Welcome to my wonderful, terrible, soap opera sit-com world.
Friday, November 28, 2003
Happy (belated) Thanksgiving, all!
Sorry I haven't updated, we've been trying to get this house put together into a home, see friends on the holiday, and actually "do" our first Thanksgiving together. I'll give more updates later, this morning we are hitting the road to go see my grandma in Cottonwood, AZ for our own little personal Thanksgiving.
Love to all. Yeah, even you.
Monday, November 24, 2003
S. is HERE!
And let me tell you what, I think I speak for both of us when I say we are both excessively happy about it. Wow.
So Friday we packed and packed and packed and then Saturday we went to get the U-Haul truck and got over to the apartment around 8:30. It was cold. I mean, it was bone chilling fucking cold. At one point we had the windows and the doors open in the apartment and I would have to say that we were probably looking at about 60 degrees inside the apartment, and I wasn't exactly dressed for "cold weather." It was windy and partly cloudy for part of the morning, and it was just cold. We got the kitchen all packed up and ready to go and while I was doing that, S. loaded the whole front of the truck with boxes. By the time Ron showed up, there was only furniture to put in the truck and loose stuff to put in the Rodeo.
It took the guys about an hour and 45 minutes to get the truck loaded up and then Ron went home and we drove the truck here to the house, where Maury met us here for the unload. The unload took us a little under an hour. We had the truck back to the U-Haul guy by 7pm, and then we ate some Mexican food like we hadn't eaten in a week and came home and unpacked a couple little things, but mostly just sat around. :)
I think some of the most fun part of the whole moving in together thing is when you're getting rooms "done" and things are starting to look like they are actually in place. Well, things are going pretty well in that regard. S. got the dart board hung and the front room TV and stuff all set up, and the office is basically ready to go. The guest room is going to need about an hour's worth of work. Me? I've got about four days worth of laundry to do, because when I was moving stuff around I started losing track of what was clean-and-still-in-the-basket and what was dirty-and-ready-to-wash, so it's all in one humongous pile on the floor of the bedroom.
Things are going beautifully well. I've got some before- and- after pictures going on and maybe I'll post some of them when it doesn't look like a cardboard box factory around here!
And tonight I get to come home and S. will be here already, our first real post-work evening at home. Yay!
We met my mom on Sunday for lunch for her birthday and had a nice conversation. I think her meds are kicking in, which is a good thing. Finally, it means she's maybe going to be calming down a little. I think she is putting forth a huge effort to be nice, which in a way makes me feel bad because I don't think she should have to try so hard to be nice to her kid, but what am I gonna do? I'll take what I can get and keep my guard up.
What else - S.'s mom told me I should call her "mom," so I'm willing to start doing that. She gave me a recipe for some kind of jello salad for Thanksgiving that is something traditional in his family - it's got lemonlime jello and Dream Whip and pineapple and ... shredded cheese? And it's topped with Miracle Whip dressing? Okay. I'll try it. I'll try anything once. S. says it's real good, so I guess I'll have to see. :) Sounds like Ambrosia with an interesting twist. Shredded cheese. Anyone? Anyone?
The cats are, of course, not getting along all that well. We didn't exactly expect them to be one big happy family quite yet, but this fighting on the bed in the middle of the night stuff has got to stop.
So how was everyone else's weekend?
Friday, November 21, 2003
S. is behind me.
Yes, in the same room.
Typing at HIS computer in HIS new computer room at OUR house.
And I know he's editing his blog.
So I thought I would beat him.
I win, honey. I'm first.
We're living together.
Life is good.
Thursday, November 20, 2003
Okay. So. I am so fucking far behind at this point, I am never going to get caught up in time. I suppose I am just relegating myself to the fact that this house is going to be behind schedule and we're just going to have to get it all put away ourselves.
So many things have been out of my control this week - this world is really trying to teach me a lesson. I'm almost shudering to think of what might be coming down the pike that I'm supposed to get ready for, but either way it's making me ito a fucking nutjob.
Not the least of the issues at hand is, the cuntrageous bitch (thanks Lux), S.'s ex wife, who is 23 or maybe 24 by now and immature and stupid and ignorant, is now blocking his emails. So, he can't email her to check on the status of some very important financial issues she's supposed to be taking care of, his emails are all bouncing back. I emailed her from an alternate, anonymous account and the emails went through just fine with no bouncing notices, so she's only blocking him. The thing is, we really shouldn't get legally married until these issues are taken care of, because she's hurting S.'s credit every month it goes on and we don't want to bring my credit down, too.
