Love Story

Every girl should have at least one good love story. If you're really lucky, you'll have more than one. But you need at least one.  At least one time when you felt like the most special girl on earth. Felt it, believed it, knew it was true.

I'm one of the lucky ones.

But it's funny. Love stories, real love stories, are nothing like the Hollywood movies. They're complicated and confusing and sometimes messy. At least this one was.

He worked in the Athletic Department, next to Lingerie - which was my area. I know, what a weird combination, right?  I guess they thought men would browse wind pants while their wives tried on bras...It was always a little bit embarrassing to be laying out panties next to a rack where a bunch of guys would be shopping. I felt like we should have been tucked away in some discrete corner somewhere.

We had never spoken.  Then one day, he approached me.  He thought we lived in the same apartment complex - he was pretty sure he had seen me driving in and out. Somehow in that conversation we exchanged numbers. But not like what you would think. He had a girlfriend - the super thin, busty, very pretty brunette in Shoes. And I had a crush on a guy in Security.  Plus he was old. Well, I was 18, he was 25 so he seemed old. And he had this full beard, which made him seem even older.

I think that's why I gave him my number. There was zero attraction. It felt safe.

I don't remember the first time he called or why, but we talked about the differences in our apartments (he had a one bedroom, I had a two) and tried to figure out where the other was located.  I had a cordless phone and I walked to the park area right in the center while we were talking and then I turned around and he was there. My roommate and some of our friends were getting ready to go eat so I thought I would show him the two bedroom and that would be that. 

Except he didn't leave. He sat down on the couch, acted like he was a friend and started talking to everyone. I kept hinting around and waiting for him to feel awkward enough to leave. But nothin. Frustrated, I went to my bedroom to change.  I was thinking of what I would say to get rid of him, while secretly hoping he would be gone when I got out.

Instead, I walked out to discover someone had invited him to go eat with us! Great. Instead of hanging out with my friends, now I have to make small talk with some random guy I don't care to know.  I was put-out. So when we got to the restaurant, I purposely sat on the opposite end of the table - as far from him as possible.  I didn't invite him, I wasn't talking to him. After dinner, everyone went in different directions and since we lived in the same complex, guess who got to take him home?

We talked on the way- mostly about his girlfriend and a little about work. He was kinda weird, but nice.

I dropped him off and he asked if I wanted to see the one bedroom apartment. I didn't have anything better to do so I walked upstairs with him, stood awkwardly by the front door while he introduced his cat and was about to leave when he said really, really sternly "Don't ever do that." I was so confused until he continued on "Do you know what could've happened to you? Coming up here alone? What I could have done and no one would have even known where you were. Don't ever go to a strange guy's apartment alone. Ever."

It kinda shook me.  I hadn't really thought about anything bad happening to me. Hadn't thought about it at all. The thought he might hurt me? Never even crossed my mind. I had been out of my parents house for less than 3 months and was enjoying being "grown". It shocked me to realize how vulnerable I was, how stupid I had been.

We began chatting at work. Then chatting more and more. His girlfriend would come up occasionally and we would say hi. They got engaged about a month after we met and came by to show me the ring.  A few times the three of us tried to get together but something would come up and she would cancel - so it ended up being me and him. And we started to spend a lot of time together.  We became very close, very fast.

I'm not sure what she thought about that. I didn't have improper intentions and I would like to think she knew that. I suspect this beautiful girl with the perfect body wasn't really threatened by some short, dumpy, socially awkward girl. And she shouldn't have been.

Then, about 3 weeks after they were engaged the two of us were laying on my living room floor listening to Pink Floyd - Dark Side of the Moon. I hadn't really listened to Pink Floyd before - like really listened to it. My parents had listened when I was younger but I had really tuned it out and kinda ignored it. He was reintroducing me to it and I was thinking how beautiful this song was when I glance over and...he's crying. Crying.

I'd never really seen a guy cry before and I had no clue what was wrong or what to do. I was horrified. So I hesitantly asked what was wrong.  And he looked at me and said very slowly "I think I love you."

I felt like I had been hit over the head. What? Love me? Huh? The world felt like it was crashing in.

