A Letter to Santa

I despise Christmas. I hate how busy stores, parking lots, and roads in general are. I hate how crappy people act because they are stressed and hurried. I hate how people think doing good one month a year will totally redeem them for being complete douche bags the previous 11 months. FYI, food pantries and homeless people need things year round. Just sayin'. Christmas carols make me physically ill. Last time I decorated for the holidays, I gave myself a killer migraine. And I especially hate buying gifts, wrapping them, and then driving all over God's green earth to deliver them.  <steps down from bitter soap box>

December is an especially hard month for me since I was widowed 2.5 years ago. December has so many bitter sweet memories for me; sweet because they were incredible experiences, and bitter because I no longer have them. December 13th, 2003 was the first time Kane said, "I love you!" to me. We were sitting in my car, I had just given him $1,800 for a down payment on a vehicle, and my first thought after he said it was "I'd love someone, too, if they just gave me $1,800!"  That was my inside voice of course. My outside voice answered with "I love you, too!" The first man to ever buy me jewelry (Kane) was on our first Christmas together. A beautiful diamond necklace he spent a lot of money on. Kane showed me just how wonderful the holidays could be. It was about friends, family, celebrating the birth of Jesus, and spreading hope and cheer. His passion for Christmas kinda wore off on me. Of course, after he died, all bets were off and I find myself hating this time of year again.

One of my fav pics of Kane and I. Our last Christmas together. 

Can you see the love in his eyes? Photographer: Tim Campbell

Kane's favorite holiday above all, bar none, was Christmas. He made such a big deal out of it, and he went all out. Our 12 ft, pre-light tree was the center of our festivities. Complete with beautiful crystal ornaments courtesy of my mom, as well as the picture ornament of Kane and I, and our friends, at our wedding reception giving the PSC salute, also courtesy of mom. The pre-lit garland so strategically wrapped around the banister of our stairs, leaving little room for surface space, annoyed the hell out of me any time I had to go up or down the stairs ...  which was several times a day. God help you if you had your hands full and both dogs and all three cats decided to see who could beat mommy up the stairs first. But I knew it made Kane happy to have the halls decked, so I refrained from complaining ... a lot ... ok, so maybe like once a week, I casually mentioned something... FINE! It was every time I went up or down the stairs, bitching and moaning about the "stupid, fucking garland" and how it hindered my safe trip up and/or down the stairs.

I remember when our cat, Shithead - yea, our cat was named Shithead - discovered the Christmas tree was a mecca for trouble, fun, and all around ruckus causing. We lost several bulb ornaments over the years, because, well, they were shiny, they rolled, and unfortunately when they hit the ceramic tile floor, they shattered into a million pieces thus rendering them no longer fun and another one not broken was required to continue kitty happy time. The bows on presents were removed in seconds, usually strung around the house, or left in the litter box. And forget about any type of ribbon on presents. It was chewed on until it became a hard, crusty, cat slobber infused wad of red and green, requiring re-application of new ribbon because yuck!. And the 12 foot tree made for ample hiding, sneak attacks, and general climbing. I don't know how many times Kane had to dig around in the tree to get a stuck - and crying - Shithead out of the middle of it.
 
Kane and I had our traditions for Christmas. Visit family, see friends, try to one up each other in the gift department, and enjoy each other's company. Now, as for gifts go, keeping things from him was near impossible. If he didn't guilt me into telling him his present, con me into letting him have just one present 3 weeks early, or pick up on my "pulling of a Nikki" and letting the surprise slip, he would unwrap presents, and re-wrap them before I got home. If for some reason he wasn't able to return the wrapping to its original format, he'd claim the cat got into the presents and "tore them up, on the side". Right! I'm waving the bull shit flag on that one! And that was when I started using plain white boxes to wrap things in. Even if he did tear open the corner to sneak a peak, a plain white box would make his efforts futile.

Its impossible for me to do anything holiday related without being reminded of Kane, our life together, and what I no longer have. Do you see now why I despise Christmas? I have been good about just treating it like any other month, changing the channel if something Christmas comes on, and avoiding malls and chain stores, etc. And seriously, why is Christmas the perfect time to propose to your girlfriend? I really don't need to hear radio ads about it!

Of course, I can't help but sort of get in the Christmas spirit. I mean, its all around me. I'm singing in the church choir, for Pete's Sakes! I'm trying to stay positive in my actions, and I try to leave out the word 'fucking' when I tell people Merry Christmas. I also decided to write a letter to Santa. Yes, I realize *spoiler alert* he isn't real, and yea I know I'm a bit old to be turning to Santa in my time of need, but really people? I'm disparate, and any avenue I can take to get my Christmas wishes sent to the universe for immediate answer I'm gonna take advantage of! Oh, and I will be delivering said letter to Santa via Macy's this weekend. It reads:

Dear Santa-

I realize you are busy. And yea, I know I'm a bit old to be writing you a letter for a Christmas wish. But, I figured, what the hell, right? Its all about intentions, and this is one intention I have faith will come to fruition. Besides, this one will cost you 0 dollars - PRICELESS! - and I even laid out all the details below of my wish to make it that much easier on you. You're welcome.

A little background for you before I lay out my wish for this year - and every year after that until my wish is granted. I'm resilient, and I have no qualms about bugging you, over and over and over. Just sayin'. I was married to the most wonderful man (who by the way LOVED! Christmas). After 4 1/2 years of wedded bliss, he suddenly died. I was 27, and in the hospital recovering from life changing surgery, discharged early so I could make his funeral arrangements ... on my birthday. The last 2 1/2 years have really sucked. I lost almost everything I had, people I knew for years totally deserted me, and I suddenly found myself without the one thing I relied on every day, my wonderful husband. I'll spare you the emotional, mental and physical horrors of widowhood.

So now you will understand why I'm asking you for this Christmas wish. My wish is as follows: I want a wonderful, Mr. Perfect-for-Me man who will be my wonderful boyfriend, which will turn into my wonderful husband, and we will live happily ever after. And yea, I totally believe in fairy tales, I'm writing you a letter, aren't I? I've been really lonely since he died. Yet, through no lack of trying on my part, the pool of men I have found are so not worth my time. Goobers and douche bags come to mind. Not nice, I know, but its the truth. To help you out with the fulfilling of my Christmas wish, I've included a list of qualifications, in no particular order, for the man of my dreams:

*Someone who I am physically, emotionally, and spiritually attracted to
*Taller then me when I wear my highest heals (I like looking up to my man, not down at him. Plus, nothing is more romantic then a man who kisses you on the forehead when you are lost in his arms)
*A man in uniform (military and/or police to be exact. Sending me a FexEx driver, or a fast food worker - who true, those professions also require a uniform - would be neither funny nor appreciated)
* Someone who will treat me just as good as - if not better than – my late husband did. (i.e. actually calls/texts/emails me, is respectful to me, loves to hold my hand, put his arms around me, and hug/kiss me in public, says he loves me and means it, thinks I am the most beautiful woman on earth - and tells me so, and means it when he does-, is proud to call me his girlfriend/wife, worships the ground I walk on ... you get my drift)
*A kind soul, with an even temperament, who respects others, and is kind to animals (no puppy kickers here please, and we all know I have enough spit & fire for the both of us - Naughty list, 2002, remember? I'll work on staying off that list)
*A genuine person, who is honest, trustworthy, and people (i.e. my friends and family) adore him
*A man who has never been, nor ever will be, a resident of mamby-pamby land
*A thoughtful man, who showers me with love, affection, and of course, gifts (including, but not limited to, Prada bags, flowers, and jewelry)
*He loves his job, makes good money, and his work schedule allows for us to spend quality (and quantity) time together
*Someone who I can always count on, that will take care of me
*A man who makes me laugh, and loves & appreciates my odd sense of humor
*A non-jealous person who is not angered when other men check me out, talk to me, etc. (sorry, I can't help the fact that I have a lot of guy friends, and that I'm a hottie. He should just accept it.)
*His friends and family adore me (with little to no effort on my part. Take me as I am kinda thing)
*Not afraid to tell me what's in his heart, what he's thinking, and includes me in big decision making
*A man who I can confide in, bare my soul to, without fear of judgment (and vice versa)
*He must accept me for me (both my positive qualities and my shortcomings)
*Someone who will make me happy, and that I will make happy
*He must *ahem* be well endowed and good in bed (I know, I know, I'm crusin' for the naughty list again)
*This or something better

So, in a nut shell, what I am asking for is a clone of my late husband with the addition of the man in uniform (military and/or police) part. I have standards you know, and couldn't possibly settle for less then I have already had!

Thank you, Santa, for your assistance in this matter. May you have a successful season, and a restful new year.

