*GROWL*

WARNING: THERE WILL BE EXCESSIVE USE OF THE WORD “FUCK” IN THIS POST. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY THE WORD “FUCK” PLEASE STOP FUCKING READING. I hate Mondays and I hate mornings. My morning began at 2:00 a.m. when upon going to bed discovered my delightful son had crawled into MY fucking bed, sans me, of course, as I was busy jamming out to Napster and beading, and had wet MY fucking bed. Nate still has a problem with nocturnal wetness and boy did he piss a fucking flood. *Growl* I had finally worked myself to fucking exhaustion on the fucking car and the fucking beading and all I was looking forward to was going to fucking bed, only to find my son swimming in a sea of fucking urine which most fucking delightfully will have now soaked all the way through to the fucking floor. *Growl* I know he cannot help this but this did not stop me from being fucking irritated as cranky bitch on her period.... oh yeah, which I started yesterday. *Growl* After having mopped up the best I could and having sprayed the fucking mattress with Shout, and spreading fucking towels, which were fucking clean, but now are fucking dirty, which means I will have to fucking wash them again! *Growl* Normally, when I start said fucking red curse of hell and damnation, it takes a while for it to get going so I was unprepared at nine fucking thirty this morning to already have a major crisis on my hands. *Growl* Fuck. Then, I had to go pay my fucking property taxes, which is a fucking racket if you ask me. Thank you fucking government for punishing me for being able to afford a car and a house and anything else you can fucking tax! 120 fucking dollars just to pay the fucking taxes and the license fee. Fucking racket. *Growl* I went by the shop and no one was there. I said, “Fuck it. Not going in” But, now, I wish I had gone it because I’m fucking missing a vial of beads. *Growl* Did I mention it is fucking hot? 82 fucking degrees at 9:45. *Growl* So, I get home and attempt to fucking bead, which normally calms me down, only to find the beads I had bought were translucent instead of opaque and, while pretty, just don’t go with the other bead I wanted them to go with. So, I used another bead, fucking starting over again, discovering, as mentioned above, that I was missing a vial of fucking beads. I doubt they are at the shop. They are probably in my fucking car, which looks like a fucking dumpster right now. Nate and I decide we need food, so it’s off to fucking Taco Hell, where we sit in the fucking heat for over 15 minutes only to get the wrong fucking order. With drive time, wait time, and fuck up time, 45 fucking minutes of my life wasted on Taco Hell. Then I didn’t like the fucking food. I hate being on my period during the summer. I feel fucking dirty ALL. THE. TIME. YUCK! I’m fucking done now. Back to beading. Bzzzzzt!

Sunday, Friday, Saturday - A Weekend in Peachville

Well, lost almost a whole day of beading pleasure due to the fact my car said, “Bitch, if you don’t fix me, I’m just not going to run anymore.” I hate it when that happens. Off I go to my local Advanced Auto to pick up a fuel filter. I’ve never changed a fuel filter before, but I have now. Start car, runs better, test drive, hmmmmmm. . . still hesitating. . . this is bad. Let’s put fucking expensive ass high test gas in it. No, didn’t help much. Let’s see, the last time I changed the fuel filter was the same time I changed the spark plugs and wires which was. . . 2004. Given my penchant for electrical shit to just not last around me, which is what I told the lady at Advanced Auto on my 2nd trip, I figured this would be a good opportunity to switch them out and see if this fixed the problem. When I told the lady at Ad. Auto this, she asked me to hold my left palm over her left palm and when I did she looked up at me with wide eyes. Obviously this lady is a force reader and the force is with me. She said, “People think I’m crazy,” I nodded, “I know.” “Do you know that some people just don’t have that. . . that. . .” “Life energy? The force?” I offered. Her eyes lit up and she smiled, “Yes! The force!” I nodded. Now, my car is sitting in front of my house with the hood up, cooling off so I can attempt to not kill myself or short circuit the electrical system. I’ll be back (hopefully) to let you know how that goes. *BZZZZZT!* . . . A short time later in Peachville Well, I didn’t get the plugs changed because I don’t have the correct tools and I only got one wire changed but hey, my car is running and sounds better than it has for five or six weeks. Knowing my luck I’ll get up in the morning and the car won’t start or sound like it did this morning, then I will have to lay my hands on it again. That seems to help. Something about “the force.” Anyway, Friday night I spent four hours at the shop alone working on getting my beads organized. I’m not even halfway finished. Yesterday I spent time at Wal*Mart and the shop. Here’s the deal. After T-Bird’s aunt passed away a few years back, T-Bird inherited a bedspread and curtains in . . . a bright red velvety sorta material. T-Bird felt she should gift this to me so I could make something out of it IF I also made her something. Fair enough I say. So, when I started talking about this purse project for Beadwork magazine, T-Bird piped up that she wanted a cigar box purse too. I have since changed my mind about the cigar box and am going with a “coal” theme for the purse for Beadwork magazine but did start on the T-Bird one. I have a design crafted into the material that I cut from the bottom of one of the curtains and that’s about it. So, that leaves me with a big bedspread and 1 3/4 full length curtains. In red. Oh yeah, the possibilities are endless... uh huh. That is, until I got this bright red idea to make a cloak out of said material. Hence the trip to Wal*Mart to pick up a pattern and thread and a few needles and then a stop at another local textile store where I picked up the tracing paper and that wheel thingy and a gold frog and saw a drunk with dreadlocks hit said textile building, almost drive his car through the window of convenience store and the ensuing fire truck, ambulance, and four police cars. This is up from the one police car at a fender bender on my way to Wal*Mart and still up from the fire truck, ambulance, and two police cars I saw Friday night when some gentleman drove his truck head first into a telephone pole. Never a dull moment. Bzzzt. So, I got to the shop and swept the floor and spread out the material and the pattern and did all the things that one should do and sweated and cursed and sang along with the radio and showed off my beadwork to the Computer Guy and his associate and twiddled my thumbs while he met with a client who had the audacity to step on my material which was on the floor since none of the tables were big enough. Then I had to go home and get the 3/4 curtain and something to eat and finally around 7:30 I pieced together what I had just to see if it looked normal or anywhere close to that and it did and I came home, fed the cats, fed the remaining living kitten (Cali, she is SO CUTE and lucky to be alive), and started beading and watching “Cold Case Files.” This was short lived as AZ called at about 9:20 and was at my house by 9:30 and we had porch time which was nice except the mosquitoes were bad. I knew he had gone to the Girlfriend’s brother’s birthday celebration an hour and a half away and I also knew that while he likes said brother, he didn’t really want to go and when I questioned as to why he couldn’t just get together with said brother for lunch as said brother works in our town he grumbled and mumbled about the Girlfriend pestering him (insisting... uhhhh... whatever) that he go. So, upon his return to town he ditches Girlfriend, stops for some liquid courage and ends up on my porch, with my arms wrapped around him, and his arms wrapped around mine, holding hands. That didn’t sound real good, did it? Don’t answer that. He didn’t stay long though, like I said, mosquitoes were bad and so was the state of my house, so off he went and I went back to beading. And then it was Sunday, which started this post. Amen.

New Beadwork

Picture Jasper - I love this piece. This is a prototype brooch, I'm getting ready to make a few more, just different. This is a choker I made for the celtic pendant that Troy bought me many moons ago. A bracelet made from Swarovski pearls. From the "Works in Progress" Files - They greys. AZ's computer guy asked for a grey necklace for his girlfriend, so, these are the two things I have worked on so far. This piece is done in four shades of size 15's (very, very small beads) and Swarovski's. And the most recent victim of "Can Only Make One Syndrome." The only thing difficult for me to do twice or three times, earrings. I have this horrible habit of only making one. I wish I didn't have to make them the same. That is all for now.

I Just HAD to Open My Mouth

Didn't I? Jeff decided to have a few drinks before I picked Nate up and it got real ugly, real fast. I hate drunks. I cannot tolerate alcoholics when they’re drinking. I don’t care anymore who it is. And I especially hate mean, blaming, belligerent drunks. Now, Jeff wants me to give Nate to him for a year. Right. I told him to fuck off. The man is sitting there drunk. He is slurring his words at 5:30 in the evening. Goddess only knows what else he had on top of that booze. See, I’m not Mother of the Year by any stretch of the imagination. I know this. My house could stand to be a hell of lot cleaner. Jeff wanted to throw shit on me about Nate and school. I told him that I was the reason that Nate even got to fourth grade. Me. Because he, Jeff, as you all know, WALKED AWAY. I told him that. I said, “You.walked.away. I told him I was not taking his shit and the conversation was over. Then he got in my face, blah, blah, blah, blah, and I told him, “No, I’m not perfect, but neither are you, but I don’t see me mentioning that.” Then he tried to get me to touch him in some way so he could cry battery and get a DVP against me but I walked away. He tried to say, “Look at how you’re acting in front of your son!” Oh, right, I’m being verbally attacked, he’s bullying me, forcing me backwards, and he’s drunk. Yeah, I’m the bad influence. For someone who wants to have his son for an entire year. . . funny, he’s only asked to have Nate for one week this summer. Nate asked for an additional two days when his sister was there. Granted, Jeff sees Nate everyday, or so I’m told, since I’ve also been told Jeff naps a lot during the day, but no, he hasn’t asked for exclusive time, meaning, I don’t pick Nate up in the evenings. Additionally, he said I don’t spend any time with Nate. Funny. . . pool trips, movies, dinner every evening, sometimes I bead on the bed while Nate watches TV or plays a video game, sometimes, lo and behold, I read blogs and I write and I bead somewhere else, normally at my desk, and I may even talk on the phone to an adult who isn’t drunk! He pisses me off. Oh, and AZ and I are fine. He’s continually amazed by my beading skills and today we worked on an ad for the shop. We may be taking a one day Quickbooks class together in August. But I forgot to remind him about it. Must do that tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better. Pics soon of my new beadwork.

