I’ve always wanted a man who could cook, but this could be a case of be careful what you wish for cuz it might come true. You see, the things my sweetie can cook really well and the things he’s grown accustomed to eating all the time are not very healthy. I haven’t eaten so much chicken alfredo, caesar salad, mashed potatoes, gravy, meat loaf, rib eye steaks, baby back ribs drenched in spicy BBQ sauce, fried chicken, sour cream & cheese stuffed baked potatoes, chicken salad sandwiches, chocolate bars, cookies, etc. in all my life!

Well, maybe not all my life, those university years were kinda fast food infested, but I’ve eaten more junk in the past six months than I probably have in the last five years put together. And a couple of weeks ago I noticed my pants were feeling a little snug.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love being spoiled with breakfast in bed and feeling pampered by long romantic dinners where my every desire is anticipated and fulfilled … but if this continues I’m gonna turn into a 200 pound marshmallow! It’s time to take control of the food on our table.

He would say he has never eaten so much boneless skinless chicken breasts in all his life than he has since he’s met me, and he frequently tells people I’ve got him on a diet of nuts and berries, so I haven’t been entirely negligent in the kitchen, I have been gradually influencing his dietary choices. He hasn’t been cooking every night, just on weekends. I’ve converted him to skim milk, which was pretty big. I’ve got him trying and enjoying vegetables that he never knew existed. I taught him how to read the labels on products and got him in the habit of actually reading them before he buys something. I even got him to do a brown rice detox with me for five days.

But I hadn’t been able to get him to give up his whiskey entirely or at least mix it with something less toxic than Sprite. And I hadn’t been able to stop him from munching on cookies all night long when he gets up and sleepwalks to the fridge. And I hadn’t convinced him that chips and chocolate bars were not good snacks to munch on throughout the day at work.

Until now!

About a week and a half ago I introduced my hun to a new way of eating, the low-carb way. And he’s completely embraced it! He’s started using Diet 7-Up instead of Sprite as a mixer for his whiskey. He gave away all his processed packaged foods he always keeps on hand in his truck. We haven’t bought any cookies or chocolate bars. When he gets up in the middle of the night he snacks on tossed salad or left-overs from dinner. There is no bread in the house. And no potatoes! I’ve been making a faux mashed potato dish out of cauliflower that he really likes. The other night I introduced him to curry and he loved it! He’s eating chickpeas, even taking them in his lunch for work. This week we’re trying turkey bacon (that needs to grow on both of us). And probably most impressive of all … he’s started drinking water! So much so that we needed to buy him his own case of water for the truck.

Already my clothes are fitting the way they should and I’ve noticed his belly is starting to disappear.

Last night I made low-carb swiss steaks using some deer sirloin our neighbor gifted us awhile back. He loved it! Me, not so much, because I just can’t make myself like deer meat no matter how hard I try, but I ate a little anyway. There were plenty of leftovers for his lunch today. Tonight I’m baking chicken breasts in a low-carb cheese sauce. Tomorrow I might do a pork tenderloin.

It feels so good to get back to my way of eating and get away from some of the junk that I’ve been consuming recently. Hopefully he’ll continue to open himself up to trying new recipes and foods.

I guess the big news is that I got married. Yep! For real! I know I’ve always said I never would and even becoming engaged was really no guarantee that I’d ever go through with the ceremony, but on January 19th we eloped in Savannah, Georgia. Just me, Jay, and an elderly southern gentleman retired judge turned wedding chapel extraordinaire. As far as weddings go it wasn’t very pretty. We’d stayed an unplanned extra day, so we were both wearing yesterday’s clothes. Jeans, sneakers, me in that burgundy top that I don’t really like and him in an offensive Michael Vick t-shirt. We’d checked out of our hotel so quickly that we hadn’t even showered. We hadn’t gone to Savannah with the intention of getting married (well, at least I didn’t) so I hadn’t thought to bring the rings to exchange. The marriage was impulsive. We saw the chapel and just did it.

