Tomato Soup

It's 2:30 in the afternoon. I'm sitting in front of my computer, staring at a game I'm tired of playing but too distracted to close the browser window. My tomato soup in the coffee mug next to me is still steaming, but the heat warms my hands. It's a shame I can't hold the mug with my feet, I think to myself. My toes are so cold my toenails have all turned a lovely shade of bluish purple. They always remind me of Christmas lights for some reason when they go that color. The blue house lights are always my favorite...

My thoughts wander here and there throughout the day. I know what must be done, but getting there won't be an easy road.

I take another sip of my tomato soup in a mug, the thickness filling my mouth and surrounding my teeth with a warm blanket of flavor. I've always loved tomato soup. A car insurance commercial comes on the television and instinctively I reach for the mute button on the remote. The noise makes it hard to think. I turn the volume back up right away though... I've done enough thinking lately. I need a distraction.

Another sip. Another sigh. Another weak moment. Finally the show comes back on. Two and a Half Men always seems to make me forget my own dramas and helps me to realize how lucky I really am to have this life that I've got. Ironic - the star (Charlie Sheen) has everything but love, and yet he's not happy. He's got a career playing the piano. He has a gorgeous house in Malibu. He has a brother he's close to, a nephew he sees all the time, and more beautiful women walking through his door than a Victoria's Secret with a turnstyle. Yet he's not happy.

I haven't ever really cared about material things... big, fancy houses and fast, sporty cars aren't that important to me. I don't need diamonds or rubys. I don't want expensive clothes. All I've ever wanted was to be remembered and loved. I've got that. I should be happier than I am at the moment, but something is preventing me. It's a big something. But it's only a hiccup. We'll get past this.

Another sip of my tomato soup and it's gone, I realize. I suppose it's time to run some hot water in the sink so I can wash the dishes.

My Greatest Addiction

There are many things that the human race has been addicted to since the beginning of time. Probably one of the first and most primal addictions was adrenaline. The cave man knew not why he enjoyed the hunt so much other than the feeling of accomplishment once the kill was on its way home to feed his fellow tribesman and woman. What he didn't realize was that a catecholamine secreted by the adrenal medulla in response to stress was stimulating an autonomic nerve action; in other words, an adrenaline rush. A day in the life of a Neanderthal wasn't overly exciting, I imagine. Suddenly, during the thrill of a chase, the danger of the kill, he felt alive. He felt new and refreshed, like there was a reason he was alive. His body tingled with the very sensation. His hearing was more keen, his sight more honed in, and his nose far more sensitive. He could feel every breath of air that swept past his bare arms.


Man has had the grand misfortune of finding many more highly addictive substances over the past couple of million years, some of which we've discovered how to fabricate for ourselves. The number of drug and alcohol addictions in this country is staggering!


One must wonder who it was who discovered that this horrible, tiny, hard, bitter bean would be wonderfully pungent and delicious once ground into dust and hot water was filtered through it. Did you know that Americans use more than 2.3 billion pounds of coffee beans each year? We are addicted to caffeine!


But my addiction is none of these. My addiction is something much more serious, and taken with a much more lighthearted attitude. My addiction is love. Some of you may sneer, jeer, jest, heckle, and just plain roll your eyes at this. Others may say that I'm either crazy or headed that way. Maybe so! All I know is that I love to be loved. I enjoy that feeling. I crave it! And I know that when I cant get the love I crave from the source I so desperately want it from, I become a very sad person. Its a horrible addiction, and one that I feel I am on the road to recovering from. I do not wish to live for that feeling. I don't want be depressed, sad, or lonely when I feel I don't get the attention I want. There will be times in my life when I wont be able to have that attention and I must learn to live with that. Just knowing that the one I've decided to give my own heart to loves me should be enough but I crave that interaction between two hearts and souls; that beautiful moment when nothing else in the world matters but the two in love.


