Highway 40

In my rearview mirror

My life is getting clearer....

I finally found my way

Said goodbye to yesterday

Hit the gas, there ain't no brakes on this lost highway

I'm busting loose, I'm letting go

When I'm out on this open road

It's independence day on this lost highway

--Bon Jovi, Lost Highway

This song was on the radio the other morning when the alarm woke me up. I've never been a Bon Jovi fan but there was something infectious and almost happy about the words. The more I listened to it, the more the lyrics seemed to fit how I'm feeling right now.

Let me get past the long and tear-filled goodbye. It's time to put an end to the Highway 40 blog. I know, I know. I've been here before and come crawling back, but this time it really feels like a cycle is over.

This blog started as the tale of my divorce, adjustment to single life and more recently turned into the discovery that love had taken me by surprise. With Raj, it feels like a new story is starting, a different kind of life adventure. Some things changed between us drastically for the better on New Year's Day and I need some time to let that gel and start a new personal blog more in keeping with our story. Stay tuned. 

In the meantime, my attention has been focused more and more on another blog I started a few months ago, Shamanmom. You can keep up with us there for now (it's focused on parenting and shamanism). In another month or two I hope to start another personal blog.  

For now, though, it's time to wave goodbye and hit the gas.

Share your shoes at Share Your Soles!

Wow, it's almost here. All the anticipation, all the stress, all the shopping. I knew it had reached a fever pitch the other day when the kids and I were in Starbucks and I noticed some items on sale near the door. My feet screeched to a halt as I instantly reviewed the list in my head to see if there was someone I still needed to buy a gift for in the final days before Christmas. My 11-year-old daughter laughed at me as only 11-year-olds can.

Yes, for me, the Christmas season brings on a form of temporary insanity. Nothing gladdens my heart more than the prospect of having it over with once and for all.

However, one thing about this year might be a little different. We're reinventing Christmas Day traditions and that's giving me hope to think I'll start feeling a little more fondly of this time of year. The kids have definitely made it known they're not that fascinated by the usual fare of turkey or roast beef. With vegetarianism creeping into our lives more and more (and the inclusion of the veg boyfriend in the celebration) I'm certainly open to trying something new. The kids voted for sushi (I know, the raw fish part ain't veg, but there are veg dishes like edamame, tofu and cucumber rolls). I wondered for several days how I was magically going to produce fresh sushi on Christmas Day, but I forgot that we live in the Bay Area: on Sunday, while out on a bike ride to visit Santa at a nearby mall, we stumbled on to a sushi buffet, Todai, and tried it out for lunch. The restaurant is open Christmas Day. And it's just doors down from the local AMC movie theater. So if we can time it right we may go to a movie, too.

I still haven't figured out how to ease up on the shopping madness, though, other than to try to shop online whenever possible or shop for items that support good causes. I did try to stay away from the mall during the month of December and buy some event tickets instead of toys. Schmutzie was pushing handmade gifts on Etsy this year. I may give that a try in 2008. Change takes time.

This is the revised version about you, my dear Conversationalist. Yesterday morning, I drafted a piece that seemed perfectly justified and accurate at the time, but my conscious nagged me all day about it. When I could stand the voice of wisdom no more, I finally tore it down and blocked it from wide viewing.*  But back to the topic at hand: You, the Conversationalist. You were very important to me once. You gladdened me at a time when I had taken the dynamite to what seemed a safe, if not very happy life, to take a risk at making dreams come true. I was never naive enough to believe you would leave your wife, but I believed you would be honest with me. That was pretty much all I asked of you. But as time went on the mistrust set in. I know now that you would take me back if I wanted to be taken back. What I really want is for both of us to heal and be better people for our kids. Love your little boy, Conversationalist. Love the new baby that's now on the way. And love your wife. The chase is not all it's cracked up to me. I know that now. 

*There's a little more about yesterday on my other blog, Shamanmom, if you're interested in how I'm trying to incorporate a shamanic practice into my parenting.

[I write for the x365 project.]

