Hey, Hey, What Can I Say?

I admit it.  I miss so many things about my former life.  No, not the drama and  the targeted abuse.  But I dearly miss my garden.  I had a fairly well established garden that was pretty "edible landscaped" inspired.  By the time I left there, I was well on my way to a decent asparagus patch, a prolific blueberry garden and all  the bees, birds and butterflies that wanted to hang out were welcome.

I suppose I should be happy that my ex's girlfriend is a gardener.  No, I don't suppose.  I am actually quite happy about that.  For how destructive he was (burn, baby, burn) I am glad he at least picked a woman who can carry on with what I started.  And run with it.  Lord knows, she needs all the distractions she can get.  By all accounts, she seems to understand what I started.

The flower shop job satisfies a bit of that.  Going to my friend's farm will hopefully do a better job at that this year.  Either way, it will never be the same.  It just won't.  I'm going to have to find a new way to satisfy that part of me.

Noisy

I've discovered something pretty darn wild.

Back when I lived in the woods, early on, I spent so much time paying attention to the sounds of the wild.  I remember soon after I moved in there, I almost called 911 after hearing what I thought was a woman being assaulted deep in the woods.  Once I paid attention, I realized it wasn't human at all and it and was moving at such a fast rate along the creek that it had to be some sort of mating call/ritual.  I'm thinking bobcat/fox.  I never did figure it out exactly.

The funny thing is, I didn't realize how much I really did not hear actual human voices there until I moved back in to town.  When I lived in the woods, I heard birds in unison. In town, I hear them one by one.  (Which helps me when I lie in bed on weekend mornings, identifying them by their unique voices.)  Same goes for squirrels.  I'm not quite at the point of naming the critters but when I do, they will have names like "Yappy", "Squeaky" and "Get off my porch ".

I told you about the bat in my house right?  I can't remember...but in 11 years in the woods, I never had a bat in the house.  In the city?  Yup.  That was a wild night.

So, back to voices.  I think the hardest part about moving back in to the city was getting used to the voices of people.  Just the ordinary conversations.  People walking by, talking.  The mrrmmmrrrmmmrr through the walls of the row houses.  The laughter, the screaming, the day-to-day unrelenting chatter.  And I thought I was going to lose my mind, just a little bit.

When Emily was living with me, she named the neighbors (Smoking Guy, Lady with 7 kids from 4 different fathers, Naked guy with open curtains, Grandma on the porch all day...) and I was fascinated by her insight because I was trying to tune them all out.  They were all Noisy Neighbors and I heard them all in unison.  Now I am learning to hear them one by one.

But something else...I've also learned to not hear them.  Today, my neighbor was out screaming his head off at another neighbor and I think it had been going on for about 5 minutes before the message got to my brain that there was a commotion and maybe I should pay attention.  It was sort of entertaining in a way.

A week ago I texted my daughter that she moved out and is missing all the excitement up here on the North end of town.  Firetrucks, ambulances, police cars, and she said "go out and see what is going on" and I was all "eh, I'm taking a shower but I hear some guy out there screaming about how much it hurts"  and she was all "Go investigate!" and I said, "nah, I'm naked and getting in the shower"  and then she said "perfect, you can cause another accident!"

She has my sense of humor...

(As it turns out, some 20 year old woman got in a fight with her baby daddy and when he got out of the car, she sped up, jumped the curb and hit him with her car then sped off.)

I didn't think I could get used to all the human voices when I first moved in here.  Turns out I can...and then some.

(His injuries don't appear to be life-threatening.)

Doppelganger

The other night, my daughter and I went to a bar that I never go to...it's been open for about a year and I think I have been there about 3 times.  Ever since she has moved out, she's been trying to decide what her new local bar will be.  (Seriously, she moved about 10 blocks south of here.  Pretty much all of downtown Frederick is your local bar but I'll play along.)   We hadn't been there for a minute and a half but, while I was talking to a friend of mine, I realized the bartender was, sort of, talking to me only he was calling me "Barbette".  Which, of course I don't answer to Barbette.  But I wanted a beer so I'm inclined to notice when the bartender is nearby and as soon as I turned my head to give him my order, I could see the disappointment that I was not, in fact, Barbette.  And then he told me how I was not Barbette (as if I may not know that) and then decided to get on with his job of gettin' me that beer.