Best regards,

Nikki

So even if this letter doesn't make it to Santa's inbox, I'm sure whoever's in charge of reading these letters will get a big kick out of it. And as they read it, it sends positive vibes to the universe for me. One more person reading my wishes = power in numbers, people!

Will My Mind Please STFU???

This week has been hell!!! My body is all outta whack due to the germ factory I'm forced to be in during the day (in very tight quarters, I might add). My job, LOVE! it, but after fighting with Access 2007 all week (HATE! it), I had to get a new laptop. (It fixed the issue. Consistency much? Pound sand, Mr. Gates!). I've been running myself ragged with social commitments, and my sleep has seriously suffered because of it (how do you get rid of bags under your eyes?). I am once again sans hot water (3 days & counting) due to the slum lord who owns the unit below me's refusal to pull her head out of her ass and, here's an idea, be a landlord. And to top it all off, I took a chance (which I regret), said some stupid things (which I regret even more), and my mind has been in a non-stop, all-out, no-mercy-here-people, will you please just SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY debate, full of coulda, shoulda, woulda's, why did I's, and tears. Let's not forget the tears. Lots and lots of tears. My faith has been tested, and yea, EPIC FAIL, my eyes have not been dry once while driving my car (super fun in rush hour traffic ... both ways <rolls eyes>), and all for nothing. I am no better off since my last blog post (opening my heart to the world - which I may close again). This.Is.Bull.Shit. Infinite faith is not enough, and even Yoda himself couldn't Jedi Mind Trick me into thinking these aren't the droids I'm looking for. The force is soooo not with me! *sigh

My week from hell started Monday night. I was up late Sunday night getting things done because I decided fucking off & doing the TTF run with the Z club on Saturday (and rushing my dog to the vet that night) was wayy more fun then actually getting things done. Don't get me wrong, I had a BLAST! (except for the vet part), but my 2 weeks worth of laundry was not so much. My work day was such a case of the Mondays, so I was really looking forward to the soup cook-off at my gramma's church that night.

As the church ladies and I sat there gabbing before the mass consumption of crock pot noms commenced, I let it slip "my late husband" in passing conversation. The look this woman gave me was classic; the same reaction I always get when people hear me say that. You know, like I'm contagious (don't worry your time will come, sweetheart - its called life), or something to be pitied like a homeless puppy (keep your pity, I don't need it). My night was over before it even started.

Fast forward an hour: The pastor's wife got on the microphone and had 4 people stand up and say what they were thankful for. Yea, each lady went on, and fucking on, about their wonderful husband, I love him so much, he's wonderful, I'm so glad he's in my life, bla bla bla. There I am, an hour passed my bed time, running off 4 hours sleep, trying to decompress from a hellacious Monday, stomach not happy with me due to all the soup I ate, and I could feel it. I was going to lose it. Right there at the table. In front of everyone. Commencing melt down in 3 ... 2 ... 1... I jumped up, ran into the bathroom and cried my eyes out. Gut wrenching sobs that have not come out of me in months, tears flowing like Niagara fucking Falls. Next thing I knew, there were 3 ladies in the bathroom calling my name. Hugs all around, telling me how sorry they were, to let it out, and that they weren't going to leave me. In 10 minutes, the meltdown subsided, and I was able to drive home. And here I was, thinking I was strong. Pfft!

Enter Thursday. In expanding my social circle, I took a chance and hug out with a group of people around my age I had met through mutual acquaintances. Here I was the oldest in the group, (not an issue) and the only one single (big issue). Seriously? Who the fuck gets married/engaged when they are 20??? The engagement rings flashing their sparkly bling, the hand holding, the cute pet names flying. It hurt. I cried all the way home. It wasn't fair. What do they have that I don't? I don't think I will be hanging out with them anymore. I left in a hurry and cried all the way home. Asking God why? Cursing Kane for leaving me. Running through my mind how much I have accomplished, yet why do I still feel like I haven't moved an inch. Trying to find answers as to what's wrong with me, what am I supposed to be learning that I'm not, and praying for guidance, comfort, and serenity. Oh, to the happy couples, my bad. Congratu-fucking-lations!   

Enter yesterday. I'm out on break. That's "me" time. If I want to talk, I will. If I want to veg, de-stress, dream, or think about the stupid database I have to reverse engineer and can't get working, I'll do that. I'm not out there for social hour. I don't come out there to hear you go on an on about your wife, how you proposed to her, how you call her cute pet names, and how happy the last 30 years of marriage have been. My 15 minute break ='d 5 minute smoke & 10 minutes in the ladies room silently sobbing.

I'm very observant. I notice things. Is everyone but me married, engaged, have a boyfriend, or in a relationship??? If I see another couple holding hands, I'm gonna puke. If I hear one more commercial about Christmas proposals I'm going to scream. If I'm forced to listen to one more story about being married I'm going to go postal. Naw, I won't. Its not in my nature. I don't like being angry; its not who the new me is. I worked so hard to release my anger, I'm not about to let it come back. But, seriously? Why do I have to suffer? Wasn't taking my husband suffering enough? The only things I have are: my Happy Thoughts, and faith that some day soon they will come true. My knight in shining armor will not turn out to be a retard in tin foil, I will be the girl flashing her fancy engagement ring in every one's face & holding a FB count down for "T - n days & counting 'till my wedding', I will be the one telling my single/widowed friends "it will happen again, look at me". 

So I leave you with this: My Happy Thought to the universe for Mr. Perfect-For-Me:

"Thank you that the perfect man for me is in my life now. You know my qualifications, don't make me repeat them. And, for the love of Pete Sake's and everything holy, make it snappy will ya?!?!?

Namaste"     

Stepping Wayyyyy Out of My Comfort Zone (and dare I say enjoying?) the Single Life

Its been 2 years, 4 months, 3 weeks and 6 days since I lost the love of my life, my soul mate, my wonderful husband. In the blink of an eye, I was thrown into something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy (and I know some pretty shitty people). Forced to make changes, and do things alone when I had always relied on someone. Suddenly single after 5 1/2 wonderful years of pure bliss. My Friday & Saturday nights which were once booked solid for the rest of my life were now completely open. No company to dinner and coffee, no movie partner to hold hands with, or someone to say "Good morning, Sunshine" to me every morning. Conversations I had once enjoyed, and even not talking at all and knowing what the other was thinking are gone. And not to mention the witty one liners and funny stuff I would say or hear. I mean who's going to instantly get my reference and laugh when I say "Smell baaaaad!" Or "Beer, goooood!! Napster, baaaaaaddddd!" *sigh

Some insensitive people have told me, "but you're free to do whatever you want now. No one to answer to, or compromise with." Seriously? First off, you can pound sand for even thinking - let alone saying - something like that to a widow because you are a twit!; and 2nd, I didn't have to do those things when I was married. In addition to not having to do those things, I had someone by my side 24/7! Yea, I think I would take the married life over being single any day. Asshats!

Looking back over my widowhood journey, I've really grown, err, I should say grown up. For the last 2 years I've chased what I thought would make me happy. People, relationships, activities, etc. I knew these things would be my saving grace if I could just harness them and make them work. All I needed was to be around people, or be married again, or do something which could get me out of my misery, and then everything would be fine. Yet crappy people after crappy people, disaster after disaster, douche bag after douche bag, heartbreak after heartbreak, changing who I was to appease others, leaving me more empty inside then when I started, I needed a new strategy for happiness. "Strage-da-dy, na na na na na na na na, Strage-da-dy ..." See, I'm 100% certain only 2 people know what that means; one of them is dead, the other one just typed it. *double sigh

For the last almost 2 months, I've put my new stradgedady, *ahem, strategy for finding happiness into place. And let me tell you, it's actually worked! Fucking W0ot! The first thing I did was step out of my comfort zone. I'm very much a creature of habit. I LOVE! traditions, routines, etc. If my routine is thrown off - even if its because of something fun - my mind, body, and overall well being, are thrown into utter chaos. It sux. So you can imagine my - at first, resistance to - taking of the first step out of my little box that I call Nikki World, then my absolute delight in finding out doing so actually works towards accomplishing my goal of happiness. All it takes is one step, and suddenly your feet just keep on going.