You are my ex-husband. It still seems strange to call you that, although we've been divorced since June. I am thinking about you a lot this week because tomorrow you turn 50. Such a milestone propels me backwards into memory....I still remember when you started coming to the student chapel in Gainesville, Florida and stood up in church to get your 30th birthday blessing. You had a cute smile, but you were a little strange, too. One time, when all of us were in the pool after a game of football Frisbee, you grabbed my foot and bit my ankle. In fact, on our first real date, you nipped me on the back instead of kissing me goodnight. Maybe I should have realized then that your way of showing interest in a woman was going to be eccentric and sideways at best, leaving me more bewildered and on edge than reassured of your feelings or passion. Maybe when our church burned down less than a week before the wedding I should have taken the opportunity to listen to my doubts and walk away. But there it is. For all the ups and downs, all the disappointments, all the anger, we lasted more than 16 years on the books. Sometimes I regret that it took me so long to realize I was never going to get what I truly needed from you. However, I will always be grateful that of all the times you disappointed me and withheld what I wanted most from you, you came through on one thing: you helped make those two great kids of ours, doing your very best to be a good dad to them.  Although I know I had to leave you to save me, there will always be a tiny part of my heart set aside for you.

In fact, when I hear that song Still by The Commodores,  these words make me think of you:

So many dreams that flew away

So many words we didn't say

Two people lost in a storm

Where did we go?....

We lost what we both had found

You know we let each other down

Happy birthday, M.D.

Roughly two weeks until Christmas. Santa is very, very, very far behind.

Dear Friends and Family of the Female Kind,

So I like to read the New York Times on Sunday. You may call me snooty, you local newspaper fans, but there are a few favorite sections and columns I can't do without. One of them is called "Modern Love." Each week a different author writes a piece about an aspect of relating to others. Mostly in the boy-girl context. But not always.

Last Sunday's piece, for instance, was about women and their worst tendencies in relating to each other - cliques, critiques, gossip and backstabbing (note: men are not immune from such behavior, but the article by Kelly Valen was told from a woman's perspective). Valen writes about how she was kicked out of a sorority in college after a drunken sexual encounter at a party, the women viciously taking sides against her even though some were guilty of worse sexual behavior. 

Years later, she's propelled back in time to those painful moments when she runs into one of the instigators, who makes friendly overtures to her as if it never happened. Having been on both sides as tormentor and tormentee at times in my non-sorority social life, the following text gave me chills: 

I've been a full-time lawyer, a working mother....In each role, I've found my fears about women's covert competition and aggression to be frequently validated: the gossip, the comparisons, the withering critiques of career and mothering choices. We women swim in shark-infested waters of our own design. Often we don't have a clue where we stand with one another...because we're at once allies and foes.

Maybe this made me sit up, too, because I just got my ass nipped by the sharp teeth of a critiquing woman over the weekend - and not for the first time. It's happened several times in the past few years, done with all of the precision of someone sneaking up behind me with a bucket of ice water who wants to make sure I get a nasty surprise. While there's helpful information buried inside the critiques, I usually have a hard time hearing it because of the shocking sting of the unexpected and uncaring way it's done. To be honest, it's starting to erode my trust.

No, I won't play victim here or pretend that I haven't had my own sharp claws out at times, cornered the easy prey or waited for the perfect moment to lob the bag of shit over the wall when least expected. But I think I'm beginning to want what Valen seems to want, too: a truce. For the sake of all women, for the sake of our daughters.

Enough is enough. Please stop. There has to be a better way.

Susan

You are my second child.  How hard you make me laugh sometimes! Tonight, for instance, you showed me part of your cowboy outfit for the play you get to star in at school at next week. When you came around the corner in your underpants, white and pink cowboy boots and white cowboy hat with silver trim, I began to wonder if Will Farrell - and not the ex - had somehow impregnated me way back in 1998.  

You are my first child. I heard a saying once that the oldest child is the cookie you burn, but somehow, despite me ,you've turned out pretty darn good. Smart, pretty - everything a mom could want in a kid. One day, I hope you'll forgive all my mistakes. You've taught me a lot about being a Mom, but there's still a lot to learn.

It must be a time warp. Just where are the days going?

I haven't forgotten to bring you some ideas for good, if you care to check them out:

1. A great Santa example....maybe someone will carry on the tradition!

2. And ideas for next year when the holiday madness is over

There. Now back to online shopping and scheduling credit card payments.