Which means now we might have to get our lawyer involved and pay her to start taking this over, and it's just more money that we'll have to spend. Of course, right? Can't be easy, can it? Naw, not for Rose and S., can't be easy.
So, last night in a fit of rage, I "crafted" an email to send to her from an alternate account and follow up registered mail, but needless to say it's frosting my ass.
In addition, I'm working on some projects at work that are in that "hurry up and wait" stage, and I'm waiting on 4 things from 20 people (it feels like, I'm sure it's not quite that bad) and I can't seem to get any of the projects completed.
And then there's S.'s ransacking of his own apartment and my ransacking of this house to make sure everything works, everything fits, and everything's good.
I'm a crazy lady this week, and so far there isn't much I can do about it or do to comfort myself from all the stuff that's out of my control.
I know it will be better on Saturday after we get all of S.'s stuff at least here to the house, and then we can tackle one room at a time... but in the meantime, I'm ticked off that I've had to work until 10pm every night this week in addition to my regular job, I'm ticked off that I haven't even done a load of laundry in preparation...
I'm going to have to come home tonight from work, clean the kitchen, clean the front room, finish cleaning the guest room, and THEN pack a bag and get on my way to S.'s apartment (where there was a shooting right around the corner last night, just another reason he needs to move) and crash there so we can work all day on Friday getting everything done.
I'm just tired. And I have to fight through the tired, work through the tired, battle through the tired.
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
It's about damn time this happened.
I'm very happy for all of the people of all sexual orientations in this country who are one step closer to being able to be married and enjoy the rights and benefits of the marital union in this country.
Keep the faith.
Monday, November 17, 2003
My my my my FOTOLOG!
Yes, I have started a fotolog.
wroteasongaboutit. wannahearit? hereitgoes.
Go see my fotolog
I like photography
I like to take pictures
the first one's of me.
DON’T WANNA BE MY FRIEND NO MORE
WANNA BE SOMEBODY ELSE
This week is going to be insane. Can I just say that? I N S A N E this week is going to be. But as Yoda said, do or do not, there is no try.
Which means I – or we – are just gonna have to do. And do and do and do and do and do and do and do.
So here is my new, interesting, sub-list of crap that needs to be done this week. This is before the “big move” on Saturday.
Wow. That’s a lot of stuff. Guess I should start tonight. Sigh. I’m going to S.’s on Thursday night and Friday morning we’re going to get up and we’re going to just hit it like crazy, packing and loading things into my Rodeo and maybe making a trip or two(!) to the house so there’s not a ton of things to put in the truck.
I want him to feel at home in our home. I want him to have room for all his stuff. I’m going to have to throw away just as many things as he’s going to have to throw away, I think. And we are going to have a huge garage sale.
Can you tell, I’m already trying to get myself worked up for it?
You Say It’s Your Birthday
Wednesday is my mom’s birthday. Gonna send her some flowers to her work on Wednesday and then give her what she wants, which is a photo album, and we are going to take her out for some kind of a meal on Sunday. The doctor upped her dose on her meds so we’ll have to see how that all works out.
S. also wants to sit down with her and have a talk – outside of the context of her birthday – about us, and this whole thing that is going on. Since you know, we’re getting married, and she’s chosen to object.
S.’s mom did not object. As a matter of fact, his mother wants to BE HERE for the “wedding” in January, which we weren’t really going to have. I’m surprised and flabbergasted that she would want to be here, but I am leaning towards telling them all that we’re just going to elope and we’ll do something later down the road. There are too many things we are trying to spend our money on. Too many things.
We want to buy a laptop so S. can take it with him to school, so we can have a laptop in general for lots of fun things, and because he might be able to use it at his new job from time to time. So we’ve been looking at this laptop, and I think it’d be a good deal. It’s certainly one of the best deals going right now, especially with free shipping. We should be able to save that much money, together, in a month, which means we might be able to get it.
Then he can email me, webcam (not the naughty kind, silly rabbit) and we can communicate in addition to our phone calls while he’s gone, from the privacy of his room. It’ll be nice, and it’ll be a nice addition to our tech geek equipment. Plus he can use it to watch DVD’s on and stuff while he’s away.
There are things that have to get done to the house. Some limited painting, which I fear I will no longer be able to do (paint allergy), the patio roof needs to be fixed, the yard could use a professional once-over.