Two Memories

I wrote this about a week ago and didn't get a chance to post it so it can be the fill in for today I felt as thought my Fourteen Years War (hereinafter “FYW”) Saga was kind of a downer and negative. Especially since I’ve actually had extremely good times with both AZ and Jeff. Thought I would share two such memories with you. One night, Jeff and I were driving around (that’s called a “Drive Around Date” in WV) and the song “Renegade” by Styx came on the radio. If you’re not familiar with it, it starts with a harmony of singers and a light drum beat. Oh mama I'm in fear for my life From the long arm of the law Lawman has put an end to my running And I'm so far from my home Oh mama I can hear you a crying You're so scared and all alone Hangman is coming down from the gallows And I don't have very long Then there is a high pitched, screaming type “YEAH!” Since I sing along with every song on the radio, this was no exception. What I wasn’t expecting was Jeff to contribute the “YEAH!” I jumped out of my skin then we both started laughing. I still love that song and I think of Jeff every time I hear it. Then, one night when I went to a local bar and grill, I was chatting up the owner’s wife, a somewhat ditzy coke addict with an additional alcohol problem. AZ came behind the bar and we smiled at each other. She asked, “Do you know each other?” Without waiting for an answer, she said, “Oh, Inanna this is AZ, AZ this is Inanna. She makes jewelry.” AZ and I shook hands. I said, “It’s nice to meet you, AZ.” He said, “It’s nice to meet you, Inanna.” Both of smiling like Cheshire Cats. We laughed long and hard about that later. I still laugh about it especially considering on one of my trips last year I ended beside of her on a plane. We had time to catch a drink in Charlotte before our connecting flights (at 3:00 or 4:00 in the evening). I think she had three Bloody Mary's in 20 minutes. I gave her some beads to share with her daughters. I need to tell AZ about that. Keep meaning to... just keep forgetting.

I am . . . ELECTROGIRL!

My car has been acting up and I’m betting it is something that I have already had fixed that shouldn’t be broken already. I looked for arcing and sparks under the hood which would indicate trouble with the spark plug wires but naturally when I popped the hood and gunned the engine the damn thing acted like it was ready to race the Indy 500 until of sputtering and clicking and missing like it has been for the past five weeks. When I change the channel on the radio, I use the little buttons that I have my stations saved to, if I don’t, when I turn the station knob, it just fucks up my radio. It takes me twice as long to tune my radio with the knob than if I just hit a button because the stupid radio simply will not tune when I turn the knob. Stupid radio. I bought a new watch face today and then proceeded to waste an hellavu lotta time trying to make a chain mail watchband to go with it. It has taken longer to figure out chain mail then the watch will probably last. Also, I have yet to figure out chain mail. Pretty, tough, pretty damn tough, maybe tomorrow. Regardless, I do not have high hopes for said watch. I will most likely bead a standard two or three drop peyote band tomorrow, embellish it, and call it a day. Not only do watches die on me in a relatively short period of time, battery replacement does no good. When the watch dies, it is dead, never to be resurrected. We had a horrible, but welcome, thunderstorm on Friday night. The sweltering temps were driving me batty. It moved in fast and hit hard. Kind of like the thunderstorm described in my “Distortion by Thunderstorm” posts, except, it moved faster. A bolt of lightening came dangerously close to my house. Close enough that I could feel the static electricity from it all over my body and the lights dimmed very, very low. Close enough that, instinctively, I ducked. I feel as though had I not been home, it would have fried everything on the east side of my house, which is the important side of the house. TV, cable box, computer, air conditioner, refrigerator, freezer, and alarm clock, all on the east side of the house. Eh, who cares about the alarm clock. I have a hard time with compasses. Street lights blink off and on. Ask Troy, he is a bona fide skeptical witness. We were standing under one of those quad streetlights favored by large parking lots when they went off like “Close Encounters.” Troy also was a witness to another streetlight phenomena when I snapped my fingers and made one go off. Lights have come on in my house and the TV once, although I’m not sure if it was me or a spiritual being who happened to be passing through and knew I wanted the TV turned on. Sometimes, I can get all of the stoplights to turn to green. The lady I buy beads from told me after hearing my lamentation about watches that, “You just have a different body chemistry.” Tell me, are those little balls they use for the lottery magnetic? Damn. Didn’t think so.

Choices and Chances

My job is winding down. Any moment they could give us the promised two weeks notice or they could walk in and tell us to pack our things and leave. So, I’m working eight full hours there and working a few hours at the shop and beading at home. The shop won’t generate any money until I start bringing in sales. Beadwork, same thing, although I’m getting ready to be juried again. I’m sick of being in an office all the time. I would much rather be creative. That’s what I like about the shop. It satisfies many different needs in me. Creatively, numbers, relaxed atmosphere, flexibility, it’s my dream job, except for that whole commission pay thing. So, I’m trying to combine the best of both worlds. I haven’t quite decided yet, but I’m hoping to take a few basic courses in Excel and Quickbooks, and hang out yet another shingle as “Office Girl for Hire.” AZ and the Computer Guy can’t be the only extremely busy small business owners who need an office girl but can’t afford one full time. I also bid on a transcribing machine today, the mini-cassette kind, but I also bid on a standard cassette kind but didn’t meet the reserve. I’ll keep my eyes open on Ebay although the transcriber I bid on was very, very sweet. I may up my bid. I’m also looking into becoming a medical transcriptionist. I’ve also been looking into advertising. Damn, if that shit is not expensive! But, have to spend money to make money. I’ve also contemplated using the resources at the shop to take up event planning. We have dozens and dozens of promotional wholesale catalogs. I may add that to my shingle. I’ll have to talk to AZ about that as I would want that to be under the shop umbrella since we’ve discussed plans for expansion anyway. Just have to generate the funds to do it. I’m nearing high anxiety level though. So many thoughts, so many ideas, so little money, so very little security, which freaks me out. I have a slight fall-back, but who wants to make that call? Not I. This is time when I cannot doubt myself. That can be really hard but I’m tired of being miserable in my work. I’m to the point where I’d rather work twice as hard and be happy as to work less and be miserable.

Survival in the Morning

I am not a morning person. I hate waking up. It’s a long process and normally I end up running late, forever miscalculating how long it will take me to rouse Nate, clothe us both, and get us where we need to be. Sometimes, I sleep right through the alarm, but only if it is tuned to music. While music is my preferred way to wake up, if I deeply truly need to awaken, then I turn on the blaring alarm. I am a night person. I wake up when the rest of the world goes to sleep. It is more peaceful and I can relax. My favorite time is from when the sun goes down to about an hour or two after the sun rises. Even after working long hours last week, some 14 hour days, the last six spent in temperatures of mid to upper 90's at the shop (Friday, while I was cleaning, sweat literally dripped off of my face and nose), after I left and came out into the darkness and relative coolness (if you consider 85 degrees at 10:30 cool), one would think I would be ready for bed. No, not really. If anything, I was energized. AZ is the same way. We were lamenting that fact after a particularly heinous day of broiling hot temps and disgusting humidity. Since both of us have to rise early, he at 4:45 and I at 5:30 (or so), it doesn’t help much that at 11:00 we’re both very tired yet energized. I don’t know how to explain it. We got around that on Thursday when I text messaged him that he had infected me with “do it twice syndrome.” This was after standing outside the shop with the door shut realizing I had left my purse inside, then coming home and realizing I needed to leave immediately to go pick up wet cat food in an attempt to keep some kittens alive (which has failed miserably), thus, doing things twice. AZ called me and snarkily said, “I take no responsibility, I believe you may have already had this syndrome and are just now realizing how annoying it is.” HA! Then I thought about it, and I am indeed cursed with the “do it twice if not three times syndrome” and have been most of my life, especially when it comes to leaving in the mornings. Then we discussed various things, mainly I did since I had told him to go lay down and I would lay down too, since, even though we’re a few miles apart, tends to help wind us down if we’re both in the bed, albeit different beds. I think I was wrong in my belief that he’s totally passive-aggressive. I can see it in both of us but being together or rather, in the same environment, has quelled a great deal of that, especially in the fact that we must communicate with one another and we’re there, in the moment, and head off behaviors, gently. If anything, I’ve stopped taking some things personally and realize it is more the environment versus anything I’ve said or done, which is sometimes hard to do over the phone. On Thursday, I was talking about my plans for the future and what they included and didn’t include, and after I had concluded that, I added, “Oh yeah, and it would nice to have someone to share all of that with,” and then lamented my recent dating disasters and how I feel, as Celti once told me, if you’re totally satisfied, then you’re stagnant. You have to keep moving forward, ambition in a person is very important to me, and AZ said, “I have more ambition than I know what to do with.” I said I didn’t want someone holding me back from achieving things or something to that effect and he said, “Can misery come along?” I paused and I said, “Ahh, misery loves company and misery is welcome as long as it doesn’t hold me back.” Misery. Misery being him. He who describes himself as the most miserable person on the planet. The eternal optimist, me, and the eternal pessimist, AZ. Life is about balance. So, finally after drifting off to sleep, the alarm goes off at 5:30, and I hit the snooze button, twice more until 6:02, when the alarm goes off, the music alarm and one of the few songs guaranteed to rouse me out of bed is playing. The first song of the day on AZ’s shift is “Survival of the Sickest” by Saliva. If you’re not acquainted with said song, it’s a song about rising above, proving who you are, while showing everyone the middle finger who said you couldn’t do it. It’s also a sexual song... So ease down And wrap your legs around me baby Wrap your legs around me Ease down And wrap your legs around me baby Wrap your legs around me! Roll over baby, get on your knees I'm gonna drive this little red love machine And because I’m the Nanner, I text messaged AZ and said, “Drive MY little red love machine. AZ in my a.m.” Referring to his radio call sign and motto. He called me and read me the morning’s news, which we discussed while I got dressed, fed the cats, packed up my suitcase of beads, and left for work. That’s not all but this already too long and I’ll just write the rest for me. But things are going well and I had an epiphany last night at about 4:30 when I awoke from my slumber of 14 hours duration. I was a tired Nanner. I'll need to at some point, write out the conversation about whether or not he should marry his girlfriend. That was. . . *snort* *laugh* very interesting.

