Category Archives: Beeswax
As I was with Mr Yummy last week, shit was unfolding at home and with my sister.
SOMEONE, we both know who, found a way in her iPhone, put a key logger on her computer, has accessed her checking account, charged on her credit, and sent out a video, texts, and emails from her accounts online. I’ve had to close a checking, am getting a new phone today with a completely new sound card and IP, and will be either getting an OS to put on my laptop, or I’ll just get a new laptop.
We know where this originated, but we both belong to a phone company that has you contact fraud via snail mail. Thankfully my sister’s friend who is also having to do all this same stuff, belongs to a cell phone carrier that had all the legal stuff he needs to walk into a courtroom, within 24 hours.
We re-keyed the apartment last Thursday. I came home from Mr. Yummy’s and then work and there was my apartment door, WIDE open and a man I didn’t know was repairing my hot water tank. To make matters worse, it was super hot, I was super tired, hung over (rare), hungry, and over-sexed. All I wanted to do was eat my fish and chips, and take a cool shower. Instead I wound up looking for the cat, and trying not to be a total bitch about the water tank being done five days early, without notification of change or warning someone would be in my pad.
Last week, I didn’t realize how stressed out I was over all of this till I got to Mr. Yummy’s, had a few drinks, and he asked if I was relaxed. I was. He took me for a ride on his bike. It was very nice and my favorite part of it was his hand on my leg as we drove in the sun. He said he only felt me at first. It took me a few to find my pelvis. The last time I was really on anyone’s bike, was the face-breakers in 2010, and he scared me, because he was a dickish driver in order to make a passenger hold on. Mr. Yummy isn’t. He was very specific about ways to hold him on his bike. The words, “There’s already beeswax on my foot-pegs” were said that night.
I told him last week that he still loves me. He sighed and whispered in my ear that I was probably right. I told him I was right, and I know he loves me. He is transparent that way to me.
Well I better make my coffee for work. I’m happy it is Friday. I really need some time to relax.
And I am awake and crying, because I love my life and the people in it.
Last night…or what was Thursday night, I stayed at Mr. Yummy’s house. I watched the remake of True Grit (EXCELLENT MOVIE!!!), he made me dinner, and then we played an amazing game of Shag and Gag. HAHAHAHAHA, yes, I just typed that and although I won’t go into details he and I are amazing.
We ALWAYS had that. We were always good there. He’s the only guy who can consistently make me feel so beautiful in the intimacy we share. He pushes me to really great places, and since we first came together in 2000, we are even better.
I am so thankful that I will never be the person I was in my past. I am so thankful that I learned to be happy with me, before we started seeing one another again. I know that I will love him till this body takes her last breath. I have always loved him, and I have always been “his”. This thing I feel for him, transcends marriage, but I am his in every way that the state and church can never touch. Does that make sense?
He’s my huckleberry. He’s always been my huckleberry, and he’ll always be my huckleberry. I find it very fitting that every time I arrive he has prepared for me a Doc Holiday, made with 360 Huckleberry Vodka.
I am aware that when I go quiet, it is because there is much going on internally.
Right now, there is a lot going on with Mr. Yummy and with my spiritual journey and, I am good.
Happy Friday, maybe this weekend I will take the time to sit and write.
My sissy came to my work yesterday and marveled at the aroma of my beeswax filled world. This made me happy.
I just wanted to add something.
I just sent my sissy a text thanking her for coming by work and experiencing the place that brings me so much happiness and peace. I was telling her I love my minimum wage job, but the fact that it brings such peace and happiness really makes it a very valuable place for me to be…so it’s really not minimum wage if you see the actual value it adds to MY life. See, I believe money isn’t the MOST valuable currency.
Then, something happened.
I became Holly Hunter for a minute. Do you remember Broadcast News? Every morning, she set aside five minutes, and cried. The five-minute cry.
It wasn’t the controlled and timed neurotic melt-down she scheduled, but sometimes…I just feel like I need to set aside a few minutes of private each day to release the ” happy, happy, joy, joy!” moments that reverberate in my life.
OK so NOW…Happy Friday!
I know things are brewing.
I just have to stay open and at the moment, in a few instances, I can really feel unresolved shit beneath it all. It is up to me to let go and forgive and replace the anger with love.
There are two people in my life that sort of stood outside when I tumbled down the rabbit hole. Actually, that is not correct, it’s just that these two people are so close, and so loved, that the chasms dig deep. NEVER, not once have I stopped loving. NOT ONE DAY has passed that I haven’t thought of them, but I haven’t let go of the hurt and sometimes, anger associated with it all.
Regardless, I am at a point in my life, where I am happy. I know how to be happy. I know how to choose love and happiness and those doors are always, and have always been open on my side. The hurt and anger is because, it’s not a two-way street.
The difference for me, in my life NOW, is I know that I AM love.
It’s time to shower and prepare for another day of beeswax.
That shit, rocks my world. I wish I could explain it to you, but I seriously feel totally grounded by it. More than ever, I want to bee-keep. Somewhere out there is a place where I will do this. I know through work, I have connections.
With growth, come growing pains.
With ownership, sometimes just comes pain.
The company I work for is AMAZING. We recently were awarded the highest rated green award for our recycling efforts. I am proud of this.
The owners and management of my company, are also caring and compassionate. At the moment…I am really appreciating this fact. Recently, a good friend’s mother passed away. I asked the owner if we could make some memorial candles for my friend, who also happens to be the company’s tax preparer, along with how I got this job. They of course, went out of their way to do it, and then because of the companies relationship with my friend, did not charge me. Here is the final product:
After giving them to my friend, and seeing how much her whole family enjoyed them and are planning to order more for the entire clan, I was proud. I also started thinking about my grandson that passed away. As I have wailed and stated repeatedly, I never got to meet him during his short six month life. I never had anyone call me grandma, I never got to smell him, or look in his eyes, have him grab my finger, or watch my daughter become a mother. There is a lot of pain there and as much as I have not felt it…I did something without thinking how it would make me react.
I decided that I wanted candles like that, to give my mother, my two sisters, my daughter, myself and my ex-husband. Yes, I am including my abuser, he lost a grandson too. I spoke to the owner this morning and asked him if I could order six similar candles. Of course he asked questions and so my story came out. It was a condensed version without all the dirt. He expressed his sympathy and said they would do it for me. I was happy. I felt like I was doing something that made me own the fact that for once, for a short time, I was a grandmother.
I sat down and continued working. Then I realized my daughter told me my grandson’s name. His first name. I don’t know his middle name. I can assume his last name. I have ONE picture of him, I stole it from the father’s FB page. I have to go to my sister, who is the only one who met my grandson for more photos. All of it hit me, and the tears started. I sat, crying, processing candles while blind with tears for two hours. I kept working as long as the tears stayed silent. When the sobs started in the bathroom, I found my manager and checked out, grateful for the compassion that I am not always sure I deserve. (See that? How easy it is to slip in to old thinking?)
As I am feeling these emotions I have not yet allowed myself to feel, I also am asking myself what the tears are for? Are they for my daughter and her loss, or are they just selfishly for myself? Is it wrong of me to ask my little sister to get my daughter and my older sister their candles, and not tell them they are from me, or this is where I work?
My first “want” when I left work was to call Mr. Yummy and look for a band-aide, but that is an old pattern. I decided to come home, FEEL this and write, burn my Clarity scented candle and center myself back to the now.
I felt my growing pains and didn’t stuff them. I think this is a good thing. It hurts, and it sucks, but I did it, which must mean I was ready to feel it.
One thing I know, the love and support of my friends and family, is a very nice offset.