The Remains of the Year

The past few months have brought a few surprises, both good and bad. I hardly know where to begin...

Let's wrap-up the whole LDB thing first. Once LDB and I struggled through our communication issues around Thanksgiving, I began to understand a little better what was really going on. Of course there were underlying factors and I just wasn't aware of what they were.

For my part, I knew I was having a hard time getting to a place in my head and heart where I could really trust him again. For his, I now believe that depression was driving his erratic behavior. During our last conversation he made some very telling comments about having everything he wanted and how he should be happy, but feels numb. This understanding allowed me to relax and accept the situation a little better.


I finished my first semester back in college in December. I studied so hard and put in dozens of hours but still ended with a major disappointment. Biology was hard but never really an issue for me. I'd maintained a low A or a high B throughout the semester. However, I struggled through physics all the way. By mid-term, I'd pulled my physics grade up to a B and could finish with that as long as I scored a C or better on the final. After never scoring lower than a 70 on any exam in physics, I failed the final. I still cannot wrap my brain around how I only got a 47.5!!! I studied diligently and it didn't feel difficult while I was taking it. I'm baffled. Embarrassed. Sad. Disappointed. I finished with a C for the semester. The grade is perfectly fine and will be acceptable to the Diagnostic Medical Sonography program but I expected so much more out of myself.
Speaking of the DMS program, I am applying next month despite the very long odds of being accepted this coming year. I still need to figure out what I'm going to do for another year.


The unexpected death of my twenty-two year old niece opened a door with a portion of my family, which I would have been happy to keep closed. I just don't know how to act around them. I can't be myself because myself is very judgemental and I have no desire to hurt them. It's not as if they've hurt me, we just have nothing in common other than our blood. My sister has discovered the joys of Facebook and is now in constant contact. The other sister remains estranged - her choice.


I'm getting ready to move, yet again. This basement apartment is adorable but the lack of space and the dangers and discomfort of the city are too much for me to handle. I am going back to the Woodside area of Silver Spring and by June, I will have a roommate. My old next door neighbor, Liz, is leaving her husband and needs to be near-by for their daughter. I don't particularly want a roommate, but I am facing a very difficult money situation next year and this will bring my spending in line.


My head has been spinning with so many things as this year comes to an end. But I think I'll save that for another post...

Over and Out!

My worst fears were recognized and my last two calls to LDB went into voicemail. One directly and yesterday he let it ring and ring.
He never called back or replied to my dinner invitation which really bummed me out.

I'd crafted a pretty nasty letter - in my head. But in general I decided to just let it go.

He texted me Happy Hanukkah in Hebrew the other day. While there's no excuse for his not calling back or replying to my invitation, he has been incredibly busy with his mother visiting from Israel, work and their trip to San Francisco to see his brother. All of which I did know about but forgot.

The important thing is that we are not in a "fight" or playing some silly games. Being angry at LDB is really hard on me. It consumes me and makes it hard to think about anything else. Not what I need during final exams.

Losing Focus

How very sad.

I embark on a whole new life, leave behind a twenty year career and go back to school for a brand new career... and all I can write about in this blog is LDB.

I am about to wrap up my first semester and get good grades and move forward in this entirely new life and all I can think about is the fact that I called him this week, left a message inviting him over for dinner, and haven't heard a word back.
I tried. Nothing more I can do.

But I HATE that it's making me feel so sad. I hate that I feel like crying.

Pushed too far?

Things only got worse with LDB. Let me rephrase that: I MADE things worse with LDB.

The anger I felt from the week he was in NY spilled over into the following week, mixed with severe PMS and baked-up into an unhealthy BAD ATTITUDE. He finally called me on Tuesday - twice. I didn't answer. I was pissed and sent him directly to voicemail where he left no message.
I didn't call him back and my attitude sank even further.

Finally, I texted him Happy Thanksgiving on Thursday and I received another curt reply: "U2".
Wow... thanks.

Today I broke down and texted again: "Did I piss you off?"

I got a phone call back that started with him going off on me that I need to see a doctor because I'm crazy. That he called me three times and I never call him back. He said he thought, "Maybe she's in class or maybe she's away for T-giving..." but when I didn't call or text, he decided that's it, he's done. He thought about where I was. I want to cry now.

He forgot himself for a few minutes and told me about his drunken T-giving with his friends... but he was detached again by the end of the short call and sounded like he didn't care whether we talked again or not. I got in the shower and let myself cry.

I am afraid that I have blown it once and for all.

My brain is working overtime coming up with what to do next. Do I start calling and paying him attention? Pretend none of this happened? Explain to him why I haven/t been calling? Move on and forget him?
What the hell do I do now???

It Figures...

The moment I acknowledged my feelings for LDB; shortly after I committed them to this blog, I was shown exactly what I mean to him.

I haven't heard from LDB since I left him that evening. Not a call, email or even a text. I thought perhaps he was testing me. Perhaps he was tired of being the only one to make contact, so I went ahead and called him. It went straight to voicemail. Later that same night I texted him and he replied, curtly, that he was in NY for the week and returning Friday. When I asked him to call when he had time, he never answered.

Watching my favorite show as I write this I am reminded of Anne Boleyn's words about Henry VIII to her father: "They say all his liaisons are soon over. He blows hot, he blows cold..."

On the one hand, once again, I was able to focus solely on my schoolwork. No more silly fantasies about LDB actually wanting to be with me in any real way now that he is moved into his new, single life. No more staying up half the night, tossing and turning in my bed, imagining his hands on my body and his mouth on mine.

THIS is exactly the situation I was trying to avoid by not allowing myself to show him any affection. I wanted just one sign that I could trust him but it never seems to materialize in any real way. Unless and until there is some sort of grand gesture, I will remain unavailable to LDB.

Now I Know

Nothing has changed in my relationship with LDB: we are still - frustratingly - platonic. We text, we call, we talk. We have the occasional evening together.
One major thing has changed in LDB's life: for the first time in 7 (?) years, LDB is living alone in his own apartment. I know how huge this is, and even that is probably an understatement.

