strangers...

living apart from my husband is weird. it's been *counts on fingers* five and a half months that we've been apart. we did see each other over christmas. but that was in itself a whole different kind of weird. i mean. i went to visit my husband. my husband. you don't visit your husband. unless of course he's in jail and it's one of them awkward conjugal visits in a sleazy trailer.

which, judging by our last conversation, isn't the case. he's still working. and he's not stamping out license plates in the local jail house. though i reckon if he was he'd be so dapper and cute in his jumpsuit and i bet they have tea breaks and everything.

that odd scenario aside...

we're married. been married for nearly three years. but we're kinda just seeing each other now. i mean. we talk everyday if we can. for about half an hour. only half an hour. but he's so busy. and our conversations all are about how work was. and our routines are so basic and well, boring. plus when we talk. when we talk. it's his afternoon and my morning. so i haven't even started the day. i don't have any interesting anecdotes at seven in the morning. all i can talk about is how i slept at a weird angle because at some point during the night my fuzzy bedmate has migrated into the center of the bed causing me to move around him and get a crick in my neck.

and all he has to tell me is about meetings. so many meetings. he's a manager. i presume that's what managers do. they meet. with people. and talk. about stuff? *head tilt*

during the weekends i try to get out and see people. as does he.

so right now. in this instant. we're like strangers. two people. with a little in common (wedding rings and a looming anniversary). we both live our separate lives. i even catch myself sometimes. thinking... "oh, well when he comes to visit i'll show him this place and we can go eat here..." but i have to stop. and remember. there is no visiting. we're not dating. i don't really live here. this is just a stopping point. this is a five month layover on my journey back to the uk. i have a life. it's been put on hold. the pause button firmly pressed down. except. that it hasn't paused. we've both been going about our daily business.

have we grown apart? does absence make the heart grow fonder?

i ask. because of a recent conversation. (i apologize now hun for putting this out here)... but he said he didn't sleep well... had a lot on his mind you know. busy at work. lots to do. and maybe he's a little nervous about me returning.

...

nervous?

i don't understand. and i want to understand. maybe it's misplaced or misdiagnosed anxiousness about my return? maybe he's excited but it's a nervous excited? is it because we've been living apart for five months? so now it's like we have to start all over again?

hi. i'm natalie. i think you're cute. wanna get married?

and of course. being a girl. and i just found out that being an aquarius makes me more likely to be very emotional. who woulda thunk? i'm freaking out.

clearly i'm going back to the uk. i don't think it's anything so strange that i wouldn't go home. i'm pretty sure if something really odd happened he'd have told me don't come back... or at the very least we need to talk. but that hasn't happened. and i hate that the insecurity and doubts from someone else is now flooding into my body. that the crazy suggestion from someone who doesn't even know the whole story is coloring my view. two months ago i would never have even given the idea a second thought. in fact, two months ago i was very upset that anyone had given the idea a thought (never mind the fact they actually voiced it to me). *fist shake*

but here i am.

my leg is in constant nervous motion. i've pilfered my roommates cigarettes more than once today. and the bottles of rum on top of the fridge are looking mighty tempting.

is it just this weird limbo we're in? is it delayed irritation for the months of my unemployment? is it the weight that i'm trying to shift. is it the weird last two weeks of my four week holiday that we spent together? is it work? is it absence? is it me?

you do want me to come home right? don't you?

because i do. so desperately.

i'm empty. i'm halved. i'm nearly translucent.

i don't want to be a stranger.

i miss being yours.

more ups and downs

frustrated. tired. lonely. and aching.

i try to be optimistic. i strive to keep a positive outlook. but i can't begin to hope or expect. the moment i do it all goes downhill.

i play out dialogue in my head. i pretend everything is working out to plan.

but it doesn't. the words i want to hear are unsaid. the gestures i long to see and feel are memories fading.

but the tears and the ache are real.

painfully real.

i fight an internal battle every moment of every day. i fight against my nature to run. i fight my heart and it's desire to freeze. i defy my head calling it quits. i ignore the voice in my mind which says i should give up. i fight the urge to fight.

