Wednesday for San Francisco

I return home late Saturday night.

Tuesday night I either train or plane down to New York.

Wednesday night or Thursday morning, I fly to Chicago.

Thursday night or Friday morning I return home.

I'm home from Thursday/Friday through until the following Monday!

Monday the 21st head to NJ for the whole week.

I return home December 26th.

January 4th I fly to Dallas, TX.

January 7th I fly to Minneapolis.

January 9th I return home.

January 30th I fly to London.

February 4th I fly home.

I'm not sure what happens then. We haven't planned it out that far. Haven't exactly had time.

So much for setting down roots.

Conflagration of Expectations

I've been pretty bad about posting, but I blame that on the 12 hour work days I've been pulling. Less then one month until product launch and we're still trying to get our ducks in a row. A bit crazy, methinks...

There's a lot of venting and grief that can and probably should happen around the job, CBL and the workload. But I won't go into that right now. Primarily because I worked solid through until 8 pm tonight. Instead, I will dwell on the debaucle that is the Love Live. Or lack thereof...

So, I've mentioned that there might be a New Guy. Let's call him NewYorkBoy. Safe Enough. He's great. He's smart. He's funny. He's informed. He's passionate. He's also got about 20 different Red Alarms flashing above his head....

Here's the deal: We meet. We hang out and things go farther than should have, as I was in a "compromised" situation. We have dinner. I take him out for his birthday. deny him "a present" and he wigs out. Cut to a week later where he's moaning about being in a "bad mood" for a full week and how he doesn't know what's going on his future....

I was feeling really hopeful about this but, frankly, I just don't think I have the energy to deal with this level of insecurty or low self-esteem. I know that sounds terrible, but it's a reality. I'm having enough fun getting my own shit together. I mean, I'm finally able to laugh at CBL and the shit she throws at me. (SERIOUSLY - if I was a VP, I would be ashamed at the number of emails she sends me asking "can you fill em in on this...?") But that doesn't mean I'm ready to take on yet another head case. So, I'll have to have a think about this deal. Do I want to pursue this friendship and/or relationhip? Or do I want to nip this in the bud and lose the possibility of a rewarding friendship? I just don't know....

Have to sleep on it.

Staycation

The term staycation means a little bit more to me...

I've been travelling so much this past year - officially a full year on 29 July - that having a week to not leave my island is heaven. In fact, the only reason I'm not currently dipping my toes in the sand is because the polish on them is currently drying. Green, in case you're wondering.

I am really going to challenge myself to not check the blackberry or stress out at all during the week. Yes, there are a few work projects I actually need to do. File expenses for one - which is partly about meeting month-end deadlines and partly about recouping the hundreds of dollars I front for good ole jobby job. But I really - really - am going to do my best not to get wrapped up in CBL's anxiety.

Because, while I was hanging out with wonderful friend YogaGirl this weekend, she said something so brilliant, so insightful - SO FRIGGIN SIMPLE - it stunned me. I made the mistake of checking the BB on Saturday night at 11 pm. Right before bed. And saw a bunch of emails that started, "I know you're on vacation, but..." And I cried. And YogaGirl's advice? "It's not your job to fix her. If she's stressing out on a Saturday night, that's her. It's not you. You're not her mom or her therapist or her boss or even her friend. Put the blackberry down and go to bed."

She's right.

So, this week, my job is to relax, make a permanent me-shaped dent in the sand, do some yoga, watch some waves, and just enjoy.

I'll post about the exhaustive weekend with amazing YogaGirl and son later. Stay tuned for pearls of wisdom from a six-year old.

Things I Saw/Realized on my BIke Ride This Morning

Squirrel.
A Doe (a deer, a female deer).
A robin redbreast.
There are more old people than young people out in the morning. And they smile more.
Two lobster boats passing each other off Bearskin Neck.
Seeing the sun glisten on the still water is worth almost missing your train to work.
Gatorade is far too tamper-proof.
Having your chain seize in the middle of an uphill, major intersection is bad news.
Having a cop car parked there, trying to rescue a "damsel in distress" is worth countless bike mechanics classes.
Cars drive faster the later in the morning it gets.
Enjoy the sunshine because the thunderstorms roll in faster than a girl on a 12-speed.