The E-Lo Meme

Thanks, E-Lo! Not really, but since you just joined the proud and few of us dragging our asses through 30 year mortgages, why not? 20 Things I Hate 1. Mornings 2. Fleas 3. Pretentious, grandiose, bigoted pricks 4. Dreary days 5. Extremely cold weather 6. Not having clean clothes in the drawer 7. Cleaning the litter boxes 8. Having a dirty house 9. Wasting three hours not being able to figure out a bead pattern . . . grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! 10. High gas prices 11. Not already owning my home 12. Being stupid when I know better 13. People who ride my ass in traffic 14. People who cut me off in traffic 15. Bras 16. Not having answers I want 17. Doubting myself 18. My paralegal job 19. Having debt 20. When I lose my temper with Nate 20 Things I Love 1. Nate (what a great sense of humor!) 2. Nighttime 3. Beads 4. AZ 5. My “job” at the shop 6. My family 7. My friends 8. Blogging 9. My blog family 10. Traveling 11. Writing 12. Laying in the sun naked or at least topless 13. Skinny-dipping 14. The mountains 15. An empty beach 16. Sleeping in the sun 17. A good kiss 18. Sex 19. My cats 20. Ambition I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed now.

Bone Tired!

I am bone tired ya’ll! I just got home from “work” at 10:30 p.m.. I got to “work” at 8:00 a.m. I beaded and reviewed documents until 3:30, then I went to the shop, where I filed and re-did the contract price sheet, met with a client who is not only ordering two necklaces from me, but also wants to a) loan me a newer laptop with bells and whistles and Quickbooks on it so I can b) work for him too since AZ, I’m assuming, gave me a glowing reference. Otherwise, why would a guy who has met me twice now, trust me to input invoices and receipts into his Quickbooks system? So, I know AZ had something to do with it. Probably doesn’t hurt that AZ also uses Quickbooks so I can learn that much faster. It was fucking hot in the shop today. 92 fucking degrees when I left at about 9:30. It was about 89 in the actual office where the poor pitiful A/C was doing what it could to cool that small area. Stands to reason the one week that Nate is at my parents’ place it would be butt fucking hotter than Hades. I have to say though, I’ve kicked some major ass in the shop. Even if it is on the edge of Hades, I love being there, even by myself. The heat and sweat and grime just doesn’t bother me. So far, this has been a good thing for AZ and me. Although I didn’t see him Monday, I did talk to him four or five times, which is good, since it broke the ice after our long talk on Friday. Yesterday, he was in a fantastic mood and we worked on several things before I gave him a long backrub and we talked. When I started rubbing his shoulders he said, “Oh, that feels so good. I’m in misery.” I asked, “Why didn’t you just say so?” “Well, because now I just can’t ask you to rub my back.” I leaned over and whispered, “Yes, you can.” He nodded and smiled, “Yeah, I guess I can.” CHA! He had lips all over my nipples on Friday and yet he’s worried about asking me for a backrub??? CHA! Today was good, just busy and he had to leave early for some other commitments, but we’re adjusting well. Now, I had forgotten to tell you all that Mr. Nate and his sister, Danlel, were playing out at the farm (Jeff’s parents’ place for their greyhounds), and they were playing on a sort of exercising machine for the dogs. A pole came around and whacked Nate in the head and he now has four fine stitches to prove it. I took before and after photos with my cellphone, but the hell if I know when I can send them and download and all that. This was last Friday. AZ and I text-messaged back and forth while I was at the ER, since I had left the shop (and him, mrowr), not 15 minutes prior to the call from Jeff. This severely set back my plans to actually sleep before I went to NC. I beaded while Nate sat on the bed waiting on the doctor. He said, “Mama, I can’t believe you’re beading in this time of crisis.” “Dude, beading helps Mommy calm down. You want me calm right?” “Yeah.” “Furthermore, since you’re bouncing on the bed, talking, breathing, and watching Nickelodeon, I don’t believe this qualifies as a crisis.” I swear, not five minutes later Jeff came in and said, “You’re beading? But Nate is super duper fine and resting comfortably at my parents’ house. Alls well that ends well.

Contortion By Thunderstorm - Opus II

*NSFW WARNING* The air, magnetized by lightning, swarming with invisible ions, drew them closer, their breathing shallow, almost gasping. Their eyelids flickered open and found themselves gazing at one another and they met swiftly, crushing, their kiss softening and tongues meeting just as quick. Lightening flashed across the sky in flaming streaks sucking electricity into itself. She twined her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck as he drug her onto his lap. He leaned her back into the post of the porch hard enough to jar them apart and he captured her hands in that instant, pulling and holding them away from him. Kissing and sucking at his lips, she strained against human bounds. She knew that he knew that she loved it and she hated it and that’s why she loved it. They struggled and fought, kissing and nipping and sucking. His silky deep voice stilled her as he said, “Little bitch, I’m going to hurt you.” She slid her tongue up the tendon of his neck, captured his earlobe between her teeth, and challenged him with her own husky voice, “Bring it.” Transformers overloaded and blew out in showering sparks as he turned and slammed them both onto the porch floor, her head and spine cradled by his powerful arms. His eyes reflected the sparks of her own passion and lust, then another bolt of lightning, thunder cracked and rolled, its percussion carrying them into darkness. Pandora's Box was open.

Contortion By Thunderstorm - Opus I

She loved the scent of him. It rose from his body like the waves radiating off hot pavement. The blistering heat of day had descended into a muggy, cloying heat but neither cared as moisture beaded on their brows and dancing rivulets of sweat trickled down their bent spines. His hand was in her lap where she massaged his long fingers. He brought the corner of his forehead against her’s, rubbing like a needy cat. “Hot and sweaty, like I like my woman,” he said. She felt his eyes on her breast and he twisted his head and even through her shirt and her bra, he unerringly found her nipple and teased it until it strained against the material. Without thought, she found her hands in his hair, urging him on, and from hooded lids, she saw the first streak of lightening. Supple fingers traced through paths of slickness up her bare back to her bra strap and agilely he popped each of the clasps, releasing her, and again, tracing paths of slickness, lifting the damp garment from her skin, exposing her to him and anyone who cared to saunter by. She did not care. His lips and tongue and teeth were on her breast, almost savagely they strained against one another. He was not gentle and she did not want him to be. She looked down into his eyes and he licked first one, then the other, nipple, teasing her. He glanced around her, perhaps seeking one who was not there and again he descended to her breast and she was powerless under the onslaught, and from hooded lids, she saw another streak of lightening, closer, and far in the distance, whether real or simply unheard over the roaring in her ears, thunder. Kissing along his hairline, she inhaled his intoxicating scent, his essence, releasing more as she clawed down his back, raising his t-shirt so she could touch more bare skin. Gliding her hands down his sleekness, she kissed his forehead before raising her arms, bending at the elbows and pulled any hope of cover free from her body. He growled, he fingers biting into the soft skin of her mid-back, over the muscles, over the ribs, where within lay her beating heart. She cupped his face as a streak of lightning arced across the sky and she became aware at last of their gasps and moans as thunder rumbled. His tongue lapped at the sweat between her breasts, that forgotten sensitive spot, and she brought her temple against his and she felt his consciousness raise, as did her’s. Their lips were mere inches apart, their breath co-mingling. Did they dare open this Pandora’s Box after so long?

