Clams

In case you're interested in why I picked Free-Range Clam over some of the other options...
Free-Range implies slutty, which I aspire to, and describes my parenting style.
Clam is... well, a clam - always good in a sport dominated by lesbian women.  I can hint that I might swing that way and fit in with the cool kids.  Also reflective of my emotional ability, according to some/many.

During the year, the free-range clam tends to stay close to it's own territory, though will occasionally venture into the west end in search of a mate.  During the summer, however, the free-range clam lives up to it's name and wanders all over the countryside.

The free-range clam has been known to slam it's potential mate repeatedly against a hard object to determine his suitability.  It seems obvious that the clam is selecting for hardy genes, although this behavior has also been noted in clams outside the reproductive age.  The clam seems somewhat bloodthirsty as it will often, in the throes of mating passion,  ingest the blood it has drawn..

Am home nursing snot bubbles, trying to kick this stupid chest thing before a. I go on vacation and b. I lose my mind.  Isn't it weird how my doctor will give me a prescription for antibiotics over the phone, based on a few questions the receptionist asks, while some won't even refill a Rx for insulin needles?  My doctor will also see you the same day if you want, while hers takes six weeks for an appointment.  D'ya think you might die in those six weeks?  I think there should be common standards.  When I rule the world things will be better.

Six hours, six days, six weeks, six months.

Momentous

On the advice of my trusted adviser, Dr. Morrison, I ended it with dude today.  It was mutual.  We both recognized it was not viable as is.  Both equally reluctant to end it.  Both knew we had to.  I'd been pushing and pushing and he was so kind and good natured about it, but in the end he was right.  We're done.

On a note that will send Dr. Morrison through the roof, we agreed to get back in touch (if I want to) in six months and see how things stand.  I find that reassuring.  Not that he'll be there waiting for me all fixed and available, or that I will be waiting.  Just... reassuring. 

He is a truly lovely man and I am so sad and sorry that things couldn't work out.  God, I've tried so hard and waited so long for someone like him and then when I do find him, he's "unavailable".  Fix your baggage dude and lets move on.

In other news:

I am now Free-Range Clam #666.  It's not the most popular choice but I love it.

Old and new

Wow, this has been a fabulous week.  I came to the conclusion today that it would be better to just accept the fact that my mom is somewhat defective in the parenting department and move on.  It's too late to fix this puppy.  I don't think she ever really had much interest in her children beyond grooming them into the sort of people who she could talk about in those damn christmas letters without embarrassment.  Needless to say, she didn't do those sort of letters for long.  She seems to feel the same sort of remoteness for her grandkids, surprise.  She was never one to bundle up the baby and snuggle for hours just because she wanted to - more like she would come and do it because it was her duty.  And she let you know. 

I find this very sad and really hope I'm not like this.  I don't think so.  God knows I have my issues but I hope this isn't one of them.

On an unrelated (?) topic, I find the quality of the friendships I've cultivated in the last 10 years (actually I think I can carbon date the start of this to when steve left)  is much better that it used to be.  Sure I have old friends, but in general those were... not particularly equal or healthy relationships.  These days my friends are amazing people.  I would ask them for the world if I had to (OK it would still be an effort, but I could do it)  and give it right back to them when they needed it.  Yes, I'm a moody, cranky, intolerant bitch.  I wonder why anyone puts up with me?  Regardless I am truly grateful and I would never (knowingly - I was drunk!) stand them up for anything.  Blah blah blah.  What's the point of this?  I dunno - I'm depressed and need to find something good in my life?  It's a challenge.


More positively - I went to the finals last night expecting to be a grunt volunteer.  I wanted to watch the game.
 since I figure it would be good.  And it was.

However, I got sucked into doing stats which is somewhat less than low stress.  In fact, I was penalty wrangler, which meant  listening to the refs and transmitting their calls to the penalty tackers.  Which I'd never done before. And did I mention it was the FINALS???  Har.  So me and my crazy ass dress + groovin' pink NSO shirt spent the entire game tripping around in circles after the refs.  I somehow managed  not to fuck up completely, much to my everlasting relief.  AND THE CHICKS WON!  I am SO pleased.  I lave me some Chicks.  And the Gores, but they usually annihilate everyone.  The Chicks have really come into their own this season.  (Did I mention this is on Rogers next weekend?  Must find someone with cable to let me see it.  I hear the game was awesome.  All I saw were the refs.  Who are awesome too.)

New derby name:  Free-Range Clam.  Appropriately trashy, somewhat sexually ambiguous.  What more could I ask for??

Day 6 of "thinking".  I'm losing hope.  I can't believe I lasted this long.  Hope/blind optimism/stupidity springs eternal in my wasted emotional shell.

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick

That is all.

Relativity

How long is "time"?  Sound pretty open-ended to me. 

Spidey Senses: 1

Dude and I had this looooong discussion last night where he unburdened himself of lots of baggage... to what purpose, I'm not sure.  To make me understand him?  I don't.

