our second journey, part eight gig harbor…Β 

my friend and i perused the menus at net shed no. 9. ironically enough, we both said, “i’ll either get the pastrami panini or the ricotta pancakes.” so, i suggested that we each get one and then split and share the rest…that’s what we did. 

my friend and i spent time talking and sharing. all the while, i was taking my surroundings in. my senses reveled in sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and touches. i couldn’t have imagined a more spectacular place to have been invited to. it screamed, “magic!!”…just like java moon had in sheridan, wy. 

my friend put a lot of thought and effort into asking me to brunch. all of my little ridiculous “signs” we’re there…bob and bud my crows…the revivalist’s, “wish i knew you when i was young”…and the presence of my number, the perfect number 9 (because 9 is three 3’s and the square root of 9 is 3).

our server came back and served us our food. it was as delicious, as it was beautiful. my friend began working on a pancake and i began nibbling on a half of pastrami panini. buggs still seated in the chair next to me, gave me a pleading, sad look. 

instead of ignoring him or just saying no, i stabbed a piece of pastrami with my fork and fed it to him. at the time, i never even stopped to think about exactly how that would look to other people…a dog seated at the table in his own chair, being fed pastrami from his owners fork. 

like i said before, i was physically exhausted and sleep “starved.” when i get to the point of being sleep starved, i’m just not “myself” anymore and all kinds of digression becomes possible. it can be goofy and ridiculous like brunch, or it can be frightening and dangerous like losing a cell phone amongst the sand dunes. 

but, brunch was nice. we got to the point where we exchanged the other half of our meal with each other. my friend finished her meal first, which was no surprise because i’m a painfully slow eater. i could feel myself becoming uncomfortable. i wanted to finish my meal, but felt bad about doing so, as i had already usurped two hours of my friends time, by being late. 

***stopping here today, because it makes me uncomfortable to think about it.***

…more tomorrow… 

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our second journey, part seven…gig harbor…Β 

***i’m going to let everyone know now. i’m feeling pretty yucky and i just might not make it all the way through this today.***

so, here buggs and i were in a beautiful, magical surrounding…washington my home. i was two hours late for my friend. i was “sleep starved” and starting to get overly tired/exhausted/loopy, as well as, experience weird shootings pains in my lower back and legs.

i had just hugged my friend and we began to walk away from my car toward the restaurant. at that point, my twelve pound dynamo, buggs, started barking and wouldn’t stop. it was fall, but really nice outside and it wasn’t too hot to leave him in the car. he had access to food and water, but wouldn’t stop. 

we were going to sit outside on the patio overlooking the harbor. there were other dogs sitting outside, lying on the ground next to the table, so, my friend suggested that we bring buggs along to brunch. i went back to the car and got him. the hostess showed us to our table and brought us coffee. i was holding onto buggs still, but leaned over to put him on the ground. 

as i tried to put my twelve pound charge down, i knocked over my coffee, which in turn spilled into my lap. my jumping up quickly to deal with the hot liquid scared buggs and he was back in my arms again. without thinking about it, i set him down in the empty chair next to me, so that i could look at my menu. he stayed sitting there in that chair, until i was ready to go. 

***sorry, i’ve got to lie down for a bit…more tomorrow…***

our second journey, part five…fife to gig harbor…Β 

once my co-pilot, buggs and i, finally crawled into bed at our motel 6, in fife…i realized that i still needed to check my email and set my wake-up alarm. 

my friend, whom i was having brunch with the next day, had sent me a confirmation email and asked if eleven am would be okay. i answered, “yes.”

at that point, it was 0330 and i really should have been more realistic about time, my exhaustion level, and common courtesy. 

this friend was very important to me. she invited me to brunch after not having seen me in over a year. i was looking forward to seeing her and catching up. 

however, i couldn’t sleep and my whole body felt like it was vibrating, as if i was still driving the car. i was tired and frustrated and decided to write to j**s.

after crafting a somewhat mysterious, ambiguous, and vague email. i set my alarm for 0800, which i thought would give me plenty of time to get ready, be on time. 

before falling asleep, i felt something coming on. my whole body hurt, my feet were throbbing, and i felt incredibly dizzy and nauseous. i crashed hard. 

i awoke at 0800 and took buggs outside. i had my clothes out and toiletries ready. I then packed everything else up and loaded the car up. 

i kept feeling a weird pinch in my lower back and an electrical type pain radiating down my legs. i pushed forward, as quickly as i could…showering and dressing. 

i looked and looked for both my pill box and my deodorant. i found neither. i was panicked as i looked at the clock…time was getting away from me. 