I don't think I said anything for at least two minutes. I was shocked. And upset. And didn't know what to think. I was sitting there with so many things running through my head. But mostly I was just sad because I knew what that meant.  Finally I said, "I can't be your friend if you have feelings for me."  and after a while he said "I know." And then we turned our conversation to ending our friendship. It sounds very strange but it gave us something to focus on, took the heaviness away.

We both had off that Friday.  Another contributing factor to our developing friendship - we happened to work almost the same exact schedule every week. So Friday we were going to spend the day hanging out and then part ways. And that's exactly what we did.

I didn't get sad until we said goodbye. I realized he had become my best friend.  It made me sad, too sad. And disgusted with myself because I realized that it meant I had feelings for him . It was so much to process - guilt, confusion, sadness.  All rolled up in a nice little jacked-up ball.

I didn't realize how much I cared about him until I lost him - it kinda caught me off guard. Two weeks passed without any contact and it seemed like those two weeks were so long. But life has a tremendous way of moving along, even when you do feel like you don't want to, and I was adjusting and feeling better.

Then a knock on my door. I opened it up and he's standing there, with this look on his face like he's scared and excited at that same time and he says "I just broke off my engagement, I want to be with you."

My heart leaped. It was such an extreme gesture, such a huge declaration of love. You're giving her up for me? But I was nervous too. So I said "I think you're just scared about getting married." and he grabbed me by the arms and said "No, I've thought about it every day. I can't marry her feeling the way I feel about you."

I know what you're thinking - it's horrible. And I can't argue with you - it was a horrible situation and a horrible thing for me to do.  But that moment was so real and so....raw that  - and it sounds so cliche but - it really was beautiful.  I just don't think you get very many moments in life that someone will really bare themselves to you - just lay themselves out like that.

You can probably guess that the ending wasn't as great as the beginning. But I'm grateful for the moment. Because I really did feel like the most special girl in the world - I believed it and knew it was true.

Hustle

Guess what I did today?

Yep! I actually, finally, really made it to the gym!

Sorta.

Come on, you didn't really think it was going to be that simple, did you? 

So I had one shot - a small window between 2-3 that I could go. I watched the clock all day, just to make sure I didn't miss it. You know how that happens, you're working on something and then you look up and it's an hour later. Or maybe that's just me.

But I was dealing with budget stuff - trying to get our fiscal year closed out and I don't have an administrative assistant soooo you can imagine how that went. How do I do this addition and subtraction thing, again?

So 2:00 comes and I stop what I'm doing. Right in the middle of it. I just stop. Which just kills me, by the way. I grab my bag, get dressed. And...where are my shoes? WHERE ARE MY SHOES?

Are you kidding me? I don't have tennis shoes? Seriously? 

So I'm beyond frustrated. Can I just get to the gym?

But I'm out of options. I'm wearing gladiator sandals, which obviously won't work. And I have nothing in the car. But damn it, I am not letting this happen. So I decide I'm going to go buy some.

I grab my wallet and head out to Dicks, which is right down the street. If I hurry, I can get in 30 minutes at the gym, maybe more if I find something super quick. Never mind that I'm wearing gym clothes. And not cute gym clothes either. No, not like those pretty girls that come straight from the gym in their coordinating outfits and cute little shorts. No, I've got on a ratty old t-shirt and leggings. Cute, real cute.

So off to the store I go! The problem is that I just returned from conference. And I fronted the money from my account.  My itty, bitty barely there account.  And I haven't gotten my reimbursement check yet so I'm pretty much broke. I call the husband as I'm driving, explain the situation and ask him to front me some money.

And he said NO!

It was actually more of a hell no.

Buy new shoes? For what? Just don't go to the gym. But I've been trying to get back on track since last week, I really need to go! Can't you just wear the shoes you have on? Nooo, you have to wear athletic shoes to the gym. It's nice outside, just walk around outside or something. 

Clearly, he didn't understand the gravity of the situation.

