Dart Date Night

DireMole and I have added another resolution to the start of our year… Dart Date Night! Dire came up with the idea the other week when he kicked my ass (faster than usual) over a game of darts and beers.

Over a year ago when we lived separately, we used to play regularly at a bar across the street from my condo. Most of the time when Fitz came to visit we ended up at that bar for dinner and drinks. I had never played darts before, so he taught me and we had a lot of fun. I ‘m completely unpredictable. When I try for a target,  I typically miss the board. When I don’t try, I hit a bullseye. The more drinks I have, I hit my peak… but there’s a magic number of beers that I just get sloppy. Dire has always been patient with me or maybe he’s humored by my “skills”. Either way, it’s a fun hobby that we used to do.

When I moved in with him, we realized that our favorite dart-bar wasn’t as accessible. So we purchased a dart board, a set of darts, and a protective border for the wall (due to my high miss rate) for our condo. It looks official. But now we hardly ever play.

So to reinstate our hobby and improve our skills,  we plan on having a Dart Date Night once a week. Maybe go pro one day in a team league??? Of course our team name will be Champions of the Human Race. Tonight will be our first Dart Date Night and I’m looking forward to being schooled.

 

We didn’t think she would do it… But she did.

As we were brewing beer and watching the football game, we heard yelling from outside our condo. Our first reaction was to quiet down and try to understand if the yelling was due to a football game or for help. We realized it was time to react because the noises suggested that something was very wrong.

The yelling was coming from outside, so I went outside to our condo’s balcony. I quickly realized that the yelling was coming from a visiting female on our neighbor’s balcony. She was yelling about Jesus and looked panicked. She asked me if I could come over and hug her. I told her I couldn’t make it over… since there was 9ft of space and a 25ft. drop between our balcony’s. Other neighbors were outside trying to assess the situation.

Fitz was right behind me and saw that this chick was out of her mind. Our neighbor always has girls visiting his apartment… and we rarely see the same chick twice. We’ve always been skeptical of his activities, but this is the first time we saw a girl holding the door shut and yelling for Jesus. I tried to talk to her and understand why she was upset. And before the onlookers knew it, she made a bizarre, exorcist-like movement and hauled herself over the railing. Fitz ran out of our condo to alert our womanizing neighbor that the female on his porch was threatening to jump two stories down.  Also, the neighbor above the womanizer’s apartment came running down to alert him that the girl was over the railing. As the two guys confronted our next-door neighbor about the situation that he seemed oblivious of, I continued to monitor the girl. Yep that’s right. Half a dozen people came outside to help this girl, except for the guy who’s apartment she was in… and his other guest.  She was hanging from the railing and quickly loosing her grip. I started yelling “Help, someone help” and other ramblings that came out too fast before I could think. She lost her grip and fell.  During her fall she hit the below neighbor’s balcony and knocked his plants off the ledge. Her fall resembled someone hitting their head on the diving board, except remove the pool of water and replace it with leaf-covered ground. Her body was laid out on the ground like a crime scene victim. I ran to find Fitz and alert him that she was down.0

Fitz came inside our condo and I grabbed the phone to call 911. As I was on the phone, Fitz told me to stay inside and he locked the doors. I stayed by the window to keep an eye on the situation. Then, she got up. Yep, she fell 25ft and started making moves. It was nutty. She had lost a shoe and her pants had slid down exposing her buttocks. She picked up her wig and in a very disoriented fashion made her way to the fence. She miraculously climbed the fence and made it to the sidewalk where she stumbled around. Her pants were still down and she placed her wig on her head while wandering around. I guess putting on the blond wig was more important than covering up the lady-parts. But who am I to judge? It didn’t seem that she realized what happened and the commotion caused by her leap of fate. By this time, the host of the apartment she was previously visiting, proceeded to throw the rest of her belongings over the balcony. Classy. He and a male friend (apparently another neighbor that I had never seen before) abruptly left the scene. They claimed the girl was nuts and  knew nothing about her erratic behavior. As I gave the details to the emergency operator, the fire department arrived. By this time, the girl had climbed over the fence again and was back on the property. It appeared that the firemen had herded her back to her original landing spot. As they questioned her, I gave details to the emergency operator. The ambulance and the cops arrived and shut down the street temporarily. The fire department left and seemed relieved to hand this one over to the paramedics.

I got off the phone and Fitz and I just looked at each other baffled. Like WTF, did that just happen? We were surprised and relieved that the girl was ok. As we debriefed about the situation, one question remained on our minds … what the heck was going on at our neighbor’s place at 5pm on a Sunday that caused this girl to leave from the balcony and not the front door? It was really an upsetting experience.

The cops didn’t stay too long and didn’t seem interested to meet the resident of the condo who just had a girl fall from the balcony. All that remained was the ambulance. We awaited its departure as we resumed our brewing process. But the ambulance didn’t leave… instead, the doors opened and the girl came traipsing out the back. This time she was dressed, wig and all, and used a bed sheet to cover her exposed arms. She and a paramedic were back on the scene with a flash light searching for something… After 30mins of searching for her belongings, the ambulance drove away and left her on the sidewalk with her new bed sheet. Am I the only one who thinks that this is getting even nuttier? Why didn’t they haul her away?