I am thinking about changing my cellphone plan to see if I can get an add-on so he can ditch his evil Cricket phone that doesn’t work anywhere. He’s going to have to get rid of it anyway when he goes to school, since they don’t have it where he’s going. But if we had an AD&T cellular phone on the same account, maybe he’d get a deal calling home or whatever, combine minutes on the plan or something for relatively cheap. We’ll have to see. I’m sure they have AT&T Wireless wherever we’d need to move. So it could move with us.
And I want to take a vacation. Goddammit, I want to take a real, true vacation somewhere fun and nice and enjoyable where we don’t have to stress. I wish we could feel like we were doing that. I wish we could feel like it was something we could do, but we just can’t right now. Our big vacation together has been camping for three days in the mountains. Which was nice and everything, but I’m thinking more along the lines now of a nicely appointed hotel room with a Jacuzzi tub.
And maybe an in-room Swedish massage.
And some nice room service.
And a good sushi meal.
Yes. Yes. Vacation.
Sunday, November 16, 2003
Did you ever see the show Ally McBeal? I think everyone is familiar with it. From the first episode of that show to the last one, I was in love with it and I almost never missed a show. If I missed it, I taped it and I would watch it over and over again. When it hit syndication, I thought I was in heaven. I loved that show. Ally McBeal. I loved it.
I was Ally.
I had this connection with that character that had me in tears almost every time the show was on. I mean, honestly, I think I cried every week. There was so much about the way they wrote that character that I could see in myself. Aside from not being a size negative-3 dress, and the size of my ample rack compared to her overly thin bod, a great deal of what I saw in that character - what we all saw in her - was me. How she could talk to herself, have entire conversations and work things out from beginning to end. Tempermental. Remember when she used to be on a date with the guy and picture the dump truck flinging her, or the date, into the dumpster?
But one of the things I always related to, something that always got me right between the gills, was how she was always looking for "the one." She thought she had "the one" in Billy, her high school sweetheart who was now married to another woman, and of course they all worked in the same office, so she'd be cursed for life.
But she was always looking for that "one." That one special someone, who was just out there milling around the world there, waiting to bump into her on the street and whisk herself off to a life that she couldn't even comprehend.
So today, S. (who updated his blog again) is on call and he's out at the base working on restoring power or water or heat or cooling to some building or other, and I am sitting here at his apartment, and Ally McBeal was on the FX network in reruns. So of course I had to watch it.
So here's the thing. This episode in particular was just chock-full of the things that used to make me cry. This episode was the one where Ally was in the grocery store and tripped some evil bitch of a woman over a can of pringles, and then got called before the bar because they were going to suspend her. And in the mayhem in the grocery store she had picked up a tube of spermicide and had put it in her pocket, too embarrassed to be seen carrying it through the store, and forgot she had it in her pocket and walked out with it. So. Assault a woman in the store and steal some spermicide.
And the thing about that, that touched me, was that she stole the spermicide as if it were a lottery ticket - thinking, what happens if I meet the man of my dreams while we're walking down the street, and we look at each other and we just know that we are meant for each other, and we come back to my place to make passionate love, well I'd better have a tube of spermicide.
So. If you were me even a year or so ago, that would have been enough to start the waterworks. But on top of it all it was this strange reinforcement that her life had been this string of failed relationships and she felt as far away from ever meeting the right guy as she'd ever been, and now she was airing all this dirty laundry out to a bunch of people who judged her just because she was a little different.
Normally I'd be bawling. I used to sit in front of the television and cry, and cry, and cry. When I was married, I would sit in the living room WITH MY HUSBAND sitting next to me, and I would always just not be able to get away from that show without sobbing uncontrollably every time she had those types of revelations about her relationships, and her life, because that's how I felt. I was in a marriage where I thought I was going to be at the end of my rope forever, and I'd just never know what it felt like to truly feel loved, and to truly have it feel right. I never thought I would truly feel love. I thought it was for other people, strange lucky individuals who won the lottery of love and must be special, unlike anyone else on the planet. And surely, I was going to have that kind of practical marriage, that type of "gotta get things done" relationship rather than a passionate, loving, caring relationship.
Then Ally became my anthem after my divorce, because I would sit in front of the TV with a glass of wine watching Ally... and I started to use that time as productive time. Building put-together furniture, cleaning out the freezer (I can see the tv from my kitchen), doing laundry, grooming the pets, packing boxes... You name it, I did it... just me and Ally. Me and Ally, two strong independent single women who had never found love and might never find it, just us against the world. And every week I'd have to take my break from whatever productive thing I was doing, and cry. And I'd cry and cry and cry, sometimes I'd just curl up on the couch and sob uncontrollably when it was all done, because I was this woman, this woman who coudln't hold a relationship together for anything, but who could manage to hold evrything else together.
