Living Happily Ever After

Once upon a time . . .

. . . some chick in Fargo sat down and started writing about her life post-divorce on the internet. Not knowing where it would go. Just knowing there were a few things she wanted to say.

And yes.

That was me.

Over the next three years my readers wrote to me to say they found my stories inspiring and hysterical, that I simultaneously lifted them up while making them laugh. The truth is my words lifted me up while teaching me how to find the humor, truth, and always present life lesson in just about everything.

Blogging became both an anchor and north star for me. And such an incredible gift to myself. But I think that is the consequence of pursuing one's passions. If you do what your soul nudges, an authentic life results. And living authentically just feels so darn good.

I hope all of you listen to that little voice that beckons you to live your dreams as well. For it is the most amazing feeling when you do.

Thank you for walking this journey with me over the past several years. I adore you all. And feel so incredibly blessed by your cheerleading and support. The truth is that blogging, however wonderful it has been, is feeling more like a chapter in my life I am ready to conclude.

Here's to taking chances and belieiving in fairy tales.

And the journey through the kind of life that ends with the words. . .

Happily.

Ever.

After.

Love,Audra

These Small Hours

Yesterday evening I accompanied my youngest daughter to her Faith Formation class. At the start the priest approached the pulpit and solemnly announced, “Our meditation this evening is on relationships. Good relationships take years to build. And one minute to destroy.”

Ain’t that the truth?

Relationships are not like savings accounts. You can’t make a lot of great deposits and then one day stop investing. Everything you’ve put into it will not remain pristine if you let it stagnate. If you stop giving to a relationship it will deteriorate.

Think of it this way: I’ve put a lot of effort into raising my children. I have rocked them as infants and played with them as toddlers. I’ve planned elaborate birthdays, hosted play dates, doled out loving discipline and made sure they ate their carrots.

But what if one day I woke up and just said, “Yeah, I’ve been mother of the year all of my adult life. I’ve done a great job. They’re good. I’m just going to go over here now.” I don’t think so. That’s actually called abandonment and it’s not even legal if the children are under 18. Or what if I stayed but just stopped being nice to them? That’s not legal either and it’s actually called abuse.

Relationships require you put forth a regular honest effort. If you take them for granted they will tiptoe away in the night and you’ll be left wondering how that great thing you once had turned to loud silence and dusty fragments.

Think about the relationships in your life that aren’t where you want them to be. Do you want a better relationship with your parents? Call them more often. Is your teenager becoming distant? Go for a Dairy Queen run and catch up on life over an Oreo blizzard. Have you been short and demanding of the people in your life who mean the most to you? Try bigger helpings of humility and eliminate criticism.

One of my favorite songs is "Little Wonders" by Rob Thomas, it encapsulates the concept of life's beauty residing in the little things:

Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders,
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away,
But these small hours,
These small hours still remain


Relationships not only take years to build but years to maintain. If the relationships in your life aren’t where you want them to be, the good news is you’re the one who can save them.

One small hour and one small minute.

At a time.
******************************

P.S. Sooooo sorry, dear readers, for the giant hiatus from the blog! I have no excuse. Well, I do have an excuse and it's called "wonderful guy descended into my life." Yes. It's true. Audra got a boyfriend and went, "Blog?!?!? What blog?!?" I think I'm coming out of the lovesick haze now so I pinky swear I'll be blogging more regularly again. See you Monday!

Perfectly Perfect.

I am at the age where I think I definitely know who I am. At least I hope so.

I’ve lived long enough to have a pretty good handle on my strengths, weaknesses, gifts, and flaws. And trust me, the flaws list is long! But over the years I truly think I’ve been able to transform one of those negatives into a positive. And that is this: my anal retentive inability to accept anything less than perfection.

This honestly isn’t the worst quality in the world . Asking nothing less than your best of yourself is a great thing. But when you begin to apply it to others? Yeah. Uber bee-otch. All the way. Case in point, back in my 20’s I think I truly made several people’s lives miserable, probably my family’s most of all. I am a neat freak and nazi when it comes to how I think things should be done. The bed is made this way, the towels are folded this way, and if you put that non-dishwasher safe Pampered Chef ice cream scoop in the dishwasher one more time I am going to smack you with it.

Thankfully, the good Lord allowed me to live long enough to do something quite necessary with that attitude:

Grow up and get over it.

Eventually I learned to pick my battles and stop flipping out over an ice cream scoop. Or maybe just to stop buying things that aren’t dishwasher safe and the complications that those decision introduce into my domestic harmony.

Don’t get me wrong. I did not give up my perfectionist ways. I just tried to direct them somewhere healthier: at myself.

For example, I try to soak up human wisdom as often as I can by reading books that nurture my heart and soul. One of my favorites is Dale Carnegie’s classic self help book, “How to Stop Worrying and Start Living,” which I read at least once year. I’d never really been an anxious person but I just loved “How to Win Friends and Influence People” so much I instantly made it my life’s goal to read everything Dale Carnegie ever wrote. (In fact, the man is so inspiring that if a copy of a grocery list he once jotted down showed up on an episode of Pawn Stars I just may need to make a pilgrimage to Las Vegas to buy that sucker!)

They are classic books published almost a century ago, but the attitudes Carnegie touts are as vital to emotional human growth today as ever.

My teenage daughter is dealing with some of the expected anxiety of adolescence and I suggested the other day that she delve into the book. I read the first chapter aloud to her and we laughed and nodded together as we related to Carnegie’s plethora of analogies and anecdotes. From Jesus telling us to concentrate only on our daily bread (not yesterday’s stale bread, and not where on earth we’ll find bread two weeks from now in case we lose our jobs or a natural disaster occurs) to stories of people of mundane intellect who accomplished amazing things simply by doing the best they could one day at a time.

Give us this day our daily bread.

Exploring these mindsets and concepts over the years has solidified my perfectionist approach to life. I do my best every day. And I do not worry about tomorrow. And I don’t lose any sleep. I don’t wonder what’s going to happen. I just know whatever happens will be fine and I couldn’t have changed it.

Because I just did the very best I could with what I had.

That day.

Perfectionism can be a strength if used correctly. As long as our measurements are only made against ourselves and it is applied realistically it can bring great peace. And even joy.

I have several life accomplishments of which I am quite proud of as a result: my daughters, my career, my friendships, and even this blog. And they all exist because I gave thanks for the gifts I had that day, did the best I could with them, and enjoyed my daily bread with no thought toward the yesterdays I’d left behind or the tomorrows I cannot control.

As a result no one has been yelled at for dishwasher infractions in my house for well over a decade. And some days the beds just aren’t made right but everyone still sleeps comfortably.

Life is great but it is not because I’m perfect (hardly!) It’s because I always give nothing less than my best.

And the life that results is perfect.

For me.
*****************************
Thanks for a great weekend, Mr. H. I think the dollar mocha, comfy seats, and inspiring message was one of my favorite parts...next to you. Muah!

Still alive!

I know, I've fallen off the bloggin' wagon this week! Thank you for all the kind inquiries about where I've been. I went to the farm and helped my mom for a week recover from surgery (nothing life threatening) and then I've just been engulfed with my children, my job, and other wondeful things in my life. I am so blessed . . . and I hope you are as well.

I'm making great progress with my novel and am trying to discern if I should just start blogging once a week . . . I may. Sorry! You are all so wonderful and supportive of my writing, it would be hard to cut back but if I am ever to realize my writing goals I am going to have to divide my time accordingly in order to accomplish them.

Have a blessed weekend!

~Audra

P.S. Congratulations to my dear childhood friend who gave birth to her fifth girl this week! It seems like just yesterday we were the little girls. Now when get together . . . there are seven girls between us. Sugar and spice and everything nice, my friend. Muah!

Traveling in Packs with Pacts

They fill the tables next to me at restaurants. And travel in packs.

“Look,” my friend Casey motions to me. We are seated outdoors on a restaurant patio for a friend’s birthday party. She nudges my attention toward the group of women seated next to us. Although they are carting packages and presents their mood is solemn. “You see that?” she whispers and then quietly announces,

“Look at their faces.”

I glance over my shoulder to see six women just a few feet from me. They may as well be at a funeral. None of them look happy.

“They’re married,” she diagnoses.

And I laugh. Not at them. But at something else. At a past that used to be mine in another life. And Casey’s too.

That used to be us.

