Charisma: refers to a trait found in persons whose personalities are characterized by a personal charm and magnetism (attractiveness), along with innate and powerfully sophisticated abilities of interpersonal communication and persuasion

Some people have very little. They are the ones who may blend into the background. They may be the most boring people you have ever met, the ones who rarely get the jokes, rarely have anything to add to a conversation.

Then there are people who just ooze charisma. They are the ones who walk into a room and the energy instantly changes. They are often called “the life of the party”. They are the guest speakers who begin speaking about any subject and have you hanging on their every word. You just feel compelled to look at them or listen to them.

I have such a friend.

My friend D is the type of person who is labeled “loud”, or “boisterous”.  When she enters a room, everyone knows it. She greets everyone as if they are a long lost friend. When she laughs at a joke, you know that she is enjoying it. She does everything with an obvious gusto for life.

We went out to celebrate D’s birthday on Saturday night. Skittles, her sister and I arrived at the bar first. There was a band and more than just a  few people already there. But it still wasn’t  ‘happening’.  And then, D arrived with her entourage of sister, niece and a couple of friends. As soon as she got there, the atmosphere changed. Suddenly we were all drinking, and laughing until cheeks hurt.

Into the bar, came a little girl celebrating her 21st birthday. She loudly announced this to the bar because she had obviously been celebrating before getting there. Before five minutes had passed, she was dancing with D and sharing laughs with us having been drawn into our group by D’s magnetism.

There were a few tables of men who watched our group as woman danced with woman, grinding and laughing and hugging. They watched as if waiting for us to spontaneously begin making out with each other. The little girl wasn’t the only one drawn into our group. Oh no! There was the guy who looked like Maurice Gibb who tried (badly) to sing ‘Stayin’ Alive’. There was ‘girl’s boyfriend who was getting annoyed with ‘girl’s antics. There was a group of men who were friends with Skittles. They too were drawn by D.  They danced and did shots and hugged her as if they had always known her.

And all throughout the night, as people passed our group, she was the center of attention. Every person felt compelled to talk to her, shimmy with her, smile and hug her.

What is it that makes one person more charismatic than another?  Why can’t it be bottled up and sold? The maker of such an elixir would be rich beyond imagination, I’m sure.

