Paula Tracey
A Tarnished Southern Belle

It took a long time, but after trying to make things work out with “The Boy”, I finally realized that the issue of our relationship wasn’t me. It was him. (yes, I know it takes two.  I know it isn’t all him.  But I finally realized that it wasn’t all ME.)

It’s funny how we get things ingrained in our minds. For my entire marriage, nothing I ever did was good enough for my husband and after almost four years of a quasi-relationship with a man I did do love, I had determined that I wanted – no needed – more than the relationship was giving me. Though my friends advised me, I accepted his request to visit. I did my best to make it clear to him that this was a “last chance” to see if it could work.  And I admit that he DID try.  He was on time, he had a cold bottle of water waiting for me, he said “thank you” at the appropriate times.  But he also didn’t recognize the sacrifices I made to be there.   thought I was clear - very clear - about what I both needed and wanted - he seemed to forget much of it.   It’s good that I went, though.  It didn’t give me closure so to speak, but it did help me with the perspective.

Contrast that with this morning.

I am in Connecticut visiting NYG.  He is more than gracious and both shows me and tells me that he appreciates me.  Almost the first words out of his mouth this morning are “you look beautiful this morning”.  I am sitting on his couch with the golden autumn outside the patio door as he sleeps a little more.  The walls are covered with art - mostly photos he has taken.  He has made me feel welcome - and at home.

I have no clue where this is going to go at all, but it’s comfortable in many ways.  And that’s a very good thing for me.

I am still pretty blocked up in a lot of ways.  I try to write but the words just don’t flow like they used to.  But I feel them beginning to loosen up.   I am breathing…nice and cleansing breaths that go down to my stomach instead of the shallow throat breathing I was doing a couple of weeks ago.  I think that’s more the relief of phase one of the work stuff being completed and a bit of a break before phase two begins.

I think that’s it for now.  I’m going to fix a fresh cup of coffee and go out on the patio and feel the cold air and smell autumn.

Edited by the light of day 09/10/08 …much too morose, so please forgive me.  I had promised myself that I would speak my mind if I was going to blog and I have been.  I need to remember that sometimes, diarrhea of the mouth/hands/keyboard isn’t always the best way to attract or keep readers.  I hope my friends, however, will totally understand I’m just a little…..blue this week….

Original post is not deleted, it is, however, tucked away so that you will have to CLICK if you want some Wine.  Sorry, but the cheese plate is sold out today.  Promise to pick up more cheese soon….

Love,

Paula

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This has been, basically, a brutal week that followed a week from hell.  After waking up with a shooting - nauseating - pain in my shoulder, I broke down and scheduled a massage.  VERY fortunately, the hotel provides a service that comes TO the hotel - so you are in your own space.  I’ve never done it before and it was a bit more expensive than going somewhere, but most places close early in the day - this was scheduled for 6:30!

When I got back to the hotel, though, I remembered that there was a Farmer’s Market.  It’s called the Penn Quarter FreshFarm Market and it’s every Thursday from 3 PM to 7 PM - just right for all those folks coming in from work.  I got dinner there.  I bought a tomato and some peaches.  The Bread Ovens at Quail Creek Farm was there and I got a piece of quiche for dinner, a molasses cookie for dessert, and some zucchini bread for breakfast tomorrow.

I also bought some cheese.  There were several dairy places there - but one had only half-pounds of cheese (way too much).  Another, Chappel’s Country Creamery, sold cheese by the ounce!  Now, THAT was what I needed.  I bought an ounce of Garlic Chive Cheddar and an ounce of Cave Aged Cheddar.  That was my after-massage snack:  cheese with some french bread from room service.

I am not so fond of Goat cheese, of which they had none, but they did have Sheep cheese, which I’ve been told is similar to Goat cheese in strength.  Thing is, the Sheep Cheese lady was stuck-up - like her stinky cheese was stinkier and better than anything else there.  On attitude alone, I wouldn’t buy Sheep Cheese.

the Cow Cheese People were all very nice.   Not at all like the Sheep people.  Oh, by the way, the “Free Range Pork” people were really nice, too, even though I didn’t buy anything there, just said hello.  Maybe pigs and cows are happy animals and fun to be around.  though…how happy can the pigs be?  Hmmm….

