Recap

Hurrah, it’s finally raining! Which means, of course, that the mild sinus headache I’ve had all day has blossomed into what threatens to become a migraine.

So, the quick entry: Had a terrific evening of cider and relaxation with girlfriends at the local pub on Friday night; I ended up going home early because of a headache brought on by who knows what. Saturday I led an experimental meditation workshop on the weekend which by all acounts was a success. So successful, in fact, that instead of lunching together afterwards we all went our separate ways, drowsy and warm fuzzy-like. Sunday was wine and cheese with friends, and the joys of using the remote for my camera for the first time in four years (I kid you not).

I have an important idea brewing in my head concerning my future. It’s not quite fully formed yet; still vague. It seems important, though. I’ll let it incubate for a while longer.

Once Upon A Time

If you ask me what the most frustrating misunderstanding has been in my life, I’d have to say it’s connected to my first engagement and the dissolution of the relationship.

Once upon a time I was engaged to a warm, funny, creative man, who was a big kid at heart. Everything seemed perfect; I’d known him since we were children, we’d lost touch, we met one another again, and things just happened. It was like a storybook.

Well, you know what happens in storybooks. There has to be conflict.

In our case, it came about gradually. In every relationship there has to be a realist, and in this one, I (alas) had to take the role. We had a few talks about the discomfort I was feeling about being the one in charge all the time, and they always ended with a mutual promise to try to do better.

There were two friends I talked to about the increasingly bad feelings I was getting about the whole thing, one a man, one a woman. The woman ended up being so catty about it that I stopped hanging out with her. The man, on the other hand, was an excellent sounding board, who listened without making the “this is what you should do” mistake. He was a member of the wedding party, so as he heard my worries he’d check in with my fiance to get his side of things. My fiance assured him that everything was dreamy and perfect, and our mutual friend had to walk a fine line between supporting me and delicately encouraging my fiance to examine the relationship.

Eventually I realised that the imbalance couldn’t continue, and we had a final talk where I revealed that I couldn’t do it, and he (to my utter, utter surprise) agreed, having finally understood that we were missing a certain je ne sais quoi that he’d seen in another couple whose wedding he’d only recently attended.

If life were truly a storybook, this is were the end would be, and we all would have lived happily ever after.

However, being human, suspicion and petty jealousies began to develop. I hang out with guys; I always have. My best friends have always been male. Well, as soon as the decision to cancel the wedding had been made public, people started to talk. No one could possibly leave such a terrific man, such a perfect relationship; I must have been lured away. And of course, it must have been that guy I was spending time with – our mutual friend.

I was furious. It’s a terrific way to be absolved of any blame – don’t squash the rumours that your girl was stolen by a good friend. The horrible thing is that the more people would sympathise with him about it, the more I think my ex-fiance started to really believe it. Things went downhill from there.

It didn’t help the rumours that a year later, our mutual friend proposed to me, and we’ve now been happily married for four years. My ex is about to be united in blissful matrimony himself, to a girl who everyone says is an excellent match, and I’m thrilled for them both. She’s getting a fantastic guy, and she’d darned well better treat him right.

Our circles started to grow apart, and I don’t see him often now; mostly at parties once or twice a year. When we meet, we’re affectionate, and I’m always interested to hear from others how he’s doing. I regret the pain we both went through, pain which would have been a lot easier to bear and of a shorter duration if people hadn’t been just plain nasty and created those rumours. I don’t think either of us would alter the choices we made, though. I married the right guy. To my utter disgust, however, the girl-stealing story is still believed by people we meet who know my ex-fiance. We rise above it, though. We know the truth.

And the truth, quite simply, is that my husband is the most honourable man I’ve ever met, as well as being my best friend.

Shaking It Up

After only an hour of sleep last night, I’ve been a bit stunned all day – just not quite with it.

So I did what I used to do when I needed a boost: I moved furniture around.

No, not everything; just my desk. I turned it 90 degrees (that’s a square for those with new natal chart knowledge) to the wall. It doesn’t stick out into the dining room as far as I thought it would, and I’m quite pleased. Besides, with it exposed like this, I’ll be less likely to let stuff pile up on it.

Oh, that’s not the only thing I did today; I took a couple of hours and sorted through about ninety-eight pages of notes on the trad-vs-eclectic Craft book I’ve been working on. In the end, after it sorting it into about seven different files of related topics, I realised that I’m going to just sit down and start writing it one day.

Nailbiting

I talk in general terms about spirituality here for a few reasons: I want it to be as accessible to as many readers as possible, and there’s that secrecy thing that often travels with neo-Pagan worship. Now and again I’ve said that I’m currently nearing the end of my third year of clergy training, or that I’ve been working on homework, or something of the sort. But that’s about as specific as I get.

Well, that 36 page exam I mentioned that I was writing a week and a half ago? It’s no longer in my hands. A pass is 93%.

I am now officially biting my fingernails. Oh, sure; I know I did my best. There are, however, a variety of people I don’t want to disappoint, for various reasons.

It’s been a long, strange journey, as Skippy says. Every time I turn around, there’s been a new challenge. Being resourceful, we’ve found ways around (or right through!) them. Come what may, there’s every reason to be proud of my current position, whether I surpass that 93% or not.

I’m still biting my fingernails, though.

Drown, Gasp, Drown, Gasp, Plus Birthday Recap

A couple of years ago, Skippy told me to be like the cork: sure, you get drowned by breaker waves, but you can just pop right back up again.

Fine. But you know, being a bloody cork means drown, gasp, drown, gasp…

Kind of like how I defined reincarnation during a recent study session before our priesthood exam: Lather, rinse, repeat.

Birthday summary: tea in bed. Phone call from my parents. Open gifts from parents. Watch cartoons. Go window shopping – window shopping because not one of our medieval stores had anything spectacular. I did get a Japanese bamboo roll pillow, though, and I am now an official Lush fan. That was my present from my husband: carte blanche in the Lush store. Mmm. Bath bombs, bubble bars, massage bars, soap, powder, face scrubs… my bathroom now smells like Lush, which is pretty darned all right in my book. Then sushi for dinner, where the staff gave me a piece of cheesecake for dessert. Anyone who knows me knows that cheesecake isn’t my thing. They’re always so kind, though, so I looked at my husband and said, “I’m going to eat some of this.” It turned out not to be such a sacrifice: it was the lightest, non-cheesey cheesecake I’ve ever tasted, more creamy than anything else. Then we went home and had a bottle of my dad’s amazing red pinot noir.

This morning, I woke up way too early, and wrote a short story before nine AM. I know; I think I must be sick, too. (Yes, Ceri, it’s on its way…)