Do you have a friend like this?  If you do, then you are blessed. If not, find one. He or she will be the one in the center of the room dancing as if no one was looking.

~~~Happy Birthday, D. I love you and I’m glad to have you in my life.

I got an email the other night that just cracked me up. It was only seven words that touched my heart and made me laugh:

I’m learning how to email. Love Dad

How cute is that?!  The old dog is learning a new trick!

This made me so happy because with the way my mom treats me on the phone, I don’t call there anymore. She gets twice as bitchy if I try to bypass her by asking for my dad. I miss living down the street from them because I don’t see them as much as I used to. This also means that Dad doesn’t know some of the stuff going on in my life.

I emailed him back, telling him how happy and proud I was of his efforts. I also told him about some family stuff and about our visit to Shippensburg with Babygirl.  I remembered how Dad and I had debated the virtues  of the myriad colleges when I was a kid. Now I was doing the same thing. I had done my “Parent’s Brag Sheet” that day so I was also telling him about that and how proud I was of my girl.

After I hit ’send’, I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. I had a way to talk to Dad again and not only that, I was telling him more about my feelings and thoughts than I normally would in a conversation.

I can’t wait to see how our relationship will change. 

I got a phone call today. Lostmahead had heard through the grapevine that the mother of a mutual friend had finally succumbed to cancer. It had been a long fight and this friend had been busy keeping up with this and juggling her own life. Anyway, Lost wanted to know if I had heard or if I had seen an obituary in the newspaper. I hadn’t, but I thought I’d check Facebook to see if maybe she had posted anything about this.

I couldn’t find her on my ‘friend list’.  Huh. Whattaya know ’bout that? I’ve been unfriended.

Other bloggers have written about this. They have mentioned the sting of the so-called ‘bitch slap‘. It was now my turn.

This was  a girl I had been very close to in high school. She moved away and we lost touch for a bit. We ran into each other at a viewing for a friend but she showed no interest in keeping in touch. I would later learn that she had met a man that she wanted to marry and she was reinventing some of her past. This ‘new her’ didn’t include certain friends. I was one. Lostmahead and I would wonder about her for the longest time. Was she married? Her kids were getting older. What were they like now? Did she have grandkids? Was she happy?

We were incredibly happy when we were contacted through Facebook. She was there. We chatted both online and off. She wanted both Lost and I to come to her house- with our families- to have a barbecue and reconnect with each other.  Unfortunately, I had several obligations for the weeks that she had wanted to do this. I told Lost and another friend to go ahead without me. There was no reason why they should miss out.

And so they did. From what I heard, Friend  spent the time flitting about, constantly leaving her guests to check on her adult children  and their kids. They lived with her. What would happen during that barbecue that wouldn’t happen at any other time?  Anyhoo, while Lost wanted to hear about the ‘here and now’, Friend wanted to to dwell in the past.

That was weeks ago. I was somewhat glad that I had not gone. I would have been really annoyed to know that my “hostess” wasn’t very interested in spending time with the guests. I would have said something that I couldn’t take back.

And now it’s come full circle. She will step away from our friendship yet again. She will give no reason and leave this all to speculation. I sent a short note that read “Have I done something to hurt you?”  but I seriously doubt that she will respond.

What was I supposed to do? Jump at the invitation? I may have wanted to, but like I said, I had other things planned. After the many times we had tried to reach her and got no response, she wanted me to go through hoops so that she could ignore me too?  Fuck that shit.

I survived for 29 years without her in my life and I think I can survive the next 29.

I want to hear you

your bells and whistles, your flashing lights

I feel the thrill, as I win

It’s not enough…just one more dollar in the slot…then I’ll stop…

I want to feel you

touch me, taste me, fill me

I feel degraded, dirty, used

It’s not enough….I just want to feel…..to feel…

I want to taste you

your sweetness, your salt

I want to fill the hole inside of me

It’s not enough….just one more slice of cake…a small one….

I want to feel you

you’re squeezing my arm, that pinprick of pain

I feel the rush, the quickening, the sickness

It’s not enough….just one more hit…to hold me over…

I want to smell you

your barley scent, the woody tones

My hand shakes with need

It’s not enough….just one one sip….I can handle it….

It’s not enough….never enough….never enough…