Me and Ally. Alone forever.
So. Every time I watched the show, and by the last year it was in syndication as well as on once a week "new," every time I'd watch the show, I'd cry. Because I felt her pain and I just knew that I was one of the lowly slobs who was going to suffer forever in practical, logical unrewarding relationships, because it's my job to be there for everyone else and I was never going to find that lottery ticket.
Even when I was dating people in the year after my divorce, no matter how much I liked them or how much I thought there might have been some kind of future there, I would still sit in front of the TV and cry, because that was the true situation. Deep down I knew it wasn't right, deep down I knew it wasn't "the one," deep down I knew I was never going to know what it felt like, so me and Ally, we would dream about it together.
So back to this morning, today in November 2003, I'm sitting here in front of the TV and I'm watching Ally talk to Renee about how she got this tube of spermicidal jelly because she wanted to be ready in case The One ever did really show up - it was her lottery ticket. A mechanism that allowed her to dream about what might be, what could happen, what - if she ever really got to have her way - would make her life complete and make her feel like one of the lucky few.
And I didn't cry.
I actually caught myself sitting here thinking, "Wow. I remember what that felt like." What the hell? I remember what that FELT like? As in, the past tense? I know what it USED TO BE LIKE when I thought that was never going to happen for me, but NOW IT'S DIFFERENT?
Every once in a while, we get these little revelations. The world rains down on you and then it gives you something to put some faith in, something to hold in your hand and think, "My shit ain't so bad, man." And this was one of those moments.
I remember what it USED TO BE LIKE to think I'd never be happy, that I'd never really be in love, that the practical and logical would win out over the head over heels passion, and that I'd get by without it. And now here I am in this shared world where not only am I head over heels in love with the man of my dreams, but I also share the burden of the logical and the practical. I think it would be unhealthy to have one without the other... and I always had the practical without the head over heels. And if I had the head over heels without the practical and the logical, well then, that would be doomed too.
But now I don't cry at Ally McBeal. I feel for her, and I feel bad for her, and I can say I've been there, but with the love and support and the strength that my wonderful S. gives me, I now know what it's like to hold a winning lottery ticket. I know what it's like to be loved so strongly and love so strongly that one of the only things that matters is that we get to be together. I'm one of the luckiest people in the world to find someone who compliments me the way he does, and whom I compliment as well.
And now I am watching Martha Stewart, and I still want to kick her ass. Who's with me?
Friday, November 14, 2003
NO, YOU CAN'T TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME.
I'm still sad, and I'm angry, and I'm upset.
So here's why.
I have concluded that the reason why I am really Really REALLY taking this thing hard - my mom not "approving" of impending marriage - is because I desperately believe that this is the one true right good thing, and I don't see how she couldn't see it.
All my life, the family hasn't approved of anything, and it's given me a relatively thick skin. I think you'd agree, if you haven't been through what I've been through, some of the things I post here would be enough to crush someone. If your loving caring mom one day called you obese and disgusting, well, how would that make you feel? But me, I've had this going on my whole life, so it's no big deal.
Here's the thing. I can't even find a kernel of truth in what they're saying to me. I can't. I see no productive reason to postpone the wedding any longer than we have chosen to (yes, we've set a date, I'll reveal that below).
And I see no reason to wait, and I see no possible repercussion of this marriage that won't be able to be overcome.
People with good credit marry people with bad credit all the time, and there are precautions you can take to make sure your credit doesn't get bad. People get divorced and re-married right away all the time, and while sometimes we think they're idjits, sometimes we're just happy for them. Cases in point, two of my friends who got married shortly after his drawn out divorce was final, but they'd been together going on 2 years... and my ex husband, who was married a whopping one month after he moved away from Phoenix and four months after his divorce was final... so he got married in July and we were only estranged since December. Now that's psycho.
But S., who wanted a divorce for two years of his five year marriage, was estranged from his wife for six months before filing for divorce, and who has been divorced since May, well, yeah, he's rushing into it. Bullshit. Bullshit, I say.
The only reasons I can come up with for them giving me hell is they don't want me to be happy. And that's just not going to work.
But I'm amazingly sad that they can't even be happy for me, since I'm genuinely happy and not just settling.