He moved in Sunday and by Monday night, I was invited over. This made me very happy. My actual visit may have seemed like nothing special to anyone else but it left me more sure of my feelings for him than ever before.

On the surface, the night seemed like nothing special and almost didn't happen. LDB missed my call at 6, stopped by his boss's house to pick up more stuff, didn't get home until 9... I was annoyed. But he still wanted me to come over, so I went.

The moment I pulled-up at his new building, I realized where we were... this was where I met him 5 years ago living with the woman who would become his wife. It all came flooding back immediately. As I walked into the lobby I remembered everything: walking in with IA, being insanely nervous, being introduced to LDB at the door as I entered. I remember their apartment, the furniture, the dinner and eating cherries on the balcony. I remember LDB cooked. I remember his smile in the night air across from me on the balcony. And I remember thinking I had a crush on this guy - my boyfriend's best friend.

Tuesday night was slightly different. No boyfriend, girlfriend or wife. We were all alone in a different apartment that looks vaguely familiar.

Like the past few times spent together, this was relaxed, easy, comfortable. We laughed, we teased each other, we stood in his kitchen drinking tea, eating cookies and talking for an hour. Then we moved to the living room to watch TV.

Without a thought or hesitation, he lay next to me on the couch and put his legs up on my lap. Like we do it all the time. I loved the assumption. After a few minutes of more complaining about his back pain from moving, I offered a back rub. He rolled over and I sat on him and tried my best to work out the knots. I was sweating from a combination of working so hard and touching him. His skin was so smooth and soft. I kept looking at the freckle just above his waistband and to the right of his spine. The desire to kiss the back of his neck was almost overwhelming.

After the massage, he sat up and gently touched my arm and said "thank you". There was a split second I thought something more might happen. I thought maybe he would lean in and kiss me. He didn't. But there was something in that touch on my arm. An electricity. Just touching my arm, he made my heart beat wildly.

Because he gets up so early for work, I told him to tell me when he was ready for bed. Kick me out. But he didn't. Finally at 12:30, I decided I should go. He walked me to the door, but instead of even hugging him, I practically ran out. After all these years and all we've been thought, he still makes me nervous! I felt like I was 17. (and acted like it)

My endorphins were pumping so hard that I was wide awake thinking about him until 3 AM. Tuesday night gave me a clarity about my feelings for him. I now know exactly how I feel and what I want... and yet, NOTHING else has changed.
I don't know what he wants, how he feels or if I can trust him not to devastate me again.

What I want

School has been a great distraction. It has really helped keep me from feeling lonely or sad about being alone and single.
Even though I tell people (like LDB) that I couldn't possibly have a relationship right now because I am too busy and focused on school, I wouldn't exactly say no to a relationship with the right man.

A few months ago, I was propositioned by a friend's husband. I was having dinner and wine with this couple, and boldly announcing that I need a "friend with benefits" so that I don't have to deal with this relationship crap. This was before LDB began calling again and right after my summer of idiot boys. This couple happens to be splitting-up and the man took my FWB speech as a cue that we could be of service to each other. The wife even contacted me to let me know that she would be fine with it.

I gave it a try. I kissed this man to see if there was chemistry. There was not. But even before that, I had so many apprehensions that I doubted it would ever happen. Even with the wife's permission, I was uncomfortable with the situation.

Here I am now, comfortable with being alone, but wishing again that I were not. It's not necessarily a desire to ONLY be with LDB... but more of an abstract feeling that I'd like to have that intimacy with someone. I don't need or want to go out and be wined and dined, but to have someone who will let me put my head on his shoulder... or sleep on his chest.

I miss that moment when someone takes my hand and I feel like the most special person on the planet.

Looking back over the past year, I realize I've had men on both ends of the spectrum of a relationship: either all sex or only friendly intimacy.

I certainly don't expect perfection... but I would really like the imperfection of trying again.

Mixed Emotions

As I think back to the time I've spent with LDB recently, I am left questioning my own feelings almost as much as I question his.
Nothing about this situation is normal - including MY behavior.

I thought this before, but last night confirmed: I am not my usual self around him. I am not, in any way, putting on an act or trying to be someone I'm not. Just the opposite. Perhaps it's more appropriate to say LDB brings out a different side of my personality.

I really like that the time we spend together is always instigated by him. But this is not exactly an exclusive invitation. He goes out all the time with various cousins, friends and a ton of women. He's not dating them, but he's certainly spending lotsa time getting to know lotsa different chicks! And yes, I often hear about it. He is full of swagger and stories on the phone but never does it to my face - which I also find telling.

But back to my behavior... it's just plain different from who I used to be when a man I like comes over. Usually, I will be very anxious and nervous. I am never nervous when he calls or he's coming over. I'm happy - to be sure. But not freaking out. I calmly prep the house, prep some fruit to snack on and I have been perfectly relaxed while he was over. (although, the first night I did sit looking at him wondering the whole time if something would happen? Pathetic!)

In fact, relaxed has been an understatement. Both times now, we have sat or lay on the couch watching movies in comfortable silence. Laughing at the movie, but no real conversation. Both times, he was starting to fall asleep and last night so was I. He even remarked how comfortable it was with the warm fire in the fireplace and laying back on the couch. I love that he feels comfortable but wonder if he finds spending time with me boring? I keep thinking I need to plan entertainment for the next time.

When there is conversation, I am not the main talker or the story-teller. So many times I've looked back on time spent with a man and thought I was "on." I felt the need to perform and entertain him the way I would at a personal appearance. Everything that I hated about my life while I was in radio. I wasn't "me," I was "Kris Gamble."

When we are talking, I am far quieter than LDB. I defer to him. He tells the stories and makes the jokes and I laugh and ask follow-up questions. I even catch myself holding back compliments and not expressing feelings if I think they will make me look like a lovesick puppy. (This is CLEARLY a reflex from our past and my pain)

I am left wondering about my feelings for him and whether my behavior is a sign?