But. . . Let's See What Happens Tomorrow

Shop time! AZ and I kicked the guys out of the shop so we could sit and talk and talk we did. I brought up a lot of points to him, didn’t beat around the bush, and he was open and, I feel, honest and so was I, especially about the situation at the shop and the rest of his life, his issues, my life, my issues, us, and our issues. A lot was personal to him so I can’t get into it, but, it was a good start. A very good start. Bad Nanner. *Ahem* Anyway, I have decided that even though unemployment is paltry that if I don’t take the time to work on my jewelry and get a big batch going that I’ll never be successful at it and I really do need to be successful at it. AZ and I worked out a deal. I get space in the shop for all of my beads, tools, etc. as it has now taken over my house and I have beads in a every room, even the bathroom, and I spent too much time looking for what I need. AZ was telling me I could clean out drawers and move racks and things to make it more comfortable. Whatever I wanted. In return, I’ll make sales calls, crack the whip, organize and get a system going, basically, as we’ve skirted around, run the office. I was very direct with him this evening on that measure. I can make sales calls and still bead. Once I get a system going and get him organized, which he hates being disorganized, then hopefully things will smooth out for us all. As much as my house is a disaster, I’m very much a perfectionist, which is why I’m such a good beader, and AZ is very much a perfectionist as well. Yeah, we tend to somewhat alike. Finances will be extremely tight after the end of August here for a while but I have to take this chance. AZ and I are still discussing money issues as neither of us have very much at this time. I’ll have unemployment after this job ends and I’ll have my money from my demonstration at the end of August and whatever else I can sell in jewelry. I have to be juried again to get in another shop, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Only problem is, it is consignment not direct pay. Regardless, I have to do this and try to get things off of the ground. Otherwise, I may as well pack in Peachworks and call it a day. Basically, AZ said I could do whatever I had to do to get things organized, I could have the run of the shop for my beads and work on them anytime, I was to keep the shop running smoothly as far as personnel issues, make sales calls, have the flexibility I need for Nate and doing other things for my beadwork, like fairs and festivals, and tell the guys to shut up and get back to work if I had to, which, I’ll probably have to. We brain-stormed about personnel, sales, marketing, and other shite that would bore you guys to tears and wouldn’t make much sense. His main concern with having me there? Paraphrased, “Keeping my hands off of you,” whilst burying his face between my bare breasts. Somehow, I can’t imagine complaining about that. (Please don't be concerned, just let me enjoy the moment!) Off to NC in the morning to buy beads and see the Mistress of Doom herself, El Sid. Ya’ll have a great weekend.

Moving Right Along

Let’s talk about Nate’s birthday. Lucky little dog, born just four days after the 4th of July, kind of like his Mama, whose birthday falls in close proximity to Thanksgiving. More often than not, July 4th is the official start of Nate’s birthday. Poor kid. After our aborted attempt to see fireworks on the 3rd, we slept in the next morning and then went to the pool. It stormed again that night. Of course, at 12:01 a.m. on July 7th, we went to the premiere of "Pirates of the Caribbean." On his actual birthday, Nate and I hung out for a while, then he went to his dad’s and had a party, and then the following day Nate and I went back to the pool. This Sunday we’re going to my Mom and Dad’s and I’m assuming my brother and SIL with clan will be there. No one has gotten back to me. I’m supposed to go bead shopping in NC on Saturday... that can’t be messed up, especially since I was at the shop yesterday and the computer guy saw my necklace and wants me to make a necklace for his girlfriend’s birthday. This is where my creativity has gotten me lately.

The Fourteen Years War - TBY - 2004 to The Present - Volumes III & IV

I orginally had split up the last part of this saga into two parts, but you guys and gals have been so very patient and kind since I started this on Thursday, June 22nd, yes, it's been that long, that I didn't have the heart to make you slog through two more days for more of my insight and decisions concerning this situation. Plus, I'm just so tired. I haven't been sleeping well, as you can imagine. For those of you wondering, AZ is home, we spoke on the phone last night, we saw one another today (and I got a jewelry order from one of his friends, WOOT! I've been very creative lately as well... Uranus in retrograde and all that. (Did you all know, that on July 4th and 5th, Mercury, Neptune, Uranus, Pluto, and Jupiter were all in retrograde? Jupiter went direct on July 6th but it certainly is interesting what those retrogrades can signify and how it's corresponding to my life. Read more about it here. )) Anyway, I hit the tip of the iceberg which was just an honest observation of my fear that someday Jeff will kill me or at least attempt to, and how I live with that fear everyday and I'm sick of it. How's that for a "welcome home?" I may wait until Mercury goes direct again on the 28th before getting into the heavy stuff since Mercury is the planet of communication. Then again, maybe I won't. He's aware that I have some things to say and he was very receptive to having porch time with me when he doesn't have to get up at the ass crack of dawn the following morning. (I added that last part about the ass crack of dawn.) Thanks for hanging with me and thanks for all of your concern and insights. I have a feeling the last half of the year is going to be far more interesting than the first part of the year. As Forrest Gump would say, "I'm tired. I think I'll go home now." When I told T-Bird, she said, "This is not good for you." DUH!!! He may as well be an alcoholic. When I did realize it, I immediately thought of extricating myself from him period. Never seeing him again, never talking to him again, never having anything to do with him. Scary, even for the Giant Peach. Then, I told myself I wasn’t running from this. I can’t change him, but he has told me, "I’m tired of being angry all the time." Perhaps that’s just bullshit talking, maybe it’s not. I’ve always been here for him to talk to, but sometimes, I didn’t know what to say. Now I do. Peeps, I’m not walking away from him for two reasons. Well, there’s more than two but the two most important reasons are: He’s told me he’s tired of being the way he is. Whether this means he’s actually receptive to change I don’t know, time will tell. The most important reason is me. That’s right, me. For 14 1/2 years I’ve skirted, dodged, put up with, tip-toed around, and basically pansy-assed my way around AZ. Do I know how to deal with him? I thought I did, I still think I do for the most part. Do I like it sometimes? Fuck no. What a nasty creature he can be. But there is a connection between us and has been one since the day I walked into his living room and danced. I understand it better now, a whole lot better. I’ve been guilty of giving in to him, of not knowing what to say, or of not saying something because I didn’t want to upset him. That jive is over. I’ve given him control over me through my love for him and his manipulations, whether consciously or subconsciously, for far too long. I’m still learning on how to stand up to Jeff but I definitely need to learn to stand up to AZ. I will not walk away until I learn how to do this. I’m doing research, I’m praying and meditating a lot. I have to take back the control that I’ve given him for ME. All that and then I recognized aspects of myself in what is written about passive-aggressive personalities. All of us will find ourselves in those traits, perhaps not all the time, but at least some of the time. I now can recognize that my housekeeping problem is not only ADHD, not laziness, not being too busy, it’s a passive rebellion against my anal retentive mother. I come from a classic p/a family. My mom was and is, very needy, my father, emotionally unavailable which just made her worse. I lived under tension so tangible it was like having another person in our house. I fear self assertion and confrontation, although I’m getting better. I would like to have someone in my life, but also fear commitment. I’m very independent and no, I don’t like anything that challenges that, to the point of pushing men away. And I loathe someone telling me what to do, not so much at work, it’s expected there, but in my own domain, hence the passive rebellion against my mother even though she’s never here. It also bleeds over into my relationship with Nate. I really hate that. Nate loves video games and he always wants me to watch them with him. I hate video games and although I’ve tried to explain this to him, he is so insistent, and I become the "Yes Mom" to get him to leave me alone. Yes, I’ll be there in a minute, knowing I will stretch that minute as long as I can. And he does it to me so we’re becoming locked in the passive battle. Is this what I want my child to learn??? NO. Which means, I have to change. Just goes to show. . . make sure you don’t live in a glass house before you start throwing stones and often those things we don’t like about other people, are things we don’t like about ourselves. The week before AZ left was trying, very, very trying. His talk of "family is the only thing that keeps me on this Earth," "my life sucks," "I hate my life," and storming out of the shop without saying so much as a goodbye to any of us Friday before last. Telling me he would talk to me about organizing the shop when he gets back. . . yeah right, another way for him to manipulate me, put it off and put him in control. Not. After I told him that I had been writing to him, him saying, "Why don’t you just tell me." That one, I haven’t figured out. Does he really want me to stop writing to him after so long? After 200 or so letters? After telling me for years how much he enjoyed them? Is this just a way to hurt me or push me away? Or does he really want me to talk to him? Does he really want me to find my voice? After all, he’s the oral communicator in this relationship and I’m the written communicator. Verbal communication for me is my final frontier. That pain is so deeply rooted in me, the pain of the verbal lashings I received as a child, the emotional abuse I’ve received is so deep within me, I still quake and quiver when doing the least bit of verbal confronting, but I have done it and I will do it. I will work through this. Maybe he is right. Maybe it is time for me to stop writing to him and start talking to him. The real question is, is that really what he wants? Does he really want me to open my mouth and let the truth come out? I cannot change anything about my past, but I can work through it and I will. I cannot change AZ in the least, but I can change the way I react to him and I can change the way I deal with him and I will. Now I see, and I hope some of you understand, AZ has always been a catalyst of change for me. Not every moment has been shining, not every moment has been made in heaven, but when he opens up to me, when he reaches out to me, when he touches me, when he lays his forehead against mine, when I feel his pain, anger, and yearning, I cannot turn away. I must face all of this. The good and the bad. I cannot fear what is to come. I must be strong for myself. I cannot doubt that I will come out on the other side stronger, wiser, and happier. If he wants it bad enough, he will too, and if he doesn’t, then I’ll still be stronger, wiser, and happier. I’ll tell you what else T-Bird had to say about all of this, not about the part about me, because I haven’t told her, because I hadn’t figured it out yet, but the part about AZ. "I wouldn’t waste my breath." Well, peeps, I wonder how she would have felt had I said that about her. Sorry, you’re unhealthy and broken. You’ll never change. It doesn’t matter that you’ve said you don’t want to be the way you are anymore, it doesn’t matter how you’ve tried, it just doesn’t matter because I’m not going to waste. my. breath. How many "broken" people do you know who have changed their lives? Well, you’re looking at one of them and I’m not stopping. I’ll never stop. That is my nature. Yes, AZ and I are locked in passive battle as well. I can see it. I can see how we each manifest our anger and fear in different ways and how we ricochet off of each other. Do you think we enjoy being this way? Do think we enjoy being alone, and worse, lonely? Do you not understand how it hurts my heart to be angry and afraid all the time? I live under constant fear and sometimes an anger wells inside of me that I don’t understand. Do you not think I understand when AZ says, "I don’t want to be angry anymore." I understand very well. So, if you wouldn’t waste your breath, then please, go look in the mirror and congratulate yourself on having a perfect life with all of your perfect family and your perfect friends. Remember that anger that wells up? That’s it, right there. I’ve always felt broken, different, odd, strange, ad nauseum, but I’m worth it and I deserve so much more than I’m allowing myself to have because I’m really not any more broken, more different, odder or stranger than anyone else. I’ve just been lead to believe that. Whether it seems arrogant or not, I was born a healer, an empathic healer. I was born with a gift and that gift was mangled and abused to the point that I hated it. Not anymore. I have to embrace it, I have to heal myself again in order to heal those around me. And I wasn’t the only one born with the gift. . . may the passive battle become active healing. Someone pass me an onion. Oh, never mind, I think I found one last night.