Yes, the wedding wasn’t very pretty, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. The dress, the flowers, the rings, even having family in attendance, none of that ever mattered to me. What mattered was standing with the love of my life, face to face, with him holding both my hands and me shivering, shaking from the enormity of this commitment, holding back tears as my heart felt like it would pummel through my chest because it couldn’t contain all my love, as he looked me in the eyes and promised that he’d love, honour, respect & cherish me for the rest of his life. And I knew for sure that he meant it. I knew for sure too that I meant it when I made the same promise to him. I knew with a certainty that I’ve never experienced before. And I still know. That’s all that mattered.

So what brings me back to the blog? Yesterday I was turned onto this fabulous website called 750 Words. So I logged in and I wrote over 750 words. And this morning I got an email encouraging me to log in again so I did and I wrote another 750 words. Then not satiated I turned to my blog. And here I am. Maybe I’ll be back tomorrow or next week. Maybe I won’t. But I will write 750 words for sure. And that’s a good thing I think.

I’ve been terribly lax in my blogging. It’s not that I have nothing to say, well, actually maybe I haven’t had much to say. I’ve been going through a lot of personal changes in my life and I’ve been in a time crunch trying to keep on top of everything, keep all the balls in the air.

It’s the first new year in a very long time that has come and gone without me having the urge to analyze the previous year and set new goals. 2009 was a bit strange as years go for me. It began with all kinds of energy & focus toward work & creativity. But really didn’t take long to derail. It seemed like every day that went by I lost more focus and energy toward work & creativity, but quite surprisingly the love & romance side of my life took off, soaring to new heights. I ended the year engaged to be married to the one true love of my life. This was beyond unexpected. I still pinch myself in case it’s all been a long dream.

It just goes to show that regardless of your intentions, the universe has a plan.

So I’m starting this year feeling a little scattered. I’m happy. I’m very very happy, but I don’t seem to have any intention for 2010. I don’t seem to be looking too far into the future. I’m enjoying the now. This is new & different & I’m not at all sure it’s wrong. Maybe it’s just what I’ve needed all along. I seem to be more productive at work. My home life is the best it’s ever been. The muse is tugging at my soul, fanning my creativity, sparking new stories.

So maybe this year it’s time to just let it ride. Let the universe take me where it will. Just wake up everyday and do the best I can minute to minute without looking too far in the future.

Where might I go?

What might I do?

And when will I leave?

Stay tuned …

Today has been long and tiring. I’ve finally started my spring cleaning. Yes, I’ve only been thinking about it for about a month now, but today was the day. I have a detailed plan of action, room by room, step by step.The plan is to do just one room per day, which should make the whole thing more manageable and not feel too overwhelming.

I decided to start with my office first for a couple of different reasons.

First, it’s pretty small, so I figured I could definitely do the whole thing in one shot and gain momentum from my sense of accomplishment. This worked! I am ready to push on to another room tomorrow!

Second, my office is my money corner in feng shui, so it’s important to keep it tidy and uncluttered so money will flow to me freely. Money is good! It makes me happy.

And third, I spend the majority of my time in this space, and if it’s cluttered or dirty or in any way out of sorts, then dammit so am I! And we can’t have that.

So today being a long weekend, a holiday Monday, I gave myself permission to get up and not turn the computer on (which is always the very first thing I do). Instead I sat at my bistro table in the morning sunshine (yes, there was some early today) and ate a slice of toast for a breakfast that I actually woke up feeling hungry for (which never happens) while I read a few pages from a novel I’ve been picking at for a couple of days now.

Then I visited the Wii Fit for the first time in 14 days. Isn’t it nice how he keeps track and lets me know he’s missed me?! I have lost 1.1 pounds since last I checked in. Which is okay since I’ve been doing nothing healthy in those 14 days absence. I didn’t do any of the aerobic or strength exercises because I knew I’d get a workout moving furniture around and scrubbing and stuff.

Instead I did one of the balance exercises that teaches you to find your zen and to be still. You sit crosslegged on the Wii and focus on a candle for three minutes. They try to distract you with footsteps, flying moths and changing the screen view. But I did really well. Four stars. And I felt focused at the end. Centred. Ready to tackle the room!