All my life I settled. And now I'm not settling. And they still aren't happy for me.
Time to live for me. I just wish it didn't make me so sad.
Oh. The wedding date will be 01/03/04, the one year anniversary of our first date, when we met up at Applebee's at 27th Avenue and Bell in Phoenix and drank beer and ate potato skins and jabbered until they kicked us out of the restaurant, and then went to Denny's and drank coffee and laughed until 4:00 a.m.
Thursday, November 13, 2003
FROM THE MIND OF ONE SICK ANIMAL WHO CAN'T TELL THE DIFFERENCE
AND GETS STUPIFIED.
So my mom decided to finally "reveal" that she doesn't approve of the marriage plans.
Among her reasons:
1) "S. isn't healed from his divorce."
2) "That's one of the immature things about him, it's obvious he's not ready to get married again yet."
3) "His [bad] credit will sink you."
4) "He can't support you."
5) "His ex wife is still looming in his life."
6) "You're desperate to get married." (meaning me, Rose.)
I started asking questions after many of these intelligent tidbits were thrown out into the conversation, and things only got worse from there.
Here's kind of how the convo went.
Mom: You don't have to like me.
Rose: I'm getting married and moving away from here in six or seven months. I'd really rather have you involved in some of this in a positive way instead of calling you from the courthouse to tell you we signed the papers and we're married.
M: Then you should wait to get married.
M: You picked such a terrible time to get married, the holidays, end of year stress, so many things going on. Why don't you wait until May! Get married when it's beautiful outside!
R: When I'm selling my house, moving 1500 miles away, trying to find a job in a new city, working with movers and the military to get everything done, quitting my job, flying to Oklahoma to try to find a house to rent, that's when I should get married? Because it'll be less stressful then?
M: That's not what I meant.
R: You said I picked a stressful time of year to get married and that I should get married in May "instead." That's not what you meant?
M: You're twisting what I said. I just wish you weren't rushing into it.
R: D___ and J____ dated for six months before he proposed.
R: And then they were engaged for six months and got married.
R: So... what's the difference between them dating for a year and getting married, and me and S. dating for a year and getting married?
M: it's completely different.
R: Why? Because J made more money?
M: Well... J made less money than your sister when they got married, I don't think she really knew that.
R: What? And didn't he have credit problems too?
M: Yeah, but she didn't know -
R: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. So my sister got married to a man and she didn't know how much money he made, and she didn't know he had credit problems, until after they were married?
M: Something like that. But -
R: And that's better why? I'm about to marry a man who has showed me his bank account, and all of his bills, and I know everything about his financial situation, plus I know just about everything about him in general, and that's WORSE than marrying someone without knowing how much money they make or that they have bad credit? What?!
M: J was never married before!
R: J was 37 years old and never married because he was never ready to commit, then he's 37 and realizes he wants a family and some stability and proposes after six months, and that's a good thing.
R: Nothing desperate about that.
M: Uh -
R: But S. and I dating for a year and DESPITE the circumstances where he should probably not want to get married again so soon, he loves me and wants to marry me, and that's bad.
M: He's not healed from his marriage, he needs time to heal.
R: So just to recap. J and D married at one year: Good. R and S married at one year: Bad. J doesn't disclose financial situation to D., good. S. discloses everything to R., bad. J makes less money than D, good. S makes same or more money than R, bad. Because S has been married once already.
M: uh - Maybe we should talk about this when I'm not so tired and frustrated. Maybe you just won't be able to talk to me about it at all. The bottom line is whether or not I approve you are probably going to do what you want, but I think you should let him go to school and see where life takes everyone, and then make the marriage decision when he comes back.
So, that's that. I figure if I let him go off to school without being married, my family would pressure me daily into dating someone else, trying to find someone new, or convincing myself that he wasn't the right one for me... when he's not around to support me or defend himself. I wonder if she realizes that this pressure is only going to make me run out and get married as soon as fucking possible, because if we are already married when S. goes to school (besides the fact that, that is the plan anyway for many valid, practical and romantic reasons)… it means the point will be moot if they think they’re going to try to convince me not to get married.
My family is insane.
Wednesday, November 12, 2003
Last night while I was working my 2nd job, I started to get back spasms in my left shoulder. It was not fun, and I did not like it.
So I took a half of a prescription pill meant to help mewith those and finished up work and went to bed.
Now I'm tired this morning. Damn this prescription medication, I hate it.
