My Life is So Sweet!

Dale
I haven't been posting much lately, haven't had much time for computer stuff, or cleaning, or sleeping. My life has taken a turn for the fantastic! The guy in this picture is the reason why! Ok, so maybe it's not the best picture for showing off my boyfriend, but I will get some that are better. I like it because dang he's hot! Hangin on to that rock face in those shorts! hmmm So much better than chocolate!

Well, there it is. I have fallen really hard for this guy. Guess what? Feeling's mutual!

Maybe this weekend will bring some time to write about spooning. OH MY HECK!!!! Life is soooooo Great!

Gotta go now, time to get ready for tonights date!

I Offer You My Hand

My hand

I’ve been told that drawing hands is very difficult. I thought it was fun. I had a blast exaggerating the lines and shadows on my hand. The drawing makes my hand look much older, but it definitely has plenty of character.

Probably the most powerful symbol in human existence is the hand. The human hand is so unique with it’s opposable thumbs and limitless dexterity. The hand carries all of the trials and tribulations of a life. It boasts our greatest strengths and exposes our weaknesses. It is used to heal and harm, create and destroy, give and take, help and impair, hold and crush. Our hands offer our hearts to God.

Our hands do our bidding, whatever the cause.

Today I offer you mine.

Dale

I gave a great deal of consideration as to whether I should post this. I'm not sure I know exactly what it says about me, but I can't concern myself with what other people think. Maybe I'm afraid of a Godly reprimand. Maybe I'm afraid is not a good reason to not post this, though. After all, I have made a conscious decision to not base any more of my choices on fear.

So, here it is.

I love that you called me every day this week. Well, except for Wednesday because I called you first. I am so thrilled that you think about me so much, because I can’t stop thinking about you.

It sounds so ridiculous, but I have done everything that seems to have jinxed every past romance. I told all the girls at work, told you I liked you right away, I even bought new underwear. You still call. You still want me. It still feels right.

So Friday night finally came. I met you at Johnny Carino’s in my new outfit. I showed you my pictures of vacation spots and of my art. You were impressed. Cool.

We didn’t smooch much, not because I didn’t want to. I can show some patience, see? Then you took me home. To your home.

You gave me the tour of your house, and said you hoped I would live there with you someday. The tour ended in your bedroom. Ok, so this might be too fast, but what can I say. I don’t want to play games, and the honest truth is, I want this.

It was so wonderful to have a man touch me the way you touched me. Always lovingly, always gently, always warmly. You didn’t move too fast, I never felt rushed. Nothing happened until I was ready for it.
I always thought it was just a cliché, the way women gushed about feeling like they were one with their lover. I’d never felt it before, I thought they were making way too much out of nothing. I thought that until that wonderful night I spent with you. I really did wonder where I ended and you began.

You went on your long planned climbing vacation the next morning. You still call me when you have a signal. It’s a lot more work that a guy playing a girl would go to. I hid my match profile. It took me a little longer than it took you. I believe you really want this. I don’t think you are lying. So I will wait for you to get home Friday. I will give this new romance every chance to work. I am looking toward the future with hope.

I am really looking forward to really getting to know you. I want to learn to climb. I will learn more about you while you teach me than you would guess. It’s nice to know we’ll get there. I love that you want to be my boyfriend, and I am happy to be your girlfriend.

And I will take comfort in knowing that nothing has happened too fast, or not fast enough. It has and will happen just exactly how it should. I’m amazed. I asked for you, and there you are. That is the last jinxer you know - saying you are heaven sent! But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true, either.

Second Date

Neither of us wanted to wait until Friday. You called me on your way home from your ski trip Monday. You were concerned that it would be too late to go for a walk, but I insisted it wasn’t, I wanted so badly to see you, too badly.

I headed out ten minutes too early, and ended up watching the water overrun the giant pillars of basalt and crash into the river below. I tried to be patient, but my excitement exceeded my skill, and I checked the time every minute for the full ten minutes. I fanaticized a dozen ways to greet you, and forgot them all when you came.

You brought your dog, who seemed most uninterested in me. Perhaps she could tell that I wasn’t there to see her. Perhaps it was because she is just too laid back to express her feelings toward me in any outward manner. I wonder, did she like me?