it's been over a month. this internal war. waging in my tired body.

only a month.

and i want to wait.

but i'm so tired.

i see the white flag in the corner.

i don't even have the strength to lift it.

the hour long visits. early morning emails. a visit here and there. the constantly empty house no longer a home.

i'm dying. slowly suffocating under the weight of my emotions. under the heft of my hope.

but i can't make the decision. and i despair at the thought of it being made for me.

i no longer have the ability to look forward. towards a future which once seemed so clear.

i'm despondent.

i can't hope for anyone to love this strange creature which i've become.

small. withered. empty. and hollow.

i want to give in.

i may as well give up.

you win.

crafty maccrafterson

teehee...

one of my homemade cards...









get it? it's a belated birthday card.

oh. i slay me.

last meal

so i'm planning the last meal i'll make for my husband (and my neighbor).

starter: roasted chicken breast with black pudding, broad beans, and a buerre blanc. [edited twice since original posting]

main: pan seared lemon sole served with with sauteed potatoes, green beans, and a caper butter sauce.

dessert: chocolate mousse with raspberries and oat-y biscuits. [edited since original posting]

i kinda feel like the chocolate mousse needs something to make it sound more snazzy... maybe fresh berries...

meh.

OMG to the hundreth power...

it's been approved.

i'll have it in my hot little hands with the next few days.

i'm going home!

mmmore buns

buns of the cinnamon persuasion.

mmm.

my lovely hubby got me a subscription to bon appetite. american.

so lovely.

they had a recipe for cinnamon rolls. since my recipe for them is still in my dad's garage with all my other cooking school stuff i thought this would be the perfect opportunity to bake the lovely delights for my hunny. since usually we only ever have was when we'd go to the mall in cambridge. i don't think he'd ever had a cinnamon roll before.

so i've made a crapload to take to work to teach some more brits about the orgasmic baked goodie that is cinnamon rolls.

beautiful little buns.

...doused in a pound of cream cheese frosting.

holiday party what?

drunk what?

i'm so grounded after this.

bleh

still sick. no voice.

meh.

springing

springing forward. a spring to my step. spring clean.

singing in my room. the curtains open. light and lightness enter.

i'm happy again.

it takes so little.

pancakes and a mimosa at breakfast.

the warm kiss of sunshine.

the gentle tickle of a breeze.

a belatedly opened cd. full of memories and smiles.

all of which come tumbling out of the speakers. and mix with my happiness.

a sort of melancholy happiness.

not sad. no regrets.

fond memories. fond songs.

combined with the weather.

i feel a hundred years younger and lighter.

i could levitate home.

pure ecstasy

last night English pleased me like no other man on this earth could. i mean. spine warming bliss. from my head to my toes. he had me screaming in delight within minutes of hitting the bed.

this man is a marvel.

i didn't know it could be so good.

i've never. ever. endured such mind numbing pleasure. ever.

every woman should be so lucky.

i can't wait until he comes home tonight. i hope it's as good if not better tonight.

...

i mean it was only 50 quid, but sweet jeebus is an electric blanket a fantastic investment!

breathe...

take a deep breath.

inhale.

exhale.

tomorrow is just a day.

don't read into it.

don't lump all your hope onto it.

don't expect.

just breathe.

meh

sometimes at work... i feel like this.

only with less cool furniture.

vino veritas...

in wine there is truth...

in alcohol there is a relaxation of inhibition...

in the sweet tropical fruit. words of wisdom come tumbling off the tongue. to spill the golden nectar upon the pinkness of flesh. the fuzzy peach flesh of youth. the tender skin of naivete. to trickle sumptuously among the round firm globe of ripe fruit.

the dance of fire lit tropics. the grainy sweetness of sand. the rich tang of the salt and musk. sweat and sea air.

an underlying heady scent of overripe fruit. of overheavy women. of the crush of culture and change.

excitement and despair. mix and mingle. a bittersweet happiness melds with an overzealous reality.