Yesterday, Hubs, Babygirl and I took a road trip to Shippensburg University. It was Open House day and we went to check out the programs, the school, the dorms and most importantly to Babygirl, to see her BF and his friend.

It was going to be a long day. Shippensburg is a two and a half hour drive from us and we had to get up at an ungodly hour. I knew we were doomed when we hit the road 45 minutes later than we had planned. I made sure not to drink coffee, tea or even water, because I’d only have to stop at rest stops all along the way. I was in charge of the navigation, a job that I am very good at-just ask anyone who drives with me! Unfortunately, when I hit the turnpike, I told Hubs to take the wrong ramp. We drove for roughly 20 minutes before we could get off and turn around. Now we were an hour later. It was at that point that I realized I was getting the beginning tightness that would signal a headache. Great! We’d be at the college all day, so this wasn’t good news.

Driving and driving and more driving. At last, we got to our destination. It turned out that we missed the breakfast  and coffee. (Oh shit.   ) We had also missed the welcoming speeches. This was no big loss according to a mom I spoke to. We jumped in just in time to learn about credits, scheduling, majors and  graduation requirements. Next, we moved on to a look at the Art Department. This was extremely interesting. I think it would be a great fit for my girl. But the headache was starting to interfere with my concentration. I couldn’t imagine sticking around much longer. Maybe if I got something to eat or at least something to drink (maybe coffee!) I’d feel better.

So we went to another building where I grabbed a quick tuna on croissant and a bottle of water. I gulped down the sandwich and we made our way to the Financial Aid presentation. They told us many things that I wasn’t aware of and gave us tips to look for. Unfortunately, I was going to be sick. Hubs stayed put while Babygirl and I went to the ladies room. I used the bathroom and felt somewhat ‘lighter’ but the headache exploded-in all of its halo-inducing, light sensitive, pull-my-eyeballs-out glory.

Babygirl called BF to bring us some tylenol. The nausea grew. I thought I would pass out. Hubs met us and we found a bench outside to sit on and wait for BF. Our plan for the afternoon was supposed to be a look at BF’s dorm room, walk about the campus a bit and go out to dinner with BF and friend. Unfortunately, that was not to be. I was busy dying. The pain in my daughter’s eyes as she realized we had to leave was unbearable. I began to cry as we walked to the car. While she said a teary goodbye, I crawled into the back seat, laid down and sobbed–with frustration, with pain and heartache.

We began the trek home, but first my stomach had another idea. All of the water and tylenol came up, quickly chased with the tuna. The smell…Oh God, the smell! Thank God there was a plastic bag in the back seat for me to use. but since we were on the highway, we’d have to carry it along. I know Babygirl is sensitive to hearing or smelling “sickness” and I felt bad all over again. I found a comfortable position and fell asleep.

The car stopped and I woke up to discover that we were at a rest stop. I threw out the bag and hit the restroom. I looked into the mirror and I didn’t know the woman who looked back. My eyes were sunken in head, red-rimmed and glassy. My skin was sallow with a sheen of sweat. I looked like a junkie going through withdrawal. I rinsed off my face and went back to the car…..and sleep…..for two more hours.

The next time I woke up, we were home. I ran to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and changed into pjs. The shades were drawn and the room was cool and dark. I sank into the pillows, pulled the blanket up and went to sleep. For three hours.

It is now, the next day and I realize that it was more than just car sickness and a headache. My entire body hurts and a dull throb has settled into my joints. I am alternating sweating and freezing and my stomach still feels crappy. My hair-and skin- feel extra greasy. I plan on getting into the shower soon and just changing into other fluffy jammies. I will plant myself on the couch or in bed and just stay there.

And pray for it all to go away.

PS: BF is a standup guy. I apologized for the trip being a bust and cutting short the time that they were to spend together. He said not to worry. Next weekend, his brother will drive up there on Friday and bring his brother home for the weekend. Babygirl will get to visit with her man and I will pay for them to enjoy dinner.

It’s the least I can do.

What the fuck kind of joke is the cosmos sending me?  What did I do to deserve being shit upon so heinously?

I had to get up early because the heating guy was coming to clean the heater to get it ready for winter. I asked Hubs to do one simple thing … wake me up around 7 so that I could have a cup of coffee and get into the shower.  That isn’t alot to ask is it?  Today, I woke up on my own….at 7:55!!!  The guy was coming at 8!!!  I hurriedly got dressed, threw some laundry into the washer, and went to the kitchen to get myself a cup of coffee. (It is the only thing known to man to remove the gummy eye boogers in the morning) I picked up the pot and ……

