Asking Price

And just as quickly as the "yes" happened.........dead air.

Disappointed? Sure. Even remotely afraid to ask again? Hell no.

If I'm lucky, I'm somewhere near the middle of my lifetime. While I do my best to leave regrets at the side of the road, I occasionally find myself sad that I spent so many of the last 43 years idly watching the world pass me by. Luckily, I see this as a call to action rather than a reason to degrade myself. And I only have 43 or so years to make up for lost time.

So I'll remember the euphoria following yesterday's affirmation and take to heart the quiet that followed. I will ignore the voice who reminds me that I didn't really get what I wanted. Instead, I will politely request what I want. Again. And Again. And again.

Because you don't get 100% of what you don't ask for.

Something Ventured, Something Gained

Today I saw something that I wanted, so I asked for it.

The answer: yes.

I think I'll try that again.

Rock Paper Scissors

MJ McClendon was the most influential instructor of my entire education. Between kindergarten and grad school, she stands out as the teacher who made the greatest difference in my life. In one sentence -- one single comment on an essay in English 101 -- she forced me to rethink my belief system from the bottom up.

As I recall, I had written a paper explaining why the death penalty was a great idea. I was able to positively defend my reasoning because Jesus had said, "an eye for an eye." (Yes, I quoted Jesus in an argument in a college assignment.) She circled that statement and wrote, "Check your source." That's it. That is the sentence that changed my life.

Luckily, I brought no fewer than three bibles with me to college, so upon my return to my apartment, I checked the reference edition of the New International Version only to discover that the eye for an eye stuff came from the Old Testament, and Christ didn't say a word until its sequel. And then I began to recall some of the lessons from Sunday school that taught me the purpose of Jesus' arrival on this planet was to dispense of the laws of the past, and that we now could be absolved of our sins through our Lord and Savior blah blah blah. This discovery completely rocked my world. The fire and brimstone message I'd listened to and believed for all of those years was in direct conflict with the words in black and white on the bible that had been waved around as the one and only manual for living a good and pure life.

I looked at what I'd written and began literally cutting the page apart. Sentence by sentence, I rearranged pieces of paper across the floor while my world view shifted. I had to choose, before 3:30 pm the following day, whether I was an Old Testament follower or a New Testament Christian. It would have been easier to correctly attribute the eye for an eye jazz to whomever said it and let the first argument stand. But I couldn't. I salvaged what made sense and disposed of what didn't. And I began scribbling new notes, new reasoning, and the new rock upon which my new belief system would be built. Even 25 years later, my Facebook profile lists my religious view as "Some Benign Brand of Love Thy Neighbor Spirituality," which was borne of that revised essay.

Over the years I've disposed of all the Jesus stuff and have only kept the love and forgiveness and good will toward men (wink wink) parts of my upbringing. I believe in science. I feel we're at our best when we're good to one another. And I'm pretty sure that when we die, we die, so we'd best make a positive difference in the short time we're here.

I would like to think that I would have shed those stodgy (and often dangerous) principles sooner or later in life, but I love that this is how it happened. I so vividly remember perusing the good book to prove myself right, only to be stunned by the truth. I pieced together my new mindset from a puzzle of paper strips strewn about my living room.

Words hold so much power. I dealt with my divorce through writing way back when and it helped me grow in ways I cannot explain. And here I am again, looking to learn from myself and my words. It wasn't until I penned the About Me section today that I realized I'm on a quest to be just uncomfortable enough to become a better me. When I read what I'd written, I hesitated for a moment and almost deleted it, but I couldn't. Perhaps it's time for me to get the paper and scissors out again to figure out where I'm going this time.

Truly, Madly, Deeply

I am utterly smitten.  Unable to concentrate, I want to drown myself in this new love. Since meeting, I can think of nothing else. I envision decades of bliss after only two hours together.

Trail running, where have you been all my life?

I've been complaining for some time that running has lost its glimmer for me. While my last marathon resulted in a PR, I felt confused for most of the race. Seriously...as the crowd of runners crossed the starting line, I looked around and thought, "What the hell am I doing here?" I cried on and off for four-plus hours (for several long-winded reasons). And when I finished, I was just as befuddled as when I began. And I have hardly run since -- three, maybe four eight-milers, and short jogs here and there to make sure my legs still work.

Granted, training season for the last race coincided with a dissolving relationship and a stressful internship. And since the new year, I've spent most of my allotted fitness minutes at a fantastic cross training facility. But running kept calling to me. It was a key piece to my recovery from divorce, and a significant player in the most important romance of my life. I couldn't just let it slip away, could I?