Now, I'm already aggravated at the situation:  my shoes are gone, they should have been in that bag and they weren't, and now I gotta run around and waste my gym time. And then he says no! Which pisses me off because 1. well, honestly, I'm a spoiled brat that doesn't like to be told no and 2. if it was me, I totally would have said yes! Of course, that's easy for me to say that since he's never had to ask...

I'm in Dick's parking lot when I realize there is no talking him into it. He's completely immune to me. But I don't want to give up...

Then it hits me. The thrift store down the street! I ran in and grabbed the first pair of tennis shoes that were my size.  Well kinda sorta close to my size. I have small feet and apparently, everyone that donates to this shop does not. So I found some that were close. Or close enough. And they're not even like real tennis shoes - I think they're more like climbing shoes or something. But they would work.

And totally judge me for getting thrift store shoes. I know, it's kinda gross. My sister gets thrift store shoes all the time. Really cute ones. But there's just something about putting my foot into a shoe where someone else's stinky, sweaty foot has been that I never really found appealing. Today, however, I didn't care.  I just tried not to think about it when I was putting them on.

So, I only get half points for the gym today.  But full points for innovation and hustle.  I'll take it!

Brokeback Momma

Annual fair weekend! 

I love the fair, everything about it - the food, the activities, the people.   This year was different because I usually go on $2 Tuesdays and I don't usually go with my husband, who hates everything about the fair. 

I can't say it was a bad experience, but it was definitely different. First, it was an entirely different crowd on a full-price day. Entirely. As far as people judging watching, that was disappointing. I didn't see one tacky shirt. Not one. And trust me,  I was looking.  But we left early so maybe I just missed that crowd. Maybe there's some unofficial rule that inappropriate shirts and neck tattoos don't make an appearance until dark. But the food made up for it - corn dog, gyro, and turkey leg!  We shared; I didn't eat all of that by myself. Although I kinda wanted to.

I could, and have, spent the entire day at the fair. At one point I was going to take the girls and meet up with the husband later but that morning some friends called and they were going too so plans changed. And even though it cut my fair time down, it was good because I really wasn't looking forward to taking them alone. Most the time I really don't mind doing things myself but the fair...not so much. 

So we left early to take our RV down to Eufaula. I'm sure our neighbors are glad that they don't have to look at that piece of junk anymore. We should have moved it down there years ago, and not just because it's an ugly eyesore. And it is ugly. It was made in the late 70's or early 80's and everything is still original - it's like someone puked brown, rust, and gold all over the place. 

We bought our land when I was pregnant with M. The plan was to build a cabin on it - someplace we could take our kids and enjoy time away. But the land was raw - no septic, no well and not even electrical lines.  This was going to be an expensive project. Which also meant, for us, a very long project.  

I suggested getting a trailer instead. Or even temporarily while we worked to get something built. That's me - instant gratification. I don't like to wait. For anything. But it didn't make sense to my husband to spend the money to buy a trailer and have it hauled out there only to eventually have to get rid of it. And that's him -  big picture, long-term. And that's important but I think sometimes you have to forego practicality for enjoyment. Life it short, you gotta make the most of it while you can. What's the point of having this land if we don't use it? It serves no purpose, there's no benefit.  

It has been used a little - my husband has boys weekend out there about twice a year. I don't really understand how, because there is nothing there. We have the dock, a gravel road, a slab and a water well. That's it - no shelter, no running water, no electric. I'm told that's part of the fun of it...although nothing about any of that sounds fun to me.

So we camped for a few days before taking the RV back for good. I like the idea of camping.  I'm just not sure how I feel about the reality. It's not that I'm too girly or anything. I do enjoy spending time outdoors, I do enjoy campfires, and I do enjoy fishing. I'll bait my own hook and everything. I'm just not so fond of the inconvenience of camping - like sleeping on a couch cushion that converts to a bed when it's over 30 years old and thinner than my fingernail.

The final resting place for "Cama"

Which, by the way, is probably not the best idea if you're having back trouble. Any recovery I've made since hurting my back is gone. I know pulled muscles take a while to heal, but it's to the point that it's hard to function - it hurts constantly. So I'm giving it until Wednesday, then I'm visiting the doctor because this pain has got to go...