i finally figured out, that i had forgotten both my meds and my deodorant. i sent my friend an email letting her know that i was running late. 

i threw the rest of my stuff into the car and drove to get gas and ran inside the store to buy deodorant. i got back into the car and put deodorant on. 

i then sent my friend a link to track my driving progress and eta in real-time. i said, “okay google, take me to net shed no. 9.” i got onto the freeway and sped away. 

however, i then received a text that said that i was headed in the wrong direction. i was so fucking mad at google and at myself for being an unrealistic moron. 

i could actually hear r*****d’s words in my mind…”you stupid, fucking moron!!” and in this case, he would have been absolutely, fucking right. 

more tomorrow…this one hurts…it’s still a sore subject with me…because i fucked it all up… 

photos of our second journey, set four…vancouver, wa to fife, wa to gig harbor, wa…

a very irritated single here…

…and, i’d say that that is stating it nicely. i’m actually pretty shocked and sickened. for you see, both coffee and bagels are very special to me. they hold importance and meaning and are dear to my heart.

the other day a very well-meaning friend sent me a link and told me to try it and see if i liked it. needless to say, it was a link for a dating app. i’ve tried to explain to my friend that i’m on “relationship restriction,” but she doesn’t understand the sentiment.

i very hesitatingly agreed to try it and see what i thought. i didn’t want to, but gave in. so anyway, a little bit later this stupid, motherfucking link appeared in my email. i was instantly irritated by the ridiculous, sickening attempt to be cutesy, contrived name…

coffee meets bagel 😝😑😠

against my better judgement, i humored my friend and checked the ridiculous site out. i spent five minutes on the site and ascertained that i was supposed to be “coffee.” which only meant that potential women to date were supposed to be…you guessed it…”bagels.”

that realization was really disturbing to me for many reasons. i got pissed off and tried to withdraw myself from their system. i received a flashing red box that informed me that by leaving the site i could be, “walking away from ‘my special bagel’.”

and, that was the last bit of painful irony that i expected to be sitting alone with all that day…and, the next day, yesterday, and today. and no, it wasn’t the fact that i left that stupid site and those “faux bagels” behind. it’s something else altogether. something that i’m sorry for. something that brought me to this point.

coffee and bagels are special. they should be treated as such. “coffee meets bagel,” is a contrived manipulation. i love my friend, but good god…she lacked judgement on this one.

i live on a limited income…

***tonight, it seemed apropos to go through the things that i have written in the last year. i came across this little gem that i had written about, m****a.***

i live on a limited income

yes, sure that’s sometimes true of my finances…sometimes not…

but, what i speak of is much more existential, than anything else…

what i’m talking about is way more valuable to me than any currency…

it may have no value at all to you and in fact you’ve shown me that repeatedly…

i’m talking about the things that give my life authenticity and meaning…

the things that i either give myself, i earn, or i accept as gifts from others…

there are many of these things, but i will use love as an example…

i have a very limited amount of love in my life, it’s my most scarce commodity…

i absolutely, positively have to keep as much as i can for myself…

as i have only a small stipend coming in each month from friends and buggs…

i really don’t have any extra love to throw around willy-nilly…

if i use half of the love that i was going to use on myself, on you…

it’s because i wanted to and i thought that you were worth sharing with…

i didn’t expect you to share with me, but had a little left from the month before…

you liked it, you liked it a lot and wanted more, that made me happy. i obliged…

at the end of the third month, you came by with your hand out…

i looked deep within myself, in each and every place, and found no trace of love…

the love was gone, absolutely nothing for myself and nothing for you…

i looked up rather sheepishly, expecting to meet your gaze, but you were gone…

long gone…and there i was wondering how i could give to my own dog…

what i-myself had so foolishly and recklessly squandered, risking it all…

wondering how i could give him, what i no longer even had for myself…

in one movement, he was in my lap, licking my tears away…

in that moment, his sweet nature and kindness filled me…

filled me with more than enough love for both of us, he and i…

 

 

 

faux pas…

…according toΒ the urban dictionary a faux pas is “french for ‘false step.’ a severe social blunder or major breach in etiquette. if the faux pas in question was unintentional it oftens leads to a very awkward and uncomfortable moment. if the faux pas in question was intentional the person who intentionally committed the faux pas in question is often loathed for an appropriate period of time (or bitch slapped). but- on a rare occasion the person the intentional faux pas was directed at might find it funny and laugh it off.”

my ex used to tell me a story about her ex boyfriend. she was taking him to meet her father for the first time over dinner at a fancy restaurant. both were very nervous, i am unsure of how the rest of it went now, so, i apologize if i don’t get it completely correct.