About 45 minutes later, I'm walking back from the bathroom and a woman at the bar yells at me, "Hey Barbette!  Hi!"  And then when I look right at her she says (you guessed it) "Oh, you're not Barbette, but wow!  You look so much like her!"  And all I can think is damn, what sort of mom names a kid Barbette? And also?  Now, I have to see this woman who two separate people mistook me for in one hour long period in a bar in Downtown Frederick Maryland.

I have to now wonder about an incident that happened the previous weekend (the same day Red Beard thought I was pregnant).  I went to the flower shop where I work.  It was a Sunday and my friend Lisa was working the boutique side (the flower shop is not open on Sundays) and I knew she would be bored.  Plus I needed her to tell me I did not, in fact look pregnant.  Anyways, she had a spurt of customer activity so I hung out in case she needed me or needed to use the bathroom or what have you and this one woman came in and sort of started a conversation with me only it was kind of like a fishing expedition.  She finally said, "I know I know you from somewhere..." and then rattled off all the improbable ways she could know me.  Me: No, I am not in a band, No, I don't go to Hagerstown to watch bands.  No, I'm pretty sure that I was not involved in that...

And then she said, "I know we will see each other again someday".

That crazy Barbette.  I hope she is some smokin' hot 30 year-old babe that people keep calling "Liz".  But wouldn't that mess up her day if we ever meet and she finds out Liz is a 50 year-old mother of two?  Yeah, not likely, but this is my blog so I get to make up that ending.

So, here we go

Today, in the span of about 2 minutes I went from way up here to way down there.  That's a bit of an exaggeration and so you are warned.  It was a beautiful day today and I guilt-ed myself in to getting up and at 'em because all I did yesterday was lie around bra-less in sweat pants, watching sappy movies on the Hallmark Channel.  Prior to yesterday, I didn't know the Hallmark Channel existed.  But I was in that sort of mood.  Actually, I did go for an appointment at 9AM and then got a pedicure so it wasn't all a lost cause and okay, yeah...I was hungover and so the Hallmark Channel was the result of the remote being wayyy over there and I'd already taken my bra off and the blanket...the COUCH blanket was somehow positioned just so and, well, I'm sure you get the idea.

So, today.  I got up, all fresh from all the rest I got and realized I could not waste another day, another nice early March spring tease of a day, bra-less in my sweat pants on the couch.  I even decided to shave a few things.

I got out my old skinny jeans, a black t-shirt with sparkles on it (I am not a sparkles-type girl..this was a donated item), a black sweater and some super cool boots I own (read:comfortable, but also cute) and set out to do a few things but not a whole lot of anything.  I got about three blocks in and a dude did the 'ole, hey...you look good...

I did what any normal 50-year old would do which is to first check...are you talking to me??  Then the hahaha, of course you were, I do look good. And hey, thanks!  Swagger, swagger.

You know none of that happened, right?  Except the hey, you look good and the thanks.

A block and a half later, I saw one of Frederick's homeless, Red Beard and asked him about his health and made sure his cane was near-by and as I turned to continue on down the street he shouted at me "hey!  Your're pregnant??!!"

I am throwing away the black sweater.

Updating

So...where was I?  I removed the last post I wrote because it was such a downer.  Sure, I have downer moments but I don't want to give the impression that my life is in any way reflected in a negative way.  Every day can be whatever I want it to be.  That in itself can be a bit daunting, or at least it was when I started this whole process but I have mellowed and am now very comfortable with the new, day-to-dayness my life has become.

It's hard for me to believe that I have lived in my new rental house for over 20 months now.  There is something so carefree in it.  I take care of the basic needs the house has but when I have any problems, I call my most excellent landlord and dump the mess in his lap. I'm pretty sure I never wrote about how, when Hurricane Sandy swept through the area, my whole ceiling over my staircase caved in, after hours of me using every bucket and bowl to collect the water from the many leaks (and keeping my landlord up to date at the same time).  Quick tip that I learned from necessity: if you are ever faced with a leak that requires several buckets at once, to avoid going ape-shit insane from the variety and randomness of the drip...Drip...DRIP...drip..dripdrip...(arggghhhhh!), tear up an old sheet or towel and put a piece in the bottom of the bucket to muffle the sound.  It helped me to get a bit of sleep before the whole thing caved in.  That was a fun night.