So, for the last few months, I have been busier than a one legged man in a butt kicking contest doing the following:

1.) Taught myself how to cook. You know pots, pans, knives, and actually buying stuff not in the freezer or cookie isle (or as they say in my 'hood, alimentos congelados o galletas). My creations have included roasted shrimp & orzo salad, stroganoff, chicken picata, roman chicken, Salade Niçoise, and my favorite, roasted potatoes with garlic and rosemary
2.) I am learning how to sew
3.) I know how to iron
4.) I planted flowers. SIDENOTE: I have planted flowers before, but my issue was keeping them alive. Since I have vowed to keep them alive this time, its totally stepping out of my comfort zone by remembering to water them
5.) I have an herb garden started
6.) I joined a car club with others who have (and appreciate) the cars like mine
7. I went to the Halloween party, sans boy toy and I had a BLAST!
8.) I'm spending more time with my friends & family then I have in years (and I LOVE! it)
9.) I smile (yea, mom. I used "I" and "smile" in the same sentence). SIDENOTE: Its amazing the reaction I get when I smile and flirt. Some have a panic reaction due to such a hottie giving them the time of day. But for the others, I've met several new people, and they actually approached me, talked to me, and are still talking to me after the initial meeting
10.) "No" is my new favorite word, and I don't feel guilty saying it
11.) I have a job which I love and get paid a shit ton o' money
12.) And the proudest, "out of my comfort zone" move I've done recently is ... wait for it, wait for it ... I joined the choir at my gramma's church! Yep, I'm going to be singing my little heart out at the xmas program

Speaking of heart, my "closed for renovations" post noted I was talking some time off from romantic relationships and working on myself. Finding me, learning what I want and having faith I will get it, removing myself from negativity and drama, engulfing myself with positiveness, forgiving and forgetting, letting my past go so the new can come in, among other things. Though I am staying single for the time being - I'm having wayy too much fun not committing all my time to one person, as well as enjoying my plethora of "me" time, I am most certainly open to possibilities, armed, of course, with my new found ability to embrace the word no. Sa-weet! I'm gonna make one hell of a (hottie) wife for a deserving guy one day! So, with my heart now under new management, gone is the thinking it was only open (or closed) for one thing. Here to stay is the thinking that my heart is now open for the world. And what a big, wonderful world it is. I'll be all 'bring it!' & the world will be all "its already been brotten'". Kane would be so proud!

Don't Hate Me Because I'm A H07G33K

Yea, I'm a geek. And, I'm also a hottie. Why is it so difficult for people to grasp that these two separate concepts can live harmoniously together in fantastic ways?? Hottie geeks may not be the norm, but we exist. I know a few.

Most people think I'm only a geek-by-marriage due to Kane's Über Nerd status. Pfffffft! My geekly tendencies were influenced well before I met Kane. Besides, if I wasn't a geek when we started dating, we neeeeeevvvvvvverrrr would have worked. I mean if my mind wasn't at least a half time resident of Nerdville, his jokes and sly comments alone would go right over my head leaving me with a perpetual deer in head lights look. And our wedding? Probably would not have been an EPIC WIN. Seriously? He had a T-shirt that read:
C:/DOS
C:/DOS/RUN
RUN/DOS/RUN
And I remember laughing my ass off the first time I saw him wear it because I knew exactly what it meant. If I didn't get it, that totally would have been a deal breaker for him.

I grew up watching old sci-fi on TV: The Twilight Zone, Amazing Stories, Doctor Who, Star Trek: the original series, and V. I had 3 favorite movies growing up: Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, and Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home.

My dad had a shit ton o' sci-fi movies on VHS (yes, I said VHS) and on Saturdays when mom was working, I got to pick out a movie, dad would make lunch (either a hot ham & cheese sandwich or PB&J - and if it was cold out, a cup of Campbell's Bean with Bacon soup accompanied said sandwich). Doritos or Pringles were the side dish of choice, and to finish off the tasty noms, a home made Rocky Road ice cream milk shake). SIDENOTE: Why the fuck can I remember what I ate for lunch on the weekend when I was little, yet I have no memory of what I had for breakfast this morning? We'd sit in the living room, eat our lunch, watch the movie, quote the movie -we still do that to this day, BTW. Such great father/daughter bonding. My movie selection was usually one of my 3 favorites. You know kids and watching the same thing over and over and over.

Of course, being a little kid, remembering such long movie titles was near impossible. And you can't just say "Star Trek" or "Star Wars" cuz you'd end up watching either The Motion Picture or A New Hope. Although good in their own right, they weren't near as exciting as a Jedi with a robot arm, seeing bugs crawl into a guy's ear, or watching whales. So, to specify the movie I wanted to watch, they became "the robot arm movie" (The Empire Strikes Back), "the movie with the ear bugs" (The Wrath of Kahn), and "the whale movie" (The Voyage Home). Dad knew exactly what movie I wanted to watch based on my Nikki Original titles. As I got older, dad introduced me to the classics. The Day The Earth Stood Still, Enemy Mine, Planet of the Apes, and of course Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I still remember galloping around the house like a horse, hands cupped, trying to mimic the sound of 2 coconut halves being banged together. Ahh, good times.

Here are some of the reasons why I was, and still am, a geek:

Before Kane:

*I remember my first doctor
*I could name all the characters in the Star Wars trilogy at age 3
*My first gaming system was Atari, then upgraded to an NES when I was 4
*My first computer, at age 6, was CLI and I knew how to .exe very well
*When dad said "you, damn, dirty, apes", I'd laugh

With Kane:

*Got married at the Star Trek Experience
*I know the location of every comic book store within a 50 mile radius
*We were first in line to see the remake of Hitchhiker's Guide
*We can haz'd everything
*When I hear "Schrödinger", my first thought is that poor cat
*I got PS2 games for holidays (and LOVED! them)
*I own more anime and manga then a Japanese school girl

After Kane:

*My living room decor includes wall scrolls
*My forum signature (in pink letters):

SELECT Try FROM Do FULL JOIN DoNot ON Do.Try=DoNot.Try
0 rows returned

*I own a pair of fuzzy d20, an "icanhascheezburger" magic 8 ball, a Borg Cube mug, a Tribble, and a jar of Magic, Self-Healing, Server Pixie Dust (biodegradable, soy based)
*Not only can I understand The Big Bang Theory show on TV, I laugh my ass off at it cuz its hella funny
*Stephen Hawking is my hero
*I'm friends with Dr. Michio Kaku on Facebook

Today's rant, trip down memory lane, and Geek Card renewal is brought to you by the letters T, O, J, O, Q, A, and an apostrophe. Those letters appeared in a message from a geek website I frequent which rejected my account nickname. Notice the mentioning of a "Good Taste Patrol"? Yep. H07G33K was rejected. Yet, Tojo'Qa is a Klingon swear word. But, yet, H07G33K was not in "good taste"...?

Don't worry, I ripped their "fine customer service monkeys" a new one, cuz, yea, it was a nickname emergency. Pointing out how my nickname was in wayyy more "good taste" then their Klingon swear words, mentioning I happened to be a geek and a hottie so the name was completely fitting for my exclusive use, and then closing with something about the combination of the two being the fantasy of every nerd. I'm curious to see what their response is ...

Thank you, life, for your plethora of inspiration!

Yea, I Have A Colorful Vocabulary (NOT "I'M EASILY OFFENDED" SAFE)

My colorful vocabulary development began at an early age. My mom loves to tell the story of me at age 2 when I said "Fuck It" in front of her. After holding back her laughter, she looked down at me and sternly said "What did you say?" and without skipping a beat, I replied "Bucket". Got a free pass on that one, avoiding any hard time or punishment that could have resulted, due to my quick wit & rhyming abilities.

When mom and I drove somewhere, I'd use such phrases as "Shit", "Damn it!", or my favorite, "you dumb broad" in response to my witnessing a driver doing something stupid. Props to dad for these phrases.

I'm totally blaming my colorful vocabulary on heredity. Many members of my family, 2 generations thus far!, have the same colorful language gene. See, its not my fault! I was born this way!

I remember hearing a widow once, say she just wanted to use the F word. My response? Go for it! It's such a versatile word. Especially when you're a widow! I mean it can be: a noun (that fucker died on me), an adjective (losing a spouse fucking sucks!), an adverb (I cry every fucking day), used in the middle of a word thus creating your own word to accentuate feeling (Am I sad? Absofuckinglutely!), as well as expressing a range of emotions such as dismay (fuck it), confusion (what the fuck?), anger (fuck you), and yes, even happiness (this is fucking amazing). I told her there was no shame in saying it. See how it feels rolling off the tongue. After what you've been through? You deserve it! It made her feel better - as at that time - the F word was the only way she could completely package everything she was feeling into such a simplicity that everyone could understand.

One of the things I have embraced due to (and since) becoming a widow - that's been a blessing, my sliver lining in a storm cloud, my lemonade out of lemons - is that I really don't give a fuck. I spent 27 years trying to appease others. Always cautious of what I did or said, following others' leads instead of my own, for fear that I would offend someone, not be accepted, and/or lose approval. All the while sacrificing who I really was. Now days, I don't care who's offended by something I did/said/didn't do. I don't need others' approval or acceptance, I can put on my big girl panties and do it my damn self, and your judgement against my actions has no bearing on me. Life's too short, and mamby-pamby land is no place to live. So, if you feel so inclined to use the F word, in one of its many versatile forms, to express any array of emotions, situations, or circumstances, I say FUCK YEA, USE IT!