After repeated recruiting attempts, an ultrarunner friend coerced me to give running another try, but from a new angle.  I've argued against hitting the trails because I would have to drive so I could run (then drive back home, of course). The gas guzzling minivan is a thing of the past and I'm now a hybrid owner, so I'm far better able to justify the fuel expense now (and I adore driving the new wheels). This morning I found my way to our meeting point along with four more of her trail minions and we headed out for my inaugural rocky run.

And just like that, she drew me into her seedy underworld. It was absolutely magical. Stones and sticks and dirt and trees and hills and obstacles were there for the tripping and falling (an important milestone, I was told. Check.). The time and the miles flew by despite the necessity of a slower pace. Zigzagging my way through nature, I never found myself winded, nor did I consider turning toward home prematurely (like I so often do on the streets). Since the minute I stopped running, I've obsessed about when I will find my way out there again, speculating how far my legs will take me next time.

It seems like it's been ages since I've locked into a new fitness obsession...like, maybe since January when I got hooked on EnduraCamps (hmmmm, perhaps I fall more easily than I realized). But this time it feels different. I think I could build something worthwhile, something that has meaning, something to latch onto for a good long while.

This could well be the perfect partnership for me right now. The trails will give me fresh air and a fresh perspective on life, love, and the great outdoors. And I will offer my sweat and an occasional chunk of flesh in return. I'm happy to take scrapes and bruises over chocolates and roses. Talk about falling head over heels...

Flirting With Disaster

It's no secret. I'm a flirt. You can see it in photos at the age of three, thirteen, twenty-three...the cocked head, the sparkly eyes...eagerly awaiting validation for some shallow physical trait. It's deeply embedded in who I am. Unfortunately, I didn't get an owner's manual for the effective management of this characteristic and have spent most of the last 43 years with the switch locked on, rarely easing back, even in situations where it is clearly contraindicated.

I realized while at work a few days ago that I really need to find a way to shut it off. There are octogenarians following me down the hallways and complimenting my wardrobe choices and making requests for snug sweaters on my next visit. Male nurses are begging me to become their personal trainers. And I feel giddy when the handsome cook shyly helps me find my way around the kitchen. Nothing good can come from teasing any of these fellas, yet the compliments and smiles they pay me keep my flirt in overdrive, leading them on, coercing more kind words and sly looks.

Work isn't the only place where I don't know how to shut off my misleading ways. I recently did a short stint on Match.com (two...maybe three weeks is all I can tolerate). I take a decent photo and I write a pretty good profile, so I caught the eye of a few gents. I only accepted a few dates, and knew within minutes of meeting these men that I had no interest in pursuing something deeper. Yet I chatted, I flipped my hair, I told my story, and I hugged them goodbye, with a promise of, "yes, I'd like to see you again."

The current quiet in my life (that is so rudely interrupted with work and workouts and children and dinner and insomnia) should be a great time to explore why I am who I am. I'm sure I'll find a thousand things to do and think about so I don't have to tackle such a sticky subject. And even if I figure out the why of who I am (I've been blaming it on middle child syndrome for most of this lifetime), I then need to decide if that's such a bad thing. And if it isn't such a bad thing, how do I merely temper the tease?

Most importantly, even if I don't do any soul searching, I must learn to tell an unwanted suitor "No." One syllable. Two letters. Should be easy, right? Ye....ahhh...ummmm.....well....actually...

No.

Note to My Future Self

Remember the smile you had on your face this morning as you rushed out the door with your briefcase and your lunch and your coffee cup. Think about the joy you felt as you started your car and headed toward work. This feeling won't last forever, but take to heart all of the hard work, energy, tears and frustrations that led you to this place. Sign your name with pride, J. You have come so very far.

Enjoy the glow, but you mustn't stop moving forward, Dear. You are at your best during a struggle. You shine through challenges. And your ass looks great as you hurdle those obstacles.

Mixed Messages

There aren't many things I like about being single. After a couple of months sans partner, I've realized I don't rock the kitchen like I used to, my goal setting skills have tanked, and I drink too much. One thing that I do dig more now that I'm unattached is flirting. Now, I have always enjoyed engaging with the opposite sex. I'm sure the boys from my third grade class would concur, as would the handsome neighbor across the street, as would any bartender, server, clerk, or handyman who has crossed my path. And I was never asked to stifle my teasing while I was attached.  But as a loner, I've taken my game up a notch. Or two...

