I am overly fond of 3 dot journalism. I learned it from loving The San Francisco Chronicle & the columns of the late, great Herb Caen. When I moved to Indidana, I inquired about having The Chronicle delivered here...the price was horrendous,& it would have arrived a minimum of 3 days late, and after Herb passed, I realized that the Chronicle was just one more thing that I would heve to miss about California. There are many things I miss about California, but, by & large I am over the vast majority of them. I did love The Chronicle, though...Sundays, I'd take my dog, Cassidy, to Mud Puppy Park near Berzerkley/Emoryville in the morning, then come back to my hovel, & spend the rest of the day reading The Chronicle, maybe cooking up a lil stir-fry, some white wine or scotch in the evenings, and as I had cable back then, movies, movies, movies... I had carved out my own lil piece of Heaven in Oakland's ghetto, disturbed only by an occasional drive-by bullet exchange, which only made me turn up the tube louder & lie on the floor, with my muttinski at my side, and maybe bitch & moan a lil bit, with Cassidy as my only audience. It is scary to think what I adjusted to with such nonchalance & lack of concern for my own safety. I suppose, back then, I didn't place as much value on my safety as I did on my freedom & the pursuit of what I then considered to be my happiness...it certainly was an adventure, I'm glad I got it out of my system,& it is funny how I never believed I would ever know the happiness that I know now, in rural Indiana, where I rarely have time to read the paper, & as it is all obits, local color (or lack thereof), advertising, and small time busts(compared to the big ones in the Bay Area), I rarely make the effort.

I don't spellcheck my blog posts anymore, as it is such a frustrating exercise & I often lose the post in action while trying to get it right. These daze, I write what I feel, spell it like I figure that it might be spelled(spelt?), &/or how I feel like spelling it, & post that bad boy & get on with my life. Besides, only my old English teachers would care. I'm blogging for me & the cyber friends that I have been blessed enough to find. I don't have the time to research this & that, nor do I have the inclination to do so. Pretend that I'm rich if it bothers you, and these are just a few more of my eccentricities. It's my blog. I really have no need to impress anybody... me, myself I got nuthun' to lose. I like to write.
And I like to do it my way.

As of late though, I haven't had the time to surf the Stream, answer the kind comments that have come my way, visit other sites, & do all of the many things I love to do on Blogstream...

I kinda have to take these short cuts because time is of the essence. I hit that treadmill almost everyday. 2 1/2 miles is my only personal best, but that is well over an hour of steady trucking. The secret is never quit. Slow down, stretch before & after the truckin', get it on , have H2O at the ready, and never quit until you are done. When I get weary, I slow the pace... but never quit until I have cooled down, & am ready to quit for the night. Today was really difficult due to the high humidity...I had a long, hard day @ work & put up a big time sweat there, so hopefully all of that counted for something, but I could only pull a mile and a half tonite due to the big-time many days of rain Indiana has been deluged with all this week, I ache all over before, during, and after all forms of exertion. Music is the best inspiration(Red Hot Chili Peppers, Santana, Tom Petty, Clapton in all incarnations, Mellencamp, Sweet Baby James, Van Morrison, Jackson Brown, Niel Young, CSNY, Creedence &/or John Fogerty, The Eagles, John Lee Hooker & The Good Ol' Grateful Dead), but I can lose myself in a movie & truck out those 2 miles or so, almost as easily, without ostrasizing Bubba with my musical DVDs or my ipod. He invariably wants to talk to me about something when I am wearing my ipod & it frustrates him to have to repeat stuff. He is still quite the cave man & scorns 21st Century technology, of which I only have a glimmer of a grasp of, but remain enthralled by the concept of...Opposites do attract, and thus, we never discuss politics for long, as he will vote any way The NRA tells him to vote, and I am a sucker for a BS story & I always get suckered in by the crook of my choice-we don't fight if we work at getting along, & that means, NO POLITICS.

And it is time for Crashtime again. He is already asleep & it just hit 10pm in my area of Indiana. To be up and running around 6AM ain't EZ these daze so I gotta go & will make every effort to return on the morrow or shortly thereafter...

Time keeps on ticking into the future...let's see what happens next.

1. yeah...Larry is Bubba...but Larry is also the name of my grandfather, father, brother, and nephew. Billyjones once asked me to move to S. Carolina & live with him & his family, and he's get me a job, and find me a boyfriend named Bubba. He was worried about me...I hadn't dated in years, I drank too much, and was far too unhappy for far too long...I asked Larry if I could call him Bubba to alleviate the multiple Larry confusion...as I fell in love with Larry, I called Billyjones to let him know that I was staying in town & had found my own Bubba...

