Fractured Thoughts

Betty Goes to the Marine Corps Birthday Ball

 I attended my first Marine Corps Birthday Ball while I was stationed at MCRD San Diego.    My date wore  dress blues and I wore a blue velvet dress that was very fashionable in the late 60′s.  It was a night to remember.  The music, the food,  the atmosphere was electric.  I remember the joking and the laughter around the table.  It felt good.  And we needed to feel good.  We needed the night to let our hair down, not talk shop and just have fun.  My date, who became my fiance, then just my good friend (that’s another story) worked in personnel in the Generals building .  So did I.  I worked  in the communications center where all classified messages came in via teletype. We were privy to names of the deceased coming home from Viet Nam in body bags.  The event was not a time to think about the war or the friends and family members we lost.    We were there to have fun and we did.  We had a ball!

Horoscope Real or Fake?

I’m addicted to reading horoscopes. Before the arrival of computers and the internet my  morning didn’t start until I read the horoscope section in the paper.  Now, while other morning risers grab for coffee or a ciggarette, I’m  clicking on the computer and surfing all the bookmarked horoscope sites to start my day.  I’m an air sign Gemini, the twins.  I really do fit the personality description for Gemini so I’ve been content to go with it all these years.  Recently, with all the news about about a 13th sign, I’ve begun to question whether horoscopes are real or fake.  According to new data I’m now an earth sign, Tarus, the Bull.  Ok.  So all these years I’ve been reading and abiding by Gemini information that really wasn’t meant for me?  Do you know how upsetting this is to me?  The fact that I’ve spent most of my life following  directions that weren’t really meant for me has my head spinning.  If I had lived my life according to Tarus horoscopes where would I be now?

Where Have I Been?

Where Have I Been all these months?  When I started this blog my goal was to write…a lot.  I told myself I would write every day or at least twice a week.  What happened?  Life, that’s what.  And in my defence I got hit with a virus and lost almost everything on my computer.  Several tecky friends tried to save it, but gave up.  The computer sat idle for months until my friend decided to try one more thing.  It worked!  I’ll be forever in her debt and pay her back by watching her trio of cats whenever she is out of town.

So, now I’m back and going to back track and try to fill in all the blank months. I’m anal that way.  I have the obsessive need to put things in order. A lot has happened since March 2010 the last time I posted anything.  And I’ve decided to share my blog.  By that I’m no longer afraid to have people read what I’m writing.  When I started my blog I needed to vent, sometimes to rage about the embarrassment and  humiliation I was going through.  I also needed to remember the goodness of my friends and family and yes, remember the good times with HIM.  I laughed while I was writing and I cried.  Writing is theraputic.  It’s better then a pill in a bottle.

DEADWOOD DOLLS

Until I moved and started unpacking boxes of pictures that had been stored away for years I had forgotten some of the fun times I’ve had with my friends. Living in a small town in Wyoming I acquired a lot of good friends. Along with keeping journals my pictures bring to mind a lot of things I never want to forget. Marge, one of my dearest and best friends, is part of some of my craziest memories. Marge and I never seemed to get bored. We did dance aroebics, lifted weights, organized teen beauty pagents, put on melodramas, organized fashion shows, hired male strippers for fund raising for the Jaycees and when we could get away for a few days found exciting places to go. Deadwood, for those of you that have never been to South Dakota, is a fun way to spend a weekend. You can gamble, dance, be entertained and meet some very famous people.

Marge and I spent so much time together that people often said we looked alike. I think she’s beautiful so I was always flattered when someone got us mixed up…and that happened a lot.

Christmas Not My Favorite Time of Year

Let’s see. I believe it’s been well over six months since I last wrote on my blog. I’ve been a busy girl. Sold my house. Was “our” house, but since he so willingly gave it up in the divorce I made payments for over a year then decided to sell and down size. Did I share the money with him? Are you kidding? Actually, there was a moment when I realized I was going to make twice what we bought the house for that I offered to share if he would help finish all the projects he had started and left. I think he wanted to, but he admitted his girlfriend told him he wasn’t allowed to talk to me let alone be around me. Too funny. So, I did what any ex wife would do. I did what I could to the inside and focused on our beautiful yard. And the realtor was sure that the yard was a major selling point. It was on the market two days and I got two offers. It was stressful doing everything myself, but I learned a lot. After the sale I bought something smaller with two lots and paid cash. No house payments!! It’s all mine. It’s not the big house I had, but just knowing I own it and don’t owe a dime has allowed me to sleep at night. This is not where I want to be forever, but it’s perfect for now.