“And look,” she continues her assessment like a sociologist studying another culture, “they all own one piece of jewelry. And no one is wearing a vibrant color.”

It’s all true. What she says. The homogeny continues beyond that. They all have short hair and many are a bit overweight. I imagine they all live in brand new split levels and drive their children to school each day in their shiny Yukons and Expeditions.

Never smiling.

Casey squeezes my hand and smiles, “That’s not us anymore.”

I smile back.

On another day at another restaurant I am seated next to another group of women. But this group laughs and jokes and shrieks. They talk about the Twilight series as if it is classic literature and make plans to attend a Lady Ga Ga concert. They are all in great shape and their hair, if not long, is trendy and youthful, their jewelry fun and varied. Their laughter wafts through the restaurant but it intoxicates not irritates.

You think I’m going to say they’re all single, don’t you?

Guess again. This is not the juxtaposition you are expecting, dear reader.

They’re all married too.

But it’s a different kind of married.

The kind where you don’t lose yourself or give up. Instead, the mystical kind where you find yourself and (gasp!) could it be?

Love your husband.

It is possible.

I saw it in the restaurant next to me just last week.

If I’ve learned anything these past few years it is this: life is divided into two camps, the happy and the sad, and they gravitate toward another like magnets. Happy attracts happy. Sad attracts sad.

Ever heard misery loves company? It does. But happy loves company too. Like attracts like.

I have since analyzed the gabillion reasons I stayed so unhappily married for so unhappily long. There are several but one contributing factor that it took me a while to realize is that in that life my friends were just as miserably married as I, if not more so! Several of the married couples I knew were just shuffling through the motions. I just thought that’s the way it was.

Interestingly? My unhappily married friends did not stay friends with me after my divorce. But my happily married ones did.

Isn’t that interesting? Yes. Mull that. It’s deep. It seems I abandoned an unwritten pact to stay eternally in despair with them. It has been a life lesson that has imparted deep wisdom of which I am so grateful to have, even if attaining it was through something so incredibly difficult.

Never again will I surround myself with friends who pity themselves, who settle for less, and who don’t believe that the power to find happiness resides within. Never again will I waste my time with people who portray themselves as victims.

Life is meant to be toasted to, embraced hard, and lived beautifully. And to do anything else? Is wasteful.

And sad.

Recently a new guy in my life asked me, “Why does it seem like when women get married they get fat and cut all their hair off?” I just laughed knowingly and said I wasn’t sure. But that the good news was I’d already lived that life.

For even if I ever do say I do again, my femininity and size four jeans are here to stay. Along with something even more beautiful and unwavering.

My belief that life is what I make it.

And I’m making mine?

Happy.

******************************
P.S. Just for the record? I do think I would have to draw the line at discussing the Twilight series as if it were classic literature. I'm just sayin' . . . :-)

R.I.P. Laptop!

My laptop crashed this week and my desktop wasn't looking too good either . . . who are these people who just sit in dark rooms and write viruses? Good grief!

I'll be back online Monday. I've had a fabulous week and life is grand. Hope the same for you, marvelous readers!

Love and blessings,
Audra

Sorry!

Going to blog tonight...pinky swear. :-)

~Audra

On vacation!

On vacation this week, readers, experiencing wonderful adventures with old friends and my littlest girl. I am blessed and I hope (know!) you are as well.

Be back next week!
~Audra

Cheating Jerk Follow Up . . .

I’ve been avoiding the topic of the big cheating jerk I dated from April to July (Refer to my “Dear Daphne” blog post if I lost you.) But I figured I’d revisit the topic at least one more time. You see, I just finished the book Resilience by Elizabeth Edwards. That woman is the epitome of grace. She endured much in this life: the tragic death of her teenage son, breast cancer, and the humiliating public betrayal of her husband of thirty years, Senator John Edwards.

For anyone facing any kind of adversity, I highly recommend you run, not walk, to Barnes and Noble and buy Elizabeth's words.

Therefore, in the style of this classy lady, I didn't want to give the cheater in my life too much attention on my blog. Mainly because I believe in positive energy. And this guy is so screwed up and so dysfunctional that there’s nothing positive about him. But the truth is there’s been a positive twist to the story.

And that twist is Daphne.

For once she and I were done discovering all the disgusting details, “He called you Blondie, too?!?!” we discovered something better.

A friendship.

In between moments of revelation, “What? He had pictures of the two of you on Facebook? I could only see two pictures on his page. He told me he didn't know how to really use Facebook! Good gawd, that man had his privacy settings Mac Daddy'd out!!" and epiphany realizations that we were intimate with him simultaneously (which, by the way, is the universal human definition of a dog) we eventually dug out of those discussions and found our way to more mundane commonalities.

Like similar careers, taste in clothes, and a love for wine and food.

We were soon giggling like school girls over lunch and checking in often via text and phone. I’ve even introduced Daphne to a couple guys with whom I think there may be some intriguing potential. (Just call me cupid!)

It’s nice to see her smiling.

I have a feeling Daphne will be a permanent fixture in my life and I feel so incredibly blessed.

Discovering I was being betrayed and used was not fun but the outcome is something I never would have expected. I found a kindred spirit and wonderful friend in the process. On top of that, this shared experience had helped both of us to discern that the shortcomings of others is not something we ever have been or will be able to control and is no way a reflection of our failings.

We are trusting and loving women and those are qualities we are both holding on to. This man was out for power and that was it. But he didn't get it and he didn't win. Because we will not allow him to steal our trust in others.

Elizabeth Edwards offers an acute assessment of situations like this in her book. Sometimes things happen to you that are tragic. Tragedy is sometimes unavoidable.

But it is an honorable place.

As the alternative is to be on the side that she puts her husband's mistress. And where Daphne and I put this man and his misguided motivations.

Pathetic.

Hidden Treasure

In December 1993 I was a senior in college. My application to law school sat on the kitchen counter and I was preparing for the LSAT. I was going to put my outspoken personality to use and become an attorney.

All those dreams vanished in an instant when I went in the bathroom and watched a pink plus sign appear on a little plastic stick.

I was pregnant.

And just like that.

My life changed forever.

I married a stranger and my life became a surreal dream. Or more like a nightmare. I woke up every morning wishing none of this was so. But soon I didn’t even have time to wish for anything more than one day to go by when I was not throwing up.

But I didn’t quit getting sick. Instead I vomited every day for the next eight months. I couldn’t win the lottery but I was one of the “lucky” 2% of pregnant women whose body treats the baby like an unwelcome parasite. I think my cells had a meeting and decided if they just made me barf constantly I could expel the baby that way.

It didn’t work.

So while my friends went on with college, parties and part time jobs I stayed home with my new husband in our meager apartment and stumbled through married life while trying to finish college and wondering if I was really ready to be a mother.

And?

I barfed endlessly.

But on August 4, 1994, I finally stopped throwing up when a black haired blue eyed cherub arrived in my life after 24 hours of labor. My daughter was born. And again.

My life changed in one day.

But this change was different.

While my friends graduated from college, got their first jobs and bought new cars I graduated not only from school but to motherhood, nursed my first born child and bought tiny pink dresses and ribbons for this sweet little angel.

That baby became a toddler who loved Barney and then a little girl who liked to play princess and Barbies. Her waist length long hair blows in the wind and her blue eyes sparkle forever in my memories of her childhood: pushing her swing and flying kites in endless expanses of green.

And somehow? Impossibly?

She is 16 years old. She wears eyeliner (some days too much), borrows my clothes (did you take my strapless bra again?!?!) and her bedroom looks like the aftermath of a natural disaster (what smells up there?!?!).

And in two short years this closet raiding slob with too much eye make-up will be off to college. And it is just surreal.

But I’m not sad. And I have no regrets. For life is flowing the way it always does and I have no control over time and transition. I learned long ago that when the winds of life change, sometimes the only thing you have the power to adjust?

Are your sails.

I had a beautiful baby all those years ago. Who grew into a beautiful braided girl and is now blossoming into a self-assured creative woman.

Sometimes our greatest gifts are plans we never would have made ourselves but unexpected detours in the road we’d so meticulously plotted and planned. I am glad I didn’t become an attorney. It would not have been the career for me. And I am glad I spent my 20’s playing dolls with my daughter. I’ve watched countless friends wish desperately for children who never appeared.

I’m lucky.

And blessed.

By experiences in places I would never have sailed into on purpose.