We held hands and walked down the stairs of the Shoshone Falls outlook. The roar of the water couldn’t drown out the pounding of my heart. You decided that if a person drove a boat up under the falls, that he could climb right up the rock face of the falls. I’m really not sure what to think about that, but I know it is a part of you that I find fascinating.

We walked part-way up the centennial trail, and, when we found a private spot, we stopped. We kissed. Your lips were warm and gentle. You held me so close, stroked my hair, caressed my back. Your tongue was shy, so I teased it out. The taste of your mouth sent shocks of excitement throughout my entire body.

The night air took on a chill, but your body pressed against mine kept me warm and tingly. I never wanted to stop. You made me want to do things I shouldn’t even be thinking about yet. Is this moving to fast?

I can’t get over how comfortable I feel with you. I don’t have to prove my worth to you. When you touch me, I feel appreciated. When you look at me I feel beautiful. When you kiss me I feel. I can’t even say I know this feeling, I don’t think I have ever felt it before.

Oh, the chemistry is there. I recognize that. Every nerve ending in my body screams for your attention. Your touch brings to life every hair, every pore, every, well, let’s just say, I want you. I throb in places I forgot existed. I am alive, and vibrant. Inside I feel this can’t move fast enough. It feels so right.

Friday. It’s a long time to wait to hold you again.

First Date

I was so excited to get to meet you. I didn’t want to be early, waiting sucks. I didn’t want to be late, I have more respect for you than that. I was right on time. I was so nervous. You were standing there waiting, and I couldn’t believe how handsome you were.

There is something so classy about an outdoor adventurer. Dressed in black, tall, and gorgeous, you stood waiting with an air of confidence, but I could tell you were nervous. I was so happy to see you, and you seemed genuinely pleased to see me. I wanted to fall into your arms right at that moment, and stay there forever. I didn’t want to know more, I would be disappointed if you were different than my mind made you out to be.

We went into the restaurant prepared for a wait. Could you tell how nervous I was? Was it obvious that my stomach was turning somersaults, my heart swelling with excitement? I tried to calm myself. How amazing that I never felt I had to be anything but who I am. Nervous, excited, hopeful, but never insecure. I was immediately at ease with you.

The host seated us. We sat, pretending to study the menu, stealing glances of each other. I longed to run my fingers through your tousled, blonde hair, and gaze into your honest blue eyes for an eternity. You smiled at me so genuinely, crinkling your strong and dignified nose, and I tried to imagine your well manicured goatee tickling my chin. Your lips were a galaxy away.

Then the dance began. Probing questions were asked, never to the point but always leading to the right answers. How could it be? How could I have actually found another human being who really sees the world as I do? In Idaho! Our words reached out, whirling in circles, chasing, teasing, and catching each other. Before dinner came, they had formed into one single beautiful flame.

I told you some secrets, but not enough to spoil the mystery. The hours passed. All of a sudden it was silent. I looked up and no one was around. They had gone leaving us to each other. Only a handful of wait people lingered. They were so nice to let us stay so long after closing. We had to leave.

You walked me to my car, I dragged my feet. A little small talk and then…you wrapped your arms around me and held me close, and didn’t let go. Then you looked at me, you said something, I can’t remember what, then kissed me. Gently, warmly, perfectly.

I can’t stop thinking about you, and don’t want to. I can’t wait to see you again next Friday. You called me today! I am astounded that you feel the same way. You said so! I love the way this feels.

Memories

Charcoal Shells

This is one of my favorite charcoals because it brings back happy memories. The shells we got on vacation, the day I drew them was happy and peaceful. Not all of my memories are like that. As a matter of fact, my first memories were very unhappy.

Someone was up. I can still see the shaft of amber light that radiated beneath the door.
I was small, still just a baby, alone in my crib, and surrounded by an infinite darkness that was pierced only by that shaft of amber. I was ready to get up and go. I decided I could just climb right out of the crib, which is exactly what I tried to do. I had practiced this climb and was sure I could make it. I held on with everything I had and pulled myself up. Over the rim I flung my foot, and secured it on the other side. Ok, now what?

I was farther than I had ever been, and now, I was stuck! I had gone too far to get back into the crib, yet, if I let go now, I would fall into that abysmal darkness, to be lost forever. I was trying so hard to be quiet, it was not good to disturb mommy. I must have been crying because the door opened and there she was.