Cease. Fire.

It has become apparent that I will not be able to wait until Volumes III and IV have been properly posted and digested before the onion peeling tirades shall commence. For those of you unfamiliar with onion peeling, you may read about it here. It's long and it's not pretty towards the end. Well, none of it is pretty. *FEELING VICTIMIZED - The p/a woman protests that others unfairly accuse her rather than owning up to their own misdeeds. To remain above reproach, she sets herself up as the apparently hapless, innocent victim of your excessive demands and tirades. Aimee asked that I not do this anymore so I will attempt to find a why for it first. Certainly, I can see that I’ve done this. However, I do tend to be forthcoming with my failings and I do realize when I’m not doing what I should. I’ll throw out here that perhaps this particular symptom only comes into play when I’m actually the victim of something, I just compound it by actually playing the part. I’ll offer you up a memory of my childhood. I was perhaps five or six years old at the time, maybe older, but not much older. My mother and I are sitting on the floor of my bedroom and it’s probably a bit messy. There is a small navy blue suitcase with wide tan stripes on it laying open on the floor. Inside, from what I can recall, there are underwear and socks. My mother is raining down verbal fire and brimstone, berating me for not cleaning out my suitcase from an overnight stay at my grandparents’ house. She is so angry. Her voice always took a different tone when she was like that. She always asked me questions that I could not answer. Why are you so dolus? (This word was one of her favorites and means: evil intent, embracing both malice and fraud.) Why are you so lazy? Why can’t you just (fill in the evil blank)? When she got like that, I stayed silent. Any attempt to defend myself just brought on more of the same. Are you cringing yet? Because I am. Because I knew what happened next. The slapping. My head, my shoulders, my bare arms, my bare legs, and the hair pulling. She always kept my hair short as a child and she would grasp the little hairs at the nape of my neck and give it a good swift tug upwards. You wanna feel pain? That is pain. Then, of course, I would try to appease her by being "the good child," by doing what she wanted. But, that wasn’t good enough either because she rejected the attempts that I made because I should have done it before. I should not have had to be reminded. I should have done it the first time. I should have done it right the first time. This was not an isolated incident. This happened more often than not. It was always something. My father didn’t say anything, if he was even around to say anything. She was much calmer at times when he was home, meaning, she vented against him instead of me. He was the one she went after. So, he became my savior. I loved my Daddy when I was a little girl. Not that I don’t now, but God I loved him so much when I was little. When he came home, I knew she would leave me alone. Granted, it was still terrible because they would fight and the tension, argh, the tension. And that is what I could not tell her that day. I’m not sure if she had yelled at me, or yelled at my brother, or yelled at my dad after I came home from my grandparents’ house, but the tension, the tension was so heavy. I went up to my room, got my little navy blue and tan striped suitcase from underneath the bed, and put my socks and underwear in it. It wasn’t my clothes from my grandparents’ house that she had found, it was where I had packed to run away from home. The day she came up to my room and found the clothes, I don’t remember what she was so angry about. I know I saw it in her face, I felt it as she slapped me, I heard it as she yelled at me, and I felt it inside of me. The most terrifying thing was not the words, or the pain, or what I saw, it was what I felt inside of me because I could feel her anger as though it was my own. Overwhelming percussions waves of anger and hate and violence and loathing and disgust. I was afraid because I could feel inside of her, I could see inside of her. I could feel that she wanted to choke me, beat me, strangle me, slap me, she wanted to hurt me. She wanted to kill me. That’s how angry she was. I’m still afraid and it manifests itself everyday and my co-dependent traits slide right in there with it. Everyday about two o’clock, I become afraid to pick Nate up from Jeff’s. I’m afraid that in my absence something I did or didn’t do will have made Jeff mad, and when I get there to pick Nate up, he’ll confront me. And I’m six years old again. When AZ left for Boston, I was afraid the entire time he was gone, afraid he wouldn’t come home. Then I was afraid when he got home that he would be angry with me although he had no reason to be angry as I had done nothing for him to be angry about. He’s gone on numerous trips out of town and he’s never come home angry at me for anything. Yet, when he returns, I desperately want to talk to him and see him, but I’m afraid to. He’s never even raised his voice to me, how could I be afraid? But I am. It’s that way with my parents, when I haven’t seen or talked to them in a while. Fear. Anytime I travel out of town, I come home with fear in my heart that there’s something I haven’t done or something I have done that has pissed someone off while I was gone. Fear. So, can you imagine the freak that gets loose in my mind when I actually do something wrong? When I make a mistake? Yes, the freak runs loose but the freak admits wrongdoing and the freak makes amends. But if someone won’t let go of what I did wrong, if they keep picking at me, if they pick on me at all, then yes, I start seeing less and less of what I did wrong and focus on being the victim, on throwing it back on my accuser. I no longer care if I’ve done anything wrong, because they’re more wrong and if they’re more wrong then I’m right and I’m not six years old anymore being beaten about the head and shoulders, my hair pulled, my bare legs and arms slapped, being degraded and berated and told I’m lazy and dolus over a FUCKING SUITCASE NO BIGGER THAN A BRIEFCASE WITH A COUPLE OF PAIRS OF SOCKS AND UNDERWEAR IN IT! IT WAS FUCKING RIDICULOUS! SHE SHOULD HAVE NEVER TREATED ME THAT WAY. I DIDN’T DESERVE IT! NO ONE DESERVES IT. BUT IT HAPPENED TO ME AND I COULDN’T DO ANYTHING! NOTHING! I HAD NO ONE THERE TO PROTECT ME! I HAD NO VOICE. YOU WEREN’T THERE. YOU DIDN’T SEE HOW SHE LOOKED AT ME. YOU DIDN’T FEEL HOW MUCH SHE HATED ME. YOU DIDN’T FEEL HOW ANGRY SHE WAS. AND YOU CAN’T FEEL HOW MUCH I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND IT. HOW I STILL DON’T UNDERSTAND IT. I’M SURE SOME OF YOU CAN UNDERSTAND HOW MAD THAT MAKES ME. I’M SURE SOME OF YOU CAN UNDERSTAND HOW FUCKING ANGRY I AM, BUT YOU’RE FAR AWAY. YOU CAN’T REACH OUT YOUR HAND AND TOUCH ME PHYSICALLY. AND COULD YOU LEAN YOUR FOREHEAD AGAINST MINE AND IN TWO WORDS MAKE MY WORLD SO MUCH BETTER? WOULD I EVEN LET YOU? MY GUESS IS NO. BECAUSE I WILL LIE TO YOU. I WILL TELL YOU EVERYTHING IS BETTER BECAUSE I DON’T WANT YOU INSIDE OF ME EVEN WHEN I WANT DESPERATELY TO BE CLOSE TO YOU. THAT’S WHAT IT’S LIKE. DESPERATELY WANTING TO BE CLOSE TO SOMEONE AND NOT BEING ABLE TO. NO, MINE AND AZ’S RELATIONSHIP MAY NOT BE MADE IN HEAVEN, IT MAY NOT BE THE HEALTHIEST, BUT HE IS THE ONLY PERSON THAT WHEN HE GRABS MY FACE, KISSES MY FOREHEAD AND SAYS, "I UNDERSTAND," MAKES ME FEEL BETTER BECAUSE I KNOW HE’S BEEN THERE. HE HAS WALKED THROUGH THE SAME GATE OF HELL WITH ME. THE SUITCASE STORY UP THERE, ONE OF MANY, MANY MORE THAT HE HAS HEARD BECAUSE HE WAS THE ONE WHO TALKED ME DOWN AND HELD ME WHEN I WAS DRUNK AND CRYING BECAUSE I WAS SO HURT AND ANGRY AND SCARED, BECAUSE HE HAS READ HUNDREDS OF MY LETTERS, WRITTEN ON BAR NAPKINS AND LEGAL PADS AND NOTEBOOK PAPER AND MATCHBOX COVERS AND TYPED, TYPED, TYPED, TYPED ON THIS COMPUTER. But, it makes me sad and angry that he understands because then I know how he feels inside. And I love him so much, I don’t want him to feel this way. I don’t ever want anyone to feel this way.