Thanksgiving with my kids in Rapid City was wonderful. A house full of my kids and grandkids. It was just what I needed. You see Thanksgiving with my ex was always a full house. In order to allow the kids to go to their in laws we had Christmas at Thanksgiving. We decorated the tree upstairs and one downstairs. We feasted on great food, played games, watched movies and opened presents. Then everyone was off and the ex and I spent Christmas with his family on the reservation. It was perfect. It worked for everyone. Anyway, when we separated and then divorced all the holiday spirit just left me. Thanksgiving was harder then Christmas. That first year I stayed home and didn’t go anywhere. Christmas I helped at our local art center. That’s me on Santa’s lap looking happier then I felt inside. This year I spent Christmas alone…had invitations, but just wanted to decorate the house and think about my future. I got the house decorated, but not sure I made any future plans.

I can’t believe it’s already March. Three more months of school then what? I’m optimistic that something good is coming my way. Not sure what, but I’m going to be ready for it.

Diggin up Bones

For a year and a half I’ve put off going through pictures.  And when I moved I boxed them all up, framed ones too and haven’t put any out in my new home.  For one thing my much smaller place just doesn’t have the rooms or walls that my old house did.  For another…of course the pictures of the kids and grandkids will eventually find a spot, but the boxes of my past are the ones I’m avoiding.  It’s the ex pictures that I’m avoiding.  I have them all.  All fifteen years of our life together are piled in neatly stacked boxes.  I kept them all.  During an argument, about the time I boxed and bagged all his things and threw them in the garage, I said I’d give him some of the pictures.  He shouted back that he didn’t want them, that I could keep all of his personal stuff.  I know he said it out of anger, that he would really like to have all of his fishing and golfing pictures, but I took him at his word.  They are now mine.  And so now what do I do with them?  As my personal property I could scan them and use them on my blog.  Why?  I’ve given this a lot of thought.  Now that the hurt and anger has passed I’ve forced myself to focus on the good things about our relationship.  We had a lot of good years together.  We had a lot of fun and happy times.  And since this blog will eventually be read by my children I want them to know me, my life and not just remember the break up and sad times.  So, as time rolls on you may see pictures of my ex and even some of us together.

Spring Anyone?

It’s supposed to be in the 50′s today.  Cloudy right now, but it feels springish.  I just finished shampooing my living room carpet.  Melting snow has a few muddy spots in the yard and of course that’s exactly where my dog and cat tromp through.  Short of stopping them at the door and wiping each muddy paw I just let them in and deal with the mess.  I am so ready for warm weather and just aching to plant things.  Anything.  My old house had a beautiful yard with huge pine trees and perrenials coming up everywhere.  I do miss the yard…not the house…just the yard.  My new place is wide open spaces.  One lone smallish pine tree , a couple of bushes and lots and lots of grass.  I’m still debating on how to go about landscaping this place.  The golf course, hole number 7 to be exact is just out my back door.  And the so called city green belt runs along my property line.  Sounds nice, huh?  It is, but the deer are crazy about it.  I’ve come home late in the evening and counted at least 15 deer grazing in my yard.  Picture postcard perfect, but a real pain when it comes to all the deer poop.  Not to mention the issues I’m going to have trying to plant flowers and a garden.  I may be able to fence part of it, but I don’t know.  I’m trying to watch my budget and fencing would take quite a chunk out of it.  Honestly, we have so many deer here that you can’t drive or walk a block without seeing at least one grazing in someone’s yard.  I love animals and I think the deer are beautiful, but there’s just too many to deal with.  I’m looking out the window right now and yes, the deer are out there.  If anyone knows of a way to discourage them camping in your yard please let me know.  I’m ready for spring  just not ready for the deer.

IT’S A BUTT TRICK NIGHT

Last night I played darts. I’m a sub for a friends team at a local sports bar. Every couple of weeks I get a call to fill in for someone. What do I know about darts? Absolutely nothing. I’m bad. Really. While the rest of the team is yelling, “go for a triple 3″ I’m practically closing my eyes and praying I hit the board…anywhere on the board. I had no idea people took this game so seriously. Some of them spend hours practicing and actually follow tournaments across the state.

When I was first asked to play I watched a couple of teams compete before I gave them my answer. At first I said no. Hey, I didn’t want anyone yelling at me. And yes, these guys get depressed when they lose. But they talked me into it and so every other week night or so I’m off to dart league. Since playing darts I’ve added several new phrases to my vocabulary. Anybody care to define “butt trick?” Me either.

I don’t know about other small towns, but this dart competition is serious stuff here. And the five bars hosting the leagues (yes, five bars in this small town of 3,000 people…no make that seven bars) have standing room only on dart night. People that don’t play darts jam the bars just to watch the boisterous antics of some of the players. Most players are there for fun and an evening out, but you also have the die hard competitors that question every throw and end the evening yelling and arguing about stats and unfair throws. Tempers flare, games are forfeited and rescheduled. I have to admit it can be entertaining. I haven’t seen anyone go to blows yet, but I’m thinking it’s just a matter of time.