What fresh hell is this???  NO COFFEE!!!   Fuckityfuckfuck. Kill me now.

So I made a new pot. And I added an extra scoop of coffee just to be sure it would do the trick. It did! As the eye gunk slowly dissolved, tears of joy filled my eyes. The extra strong, extra thick, extra black sludge was AWESOME!

The heating guy showed up and began to do his thing. I could hear the vacuum running and I heard him taking off things and sliding in new filters. then I smelled that stinky smell that comes when you turn on a heater after six months of non-use. *Gag* He came up the stairs shaking his head. Uh-oh. That can’t be good. Why oh why must my first thought be correct? It wasn’t good.

“Your heater is clean. The filter has been replaced.  But….”

There it is. The but. Not the BUTT, the BUT.  I repeat- Fuckityfuckfuck. Kill me now.

“Your heater is old.  Not only that, but a healthy heater puts out a carbon monoxide reading of zero to three. Yours is almost five. At eight you will die.  At six, by law, I have to shut it down and report it.  For the age that it is, you would be better off replacing it and having it guaranteed for 99 years. That isn’t my advice because I am the heating guy, it’s my advice because I know your Hubs. I’m not trying to sell a heater, I’d like to safeguard your lives.”

I looked into his beautiful blue eyes  to see if there was a hint of deceit, a sign of trying to get one over on me. They were fringed with long black lashes and I wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

I blinked and broke the spell.  No lies. Just advice. We need a new heater before it gets cold. Did I mention that we live in the Northeastern United States? It tends to get pretty cold around here!  Fuckityfuckfuck. Kill me now.

He left and I sat digesting this information. The phone rang and it was the school. Babygirl has a sore throat. It has been a bit scratchy but I guess crossing my fingers and hoping for the best didn’t do the trick this time. She has swollen glands now, but no fever. Because her throat hurts, she isn’t drinking and therefore she is now slightly dehydrated and her blood pressure is a little low. They were sending here home. Hubs had to leave work to pick her up. Great. And now I have to make her a doctor appointment …Fuckityfuckfuck. Kill me now.

The phone rang again. What the hell can it be this time??

Jen got called into work so I will have her two little ones again today after all. From 12 until 5. It’s almost 12 now.

Fuckityfuckfuck. Kill me now.

YESTERDAY

The best part of my whole day was this:

And this:

TODAY

Today this is what’s taking  up the bulk of my day:

And this:

What a difference 24 hours makes!

I had no kids today and that was a pretty good thing. I managed a whole night of sleep and woke up early, clear headed and very happy. It’s a great day out and it’s not too hot. Perfect weather to feel energized.

So I cleaned the upstairs bathroom.

I began by spraying the tile down with industrial strength bathroom cleaner. I thoroughly soak the tiles before cleaning because they are so gross. Since it is a narrow shower stall, the mist gathered and when I breathed it in……ugh! It was enough to irritate my throat. So I rinsed it down real quick and left for a bit.

Upon returning, I sprayed the shower door down with glass cleaner. I was being nitpicky and if I missed a spot, I rushed to re-spray and try to get it again. Now I had a mist of ammonia going into my lungs. So I left for a bit.

Upon returning yet again, I used some Mr Clean to scrub the bathroom floor. I forgot just how small that bathroom was and used a bit more cleaner than I should have. It left the floor kinda tacky. So I dumped the bucket into the shower drain, refilled it with clean water and finished cleaning the floor. I started to get a headache but it was no big deal. As I said, there were no kids and if I needed to, I could take a nap. But before I could declare the bathroom finished, there was one last job.

I spray the shower walls and ceiling with a bleach solution because we have a problem with molds in that hot, moist, back room. I sprayed and began to cough. Actually it was a combination of gag, vomit and cough. Now my sinuses felt funny, my throat burned, and my eyes were getting irritated.

And I barely noticed that a new smell seemed to emanate from the stall. ….a nasty burning smell.

I turned on the shower and allowed a hot spray to run. I ran out of the room and sat in my son’s room with my head on the window sill, gasping for breath.

That was an hour ago.

I shut off the water long ago, opened all of the upstairs windows and turned on the fan in the hallway. Now there is only a lingering shadow of that noxious, vile mixture. However, I can still feel it and smell it in my sinuses, throat and lungs. It isn’t pleasant!

I know better than to mix up all that shit. All I wanted to do was clean. In my mind, as long as I didn’t fill a bucket with all of those things at once, I wasn’t actually mixing them.

