Day 53 (or: Now THIS is a Contest for Me!)

Literati!! 50 ways and 100 words to leave your lover! Our new contest “SIMON SAYS”

Hehe. I've got about One Thousand Days worth of ways to leave my lover.

Day 53 of One Thousand Days, I fancy myself a writer. I curbed my tongue (er...fingers) and wrote only 100 words about the Leaving of the The Bad Relationship, and I'm going to submit it to actual authors for their...er...approval? No. That's not it. I don't care about approval. Perusal.  Yes. That's the word. 

My entry, exactly 100 words on one of the 50 ways to leave a lover, and feel free to use this the next time you're leaving someone:

Food For Thought
The pancakes pleaded: “Please leave?”  The alphabet soup sounded out: “get out!”  The spaghetti, in cursive, politely told you your time was up.  Last night, the chocolate sauce you licked off my belly read: “I’m done” – granted, it was dark, and I didn’t really expect you to be able to read it.  But I had hoped…I burned the word DEPART into the toast, and between the grill lines on that steak, one could clearly read the anguish of all these years. This evening, in joyful, succinct and unmistakable terms, I’ll leave you with this one last thought:  An empty plate.

53 down, 947 to go. 

Day 52 (or: I've been Called)

Alright.  Hold onto your hats, because it's about to get a little weird up here in the blog.
Woo-woo weird. 

But life's like this sometimes, and one of the things that I've realized, slowly, since letting go of The Bad Relationship, and Corporate Life (alright - both of those things let go of me, but who's counting?), is that there's a message in the silence, in the moments in between.  We can listen to those messages or we can ignore them, and on Day 52 of One Thousand Days, I chose to listen.

Okay.  That last paragraph was only slightly woo-woo, but NOW it's going to get positively bizarre, so I really can't blame you if you want to skip down the page a bit.  Here's what's been going on:  I belong to a fellowship (read:  "church"), where I have been a volunteer youth educator on and off throughout the years, for various ages of kiddos.  This year, I agreed again to be an educator for the Middle School kids.  Ever since I made that agreement, I've been having all of these near-ESP-ish moments of synchronicity, in which someone repeats something I've been thinking on for a day or so, or I dream something that then happens the next day, or my thoughts settle on something that eventually is reality within the week. 

If you read through that paragraph, I TOLD YOU SO!  Weird.  Eventually this strangeness convinced me (hold on to your boots!) that I was being "called."  Called to be involved with the kiddos, and specifically involved with the kiddos QUUF in my sweet little home town. 

So I offered myself (weird ESP story and all) to our "church" Youth R(eligious) E(ducation) Director, and came home with the promise of more Middle School Madness than is healthy for any sane person (as I've demonstrated here, my sanity may be in question, so I'm PERFECT for the job!), and a craft project!  I LOVE CRAFTS! 

Day 52 of One Thousand Days, I'm going to put together the scrap book for the Youth Coming of Age program my son (that's him in the upper-center of the photo, below) and about 15 other kiddos went through last year.  Hurrah!

52 Down, 948 to go.

Oh, and I fluffed up the logo...it's not drastically different, but it's different!

Day 51 (or: Chase the blues away)

Today, oh glorious Day of Days, I woke up to find that those little ads over there to the right had earned me my first $.01! I'm a bona-fide, actual-like, professional blogger!  Well, now that I'm all legitimate, I have to think carefully about how I invest all $.01.  And to my mind, I should NOT invest in corporations which are counter to my ideals.  If a company puts single mothers on the street?  Right.  Not going to give them my money.  And if a company steals from little old ladies?  Oh hell no.  They're not getting MY money, the thieves!  And if a company kills baby seals?  Steals childrens' candy?  Kicks stray dogs? Makes fashion handbags out of old-growth timber?  Right again, they're not getting a (alright, my only) penny from me, the scumbags!

Well, the only thing that I know for sure The-Big-Bad-Corporate-Bank-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless has done is steal from little old ladies (I know a little old lady who's been most alarmingly conned by the smiling clerks in the blue shirts), although I suspect they're probably tangentially involved in all of the rest of those wicked activities above, and MORE.  So today, Day 51 of One Thousand Days, in solidarity with the Occupy Wall Street movement, and in support of my favorite little old lady, I emptied my bank accounts, and deposited the money in my new (old) Chases Chocolate Bank, where it will remain until I deposit it tomorrow at one of the local community oriented credit unions or local banks.

I feel so much better.  No more kicking stray dogs.  51 down, 949 to go.

Day 50 (Or: It only took 1,648 days...)

Wondering what happened to Mr. Wrong?  As my morning begins to unfold, and the call of the siren Internet pulls me and my ever constant mug-o-coffee to the keyboard, I know I am.  Wondering, that is.  And you know what?  I think, after 1,648 grueling days, I've fiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnaaaaaaalllly managed to wipe the Bad Relationship from my life. 

"Now what", you ask?  Thinking that there won't be any more hilarious bloggy admissions of midnight smooching, and elicit emails to confess. Lamenting the possibility that you won't be able to shake your head at the ridiculous and grasping antics of a (very cute and funny) spurned lover, as she struggles to find love and acceptance in all the wrong places.  Right now, you're leaning over your morning coffee and you're wondering if life on One Thousand Days will ever be the same, and you're (admit it) a little bit concerned. 

You may even be thinking:  "But, darling...Who will you think about when you've got nothing else to think about? Who will you exchange late night naughty text messages with?  Who will leave the lingering smell of wood and soap on your pillow? Who will move that huge piece of concrete out of your driveway?"

Well, since you asked, I'll tell you:  I'll think about what vegan and sugar free (mildly disgusting, but tasty once you get past the gag factor) melange to cook for dinner, I'll write funny and scathing Facebook status updates, I'll enjoy not being allergic to my own pillow and I'll bury the piece of concrete under a foot of pebbles - you'll never even know it was there.  Hah! 

Now, who's up for fixing me up with a friend?  I've got to fuel this blog somehow, or it'll be boring me-me-me ness for the next 950 days.  This is what I'm looking for:

Day 49 (Or: I Look Up)

And in a moment of silence, rather than pointing my nose at the ground, rather than hanging my head in shame or reverence, I look up.  Not because there's something up there, or because I'm waiting to be shone on or to receive divine intervention and guidance, but because it's beautiful up there.

Really.

Even though the window is North facing, and doesn't capture the Westward traveling sun, what I see through that window reminds me that I am both small and great, one of many, and that the week will begin with this light, with my feet planted firmly on the ground, and my eyes gazing (what a pompous word, but that's what they're doing!) up and out.

Day 49 of One Thousand Days, Sunday, the beginning of the week, I look up.

49 down, 951 to go.