I LOVE! The Drags ...

SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY! THE GROUND IS ALREADY SHAKING!! TEN BUCKS BUYS YOU THE SEAT, BUT YOU ONLY NEED ... THE EDGE!!! (A Nikki Original ®)

Now that I've gotten everyone pumped up ...

My awesome Aunt & Uncle were in town for the NHRA drag races. I went to visit with them on Friday and they just happened to have an extra ticket to Saturday's race and would I like to go with them? HELL TA THE YEA! I will totally sacrifice sleep, spend all day in the hot "fall" weather, sun blaring down, sweating my non-existent balls off, to spectate in one of my most favorite past times ... DRAG RACING!

Kane and I spent our first years together doing one of 2 things; riding, or hanging out at the drag strips. For a brief time, he was the rider for our friend's drag bike. Such a sick bike that was wicked fast. Of course, this was in the days before good cell phone cameras or fancy-shmancy digital cameras a college student could afford, so I'll spare everyone the play-by-play photo shoot, rather I will share one pic (and I must apologize for its quality) that holds a special place in my heart. Oh the memories it triggers! [spares audience the singing of said song from Cats].

What an awesome chance for Kane to ride the sickest drag bike this side of the Mississippi. He had all the qualifications: he knew how to ride, he was only 120 lbs. soaking wet, did everything 110%, and Wuss - the bike's owner - trusted him. Kane even nick named the racing team "Stick Figure Racing". At first he was uneasy about being the rider of the drag bike. He had taken his 600r on the strip a few times, but his little 600r was no comparison to this bike. I mean we're talking single digits in the quarter mile here people! - or so I was told.

Set the Way Back Machine to Dec. 2003, right before Christmas: I remember us pulling into the parking lot of the drag strip and him saying, "What if I break it? Wuss'll KILL me!!" Being the devoted, and supportive girlfriend I was - and totally thinking you are SO going to do this because 1.) the bragging rights I'll have that yea, my boyfriend's the rider, and 2.) let's not forget instant, free pit passes! - I put my hands on his cheeks, looked deep into his beautiful hazel-green eyes and said, "Honey, if Wuss didn't think you could do it, he never would have offered you the opportunity. Plus, we're here now so shit or get off the pot."

Watching him change into his leathers made me beam with pride. Never once thinking of the danger he could potentially be in. His first time on that bike, scared as hell he'd "break" it, all that horse power he was in control of - err supposed to be in control of - zipping down the drag strip at un-godly speeds. Naw, I was thinking how awesome its gonna be to tell everyone at work what I did that weekend.

I was standing near the starting line, my disposable camera in hand, playing shutter bug at each stage. Pep talk before the burn out, pep talk at the starting line, Kane's insistence on running pro tree set up, the sound of the engine, the smell of race gas, the burning rubber, and then he was off. All these years later, I can still feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins triggered by the sights, sounds, and smells; I can only imagine what he was felling. Then I saw it ... the bike was almost at 1/2 track, and was no longer on both wheels. The front tire came up faster then I could blink, and there was Kane, riding a wheely on this monster of a machine. I didn't have time to panic cuz as fast as that front wheel went up, it was back down, hooked up again, as if the tire never lost contact. The horrible crashing noise that followed, and smoke pouring out from under the bike, had me wondering what the fuck just happened? I saw the time and MPH flash on the board, so I knew he made it to the end, and yea, the bike was still on the track, both wheels down (like they should be). My first thought, OMG! The bike!?!?! And, what in the hell was that noise?? Pfff! I know what you're thinking. 'Screw the bike!!! What about your boyfriend???' I knew Kane was fine: he was still on the bike, it was moving, and there were no flames shooting out the side. He's good.

As we met Kane at the pre-staging area, I remember his head hung low in shame, shaking it side to side, as if scolding himself for being bad, a look of terror on his face. As he rode up to Wuss. I could hear him saying "I'm sorry" over and over. Wuss had the biggest smile I had ever seen on his face. WTF?? As I got closer, I saw what Kane was "sorry" about, and why Wuss was smiling. Oil.leaking.everywhere. But the bike (and rider) were intact.

Apparently, when he brought the wheely down, the impact of the front wheel hitting asphalt again caused the oil pan to hit the track thus cracking it. That's where the horrible cracking noise and smoke billowing out of the bike came from. Wuss was smiling because Kane did exactly what he was supposed to do: control the bike, keep it on the strip, and keep the rider safe.

I gave Kane a huge hug & kiss and told him how proud I was of him. "You did it, baby!! You did it!!" The twinkle in his eye from my delight was the only reassurance I needed that, although shaken up - and terribly sorry for the borked oil pan - he was ok.

That night I posted on our sport bike forum a little poem I had written about the incident, à la White Zombie:

"Grips the throttle, his knuckles turn white with desire. The oil pan of the 'Busa exploding on the drag way like a slug from a 45. True death, 400 horse power of maximum performance piercing the track. This is Black Sunshine"

Unfortunately, the bike needed work after Kane's run, and Kane's *ahem* thinking he was young and invincible a few weeks later (and the broken wrist that was a result of said thinking) ended his drag racing "career". We made our cameos at other drag strips. Oh the sights, smells, and excitement! It wasn't the same as Kane actually riding, but it was still fun. Kane was moral support for Wuss, learning and watching, and I played with the adorable puppy Wuss & his wife brought with them. Being at the drag strip this weekend brought back all those wonderful memories and good times. Of my amazing husband, pursuing a passion, in his element, living life as if it were his last day on earth.

So, when life hands you an opportunity - no matter how scarry it seems - suit up, do a burn out, keep it on the track, and never lose control.

 This pic was taken right before he took the run discussed above

Halloween ... The Best Day of the Year!!!!

I LOVE! Halloween! For me, Halloween holds soo many "happy little trees". Getting to dress up totally slutty (dead hooker circa 2007 & Naughty Snow White circa 2009), and wearing entirely too much eyeliner (Vampiress circa 2010). You get to hang out with your awesome friends, do "killer" Jell-O shots, eat a shit ton o' chocolate, participate in mandatory dancing courtesy of the blaring of music the cops asked the homeowners twice to turn down, and get so shit faced that your novio-at-the-time had to carry you across the street (due to your misplacing of your shoes) so you can pee for 200th time that evening (and not have to wait in line to do so). Ahhh, good times!

Then there's electronic entertainment. TV during the month of October actually has stuff worth watching (the Halloween specials, Paranormal Witness, T.A.P.S, Most Haunted Places). And radio? The annual "Ghost to Ghost" show on Coast to Coast AM with George Noory consisting of 4 hours of people calling in to tell ghost stories. Hell ta tha ya! Of course, I don't sleep much that night ... especially now that I have to sleep alone ... :'( But I can't help it! Ghost stories fascinate me for some odd reason...

Kane on the other hand not so much. That man was scared of one thing, and one thing only... ghosts! Shit that scares me ... zombies? He was a fanatic! Stuff that facinates me ... ghosts? The man cowered in fear! Umm, honey? They're both dead? What's the difference??? Being the devoted husband that he was, he humored me. I shared all my ghost stories and theories with him, I made him listen to super cool EVPs I found on the internet, I drug him along to the local ghost tour held at a historic hotel in the down town, and tried my hardest to convince him to watch ghost movies with me. NOTE: Silent Hill was the ONLY "ghost" movie he watched with me and I think it had something to do with the fact that it was based on a video game ...

SIDENOTE: He really liked the movie, but he didn't sleep that night ...

This Halloween, I will be attending the annual bash my good friends so graciously put on. I remember the first one Kane and I went to. We had just celebrated our 1st wedding anniversary. He had this idea in his head to go as the Phantom. We drove all over town 2 weekends in a row, looking for the physical to materialize this "idea" from his head into reality. I do have to give him props; that man had the uncanny ability to turn his ideas into reality, to go after (and get) what he wanted. And he looked hot!

Tonight when I sent in my R.S.V.P. (for one) a wave of emotions hit me. I smiled and laughed (at the good times), then I cried (that Kane wouldn't be with me), and then I got angry (that everyone I had invited to attended the bash with me is no longer in my life). It dawned on me: I had always had a +1 for the Halloween bash. Whether it was Kane, or someone I was dating at the time, I was always on the arm of a guy. I don't think I have ever not been in a relationship or desperately pursuing one. Suffocation comes to mind. I never really had the chance to do things for me, that made me happy. It was always us. I always had someone else to consider. 

Now my marriage to Kane was the best of both worlds; togetherness and independence. He let me do what I wanted, when I wanted. And I did the same for him. We both had so much love for each other, all we wanted was to make each other happy. I could go out with the girls, buy what I wanted, go where I wanted, yet I always had someone I was happy to come home to. *Sigh* I miss that.