2. We lived in 2 RVs for almost 3 years while Bubba built a house from the foundation up, in a upper class country housing addition where I never dreamt it would be possible for someone like me to live in. Rich people live here. They've accepted us, but I just know they have their reservations. I wear a lot of tie dye.

3. The house is still a work in progress..the kitchen sink isn't finished, there is no front porch, and most walls are still spotted with dry wall awaiting paint. I have never been happier in my whole life...or richer...

4. Larry got a post holer & fenced in the entire back yard which is over 1/2 an acre so that our dogs could roam & bark & run without causing trouble. I call it Bubba's Puppy Pleasure Palace. He calls it their house...I never thought I would meet anyone who loved dogs more than me...I never thought I'd end up with a country boy who had no real vices...I never thought that I could ever be this happy & still in love, well over a decade down the line...he calls me "dear" and "angel"...he never cusses or swears. He is my polar opposite & I love him with all my heart. He gives me the strength I need to survive, the promise and the hope...the comfort & the laughter.

5. as Saturdays are my only days off, we celebrated my bithday today with Pirates (which I reccomend highly),"Dead Mann's Chest" & Applebee's which for some reason made me sick to my tummy...it's really late & I gotta crash as I gotta work & then, run my rounds @ the nursing homes on the morrow. I am sad that I don't seem to have the time to hang out in the Stream like I used to, but I am sure that I will come back into it. To everything, there is a season...Lucy, I don't have a camera, but it was you who inspired me to buy an ipod...I'll need a few more paydays & upgrades b4 I could contribute to your movies, ME- I love ya Darlin & will try & GET BACK WITH YOU SOON...Gina-do I know you?...Colo-I'll pick up my story where I left off for you, just a lil later....everybody... I gotta crash. I'll be back.

That first night that Larry & I met, we each thought something different was going on than what was really happening. I thought the blonde pony tail was indicative of a hippie-dude. He thought that we'd been set up on a blind date as we both liked line dancing. That was only the tip of the iceberg...

It was in a crowded, smokey, noisey bar that our mutual friend decided we should meet. Nervous about my first date in many years, I stood up and extetended my hand to shake his. He was thrown a little off guard that I would stand up at his initial approach. I think I just liked the way that he looked & got a little carried away with the initial excitement. As I took my seat again, he asked me what I was drinking, and I replied, "Margaritas..."(plural)...without taking his seat, he said "I'll get you another," turned on his heel, and went straight to the bar to order us drinks.

"Aww geeez, if he's going to try to get me drunk, I'm already half way there," I told my table of supporting girlfriends. He returned from the bar with a Margarita for me, and a cola-something in a glass that I was unsure of, for himself. Searching for conversation,I practically had to holler at him to ask him what he was drinking. Coming from a party-hearty back ground, I thought that it was important to know what the man was drinking...imagine my double-take when the answer he hollered back was "Diet Coke." All of our conversation had to be hollered back and forth over the jukebox music, the bar TV, and roughly 60-75 other customers coming & going. There were those noisey games that you find in bars that eat your quarters in return for fantasy target practice and such, in the adjoining room, with boisterous cheering and encouragement in the spirit of friendly, drunken competition. I thought then, in those days, that I liked bars.
Time changes one's perspectives.

Larry is a soft spoken guy, and the constant yelling & requests for repeats of what was just yelled started to really bug me. My group of supportive girlfriends had drifted off, hither & yon, until Larry and I were the only ones left at our large table. The noise was ridiculous, and I thought that I could get to like this guy, and that I had probably had enough to drink, so I yelled what was on my mind.

"Do you want to go sit in my car and talk?" I think I pretty much wanted to kiss him.

"OK, if you want to," he answered. Now that I know him I know that he had no ulterior motive, he was just being agreeable. Then, I figured he might be a typical opportunist, and I was determined to be and stay in charge of the proceedings. It was February, freezing and snowing, and he helped me with my coat, and put on his own. Our table was immediately nabbed by the never-ending crowd as we were leaving. I thought I knew what he was thinking, and just before we went out of the bar door, I turned and faced him and strongly advised him,"If you are thinking we are going to make love in the parking lot, you've got another thing coming, 'cuz it's just not going to happen!" I was scolding him, complete with wagging, accusatory finger in his face... and he just looked puzzled and answered his simple, "OK."