and all that is left. is the golden current in an empty glass.

the last legs running slowly.

until all is tasted.

all is taken in.

another year bites the dust...

and another one's gone, another year bites the dust...

today i'm 27. wow.

i don't even know what to say right now. maybe it's the old age. maybe it's the fact that i just woke up. but i'm definitely at a loss for words.

i will say this though. English got me the best birthday gift evar.

two cuddly little rats.

they are super cute.

that's all.

you can all shudder at the fact that i have adorable rodents with lovely long wormy tails.

hehehe.

this life of mine

watching from the sidelines. just off the pitch. avoiding the sweaty men who jostle for possession of a silly ball. laughing as the manager goes ballistic over small mistakes. i keep my eyes on the goal keeper. my husband.

it still boggles my mind to say it. husband. i catch myself starting to say boyfriend or fiance. i have to correct myself. i worry that people will think i am crazy or unfaithful because i can't manage to say husband. but it's just so new. my lips and tongue have to be trained around the word. i practice it at home. form the word. feel the word.

it is strange to hear the word escape my lips. i dropped off a doctors registration form. i almost broke out laughing when i handed the papers over and said... these are for my husband. i waited. irrationally. for the nurse to say congratulations. as if the world could see my affliction. as if it was written on my forehead. in big red letters. recently married.

but no. they simply said to call in a week.

so this is my life. watching him play football on sundays and mondays. though now the sunday season is over. mondays are the day for me to be a cheering supportive wife. standing outside the pitch. looking lovely and happy. avoiding sweaty men.

and their balls.

time...

more time. give it time.

but time stands still for those who wait.

we wait in a space void of time.

no ticking. no tocking.

no telling the days from hours from seconds from lifetimes lost.

time is pain. time is patient. time mends. time heals. time destroys. time renders things apart. time gives minds space to forget. time is all i have.

this time. next time. no time.

every time.

i hear a train. and i gasp. in seconds it has lifted my tender hope and scurried down south with it. give it time. the train will return. and my hope will lift again. bruised and quiet. to wait.

to leave more time.

i listen as a car pulls in to the drive. my heart leaps. perhaps this time. but no.

give it time.

a door slams in the hall. my eyes flutter open from slumber. my arms ache. my body sighs. in response to phantom caresses. and the time it takes for long legs to carry from one end of the hall to another. my mind wakes. and i am alone.

maybe next time.

so i wait.

grrr...

ever feel like you're being jerked around? like you're doing pirouettes but you're not head spotting well enough? as if twirling in your executive mock leather chair until the ergonomic butt pad slips out from beneath your ass?

yea.

my temp agency is giving me that feeling.

"we'll call you with the information for the interview..." no call. i call them. no interview. uh... thanks for calling me back with that information.

"we'll email you the details for the interview and how to get there..." uh huh... riiight.

i'm worried they have my wrong email. or they just aren't as good as they used to be back in 2004.

sigh.

edit: why on earth if all my new resumes have my new email address would you use the one from two thousand and fucking four? for fucks sake.

git them doggies movin'

rawhide!

it should come as no surprise. given the amount of change that my life has taken in recent months... moving from new england to old england... getting married... just a few little changes here and there. so it really shouldn't surprise anyone that change is the only constant in our lives.

we're moving.

again.

not that this effects anyone really. given all my friends are still stateside. all my family is in california. so really. i suppose this only effects us. our little family unit.

we're moving to a little town called warwick. though pronounced war-ick. i got lost in this town. but i found my way back. i saw the sights. it took less than an hour to get lost, find my way, and see everything.

i think i'm going to love my new town.

booked

one set of tickets.

one more to go.

squeee!

revisiting...

as we're on the subject of revisiting the past...

i'm back at the beginning. back where i was. retracing footsteps. following my own shadow. chasing my fading laughter among the golden leaves of fall... i'm back in cambridge.

much like the season. my visit is fleeting. a week of traipsing through old haunts. of retasting the crisp air. of tenderly retouching the rough tree trunks and bricks of new england.