I was worried about her. I didn’t care if she was on drugs or whatever the situation was… she just fell from two stories and wasn’t dressed to be outside on a cold evening. I yelled down and asked her if she was ok. She informed me that she was looking for her phone and couldn’t find it. I asked her if she needed a sweatshirt or a coat, because I was worried about her condition. She wasn’t interested… all she wanted was her phone. She asked me if it was on our neighbor’s balcony. Sure enough,  it was sitting perfectly on the edge. She wanted me to go get it or to get her a ladder so she could retrieve it. I’m not sure why she thought there was a 20 foot ladder lying around or that I could fly over to the balcony… but I did tell her that we would try to contact our neighbor and the two of them could handle it. Though I was concerned that maybe our neighbor was the original threat to her…  I kept asking if she was OK and if I could help her. Meanwhile, the womanizing neighbor was still hiding from the cops and not home. But the rest of the joining-walled neighbors were still outside trying to figure out what the heck was going on. The jumper asked me if I could drive her somewhere. I told her we were working on getting her phone by contacting our neighbor, and that I had been drinking all day (I mean we were brewing) and unable to drive. She was worried that we were calling the cops and not her previous party-host. I reassured her the cops weren’t going to be back due to us. She continued to wander around outside with the bed sheet and I decided to go back inside.

Within a few minutes there was a knock on our door… it was our womanizing neighbor. Yay, he returned! Fitz informed him that his guest was outside, looking for her phone, and that her phone was on his balcony. We left it at that, went back to brewing, cracked open another beer to calm our nerves and to watch the rest of the football game. The last thing I saw was our neighbor driving off in his car.

I don’t understand the entire situation and I’m sure I never will. However,  I know that I will never forget the sight of a person deciding to fall from a balcony. That was some scary shit.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Sometimes I think that I’m just not meant to be in a long-term relationship. I would say there is an equal part of me that  fantasizes about this happy, obnoxious relationship. The other part of me that fantasizes about being a  hybrid professional female bad-ass/world explorer that seeks an internal nirvana while putting relationships in their time/place within my journeys.

I like protecting myself from being under someone’s control. When I start feeling like my control is threatened, I push back. I try to question why I feel the way that I feel and consider if this is a temporary issue or apart of a bigger problem.

Over the weekend I realized that Fitz and I have a bigger problem. From what I can access, it’s not something that will go away. We handle things fundamentally differently and the way he goes about his friendships stresses me out. I tried to stay patient and hide  my feelings. But all that did was cause me to not eat, excessively drink, not sleep, and become depressed. Something that is so simple for him wrecks havoc on my well-being. It’s not intentional on his part and it’s not fair for either of us. I don’t want to deny him his simple pleasures. But I can’t emotionally and physically handle it.  I have become angry and resentful. Which makes me feel awful because I don’t want to be like that…

I want to run away from this relationship, this small-minded city, and my stupid job. Get things back into control. Live my life and stop holding off  my goals until he accomplishes his. I wrote down my 3 issues on a sheet of paper and carry them with me as a reminder to reconsider, to reassess, to over-analyze… and at the bottom I posed the question, Where do we go from here? What’s next?

I just don’t know and I don’t think I should be the only one solving the question.

‘Tis the Season for Pumpkin Butts

For whatever reason, I was in the mood to share this  today. While in Portland, Maine, we visited the Coastal Maine Botanical Garden and saw the best pumpkin ever, pictured below.

Pumpkin Butts

Pumpkin Butt

As if it were planned, Dire and I simultaneously pointed and said “HA HA, That looks like a butt. Eh, Pumpkin Butt.” If I were to reenact our pointing and immaturity, it would look be more like this, but with a pumpkin butt included.

 

Brew Tour

DireMole and I just got back  from our long-weekend trip to Maine. 10492190_10101756839676331_7290277499303858535_nAnd no vacation is complete without a visit to a brewery to sip on the local culture. In case you didn’t know, Maine is ranked 5th in the nation for the amount of craft breweries per capita. In addition, Portland usually ends in the top 10 list for foodie destinations. So there is much to consume, sip on, and enjoy.

We had a great time exploring all the tasty brews. Our favorite tastings came from Foundation Brewing Company, Maine Beer Company, and Oxbow. And we really enjoyed visiting Lost Bear pub to try beers that we weren’t planning to visit the brewers while munching on their bar food. 1781984_10101756803064701_491882464572533889_nWe stumbled upon Rising Tide Brewery while they were having a special pour of their Wet Hop Harvest Ale. They made two batches of their Wet ale. One with hops from Maine, and the other with hops from Oregon. We did a “horizontal” and taste tested both. Our favorite was definitely the Oregon-hoped ale.