First I took everything out of the space and put it into the living room. I took all the pictures and calendar off the wall. I took down the curtains and put them in the wash. I had hoped to be able to rig something up for scrubbing the ceilings and walls, a wet rag on the end of the Swifter, but it wasn’t working for me so I went old school and scrubbed everything by hand. Amazingly I did not fall off the chair or wrench my back.

Disassembling and reassembling the computer was quite the chore in and of itself. I spent a good 45 minutes just cleaning the keyboard. Once I get started I’m a crazy perfectionist when it comes to these things.

If you’ve ever been to my place when the dust bunnies are taking hostages, perfectionist might not immediately spring to mind, but it’s true. I don’t seem to be able to do the middle of the road thing. I’m either all in or all out. I’ll go over something five times with three different types of cleaners to try and get the perfect sheen or finish. Be an absolute freak about it. Or I’ll go the exact opposite and won’t even try to clean something because I know it will consume me for days if I start. It’s obsessive compulsive or something. I’m not sure. It’s definitely not healthy or productive. Sometimes I’m able to function like a normal human being. But it’s challenging.

Anyway, I scrubbed everything and then put it all back together, which took about five hours. Kind of insane for a little room, but hey, I think it’s lovely. And I can go to bed knowing that black mark won’t come off, no matter what.

I decided to change the furniture around. I’ve put the desk directly in front of the window now. So I can look around my monitor and see the river. I can see the sky, watch the birds flying by. I’m facing outside. Today this worked because it was overcast, we’ll have to wait and see what happens when the sun comes out though. I was thinking more of evenings when I did it. Now that the weather is nice I leave my curtains open all evening so I can see the river. I thought this vantage point might be particularly inspiring. Plus, I just really needed to shake up the energy in this place. The old placement wasn’t doing it for me at all anymore.

I put my favourite chair and an end table in the corner along the wall where the computer used to be. The wine rack and phone stay where they were. The money corner is empty. I’ve got telephone wire running along the floor. I tried to tape it, but that hasn’t worked. And it looks terrible. Need to find a better way to deal with that. Another plus is that I can easily get to the back of my computer now to plug in stuff, which was an issue before.

So overall, I’m kinda loving it and I’m feeling very optimistic and energized, even though the rest of the house is still a freaking mess.

Tomorrow, I tackle the kitchen which includes cleaning the oven. I’m opting to try baking soda out for that job, rather than a chemical oven cleaner. Because the last time I cleaned an oven using one of those sprays I kinda sorta poisoned myself. It wasn’t good. So, I’ll try the more natural method first … and of course I’ll be running out to the store to buy more cleaners if I can’t get it to a perfectly beautiful state, because that’s what I do.

I can see four cylinder-like posts sticking about six inches out of the ground scattered throughout the grass to form a large square. My ex jogs to the centre of the square and takes something out of his jean jacket pocket. A remote. A detonator. Oh my God! He’s gonna blow it up! Right now!

I turn to run in the opposite direction and see an army tank charging down the street toward me. I freeze with no place to go. The tank pulls up beside me, a door opens and a hand is thrust out at me. “Get in! Hurry!” And Jack Bauer (ie. celebrity guest star, Kiefer Sutherland in the role of Jack Bauer) pulls me into the tank, sealing us in, just as I hear a loud explosion and look through the window to see my ex dancing around with a crazy smile, waving his arms in the air as a white powder shoots from the cylinders and rains down on everything.

“What is it?” I whisper.

“Cocaine,” Jack Bauer says with a grim nod.

My ex climbs onto the front of the tank, is banging his fist on the bulletproof glass slit of a window screaming my name. “White gold, Kel! White gold! We’re rich!” His eyes are almost black because his pupils are so huge and they shine like glass. His nostrils are red raw and starting to blister. His lips are starting to crack and bleed. He’s talking so fast I can’t understand what he’s saying anymore.

“Oh my God!” I shudder. “What’s happening to him?”

I look to Jack Bauer for answers, but the seat next to me is empty. He’s gone as suddenly as he appeared. And then the tank starts moving forward, seemingly all of its own. And I can hear the gun being swung around. And I’m chasing my ex in a runaway tank through a cocaine rain as he dodges shots that miss him and blow up trees, cars, an ice cream stand and a merry-go-round.