I have known many that said they loved me, far less that meant it, and far fewer than that whom I have ever loved in return. Still, I let those who loved me believe that the feeling was mutual so as not to loose their love. Was that bad? Was it wrong? I believe it was, and yet I could not help myself for so long. Every time I had the opportunity to let one of those people I did not love fade off into the background, I seemed to pull them back in and dangle that carrot just out of reach once more.


It took so long to grow into the person I've become. I know now what I want in life, I know how to let go of those I do not and can not love, while at the same time holding tightly to those I do. I know finally what real love feels like. I know it's waiting for me - just patiently waiting. He's right there. Maybe he's waiting for an email or a text message from me... but he's out there. Very soon now, I'll be looking into his eyes as he looks deep into mine, soul mates seprated too long ago and forced into strange lives we were never meant to live appart.

Night Thoughts

The Beep beep beep as a truck backs up somewhere in the distance...
The rumble of the motor when it finally stops, purring somewhere in the darkness...
The sounds of the passing cars on the street...
A truck revs its motor at a stop light, ready to roar off into the night...

I hear it all from my bedroom on the third floor.
I see it all clearly from the window.
These things that would annoy or pester most everyone I know are the things that lull me to sleep at night when I'm laying here alone.

It's nights like this I miss having someone there with me the most. He's out there, and I can only pray he's thinking of me right now, too... waiting for me, wishing for me... wanting me...

I close my eyes and let the slight dizziness from complete exhaustion take over me for a moment. When I open my eyes again, dawn will have broken and the world will be waking up again. I will have made it through another lonely night.

Someday ...
Someday it wont be like this.
When that someday comes, it will never be like this again.

Sleep, take me now. Guide me into sweet thoughts and dreams. Let me see, if only for a few hours with my eyes closed, exactly the way I imagine life should be.

Soaring Hopes

I have a fear of commitment.
That sounds like quite an odd statement for someone who has been married, but keep in mind I've been married twice and divorced twice.

(Photo taken in 2002
on Catalina Island)

I've finally committed to something; several things in fact.
I committed myself to taking care of my cat. That should be obvious by my other posts.
I'm committed to taking care of myself. Odd statement, yes - but it's not something I've always been committed to.
I'm committed to my job and my boss. Where would I be without them? I certainly wouldn't be able to take care of myself!


But I'm also committed to you, my readers. I'm writing EVERY DAY because I know you're there, you're listening and you're reading. I'm committed to sharing with you for as long as I have stories to share.





I stumbled across some blogger by the name of Pioneer Woman earlier this morning. While it seems the rest of the world had already discovered this amazing person, aparently I'm a little late to the game.


It all started when I discovered a comment on my latest blog signed "PW". Try as I might, I couldn't come up with anyone I knew who had the innitials of PW. My friend Vicki asked if there was a possibility that it was this infamous blogger, one of the most successful bloggers of our time. Since I didn't know the person at all, I decided that there was no way it could have been them. Whomever left the comment with the innitials PW was someone I had known well enough to tell a shortened version of my Kidnap story to - and there aren't many of those. Still, I had stumbled onto an amazing blog and spent hours reading various things.


Pioneer Woman blogs about daily life, her kids, and living out in the country. They heard cattle, have many horses, and the King of the Ranch is a bassett hound named Charlie. Pioneer Woman blogs about recipes, home schooling, trips and vacations, photography and Home and Garden. She has give-aways, sponsors and contests. But she also has a wonderful love story that completely swept me away for hours on end. I'm still not done reading it. She has the "Happy Ending" we all search for and deserve.


This remarkable woman has boosted my hopes about as much as seeing how many of you are DAILY readers of my blogs these days. My hopes are soaring high, knowing that each time I tell a story, there's someone, somewhere out there who wants to be an audience. Maybe I don't have as many people reading my stories as the Pioneer Woman does, but with hope and continued commitment, we can get there.


Thanks, to everyone, for your comments and support.