Dude needs TIME.  God, I've heard that before.  I couldn't even bring myself to ask how much time he thinks he might need to decide whether I was worth fitting into his life, which is what it boils down to.  He can say he's confused till the cows come home but what dude doesn't just go for what they want if they want it?  It all just screams backing away at warp speed.  I must be really great in bed.

I am not going though this train wreck again.  One day of sobbing into my keyboard is pretty much as much as I can take, and my hair hasn't finished growing back from last time.  (Hmmm ...think what a supermodel I'd be if I lost another 50 lbs, though).  My bullshit meter is going off like a mad thing.  Nobody avoids a relationship because they're worried they'll hurt someone - it happens all the time and people get hurt and move on.  C'est la vie.  Me invading your space?  Being too demanding?  All those are reasonable (and probably much more valid) reasons.  So man up and say what the problem really is.

Speaking of, you'd think being all (relatively) thin and fit would have made a difference to the quality of my sex/relationship life.  Nope.  Not. At. All.  I find this completely disappointing.  I guess before I could have blamed my perennially single status on the size of my ass, but now what?  I guess it really is my stellar personality.  How depressing.  Yes, I like it for it's own sake, because I feel better and my clothes fit better and I'm more comfortable but really - it's not life changing.  Which sucks.

I want a Big Mac.

It's my blog and I'll angst if I want to.

Oh boy. 

Yes, I'm at work.  No, I can't concentrate.

I'm trying really hard not to give in to the feeling of impending doom that is lurking.  Yes, I know I have a long history of denial.  So what, I should change now?

It's been about 24 hours since he left my bed (OK, more like 28, but who's counting?).  When he got home he sent me a text saying good things and ambiguous things which I'm not going to go into.  In general, positive.  Or so I thought.  I sent him an email later that afternoon with the info for next Sat's derby bout in it.  Nothing.  Nothing at all.

OK, I don't know what his policy is on returning emails.  Generally it hasn't been very snappy despite his obvious interest.  But... what?  I wait.  I HATE waiting.  I am not a patient person and my imagination in the interim is a terrible force to be reckoned with.

Has he decided I'm going to ask too much of him?  He's probably right.  We did discuss this in the lead up to him staying the night and it seemed OK but who knows in the light of day how he'll feel.  He promised he wouldn't Houdini. ( Just writing this makes me laugh.  It's the internet, where promises mean less than nothing.  But I believed him.)

It's just that it was so perfect.  So perfect.  So much chemistry.  So much to talk about.   And he was so obviously... well whatever.   Why does everyone have to have plans, expectations, agendas?  Can't you just go with it?  I guess one person's going with it can be perceived and something entirely different to another.

I want to believe you, and so I do, just for tonight.  Thanks Alison Krauss

You're going to break my heart, dude.

What number is this? Eight?

D'you know what the problem with dating when you a hundred and two like I am is?  Your friends get pretty sick and tried of your rhapsodizing/complaining/sobbing/angsting.  Back when you're young and silly and all your friends are young and silly there's a whole host of people willing to play the dating game with you:

- Do you think he's cute?
- OMG he's totally cute and he totally likes you.  I can totally tell.
- Do you think so?  I thought he liked Jenny.
- No way man.  Jenny's totally ancient history.  And Matt told Karl who told Suzi who told me that he's totally into you.
- What if he doesn't call me?  Should I call him?  Should I text him 100x an hour unitl he calls me?
- He'll call you.  He was totally into you.  But don't call him.  It'll make you look like you like him.

etc. etc. etc.

While teenage girls can do this with no apparent limit, grown ups cannot.  While they act supportive and willing to listen to your stories, the inner eyerolling is hard to disguise.

So of my epic 12 hour date I have one thing to say:  Drywall 1:  Wallpaper 0.  And that's a good thing :)

Testus Interruptus

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Didn't get the testing finished because we ran out of time and I couldn't stay but

YAY!

All I can say is that the testing committee in general was so helpful, supportive and clear about their expectations.  Moni Chrome in particular rocks my world.  I love her.

I.  Did.  The.  Cones.  

They gave us 6 tries, not 3.  The first try I did them all and then just missed the last one.  I thought that was all I was going to do.  Tries 2-5 sucked the hairy one. Then, on try #6, I did them ALL.  OK, I ran over the last one but they gave me a 2!!!!  I could not have been more thrilled and happy.  I think it was sheer force of will that got me through those cones.  I tend to get pissy when I start fucking up and things go downhill from there, but they were so encouraging that I did it.  Yay me!

The rest of the test was unremarkable except tfor the good feeling, camaraderie and support form the other dskjaters and the testers.  It made it fun, not stressful.  Except for the plow stop.  But I think I got a 1 even on that.  My hits sort of sucked but I didn't fall on my ass, gave and got a few good ones so I should be OK.

I'll have to finish the testing later, maybe Jul 10.  I'll be at the cottage but it will be worth the trip to get er done.  It's only moving around the track and endurance, neither of which I'm worried about and then I'll be a WFTDA skater!!!!!!!

