October 9, 2014

That gorgeous piece of sexy goodness that I love to wake up with  to forgot to come by again last night (this is almost 3 years now), so instead, after mindffuulllll yoga, I read the sweetest post from a man I went to high school with.  He said (and I quote) “Ali, you’re the shit. You are smart, well spoken, and cute as hell just to name a few. You don't need any more on the back side, any man worth having is coming home to what is between your ears. You just hold out for the guy that adores you for you.”  Can I just say those words are better than sex as I remember it (it may have evolved since then), because they put to rest quite a few thoughts that have been plaguing me lately.  A), I feel like an idiot in that words with more than one syllable are harder and harder to come by, as of late (actually, that covers A and B, since it also touches on the well-spoken aspect); C) and D) I am  getting older, so the looks part is also intertwined with the “backside.”  For years, I have the image of Buns of Steel envisioned in my head, yet I have never truly tried to attain said Buns of Steel.  Mike’s words made me feel better in allowing my Buns of Semi-Wet Beach Sand (somewhat firm, but also a little squishy) to remain as they are.  Thank you, Mike….Your words truly did mean SO much to me and solidified the  “not gonna settle” attitude which I have carried for SOOOO damn long now..  My friends tell me that if I don’t give it a chance, I’ll never know, and while I know this to be true, I’m also a firm believer of That Spark. <the Knowing Wink between us is exchanged here>

Today at work, The Student came to say goodbye before departing for the next group home.  Honestly – group homes would have about 90% less business if parents had the means (or willingness, in this case) to parent.  I told Weber today I wanted to teach the sex class.  I’m considering making that my end goal (the school is in SF! Win-win).  Another new student starts Monday…what a revolving door we have.   I received a card and my 10 year chip from a man who has almost 38 years in recovery and is very committed to H&I work, which I also did.  This man is the definition of giving to others and inspires me greatly. <those that come before us>.  A student also noticed my rings on my left hand and asked if someone special gave them to me.  I said yes…I bought them for myself.  She smiled and said, ”oh.”  

 I headed home, then off to class.  If there is one thing I shall NEVER purchase (nor ride on) it is one of those atrocious Spyders..the backwards trikes which look absolutely  ridiculous.  <I’d rather were my motorcycle helmet on my mountain bike than on one of those….>

At school (class-school, not work-school), as I was discussing the near-Quinoa-spill in my bag, and showing a picture of a tie-dye-wearing  friend,  I was questioned:  “And you really have never been to Burning Man???”  Apparently, I fit the stereotype of a Burning Man attendee.  Class was…ok.  It took me an hour and a half to eat my salad because it was so crunchy, so I had to eat it very slowly so I wouldn’t disrupt the class.    I made copies of articles for the incredible paper-writing weekend I plan on having.  I’m glad I didn’t start earlier because have had to re-write everything.  By “Recovery”, I assumed that somehow I was to incorporate my type of recovery with mental illness.  No (although that is a variable).  It is recovery from mental illness.  See?  Sometimes the procrastinator saves herself some work!!  Last weekend fun, this weekend work…yin and yang.

Tonight’s drive home tunes included SuperTramp.  I told Sergio (my male Siri) to find the album Breakfast in America.  He found me restaurants across the United States which serve breakfast – the first being in San Francisco.  After I finished laughing, I found it myself…if he wasn’t such an idiot, we'[d get along fine.  Any man that wants to take me to San Francisco to eat is great in my book, even if he is trapped in an iPhone<modern-day blow up doll>.  The moon was  shyly peeking out from behind a translucent  strip of cloud, and after some ELO, I decided to listen to Little Texas, a country band I followed in Texas before I moved to CA (actually, I literally followed their tour-bus when I lived in DFW, but the driver said the guys weren't on the bus, so I left <epic fail as a groupie>.  I miss the Rocky Mountain jeans, cowboy boots and going dancing at Billy Bob’s.  Those days were beautiful days.  The decision to try it again was made and I pulled up “Don’t Take the Girl” (I saw McGraw at Billy Bob’s 20 years ago) and not a tear was shed this time.  This girl <pointing to self> has self-control.

Pictures: Special rings I bought myself in Santa Fe and High Sierra Music Festival; My 10 year card from Mike; Sergio's attempt to find "Breakfast in America" by Super Tramp.