Damn, I feel like a dumbass now.

Babygirl and her BF spent alot of time at his house before he left for college. They would hang out and watch movies in the family room or with his dad.  They would play monopoly or chat with friends on the computer. They even baked and cooked with his mom.  Mrs. BF has two boys.  She had always wanted a daughter, and when the boys began dating, she took the girls under her wing.

BF’s older brother has a ‘clingy’ girlfriend. She follows him from room to room and texts him repeatedly when they aren’t together. She is jealous if she sees him talking to Babygirl. Needless to say, Babygirl doesn’t particularly care for her and Mrs. BF just tolerates her. Because of this, she loves my Babygirl. She likes to sew and she made her pajamas. She knits and she made her a hat and scarf. When her prom dress needed alterations, Babygirl went to her first so that she could ask her to hem it for her. ( I just do not sew! Really!)

Today, after school, my girl went to see Mrs BF. When she got there, she was greeted with warm cornbread and homemade soup. Since she had mentioned that she was considering learning how to knit, Mrs BF bought her some yarn and needles and intends to teach her how.

“Mom, when I got there, she hugged me and told me that she misses me so much! She wants me to stop in more often. And she even bought me presents because she thought of me when she was shopping. Isn’t that so nice?”

Yes, it is very nice. This is a woman who does the things that I do not do. She sews and cooks and shops and hugs and all the rest. I have little patience with teaching and Babygirl has little patience with learning. Or maybe we just tend to get impatient with each other. I like that she has someone who cares enough to share these things with her. I am happy to know that my girl is so lovable to other people.

But there is also a part of me that is somewhat jealous. I, too, was the mother of two boys and I desperately wanted a daughter to bake cookies with or share makeup tips. When I finally had Babygirl, I thought my dreams had some true. But as a little girl, she was just like me. When she wore little dresses to preschool, she also wore her Timberland boots. When it came to playing with her cousins, it was the boys that she wanted to dig in the dirt with, play football with, fight with. And doing her hair? Forget it. Not that girl. But now she is  making up for lost time by being a girly girl who likes to do her hair and makeup. She shops for pretty clothes. And wants to knit. My dreams did come true, just in a different way than I had imagined.

My daughter brought a different ‘flavor’ to our family’s  loving dynamic. She is like the extra sugar in a cup of coffee, bringing a sweetness to her father’s demeanor and a tenderness to her brothers.

It’s like Mrs. BF is borrowing a cup of my sugar.

I hated the way you walked into the bedroom with that cigarette the first thing this morning and I hated the ashes that landed in the bathroom sink. I hated the dirty look I got for staying in bed until nine am and the way you blasted the television so that you could hear it all the way into the den.

I hated the way you mowed the  lawn, circling the house repeatedly. I couldn’t move to another room for temporary silence because your circles would only come back around to aggravate me. I hated that you left the mower running while you picked up sticks and tossed them aside. Someone could have gotten hurt if they had touched it. I know that there weren’t any kids around, but still……And I was wrong to point it out to you.

I hated the look you gave me when I asked for an idea of what you wanted for dinner this week. “I don’t care” is not an option for the answer. I hated the sighs and glares that came from you while we shopped for groceries. No, I didn’t  ‘buy a lot of useless shit.’  It only seems like ’shit’ because it isn’t what you like to eat. I’m sorry, but my idea of dinner is not peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or a bag of Oreos. I don’t make up the prices and it isn’t my fault that vegetables cost so much.

I hated the silence between us in the car. I hated how you drove ‘angry’ and at double the speed limit. Yes, I was the bitch who mentioned it to you. And I know….”When I drive I can do what I want but you are the one behind the wheel….”

I hated the silence as we ate dinner. As we watched tv. As you read your newpaper.

I hated the way my every suggestion or attempt at communication was viewed as a personal attack on you. I never meant to nag you about anything. I hated the way it was met with derision. I hated the way every choice or action I made, was doubted.

I hated the way you made me feel. If I have done something to deserve it, let me know. Drop me a clue. If there’s something going on and you are only striking out at me because I’m the closest, then fine. Just let me know so that we’re on the same page. It wouldn’t be the first time.

I am madly in love with you. That will never change.

I just didn’t like you very much today. And that makes me not like myself either.