Still going to try to go to the gym today. I'm sure you understand from my last few posts that declaration means nothing...but I've got it on my list and I'm gonna work extra hard to make it happen. Wish me luck, I think I may need it!

With A Little Help From My Friends

Aaaand I didn't make it - to the gym.

Somehow I thought if I just came out and confessed it right at the beginning it would make it sound not so bad.

Totally didn't work.

I know what I said yesterday...but I do have a good excuse. I really, truly do.

I saw something terrible this morning.

Panhandlers are pretty common in the downtown metro area. I don't think I've ever been down there where I haven't seen someone standing out on the corner. And it sounds horrible, but I'm skeptical.  I think for a large majority, these are people that are just working the streets. And I have trouble with someone standing on the corner and asking for money all day.  There are too many options in this world for that to be necessary.

And I don't want to sound cold-hearted, because I'm not. But the reality is that the large majority of homelessness is caused by mental illness. Mental illness to a degree that these people can no longer function in mainstream society. These are not people that usually have the clarity to find a piece of cardboard and a marker and calmly stand on a corner for 8 hours. Not to mention go through the bureaucratic process of securing a license...So I tend to think those that are on the corner are there by choice.

Okay, I know I'm making big generalizations and assumptions. But the whole point is that I'm unaffected by what I see. Unaffected and mostly unsympathetic.

 But this morning I watched a guy salvage in a gas station trash can for food. Feverishly, desperately searching for something to eat. I know he was working fast because he was trying to find something before someone came out of the store and ran him off. It was like it he was trying to so hard, he just needed to find something.

I don't think you can be human if you see something like that and you aren't impacted. It's not like someone standing on a corner asking for your money. This was someone that was really hungry. This was someone that was just trying to survive. This  was someone that was desperate. Someone that needed help.

Of course, I had no cash. Because I never have cash. And I'm not 100% sure, because I didn't ask, but I don't think he took debit cards.

But I couldn't do nothing. I couldn't ignore it. So I rolled down my window and gave him my lunch. Not that it was great, but at least it was something.

During lunch instead of going to the gym, I went and got food. And I thought about how utterly grateful and blessed I was to be able to do so.

Then I spent the rest of the day thinking of all the ways I could have still gone to the gym...thank you Guilt Complex for being an ever present force in my life.

Oh well. At the end of the day, I'm still fat and a hungry guy was fed.  Fair trade.

Service Of The Customer Kind

It's funny how quickly habits can change. They say 21 days to create a habit. They fail to tell you it takes less than 7 days to destroy it. 

I was doing so, so good about going to the gym. For months, months, I was going at least 3 days a week.  At one point every single day. And if I missed a day my gym friends would say "Hey! Missed you yesterday!"

Yes, I had gym friends.

Then. BOOM. I missed a day. Missed two days. Missed a week. And another. Until it's too many weeks for me to even count. WHY, WHY, WHY?

So I decide to start over. Like I always do. Because I think, in all things, some is better than none. One day a month isn't great but it's a whole hell of a lot better than the alternative. So I gather up my resolve and tell myself "Here I go again!" Only it's actually again, again,again...because this is only like my 147 millionth time to start over. But no worries, I'm just happy I get a chance to keep going.

So I meant to pack my gym bag for Monday.  But meant doesn't count for a lot. So I did it immediately when I got home that night. I was set and ready for today. AND I even remembered to take it with me. Score!

Then I'm working and got busy. Around 2ish I realize what time it is and decide I need to go to lunch. I've actually already eaten lunch - a peanut butter and jelly sandwich over a keyboard. Because I favor the refined dining experience. So I grab my keys and head out. Shopping. What better way to kill an hour, right?  And it isn't until I'm walking back into the building that I realize...Wait! Holy crap! I was going to go to the gym! Grrrrrr! How do I forget something like that? Because I'm out of the habit, that's why!

So my gym bag is still at the office and I've got a reminder set on my calendar. This plan is fail-proof. Tomorrow I will be at the gym.

So today was shopping.