i meandered along old walks. i smiled at the familiarity of my last fall and this current fall. 3 years gone. and the sky is the same shade of steel grey. the trees are still stark black against the firey red leaves.

i fell in love with this place six years ago.

revisiting has reminded me why.

i miss it.

i miss home.

detours

one day. technically speaking it's two. but for my heart it's only one.

i have to pack. i know. i haven't even started. i have to ship some stuff home. thanks to everyone who gave me reading material. but man are books ever heavy.

and in order to avoid volcanoes and ash. my flight leaves on time from boston. but lands not in chilly reykjavik . but in less chilly glasgow. which is the right continent. but uhm... 6 hours away from my actual destination. and there is no free transfer. which. sucks. balls.

sigh.

trains or another flight is the only option. poo. poo i say.

one day.

and lots of luggage.

wait what?

so emailing to the moo in regard to the ole "long time no see" and how to rectify such things. teehee... rectify is a funny word.

this sentence made me giggle in which we were discussing which state would be better to visit. ohio. or minnesota... "i think minnesota would be tooooons more fun."

...

now... is it just me or does that sound like an oxymoron. or like some sort of creepy i've-been-brainwashed speak?

i don't want to sound state-ist... state-cist... stateophobic? but really? what do they have there?

so of course. being the uber researcher that i am. i googled minnesota. one, to find out where it is. and two to find out where it is. i mean... to find out what fabutastic stuff there is to do there.

the first thing that the official site says besides the great outdoors is the mall of america. the effing mall of effing america. lets not talk about any places of great historic value or of natural beauty... instead lets sell our big ass nod to consumerism. wow.

but this... this seems to sum it up best. i mean... pickle dog dreams?! what?! what?!! i think this may explain why moo is such a fantastic weirdo.

oh and there also seems to be an inordinate amount of snow/winter activites. hello minnesota. there are like three other seasons to be had. sheesh.

and now i sit back and wait for the peeptastic rants to come flowing in from the tumbledryer.

the hell?

so another joy with staying with the socal rents is that they are crazy. gramma is a bit of a hoarder (hence the museum-like state of this place). the stepdad is well... lets just say socially challenged. which is either just his years spent as a freelance photographer in rural africa and asia or it's because of his terrible b.o.

my mom has her own bit of crazy. again. this i think is due to childbirth. i should do a study on it. maybe the rational part of the brain migrates during pregnancy and is detached along with the placenta. *shrug*

just now. i mean... really truly about two seconds ago. stepdad tore out his address from a piece of junkmail... and ate it.

...

really?

i mean.

really?!

email conversations with my male clone...

me: my cat is fat.

the brother: You should make her swim. Get fit.

me: yea... she would be most displeased and then she'd pee on my bed and scratch my eyes out. or she'd just look really pitiful and sink to the bottom.

the brother: Are you sure it's a cat and not a pet rock? The feathers and parts of small fowl lead me to believe I adopted a chainsaw.


(*editors note: the email chain's subject line changed from "AAAGH!" to "Bullshit" at which point i had to request it not be a word that could get me fired from my job [which if you think about it is funny since i'm quitting]. then my dearest brother changed it to "Bull-shido (formerly RE: AAAGH!) nagasaki enoki sato hiawatha!")

(**editors note: let it also be noted that my brother held off naming his kitten until it had made its first kill, and thus began the fearful reign of tiberius ceasar the first, tormentor of souls, ravager of small woodland creatures. i made that tormentor of souls, ravager of small woodland creatures part up, but you have to admit, it has a nice ring to it.)

jet setter...

not really. but goodness me has it been a long day. it seems like this morning was yesterday. technically due to time zones it was. is. whatever.

i'm now back in my old room at my old housemates apartment. weird.

i was wandering around and i kept finding things from three years ago. still in the same spot i left it. still with the same contents securely kept inside.

beyond weird.

i'll keep you posted on the random exploits. though they won't be juicy. unless you think the image of me cleaning a grubby bathroom is juicy.

and if you do. i don't want to know you anymore.