The Fourteen Years War - TBY - 2004 to Present - Volume II

I’m not the least bit pleased to have figured out why our relationship has been the way it has. I almost screamed to the heavens, NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Between the guys at the shop, writing this, Cybele and Brighton, and my own insatiable curiosity, analytical brain, and non-stop reflection, I’ve determined that AZ and I are passive-aggressive individuals. Just look it up, you may find our picture beside of the definition. Here’s a list (just replace the masculine with the feminine): FEAR OF DEPENDENCY - Unsure of his autonomy & afraid of being alone, he fights his dependency needs - usually by trying to control you. FEAR OF INTIMACY - Guarded & often mistrustful, he is reluctant to show his emotional fragility. He's often out of touch with his feelings, reflexively denying feelings he thinks will "trap" or reveal him, like love. He picks fights to create distance. FEAR OF COMPETITION - Feeling inadequate, he is unable to compete with other men in work and love. He may operate either as a self-sabotaging wimp with a pattern of failure, or he'll be the tyrant, setting himself up as unassailable and perfect, needing to eliminate any threat to his power. *OBSTRUCTIONISM - Just tell a p/a man what you want, no matter how small, and he may promise to get it for you. But he won't say when, and he"ll do it deliberately slowly just to frustrate you. Maybe he won't comply at all. He blocks any real progress he sees to your getting your way. *FOSTERING CHAOS - The p/a man prefers to leave the puzzle incomplete, the job undone. *FEELING VICTIMIZED - The p/a man protests that others unfairly accuse him rather than owning up to his own misdeeds. To remain above reproach, he sets himself up as the apparently hapless, innocent victim of your excessive demands and tirades. *MAKING EXCUSES & LYING - The p/a man reaches as far as he can to fabricate excuses for not fulfilling promises. As a way of withholding information, affirmation or love - to have power over you - the p/a man may choose to make up a story rather than give you a straight answer. *PROCRASTINATION - The p/a man has an odd sense of time - he believes that deadlines don't exist for him. *CHRONIC LATENESS & FORGETFULNESS - One of the most infuriating & inconsiderate of all p/a traits is his inability to arrive on time. By keeping you waiting, he sets the ground rules of the relationship. And his selective forgetting - used only when he wants to avoid an obligation. *AMBIGUITY - He is master of mixed messages and sitting on fences. When he tells you something, you may still walk away wondering if he actually said yes or no. *SULKING - Feeling put upon when he is unable to live up to his promises or obligations, the p/a man retreats from pressures around him and sulks, pouts and withdraws. I don’t know what made me look this up. I don’t know how it all came together. I just don’t know. I know that when I read this, I screamed inside for two very good reasons. Me and him. Deep, dark discussions to follow in Volumes III and IV.

The Fourteen Years War - The Blogging Years - 2004 to 2006 - Volume I

Are you ready for this? Are you really ready? Fine, continue. I’m now getting into the Blogging Years. As far as Jeff is concerned, he was still as unstable as the wind. I believe though, it was 2004 when he told me he was very sorry he hadn’t been there for me and Nate, he had made mistakes, and he saw how much he had hurt me. Honestly, I had already put it behind me but it was apparent he had not and needed to make that amend with me. He probably also asked me to marry him at some point in a drunken stupor. I obviously said no. I did eventually call Lex and we start seeing one another. Seeing Lex was odd and strange in some ways. It was the first time I had actually dated someone that AZ knew, was friends was, worked with, and saw me with. I went up to the radio station one morning and took them breakfast. Very strange. Very odd. It didn’t stop me though. Lex stopped me. As much as those two complain about each other, it’s because they are so much alike, and so very different. AZ and I talked a lot during my relationship with Lex but we never talked about Lex and I. We talked about everything but Lex and I. I, however, made it a point to tell Lex things first, even if I wanted to tell AZ. I worked my way out of emotionally cheating in my relationship with Lex. If something happened, I told Lex first, got his input, got his point of view, then I told AZ. It was hard too. It was even harder when Lex didn’t take much interest in some things that were important to me, whereas AZ took interest in just about everything. As things started going south with Lex, I resisted the urge to talk to AZ about it. Not just because they were friends but also because I wanted to handle it on my own. It wasn’t until far after the fact that AZ got an earful about my relationship with Lex, why things went south, and my frustrations and hurt, especially after AZ called me and had both he and Lex on the phone at the same time. I was so livid and I wrote a nasty letter about it to him. Which he promptly received and called me about. I also learned a valuable lesson, don’t date any of AZ’s friends if things aren’t “resolved” with AZ. Towards the end of 2004, I wrote a post called, “Reason, Season, Lifetime.” It was about feeling as though I had moved past AZ emotionally, essentially outgrown him. In many ways I have. I’m even more aware of it now. However, the end of 2005 brought about another change for AZ and I. It was the first time he told me about his father’s death to a large degree. We talked a lot in the Fall, as usual. When I went down to visit Sid in NC, it was on the anniversary of his father’s death. For the first time ever, he called me after a trip to find out if I had made it home safe. Unfortunately, I was still on the road when he called and then of course, I didn’t hear from him again until January. I’ve blogged mightily about Jeff and AZ in the past two years. But putting all of this down, running through it year to year, as been not been the least bit cathartic to me. I have brought up a lot of old hurts and that’s all they are... old. However, I don’t ever see my relationship with Jeff changing. He’ll still be an alcoholic and I’m counting down the days to when I’ll no longer HAVE to see him, speak to him, or otherwise be involved in his life. I want to be able to have a choice as to when I deal with him. What this has done has shed a great deal of light on the situation with AZ. Since he was been absent last week, the guys at the shop were very honest and forthcoming with what goes on there. I’ve always known there was SOMETHING, something I wasn’t putting my finger on, something besides the depression that I was missing, something that would explain everything. I’ve searched high and low for a long time, not just now, but for many years to explain my relationship with AZ. I found it.

The Fourteen Years War - 2003 - Volume II

You’ll notice, that around the end of the year, AZ and I tend to end up together in some fashion. We’re speaking or seeing each other. There’s no easy explanation for this. I know why, but I don’t know why. I understand, but I don’t understand. See, AZ’s father died suddenly within a few days after AZ’s birthday. His dad was only 52 or 53 years old. AZ begins his spiral downward around Thanksgiving and doesn’t come up for air until around the New Year’s. Same pattern, year after year. We do talk to each other more around this time. Yes, we normally see each other too. Nothing different this year. AZ comes by the house to pick up some baked goodies and we have, “a moment.” After which, he’s sitting on my couch with this look of utter. . . despair. I can pretty much remember what he said but that’s very personal to him. The nutshell version is depression. Heaping dark clouds of doom. I talked to him about many things, many personal things, things from his past, things I never, ever had a clue about. There are a lot of things over the years, especially since the winter of 2003 that we’ve talked about that I can’t write about. Not here anyway. Those things shouldn’t be shared. Just imagine you’ve told someone some of your deepest, darkest secrets. Things you had never told another human being in your life. Imagine cutting your soul open and letting someone look inside. Imagine yourself as vulnerable as you can make yourself. That’s what the conversation was like. It answered a lot of unspoken questions, things I had wondered about, and personality quirks he had. So, now I understood better. . . but why did he tell me? Why is it me he turns to? And why is it me he walks away from? Because he did and he does. You might think after such a heart to heart, after such demons are bared, that we might have moved forward, maybe even towards being together as a couple, as opposed to “just friends with some benefits.” No. He walked away and basically shut down. Regardless, I tried as best I could to encourage him to seek help. I just tried to listen and talk to him, talk him through, talk him down. I wouldn’t say he ignored me, but he suddenly became very busy, and I wrote him a long letter and still encouraged him. Honestly, it frustrated me that at one moment we could be so close and the next, he’s hiding under that Scorpio moon, basically dodging me. That irritated me. It irritated me enough to ask him for Lex’s number, which he conveniently couldn’t find. I asked him three times over the course of three weeks. The geeks worked together! Don’t tell me he didn’t have Lex’s number! I was very frustrated. It was that same bullshit. AZ didn’t want me, was pushing me away, seeing someone else, but would not give me a simple damn phone number. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. . . But when has that ever stopped me?

The Fourteen Years War - 2003 - Volume I

Honestly, this year as far as Jeff goes is just a blur. I know he was still Jeff. Still getting drunk and drugged up on occasion, and spewing his rhetorical shit. I can’t remember anything outstanding as far as Jeff goes about 2003. As far as AZ and I, our phone conversations were titillating to say the least. One day, he called me and said, “They cut down our tree.” “Our tree” referencing the tree beside of the radio station that we had our tryst under back when. By now, way back when. Every phone conversation slipped into our past, the pre-Jeff past. I’d finally had enough and sometime during late Spring, I finally told him either we needed to fish or cut bait. Either we needed to be together or we needed to stop living in the past. It was too hard on me. He came down one evening and we spent the entire night, from about 11 p.m. until 6 a.m., watching movies, talking, and his receiving an extended back rub. No. We didn’t discuss us or where we were going or where we weren’t going. That was as much my fault as his. And no, we were not chaste. As he left that morning, he stopped before getting into his car and looked back at me, like he was committing that moment to memory. Since things had calmed down, for the most part, with Jeff, I finally felt more comfortable about going out, and most of the time it was to a local bar where AZ did a live remote every Wednesday. The place was often packed by the time I got there, and as I would weave my way through the bar, I would feel eyes on me and like a tuning fork, I would turn and AZ would be smiling at me. Once, I was at Monday Night Football, eating wings, drinking beer, and trying to watch football, when this guy kept turning around to talk to me. He was. . . not so interesting. I really wasn’t in the mood since I was trying to eat and drink, follow the game, and the third eye in the center of my forehead was tracking AZ as he schmoozed. In just a few moments, two guys from the radio station I was acquainted with brought chairs over and insinuated themselves at my table which effectively cock-blocked Mr. Non-Interesting. Then AZ came over and brought a chair. Now I have four people at a two person table. When Mr. Non-Interesting got up and left, I whispered to AZ that I was glad the guys had come over since I wasn’t sure Mr. Non-Interesting was going to leave me alone. He whispered back, “I sent them over to rescue you. I told them, ‘Go save her.’” *Laugh* What a great memory that is. However, at the end of the year, it was once again AZ’s birthday and I went over the local bar and grill to help him celebrate the big 4-0. (For the record, AZ is 7 years older than I am and Jeff is 8.) I sat down and he brought Lex over to the table so we could keep each other company. I had known of Lex for a long time and we had cris-crossed numerous times in our Hair Band Days but Lex is sort of like the wind, if you hesitate he could be gone and I had hesitated a lot in my younger days. But we struck up one hell of a conversation that night. Enough that, given the fact AZ was dating Joanie or Joan or whatever the hell I call her, I decided that seeing Lex again might not be a bad thing, except, he was AZ’s friend and they worked together. Danger, Danger! Thing is, Lex walked away and said, “Call me sometime, babe. AZ has my number.” And again, he was gone like the wind. I stood there with my mouth open wanting to call him back and get his number then but he had already disappeared into the bar crowd and AZ was standing right there. Decisions, decisions. Happy Birthday to my Nate. He's 10 today!