My massage was much needed and I loved the therapist.  He told me I was one solid mass of tightness.  But he also told me I had an amazing aura…

Time for bed.  Sweet Dreams.

I am leaving DC tomorrow to go back home to Dallas - at least for the weekend.   From the outside, I am sure that I seem like a spoiled brat.

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Since I was in the feeling nothing mode, I decided I really needed to get out of the hotel. I had planned to go to the Cemetery, but first wanted to get flowers, but then I got distracted - or, well, my Muse distracted me.

Actually, I typically get flowers at CostCo when I am going ot go to the Cemetary because (a) they are inexpensive and (b) they are usually lovely.  But being a holiday, CostCo is closed.  And, CVS didn’t have any.  As I walked of CVS, which is a block behind my hotel, I realized that the National Archives (and the Metro Stop) were just as close as the Metro Stop on the other side of the hotel.

Only 4 blocks away is the Navy Memorial and another block over is the National Archives.  I was going to go on through to the Metro, but as I passed, I realized that the Navy Band was setting up for a concert there at the Navy Memorial.  I paused…explored a bit…took photos for a group of tourists….

The Navy Memorial is a large fountain with bronze plaques around it depicting different scenes from Navy Life.  I stood a moment to take it all in and realized that something was off:  the smell.  It was the fresh scent of chlorine and while I understand the need for the chlorine, it seems like the Navy Memorial should smell like Salt Water….

I knew that my muse was speaking to me.  I could feel him around me and took my time walking through the memorial and then I crossed teh street to enter the National Archives.  It has been way too long - six months or more - since I have visited the Rotunda and the documents that are there:  Magna Carta, Bill of Rights, Constituion and The Declaration of Independence…  I also spent some time walking through the exhibit about the National Archives - and what it contains….and ended at the gift shop, where I got a headstart on my Christmas Shopping.

I never made it to the Cemetary, but that’s ok as I know my muse understands - he’s the one that led me to the Navy Memorial instead.  I need to remember to listen to him more often.

Sweet Dreams.

My hotel room is evidence of my thoughts being scattered a bit this week.  The pinstripe jacket to the suit from yesterday is resting on the back of the desk chair and the suit I wore today is carelessly tossed across the back of the easy chair next to my bed.  My bra is hanging on the door to the armoire.   There is one pair of shoes by the door and another pair of shoes by the window.  I am in disarray.

I am also incredibly tired, but because the day was much too intense and busy, I am exhausted but not sleepy.   I had one of those days, days where an eighteen-hour bra would have failed.  I was up at 5:30, out of the hotel by 7:15 AM and not back until after 7 PM.  Starved, I finally had dinner about 8 PM.  As far as the not sleepy part, in the past, I would have turned to a glass of wine (or two) to get me buzzed enough to be sleepy, but in all honesty, I have no desire to wake with a wine headache and I do have another full day tomorrow.

At dinner, though, I did have a cocktail.  A perfectly blended, perfectly chilled oh-please-may-I-savor-you White Knight: “Vodka, Cointreau, White Cranberries and crushed Limes together to form a more perfect union”.  I wanted a second because it was just so incredibly yummy, but was afraid I’d fall asleep at the table.

I want to remember that tonight I talked to Scout, who is an old-flame/client of sorts who, after more than a year of not “seeing each other in that way” had sent me a text the other night telling me he’d like to see me because he misses me.  We had dinner a several months back (June?) and we talked.  I think what he misses is talking to me because in so many ways, I am non-judgmental.   Not quote sure about this, but I can guarantee you that it will not end with what he may hope. I am more than willing to have dinner with him, but he needs to understand that it doesn’t go beyond the hotel lobby.

I also talked to The Major this afternoon.  I have forgotten how to date.  We are working on dinner tomorrow night so that we can see each other before I go back home.

I really must turn off the lights.  Please forgive the rambles as it is where I am tonight with my scattered thoughts when I should be sleeping.