The next morning though, my landlord was here with a shop-vac and a roofer was on the way.  So, that was cool.

My oldest daughter has been living with me since she has returned from the army, four years earlier than expected.  She has had a rough time of it during this transition and we have had our ups and downs as roommates but she seems to be pulling herself up and out of it and has made a new plan, one that I think will be very good for her.  She has found half a house to share and will be moving out mid-March.  I'm happy for her and will miss her.  But she'll only be about 10 blocks away so we will still be able to hang out a lot.

If you know me at all, you'll know that I have a thing for puzzles.  Always have.  Now I am beginning to understand the reasoning behind it all.  I like for the pieces to all fall in to place.  I like to restore order from chaos.  I like to see the big picture and have it make some sense.

I finally feel like I am on my way there.

Officially Official

It's done.  I went through the legal process of changing my name back to my maiden name.  On Tuesday I got my new driver's license and changed my bank account.  I'm a little overwhelmed by all the things that need changing still but I can honestly say I never wavered once I made this decision.

It's a little strange though.  This feeling of in-between-ness.  A lack of identity.  Sure, this name was mine, the one I was born with but still, I haven't had it since 1985.  I had it for less time than I had my married name.  Learning a new signature was weird.  My new-old name is harder to say than my married name.  I see it written and it's familiar enough.  My siblings and my parents all have it.

And yet, now at 50, I'm looking at my name on my new driver's license and the god-awful picture is not of me at 22, the last time I had that name on a driver's license.  It's a 50-year old woman who checks the 'yes' box that her height and weight are still the same.  I've been checking that box through several licenses so it must be true, right?  In the larger scheme of things, 10 pounds isn't really that big of a deal.

Good thing I'll have this license until 2020.  Is that a real date in time?  I never knew Maryland had licenses that lasted 7+ years but I figure when I renew on my 58th birthday in 2020, I'm pretty sure I'll still weigh the same.

I'm Ready

My Dad called me earlier in the week.  Normally most people would think that wasn't such a big deal, but when my Dad calls me, it is.  He's usually the one who asks my Mom to call me and she relays back to him whatever is my answer.  Every once in a while though, he calls me and I pay attention.  His birthday is later this month and that may be why he suddenly is emotional and all mooshy.

He told me how he thinks about me every day and that, while his mind is sharp, his body is not-so-much and that he doesn't want to "go to the great beyond worrying about me. Even though I am 50 years old, he thinks of me as his little girl".  We left it at "Dad, you can worry about me.  I can't stop you.  But please, don't fret about me.  I'm much better now than I was this time last year."

He seemed OK with that.

My Dad is the sort who shows his love with gifts and financial help.  While I was married, I can honestly say I never asked for any help at all from him but he always sort of knew when I was close to the edge of some sort of financial crisis.  Probably my ex getting laid off again was a good clue.  And my Dad never failed to offer help just when I needed it most.

He helped with the mortgage, the girls' tuition, a new van when the rear wheel drive one I was driving couldn't get up the driveway in winter.  He offered art work he tired of to fill the walls when I moved in to a place that had lots of walls and higher ceilings than I'd ever had before.

When both girls were born, he gifted them money to start a college fund and added to it every birthday and Christmas.  My oldest got to enjoy the benefits of 4 years of college at a state school and graduated with no debt.  My youngest has a father who pillaged her college account to the tune of about $25,000-$30,000 in less than 6 months and now she struggles on a day-to-day basis trying to deal with the knowledge that a) her father ruined a future that she was guaranteed at birth and b), see a.

Back in August 2011, I had the option of changing my name as a part of the divorce and in my heart, I knew I wasn't ready to make that decision.  I had had my married name longer than my maiden name and my kids had my same last name and I agonized and spoke to everyone I knew who had been through this and I ultimately decided I would keep the status quo and I could always go back and change it at some other time.

Fast forward to this past week when my lawyer forwarded to me correspondence that my ex had sent her...the most condescending load of crap I had the misfortune of reading and he closed his email with a derogatory comment about my parents,  people who had helped us in our marriage and loved him as a son for 28 years and here he had the audacity to bad mouth them all while asking me for a "favor".

And it all became clear.  The man who has stuck by me, loved me and even still to this day worries about me even though I am 50 years old has proven to me what the true character of a man is.

I'm changing my name back.