Perhaps I'm just feeling cautious because I don't really believe this is going anyplace and I don't want to get my hopes up or get hurt again?
Maybe the feelings I have are just more mature and calm thanks to our very difficult shared experience and length of time we've known each other?

I don't think I can ever really know until my feelings are put to the test. The test will come when he either tries to have a relationship with me or has one with someone else.

Old Habits Die Hard

For the first time in a LONG time, I'm in a terrible mood.

Even my disastrous trip to Las Vegas for my niece's funeral didn't leave me feeling as angry and upset as I do now. It's all tied to the events of this week and it's all my own fault.

Sunday afternoon I got a call from LDB saying "Hi" and catching-up. Ever since our talk about our feelings, I've been better about calling and texting him but still laying back to let him call me. At the end of the call, he asked what I was doing that night and if I wanted to do something. Cutting to the chase, we agreed that he would come over to my house and we'd watch DVDs or TV.
We sat on the couch and watched The Hangover. LDB - from the start - was fidgety and couldn't seem to get comfy. I offered to let him lay back on me and promised not to touch him. He did and I kept my promise - NOT EASY.

Once his head was on the pillow in my lap all I could think about was him. Touching him, kissing him... anything! I stared a lot. I still think him one of the most handsome men I've ever known. He was careful not to touch me.

After the movie, I thought he would go, but he asked for another cup of tea and we watched House. (I was in heaven! House and LDB at the same time!!! Two of my favorite things in my living room!!!)
By midnight he was falling asleep and got up to go. At the door, once again, he did a quick hug and ran out. I can only assume he thought I was going to try to kiss him? Run LDB, run!!!

I had an intense week of exams ahead of me and all I could think about was LDB. I was SO angry with myself for losing focus again. For weeks all I thought about was school and merely spending a night on a couch with LDB changed all of that. I was in such a good place and I'm walking right away from it. And for what? Deep down, I don't really believe that LDB will ever want to be with me, seriously or long-term.

Following swiftly on the heels of that visit, I had my first physics exam and I did NOT DO WELL. Proof positive I lost focus.
Part of me is angry with myself for having LDB come over instead of studying Sunday night. I really believed I had a grip on the material. I got a 70. I am devastated!!! I cried. I don't think I ever cried over a grade before. Granted, I passed. And the professor's policy is to drop the lowest exam score, but I am still SO disappointed in myself.
I've been on the phone with Craig getting tutoring and this was likely to be the easiest of the tests this semester - all of which doesn't bode well for me.

I fell back into all my old depression habits and now I'm struggling to change my behaviors back again: including regaining my laid-back attitude toward LDB. Not easy when he calls again Wednesday and we talk and laugh for 1.5 hours.

My feelings about school are more straight forward: Failure is NOT an option.

You Like Me; You Really Like Me

A few weeks have passed since my last posts about LDB and the situation has shifted almost as often as my feelings about the situation.

Although I vacillate between wanting him and not, it's not always dependent upon his behavior as it was in the past. For instance, he called me while I was in Las Vegas for my niece Kier's funeral and again when I got home. At the end of the last phone conversation he asked me to call him back. I said I would but never did. I wondered what he was thinking over the next few days when he never heard from me, but still didn't feel moved to call him. I felt like I had nothing to say. If I wasn't going to flirt or express my real feelings or really be myself, what would we talk about?

He called back yesterday evening on his way home from work and my lack of calls and texts came up almost immediately in our conversation. Now, I SWEAR I wasn't being manipulative or playing "hard to get" but I admit to being pleased with the results.

When our friend, IA, asked how things are going with me, he told him he thinks I'm playing "hard to get". Just the fact that they're talking about this speaks volumes. It told me what I needed to know - but I had to pursue it and find out how he feels about me.

When he told me about a woman who is pursuing him and commented that she's "effable," I had to draw the line and bring up MY feelings. I told him that hearing him say that some woman is effable makes me sick to my stomach because I still have feelings for him. I stumbled through it and didn't say it like that - but had to say it.
Eventually, he said he still had feelings for me too, but that he's not ready for a serious relationship or even dating.

It was all I needed. It settled so many of the unsettled feelings I had. My constant worries that he was jerking me around for his own vanity were driving me insane just as they had a year and a half ago.

Maybe we'll never be together... but I won't have to live the rest of my life wondering if I ever meant anything to LDB.

Resignation and acceptance

Conveniently, LDB has been absent from my life for a few days now and although my imagination continues to create lovely fantasies of our life together, it has allowed me to better control my conscious mind where he is concerned. I guess that is the best for which I can hope? That he will be an occasional visitor in my world and I will learn NOT to love him?

My greatest fear now is the prospect of his dating. I do not know how I will ever face seeing him with another woman. It was one thing to know he was or see him with his wife. Besides her claim being established far before I even met his friend, IA, deep down inside I never gave his love for her very much credit. That was clear in the intense joy I felt at being told that he had a crush on me.

I can't help but to find myself wondering how he feels about me now. I suspect I know already and that scares me because I assume he feels nothing but the warmth of friendship and shared history. But I know for a fact he has thought of more where I am concerned.

He mentioned missing me. He also talked of remembering what a good kisser I am. If you feel nothing but a friendly inclination, do you dwell on such things as these? However, I am likely reading into these things. I am probably projecting my desires upon him and his occasional, feeble recollections.

My brain is fighting violently with my heart almost daily.

Stop it!!!

He has made it clear and if I continue to ignore it, I will be very sad and hurt.

LDB is NOT playing games. He is NOT leading me on. He has NO interest in me and that is clear. If I continue to dream about him and think about him and make efforts to make him want me, I will end up devastated again - and I will have NO ONE to blame but myself.

It MUST stop now. Stop thinking of reasons to get in touch with him. Stop finding things to do with or for him. Stop reading into his flirty remarks. Really. Stop.