I’m at the same hotel I’ve stayed at the last couple of times in DC.  I love it here.  The location is perfect - in the heart of DC so that there are lots of great places to as well as a safe neighborhood to walk around in after work.  It doesn’t hurt that the National Portrait Gallery is across the street for a quick wander through.

I love the funky decor.  It has an arty feel and a true personality - whereas most hotels are on the sterile side.  In all honesty, the move here has helped me grow back to having a creative side again.  The true straw that pushes me here again, though, is the people.  This staff is just amazing.

When I checked in last night, they gave me a different room, which panicked me a bit.  Once I unpacked, though, I was good.  Yes, I unpack in a hotel.  Everything has to be put in it’s place and suitcases hidden away.  The staff pampered me, though, until my panic left.  I feel like such a baby when I am in a bit of a panic mode.  My ability to travel like I do truly is the result of solid routines.  I wonder, though, if some of my routines (and habits) have become OCD tendencies?

Last night, I ordered a glass of wine before bedtime and when room service arrived he smiled and said “no dessert tonight?”.  Busted.  Yep, about three nights a week, I order a latte and a dessert.   They have an amazing restaurant and yummy desserts.  I had actually planned on dessert last night, but since someone had brought me a couple of chocolate chip cookies, I didn’t need Olive Oil Cake or Pot de Creme.

It made me wonder, though, if I am too predictable or if my routines of comfort are entirely too predictable.  Here i sit this morning with the Washington Post spread on the bed next to me (my daily request) sipping on a cup of coffee (another morning routine - a pot of coffee from room service) and nibble a piece of wheat toast.  When the morning guy realized it was me in this other room, by the way, he came back with the toast (I only ordered coffee this morning) cause he said I needed it this morning.  He was right by the way, I did need the toast.

I appreciate they indulge me and pamper me, even if I am too predictable.

Gotta go hop in the shower.  Maybe later I can write about something a little more profound than my travel habits.

It’s almost Monday.

Tomorrow, I head back to DC for the week.  I enjoy being home in some ways, but in others, I don’t.  I am incredibly frustrated with the oldest kid, who has no concept of others’ needs. It’s close to midnight and she is doing laundry.  The ability for me to fall asleep with the washer running is low.  She is also loud, too loud, and when I ask her to be quiet, it doesn’t help much.   School starts tomorrow, and for that I’m glad, but I still don’t think it will affect her inconsideration. I also don’t tend to write well here at home - except in the early mornings.

When it comes back to sleep, though, I sleep better in a hotel these days.  I slept OK at The Boy’s house last night - at least until around 4:30 when I woke up the first time (since it was 7:30 Eastern.)  But home? It’s rare to get a good nights sleep….

Next Monday, I am going to begin to participate in a writer’s group.  I think I need the structure to get me disciplined to writing again - more than just in the blog.  I’m hoping having that accountability will help me get into a routine.

Come Monday….

My afternoon lounging space.  Sunny outside, shady in spaces.  80’s.  Me, my laptop, and a glass of wine….

The courtyard of my hotel on this lovely Saturday afternoon.

I am leaving on a Jet plane in less than 12 hours, but I can’t say my bags are packed.  I am so not in the mood to do what I need to do (pack).  I’d love to just sit with a cup of coffee, and CHILL.  I’ve been here for 17 nights now, though it hasn’t seemed like that long, since “The Boy” came in the first weekend and Kid and her boyfriend came in last weekend.  The evidence of my dirty clothes that are in a pile / bag (no, I never made it to the laundry).

I still need to deal with all this luggage, and figure out what I am going to keep here (and I guess take to the office until I return next week since I will be in a different hotel). (screw it, maybe I will take a bag to the hotel I am going to next Tuesday and leave it there?)

I did get my upgrade for the flight home, though.  That is a very good thing because after the week I’ve had, I would really love nothing more than to just SIT and RELAX and get a glass of wine and then a nice cup of coffee.  Spoiled, I know.

The weekend is pretty jammed packed with things to do.  Doctors appointments, hair appointments for the kids, hair appointment for me….

My 15 minutes of writing just isn’t going to happen.  I need to be in a meeting downtown no later than 9:30, go to the office, and my flight is at 4:30.  The guilt of my stuff all over this room is going to keep me from focusing…..