Since my heart is closed for renovations, and I'm embracing this person I knew existed, but never wanted to admit. The one who - because life gave her lemons - has to do everything by herself (making lemonade included). She only has herself to rely on and herself never disappoints. I am going to that bash ... solo. And I'm going to work it proud! I'm going to look beautiful in my costume, I'm going to have fun with my friends, slam Jell-O shots, eat a shit ton o' chocolate, smile pretty for the camera, and I'm going to have a blast, damn it! I don't need a guy ... I can do it my damn self!

Memory

Not an hour goes by that I don't have a memory come into my mind. Mostly happy memories, yet some bad. I relive them, dwell on them, laugh and/or cry. As if the bad ones I can change by obsessing over them (coulda, shoulda, woulda), or the good ones can be relived again in the physical, using all 5 senses. Of course, this is never the case. Something as meaningless as a smell, a word, a sound, a song, throws me back into better times. Memory ... All alone in the moonlight ... Oh, sorry. My bad. </Show Tunes Singing>

And, seriously?, why is it that I can't remember what I had for breakfast, yet I can remember something from 5 years ago, like it just happened, every little detail, playing in my head, clear as day. Daylight ... I must wait for the sunrise ... Oops! There I go again.

I have tried everything to stop the perpetual movies playing in my head. Listening to music? Didn't work so well. Watching TV? The commercials totally break my concentration of not thinking. At night when I'm trying to fall asleep? That's when my mind is the most active! Midnight ... Not a sound from the pavement ... Tee hee giggle giggle, I'm doing it again, huh?

When Kane and I got married (hell, even when we were dating) I had problems letting things go. He would always say "is there anything you can do about it?" and I'd shake my head - usually because I was so hysterical I couldn't talk - "well, then put it out of your mind". Sooo much easier said then done. Over time I learned how to put things out of my mind. I was doing quitewellakshully at it; then Kane died. Everything I had taught myself over the years quickly went right out the window, and those fucking memories came back. With.a.vengeance.

For the first several months anything and everything set me off. Even seeing the bistro table outside would send me into a tail spin of hysterical sobbing, yelling, and rage. Kane and I spent many nights sitting outside, talking, laughing, enjoying wine or our favorite cigar. Every time I saw that table, it reminded me I would never have that again. I would never hear his voice, his laugh, never feel his kiss or his hand on mine. Touch me ... It's so easy to leave me ... All alone with the memory ... Really? I'm sooo adding a link to this song at the end of my blog post so everyone else can get it stuck in their head, too!

The memories were killing me. I knew there was something I had to do. I never wanted my memory to fade, I mean, we had some amazing times! But reflecting on everything caused me to be an emotional wreck. And these memories were so strong, It was totally unpossible to "put it out of my mind".

I started out slow. Anytime I had a memory pop in my head, I honored it. I let my mind play it back. I let the sensations flow through me. I let the tears fall. I let the anger burn. I let the hurt consume me. And when it was done, I moved on. After several months of doing this, honoring my memory, letting it have its way with me, the memories effected me less and less when I thought about them again. Suddenly, a memory that made me break out in gut-wrenching sobbs, actually made me smile, laugh, give thanks and brought comfort.

Remember, your memories are yours. No one can take them from you, tell you how to react to them, and, yes, they will always be with you - would you ever want to forget? I don't. Honor those memories. Feel them, relive them, understand them, embrace them. When you wake up in the morning it will be a new day, and yesterday will be a memory, too. Daylight ... I must wait for the sunrise ... I must think of a new life ... And I musn't give in.

http://youtu.be/ivIT0TQ4vRM

"Once You Label Me, You Negate Me"

The quote above is from Søren Kierkegaard (1813 - 1855). A philosopher and theologian wise beyond his years. And how true is that quote? Our society today is so label happy. Mother, father, divorced, single, widow, widower, wife, husband, employed, unemployed. The minute we step out into the world, we are instantly labeled. A label which we carry around with us that is then used to determine the category(s) we fall into. The labels may change, we may add them or take them away, wish we had a certain label, wear them proudly, or cower in shame from them. These labels others assign us - or we assign to ourselves - often negatively define us as individuals; as if what we do, our circumstances in life, or the choices we make gives an exact blue print to others of who we are. To me, this is complete bull shit.

When you first meet someone, they usually ask "What do you do for a living?", "Are you married/single?", "Do you have children?", "Where ya from?". Each of these questions may be great ice breakers, but the underlined motive is to label you, classify you into a certain category, and deem you worthy or unworthy, before even getting to know you on a deeper level, as a person, an individual.

I am so guilty of labeling others. Good or bad, it helps me remember who they are, to stay away or come closer, trust them or not, to deem them worthy or unworthy of my time. I'm also guilty of labeling myself. I'm single, I'm a widow, I'm not happy, I'm useless. This negative effect of labeling (myself and others) never crossed my mind (thank you societal norms!) until last night.

A long time ago, people told me that my "label" of widow really turns people off. It scares them, it instantly puts out the vibe of death, makes others face what they don't want to face ... the inevitable, and instantly attaches stigmas. Reflecting on this, I usually answer the "are you married" question with a simple no, not yet, or I'm single (unless of course I want people to leave me alone, then ya, I pull the widow card). Not divulging my true status avoids a detailed explanation, and keeps the sympathy card in the deck cuz I really don't need your sympathy. When asked last night if I was single (you know, ice breaker question) I answered yes, and promptly followed it with well, widowed actually. SHIT! I did not mean for that to come out. I was soo afraid of being judged, labeled, or the instant stigma being attached to me because of one word, widowed. Yet, after hearing the word widowed, this person didn't judge, attach a label to me, ask 20 questions about my status, or even bat an eye. For the first time since becoming a widow, I did not cower in shame after saying that word. I wore it proudly, because that experience made me who I am today. The widow chisel has chipped away at the marble block that was once me to form the beautiful sculpture I am today, and for that I am truly grateful. I am not the young widow, or the lady who lost her husband, or the once happily married wife who is now single. No, I'm Nikki. 

So, the next time you chose to judge someone based on a "label" assigned to them, try getting to know them first. Their name is a good start. Don't look at the block of marble that once defined them, rather see the beautiful sculpture their "labels" have created to define who they are today. Like a picture says a thousand words, a name (and the person behind it) says even more.

The World Lost A Great Mind Today

Nerds, 633|<5, graphic artists, iPod/iPhone addicts, and anti-PC'ers alike, morn the passing of a great mind today. Steve Jobs, a college drop out, turned a dream & an idea into an enterprise that literally changed the world. My heart goes out to his widow (and family). I know first hand what its like to lose a great man.

I often ask myself, why does God take the good ones and leave the crappy ones behind. At first I thought it was just to make my life miserable. Yet, there are so many shitty people out there that couldn't possibly even know me, let alone single me out to directly piss me off. So I'll go with this answer; one my grandma gave me when Kane died: "God has a book which lists the dates & times of when each person on earth will return home. When your date comes, you get to leave. I know it hurts, but know that Kane did everything on earth he set out to do, and his reward is eternal life".

I must have argued with her for hours on this one. But grandma! I still need him! Does God not see that??? This world has a severe lack of love, why would God take someone from earth that was the most perfect example of love?? Does that make me a bad person cuz I'm still here?? FYI, she is a widow, too

I wanted to send out my own memorial to Mr. Jobs, and express my thankfulness to him for things he accomplished that he set out to do during his time on earth:

*If it wasn't for your Apple II, I would never have died from measles, snakebite, dysentery, typhoid, cholera, and/or exhaustion in first grade.

*If it wasn't for your disappearing act in 1985, then your epic reappearing act in 1997, I never would have learned Microsoft Windows.

*If it wasn't for your iPod, I never would have known I ABSOLUTELY! need to carry 8 gigs of my tune-age around with me … at all times.

*If it wasn't for your iPhone, I never would have experienced being able to talk and surf the web at the same time!

*If it wasn't for your putting of “i” in front of everything, I never would be able to use such words as: iFail, iBorked, iFirework, or iThingy.

*If it wasn't for your Mac Book Pro, I 1.)  never would have been pissed at my husband for 3 months straight because he got me one for me for my birthday instead of the wood floors I asked for, and 2.) because I was finally overcome by the "Mac Side" after a year of refusing to use it, I would not be typing this memorial right now.

*If it wasn't for your “Genius” employees at your Apple stores, I never would have known just how dumb a “Genius” could be.

Thank you, Steve, for making this world a better place! May you have an unlimited downloads, virus free, talking while surfing, ∞GS speed ... iAfterLife! Namaste.

Things I Learned This Weekend ...

I have been having the best time since I swore off romantic relationships, err I mean since my heart is currently closed for renovations. I go out with friends, I laugh, I don't cry, I started doing things again that make me happy, and I feel things are really starting to turn around for me. Damn it! that I didn't come to this realization earlier!!