I'm not looking for trouble here, but I'd be a big ol' liar if I said I didn't love attention from the fellas. Some might even say I seek it out in less-than-positive ways. So when a friend's husband messaged me [half-drunk and on a business trip] with praise about my physical appearance in a Facebook photo, I didn't stop him in his tracks and ask how his wife was. I batted the compliment around a bit, engaged and teased, and crossed a virtual line that probably shouldn't have been crossed. And only then did I check in on how my married friend was doing.

(This post has almost nothing to do with flirting, by the way.)

This gent and I have continued to message one another. Most of what we chat about is mundane -- parenting, relationships both current and past, laundry and pets and coffee and weather, and politics and religion. We've touched on some subjects that are very timely in my current journey, and what I find coming out of my fingertips often directly conflicts with my emotions.

Let's look at a discussion we had about marriage, for instance. Marriage is hard -- only newlyweds and lying liars will tell you otherwise. I am very good in [the right] relationship -- I am no good in [the wrong] marriage. But how can one keep the lovely parts of a relationship lovely once you commit to a lifetime...a lifetime, I say...of togetherness? An example of the things I'll type that are true and wise (to me), but directly conflict with my emotional self: "We tell people that they shouldn't go into business with their friends, yet that's exactly what marriage is. You're combining resources, relying on each other, and trying to continue loving each other like the night you first fucked. Not possible." I think I've expressed more than once that I don't think a lot of marriage. Historically it was linked to politics and religion and money. I'm uncertain of when love came into play, but I'm not sure those four subjects make good bedfellows. Yet marrying for only love and not taking money and politics (and religion, if you play that game) is pretty ridiculous too. The societal expectation of reproduction that is attached to matrimony is doing us no favors, and for so many, the financial implications of making people without having a pretty good monetary baseline is a recipe for disaster. And once those finances fall apart, it's hard to see why it was you loved that partner in the first place.

Once more, I'm not dying to walk down the aisle again, but I definitely have toyed with the idea of a solid future with a special someone. I have no desire to grow old alone and I am undoubtedly a relationship person. I love to give of myself and my time. I adore preparing a meal for an appreciative palate. I crave human touch. But is a real partnership possible without tangling the love with the business? I don't think so. Can you keep them in separate rooms? And at what point does the union become a corporation?

As a forty-something, I'm wise enough to look at more than just the great sex and weekend getaways when it comes to building a lifetime with another. At the same time, I mostly want to ignore the hard stuff and snuggle up under a blanket for the next thirty years. Looking at the logistics of a decision before diving in is so. not. me.

See, I told you this post wasn't about flirting.

So I will continue bantering with my friend's husband. I'm sure we will occasionally push the boundaries of appropriate platonic conversation, but I'm much more interested in him for his brain, and the fresh perspective this new confidant brings to my tired life.

Like Riding a Bike?

I sure hope so. It's been almost two years since I've blogged and I don't know if I can hold to my old standard of reasonably proper grammar and charming wit -- at least until I get rolling again.

So much has happened since I abandoned my Mountain of Laundry. The job that was eating at my soul ended -- abruptly -- when they eliminated my position. "Restructuring" they called it. Being laid off during a prolonged recession is what I called it. It's a classy organization "founded on Christian principles" that releases its single mom staffers in December (or any time for that matter). But I turned that downpour into a pretty darn nice bed of flowers.

I used that stint of unemployment for my greater good. Through hard work and a touch of serendipity, I managed to earn a spot in Iowa State's dietetic internship program in June of '13. Five months later I passed a big expensive test and am now a registered dietitian. I'm really, really proud of myself for finishing what I started way back in 2009. It took another couple of months to land a job, but I now sign my name followed by RD LD/N numerous times a day. And I love it. Every time.

My long term relationship ended. Three and a half years of near-magic began to unravel about the time I began the internship and we called it quits shortly into the new year. It had been quite a ride and we tried too hard (or at least too long) to stay together, but at the end of it all, he was tired of making me sad and I was tired of being sad. We are communicating as friends right now (with occasional benefits). It's impossible to know where this journey will end. Our friendship is one of the most precious somethings I've known. I can't imagine losing that.

Other biggies...I did a triathlon and another marathon. I bought a new [to me] car. The kids are 12, 14, & 18. I got a tattoo.

I am sad that I don't have the challenges and championships of the last two years chronicled, but I continue to learn that it's never too late to remedy the mistakes of the past, so I'll just start from here and we'll see where this goes. I will be more honest and open than before. No more editing myself just in case my mom is reading.

Be well...