For it is there that I have discovered hidden treasure.

In the uncharted waters.

Of this life.

*************************************************
Happy 16th Birthday, Booga Wooga Bear. Thank you for coming into my life. Love you to pieces baby girl!!

****

The picture is of my daughter at age four enjoying the garden of a friend...this is one of my favorite pictures of her. And even though that little girl is no longer in my life, in her place is a young woman, tall, confident and full of hope and potential. I hope I have helped her cultivate the garden of her dreams as best I could.

Law school would never have held a candle to this journey....love you always and forever.

Love,

Mom

Today's Post . . .

Will be up tomorrow! My little girl turned 16 yesterday and it's been a crazy week. I'll have a post up Friday, thanks for reading. Muah!

~Audra

Ordinary Days

My toes almost touch the branches with every swing. I stretch some more.
 

Almost there.

 

 

Two wrinkled hands push my swing and off I fly.
 

Got ‘em!
 

It’s October 1979. I’m seven years old and swinging the afternoon away on a wooden swing hanging from my grandmother’s clothesline. I'm wearing a faded orange homemade pumpkin costume that my Gram unearthed from an old box in her attic a few hours before.

“Arms up, there you are,” she’d said with satisfaction as the green felt collar hugged my neck, “I made this for your mommy when she was little.” She tugged the draw string that pulled the costume tight about my waist and instructed, “Now when you wear this, just put on a green shirt and green pants and stuff this with newspaper to make yourself fat and you’ll be the cutest pumpkin!”

That was my Gram. Always giving instructions, always telling others the way things go. She’d been a teacher for over forty years but just because her classroom was gone didn’t mean her knack for taking command of everything else around her was. The wall above her desk was a testament to that, covered with plaques and certificates: president of this, chairperson of that; she always found a way to boss people around in a way that made them grateful she had.

Hours later I was still wearing the costume as the evening light faded. Kids do that, wear costumes as regular clothing every chance they get. My mom would be here soon, plodding around the corner of Gram’s old white house, walking on the lawn that was more clover and violets than grass, telling me to hurry up and then laughing when she noticed me wearing a piece of her childhood.

My Gram wasn’t really my grandmother, she was my great grandmother. Women had babies young in my family. My own grandmother was still in her mid-forties, my mother her mid-twenties. Gram was pushing seventy, so she just played grandma to all of us.

I don’t remember why I remember that ordinary day so vividly. The costume, the swing, the violets. I just do.

 

But isn't that what life is? A string of ordinary days woven together. Sure some milestones stand out more: weddings, the birth of children and grandchildren. But the truth of our lives when all is said and done is found in the mundane ordinariness. That's where the beauty lives, the breathes we took together, the smiles we shared, the simple summer afternoons spent on a backyard swing.  

It's 1989 now in my memory.
 

I’m bounding through Gram’s cluttered porch and can see her through the dusty lace curtains, rising slowly from her recliner and exclaiming, “My girlie is here!” She’s wearing her typical polyester dress and nylons with open-toed sandals. Her red hair is freshly colored and we eat cake doughnuts in her kitchen. She asks about things like what college and I am going to and if I’m going to be a singer.

Gram always loved to hear me sing. She’d come to every concert I gave throughout high school, perch in the front row and record my performances on her prehistoric tape recorder. She’d play them back later while she sat alone in her house. Smiling to herself as she read her tattered bible or clicked her crotchet needles.

It was a nice way to grow up. Having a devoted fan like that.

 

I still have all of those cassette tapes Gram made of my singing. They stay close to me, on the top shelf of my bedroom closet, reminding me always that there once was someone on this earth who not only loved me enough to make poor quality recordings of my voice in a high school gymnasium but to play them back to herself when she needed reminding that she may be alone in the old white house but she was not alone in this life.

And now, all these years later, I wish the recordings were not of me.

But of her.

Gram died when I was 25. Her fiery spirit faded like the red in her hair. The last time I sang to her was in a church.

But she couldn’t hear me anymore.

It’s been so long since I’ve heard her voice or seen her wrinkled smile but that doesn't mean I don't visit her often. I close my eyes and fling open the porch door of the big white house and rush inside to visit  my Gram. I swing on that swing, walk in the violets and clover, and sit with her at her sunny kitchen table and eat cake doughnuts with her again.

Long after her laughter faded, her love for me did not. She walked with me through the jarring reality of my divorce in my mid-thirties, the resulting uncertainty I felt in the years following as a single mother, and she even held my hand this summer when I walked down the aisle for a second time, her crocheted handkerchief encircling the prairie flowers in my bouquet, rejoicing with me at the love I had finally found.

For she has always been and will always be my biggest fan, my unwavering support, pushing my swing higher and encouraging my toes to touch the tree tops.
 

The lesson she imprinted on my life is eternal, that love's simple power is all we need to inject extraordinary magnificence into all of our ordinary days.

*************************************

Love you, Gram. Miss you . . . always. ~Your girlie

(This post was originally published in 2010. It was updated in September 2013 to include my newest life event that Gram shared with me - my marriage to my soul mate and best friend, Matthew Mehl. I wish she could have met him in this life - but I have no doubt she will in the next. And she will love him just as much as I do.)

What WAS I thinking? Apparently nothing much.

Facebook is something the whole world is still trying to figure out. It's this mysterious snap shot of what's on someone's mind from time to time. Personally? I think I am a deep person. I read classic literature, contemplate the vastness of the universe, and work hard to instill meaningful values in my children.

Although you'd never know I had a brain at all if you based my intellectual capacity on the content of my random Facebook status updates. My rants read like the musings of a freak show with about as much depth as a mud puddle in the Sahara.

Yeah, well. It's Facebook.

It's not my personal manifesto by any stretch of the social networking imagination. What it is is a series of little moments and passing musings that I feel like throwing out into into the internet universe. I will confess, I try to share silly stuff whenever possible. I learned that from my Dad, he's always laughing. If hostile aliens took over the planet he'd be the guy cracking jokes even as Scotty beamed him up. The guy invented the silver lining philosophy, I swear.

I think that's a good way to live, personally.

So here are my top ten most recent Facebook status updates that many people have hit the "Like" on . . . as an illustration:

When the new automated garbage trucks come for pick up every week I can't help but think about those little alien guys in Toy Story every single time...."Oooohhhhh....The Cllllllaaaaaaaawwwwwwwww........"

It was so calming getting ready this morning with the electricity out, the rain falling, eating breakfast by candlelight. Told the kids we should seriously consider going Amish.

Tampons. Fiber One bars. And a toothbrush. This is my grocery list. Weird.......

Kinda wish I'd been an archeologist.

Smelly cat...smelly cat...what have they been feeding you....Smelly cat....smelly cat...it's not your fault . . .

Cancelled my Match.com account...R.I.P. online dating....I could find better quality men at a strip club.

Is it just me or did red lights used to last an eternity before texting existed? Now they seem like a freaking time warp when I want to send a text.

Great run around some lake in Eden Prairie just now. Minus the shin splints, lightening, and goose attack.

My kid is making up a song about how much she loves beef jerky. Set to Lady GaGa's Bad Romance. Gotta love road trips . . .

I sewed my daughter's pool pass onto her swimsuit . . . in the crotch. If that is proof I didn't have the best day today, I don't know what is. (Don't worry, I did take it off and attach it somewhere more Rated G. Can you imagine? "Lemme see your pool pass kiddo..." Um. Yeah....)

And...my all time favorite status update ever which I can not take credit for. It belongs to my ex-husband's aunt, she's a real nut (in a good way!). I don't want to know what on EARTH she was doing when she broke out her blackberry and decided to type this little tidbit in but it made me chuckle just the same:

HONK if you love the dump!

Now if that isn't finding the silver lining in a mundane life task....I don't know what is.

Girl Talk

As the mother of two daughters and the owner of one female feline there’s a lot of estrogen going on at my house.

Girl talk. Girl time. Everything girl rules most topics. Boys, bras, and boisterous gatherings.

Ahhhh . . . life on the pink side. ‘Tis lovely.

I have full physical custody of my daughters. This means that my life is consumed with glamorous things like laundry, vacuuming, and meal planning. I once heard that if you are lucky enough to live to be 90 and look back on your life as a pie chart, the slice during which you had children at home will be merely a sliver, hardly a full serving. Therefore I embrace every moment with my daughters. My oldest one turns sweet sixteen next week. And before I can say training bra I know my youngest will soon be chasing the skirts of womanhood as well.