I had to return a dress. I'm a chronic returner. Drives my husband crazy. But I like to take my time and really decide I like something. What's the point of having it if it's just going to hang in my closet? And I've noticed things always look different when I get them home. I think I just get so excited when I finally find something that fits that I decide immediately I like it, without really looking to see if I actually do. It's like beer goggles for shopping - it looks great in the store but then I sober up and wonder what the hell I was thinking.

So I buy a lot and I return a lot. This is really, really weird I know but I take pictures of me in the clothes before I decide to keep them. Just because I think it's more truthful than looking in a mirror. Especially the mirror in my bedroom. I promise you, it's a magic mirror - it automatically takes off about 10 pounds. I will never, ever get rid of that mirror. I don't care if it breaks into a million little pieces, I will glue it back together and keep using it.

So I had a dress that didn't pass the test. I kinda suspected it wouldn't. I bought it way cheap and I think I was just so enamored with the price tag that I told myself I would make it work. Like the chick you pick up just because you know she won't say no.  See, how come most guys don't like shopping? It's really not that different from bar life...

Of course, I didn't have the receipt. I mean, I have the receipt - I have a zillion receipts. Just not on me. Because I needed it and who ever has a receipt when they need it?  So I get less money back than what I paid for it. Ugh, I hate that. I mean, it wasn't a huge difference but seems like such a waste. I basically paid the store because the dress made me look like I was pregnant and had lumpy hips. 

While I was waiting in line...and it was a long line because the woman who raced ahead of me to make sure she was first, apparently had something complicated because it took three people and a lot of time to figure it out...so I'm waiting and this woman waddles up and says in a really disgusted voice "Where's customer service?" She said it like she'd been wandering for days and days. Where is this elusive Customer Services?  Will I ever reach it? Will this journey ever end? I'm trying to hang on but I. Can't. Go. Much. Further. 

And she said it to the customer service people. 

The very nice customer service lady- the one who needed to get a second and third opinion on the transaction no one could figure out - said in the nicest, most cheerful voice "Here! This is it!" and the wenchy lady very loudly snarled "Well! The sign just says Service. It doesn't say customer service."

Really?

What kind of service did you think it meant? I was so tempted to turn around and ask her. I was genuinely curious. Are there stores out there offering services I'm not aware of? Should I be concerned I'm missing out?  My whole life I've naively made the assumption that a huge, giant, nearly neon sign saying "SERVICE" meant customer services. Who knew?

And really, do you have to be one of those? One of those women who is bitchy just for the sake of being bitchy. Because it takes work, a lot of work to be bitchy like that - you really gotta try at it. And I don't know, maybe it's my perpetual laziness but that's too much work for me. I mean, sure, acting like a tyrant might have it's perks - like having the entire return line whirl around at you when you semi-scream because you're too stupid to understand a sign my 4 year old kid would get - but if I'm gonna put out the energy I need more than that. Screw that small-time return line crap. I'm saving my over-the-top-crazed-bitchiness for something big - if I'm doing it, I'm going to make a real statement.

And it fluttered through my head You're the reason I hated working retail.  But then I realized that wasn't true - I actually loved working retail. It's weird, I know, but sometimes I miss it. Mainly the part where we got the new clothes in and I would pick stuff out and buy it before it was even on the rack. I loved having first dibs. It was insane the amount of clothes I had. Obscene really.

Then the lady does a combination grunt/sigh to illustrate her impatience with having to stand in line for more than a minute. Nope you're right - you are totally the reason I hated working retail.

Invincible Me

I'm hurt.

Again.

I flew in from a conference really late and my mom was gracious enough to pick me up and take me to my husband's truck- which is not a little truck.  I picked up my bag, which was ounces shy of being 50 pounds, pulled it up to my chest and tossed it across the cab- like it wasn't more than 1/3 my body weight.  And 133-138 depending on what I've eaten,  to save you the math. I know, right?

Almost immediately it hurt.  You know how sometimes it takes a minute, kinda settles in before you feel it? And other times, like this, it's almost instant. A sting you know will be significant.

So I drove the 45 minutes to our house trying to ignore it.  That's never actually worked for me, ever, but it's always my first line of defense - pretend it doesn't hurt, maybe it really won't.