Local Food

It's been rainy and dreary for so many days now. I long for the afternoon I can sit on my porch and let the sun heat my skin while I sip tea and read a book.

But there is something to be said for the grey, cool days when you find yourself inside a cozy, warm restaurant. Lobsta Land has to have one of the better views of restaurants in this city, especially when the places on the Neck aren't yet open. They don't have too much to offer the veg-heads of this world, but their open-faced portobello sammich is a real gem. Look how beautiful that presentation is. Yum yum yum in my tum.

Anonymity and Personality

Tonight, I went to a meeting for fellow CapeAnn Bloggers. It was begun by Capt. Joe and seems to be a great way for fellow writers and artists to reach out and meet one another. What struck me most about tonight's event is how, despite my amazing and seemingly innate love for this place, I do not truly belong here nor will I will for what I am sure is a long time. Gloucester has a long and deep history that is way beyond how gorgeous the sunrise looks from the backshore or the current political landscape. The town's history runs through bloods and bones, through stories and generations.

That being said, I had a really great time. I am sure I drank too much at the Cape Ann Brew Pub but the beer was very, very yummy. And it was great to chat with others who are involved with writing and the arts and exchanging thoughts and idea.

At one point, someone asked me, "If you're not creating, do you feel like you're dying?"

WOW.

Yeah. I mean, yes. Yes, I do. Of course I do.

The thing is, sometimes, I'm too tired to realize that. Sometimes I am too focused on shipping boxes or faxing forms or filling out budget accruals to realize that I want/need/have to be creative. In some way shape or form.

What I guess I'm thankful for, is that there are others out there who share that need. That passion. Because when you're not being creative - and you feel that closeness to souldeath - you can feel like you're going insane.

But you're not. You're just drying up. Dessication.

I am glad I skipped the gym. I am glad I slathered on the makeup. I am glad Capt. Joey started the group. I'm glad I moved to Gloucester.

When the alarm goes off in exactly four hours, I might rethink all of this. But for now.

Tomorrow, folks, I promise, a more entertaining, amusing post. Or, back to the regularly scheduled programming. Cross my heart.

Interesting to Think About

I've been thinking a lot about people and persons and my relations to them.

It's come to my attention that I do not have a very large group of friends. And I have a significantly smaller group of local friends. I'd like that this weren't true, but alas...

It's hard to meet people in your hometown when you're travelling a lot, working crazy hours out of town and so exhausted when you're actually home that all you can do is hit Blockbuster and pass out. Even harder when you're spending most of your free time either physically or mentally taking care of your family - especially your father - who all reside in NJ.

Still...

I say that I enjoy people. I will talk to any random person in the supermarket, in the parking lot, on the subway. I enjoy these brief interactions and generally walk away feeling good. What I can't do? Talk to the cute boy at my gym who several times has tried to chat me up. Come off confident and nonchalant while talking to people I might actually think I'd be friends with. Enjoy people in large groups. Like the damn Celtics fans invading North Station these days... Ugh. This is a very strange conundrum.

I know that I won't make any friends watching On Demand movies in my apartment. But right now that's really all I'm capable of. It's totally sad, but it's true.

You Might Be White Trash If...

I love my home. I have a huge backyard, I'm one mile from a beach in either direction. I have lots of room to "play" and a gourmet kitchen. So, yea, there ain't a whole lot to complain about here.

Of course, it is a White Trash Hood.

I don't actually live on a road. It's more like a cul de sac where the road is a giant, gravel parking lot. None of the houses have a front yard. And at any given time there are no fewer than two cars on concrete blocks, in the process of being repaired.

Oh, did I mention, I live next door to a gas station/convenience store?

(Non-sequitor. Recently, when I cajoled GoodBuddy, who was whining about running out of beer. "Quitcherbitchin. I live next to a Packie." At which, he began laughing hysterically. "That's my little optimistic flower. You don't live next to a gas station. You live next to a Packie. Glass half full!")

But yesterday, I witnessed the pinnacle, the epitome, the piece de la resistance of white trashiness.

Within the foot of snow that blanketed Gloucester, not only was our parking lot/street completely plowed. There was a path snow blown between us and the Packie. Because, God Forbid!, we walk the 10 extra feet to the end of the road to reach the store. No way. We gotta cut across the garden separating the two properties. Our beer could get warm if we took the long way around!