And as I skillfully balance the day to day of making macaroni and cheese with making sure homework is done I also imagine their tomorrows and make sure to impress upon my daughters life lessons that will keep them resilient when I am not there.

One of which is the importance of girlfriends.

Girlfriends are the glue that holds life together when it crumples in your hands like an autumn leaf, they are the most necessary support you can cultivate, more so than Vicky’s most secretive secret. They are the hugs you need when life leaves you lonely, the laughter that fills you when you’re empty, and the soothing words when the silence is loud.

So here’s a picture of me from this weekend. My girls were with their dad so I sought out the other girls in my world who make my life sweet.

Sipping wine at a rooftop restaurant. Hugs, laughter, and words of wisdom were plenty.

Here’s to my girlfriends and all the girls of the world.

Who possess always the magical powers to turn an upside down world.

Right side up.

I Love Men

After last week I figure I should officially make that announcement should anyone assume otherwise.

Just because I choose to write mostly about my (failed) relationships that is not an automatic translation into man hating land. Yeah, many of the men who’ve crossed my romantic path haven’t panned out but that is hardly a testament to testoerone’s inferior ranking.

On the love front in particular, I have two ex-boyfriends and an ex-husband who I respect immensely and who have been there for me on more than one occasion . . . as friends. In fact, I don’t think I could have gotten through this most recent dating debacle without the affirmation of one of my ex-romantic interests.

“He’s a douche bag, Audra! This wasn’t your fault, you’re trusting and wonderful. HIS LOSS.”

(Thanks, Bobby. You always did have a way with words.)

And of course, my family is made up of many men who hold the pillars of my life story in their strong arms. My dad, the eternal jokester, who’s made me laugh all of my life and instilled a similar sense of humor within my being. My grandpa, handy man extrodinaire. The last time he was at my house he insisted on WD40ing every hinge in my house. I shall never creak or squeak again with Grandpa around. And my brother, the favorite uncle who gives endless four wheeler rides and makes up silly jokes with his two nieces. My daughter’s lives are full of adventurous jump ditching and endless laughter thanks to him.

How could I hate men with these great guys all around me?

And of course, the boyfriends and husbands of all of my friends provide a steady presence when I need to borrow them. Anna’s husband took me to the vet to put a pet down on a difficult summer’s day. His quiet compassion enveloped me as he handed me tissue after tissue and consistently assured me I’d done the loving thing on the long drive home.

In other damsel in distress moments, Carmen’s cop boyfriend will rush over immediately if I am ever scared (what was that noise? Do I have an intruder?).

“I’ll be right over, Audra. With the gun.”

And of course, age old friendships I’ve cultivated with boys who have become men sustain me year after year. One monitors my moods via my Facebook status. The moment I post anything cryptic, he’s right there.

“Hey, saw your post. You okay? Need a drink? Or ten?”

Men, at least the ones in my life, are wonderful.

Every single one.

Eventually I’ll find one to play a romantic role, I’m sure.

But in the meantime?

I’ve got plenty of help in life at times that require someone be branded a “douche,” WD40 be administered, alcohol be consumed , or a gun be displayed.

Thanks, guys.

You’re the best!

Happy Monday!

Just a quick note wishing you all a joyful week!

I'll post a "story" by tomorrow . . . but I wanted to pop in quickly and let you know I'm hardly on the floor after last week's unexpected twist in the road. I had a wonderful weekend with my children and went for two long glorious runs along the river.

Speaking of roads . . . last night as I was pounding out mile 4 I turned a curve in the path and the evening sun was gleaming through the trees dotting the river bank. Spheres of fluffy cotton seeds glowed in the sparkling light, their orbits dancing all around me as I chased my long lean shadow home.

Life is a rose bush.

Full of thorns.

And forever beautiful . . .

Love,
~Audra

Dear Daphne . . .

I didn’t know.

I didn’t know back in the beginning of April that the very witty guy who emailed me on Match.com and made me laugh had been making you laugh since December. I didn't know he'd told you he'd deactivated his online profile months ago.

I didn’t know that when he and I met for drinks a week later that you assumed he was spending the evening with his children. When he and I visited over Pinot and he told me he hadn’t dated in a long time I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to believe him.

A week later when I appeared on the radio to promote my blog I didn’t know that when he texted me afterward to ask me to dinner that he always made excuses to not go out in public with you.

The first week in May when he sat in my kitchen for hours and talked with me after helping me put an old appliance on the curb for spring cleaning week I didn’t know that you were going to attend a Butch Walker concert with him that weekend.

As the weeks progressed along with my relationship with this charming man I didn’t know you even existed.

When he played sports in the evenings I didn’t know that afterward he went to your house to shower and spend time with you. I thought he was doing paperwork.

When he came to fix my daughter’s swing set, the kid I’ve nicknamed “Monkey,” I didn’t know there was a woman to whom he’d assigned a similar term of endearment to and that you were his “little monkey.”

In June when I asked him if he was dating anyone else as he laid on my bed and kissed me, I didn’t know that when he said “No” he was promoting a charade.

When I told him about how I'd been betrayed in a relationship last year I didn't know you'd shared a simliar loss and that he was well aware of how fragile the hearts were that were in his hands.

When I commented on his clothes I didn’t know you’d bought them for him.

When I asked him if we could change our Facebook status and he said no and made fun of me for being juvenile because Facebook is stupid I didn’t know I should question his reasoning.

When I introduced him to all of my friends as my boyfriend at the end of June I didn’t know that I was sharing him.

I didn't know that he had segregated his life into two social circles.

One with you.

One with me.

When his children were out of town and he invited me to stay at his house I didn’t know that he was choreographing time between the two of us and that you were invited the next night.

When he asked me to park in the garage because the mosquitoes were bad I didn’t know he was hiding my car.

All these other couples that the two of you would hang out with together are names I never heard. I didn’t know those people existed.

When he started to resist being out in public with me I didn’t know it was because he had something to hide, I thought it was because he wanted to hold me in his arms in private.

When he cancelled on me last minute as I was preparing to join him at the lake with his friends and children I didn’t know he did that because you were already there.

When he texted me on my birthday when I was out of town I didn’t know he couldn’t call me because you were sitting right beside him.

I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to believe him when he said he was having second thoughts about having me spend an afternoon with his children and that the real reason was because you were with him.

When he was always busy working or spending time with his kids I didn’t know I was supposed to question those good things and that instead those were the times he was with you.

I didn’t know someone could be so cruel. I didn’t know someone could lie so often and so effortlessly. I didn't know someone could be so calculating. I didn’t realize that deceit existed on this level. I didn’t know that someone could fabricate untruths with such ease. I didn’t know that when he told me my expectations were too high and that if I wanted a real relationship I needed to slow down that he was only trying to buy more time to continue his cunning charade.

I didn’t know he was a cheating on you.

I didn’t know he was cheating on me.

I simply.

Did not know.

But now I do.

And you do too.

From April to July we were not treated as people worthy of compassion and honesty, we were treated as pawns in a giant game of control and deception. But that game is over and if I know anything now, Daphne, I know this:

You will stop crying. You will get out of bed. You will find your strength and voice again and you will go on. You will be resilient. You will learn a lot about yourself. You will find threads of force within your being that you did not know existed. And you will weave those threads into a rope that you will use to propel yourself forward, to pull yourself up out of this hole that you did not dig but were thrust into. For you are a woman, a strong woman, a woman who will not give the power to this flawed and awful man to determine your self worth and value as a human being.

And even though today you can’t fathom this truth, I know it with all my heart and soul:

You will forget him.

I will forget him.

And I will be there with you, my sister in sadness. As will every woman who has ever hurt so deeply she has felt her soul vaporize like a gasp in that awful instant when lies become truth.

I know today it hurts. It hurts terribly. I'm crying too.

But I also know after all these awful days stretch out there will be a day when the sun shines on our hearts again.

And I know.

We will go on.

Heads held high. Scars and all.

Hold on to me. I won't let you drown.

Love and blessing, let's make this ugly thing beautiful. Here's to shining new friendship in the darkness.

~Audra

(Always here for you "Blondie" . . . love "Chronicle Girl" . . . )

My Readers Reply to "Dear Daphne" . . .