It's YOUR fault this time, not his.

He DOESN'T WANT YOU.

(Buying into this yet?)

Not in a Million Years

So there I am in the middle of the whole "Life Makeover" thing when a really weird thing happens...

This was my first week of classes and it was a busy one! Besides biology, I also had my best friend's brother, Jamie, coming to stay over for one night with his son, Aidan, after an MLS game at RFK.

I was waiting for Jamie's call to pick them up from the metro Wednesday night when I got a message on Facebook from my long, lost ex, IA, asking for my phone number. It had been a year and a half since the LDB debacle and curiosity got the better of me and I gave it to him. While I waited for the phone to ring, I got a text message. FROM LDB.

That's right. THE LDB. The one I blogged about right here (and in the Florida Times-Union). The LDB for whom who I fell so hard a year and a half ago. The LDB who was married and had no business being with me at all. The LDB whom I could not make happy. The LDB whom it took me so many months to get over.
I've spent some 18 months mentally repeating "I hate you, I hate you" every time his face popped into my mind. And that was often. And here he was on my phone. Again.

After a brief but highly informative back and forth - he learned that I lived in DC again and I learned that he was divorced - he asked what next? I answered, "Call me." And he did.

We talked for 2.5 hours. And again the next night for 2.5 hours. He called six times between Wednesday and Saturday. He emailed and texted. He asked me out to dinner. I went.

I can't even write this entry the way I normally would. I can't sit here and type every word we said, or wrote. He wrote and texted and said just enough to me to let me know that he didn't forget me. Just enough to tell me he still thinks about me and us together. Just enough to make me wonder what he wants now. It seems to be that he means only to make amends and be friends again.

I am in such a strange place. At exactly the moment when I let go of any and all desire to be with a man and found happiness alone, LDB found me and insinuated himself back into my life. Even as nothing more than a friend, this man has a gravitational pull which cannot be denied. He makes me want things and dream the dreams I stopped having after my miscarriage in January of 2008.

My sad, feeble imagination takes everything he says and explores it for the most miniscule hint of affection or desire.

I will not admit it aloud, not even to closest friends: I love him. Still. I want him. I think about him and dream about him incessantly.

Who knows why some people affect us they way they do? It certainly isn't rational. I cannot explain it but he is still the very picture of all I ever wanted and hoped for myself in regard to love, family, home and happiness.

In reality, I don't think it will ever happen.
I am fairly sure he will never love me the way I love him, or the way I want to be loved. Now, I must find a way to not only live with that knowledge - as I have these 18 months - but to live with it while he actually remains in my life.

School Daze

I sit here today on the edge of an entirely new life.
I am incredibly excited and scared and equal to the challenge that awaits me.

Tomorrow, I begin taking college classes for the first time in 20 years! The task of going back to school and getting a degree would be daunting enough, but to top it off I am not yet accepted into the Montgomery College program of my choice (Diagnostic Medical Sonography) and run the risk that I won't be accepted by the deadline March 1.
Despite counseling with an advisor, plotting and planning, I will not have all of the required classes completed by the deadline and they could tell me I must wait an ENTIRE YEAR before applying again.
Of course, I am going to introduce myself to everyone in the department, try to befriend and charm them and then beg to be allowed into the program. I will have to play the unemployed 41-year-old card. And any other card I can find up my sleeve.
The prospect of not being accepted into the program frightens me far more than anything else.

I expect great things from myself. I demand nothing less than a 3.0 in every class, if not better. I want to achieve and prove that I can do this and I'm NOT just a trained monkey on the radio. Okay, then, at least I'll be a BETTER trained monkey.

Dans mes reves...

Is anyone out there as affected by their dreams as I? I am, at times, so moved by the people and events in my dreams that I take action in my waking hours. Most often, I have called people in those dreams especially if I haven't spoken to them in a while or if we need to talk over issues.

I have been told by trusted advisors that dreams are our brain's way of working out things we may not be able to work out during waking hours. This makes an incredible amount of sense to me, especially when I look back at the dreams I've had about the relationships in my life. However, what fascinates me are the dreams I have about these relationships when the men are no longer an active part of my life.

My dream last night is a perfect example of these mysterious blasts from the past. I had a very detailed, in depth and realistic dream about my first love, Joe Dare. Over the years, I have dreamt more of Joe than anyone, save my mother. Joe and I have little contact anymore except for the occasional note or posting of photos on Facebook. He is married and the father of two gorgeous children. I cannot lie; I have had days of looking at photos of his family and thought, "it should have been me." I mean absolutely NO disrespect to his wife, but I always believed we would end up together and that I would have a family with him. In fact, when the opportunity presented itself for us to finally consummate our long-time feelings, I backed down out of deference to his (now) wife and my relationship at the time.

Once again, he appeared in my dream last night as he does about once a month. Sometimes the dreams are physical, sometimes not. No matter what the level of sexual activity between us in the dream there is ALWAYS a feeling of deep love and desire. The troubling part is the fact that I usually awake with those same feelings. Even now, many hours after that dream, I am tearing up thinking of how much I will always love that man.

I know, without a doubt, that I will never again be in a relationship with Joe Dare beyond friendship. Rationally, I have accepted that fact and I am happy that he has found love and happiness with his wife and children.

But I also know that there is a place - deep inside my brain or maybe my soul - where I haven't let go of him or the dream of being loved by him or spending my life with him. It is from this place that these dreams and my tears spring. I want so desperately to be at peace without Joe, not only in my waking hours, but deep within my soul.

Considering it been 20 years since we were last together, I'm starting to think I'm never going to get over him.

Why I Don't Date

I have so many things running through my mind. So many things I'd like to write about but I hardly know where to start!

When I returned from England, I was transformed. I had a whole new lease on life and immediately used my better humor to socialize and get out and about more. One of the first events in which I participated was a tubing trip down the Shenandoah River with a bus-full of strangers!