I'm a wee bit bummed about the lack of completion but totally riding the high!

Bare minimum

I figure I should talk about this today.  Tomorrow might be messy...

Tomorrow I make a mighty attempt to pass the WFTDA minimum skills test.  These are *minimum* skills, designed not to make you a great derby player, but to stop you hurting yourself or others when out on the track learning to be a great derby player.  Some are sensible - weaving through the pack, avoiding sudden obstacles, skating next to people, being bumped etc etc.  Some seem pretty arbitrary - hits and whips?  Should these be part of *minimum* skills?  I don't know.  I can see both viewpoints.  Weaving through cones on one leg is the one that's going to bite me in the ass.  If I spend a hour warming up, doing it over and over, I can usually manage a somewhat acceptable approximation of the weave.  Today at practice was a fucking joke.  OK, the were too close together, but I couldn't even do every second one.  I was prepared to take a zero on this, but you can't get a zero.  On anything.  Fuck.  I guess I shall have to try and find a time space to warm myself up and hope to god the winds are blowing in my favour.  I don't want to fail on that alone.

Har - there are SO many things I could fail on.  Plow stops, hip checks (giving - I can take a moderate one just fine), jumping, ohmygod the jumping.  I mananged it today by gluing my eyes on the Chicks sign that was directly across on the opposite wall but I think that was a miracle.  Throw in some stress and I may well end up on my ass.

Fresh Meat was somewhat of a cluster-fuck, if you ask me.  Too disorganized, no one seemed to know what the ultimate goal was.  Shouldn't they have been concentrating on teaching us the things we need to know to pass the test?  Some things we didn't do even ONCE (yes I'm talking about you, jumping from foot to foot while moving).  Nobody talked at ALL about skate adjustment and that is MANDATORY for things like weaving.  If you trucks are fucked you can't do it at all - it's like trying to bend a fork with your mind and Kreskin I am not.  My trucks were so tight I couldn't turn at all - AT ALL - and I gnashed my teeth about my complete lack of skill for AGES.  When Coach Paulie swapped my cushions and adjusted my trucks it was like a choir of angels was singing in my head.  I looked down, shifted my weight and the wheels TURNED like I had a steering wheel.  Halle fucking lujah.  Ya thing we could have covered this in the first few weeks?  Sigh.  Seems to be in better hands now but it's too late for us Freshies.

Speaking of stress... lets discuss my mother.  As we all know, she has not been very supportive of my derby aspirations from the get-go.  Roller blading as she STILL calls it.  It seems irrelevant to her that it's fun, social, excellent exercise and makes me SO happy.  I have NEVER done organized sport and have been a couch potato for most of my adult life.  You would think she would be delighted to see me getting off my fat ass and doing something.  But no.  As best I can tell, the problem is that derby is not a socially acceptable activity.  One step up from cockfighting, as she said (and has been oft quoted!).  God forbid she has to tell her friends what her dear daughter does for fun.  Seriously?  When is she going to get over this?

So this weekend is our final test, plus we had a practice today and I was supposed to volunteer for a game tonight.  I asked her if she'd do Saturday instead of Sunday since it was basically the whole day.  Nope.  That, apparently, was too much to ask.  Too much to ask a grandparent to look after her youngest grandchildren.  In contrast, the kids down the street (all four of them) were left with their grandparents overnight.  Why me?  Why do I get the grinchy grandmother?

So my stress level was through the roof this week.  On Thursday I basically begged Carolyn to look after the boys for the four hours today.  She semi-reluctantly volunteered her husband, but only I asked directly and said I was desperate.  Paul was great, completely unphased and I owe him huge.

So - tomorrow.  Will I pass?  Will I flame out?  Will I just fail by a whisker (which would be even worse)?  I hold out high hope for Miko, Michelle (wishes for Melinda's speedy recovery!) and the portugese princess, but me not so much.  Too old, too timid, to cautious.

In reality I don't have the time for the level of commitment ToRD demands.  I don't want to be a derby superstar but I do want to play.  I want to do more and more until skating is like biking is for me - a natural reflexive activity that I don't even have to think about.  Then I can hit, dodge, deke and feint like it's meant to be.  THAT's the fun stuff.  The game.  So I want to pass.  Yes, I can go to elsewhere and probably get in with little problem, but I'd rather pass the stupid test and keep my options open.

However, if I fail the written test I will be devastated.  I'm an academic, not a jock.  I've studied this stuff more than anyone I know.  I WANT to pass the written.  I'm going to bawl regardless of what I fail but I'm going to feel like a real loser if I fail the written.  I'm kinds glad I have the kids so I don't have to worry about bailing out of celebratory activities.  They're my derby gals, they rock my world.  I've never met such an awesome, positive, supportive bunch who tolerate my moods and crustiness, but still.  Sometimes you just gotta hole up and lick your wounds alone.

I am looking forward to a free weekend, though.