There "Dear Daphne" letter was originally published on July 13th, the day after she and I discovered this deceit. I was invited to appear on KFGO the next day as I appear regularly to promote my blog. I read the letter on the air and the response has been astounding. The response was so positive that KFGO has been repeatedly airing my reading of the letter on the air throughout this week. I'll post an audio link soon . . .

There is a "Comments" section at the end of each blog post and I want to thank those of you who took time to write your heartfelt and compassionate thoughts. When "D" read them her response was . . . "my heart is soaring." Thank you for demonstrating such love . . . I have reposted the immediate commentary this letter received for easier access in a post of its own. If you wish to add your thoughts please click on the "comments" link at the end of either this post or the "Dear Daphne" letter post . . .

Love and Blessings, ~Audra


Anonymous said...
I am not sure you should (or will want to) post this. I just want you to know that I know "D" very well...you see...I am her mother. I know that this beautiful woman has been hurt by more than one man...and she doesn't deserve it. She is smart, sincere, has a good job,and is beautiful both inside and out. If she has any faults it is that she is too trusting...too kind,too loyal, and too generous...the very things that people should strive for...fail her. I would like to believe that she was shown these good things by her parents...but I believe that they just come naturally to her...she is just that kind of person. I know that there is the right "someone" out there for her and I tell her not to give up...he WILL come along. I hope for your sake that Mr. Right will come into your life as well. Thank you for being so kind and 'being there' for "D"...you couldn't find a better friend.
July 13, 2010 5:29 PM

OarFan5 said...
Wow...never met D's Mom before, but I love her comments...and knowing D pretty well, I totally agree with her. D couldn't be more due for a future of kindness, gentleness, and for someone to wrap his arms around her and be the proudest guy in the room everywhere they go.And I'd repeat that sentiment for you, too, Audra. Excellent blog...in so many art forms pain seems to bring out awesome creativity, and your blog this week is no exception. (That being said, I'd rather read boring blogs and you be happy!)Peace.
July 13, 2010 6:17 PM

SLS said...
*tears*I am SO sorry for both of you. I also know D very well...and if there's anyone who is due for a loving, supportive, respectable relationship, it's D. Neither of you deserve this and I'm very sorry you have to go through it. Audra, this letter to D is brilliantly written. How you have embraced her is selfless and honorable...I don't think many people would have reacted the way you have. Thank you for taking my friend in your arms. Thank you for being strong for her. Thank you for your courage to lead her through this only to come out on the other side with your heads held high.To D: I've said it before, I'll say it again: stay strong. Don't be defeated by this. You deserve so much better. As your mom said, you are a kind, smart, caring, giving, loving, sincere woman who deserves a man who is willing (not to mention able) to give you those things in return. He is out there...don't give up on that.Love you...and Audra, I can't wait to meet you. =)
July 13, 2010 8:02 PM

Audra said...
To D's mama bear, What beautiful commentary. Your family has been through a great deal, but it looks also that there is a great deal of something more than just loss . . . love. Although the circumstances have been adverse the past few days, I welcome D's presence in my life. I feel blessed to know her . . .Love,Audra
July 13, 2010 8:03 PM

Anonymous said...
Audra: I always knew you were one of those students that was "special." Special to others, special to me, special in your resiliency...your purpose of life? Well, I think you found your calling...you know this happened for a reason...all things do...you and "D" will form a bond that will withstand tests of time and trial...you have just started to see that...I kept the rope of sand picture you drew in high school for a long time...you did not weave a rope of sand Audra...you wove a rope of strength...you are perhaps the best thing that has happened to "D" in a long time...I read this to my 19 year old son (because you will forever be 19 in my mind...and because he is a guy). Braeden says "remind them both that not all guys are jerks...not all guys should be labeled because of a bad few...they deserve better, and if they are patient, one of the good ones will find them, probably when they are not even looking..." Well, I thought it was pretty insightful for a 19 year old guy...Always there for you....:) CJH
July 13, 2010 9:53 PM

Kellie said...
Wow, Audra....It is so unfortunate about the circumstances behind your blog post...I hope you realize that when you read it back for yourself it is one of the most beautiful, heart-wrenching "stories" that is obviously full of your raw emotions...We as readers are in awe of your words, yet we feel so sorry for the pain that has caused you to write them.For both you and "D"- This person is not a man, he is not even a human being. For someone to do this so coldly, so calculating, it is beyond belief. Please don't let this person change who you are...Don't let him take away your trust in others and your right to love and be loved in return. Don't let this person do this to others. Tell on him, rat him out, purchase a billboard, do whatever it takes because maybe, just maybe, you will give another woman the information she needs so that she will never trust her heart with this scumbag...
July 14, 2010 12:10 AM

Anonymous said...
"D"Sorry that you have joined this awful club. With love I suggest you read the Healing Library on SurvivingInfidelity.com. I personally know that it is hard to never quite get the 'why's and how could he' of this situation. I know that betrayal reaches to the core of you with stabbing pain. I know that it questions everything that you thought was you. I know it sends you in a tail spin of questions: 'Did I do the right thing, should I have asked different questions, maybe if I had done something differently it would not have happened?' And even the biggie... 'but, I still love him - How will I get over this?' It is a roller coaster ride of ups and downs, twists and turns.And the only thing that works to slow that roller coaster down is time. You need to heal. Healing takes time. Healing takes work. Healing takes patience. talk. cry. write. wear pink. and just know, that you are loved.
July 14, 2010 9:13 AM

Audra said...
This empathetic woman asked me to share her commentary, she sent me this in an email and asked me to post it here:

Audra,Great Blog! Very Impressive and well written.For D....I feel your pain! I went through something very similiar..not just once..but twice! The first time it happened my ex met his "soul mate" while vacationing with my dad and brother!! He traveled back and forth Fargo to be with her! The second time was the last time. While he was sending me 6 dozen roses..for the 6 years we were married..he was sending the "other woman" the same roses and sharing the bedroom! I look back now and even though it was the most difficult thing that I had ever done..it was the best thing I had ever done! I drew all my strength and decided to move on. Two months ago (after being divorced for 6 years) I married the love of my life and all I can tell both of you is that it was so worth the wait! You have to be strong and stay positive. I, like you, trust too easily and always give others the benefit of the doubt! If I can get through this anyone can! You will look back on this..and even though it is hard now..you will thank the Lord that you are able to move on with your life and find true happiness! I am the happiest I have ever been in my entire life and it will happen to you too! Stay strong and stay focused! Surround yourself with good friends and family! You will need them now more than ever! My thoughts are with you!!
July 14, 2010 10:00 AM

Anonymous said...
Great writing, terrible story in that you and "D" were both hurt. It amazes me how people, whether it's men or women can do this with no guilt and so coldly. He will get his. I truly believe in the saying, "What goes around, comes around." A cheater will one day be cheated on.
July 14, 2010 5:09 PM

Audra said...
The comments you have taken the time to put up have been very uplifting for both me and "D" . . . thank you for taking the time to write such heartfelt sentiments and compassion . . . we are both so gratefulfor for your embrace. I chose to delete a few comments, not because they weren't wonderful, but because they called out identifying information about "him" and as a professional writer I can't identify others in my writing without their permission. Those are my professional parameters for my blog, it is one of the reasons it is so popular. My email address is fourgirlsonestory@gmail.com if you would like to email me commentary that doesn't fall under those parameters, I am always happy to hear from my loyal readers.Blessings . . . ~Audra
July 15, 2010 6:37 AM

Anonymous said...
Very well written Audra, brings back memories of how I hurt someone a long time ago much in the same way. I am embarrassed to even mention it, but it's a reminder to me that I will never let it happen again. The hurt and the pain that was caused is unexplainable and will never be forgotten, but time has gone on and people have healed, forgiven and learned huge lessons to live the rest of our lives by. Thank you again for taking the time to write this and remind us that we all need to treat people as we would expect to be treated. Happiness is out there for all of us.
July 15, 2010 12:19 PM

Rockin' the Radio Waves

My last blog post was SO popular that KFGO invited me to be a last minute guest last night! It was a great show. I got to read my letter to Daphne on the air and discuss the larger topics this experience introduced. What motivates such deceit? Is cheating rampant in our society? Has being faithful gone out of style?

I'll upload the podcast for download in the next day or two for those of you who missed it.

Thank you for your endless love and support! I have the best readers in the world.

Blessings . . .
~Audra

You can not even imagine....