Her form silhouetted against the glow of the light behind her. Suddenly the abyss wasn’t so frightening, not compared to the wrath I knew she would bring against me. But something unexpected happened. Instead of yelling, she said “are you ready to get out of bed? Did you get stuck? Here, let me help you.”

The incident shouldn’t have mattered. The trauma of being swallowed into the nothingness surely wasn’t so traumatic. Getting yelled at was not unusual. People aren’t supposed to have memories that date back before age three, and I couldn’t have been three yet. I have a distinct knowledge in that memory of being in a room at the top of the stairs. The only house I lived in like that was one I lived in before three years of age. Unless my mom lied about the age at which I was potty trained.

I also remember my mom telling me about my sister crying a lot, and thinking it was so cute that I stood at the bottom of the stairs yelling “Ki!, oh Ky!” every time she started to cry. I am 16 months older than my sister, so I must have been close to that age.

I know I was being potty trained when we lived at the house on Highland. I remember it because my grandma Irene had come to visit and was leaving. We were walking her out to her car. Something caught my eye.
There was this most beautiful woman riding her bike with such grace and elegance down the street. I watched her bare feet as they somersaulted, heal over toe over heal. I was completely mesmerized. Her long brown hair was twisted into elegant braids. She passed me without even a glance. It was magic.

Of course, my adult memory recognizes that she was probably all of nine or ten, and that she was just a little girl riding her bike up and down the street on a hot summer evening. That would have put me at about 20 months!

As I was watching her ride away down the street, I was suddenly shocked back into “reality” with a swift swat on the butt, and an angry mother yelling that she had told me not to go into the street! I remember my grandmothers face. She was shocked, surely more by my mothers violence than by my act, but I saw it as concurrence at that time. I was sent into the house, crying.

My step dad met me in the kitchen. “Why are you crying?” he asked. I tried to tell him about the beautiful woman on the bike, failing miserably to be understood. “Are you saying you have to go ‘try’?” Try was the word for having a bm in the potty chair. The next thing I knew, that was where I was, in the bathroom, on the potty chair, step dad saying “Try, Cheri, Try!”

So according to these memories, I had to have been living on Highland just before I turned two. I remember that before we moved, my aunt Mila was visiting, trying to shame me into not wetting the bed. My sister was already successfully potty trained then. So that memory had to be closer to four.

I know we moved out of that house when I was four. That was when my great-grandpa Al sold my mom and step dad a house for a more than reasonable price.

I don’t know why any of that is important. Why would my mind hold onto such memories? The one thing they all have in common was the intense fear I felt for my mother. I think that is sad. I wish I didn’t have to be afraid of my mother. I wish that I had a mother that I could love and confide in. Someone who would tell me I’m loved and valued. No matter what, no matter. I can’t make this feeling disappear. A large part of me really doesn’t want to. How can I miss so much a thing I’ve never had?

Fallen Vessel

Fallen Vessel

We are not human beings experiencing a spiritual existence. We are spiritual beings experiencing a human existence. I read this somewhere and BOOM! I knew this was my motto. It so completely describes how I feel about this life. That is why I choose not to deny ego, that is why I choose to continue to have the experience. The fact that I can see this so clearly today is very encouraging. There will be more ups and downs for a while, I know. But there is hope.

I am ready to begin my new life. I did something strange and signed up on match.com. I have really gotten a lot of winks and responses on my profile so far. These are keeping so busy right now that I really haven’t had much of a chance to look for what I actually want in a partner. But I do have a pretty good idea. And it looks like there might be some guys out there who are as out there as I am.

So I’m adding a picture today. This one is a pastel drawing of a vase. In an art class the students were supposed to sketch designs that they wanted to sculpt into native Idaho clay. I have this drawing, but I was unable to translate it into clay. I am going to take a pottery class this summer with my work friend. It will be fun. 5 eight hour days in a row, shaping and molding hunks of mud into works of art. I can hardly wait.

Anyway, this vase is a representation of the soul of a woman. The base of the vessel is the beautiful natural wonderful person all of us start out as. The black is the messages we receive over our lifetimes that blacken and threaten to engulf us. It's never too late to realize what is happening and to change our minds about ourselves. We can reclaim our precious flower.