And it didn't happen. And, though I did eventually kiss him, we mostly talked. I told him pretty much right off the bat that I liked him and wanted to see him again. He told me that we could maybe date some, but he'd feel better about the whole thing when his divorce became final the following month. He didn't want me to get a reputation for seeing a married man. I really didn't see the problem as his ex-to-be was already living with another guy, but I found it curiously charming that he wanted to do right by me before he even got to know me.

Then, he asked me if I'd like to go with him line dancing in a nearby town's Country-Western bar. I was then, and am now, intent upon being a free spirit in spite of my age(then, it was 41). I was then, and am now, a Dead Head dancer, moving where the rythm takes me, often a whirling dervish. Line dancing was the last thing I wanted to do...it was too much like marching...too structured, too neat, too polished. But I was then, as I am now, determined to be Ruth Gordon's "Maude" of "Harold & Maude"' when I grow up-the mind-blowing, adventurous lover of life, seizing the day, living life to it's fullest, aging lady full of surprizes. I decided not to be too judgemental about this guy's passion for line-dancing, and accepted the offer fo the following weekend. So what if he had never heard of Carlos Santana or The Grateful Dead-the man looked like Crockadile Dundee! He was quiet, well-mannered and he didn't drink(which I found astounding).Then, to learn that he never had had a drink ever, and had never smoked ANYTHING ever, I just had to get to know him better. Besides, then, as now, he let me do most of the talking...

But he does get a little peeved if I am on the computer for long periods of time, when we could be spending quality time together. Tomorrow is Saturday & I will blog & surf some more, about something(including my ever-belated Friday Five). We'll see what I blog about then, but I'll give you a hint before I join him in the living room...there is so much more to tell, and I never did go line-dancing. Ever.

My divorce was final a decade after it started. I do not know if my ex is dead or alive-I only know, the last I heard of him, he was somebody else's problem. He is no longer my problem, I try not to think about him. I allowed him to do a great deal of harm to me, and to leave gashes of pain and humiliation that I still, occasionally, out of habit, allow myself to limit my ego, self-confidience, pride & and many other emotions that would be beneficial to me in the course of my development to live my best life now. But, I'm working to over come bad habits on a pretty much daily basis... and, every day, I get a little bit closer.

After I left him, my sister flew out to California to help me drive back to Indiana. I stayed a couple of years in my hometown, drank far to much, was a frequent visitor to several bars & had some more demeaning relationships. One tends to repeats one's mistakess until they put forth the effort to change. I drove my folks up a wall, I'm sure...worried about my drinking, or pouring me a drink, depending on what they were going through at different times. Restlessness got the better of me...I thought that I could only be happy in California...I wanted to go back to San Francisco so bad that my heart ached more for all I had missed out on because my ex was such a limiting, control-freak...there was so much I had missed out on that I can only describe as Califonia's charm.... as I allowed my ex to turn me into his "House Mouse" & the only sights i ever saw were under his direct supervision....oooh, to be single in San Francisco, to go to museums, parks, parties, bars(of course), sea food extravaganzas, dog parks...to be single & go back to some old bad habits etc., let us not go there... cuz that's what i ended up doing...I landed a job, a place to stay before I left Indiana again & got drunk & drove back to California. That road trip is a long story for another time.

I spent 7 years back in California...lots of adventures...even fell in love & got my heart broken, all over again. Other than that guy, any other guys I had mini-relationships with were all one heck of a lot more trouble than they were worth. My last 3 year in California, I pretty much quit dating...I was just happier alone, doing my own thing, dancing alone at The Dead & other concerts for the love of the rythm, the rapture of the dance...

Back home in Indiana, my siblings were making preparations for a surprize bithday party for my Dad...I sent a taped poem/letter by me to my Dad which they planned to play for him @ the party in my absence...a real tear-jerker, as I recall. After the tape was made, I offhandedly asked which bithday this was for Dad(I have trouble keeping track of my own age), and when the answer travelled over the long distance line, and my siblings were laughing at me as I didn't know Dad was turning 70, right then & there, I went into a kind of shock. I vividly remember pacing circles in the living room of my lil hovel in Oakland wher I thought that I was enjoying my life in."70? No, I must've heard it wrong...how can my Daddy be 70?" & I cried...& I flirted with denial, "I must've heard wrong...they must've said 60....they must've meant 60. My Dad...70? What the heck am I doing 3/4 of the way across the country, away from my wonderful siblings, my beloved Mom, and a 70 yr old Daddy?" That was in February. I bought a dog crate for Cassidy, my constant companion, took the Spring & Summer to kiss California goodbye, mailed some boxes home. sold or gave away all the rest of my material possesions and flew home in September. My folks would be needing all of us kids soon in a way they had never needed help before...I had to get back & do my share. There was suddenly no reason to stay in California and every reason to go home for my family and for myself.