The Fourteen Years War - 2002 - Volume I and Only One Again and Yet Again

Having filed for custody of Nate, I spent a lot of time worrying over the situation. AZ knew what was going on and encouraged me to stay the course and not give an inch. Jeff wasn’t helping matters much. To my knowledge, he was still drinking and drugging and trying to sling shit in my direction. Oh, and he found religion, for about three weeks or so. At some point, whether at this time or another, Lo, who was STILL married to, and I ganged up on him and tried to get him committed to rehab. This was after he spent an entire evening driving around drunk as hell, stopping by MY HOUSE to get a light for a cigarette, and then falling and screwing up his face. The bitch called and said he couldn’t see Nate because he had had a bad night. Well, fuck that noise. Jeff did eventually go to rehab, three times. It was the only way he was allowed to see Nate. Then, he fell off the wagon again. He got drunk/stoned one night and tried to call the bitch. Her daughter and Jeff’s nephew were hanging out together and thought it was some guy trying to call the daughter so they kept hanging up on Jeff. The bitch was sound asleep under the influence of Klonipin. That is, until Jeff showed up and dragged her out of the house by her hair and beat her. He blacked both her eyes and busted her eardrum before the police showed up, the same police force he used to work for, and arrested him. What a fucking mess. Any steps forward to determining our custody matter went straight out the door. My lawyer cut out the newspaper article and faxed it to his lawyer, telling her that Jeff would be agreeing to our terms or we would move to have his parental rights revoked. Jeff and I finally settled the matter after he completed an Anger Management Course. Can you believe, after all that, the bastard wanted to be the “primary custodian?” Yeah. Again, fuck that noise. Not only that, he turned down extra custodial time. So, he wanted control of the situation, but he didn’t really want to spend time with Nate. Manipulative, controlling asshole. In the meantime, Holland was getting worse and worse and he finally moved out. I had thrown him out earlier but he was too drunk to realize it. Luckily for him, he never, ever came home drunk when Nate could have seen him. He didn’t sit around and drink in front of Nate, nor was he ever mean to Nate in anyway. Matter of fact, Holland was one of my biggest supporters in what I was doing with Jeff. He knew what it was like growing up with an alcoholic for a father. Too bad he didn’t learn any lessons from it. I finally broke down and came clean with AZ, whether via phone conversations or via the multitude of letters I wrote to him. (There will be an epilogue about the letters when this whole schmear is done.) Working through my latest slide down the slippery slope of co-dependency and dealing with Jeff’s continued bullshit, took us into 2003.

The Fourteen Years War - 2001 - Volume I and Again Only One

I had decided to move on from AZ and began dating Holland, the drunk, in early January. I still wasn’t sure things were going to work out and they didn’t in the long run. I was under the impression that Holland was on the wagon with his drinking and was sucked in way too deep by the time I determined that indeed, he was never on the wagon. Remember that slippery slope of alcoholism and co-dependency, well, they go hand in hand. The Spring and Summer of 2001, Jeff had started having problems at the department. His back problem had gotten worse and he was drinking more. The bitch he was dating didn’t help anything. Another co-dependent, she fed his addiction and dependency on her. I suppose that’s the pot calling the kettle black except I don’t think she ever really saw the problem with it, whereas I spent my time reading up on AA. Life with Holland was a roller coaster. Drunk - sober - drunk - jail - sober. I blogged about it here and here. No need to root that piece of shit up. I spoke with AZ around March or May and we were comparing our relationships. He had finally ditched Jean and was now seeing a woman named Joanie. I simmered a bit at that. Not that it would have done much good as I was full to the teeth with Holland at the time. As things spiraled out of control with Holland, they also spiraled out of control with Jeff. AZ and I weren’t talking much and if we did, it wasn’t about our relationships. I’ve pretty much learned if I can’t be honest about my relationship with him, then it’s probably not very good. By October, Jeff was the worst I have ever seen him. Hateful, moody, drunk, and stoned on prescription painkillers. The bitch girlfriend was always around and for the most part, Jeff kept it together when the kids were around, or so I thought. I forgot that drunks hide a lot and lie a lot. Jeff didn’t keep his promise though, Danlel and Nate both told me how he had gotten angry at Nate and turned around in the car and started wailing on Nate with his fist. I filed custody papers and got a temporary injunction to keep Nate away from him. My grandfather died suddenly in October, things with Jeff were out of control, I found myself dealing with Holland’s drunk ass more times than I cared to count. I was making excuses and down right lying about him to the people in my life. I spent too many evenings waiting for the police number to show up on the Caller ID. I missed an important deadline at work. I was depressed and angry. I still remembered AZ’s birthday though, but since I was back to Ms. Co-Dependent, I really didn’t have much to say except about the situation with Jeff. Again, if I can’t talk to AZ about it, if I’m too afraid to be honest with him, then something just isn’t right in my life. Pirates of the Caribbean KICKED ASS!! The ending was absolutely perfect.

The Fourteen Years War - 2000 - Volume I and Only One

Of and on during the early months of 2000, AZ and I would steal moments together. We still talked on the phone but his reluctance to come out with what was going on with him and Jean finally wore me down. T-Bird and family moved in with me July 4th weekend and stayed for a mind bending three months. AZ and I were still talking and I did more than my fair share of convincing him to come and see me. Part of me felt guilty over that, part of me didn’t. The part that felt guilty was the part that told me I should leave well enough alone and that getting further involved would just put me back, pseudosorta, where I had been with Jeff before. The other side said, fuck it. I wanted AZ, period. Didn’t work out that way. AZ did come to see me, which resulted in me asking some tough questions about his relationship with Jean. I wanted to know, once and for all, what the deal was and why was he visiting me and talking to me the way he was if he was engaged to be married to her. He still wasn’t giving me any answers. He stood in my living room trying to find words that wouldn’t come out. I pushed harder and he finally told me that he had asked her to marry him and she said yes. Then she reneged and said no, she wasn’t sure, then she was sure, then she wasn’t. I was incredulous. I yelled at him across the room, “She told you NO? Is she a fucking idiot?? How could she say yes and then no and then yes? What kind of fucked up game is that? And she’s still living with you? Where is this going?” He just nodded and said quietly, “I know.” I finally told him that if he wasn’t getting what he wanted or needed at home, then he didn’t need to come looking for it from me. Fix it or forget it. It wasn’t really physically, after all, we weren’t kissing or having sex, it was emotional. He was cheating more emotionally than he was physically. I think I may have thrown out there that he needed to dump her and be with me. Yes, I think I actually said it that way. That didn’t happen. As it goes with AZ, it took another year or two to get the rest of the story. Things were starting to go south with Jeff as well. In November 2000, I found bruises in the perfect shape of Jeff’s fingers on Nate’s butt. I confronted him on my birthday, and told him that it was unacceptable for him to spank Nate that hard. He had stepped over the line to abuse. At first he denied it, then accused me of not disciplining Nate enough, then admitted he had “probably” spanked Nate when was too angry. I told him if it happened again I would take action and he made me prove it. By the end of 2000, I had met Holland the drunk. Addendum - I just read the continuing chapters of this saga, up through 2003, which is as far as I've gotten. I had an "A-ha" moment. It was saddening but enlightening and just changed the course of my relationship with AZ. Lo once told me I was a healer. Being an empath, you get used to drawing people to you that are in emotional crisis. Like a good salve, we draw out the poison, but to do so without poisoning ourselves takes a certain finesse. Luckily, I know when I'm in over my head. I know when to duck and run. I know when to dive for cover. I know how to keep myself from being poisoned. Yes, the last year of this saga will either be the end of my relationship with AZ or it will be the beginning of another long road for us.