My former co-worker, Lisa, was organizing a variety of events for her birthday and I immediately signed up for this one. I talked my friend Misha into going with me and we set out early that morning from Arlington.
All-in-all it was a very fun day of floating, laughing and drinking a LOT of beer.
During the course of the trip, a young guy named Alex struck up a conversation with Misha in Russian: the native tongue for both as A.M. is from the Ukraine. Slowly, A.M. also started floating closer and closer to me and began flirting. At one point, instead of holding on to my tube, A.M. was holding my hand.

We exchanged numbers and had a few dates in the following weeks.

I was sad and irritated when, after three dates, A.M. stopped calling and completely blew me off without a word.
Two weeks after that, he wrote me a feeble email on Facebook which SHOULD have just read: "It's not you, it's me." The funny thing is, I was over it by the time he sent that pathetic email and it just pissed me off all over again!

More than anything, I was mad at myself for getting involved at all. I knew from the start that there was no way this could end well but allowed myself to be hopeful. Thankfully, it was only three dates and thankfully I'd only just begun to *think* I really liked him. Ironically, that thought entering my head the night of date #3. Oops!

It is a shame he couldn't be more of a stand-up guy about it in the end because I would have LOVED to have a "Friend with Benefits" again. If nothing else, we had excellent chemistry in bed and it would have been fun!

Idiot.

What July 4th Means to Me

Today is the 4th of July and like every year, I am thinking of my mother. Most people think back about Christmases or birthdays but no other day of the year brings memories of my mother, my childhood or my home rushing back like July 4th. As a result, I love this day.

A fan of all things colonial America, my mother loved our home in Riverton, NJ: a thoroughly colonial and historic little borough in the northeast. She would have preferred to stay in Massachusetts but I do believe this was the next best thing and it brought my family back home to be near our other relatives.

Riverton is one square mile and was, for the most part, completely charming. It's a combination of colonial and Victorian style homes and has that small-town feel. Our home was situated right on the main road in town and was ideally located away from traffic and near the Delaware River and yacht club.

Being on Main Street, we were in a prime position for the annual Fourth of July Parade. Every year, my mom planned everything from start to finish to revolve around the parade, our front porch, our pool, tons of food and drinks. We're talking a party that started just before the parade at around 9 AM with coffee and pastries from Klipple's Bakery, continued through to the backyard BBQ by the pool and wrapped with fantastic cakes and pies we made ourselves.

Aunts, uncles and cousins would come for the day, friends who didn't live on Main Street would gather on our wrap-around porch and watch the parade.

My mother was in her element. Not only did she love everything about this town, this holiday and the celebration but she loved being a hostess of such a fabulous summer day of activity.

This is how I prefer to remember my mother. She had many faults and I will not attempt to beatify her just because she is dead. However, for my own happiness for the rest of my life, I choose to look back at my mother when she was at her best and happiest. July 4th was usually just such a day.

If you were here, Mommy, I would ask if you remember making that huge cake that looked like the flag? You let me help and it not only looked great but tasted amazing. Everything you baked or cooked was wonderful. I know I complained like an ungrateful little brat and even made you make separate meals for me. I was a terror! Like so many mothers, you never got the recognition you deserved. You were an amazing cook and wonderful baker.

Every wonderful memory I have about this holiday is thanks to you.
I love you and miss you more than you can imagine.

Subjected to Testing

Just taking a moment to write here about what I have to do in the next few days that is scaring the living HELL outta me!

After all my procrastination and lazing around, I finally had to make some decisions about my life and put the plan into motion.
Luckily, my trip to England had the desired effect of clearing the cobwebs from my brain and I came home ready to get started on a new career and a new life.

I still harbor my dreams of writing (finishing) a book and studying or writing also about Tudor England, but I'm no longer deluded into believing I can pay the rent doing either.

I haven't made the information public yet, (I'm fairly anonymous here) but I have decided to go back to school - Montgomery College - to *try* to pursue a career in Diagnostic Medical Sonography. That's doing ultrasounds and sonograms. I haven't chosen a particular specialty yet but I will have to soon - if I get into the program. It is not enough to want to do this, you need to qualify and be accepted into the program by the college.

To get in, I must take a placement test and then pass the required pre-requisite classes before March 1 of next year. I have an appointment to take my test tomorrow afternoon. I am so freaking scared! I need to do well in math and I have NEVER done well in math!

Yes, I have been reviewing and studying but I am still worried I will do very poorly on the test.
Moreover, what the hell will I do if I can't get into the program?

Which Jane Austen Heroine Am I???

Love this cute quiz...
Being a big Jane Austen fan, I had to see which Austen heroine I would be and no surprise at all:

Take the Quiz here!

iPhone, Therefore I Am

Today is the day!
Apple has launched the latest incarnation of its iPhone, the 3G S.

Anyone who knows me knows that I LOVE my iPhone.
When I went to England last month, the loss of my iPhone on the way to the airport nearly brought me to tears. Living without it for two weeks was a struggle.

I have owned an iPhone for the past two years and in that time upgraded from 1st generation to the 3G. Although I hadn't owned my first phone long enough to upgrade without paying a penalty, the charge was covered by the sale of my 1st generation iPhone on eBay for almost $400! The 1st generation phones could be jailbroken and used on carriers other than AT&T, which made it more valuable than a new 3G which could only be purchased with an AT&T contract. (Without would cost an astronomical amount!)


I could do the same thing this time around - sell my 3G on eBay and upgrade to the S with a penalty. My current contract doesn't expire until December 2010, so I am not eligible for the upgrade pricing. Sale of the 3G would likely offset some of the price of the new iPhone, but since I am unemployed and about to start college again, I am not really in a position to pay any extra money for the latest gadget - which I don't need, but want.

So, if you're still with me and you bought an iPhone 3G S or know someone who did, please send me a note! Leave me a comment and tell me what you think! Is it super-fast? Is this your first iPhone or can you compare? What do you love or hate about it?
Tell me... I need to live vicariously through you!!!