Since I am one who never stops learning, and always looking for ways to better myself (and have fun), here is a list of the things I learned this weekend:

Friday morning:

1.) I am an AMAZING crêpe maker!
2.) I can fix things around the house
3.) I rock at stimulating conversations
4.) "my hair is very fine and it falls flat easily" is NOT code for: be scissor happy & completely ignore the picture I brought in for reference. SIDENOTE: I will miss you so, natural curls :'(


Friday Afternoon:


4.) The pink my manicurist picked out because she HATES! the pink I usually pick out not only dries faster because it requires less coats to actually look pink, its a wayy better pink for me. Thx, EA! <3 u!
5.) You sooo can drive home, weaving in and out of traffic because you have somewhere to be at 6:30 PM, people! move, bitch! get out the way!, down city streets, in rush hour traffic, and not mess up your manicure/pedicure

Friday Evening:

6.) The thing you are eating that's fried, tastes sweet, has no bones, with the consistency of a banana, which you carefully ate to avoid bones because you could have sworn it was a piece of chicken, is in fact a fried banana. The chicken is under the saffron rice, next to the peas, parallel to the asparagus, in the pot which I'm almost certain is the same temperature as the sun
7.) 24 hour, $2.50 coffee, with unlimited, free refills, an awesome outside patio (where smoking is permitted), in an old house turned art gallery, featuring awesome views of the skyline, that's only 5 minutes from your home, does exist! BONUS: They serve crêpes!! SIDENOTE: Pay no mind to the hookers walking by or the man mumbling obscenities to himself. It's in the heart of down town, what did you expect???   
8.) Time flies (Holy shit! Its after 1 AM!)

Saturday Morning:

9.) I still need to learn how to say antenna en español *sigh
10.) I am a whole lot of awesome
11.) I have awesome friends

Saturday Afternoon:

12.) I really should have taken a nap


Saturday Night:

13.) I fit quitewellakshully on a 748R
14.) I make a 748R look good!
15.) I come up with some great one-liners
16.) I am a whole lot of awesome
17.) I'm so awesome, I was invited to join a car club (still considering this)
18.) Must get new iTrip as the bad wires in my current model are disrupting the connection between my iPod and my car speakers. One word for ya, Apple: iFail!
19.) I can make guys stop and stare when I eat ice cream
20.) "you can zip-tie that shit down, yo"
21.) My car rocks!


Sunday Morning:

22.) I really should have gone to bed on Saturday night and not Sunday morning
23.) I am not a morning person
24.) My car rocks!
25.) My gramma likes riding in my car
26.) Her church friends like my car
27.) My car is perrrrrrdy
28.) I actually like going to church
29.) I am truly, 100% happy and content


Well, ladies and gentleman, it is a new week in a few hours, and I have a shit ton of stuff to accomplish & more fun to have! May your desire to learn be strong and the knowledge you find be plentiful.

The Widowed Hottie's 2nd Law of Widowhood: Trolls Exist!

The Widowed Hottie defines trolls as "shitty people who suck big time". I'm sure everyone out there can agree. Which leads me to the 2nd Law of Widowhood: Trolls Exist! From people you just met to people you've known for years, your chances of running into these trolls exponentially increases when you become a widow.

                                

Good lord, have I met my share of trolls! There's more out there then you think, and yea, they exist. They live under bridges made from the wood of the cutting down of your happy little trees. You may run across several varieties of trolls, at different points in your widowhood journey. They have always been there, yet your perception of them is more clear now. They come out from under their bridges like mad fools. Their prey of choice? Widows.

Below are descriptions of some of the varieties of trolls:

Work Trolls. This species of troll wants to be your buddy. You know, invites you to happy hour after work, lunch meetings where talking shop is required so they can get the latest and greatest gossip, and they seem to be following your every move (like into the bathroom? CREEPY!). These trolls want nothing more than to gain your trust so they can then stab you in the back, humiliate you, or the worst, get you fired. Watch your tongue, feelings, and emotions around this breed of troll. A visit to your HR department may be in order to keep this variety at bay.

Camelion Trolls: This variety is most likely the closest to you. They can be friends, family, people you seek for advice, etc. They seem like normal people, you may actually enjoy being around them, they show sympathy, and/or help you along your journey. Unfortunately, these are the hardest to spot of the troll species. Usually something small and un-noticed to you, triggers their true nature to come out, and when it does you don't think anything of it because you have known them for so long; its just so-and-so being so-and-so. Watch out for these trolls. Yea, they're that good. Though its almost impossible to spot them until its too late, cutting ties and running for your life after you recognize them is probably the best way to rid yourself of this type of troll.

Internet Trolls: These trolls like to hang out in cyber space. Forums, online dating sites, social networking sites among others are their favorite hunting grounds. Like the camelion trolls, they are difficult to detect, but internet trolls show their true colors faster, and they are easier to get rid of. Watch who you give your phone number to (they like to obsessively call and text if a computer is not available as they are usually not smartphone users). These trolls are the best at getting the hint. If they initiate contact via electronic means and you ignore them, they will eventually move along and leave you alone. If you get one that's resilient, blocking, reporting, or canceling usually works. 

Commerce Trolls: These trolls are commonly found in the customer service industries. They directly interact with people and are usually rude, uncaring, clueless, and opinionated. The best force against this species? Demand to speak with a manager/supervisor. Works like a charm every time. There is no real way to avoid commerce trolls, but going above them to get things resolved, make a complaint, and/or vent takes a chunk out of their ego.

Now, I couldn't introduce you to the world of trolls without making recommendations on how to protect yourself. Below are a few tips to combat, and raise above, trolls:

1.) NEVER stoop to their level. In fact, when you take the high road in a situation, (not arguing, staying quiet, or my favorite, witty one liners with sarcastic undertones) it usually pisses them off even more than stooping to their level.  Instant gratification for you, and you never had to succumb to their trollness. NOTE: If you're not careful, they WILL drop you down to their level and beat you with experience.

2.) Remember a troll's hatred, jealousy, judgments, etc. towards you is only a reflection of their inadequacies, insecurities, and inner demons they have (which they are unwilling to face). It has nothing to do with you, your words or your actions. Just let it go. NOTE: Think (or say): I'm rubber and your glue. What ever you say, bounces off me and sticks to you.

3.) The old saying "kill 'em with kindness"? Yea, so true. Not only will it drive them insane wondering why you are being so nice to them, it will cause "watch your back" syndrome as they know revenge is a dish best served cold. NOTE: Not that I am condoning revenge, karma will prevail, but they don't know that you're not going to try something <evil grin>

4.) Find new friends, rekindle old friendships, or try new things in a group setting. When you're happy, it opens the door for more happiness to flow in. Like attracts like, what you do returns to you 10 fold, bla, bla, bla.  NOTE: If you are prone to see/run into said trolls occasionally, exude happiness, joy, love, fun, etc. Its like rubbing it in, without actually rubbing it in. Perception here, people!

May your journey be troll free!

What Makes The Widowed Hottie Happy? A Conundrum.

A friend of mine I went to see last week recommended I make a list. List EVERYTHING, she said. What I want in a romantic relationship, what I want in a job, what I want to get done, what I want for ME. Then, as I accomplish things on my list, I check them off, reviewing the list periodically to see how much I've accomplished.

 
Sa-weet! I LOVE lists! Without writing things down, I would be completely lost! Like the fact that I had apparently told my mom some time last week (you know, when I was stressing out about all the shit going on in my life and sick in bed for two days) that I'd be over at her house this afternoon to watch a movie she had just bought, that I can't remember the name of. Yea, didn't write it down, so I forgot. I know, I know. Daughter 101 for the fail! And I was really embarrassed when she called me today and asked me if I was on my way over and I was like, why would I be on my way over? FUCK! I'm soo sorry, mom! My bad. Love u! Thank God she knows I'm a space Cadette at times.

I want my list to be the best list I have ever written. We're talking New York Times Bestseller, Nobel Prize winning, book tour, webpage owning, amazing list! I mean, my entire future is riding on this! A few ideas in my head, nothing concrete, just jot them down, go from there, a work in progress, easy peasy, right? Ummm, not so much. After seeing the only things on my list were: 1.) a square to house the check mark in when I accomplish said task, and 2.) the words "awesome, high paying job" next to it, I realized I'm actually not sure what I want. I know a shit ton of stuff I don't want. But exactly what DO I want?  

I have always been a driven, self confident woman. I knew what I wanted, and how to get it. Yet, now that I am 30, I'm clueless. I'm totally blaming this on widdah brain. I sat there and thought (cuz my mind is a perpetual think tank) ... what makes me happy? I was pulling up old files from the way back machine's storage vault, looking through old pictures, remembering good times, talking with friends. And then it hit me ... <evil grin> I know what makes me happy!