Back home again, in Indaiana, I was living in my sister's basement & found a fun job working "Security" for the local manufacturer of a big name in engines...I wore a cute lil uniform, was nice to people when they passed my checkpoint, was nice to the executives & the regular blue collar folks & had fun @ work & din't work very hard. Lots of times, I got to drive a company truck all over town checking at various plants & labs & company related sub-companies, after hours to ensure that they were secure. I made lots of friends. For another 2+ years, I still didn't want to date, and I didn't.

One new friend & co-worker heard me talking 'bout the transcendance of my realities through rythm and dance. She really didn't grasp the concept of my Dead-Speak, but the next night she noticed her newly divorced, hearbroken friend Larry, whom she considered a really nice guy putting on a happy face & showing some of his co-workers how to line dance, doin' "The Achey-Breaky," in front of a bank of vending machines. Something clicked in her brain...

Sharon asked Larry if he might be intrested in a blind date. His divorce was still a month away from being final, but his ex had already moved on & in with another guy, & Larry said that if his blind date understood his divorce was still pending & still agreed to meet him that he would meet me, but we could'nt date until all leagalities were completed. So, then, Saharon calls me & asks if I'd go out on a blind date. I remember my answer..."Well, ya' know, I haven't had an adventure in a long time. Or a date, either, for that matter. Ok, I'm up for it!" Then, she delivers HIS conditions & I hesitate and said, "Say what?" She gets apologetic, but makes his points clear & she'll understand if I thought things were too weird..."No, Sharon that's cool...all that makes him really a safe date, and I am all for a safe date." "No, Cher, yopu're just going to meet him, he can't date til his divorce is final," she stresses. "Yeah, yeah I got that...he's a little different than most guys I've known..." "Yeah, you could say that..."

Sharon, and a few other girls who were all working towards this "meeting" set it up for us to meet at a local bar. I knew it well. I had no idea that this would be the first time that he had ever been in it. The girls came with me for moral support & to ease the introduction blues. I arrived early, no longer adventurousnervous as a cat, had 2 Margaritas...it was a busy Saturday night, lots of folks coming & going. Some, I knew, some were stranger...

"Is that him?"
"No," came the same answer, 5 or 6 times.
Then, alone, he walked in.
"Boy, I hope THAT'S him," I exclaimed to the girls at my table, trying to be cute & vivatious, but not seriously considering that this dress-blue jean dude with his blond hair pulled back into a neat pony tail could actually be him..."Yes! Hey, Larry! Over here"

ok...time for fireworks...he spent over $100 on fireworks for the 2 of us & the 4 dogs we harbor behind a tall, locked fence tonight...I gotta go be with the man who still provides me with fire works yr- round, more than 14 yrs after I first saw him.

...right now, gotta go

more juicy details, later...

given the short version of the preceeding post...my marriage sucked for 8 out of 10 yrs. Bubba married his high school sweetie when he was 19, she was 18. She wasn't pregnant before the marriage, but soon thereafter. I dunno how long or how much of Larry's marriage sucked...he never uses that word( nor any other border line vulgarity), he never talks about her good, or bad, he never talks about his marriage, he never speaks of his ex. He never makes eye contact with her, nor does he ever stay in the same room that she is in, during family gatherings for the grandkids &/or holidays. He's never said it in so many words, I think, because he just does not have the flair for such dramatic dialouge, but I believe that to him, she is dead.

I am the second woman that Larry has ever dated, slept with, stayed with, taken care of, loved unconditionally, told me that he loved me and no one else...His wife, then me, through a miraculous blind date set up by mutual friends. I got him on the proverbial rebound, yes...and I'm doing whatever I can do to keep him...

& that includes another prematurely ended short post, as we are up waaaay past our bedtime, & he is waiting for me to sign off for the night, turn out the light & fall asleep, holding hands...

...to be continued....