....the story I am going to write . . .

This is real time, folks. Can you say CHEATING SLIMEBALL?!?!?

It's still unfolding so please come back soon . . . :( :(

~Audra

Big Love

When I was pregnant with my second daughter I was so huge that when I turned to the side I looked like I was having a German shepherd. From the very beginning nothing about this kid has been small.

The moment her lungs hit air her voice was big. Her personality too large for that little baby body.

At twelve months she endlessly began to inquire, “What dat?” unleashing her big curiosity. At fourteen months she didn’t call her dad “DaDa,” instead she emulated me and branded him, “Honey.” From her highchair she could be heard sweetly, yet loudly, demanding that “honey” bring her “mo mok!” (more milk).

“Honey” would comply.

But not because baby always got her way, but because baby’s love was her biggest big of all.

Big kisses, big hugs. Big, “Love you!” She couldn’t snuggle enough, she couldn’t kiss you enough.

And when she was mad? She couldn’t throw a big enough fit.

This demanding little dynamo is now nine years old and her personality gets bigger by the day.

She makes her friends big presents, she plans big sleepovers, and she never leaves a room without everyone in the vicinity being notified by the resulting silence that she has, indeed, left the building.

Her moods are not mysterious. Not even Helen Keller would be in the dark if she knew this child.

My first daughter, although equally as wonderful, was nothing like this. And is nothing like this.

When she was three years old her father and I marveled at what amazing parents we were. She never had a tantrum, always complied, and was basically, an angel. I seriously wondered if I’d given birth to a saint.

She was that good.

“We should write a book on parenting,” we would tell ourselves every time we’d witness a toddler in full on terrible two’s form. Obviously we were parenting wonders harboring mystical wisdom.

Then.

We had our second child.

And threw all that thinking down the diaper bin.

As plentiful as the stars in the sky, so are the personalities of people. None of us are identical, all of us are unique fingerprints of humanity.

And anyone with more than one child will say “Amen, sista!” to that.

Nature versus nurture.

It’s a mystery.

Our two daughters were reared in virtually identical fashions. For whatever reason the first one was so compliant the cat could have raised her. The second one? Well, let’s just say the cat has been through a lot. (Sorry about that whisker incident, Dolly. At least they grew back?)

I love both my daughters to absolute pieces and celebrate the qualities that make them who they are. One is on her way to being an artist. I can see her living the creative life in a funky studio apartment someday and going to alternative concerts every weekend, maybe even designing the album covers for her favorite bands, sharing her gifts and impacting the world around with her talent and passions. Quietly.

The other? She is going to be a woman who is going to rock the world, an attorney who doesn’t back down, who fights for justice and stands up for the underdog. Or maybe she’ll be the activist who marches on Washington, speaks from her heart, and lobbies for change while pumping signs of protests (designed by her quieter sister).

We are all gifted in some way and blessed with talents that pepper the world with human qualities as unique as the sound of our voices. And as the mother of two of those very opposite voices, it is my job to simultaneously guide without stifling, nurture without demanding, and allow my daughters to become the women they are someday meant to be.

The world is counting on me to do just that.

And I plan to.

In a big way.

(That is if my second daughter gets out of her time out chair in time for college . . . .)

********************************
I wrote this post for all the parents in the world who wake up every day and just do the best they can. Who sometimes fail but always try.

For the parents who even though they aren't perfect, provide their children with the best possible thing you can do to guarantee their success and happiness in the world:

Love.

(I love you, my little Peanut Butter. Love, Mommy Butter.)

Happy 4th of July!

I'll be back on Thursday . . . hope you all had a wonderful holiday weekend with your families.

God bless!
~Audra

Trying to be the Change . . .

Sorry about Monday. I actually did blog on Monday but had to remove the post. It hurt people’s feelings. I shall not expound and say only this about it: It has been said that my writing is a gift. If that is true then it is God given. Therefore, I cannot use it to do evil. And hurting others is evil, intentional or not. (It was not my intent.) But I took the story down because of this: No matter what happens in this life there’s always two sides to everything. I’ve lived long enough to know that much. So I took it down. And I’m not saying that because I want applause. I liked the story I wrote on Monday. It was honest and raw. And I used some good metaphors (I am all about the metaphors). But if it hurt someone? Then it’s a bad story. No matter how clever it was written. And no matter how affirming everyone is in their commentary.

Too often in this world we want to say, “Yeah but he did this!” or “Yeah but she did that!”

Karma is definitely real but the cyclical motion of it is something all of us have the power to halt to “Be the Change you want to see in the world.” Isn’t that beautiful? Be the change. None of us are truly victims, empowerment is much more accessible than we realized.

Yes it is. But I think it’s a lot easier said than done. In fact, I think with my strong personality I probably fail at that one every day.

Because truly to live that philosophy you would have to do the following:

When you are wronged. Ignore it. When you are attacked. Retreat. When you are ridiculed. Pray for your enemies.

It is the only way we can ever bring true love into the world.


I have a very hard time with all of the above. When I am wronged I tell the person who wronged me why they’re wrong. When I’m attacked I send a strongly worded text message. When I am ridiculed I pray that person mistakes Nair for shampoo.

It’s a good thing my prayers are rarely answered. If they were half the people I know would be bald.


An approach I heard once that helps me calm down in my more diva-like moments is to imagine someone you strongly dislike as either an infant or an elderly person. Doing so can provide the ammunition to extinguish those negative feelings. Imagining that person in a more vulnerable state of life allows you to see the whole person and almost, do I dare say?, look upon them through the eyes of God.

For God sees our whole story. From beginning to end. Our entire life is stretched before Him. He knows why we do what we do, why we think the way we think, why we act the way we act. He sees a side of us that honestly few other humans will know of us.

None of us can ever have an omniscient perspective but we can at least try to forgive the humanity of others and simply acknowledge our own.

So.

That’s that.

Let us all be more cognizant of our thoughts, words, and actions and how they ripple through the world around us. Spread waves of humility.

And be a barrier to waves of anger, resentment, ridicule, and misunderstanding.

YOU.

Be the change you want to see in the world.

When you hurt others apologize. And when they hurt you? Well, as for me I will simply try to refrain from future Nair hair prayers.
**************************************************
Since I removed Monday's post I won't do a Thursday post this week. Wednesday will have to do this week blogarama fans. Happy 4th of July everyone...and happy 38th birthday to me this weekend. The original firecracker. Well, not the "original" . . . I'm getting old but I wasn't born in 1776!

Although somedays 1876 might seem plausible . . .

Muah!
~Audra

Today's Post . . .

Will be up tomorrow, thanks for your patience!
~Audra

Naomi the Nut

I really should just follow Naomi around and record every word she says. It would make blogging easier for me because every time she talks I pee my pants.

Some Naomi-isms from the week.

On her teenage son learning to drive:

"I told my 14 year-old son he could get a driver's permit and put it in his wallet. Sure, that part's fine. I did not tell him he could put me in a car and drive ME around in the car. I draw the line."

On my venting about how I want more communication from someone I dated once:

"It's not like you're asking for much. The guy never talks to you. I mean really, what you're asking for something is more than zero. Like one. Or even half of one. Since when is a percentage high maintenance?"

Her response to her kids asking her for money:

"What do I look like? The Bank of A-Mom-ica?"

A petty reason she gave for not wanting to go out on a second date with a guy who clearly was concerned about her well-being:

"He said "drive safe. It's not "drive safe" it's "drive safely." I can't be expected to date someone who wants me to "drive safe."

And finally, the reason she actually did date someone with poor grammar for far too long:

"What can I say? He passed the orals . . . "



Thanks for the laughter, my dear friend. I'm off to buy some Depends now because I just can't hold it in when you're around . . .

~Audra

Do you love this or what?

Blogger has some new template designs, so of course I thought I'd take this one for a test drive. It's so girly . . . so full of estrogen . . . so pink to the bone. Whatdayathink? Too foofoo? Too Paris Hilton? I tried some edgy black "I read poetry and think about the meaning of life" ones but I just looked like a wannabe. (Although I do love a good mysterious Poe bit time and again, The Tell- Tale heart just pulls you right in, I'm tellin' ya.) But it just didn't work for my blog.

Screw it. I shop at Victoria's Secret, paint my toenails fuchsia and long for Jennifer Lopez's wardrobe. Therefore, I shall embrace my femininity and just go with one.

Like I always say . . .