I turned to a clean page in my notebook, titled the page What Makes The Widowed Hottie Happy?, drew my standard square to house my check mark in when I accomplish the task, and wrote the following: MOTORCYCLES: A Ducati! I got the riding bug at age 19. A co-worker of mine rode and I thought it was the coolest thing in the world to hear his riding stories. His stories led me to purchase my first bike - a 2001 Kawasaki Ninja 250. Riding said Ninja led me to the most awesome, Über elitist snob, motorcycle club in my area (now defunct). And said, now defunct, Über elitist snob motorcycle club led me to the most amazing friends which I still have. And my most amazing friends which I still have led me to my wonderful husband. Good times.

One of my favorite sayings is, and yea, its a Nikki original: You can take the girl outta the sportbike, but you can't take the sportbike outta the girl. With that said, I never lost my riding bug, its always been there. Life just happened around me, and it got put on the back burner. However, now its back. with.a.vengeance. Something I must not ignore. It is who I am; it is what I love; it is what makes me happy.

Imagine that? Three little words ended up with 4 pages and counting of things I want. Things that make me happy. I need a job to afford a motorcycle, so that's on there with my qualifications listed. When I start riding again, its certain that I need a man who also rides, so that's on there with my qualifications listed. I need to do things around the house so when I do get back into riding again, I can dedicate all my free time to riding, so there's a to do list in there, too.

While writing my list in progress, not once did I get angry. Not once did I cry. I even actually smiled! For the first time in 2+ years, I was genuinely happy. Alone at night, with my thoughts, happy. So now I'm off to make my dreams come true, and start checking things off my list. Vroom, vroom, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack!

Loss After Loss

Without a doubt, the most epic loss one can experience is the death of a spouse. Thus far, no loss I have ever gone through was as painful, life changing, or devastating as losing my wonderful husband. I thought for sure we would grow old together, we'd retire by the ocean, and spend the day holding hands and rocking in rocking chairs on the wrap around porch of our Craftsman Bungalow. Pound sand, fate!

I've had my share of loss after loss. It seems like almost anything I do, from seeking happiness, to relieving physical pain ends in some sort of loss. 

Certain friends I lost. I really miss the company of someone who knew exactly what I was going through, the laughs, the gourmet dinners, and the booze. But, I really DON'T miss the drama. I am grateful for all I learned and experienced during that time.

Certain loves I lost. I really miss the companionship, the laughs, the marathon all-nighters of video game playing, and someone to run their fingers through my hair, while I lay in their arms, until I fell asleep. But, I really DON'T miss the hurt. I am grateful that I was loved after love.

Certain material possessions. I really miss having everything Kane and I worked hard for, a yard, a fast convertible on cool fall nights, a back seat, and planting flowers. But, I really DON'T miss the upkeep of a large house, the maintenance, or being miles and miles from civilization. I am grateful for the happy memories.

Inability to have children. This was a decision my husband and I didn't make lightly. I was in such severe, constant pain, I almost passed out at work, I couldn't sleep at night, I was miserable. Surgery was my only option for relief. My wonderful husband told me he would rather have the love of his life not suffering over having children any day. Am I sad I can't have children naturally? A little. But I have accepted that it just wasn't in the cards for me. And if I do decide to invite love into my life again, I KNOW he will be completely accepting of my inabilities, focusing only on my abilities. I am grateful I was in the hospital ending my physical pain when he died as I didn't have to witness it, and I am equally grateful we did not have children as I would not want to explain daily where daddy was.

So here's my question: was it really necessary to have all the loss that followed this most epic loss of my life? The answer is ... was it really a loss? That which fell away needed to fall away. It was no longer for my highest and best good. It was an experience I needed to have that was only temporary. Each loss told me it was OK to grieve, be sad and shed tears. Each loss taught me a lesson. Each loss allowed me the opportunity to give thanks, and see the underlying love. Each loss further defined what I want in my life.

I must see this from a perspective of not loss, but rather gain. Look at all I have gained from what I thought was a loss. I gained new friends, a new attitude on love, new possessions, I no longer judge as it hurt when I was judged, and acceptance for things in my life I had no control over. I am now prepared for future "loss" because after the loss of my husband, everything else is so insignificant. And after each loss I experience, something better replaces it.

HAPPY LITTLE TREES! HAPPY LITTLE TREES!

"There are no mistakes, just happy little accidents" -Bob Ross

Kane and I LOVED! watching "Joy of Painting". Every time it came on, we'd sit there, glued to the screen, mesmerized by his abilities, his gentle demeanor, and that 'fro!!! Screaming out for him to paint happy little trees in his world as if we were at a MotoGP track cheering on our favorite rider to pass in the straight away. Then high-fiving and hootin' and hollerin' loudly when he did so.

I first heard Bob Ross say the quote above when I was watching PBS while trying to escape life right after Kane died. 30 minutes was all I got, but any escape was welcome. I'd imagine living in the little log cabin he just painted, hundreds of miles away from the pain, torture, and sadness in my unhappy little world. Walking along the dirt path dusted with snow, taking in the chilly air, and plotting the best place in the clearing to build a snow man. Alas, it was just that, my imagination. Snap, back to reality. Even the beautiful landscape he had so effortlessly finished in a span of 30 minutes (including obsessive brush washing & drying) could not absorb the gut wrenching despair I was feeling. It would take a shit ton o' happy little trees to take that away, and I don't think there's a canvas in the world big enough to do that.

On my canvas of life, Lord knows I've had my share of "happy, little accidents". In fact, my canvas is littered with them. Randomness seemed the theme, but over time, they grew, multiplied, and I believe even started to develop language skills, and were most likely in deep conversations about taking over the world. No matter what I did, they kept coming. Even if I sat alone, refusing to go out, declining to see or talk to anyone, barricaded in the bedroom Kane and I had once shared, curtains & blinds closed tight, no way the outside world is getting in, one of those little fuckers would make their mark on my canvas much to my dismay.

Over the last 2+ years, I began really looking at my canvas of life. I noticed in the spots where the happy little accidents had not yet cultivated, there were happy little trees. A lot of them. Holy shit! An entire forest! The sound of a Ducati's dry clutch, the smell of race gas in the morning, witty one liners I've said, blond moments I've pulled, awesome friends, a wonderful husband I was happy to call my own who gave me the most amazing 6+ years of my life, things I'd seen, places I'd been, my beauty, my blessings, the love I still have left to give ... And I also realized the happy little accidents could easily be covered up with a little titanium white, making room for more happy little trees in my world!

I must remind myself of the following: Anything you do takes time to master (instant success is rare). You never really stop learning. Always look for ways to better yourself, add to your abilities, and fine tune your skills. Yes, attention, focus, and pure will power, as well as a little blood, sweat, and tears, are required; if not, it wouldn't be worth it. If you start something that you realize later wasn't for you, that's OK. It's merely a fork in the road of your snow dusted, dirt path. Stop, rest, and regroup before you decide which path to continue on. If you feel like giving up because you think you should be further along by now, look at how far you've come. You are a journey, not a destination.

I will now take my time, learn, and better myself to become the master painter of the canvas of my life. Magically adding a few more fan brush strokes, mixed with some Prussian Blue & Yellow Ochre to fill in the happy little accidents. It will become a masterpiece even Bob Ross would be proud of. Bring on the happy little trees!!!!!!!

Sorry, Heart Closed For Renovation

I have ALWAYS been one to follow my heart. Right, wrong. Positive, negative. Crazy, sane.  Since I was a child, I've heard “Follow your heart, Nikki”, “Trust what's in your heart, Nikki”, “The heart always knows, Nikki” bla bla bla. Hearing that day in, day out, year after year, really imprints a permanent mark on your psyche. What I really should have done was take a logical approach in all situations, and follow my mind. I think back on all the mistakes I've made, people I've hurt, ties I've broken, bridges I've burned; it all reverts back to one thing … I followed my heart.

If I hadn't followed my heart, I wouldn't be a widow. If I hadn't followed my heart, I wouldn't be unemployed. If I hadn't followed my heart, I wouldn't be in this city. If I hadn't followed my heart, I wouldn't have student loans. If I hadn't followed my heart, I would probably be a hell of a lot happier.

People have always said what happens is meant to happen. Seriously? When the FUCK did I sign up for this shit??? I follow my heart and I end up in more trouble then I would have if I followed my mind.
You know, like when your GPS epic! fails on your way home from a night out and lands you in a part of town you wouldn't be caught dead in during the day, let alone at 2 AM. And if it wasn't for the fact that you have a fast car, and the ability to spot a cop a mile away you probably would end up dead. On second thought, maybe that isn't such a bad alternative?