The Fourteen Years War - 1999 - Volume II

A month after I moved in, you’ll never guess who moved in with me. No, not AZ or Jeff, but Lo and Danlel, Jeff’s wife and daughter. The rent on their apartment had raised and Lo was unwilling to move back in with her parents. So, they stayed with me for a month. In that month, I went for my first psychic reading and Jeff tried some shitty custody thing with Danlel, saying Lo wasn’t providing a home for her. Bullshit. Kind of hard to say she isn’t providing a home when I had a roof and four walls. It may have been my roof and walls but what was the difference in that and living with Lo’s parents, the same exact place they went every time they had separated. Pffft! We got Danlel back. This would be a good time to mention that Jeff didn’t officially become Nate’s father until July 7th, 1998. The day before Nate’s second birthday. Jeff had refused to sign the custody papers in the hospital because he didn’t want his name published along with mine and Nate’s in the newspaper. And, for the record, Nate has MY last name, even though we could have changed it. Jeff didn’t push it and I left it. As for my reading, besides picking up on Jeff, the psychic asked to see something that belonged to me, so I gave her the key to my house. What she said blew me away. She said (paraphrasing) - The dark eyed, dark haired man has this same key and he’s used it to enter your home. Whoa. Years later... AZ and I were talking and he told me, “You know, I think I have a key to your house on this old key ring of mine. I’m positive this your key.” By then, I had already changed the locks but it didn’t matter. So long after the fact, the little voice in my head and the psychic were confirmed to be correct. Jeff and I had met an uneasy truce and he started seeing Nate regularly, and helped with child care and pre-school, although he whined about me buying the house, saying he had always hoped that he and I would buy a house together. Whatever. At the very end of 1999, AZ came to my house and basically, we had a moment. I won’t relate what happened, only that it lead to more questions about his relationship with Jean and his own happiness. It would take another 10 months to find out the answers I wanted.

Cease Fire - 4th of July

I’d like to wish everyone a wonderful 4th of July holiday. Nate and I went to the fireworks last night and heard our wonderful symphony orchestra play. The themes from “Superman” and “E.T.” as well as selections from “South Pacific” and an Armed Forces salute, “God Bless America” and “Colors of the Wind” from Pocahontas. It was really beautiful, until I noticed those storm clouds coming in from the west. I thought maybe it was just heat lightning until I felt that cool wind blowing. Bad news. Can you say, “Deluge.” They announced at 15 after 10 that the storm was in my town and heading our direction with high winds and hail. Can you say, “Mass exodus?” Sure ya can. Nate’s sister called from across the river (amazingly she and her grandfather were exactly across the river from us) and said she had talked to Jeff and he said it was already raining there. I took Nate and headed toward my office building, which had a clearer path than the parking garage but as we came out of the narrow alley saw sheets of rain coming down the street. We turned and ran for an underground parking garage. Have you ever seen blue lightning? I have. Nate said, “Mommy, I didn’t know you could run that fast.” I said, “Dude, Mommy ran track.” While we escaped the majority of the storm, many had to take shelter in doorways and one person was injured when lightning struck about 30 ft. from them at the amphitheater where we had just been. Blue frickin’ lightning! It was one of those storms where the lightning hasn’t even faded before the thunder is cracking overhead, right on top of you. Mother Nature definitely showed up those firework schmucks. Now, Nate and I are both sunburned from a day at the pool. I was right, Beth. That red sun last night boded well for our sunbathing and swimming plans. Nate and I also went to the cinema and picked up pre-sale tickets for the midnight showing of “Pirates of the Caribbean - Dead Man’s Chest.” I’m crazy, I know. The movie starts at 12:01 a.m., runs for 2 hours and 41 minutes, then the mass exodus (I like that term today) and hopefully we’ll be home by 3 a.m. and I have to be up by 6 a.m. for work. I’m napping before we go. AZ is out of town and asked me to keep an eye on things at the shop, particularly one person. I was at the shop for 45 minutes yesterday and we already have a lot to talk about. I don’t like it when people take advantage of other people. I like it less when it’s my friends. I like even less when it’s AZ, and it just plain pisses me the fuck off when he lets them because he’s either too tired, too busy, or too fucking nice. Just call me “Don Peach Corleone,” it’s not personal, it’s business. This is our INDEPENDENCE DAY!

The Fourteen Years War - 1999 - Volume I

By late January, AZ had talked me into applying for a mortgage loan. I wanted to be pre-approved so that whenever I found a place I wouldn’t have to worry about the loan issue. I was approved and we started scanning the market for a good place for me and Nate. Being alone together, without fear of interruption, was still not our forte. At the house on Hudson Street, standing in the emptiness of the living room, he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. It was like it was us looking for a home, not just me. Once we were at the real estate office together and were caught in a compromising position by the fax machine. *Laugh* However, he was still with Jean. I knew something was wrong there, but still couldn’t figure out what. AZ avoided my questions and often mumbled and murmured about what was going on. Anytime we were alone, he was very affectionate with me, like he was starved for it. I know AZ and I know how he is, I knew something was wrong. Whether unwilling to tell me or unwilling to admit it to himself, it went undiscussed. AZ called a day or two after my grandmother passed away in April and told me in no uncertain terms to meet me at a particular house. I felt as though it was out of my price range but AZ insisted that I meet him there. It was everything I had ever wanted. Close to the train tracks, three bedrooms, nice yard for Nate, and roses were already planted beside of the porch. I told him I would think about it and the following day I called and told him I wanted to make an offer on the house. We met at the real estate office to fill out the paperwork and when I told him the price, he gave me a classic AZ look. "Just do it, they can counteroffer if they want to." He agreed and put it down and took my earnest money. That was on a Saturday. The next day would have been my grandmother’s birthday so I went back to the homestead to spend time with my family. When I got home, there were seven calls from AZ on my Caller ID. He was at an open house and was calling to tell me they had accepted my offer. The next month I spent getting the house inspected and preparing to move. At the closing, AZ and I sat side by side, across the table from the other realtor and the lawyer. As I was signing my life away for the next 30 years, AZ started making snarky comments under his breath about the other realtor and then started the "LOVE-ly" thing. "LOVE-ly" was a sarcastic, roll your eyes, LOVE-ly. He was making me giggle under my breath and I whispered for him to stop but he kept on until I joined in. Then, to make Freud proud, out slipped, "I love you." Yep, right there in my closing. My mouth dropped open and AZ looked a bit surprised as well. Then while my face turned red and I wanted to wither away in my seat, AZ smiled. Eventually, all of the papers were signed and AZ dangled the key out to me. I almost asked, "Did you keep a copy for yourself?" Inside, a tiny voice answered, "He already has one." I know the look on my face must have changed briefly but I smiled and took the key.

The Fourteen Years War - 1998 - Volume I and Only One

I spent most of my time working through my problems and dealing with the previous two years, rebuilding my relationship with my parents and AZ, while keeping Jeff at arm’s length. Jeff and his brother decided they wanted to take the kids on vacation and Jeff asked me to go to help out with an almost two year old Nate. Nate had not spent more than a weekend away from me and he was concerned that he would miss me too much. Jeff said it would be strictly platonic. I didn’t stay the entire trip as I had to work but it was enough to get Nate acclimated. A few weeks following the trip, Jeff dropped the bomb on me about wanting us to get back together. He and I met and we walked around the track together. He said, "Why do you think I asked you to go on the trip? Because I love you!" That manipulative asshole, I told him I couldn’t. I didn’t feel the same way and I had feelings for someone else. He badgered me about who and I told him, "AZ." I told him that I didn’t know if things would ever work out between AZ and I but I didn’t care, I wasn’t going to be with Jeff. Jeff’s shoulders slumped and a look of resignation and defeat came across his face. He said, "You probably should have been with him all along." I found out later that he had also attempted a reconciliation with Lo. She actually went back to him, but left within a few months and never went back. Sometime later, we met again at a local watering hole and gave me an accumulation of all the cards, letters, photographs, and other mementoes collected over our time together. It’s still in the drawer in my bedroom. I know he kept a few things and that’s okay. Around Halloween, I cut 12 inches off of my hair and daringly took Nate with me to a remote the radio station was having. When I got out of my car, I saw AZ in the distance and it took my breath away. I said to myself, "Oh my God, I still love him." Afterwards, AZ told me he was studying for his realtor’s license. I promised him if he passed, I would buy a house from him. He did pass. I followed through on my word and using the money I had obtained from a car accident, paid off my debts, and put money back for a down payment. One incident that I recall from late 1998, was going to Monday Night Football and seeing AZ there. I walked up to the bar where he was sitting to ask about a drawing they were having. A woman at the bar turned and answered for him. AZ didn’t turn, look at me, or speak. I was shocked and went back to my table shaking my head. He called me the following day to apologize, telling me the woman was one of Jean’s friends and basically, he didn’t want to get into trouble for talking to me. I reminded him it was his job to be friendly and nice to everyone and more so, I had never ignored him. I asked him what kind of relationship they had when he couldn’t even speak to another woman for fear of getting the riot act. He had no answer. I was deeply concerned.

The Fourteen Years War - 1997 - Volume II

A week or so later, I broke it off with Jeff for the last time. Jeff got drunk and came down to my place crying and weeping, broiling for a fight. It did him no good. Unemotionally, I told him it was finally over. I wouldn’t keep Nate from him but I was moving on. Emotionally, I was clinging to AZ. I needed that stability and encouragement. No one really believed for a while that Jeff and I would stay apart. I believed it. I told AZ one Sunday that one of the reasons I had stayed with Jeff was because I didn’t think anyone else would want me. My body had changed and I referenced my trip to the grocery store. AZ said, "I know you didn’t want to see me and I hoped you had gotten the message. And, I would still press you up against a building anytime." That being a reference to one our trysts in which he had me up against the outside of the radio station, under the tree, the night the train hit a car at the crossing, and the helicopter flew over. He was good for my soul. Nate spent his first Christmas with Jeff’s family that year. Jeff still had something up his sleeve for the coming year. . . but so did I.