It's raining here, I am going to see my mother tonight, I'm going to work where my boss comes back after being gone for two weeks, it's all good. But I'm tired. And once again, hungry.
Need coffee. Need food.
Tuesday, November 11, 2003
One of the things I told myself when I started this blog is that I wasn't going to censor myself. So I'm not. I'll just try to make it short and sweet, which ain't how I operate.
When my husband (!!!) gets overwhelmed, his ability to perform normal daily tasks slows to a crawl and in some cases, a complete stop. Things just don't get done. It becomes a game of "if I ignore this will it go away," even though we know full well that it will not go away.
This is normal, it's human nature, and it is how many people deal with stress, but it's starting to frustrate me.
Across town there sits an apartment full of stuff. This apartment full of stuff needs to be gone through, sorted, some things need to be thrown away, things need to be wrapped and packed and boxed, and they need to be moved across town to the waiting house.
This needs to happen on or before the 22nd of November, which for those of us counting, is thirteen (13) days away.
There, at the apartment, in this stress-laden overwhelmed zone, boxes sit empty, piles of stuff halfway-explored sit awaiting their final destination, and very little has been done.
The tasks on the 22nd are going to involve moving furniture and possibly some heavy boxes. After that, we will have to go back before the 30th to clean the apartment and make it suitable upon move-out, and turn in the keys. Somewhere in there we have to find a way to do Thanksgiving and go visit my grandmother out of town.
Change of address forms must be filled out and filed. Cable TV and internet and phones and utilities must be disconnected. Email addresses must be switched from one account to another. Banks and creditors must be notified of new addresses.
None of this is being done.
It's out of my control, all I can do is be supportive, and encouraging, and try to understand. Unfortunately I cannot just drive over there and start packing stuff up. I can't decide what stays and what goes, what gets sold and what gets held on to. I can't do that because I am busy making room for my husband and his belongings in our house. Across town.
To him I say: I am here to help you however you need. Just say the word. But we can't spend another two day marathon frantically packing and then two or three trips in the Rodeo with the straggling things like we did in the last move. It's a 35 mile one way trip. Let's drive as little as possible. Tell me what I can do. Efficiency. Organization. These are my strengths. What can I do? I know you are very busy and I know you have a million things raining down upon you, but I also know I want you SHARING THIS HOUSE WITH ME! Like, yesterday! I know you do too. It's just all so much.
Don't get me wrong, I understand human nature. But as they said in When Harry Met Sally - "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to begin as soon as possible."
Monday, November 10, 2003
Please visit my guestmap!
C'mon, humor me already. It's not like I have tons of flashing little linky goobery stupid gaga things floating around the blog. This is actually cool. Do it. Obey.
Seriously, since Google started dealing with blogger entries a little differently (not showing the intro lines for the blogsite, but only the URL) my hits have dropped off but the folks who are coming here, are coming through mostly bookmarks. So although I have lots and lots of folks reading, I'm still interested in seeing where they're from. From the URL list on sitemeter, they're all over the place.
So! Do it! Mark yourself!
I’M GONNA BOIL OVER INSIDE TODAY
DEPRESSION’S GOT A HOLD ON ME
DEPRESSION’S GONNA KILL ME -- Black Flag
My mom is losing it. Big time. Seriously.
I just spent half an hour on the phone with my sister discussing the “situation” with my mother. Like we can even call it a “situation” right now, I guess, but what else are we going to call it.
How did this start, you ask? Well it started many years ago but my sister’s confrontation with my mom started this weekend. We were at Rock Springs, which is a little cowboy-biker diner place up on the highway where we meet my grandparents half-way for breakfast when we want to get together. My grandparents never made it due to a road closure, and so it was me, S., my sis and her husband and 2 kids, and my mom and my cousin.
After waiting for about an hour for my grandparents, we chose to have a meal. Nothing, of course, was good enough for my mom – she even started to throw a tantrum in the middle of the meal and shoved her plate away. When asked if she would finish her meal, she had some snide reply about how it wasn’t worth finishing. The service was awful, the food was awful, everything was awful, according to my mom. So S. and I pitched in for our lunches, and my mom just kept staring at the check and counting money. I was fairly sure I had put in enough but figured maybe I mis-counted, so I said to my mom, ‘Hey can I see the check?” This is after two straight minutes of her just counting and re-counting the money and staring at the check, putting tip money on the table and then picking it up… she turned, yanked the check from me and said, “DO I OWE YOU MONEY?!”