If Wishes Were Horses

Who knew that at this late in life I’d rekindle my love of horses? I certainly didn’t. Last summer a friend asked me to go riding with him. Not yet divorced and trying to wade through emotional and financial drama I begged off stating that I wasn’t ready to try anything new. He asked again in the fall…I had more excuses. Yes, I’ve ridden a horse. But it was a long time ago. When I was young we lived a few miles from what we called the “Pony Farm.” For a few dollars you could pick a horse and ride the trails for hours. Then when I lived in San Diego I used to ride in Cleveland National forest at a place similar to the Pony Farm. The horses were old, slow, plodding along the trails they were safe. Safe. That’s an important word. Safe didn’t mean much to me when I was young and dumb, but now, at my age, safe is aan important word in my vocabulary.

This summer I finally said yes and spent three days riding in our beautiful Gallatin mountains in Montana.

Horses are big animals. I had forgotten how big until I stood beside the horse I was to ride. Up until the time I was actually with the horses I looked forward to time in the mountains.  Looking up at my horse and trying to figure out how i was going to get my 5′ 2″ body up on the saddle I suddenly realized that I didn’t know crap about horses, that this is Big Sky country and I’m no cow girl. This could hurt. I could fall off. Get bucked off. Worse yet…I could cry. My friend, a really nice guy, smiled then offered me his knee as a bench. Up on my horse I must have looked confused. My feet were dangling, the stirrups a mile a way. It took awhile to fix things, but once my friend adjusted everything all the while muttering “should have brought a kids saddle,” I was ready to ride.

As soon as my horse started to move I was over come with doubt. Will I make a fool of myself? How far will we ride? Will I be sore and beg to stop? I’m happy to say we rode for miles and I stayed in the saddle the whole time. We saw deer, elk, fox, all sorts of small animals and a bear. It was wonderful! It was exhilarating. For three days we rode from six am till almost dark then shared drinks at the local watering hole. I was proud of myself. It was just what I needed to boost my self confidence. I returned home a new woman. Why? I don’t really know. It was an empowering three days. It was a romantic three days without intimacy. My friend is just that…my friend. I think he knew that I needed to get away. I think he knew that time with the horses, the mountains, communing with trees and surrounded by wildlife would give me the boost I needed to get on with my life.

Why Write a Personal Blog

I started blogging a couple of years ago.  I didn’t do it for fame.  I just needed an outlet for writing.  I used to write for newspapers and was lucky enough to have a few articles published in magazines.  That was when I had six kids at home along with a dog, two cats and numerous rabbits.  There was always something to write about.  I was a stay at home mom up to my ears in laundry and daily crisis.  I shared my life with others in my weekly columns and was always amazed that people actually enjoyed hearing about my life.  Then my kids grew up, I divorced and I stopped writing.  I remarried and let the writing part of my life slip away.  Strange as it sounds it was my second husband (ouch) that nagged me to start writing again.  That’s when blogging came into my life. 

I started with the Google blogs and kept it up for awhile.  Actually I wrote quite a bit and it felt good knowing that any talent I used to have ,although a bit rusty, was still there.  I stopped when I went through a second divorce (ouch ouch).  An emotional mess with the knowledge that the man I considered my most trusted best friend in the world had betrayed me  I deleted my blog and again let my passion to write slip away.  Last year my oldest son was the one to encourage me to write.  At this point I’ve only allowed a few to read my fractured thoughts.  Writing a personal blog is sometimes too personal.  When I started this blog I was hesitant to share my life.  It’s scarey to pour your thoughts and heart out on paper all the while wondering what others will think.  My first entry took me weeks to write.  I wrote and deleted a dozen times.  I’d write an entry then before I posted it read it and cringe at the thought of sharing it with family, friends, the world.  I don’t remember exactly when I decided that  I didn’t care about what others would think.  I was tired of worrying about other people.  Now, when I write, it’s an extremely liberating feeling…powerful.  Do I care who reads it?  Yes and no.  There are some things I would prefer my children not know…that I’m human?  Made mistakes?  But for the most part I write for me.  It makes me feel good.  True,  I’m still a bit timid about sharing some things, but I’m getting braver.  Some friends have been blogging and have shared their sites with me.  I love reading their blogs!  I laugh and cry with them.  I’m seeing the inside of their lives not just the outside and I feel closer to them.  True, blogging is not for everyone.  It’s a tough choice to air your crazy thoughts and dirty laundry with friends let alone complete strangers.  It’s like finding someones personal diary and hiding away to read their most intimate thoughts.  I’m thankful that people are willing to share and soon I’ll do the same…