I wake up with a raging sinus headache.

And what will the latter part have in store? Will I retain all my faculties or will I lose my mind? That is always the big question. Because you know my thought process automatically goes from turning 40 to turning 80. Because yes, it might have seemed like a slow long beginning but it’s a rush to the finish now isn’t it.

Must try harder! Must eat more brain food! (whatever that is these days) Must become more active so I’m not bed bound in my old age! Must get healthy, wealthy and wise! Must start doing all the things I always say I want to do and then put off until tomorrow! Must! Must! Must!

Though I’ll be quite honest, there is part of me that wants to sell everything I own and move to Paris where I will once again take up smoking and serious drinking while collecting a harem of lovers and writing the novel that will be the crowning glory of my life’s work.  It’s a thought. Well, except for the Paris bit, which has been done to death already and really has never called to me as a city … I do wonder if it would work just as well in Dublin.

It’s a warm day here, sunshine, a bit hazy, but I had to close the windows because the wind was driving me crazy. The flapping curtains threatened to snap right off the rod. Incessant wind chimes aren’t soothing. At times it felt like the whole picture window would be blown back into my apartment. So I shut the windows. But still there’s the wind. And I don’t like it.

I had been sitting there for about 10 minutes when a man joined me. He said hello and started talking about “up home” as if he knew me, but I didn’t immediately recognize him. And after he talked for a bit I realized he didn’t recognize me either, he thought I was a town girl, though I had already figured out who he was and where I remembered him from …

It was the late 1990′s, early to mid fall. I know this because I was having a problem with mice and I always had a rodent problem in the fall. The evenings were dark earlier and cool enough to have the windows closed but not cool enough to fork out the extra cash and run the big propane heaters.

I remember T came in and he was barefoot in sandals still and I shivered because I thought it was too cold for summer footwear and I wondered what he’d wear when it snowed. As it turned out I spent a lot of time with him that winter and while I do indeed recall early snow squalls in barefeet, eventually a pair of army boots materialized.

It was early in the week, with no customers, and I was sitting at the table by the bar having a beer and smoking. I hadn’t heard a car drive in, which wasn’t surprising because T’s car was compact and quiet, and he often seemed to sneak up on me when I least expected. I looked up as he sauntered in, his hands thrust deep into his front pockets. The door closed but was immediately opened and an older man followed in behind him.

T would turn up alone anytime after 2am, but quite often had an entourage earlier in the evening, mismatched groups of casual acquaintances whose only common ground was the white powder they snorted through rolled five dollar bills.

He’d show up alone in the wee hours when the drugs and money were gone. And we’d paint the walls, or play every song on the jukebox and dance, or go for long drives on dirt roads back in the woods, until the sun would be high in the sky the next afternoon and we could finally stay still long enough to pretend to sleep for a few hours, before starting all over again.

We weren’t dating. Though we tried, often and with great enthusiasm, we weren’t much as lovers go because the drugs took a physical toll. I don’t know if you could call us friends. We were companions. We kept company with each other. And for a few seasons that was good and all we needed or wanted.

So when T showed up early in the evening, I wasn’t surprised to see a buddy with him. I wasn’t surprised that it was a buddy I’d never met. And I wouldn’t have been surprised if I never saw that particular buddy again. That’s just the way T rolled.

T sat across from me at the table and his buddy stood behind him, leaning against the bar. His buddy talked a lot. He never shut up. He just went on and on. And his conversation was bizarre. All about where he had lived and who his family was and when he’d got back and how much money he made and how successful he was and what a good man he was …

T’s eyes locked onto mine at one point and they were laughing and puzzled at the same time, his dimples seeming to exclaim, “OH … MY … GAWD!” Every now and then T would manage to interject and ask a question that was so obviously designed to provoke this man to further talk about himself just so T could laugh behind his back and make fun. And his buddy seemed oblivious, was more than pleased to continue talking about his accomplishments and money.