Long Lost Love

I was poking around on Facebook a bit this morning and decided to check out the pages of some old high school friends. Despite all our silly, immature fights and break-ups we were all able to become cyber-friends.

One page led me to another and finally I landed on JSD's page. This was not my first visit to his page, nor was it the first time I looked through his family photos. I am always moved by them, but in different ways depending on my mood and place in my life at the time.

Today, I am happy and hopeful for the future. My trip to England renewed me and gave me a HUGE boost to my self esteem. And yet, I reacted more to JSD's photos than I have in years. It was not, however, the photos of his children or his wife which stirred my emotions. It was JSD himself.

The first thought (besides damn he looks so good) was this: Will there ever come a time where I can look at him and not feel my heart beat faster? Will there ever be a time I do not get a lump in my throat? Will I ever, as long as I walk this earth, not love this man?

It has been more than 25 years since I first met him in person and more than 30 since I first began hearing his name amongst my friends. All this time and I can close my eyes and see his 17 year old face kissing mine. I know that you never forget your first love but are most people able to remember these details? It's not even that want to remember this clearly. I have thrown away all of my journals with detailed accounts of our relationship and purged my life of all memorabilia. It's not that I look at him and yearn to be with him as I used to... I just feel this overwhelming sense of love for him. I just don't know what to do with that.

Moving My Tudor Stuff

For those of you who look at my photos and see only "random buildings" (Misha!) I am moving all of my Tudor and Anne Boleyn-obsessive posts to a new blog meant especially for that purpose.

The Tudor Blog will not only have facts and debunk the myths about Anne Boleyn and the Tudor Dynasty, but will have more of my photos taken in England and it will also be my place to communicate or debate with other enthusiasts.

Stop by sometime!

www.TheTudorBlog.blogspot.com

Leave it to Hever Part II

Being the reason I wanted to come to England, Hever certainly deserves more than one measly post!
Plus, I just have too many photos that will sit forever in iPhoto with no one to see them but I.
As I mentioned, I was able to get away from the crowds and children by walking in the Italian Garden. Because it was only May, many of the flowers and roses were not yet in full bloom but the garden was still lovely.

I was able to further escape the crowds, indeed I was completely alone, when I found a path that led to the outskirts of the property. Along this path was the "Blue Garden" which I could see - even out of season - would be remarkably striking in bloom.In a recent Google search, I found another blogger who had taken this exact same photo (above). I thought this very strange since I saw no other visitors there and have never seen another photo or mention of this place at Hever.
The outside path had several inclines made only of rocks and slate with a brook with waterfalls running alongside.
And finally, the Rhododendron Walk which leads back to the castle.










There were many things I saw at Hever which stirred emotions that no one else would understand without a study of Anne Boleyn's life. To most, this would be nothing but a photo of a honeysuckle but to me, I immediately see the tester on which Anne embroidered her initials with Henry's intertwined with honeysuckle. Who knows, perhaps this very bush was the inspiration?

Leave it to Hever

Well, I'm skipping the story of The Plough... for now...

The day had finally arrived. Tuesday, May 26th was not only my 41st birthday but it was also the day I planned to visit Anne Boleyn's family home at Hever Castle. Truthfully, it was my desire to see Hever that inspired this whole trip. I had originally only planned to stay in Kent but then figured if I could afford the stay in London, I should do that as well.
This was my birthday gift to myself. Well, the whole trip is but specifically, going to spend the day at Hever. When I came down for breakfast, Lynn and the other B&B guest, Jacquelyn had placed cards and small gifts by my place setting.
Despite the sweet start to the day, the weather wasn't looking very encouraging. Tuesday started out as a dark, damp, cloudy, rainy day in Kent. I was so incredibly relaxed by this time, I wasn't even upset about it. I would simply go to Hever Wednesday. I couldn't be bothered with being bothered. After a late morning nap, I soaked in a lovely bubble bath using one of my birthday gifts. By the time I was dressed and made-up, the sun had broken through the clouds and it had turned into a beautiful day.

A quick taxi ride to the hamlet of Hever and I was ready to come face-to-face with Anne Boleyn and her family home. I walked through the gatehouse and purchased my tickets, then made my way down the hill toward the castle. At first glance, I could only think that it was a very small castle. There are also extensive grounds which include a Yew Maze and Italian Garden. But I couldn't wait, I had to see the actual home where Anne Boleyn grew-up first.
The castle is double moated, the second you cross by wooden drawbridge which replaced the original stone. This leads to a portcullis - so popular in the 13th century, when Hever was built.

This leads into a small, open-air courtyard added to the castle by Thomas Boleyn (Anne's father) and built completely in the Tudor style.

So this was not the original entrance. Thomas Boleyn added this attachment as a type of hallway or foyer on the ground floor and a long gallery upstairs which now displays portraits of Anne's daughter Queen Elizabeth I and other cool relics.
I saw the most famous portrait of Anne Boleyn in the National Portrait Gallery, but my favorite portraits are housed at Hever. It is very similar to that famed sitting with the French Hood and black gown but Anne looks slightly younger and prettier. I've never been one of those people who thought Anne was ugly but in this portrait, I find her truly beautiful.
Then there were the portraits of both "Bullen" sisters painted when both were very young and both wearing the "old fashioned" Gable Hoods.



These portraits of Anne (left) and Mary (below) were clearly painted in their youth. I believe (with no evidence) that they were probably painted when the girls were 12 or 13 years old, perhaps just before Anne was sent to be a fille d'honneur in the court of Archduchess Margaret and then went with Mary to serve the French Court.