the trio were sharing conversation and getting to know each other. at some point fairly early on, my exes boyfriend…said or did something goofy or awkward. he knew what a faux pas was and quickly wanted to acknowledge his mistake, while tackling a fancy phrase.

what came out of his mouth, mortified my ex. she was embarrassed for him to have made such a blunder. he was unaware that he had said anything incorrectly. i don’t even remember now, if she corrected him or not, but i do remember what he said. he said something like, “oops! i made a *fox paws*.” and that little tid bit of awkwardness, has stuck with me.

i try to be diligent in knowing the meanings of words, how “fancy $20 words” are pronounced, what’s acceptable, and what’s respectful. when it comes to speaking and writing, no matter how careful i am, there are times when i commit *fox paws* of my very own. when that happens, it’s all downhill from there.

on those occassions when i “step in it,” i “step in it” with both feet. one thing that i can say about myself, is that when i commit to something, i’m in all the way up to my eyeballs. there’s no “fence sitting,” when it comes to a faux pas. you either meant it or you didn’t. i don’t think that i’ve ever had an intentional faux pas. mine have all been very much unintentional and endlessly embarassing.

here’s part of my problem, once i realize that i’ve committed a faux pas. i freeze. my mind begins to spin. and if i’m texting, my fingers begin fiercely typing: my apalling realization, my sincere apology, and the message as i wish that i would’ve conveyed it. in all actuality, it should stop there, but it doesn’t!

i make things even more complicated by adding my “emoji hieroglyphics.” in my mind, they are meant to dispel any kind of tension or discomfort. they are to explain my thought process and related chain of emotions. if anyone ever stopped to ask me, “what were you thinking?” these “hieroglyphics,” would easily answer that question. but the thing is…nobody’s ever asked me that question. i just throw it out there all “willy-nilly.”

yesterday, i was having a text conversation with my friend. she and her sister had been shopping at nordstroms. she was relating the details of their shopping trip and the fact that they had gotten some nice things. well, of course i was happy and excited for them. i relayed that fact immediately and without giving it too much thought.

i pushed the “send” button and immediately cringed. i froze and read what i had just sent. a voice in my mind repeatedly chided, “undo, undo, undo…” of course there are no “magic gossamer threads” attached to texts that you can just yank on and pull back to you without the other party seeing. i would pay good money for such an app!

i looked again and there it was, “you girls scored!” i was absolutely mortified. there was no unringing that bell. my only excuse, which i didn’t use, was that i’ve only been keeping company with girls, “the girls.” i guess that i just wasn’t thinking beyond the confines of our apartment.

in my attempt to “right my wrong,” i just kept “stepping in it.” the faux pas was like a snowball rolling down hill, getting bigger, and faster…and way more noticeable. but mind you, i’m the only one that was upset and offended by my faux pas. they were not, but i didn’t know that at the time.

so, from “you girls scored!” i apologized for referring to them as girls and explained that i didn’t mean it to offend or be disrespectful. from there, i reworked my original line. it read, “you young ladies scored!” and then, it became, “shit…you young women scored!” and then, out they came…the “emoji hieroglyphics.”

πŸ˜πŸ˜•πŸ˜•πŸ˜“πŸ€”πŸ€”πŸ€€πŸ€€πŸ˜¨πŸ˜¨πŸ˜¨πŸ€”πŸ€”πŸ˜²πŸ˜²πŸ˜²πŸ€”πŸ€”πŸ€”πŸ˜“πŸ˜“πŸ˜•πŸ˜•β˜Ήβ˜ΉπŸ˜¨πŸ˜“πŸ€€πŸ€€πŸ€€πŸ˜²πŸ˜²πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ’©πŸ™ŠπŸ™ŠπŸ™ŠπŸ™ŠπŸ™ŠπŸ™ŠπŸ™ŠπŸ™ŠπŸ™ŠπŸ™ŠπŸ™ŠπŸ™ŠπŸ™ŠπŸ™ŠπŸ™ŠπŸ™Š

hieroglyphics key as follows:

😁 – enjoying my conversation

πŸ˜• – oh dear…

πŸ€” – recalculating

🀀 – omg!

😨 – frozen

😲 – undo, undo, undo

πŸ˜“ – i feel awful

☹ – ruh-roo

πŸ’© – shit

πŸ™Š – going to be quiet, i’ve said enough

keep in mind, that i haven’t really spoken with or been in the company of a true lady, in a little over a year. so, in my current reality “ladies” don’t exist. i just never gave it all a second thought until i did. and then when i did, i panicked.

they did however let me know that they preferred to be addressed as just “ladies,” as opposed to anything else. it was a huge relief to me to find out the proper address for next time and to know that they were not offended.