The last 2+ years I have been focusing on finding someone to fill the void left when Kane died. Thinking this is the only way I will ever be happy again, yet I don't think I have ever been so miserable in my entire life. Not only losing the most wonderful man in the world, the only one that will probably be able to accept me for me, love me unconditionally, and miss my little quirks when I'm not around, but having disaster after disaster in my life solely because I was trying so desperately to fill a void. In the process I compromised my core beliefs and values, I changed who I was (you know, the wonderful woman Kane fell so madly in love with?) and not for the better, disregarded the people in my life who meant the most, embarrassed myself, stopped doing things I had always loved, and became this person I don't recognize in the mirror any longer.

My heart is now closed for renovations. It needs a lot of work. But this is one fixer upper that's worth the effort. To become the shining star of the neighborhood, an example others will want to follow. So, as I turn off the GPS of my heart in preparation for said renovations, I will now follow the map of my mind. Where logical meets reality. Where I can see the dead ends, bad neighborhoods, traffic, and construction along the way so they can be avoided. On this road called life.

The Widowed Hottie's 1st Law of Widowhood: Singlehood Is The Direct Effect of Widowhood

By trade I am an analyst. I analyze everything! Decisions, choices, options. Everything gets an equal, yet separate evaluation in my mind. I can't help it; that's how I roll. And lord knows I have the time to do so.

Every once in a while I throw my analysis to the wind, and - against my better judgment - take a chance. In most cases, this occurs when it comes to matters of the heart. Regardless of whether my analysis was positive or negative (usually not so much on the positive side), I open my heart, give my all, and pray a slash doesn't come between my 'less than' and my 'three'.

I've never liked being on my own. I mean I get by (I can do small stuff around the house, I can feed myself, and take care of things when they come up) but I'm always so much better when I have someone that completes me (and can do the "man" stuff around the house). When I married Kane I was so happy that I would never have to worry about being on my own again. We'd live happily ever after, and if we didn't die at the same time, (which I was certain we would), I would go first. Pfft! Oh, the day dreams of a 23 year old! Seriously, though? Who goes into a marriage (or any relationship for that matter) thinking about your significant other's untimely demise? Especially in your 20's!

While we were married we discussed death often. A good friend of ours died suddenly so it was hard to avoid the subject. Its nothing one wants to discuss, yet important to do so. Knowing each persons wants and expectations of final arrangements is no different than knowing wants and expectations in other areas of life. Just like taxes, death is inevitable. Kane wanted to be cremated and a party thrown in his honor. And that's exactly what I did.

2 years, 11 weeks, and 6 days ago I was thrown in to, kicking and screaming, against my will, in utter denial, no mercy here people!, exactly that position. I was 27 and no longer a wife. I instantly had 2 new titles: widow ... and single.

In my (what seems like) perpetual quest over the last 2+ years to find love again, I have been the victim of many a loser and douche bag. Or have I? Let's change the perception here a bit. Maybe these men did me a favor. With each heart ache, my heart healed and grew bigger. With each whisper of 'I Love You', I was lovable again. With each happy moment, I was capable of happiness. And with each loss, something better replaced it. All the while preparing me (mind, body, and soul) for the next great love of my life.

The universe works in mysterious ways ... bound by a set of laws both scientific and spiritual. Most of us are familiar with scientific laws: Newton's Inertia, Einstein's Relativity, Hubble's Cosmic Expansion, Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle (you know, complicated mathematical equations including not only numbers, but letters and symbols I can't find on a keyboard, taking years to solve, only to prove something I didn't know needed proving).

And some of us are familiar with Universal laws: Law of Attraction, Law of Karma, Law of Intention (you know, easy to comprehend, non-mathematical, spiritually based concepts which are easily explained using the options available on a keyboard, yet such a BITCH! to put into practice).

I don't claim to understand the universe. I mean I dropped out of Physics 101. In my defence, the teacher was impossible to understand, difficult to hear, and he insisted on talking to the black board rather than the class! And, yea, sometimes I get a headache watching the Science Channel. But I have seen these laws in action. Working harmoniously together, not against each other, to make up my world, your world, our world.
 
With that said: I will keep moving forward, at the speed of light, to expand my horizons, in these uncertain times, thinking only of what I want, making good choices in the process, because I have desire to escape The Widowed Hottie's 1st Law of Widowhood.

My Life's Purpose AKA Ohhhh, Shiny! Syndrome

His Holiness the Dalai Lama once wrote: "The purpose of our existence is to seek happiness". Easy peasy, right? Seek out things that make you happy. Yet, at the same time, so complex, right? The things you do to seek happiness can often lead to drama, hurt, & sadness. The complete opposite of happiness. A catch 22?

How could you not look at this face and smile?

Since Kane died, I have really tried to do just that; seek happiness. I mean the one thing in my life that was the core source of my happiness, Kane, is no longer. EVERYTHING I found happy involved him in some way. From riding motorcycles, to grocery shopping, even the tiniest glimmer of happiness usually involved Kane. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to put him on a pedestal like some widow/ers do for their dead spouse. Not everything during our life together was roses, but I can count on one hand the times weeds invaded our rose garden. Not bad for 7 years together, eh?

Right after he died, I immersed myself in work. I had a great, high paying job I actually enjoyed going to every morning. Like all good things, that came to an end 3 months after he died. I was laid off. FUCK! What do I do now? Being alone all day in the house, with nothing to do but let my mind wander. This can't be good. And there is only so much Farmville and solitare one can play. I reverted back to the things that we had once shared, thinking maybe if I do these things again, even though he isn't there to share with me, I can still find joy? Not so much. The store was so boring without him as I had no one to yell "INCOMING!!!" to as I threw something from across the isle at him to put in the cart. Or to defuse a mock tantrum he created because I told him to put back something he placed in the cart (when he thought I wasn't looking) that wasn't on our list - and that he had 3 of at home already. Oh, the looks we got! Priceless!

Starbucks just wasn't the same, either. I don't go there for the coffee, I go there for the ambiance, of which was suddenly slacking sans the presence of Kane. I could carry on a conversation with myself about anything and everything under the sun and beyond for hours while nursing a venti red-eye, but I really didn't want to add getting kicked out of Starbucks to my list of places I was kicked out of. I would silently sit and read, and finish a book. Then have to go to Barnes & Noble for a different book to which was another place we frequented (and I tried to avoid after he died). Thx, shitty economy for helping me with that one. I refuse to drive 20 miles just to visit a bookstore because all the ones in my area are closed!

Even the one thing I liked most, the one thing responsible for Kane and I getting together, wasn't the same. Riding cup cake on a motorcycle was fun, don't get me wrong, but it just wasn't as enjoyable when the rider wasn't Kane. I missed stopping at a light, him kicking the bike in N to look back at me, or placing his hand on my leg while riding down the 101. It was sad to watch as all the things I once enjoyed, evading me. But then again, they weren't really the same things I once enjoyed, were they? Because something, err, someone was missing.

Eventually, I got my groove back. I told myself, "self, you have got to knock this shit off! He's gone, he's not coming back, and alienating yourself from the world isn't going to bring him back. Just deal with the fact that you are alone." Well, I didn't want to deal with being alone. Enter Meetup.com. So many interesting things to meet up about, new people to meet, new experiences! W0ot! Of course, after a year of drama, sadness, and hurt, I nixed that, too.

I tried traveling next. I have been to more places in the last 2 years then I have in my entire life. San Francisco (3x), San Jose (2x)/MotoGP, Napa & Sonoma (2x), SLO/Central Coast (2x), Mexico, D.C./Maryland, San Diego, and most recently NYC (and surrounding areas). I have seen and done some amazing things. I should probably write a travel guide. But traveling also brought some sadness and drama (getting car sick in Napa, getting flipped off by a muslim woman in D.C.), and of course, the lonely nights abroad were a BITCH, too!

San Francisco                                                MotoGP

Napa                                               Central Coast

 Mexico                                                      D.C

 San Diego                                                    NYC

And, yes. I took all of these picutres.

As I look back on things, I realize they never lasted. Boredom after excitement (Meetup.com), seeing no happiness in shopping any more (grocery stores), always having to fly home after an amazing trip (see previous paragraph & pictures), etc., only left me with feelings of things I want (perpetual happiness) and don't want (drama, hurt, sadness). Alas, Ohhhh, Shiny! Syndrome at its fullest. Oh, that looks fun! Do that for a while then have to come home, Oh, that looks fun! Ok, that didn't last, what's next?

What exactly is my purpose? To learn and try as many things as I can before I die to gain street creds in heaven when I do die? And when do I get to put my extensive knowledge I've gained over the last 2 years into action? You know, actually use what I learned (there's a concept!), settle down, and try and apply things in the next chapter in my life, sans Kane. I'm soooo ready for something that will last! I'm qualified, Universe, just give me a chance!