Girl.

Power.

~Audra

Detour into Dating Land

I think I’m actually going to write about relationships today.

I know. I know. I changed the title of this blog from Dating Land to Chronicles of a Girl because I wasn’t writing about dating too much. I was still blogging under that title but the topics I chose to yak about were more like Celibate on the Farm. Hardly Sex in the City.

Now notice I said I wasn’t writing about dating too much. I never said I wasn’t dating too much.

Oh get off the floor and pull that wool off your eyes dear readers, of course I date. Well, kind of.

Don’t get too carried away with that notion. It just basically means I’m not home knitting every weekend. (Maybe every other . . .)

The truth is I do like writing about relationships. Because guess what? At our funerals no one reads our resumes. People talk about who we loved. And who loved us.

That is the essence of our stories.

Therefore, I haven't given up. And I never will. I get out there. And I try. Over and over again. Because I believe in love. And I'm never going to find it if I don't simply:

Look.

So here ya go. The chronicles of this forever inquisitive and eternally awkward little traveler in Dating Land and some highlights from three guys who stumbled into my path in the past year:

Guy #1: Justin Case

I met Justin last fall and we clicked on a level I’d never experienced. Work, interests, sense of humor. I truly had a fantastic time with him. He stated that he thought our connection was exceptional and unparalleled by any previous romantic experience and I agreed. But it turns out he was also having the same identical exceptional and unparalleled experience with another woman at the same time. To his credit he did tell me about her but he quickly qualified this as appropriate since I was ranked ahead of her. But he wanted to maintain contact with her because, well?
Just.
In.
Case.

(I am all for insurance but that was ridiculous. Adios, bub.)

Guy #2: I. B. Astalker

The next guy was very very nice. We didn’t really have a lot in common but I figured he was worth investing some time in to getting to know better. My definition of “more time” was a much longer timeline than his. After three dates he started showing up unexpectedly where I was and following me around town. Because in his mind I was his girlfriend.

In mine?

He was a stalker.

I’m all for hunting but not when I’m the prey.

Guy #3: Ivan Notdivorcedyet

And finally, there’s sweet Ivan. Ivan neglected to tell me when we first met that he was getting divorced. And wasn’t actually YET divorced.

Goodbye Ivan. Maybe call me next year when you’ve been single for a longer than the lifespan of a house fly.

I love basketball but I never was good at that rebounding deal.

So there you have it. See? I date. It’s true. Although all of these stories have a nice healthy time delay. I never write about the present. And don't even ask if I'm dating now! I may type with wreckless abandonment on the internet but I do have discretion. You’ll just have to keep wondering. Or wait for me to change the name of my blog again.

In fact, I think I already have a title picked out for that shockingly optimistic future time when I do finally meet "the one":

Happily Ever After Land.

Because no matter how many Justin Case/Stalker/Rebound boys cross my path one thing I am never giving up on is the belief in my very own.

Someday fairy tale.

I'll tell you one thing right now, no one is reading this chick's resume' at her funeral. (I don't care how many Pulitzers are on it!) When this life is said and done all I really want anyone to know about me is that:

I lived.

I laughed.

And I.

Loved . . . . . . . . . . .

Be Grateful. Be Rich.

There are big white billboards all over North Dakota with simple statements in large block lettering instructing passersby to, “Be Kind.” “Be Grateful.”

Or simply:

“Smile.”

Someone told me an anonymous millionaire pays for the signs. Definitely an impressive and inspiring way to spend some extra change.

I like how these signs sneak up out of nowhere as they rotate throughout the entire state. I never know when or where I’ll see one. One minute I’m cruising down the interstate noting that the Come On Inn has a new water slide or that there’s a Perkins at the next exit serving fresh French silk pie and the next I’m being reminded to basically count my blessings.

So I do. For as hilly and curvy as the road of life has been for me, I still find myself often stopping and just thinking to myself:

I love my life.

I really do.

I’ve made some tremendously difficult changes in the past few years but they were vital, for myself and more importantly for my children. Subsequently, life is unfolding in ways I once had only imagined possible.

And it is such a blessing.

But I do wonder sometimes about this mystery person when I see these declarations in the ditch. I wonder just how much money we’re talking. And if this person is taking heir applications?

Just kidding.

What I really wonder is what happened to make this individual want to share these simple viewpoints with the people on the prairie? Because obviously he or she knows that happiness has nothing to do with a bank balance.

Richness lies in our attitudes.

So when the road of life gets a little bumpy?

Smile.

When other people’s bad attitudes make you crash?

Be Kind.

And when the road detours unexpectedly?

Be Grateful.

Plant those signs along your own life journey and you’ll be wealthy.

In the ways that matter most.

Life Prevails . . .

I didn't blog yesterday. I lost a pet and it was a very difficult experience . . .

I'll be back on Thursday.

Love,
Audra

Are You Feeling My Mojo? And other True Tales of Dating Desperation.

“Do you have any dating advice for me?”

This question always cracks me up to no end. Somehow just because the URL to my blog has the word dating in it people make this wild assumption that I, well, know something about dating.

Hmmm. Maybe if I did I wouldn’t be so perpetually single?

Ok, pessimism aside, maybe my singledom is a sign that I DO know something about dating. After all, I didn’t run off into the sunset with a rebound right after my divorce, I refuse to compromise or settle, and I know exactly what my deal breakers are. (Meth habits and cowboy boots. Both equally appalling as far as I’m concerned.)

The guy who posed this question actually dated my friend, Naomi, ever so briefly. As in I’ve had colds that have lasted longer. Regardless, because of this minimal exposure I was pseudo aware of how this guy dates women.

I debated briefly what to say to him. And decided I should just do him a favor and rip the band aid off.

“Dude, don’t try so hard.”

Because really, with Naomi anyway, he did try too hard, way too hard. He texted her too much, he wanted to know if she was “feeling the mojo” about ten minutes after meeting (no commentary on his usage of the word mojo, that’s in a category all its own), and he asked questions that read like the email surveys I get from my Aunt Bertha. (Knowing a woman’s favorite color isn’t exactly the kind of information that’s going to really signify happily ever after, is it? Would the response really ever be, “Red? Really? You like red? This is so over. I really pegged you for chartreuse.”)

The guy is a great guy but he really just needs to chillax.

I told him: “Treat a romantic interest kind of like you’d treat a new friend. Let it flow. Get to know each other. And really, what is the rush? Last I checked an asteroid is not hurtling toward Fargo. No need to do the fifty yard dash to the alter. Stop trying to force it.”

After all, for as simple as it sounds, there is this complex mystical magic called chemistry that needs time to develop. You start with physical attraction, then you find out if can stand talking to this person for more than 20 minutes, and then you just . . . well? See. Discover each other. After all, it takes a hundred years for an oak tree to reach its majesty. I’m not suggesting you try for second base when you’re both in a retirement home, but I am saying:

Don’t rush.

And of course: be yourself. Don’t audition. Don’t try to be witty. Don’t try to be charming. Just be you. The right person will find you witty and charming. They will. If you have to construct it, then it’s not authentic and you’re just going to look like you're getting relationship strategies from email forwards when you start asking things like, “What’s your favorite winter activity and why?”

Instead, stick to something more like this: “How was your day?”

The beauty of my advice is found in its simplicity. Because really, the people you filter through when you are genuinely yourself, the ones you took time to discover . . . when those dating adventures didn’t go anywhere? Celebrate. You can know for a fact Jack, none were “the one.”

As for this guy? Yeah, that’s a pretty easy one if you ask me. My prediction is the woman he’s looking for will be the one who’s still voluntarily still standing there.

Long after he’s used the word “mojo.”
****************************************************
The individual I used as inspiration for this story gave my perspective his blessing. I am very careful about not being too critical of others when it comes to matters of the heart. Thankfully, he's a huge blog fan of mine and he found this story humorous and didn't mind my using him as "material" at all. At the end of the day, we're all just doing the best we can . . . and to those of you who are single and hope to maybe someday fall in love? Well, I've been told that "He is out there, Audra, and he is looking for YOU." And I believe that's true for all of us. So just be yourself . . . and God won't let you fall.

Muah!
~Audra

In Honor of Memorial Day . . . In Flanders Fields

Although he had been a doctor for years and had served in the South African War, it was impossible to get used to the suffering, the screams, and blood. Major John McCrae had seen and heard enough in his dressing station to last him a lifetime.