When we weren’t sampling beer we managed to take a few day trips to explore the sites. Generally, the people seemed very friendly and talkative. I kinda feel like I could move here if it wasn’t for the crappy winter… Side note,  I was happy to see that we were in Subaru-country… since that is the brand that I hope to buy in the near future. It was like car shopping on every street. So, anyway, we went north and visited Booth Bay for breakfast and then visited the Coastal Maine Botanical Garden. It was fantastic! 1505652_10101756777705521_4788633823846240285_nThe Botanical Garden included a therapeutic garden, a fairy forest, sculptures, a zen garden, and plants native to coastal Maine.1904056_10101756810345111_6780881993281835229_nAnother day-trip excursion was to head south to Cape Elizabeth and South Portland. We stopped at a local diner and  proceeded to gorge  on blueberry stuffed french toast. It was filling and awesome. To make up for our over indulgence, we hiked around the lighthouses scattered along Cape Elizabeth. 1891108_10101756827001731_7868058768575751864_nIt was a beautiful day and the views were picturesque. It was so nice to take a break from our normal day-to-day routine to visit this port city. Sometimes I just imagine or pretend I’m a local  at the places we visit. 1010121_10101756764746491_8443530131785152403_nLast weekend wasn’t an exception. The purpose of the trip was to get a taste of fall in New England, catch up with family, and share another travel experience together. And I would say we accomplished that. It was great! And our suitcases were weighed down with tasty imports from Maine.

 

One Percent At A Time

I need to admit that I misunderstood DireMole. When he said 1% of his lifetime, he ACTUALLY meant we have only completed 1% of our lifetime together… so, whats the rush when you know you will be with this person forever? Ehhh. Epic Fail. I get it now…

Dire shared with me that he understands that I would be making a lot of sacrifices to follow him to _________. It was reassuring to hear him say that. This year will be stressful for both of us, in different ways. I’m trying to keep my mind busy with what’s at hand and in the moment. Running is one of those things that helps me to keep my mind calm and preoccupied. Whether it’s my mind or running, I need to remember to keep moving one foot in front of the other and it will get easier.

With that being said, we figured out our miscommunication and are back on track. DireMole completes me and I’m looking forward to building 1% to 100% together. We got each other and we will get through this, 1% at a time.

1% of My Life

Do you know what 1% of your life looks like? Seems like a pretty ridiculous thought, and when I try to characterize what that looks like in my life, I immediately think of  some favorite moments…swimming a championship race, traveling to India, hiking to the top of a mountain and admiring the scenery, embracing a loved one, acting like an immature idiot in college… one thought leads to another, but they all tend to be positive.

How can you qualify 1% of your life, when you haven’t finished  living?

Well, the point of this post is that DireMole told me this weekend that he wasn’t ready to commit to our relationship because I have only been in his life for 1% of his existence. Based in that short period, he isn’t able to consider us together for a lifetime.

I’ve struggled with his comment because I don’t feel the same way. With the pending departure that he may get a job in another state by next year, then what is to become of us? of him? of me? of PirateGoat? He wants me to come with him. But I can’t drop my life, my job, my friends to move to ________ with someone who really can’t commit to our relationship. That pretty much sums it up. Seems one-sided, don’t you think?

1% isn’t much. If that’s all I’m considered, I would like to think that in that sliver of 1%  it includes a few favorite moments of our lifetimes.

DireMole is Not a Drug Dealer

I have led my coworkers to believe that my boyfriend, DireMole, earns a respectable living as a drug dealer. He may or may not have tats and look like a thug.  I let their imagination run wild when strange colleagues ask about my personal life. Flickr-Thug-Life-Alberto_Montoya

So, how did this come about? Well, one noisy individual inquired where I live… as if it affected him in someway. Once I told him, he said that I live in the hood. The majority of my colleagues live in suburbia and think anything in the city is the hood. You know the type… The- “oh my gosh, I just saw a homeless black person pushing around a shopping cart! Turn around, I’m not comfortable in this area… Lock the doors and roll up the windows…don’t make eye contact OR they will ask us for change!– type”. I’m rolling my eyes as he starts bantering me with his opinion on my “ghetto” community.

Eventually he asks me why I live there…AND, the skin color of my boyfriend…. Once those two questions fell out of his mouth, he was doomed. He insulted me on my living choices and expected me to share more personal information with him… Ha! Please, pass this little number around the water cooler douche-bag. Time for me to play!! I proceed with a long diatribe about how my boyfriend asked me to move in with him since he owned the streets in his part of town. I previously lived in a more- ghetto area than DireMole and there was a series of gang-related shootings outside  my apartment. Knowing that DireMole was risking his life to visit me (since he was invading another territory) we decided it would be safer for our well-being for me to move to his crib. Which I did…because he owns the streets and we could live happily ever after with JalapenoRubes and her Somalian pirate army as our security guards. (I left out the part about our dog and the Somalian pirates because that would have made it less-believable and truthfully I didn’t think about it at the time.)

I told my story with a straight face and made it believable. Shrugged it off and acted like it was just a typical thing. Now, the douche bag leaves me alone, but occasionally asks me if I know anything about the recent crime reported  in my area.

This example is similar to visiting Starbucks, they ask your name, and you can make up a name just for shits-and-giggles. Ha! I like to tell strangers my name is Violet when they ask. DireMole tells people his name is Fitz. It amuses us temporarily and it really doesn’t matter to them.