A teeny, tiny staircase carved into the stone of a wall led to a small room with one window which served as Anne and Mary's bedroom. (Told ya this was a tiny castle! Sisters in a noble family had to share a room.) In the room is a carved wooden bedstead that I was very anxious to finally see in person. To my disappointment, it was pretty obvious that this was never at the head of the bed in which Anne Boleyn slept. (Despite the words actually carved into the wood proclaiming it was!) Even the guide book for the castle says the wood has been dated to Victorian times - not Tudor.
After Henry executed Anne Bolyen and her father died 2 years later, Hever reverted to the crown. Henry then gave the castle to Anne of Cleves in her divorce settlement and her initials and profile remain in some rooms.
After the house tour, I took a stroll in the gardens. I tried to imagine Anne taking the fresh air but I knew that what I was seeing was planted centuries after Anne's life. Except when I looked back upon the castle from the gardens. I stuck mainly to the gardens close to the castle first before venturing out into the Italian garden and sculpture garden and to the lake.

One of my favorite things about the garden was that it wasn't nearly as crowded as the tiny castle. We were a little too cramped in some of the rooms and there were a few too many children touching things and running around. But the gardens were open and clear. Hidden among the bushes and secret paths were an unusual set of chess pieces carved out of bushes surrounding a brass astrolab.
Anne used an astrolab in her signature when she was being courted by Henry VIII. Could it be?
The gardens were a great place to play amateur photographer...


And then more to see and photograph at the lake...



I fell in love... with a little family of swans. Once again, memories of Henry and Anne...

Although these two had far better luck with childbearing...

A Week in the Country

I was a bit nervous about catching the right train in order to get to my B&B in Kent and even more nervous about the prospect of transporting my heavy luggage on the tube and to the train. The only drawback of the London Underground is the existence of too many steps in some stations instead of elevators or escalators. With the weight of my suitcase, four steps seemed too many!
I struggled through and even enjoyed the hour-long train ride south to Kent. Thankfully, there was a taxi kiosk just up the street from the Edenbridge Train Station. My taxi would be a while, so the manager offered to watch my luggage while I go into town to have lunch and walk around to kill time. Edenbridge, like the other little hamlets around Kent, was steeped in traditional Tudor design and charm. Every other building was in the Tudor style with trademark black and white woodwork. I know I looked like a nutter taking photos of random old buildings that the locals totally take for granted every day. I could completely imagine myself there hundreds of years ago - no cars, taxis, skateboarders - walking on cobblestones or even dirt paths.

Pulling up the long drive to Starborough Manor was like a dream. It was all far more lovely than the photos on the Internet. Granted, the gardens were not fully in bloom, but the it was still lush and green just like I imagined. Jonathan Mathias, the proprietor of the B&B, showed me in and carried my heavy suitcase up the three flights to my room. The house was stunningly beautiful. But it was gorgeous in a comfortable way - not like a museum where you'd be afraid to sit or relax. My room was far more charming than it looked online. The views from my windows were so pastoral and idyllic; I couldn't have asked for a more perfect place to experience the English countryside. To the southeast, my window overlooked the backyard and Starborough Castle with it's moat.

And to the north, my bedroom and bathroom windows overlooked the Coach and Stable Houses, garden and adjoining farms.

As long as I live, I will never forget the cooing sounds from the large flight of doves that gathered every day on the roof of the barn in the back of the stables. I loved to look out and see the rose vines climbing up the brick walls of the Couch House. Even on the cloudy, rainy days, I would sit and look out the windows and feel so calm and at peace.
Jonathan offered to book me a taxi for dinner that evening at eight and left me to sleep. I sank easily into the bright white sheets and feather duvet and fell into a deep restful sleep in my beautiful new room.

When I awoke, I had a nice cup of tea in my room and took a shower. This was to be the only disappointment of this leg of my trip: low pressure shower head. Not good. So I resigned myself that I would take baths for the rest of my stay. As Winston Churchill said, "Why stand when you can sit?"
I dressed comfortably and went downstairs to meet my taxi which would take me just up the road to a pub called The Plough. I panicked slightly when we pulled up and I saw groups of good looking people gathered and drinking outside. I kept my head down and went straight in feeling a little shy.
I ate dinner and had a couple of glasses of wine and couldn't help but notice the abundance of really attractive men. Young men, but very cute. They certainly outnumbered the women in the pub. Eventually, one or two of them noticed my accent started talking to me. That was all it took: I stayed at the pub with them til the wee hours.
More on that in the next post. Maybe.

V&A by Night

Many people told me to visit the Victoria & Albert Museum. Okay, one person. But I'd found a few Tudor related things online which I looked forward to seeing at the V&A.

Because they are trying to attract young singles and couples to go to a museum instead of a pub on a Friday night, the V&A has a special promotion with Friday evening hours and cocktails. This would work well with my schedule, I could see Kensington by day and peruse the museum that night.
Upon arrival, I went ahead and purchased tickets to the special exhibits of Hats and the Baroque period only to find that both were of only moderate interest. No matter - there was still the Tudor Wing!
After Hats and before Baroque I went upstairs to find the Tudor exhibit. I was looking at the very first displays in the wing when the VERY RUDE guard came in and informed three of us that the wing was closed. He did so in a way that made it seem like we KNEW it was closed and snuck in... despite the fact that there were no ropes or signs. Until AFTER we were removed. Clearly we had no idea it was closed.
Besides the fact that the Tudor wing was the only reason I really wanted to be there, I was really put off by this guard's attitude! It was really my first unpleasant experience in London. I really hate being treated like a criminal when it's their fault we were in there!
But I stayed. I'd paid for the Baroque exhibit and I was going to see it!
Some of it was interesting, but it was - as to be expected - centered on religious pieces of the period which were all Christian. Like my visit to the British National Gallery, there was really only so many paintings of Christ I could take. Yes, the art is magnificent and beautiful but I needed more variety and more Tudor and less baby Jesus!

I continued to walk around a bit, checking out the courtyard fountains and flowers. The museum itself is very nice. With a little more imagination and an outdoor bar, their Friday night event would be huge!



I was exhausted and my feet hurt, so my indignation was magnified. I did find some interesting casts of funeral effigies in the back and the gift shop was lovely. Insanely overpriced, but lovely. Now I know how they pay for the overly elegant cafeteria. Check this place out: I felt like I should be wearing a ball gown as I stood in line with a plastic tray!