Shocked (but why?) I said, “No, I was worried we might owe YOU money. Is there a problem with the check?”
“There’s no problem,” my mom said, “unless I owe you money there’s no reason to go into it.” And she huffed up to the front counter to pay the bill.
I looked at my sister who just shrugged and said, “You can’t take it so personal,” and I just said, “It’s like this every day. Whatever.”
In the parking lot, my sister pulled my mom aside and stood her in front of me and told her that she though I was owed an apology, and that she was amazingly rude to me. Of course my mom found a bunch of reasons for why she wasn’t out of line, and after stating them all, said, “so I guess I’m apologizing.” I just said, “Thanks,” and we got in the car and left. I did not talk to them again all weekend.
This morning my sister phoned me on my way to work to talk to me about how terrible and awful this situation is with my mom, and I guess it’s worse than either one of us might have imagined.
According to my sister, not only is my mom miserable all the time and exhibiting classic symptoms of depression, but there are things you might not notice unless you were living there with her for two weeks. Like, she’s not eating. And people doubt whether or not eating disorders are hereditary?!
So anyway, my mom isn’t eating, we can’t confirm if she’s taking her medicine, and she’s amazingly miserable in her life. To the point that my sister is ready to tell her NOT to go to Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving or Christmas, to tell her that she should stay here because my sister doesn’t want to deal with her. But if she has exhibited suicidal thoughts, which she has, then leaving her here alone for Christmas doesn’t exactly seem like the right thing to do. I know my sister would like to “teach her a lesson,” but I’m not going to Pennsylvania if my mom isn’t going. Shit, man, I don’t even want to go if she IS going. It’s my first holiday season with my new husband and I don’t want to be fucking gone. So. There’s that.
So I guess on Wednesday we are going to talk to my mom. Sigh.
Stop the drama, please, cuz I wanna get off.
Update to the “SHIT I NEED TO GET DONE, LIKE, YESTERDAY” list.
It appears I have crossed some things off the list. I wish I had crossed more of them off. A couple of them are close to being crossed off, some are just ongoing stuff. Maybe I should make a new list.
Ah, Mondays. Gotta love ‘em.
Friday, November 07, 2003
Things are straightening themselves out.
First of all, for the atypical secondary glimpse, S. updated his blog. So, that's always a good sign.
Second of all, S. and I were having a conversation last night and it appears that after next weekend's standby stint, he's going to try to be spending more time over here. Which means, maybe he'll live over here a few days that week and make the commute out to work just to start to get a handle on it. That makes me immensely happy, because it helps me feel like we are one day closer to truly living together as husband and wife.
I got some serious house cleaning done last night and when I went to work on the tapes I had, you can't hear them. I still got to bill an hour's worth of listening to crappy shit tapes, but I'm waiting to hear what they're going to want me to do with them. Sigh.
My mom finally wrote me back. Looks like we are all going to see my grandma on Saturday morning, she just can't tell me a time yet. She did sign the letter "Love, mom," so I don't know what that means exactly. I suppose I'll know better on Saturday morning when they're all busy critiquing how I'm dressed.
And I slept like a rock. I think it's time to light the furnace. Time to light the fucking furnace in Arizona, man, I can't even believe it. It went from 100 degrees during the day to 70 during the day in a span of two weeks. TWO WEEKS. Can't we even get a month so have low utilities before we have to start spending gas?
Gimme Whatcha Got
I hate to do it, but something I read on another site got me thinking. On my friend Alex's blog the top post is about the early coming of Christmas. In the comments section, Mala commented that Christmas in the U.S. doesn't have much Christian about it. I don't know if I can comment as to that, but I can comment as to what someone replied.
There's a reply in there about doing charitable work and the implication that THAT is what is Christian about the holiday. But then there's just vague language attached to that, no real discussion of what's being done in a charitable vein or what's Christian about it.
First of all, do kind acts and charitable works around the Christmas holiday time mean that you're acting "Christian?" Is the definition of "Christian", 'Charitable?' What do you feel is Christian about Christmas?
And second of all, do you plan to do anything charitable this year around the holidays? If so, what? None of this "I'm going to be so busy with charitable stuff..." Be specific. Let's see what you do. Here's a list of the things I do, plan to do or hope to do. And I share it here because it's things I like to do, it's things that help fulfill me. Not because I'm bragging or judging.
I've made no bones in the past about my work with domestic violence shelters and foundations for children in crisis.
I also continue to donate a portion of my paycheck to foundations that help children in crisis.