As a surgeon attached to the 1st Field Artillery Brigade, Major McCrae, who had joined the McGill faculty in 1900 after graduating from the University of Toronto, had spent seventeen days treating injured men -- Canadians, British, Indians, French, and Germans -- in the Ypres salient.

It had been an ordeal that he had hardly thought possible. McCrae later wrote of it:

"I wish I could embody on paper some of the varied sensations of that seventeen days... Seventeen days of Hades! At the end of the first day if anyone had told us we had to spend seventeen days there, we would have folded our hands and said it could not have been done."

One death particularly affected McCrae. A young friend and former student, Lieut. Alexis Helmer of Ottawa, had been killed by a shell burst on May 2, 1915. Lieutenant Helmer was buried later that day in the little cemetery outside McCrae's dressing station, and McCrae had performed the funeral ceremony in the absence of the chaplain.

The next day, sitting on the back of an ambulance parked near the dressing station beside the Canal de l'Yser, just a few hundred yards north of Ypres, McCrae vented his anguish by composing a poem. The major was no stranger to writing, having authored several medical texts besides dabbling in poetry.

In the nearby cemetery, McCrae could see the wild poppies that sprang up in the ditches in that part of Europe, and he spent twenty minutes of precious rest time scribbling fifteen lines of verse in a notebook.

A young soldier watched him write it. Cyril Allinson, a twenty-two year old sergeant-major, was delivering mail that day when he spotted McCrae. The major looked up as Allinson approached, then went on writing while the sergeant-major stood there quietly. "His face was very tired but calm as we wrote," Allinson recalled. "He looked around from time to time, his eyes straying to Helmer's grave."

When McCrae finished five minutes later, he took his mail from Allinson and, without saying a word, handed his pad to the young NCO. Allinson was moved by what he read:

"The poem was exactly an exact description of the scene in front of us both. He used the word blow in that line because the poppies actually were being blown that morning by a gentle east wind. It never occurred to me at that time that it would ever be published. It seemed to me just an exact description of the scene."

In fact, it was very nearly not published. Dissatisfied with it, McCrae tossed the poem away, but a fellow officer retrieved it and sent it to newspapers in England. The Spectator, in London, rejected it, but Punch published it on 8 December 1915 . . .


In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) Canadian Army

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place;
and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead.
Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved,
and now we lie In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

************************************************
I attended the Memorial Day services in my little rural hometown this weekend. As the poem, "In Flanders Fields" was read I looked around the sunny hall at the grey haired veterans and saw in their teary eyes the misty ghosts of fallen solidiers, hometown boys from years ago, who never made it back. I found the story of the poem on this site and thought I would reprint it here. http://www.arlingtoncemetery.net/flanders.htm Let us not ever forget the sacrafice of the men and boys who never came home . . .

My Eternally Impossible To Do List

I make a “to do” list every day. And I am not sure it is something I should be proud of. It sounds kind of anal retentive, mildly neurotic, and absolutely futile. But I do it anyway.

One for work. One for the rest of my life.

From conference calls to dentist appointments, it’s all there, mapped out and meticulously crossed off as accomplished. Unfortunately, some days I wonder if my to do list crawls off my counter, puts on a naughty little number, hits the bars, and brings home another shady to do list, gets busy, and gives birth to a whole slew of additional tasks. Because I don’t know how this multiplication happens but some days my list is longer at the end of the day than it was at the beginning.

Perplexing.

My point? I am busy as crap.

Case in point: when people ask what my favorite tv show is I just kind of glaze over and get all slack jawed because honestly? Who has time to watch tv? I do not. Maybe I should make time, but I simply cannot imagine having the luxury to just sit on the couch and do nothing. I have kids, pets, a job, a house to clean, laundry to do, bills to pay and a yard to mow. I know everyone else does too so maybe they know something I don’t? Or they have maids, gardeners, and a laundry service. Or else they don’t and they live in filth, have knee-high grass and wear the same pair of underwear for days on end.

Who knows?

All I know is I am damn busy chasing after the eternally impossible to do list.

The one thing that I do make time for on that list though, no matter what, is my daily run. That is my escape. That is my sanity. It is the one task on my to do list that trumps everything else. (Well, I don’t let my children starve or run around in the same outfit for three days in a row, they are a priority, but you know what I mean.)

Today was an exceptionally crazy day and gave up on my to do list for good at around 7pm. There were still tasks left but I threw in the towel and waved a flag of surrender in the form of my running shoes and iPod. The bathroom was dirty, the laundry needed to be folded, and the kitchen was experiencing a dirty dishes hostile takeover.

Screw it. I’m going for a run.

And that’s that. Cranked up my favorite Lady Antebellum song and hit the trail.

Good bye to do list.

I’ll see you.

Tomorrow.
*************************

I Run to You ~ by Lady Antebellum
Music Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rs38lKxmtI4

I run from hate
I run from prejudice
I run from pessimists
But I run too late

I run my life
Or is it running me?
Run from my past
I run too fast
Or too slow it seems

When lies become the truth
That's when I run to you

This world keeps spinning faster
To a new disaster
So I run to you . . .

Sanctuary from the Wind

I was in a wedding this weekend.

Therefore I feel like I should write either something profound about marriage and commitment or just merely document the silly stuff, like how my daughter thought my bright pink bridesmaid dress made me look like a cake. Or a beehive.

Although I don’t think beehives come in fuchsia so I'm gonna go with the cake.

The wedding was outdoors and because of hurricane force winds, had to be held in a tent. Have you ever been in a tent during 40mph winds? It isn’t exactly romantic. Frightening may be a better description.

Yet the bride and groom beamed through it all as the tent creaked, flapped, and threatened to collapse on the nuptials and earn the wedding some unwelcomed publicity on the ten o'clock news. (I tried to strategically stand away from a support beam as I really didn't want to be on the news looking like a bleeding beehive.)

Having been married, very awfully married, I try not to be cynical at weddings. Especially when I’m dressed in pink and holding hydrangeas. I am a romantic person at heart so of course I want to believe I am witnessing the beginning of someone’s happily ever after, the end of a fairy tale that has only truly just begun.

So I’m standing there, my feet aching in 4 inch stilettos, hoping the tent holds up, while watching my friend in her Monique Ihuillier dress, complete with Swarovski crystal belt, and I find myself wondering how this couple is going to handle the winds of life: How will they do the first time their “someday” newborn screams for three days straight from an ear infection? What about baby barf, bills and a distant future where boredom may invade the bedroom? What about job loss, death in the family, or daunting diagnosis?

For the storms come to everyone, howl around our shelters and try to break inside and ruin our perfect plans. For no matter how fancy the dress, impressive the flowers, or entertaining the band at the wedding dance, ultimately marriage is just about building the kind of foundation that can weather the storms when they descend.

I smile to myself as I realize this is a very fitting beginning, this crazy windy circumstance. For as hard as the wind whipped, screamed, and yelled, it did not break in. The tent held. The couple smiled. And the beginning of a life long journey was sealed with a kiss.

May this be the metaphor on which they build their future. Let them construct a strong sanctuary where they can huddle together as the winds of life blow all around them.

And never collapse their union.

********************************************
"I do to the future!" Congratulations my dear friends!! I couldn't resist commenting on that wind situation . . . it made for a great story and will always be something you will remember about your wedding day. I wanted to tie to something beautiful. So when the "winds of life" blow, just remember: that tent didn't collapse on May 22, 2010.

And may your marriage be the same: strong and sheltering, forever and always.

~Audra

Tuesday . . .

This week's Monday post will appear tomorrow . . . I had a Tommy Boy sales trip last week followed immediately by a wedding (not mine!) I was a bridesmaid, doing the twist in a fuschia frock to the greatest local band ever, The Front Fenders. (Okay, my cousin is the lead singer, but they're still tremendous!)

For those of you who followed my "Divorce Land" blog a few years ago . . . the "Divorce Land Girls" are one by one saying "I do, to the future!" Sonja married the love of her life this weekend . . . Smiley Susie Sunshine is next in a few weeks!

And do not even ask about my personal life . . . all I am going to say, is that I think . . . I might actually have one . . . Shocking, I know.

See you here tomorrow, blogarama fans!

~Audra
P.S. Muah to my "cab driver" on Saturday night . . . !! :-) And silent grateful blessings for the Christmas Eve miracle of 1984 . . .