I had had enough and it was time to go. I wish it had been more enjoyable. Time to leave the museum and time to leave London. Some room service, a good night's sleep and I would move on to my next adventure... Anne's home at Hever!

Finding Kensington

By Friday, May 22 I was starting to feel a real time pinch. There were still so many things to see and do in London but I had only one more day to do them. On Saturday I would have to catch a train and find my way to Kent and my second leg of my journey in the English countryside.
I knew I would have to hit two places on Friday, but which two? The two would have to be close together because my feet and ankles would just not be able to handle too much walking. As much as I wanted to see Buckingham Palace and Windsor, I decided they would have to be the casualties of my exhaustion and lack of time. Windsor was just too far away from the center of town and Queen Elizabeth is currently in residence, which would reduce greatly what I could see inside the palaces. Since they were in the same vicinity, I chose to close my stay in London with visits to Kensington Palace and the Victoria and Albert Museum.

I took the tube to Notting Hill and walked around for a long time looking for Kensington Palace. I found the gardens easily enough, but couldn't seem to find my way to the actual Palace. I searched for easily an hour but I would not give up! I'd purchased a pass to all the Historic Royal Palaces online before I left the States, and I'd be damned if I didn't use it as much as possible!!! I backtracked to these huge arches I'd passed a few blocks before the park and walked through. Turns out this street was much like "Embassy Row." Huge, gorgeous mansions stretched along the beautifully landscaped street with little plaques claiming them for their respective countries. At the end of the street, the main entrance to the home of the late Princess Diana, Kensington Palace. Finally!

There is an ongoing exhibit of some of Princess Diana's dresses and details of where and when she wore them. The dresses were in cases and the light kept extremely low so as not to speed the deterioration of the fabrics.

Sadly, that was really the only acknowledgement inside the palace of this being Diana's residence.
The rest of the exhibits referenced mostly the reigns of William & Mary and Queen Victoria. On the flight over, I'd watched a new movie starring Emily Blunt called "The Young Victoria." This prepared me perfectly for what I was seeing when I arrived in her apartments: the bedroom, exactly the way it was, when Victoria was awakened and told she was queen. It was attached, of course, to the rooms of her mother - the Duchess of Kent - who kept her young daughter under her thumb.

Outside, the gardens were just starting to bloom and the day was a mix of sun and clouds. This made for an interesting backdrop for couple of photos of the iconic Victoria statue - taken within a few minutes of each other. An ominous moment:

And moments after:

Although I found the path in the garden dedicated to Princess Diana, I didn't find the memorial fountain because I couldn't continue to walk through the park. I'm fascinated by the fact that the Tudor Rose is so often used in association with Diana. Although I have seen numerous charts connecting her lineage to royal houses like the Stuarts, I have not seen a connection to the tudor Dynasty.

And like so many of the palaces and castles, the ponds and lakes were filled with ducks and swans and the parks full of deer. After The Tudors' season two finale, swans will never look the same to me again. The symbolism and connection to the monarchy will stick in my mind forever.

Courtship (well, barge)

When I started planning my trip to England on my computer I researched a few "Tudor Tours" but all were overpriced and few even returned my emails. I did get a couple of suggestions from friends who have been to or live in England. One such suggestion was to visit Hampton Court Palace by boat.
Thursday morning I made my way right back to where I'd spent the day before: Westminster. This time I stayed on the north side of the Thames and bought a ticket to Hampton Court leaving from Westminster Pier by river barge. I would sail to the palace from London exactly as the Tudor kings and queens had done! Unfortunately, it sounded way more romantic than it actually was.

It turned out to be a decent day - mostly sunny but just a little windy and cool. Lovely for a river cruise - if that cruise was about an hour. Even two hours would be tolerable. Three hours on a barge were a bit much. But I stuck it out, taking random photos of homes and other things along the Thames to occupy my time. The one good thing was the lack of walking for three hours. Whew - I'm looking rough as I sit on that barge!
But it was all worth it when we pulled up beside the magnificent palace that Cardinal Thomas Wolsey built.

After the Tower, this was the place where I knew I would come in direct contact, yet again, with Anne Boleyn and all the places and things I have been reading and dreaming about for three years. Sure enough, the very first thing I encountered reminded me Anne was here:

More surprisingly, though, just inside the palace I was promptly invited to a re-enactment of the wedding of Henry VIII to Kateryn Parr: his sixth and final wife. Just moments later, I came upon the bride and groom greeting people in the dining hall.

And then the newlyweds we presented to us in the great hall just outside the privy chamber.

As goofy as it was (and as bad as Henry's beard was) it was actually kind of fun too. I really enjoyed the talk by two courtiers explaining each piece of their clothing and the type of people they would be at the court. I loved walking through the rooms escorted by a woman dressed in the same clothing she would wear in 1540! History and fashion geek that I am, I LOVED it.
More than "feeling" the souls of Anne or the others as I did at the Tower, Hampton Court bewitched me with it's authenticity and preservation of a 500 year-old, Tudor-era palace. They keep the kitchens just as they were when they would serve up to 1000 guests one meal at court!

A 16th century kitchen prep area...

Although I couldn't take photos inside the chapel royal, I did go in and stand in the Holy Day Closet where Anne worshipped and the obstinate Spanish Ambassador paid her obeisance just before her fall from grace. Knowing this was so intense. There was also a plaque inside that claims although Jane Seymour's body is interred with Henry at Windsor, her heart is rumored to be buried there. (Although I can find no other documentation of this.) It was at Hampton that Jane gave birth to the future King Edward VI and died there shortly after.
Although the white portions of the palace behind me here are clearly additions made well after the Tudor Dynasty and more in the Georgian style, the beautiful gardens and grounds are laid out the way Henry VIII had planned them.

Another of my favorite parts of Hampton: The Astronomical Clock - designed in a time when they believed the Sun moved around the immovable Earth. I love that it was showing the correct date, time and astrological sign!