And it's funny because that's almost always how I get hurt- it's not clumsiness or carelessness- it's my belief, my false belief, that I don't have limitations. It's not that I believe I can do everything, I just don't ever believe I can't. Invincible Amber - capable of anything and everything and adored by all. And I'm always, without fail, kinda shocked when I discover it's not true.

Don't worry, it's not an indication of low self-esteem for me to realize I'm not perfect. Because I've been told multiple times the past few weeks that I "sell myself short". Sell myself short? I don't even know what that means. I mean, I know what it means but what does it mean?

I kinda wonder if that's more a reflection of how they feel about me then how I feel about myself. I picture a slick-haired car salesman in a cheap suit - Heeey kid, don't sell yourself short! *wink, wink as he pats you on the back. And then, only later, do you discover he's actually just slapped a clearance sticker on you. Right, don't sell yourself short - let me do that for you! How bout I plan to just not sell myself at all.

I was on the couch with my legs plopped over the edge (because that position hurt less than any other), reading a book when my husband came home. He immediately started kinda cleaning up. But not the kind of cleaning up where he's really cleaning up - you know, the exaggerated kind of cleaning up that is meant to illustrate that I should have cleaned up. Then I heard a few kitchen cabinets close a little too hard and he yelled out "What's for dinner?", which is code for get off your ass and make dinner.

So I peeled myself off the couch and made my way into the kitchen. Cue exasperated look at the kitchen sink. A kitchen sink full of dirty dishes. Dirty dishes that were there when I arrived home. Not one of which belonged to me or was dirtied under my direction. But never mind small details. We've got...dirty dishes! Oh, the horror!

"You've been home all day."  It wasn't a statement or a question - just kinda an accusation. Guilty, you got me, totally guilty - I have, indeed, been home all day. And all I could do was laugh - at the pure silliness of all of it.

Of course, then I pulled myself together and got to work. Because hurt or not, girls like me don't stay down too long. The Invincible Amber mantra: suck it up, roll on and always, always wear that smile.

Small Town Girl

Even though I'm highly addicted, I don't usually buy soda for the house. Which is actually pretty amazing considering how much of it I drink. I stop and get one almost every morning and then have one late afternoon. I just always feel like I need to.

And just like every good addict, I have weird quirks. I get different drinks from different stores - this 7-11 has great Diet Pepsi, this Conoco has great Diet Dr. Pepper...and if I'm drinking from a can, it needs to be Diet Coke. 

So weird.

I get my fix during the day but keep it clean at home. Occasionally I run out and get one but that's pretty rare. Don't attribute that to any kind of willpower though. Mostly it's because my laziness outweighs my addition.

But since last month,  I've the guilty pleasure of a fridge stocked with Diet Coke. So I get hooked. Now I'm used to having one in the evening too.

And then I run out.

Which for a normal person wouldn't be that big of deal . And then there's me. Who is running out at 10 at night because I just can't stand it anymore - I have GOT to have a soda. Right now! And just as I'm about to whip into the gas station, it goes dark. CLOSED!!

That's the sucky part about living in a small town - everything shuts down early.  But I wasn't going to let a little thing like closing discourage me. Nope, I just drive across the highway. To get a drink.

What is not sucky about a small town is the fact that you can open your home to the local kids.  I was making dinner when one of my nephews friends came over - he's hung out at our house quite a few times. You become pretty popular during the summer if you have a pool. And even more so if you feed them after they get done swimming.  He was selling stuff for a football fundraiser. So we gave him some money and a glass of tea and as he was leaving he yelled "Thanks Aunt Amber!". I loved that.

I always want my home to be full. Growing up, that't how it was. We always had kids over. Always. My Dad used to refer to them as "The Supper Club" because they would always show up around mealtimes. The truth is, they were there all the time. That was the place that everyone wanted to be - they all loved my parents and my parents loved having them.

And that's what I want - a pool full of kids, everyone hanging out watching a movie, and enough food for an army.  Because at the Mitchell house you will always find food, laughter and fun.