A long and bizarre two hours passed, with me wondering how on earth T could have put up with this guy all day, even if he did have tons of money and was buying armloads of drugs. There wasn’t enough beer in the cooler for me to drink to be able to numb myself enough to hang out with this guy much longer.

Then all of a sudden he stood a little straighter, looked at me and asked if I was the girl who owned the place. I nodded and he proceeded to tell me that he had everything in his life except a woman. So he was looking for a woman and the boys (V&A) had told him I was sexy, single and successful and he should come right out and get me.

I thought T’s blue eyes were gonna pop out of his head. I knew immediately that V&A had been playing a horrible joke on me and also this poor schmuck whose head was so full of himself that he had no idea. I spluttered that I wasn’t available in the most diplomatic way that I could, and he shrugged and left as quickly as he had arrived confident that I was a silly girl who obviously couldn’t grasp what a great opportunity had just presented itself. My loss entirely!

T and I busted out laughing as soon as he was gone. “I thought he was your buddy!” I exclaimed. “No, I thought you must’ve known him!” We would talk about that evening for weeks afterward, collapsing into fits of giggles.

Yesterday, this guy sat beside me in the waiting room and started talking about himself. And within 20 seconds I figured out who he was and knew he didn’t recognize me. Luckily within 45 seconds my name was called for my turn.

As I fled the waiting room I heard him exclaim, “Oh! I didn’t know her until I heard her name!”

I would like to explain my absence by saying that I have been consumed by other writing … but unfortunately that would be a lie. I’ve had a lot going on, but I haven’t been consumed with any other other writing.

While I think it started on a very subconscious level, this break has been more the result of me taking time to reassess what it is that I hope to accomplish here.

My blog used to be my dumping ground, where all those stray thoughts– truth, fiction, the good, the bad, the downright horrific–would congregate. I never worried about how my personal rantings and ravings might reflect upon my more professional work as an editor and journalist. I was never concerned about how my feelings at any given time might affect my loved ones. And when I began to consider these things … my voice shrank.

Suddenly it didn’t seem to be the right thing to vent about how much much my life sucked or to post disturbing dark fiction that might be taken as truth. I mean I’m the face of a positive outlook magazine, my life should be a bed of roses. Right? And in the past four months my life has become increasingly intertwined with another life … how to continue to talk about myself without mentioning him? Because he certainly hasn’t signed up to living out loud online.

And the more I considered these things, the less I had to say.

I told a friend the other day that I felt silenced, stifled. And we both agreed that it was obviously not doing me any good. I can’t hold things inside. It’s not healthy. I am a person who needs the release of writing. Even if nobody reads. Even if I just write it down and immediately afterward burn the paper or hit delete.

Someone else posted to my twitter account, “all we get is the occasional blip now and that’s all?” Another friend sent me an email with the subject line “what? no blogging?” I know I’m in trouble when people start wondering where I’ve gone.

So here I am! Hopefully getting ready to crank this puppy up again and start blogging. And what better day to begin than Tuesday, my new number one favourite day of the week. I kid you not. I know Sunday has been my favourite day since 1994 when it became the good day because it was the hang-over day, but lately … I haven’t been feeling the Sunday. It used to be that I would love the day, then suffer all night with Sunday Night Anxiety. Still, the anxiety, bad as it was, never seemed to be bad enough to ruin the beauty of the day … until recently. It’s not that the Sunday Night Anxiety has worsened, it’s actually not that intense, I’ve experienced worse. But it starts a lot earlier and lasts much longer.

Monday is generally a manic blur of recovery. I don’t know that I actually get a lot finished, but I start a lot of stuff. A LOT OF STUFF! But then Tuesday arrives and I start to slow down, settle into the groove, and feel the love. Figuratively love. Literally love. My mood has been pretty fantastic on recent Tuesdays, I must say. It’s unusual, but it is what it is.

Today, I finally got all my documentation together to make my passport application, went by Service NB and submitted it. I was surprised by how excited I was afterward. When she stamped everything and said it looked good and I’d get everything in the mail in a few weeks. A passport has been on my list for so long. For so very long. Where will I go? Anywhere I want. Wow!