I will, this year as I do just abou every year, take a care package to the domestic violence "safe house" that's about two miles from my house, containing makeup and lovely smelly soaps and perfumes and things like that, since this time of year people think they can all dump their fucking junk off at the safe house like it's some kind of garage sale and they can call it a charitable donation.
A little over a year ago I did Habitat for Humanity for a chid crisis shelter here in town and if they need an extra hand or two this year during the season I'm going to help them out.
And as always, I will make a trip to the grocery store and help fill up the buckets for the food bank. S. and I are here alone for Thanksgiving, which opens up even more avenues for volunteering. So perhaps we will do something.
And, my mom's work always manages to adopt a family in need or some kind of shelter, and we all dress up like santa and elves and go deliver presents to the kids and stuff like that, so even if I'm not talking with her I will probably do that.
I don't think that means I'm acting Christian -- Christians don't corner the market on charitable donations or activities, or on doing the right thing. I think it means I'm acting like a good person. IF these kinds of efforts were prevalent year round, I'd participate year round, but unfortunately 95% of the people in this country only think about caring for others or giving back when they see the first Santa in front of Target ringing a bell for the Salvation Army. The domestic violence stuff is a year-round deal for me.
What do YOU do when it's Christmas? How about when it's not? How do you give back?
Thursday, November 06, 2003
I am wayyyyyyy too nice.
I mean it. I guess the more I think about things, I figure that I am probably honestly one of the nicest people I know. I’m just one big soft spot. The kind in your heart, not the kind on your head, thanks. Hey! Don’t press on the soft spot!
All joking aside, it’s true. I don’t know if my blog conveys what a softie I really am, and I’m sure my ability to jump into the argument with fists flying doesn’t help that image at all. But I’m really very giving and caring, and I want to fix stuff for people who mean something to me, and I’m very big on having strong and fruitful relationships with people.
Which is why this thing with my mother is making me completely insane.
She’s still not talking to me after the email I sent her. I emailed her yesterday, and the convo went something like this:
Rose’s email: Hi mom, can you please tell me what time you, D___ and the kids are going to go see Grandma on Saturday? Thanks, Rose.
Mom’s reply: I really don’t even know.
Rose’s reply reply: Thanks.
So that’s about the size of that. My sister phoned me from my mom’s house on Monday afternoon, after our argument and after her TELEPHONE CONVERSATION WITH S. ABOUT HOW I AM:
So anyway, yeah, she phoned me after that, in the afternoon, to ask for my mom’s cellphone number because Matthew, my 2 year old nephew, stepped in a pile of red ants and they bit the fuck out of his adorable little foot, and she didn’t know what to do.
And I’m sitting here drinking my huge coffee and wondering what I can do to make it right. I keep re-reading the email. Did I disrespect her? Did I say anything that wasn’t true? Did I do something that deserves to be disowned?
Speaking of disowned, this conversation held at Applebee’s over a couple of margaritas and some potato skins and a Veggie Patch Pizza:
S.: So about your sister.
S.: Did you tell her you were disowning the family, or did she make that up?
S: Did you say anything to her about how you were just disowning all of them?
Rose: No! She’s the one that said that.
Rose: Yeah, first she said if I left my mom’s house without finishing my argument with her, that she didn’t care if she never talked to me again.
S.: Yeah, you told me that part.
Rose: Then the next morning when she called ME on my way to work, she told me that she thought I was acting like I was trying to disown my family, to disavow any involvement with them.
S.: I think you told me that too.
Rose: Yeah, so SHE is the one who said that, not me, and I told her I wasn’t disowning them. And that’s when she said that if I don’t “get right,” she’d have no problem acting like I’m not part of “her family” any more, and she said, “I’ll make sure you never have to talk to me, my husband, or your niece and nephew again.” Sounds like a threat to me.
Who’s disowning who, here? Because I’ve gained some weight and I won’t put up with their shit. Yeah, that’s the way to foster family closeness. God damnit.
So, they aren’t calling me and they aren’t talking to me. If they don’t phone us and tell us what time to go to Rock Springs to meet my grandma, we aren’t going to go but I’m going to follow up with my grandma (whom I love dearly) with an email that explains the whole situation. I don’t think that will go over very well, but I’m done dealing with all of this.
I’m very family-oriented, and I ended up with the most fucked up family on the history of the planet. I don’t get exactly how that karma was dished out, but for someone who relies on and wishes she had a close family unit, I ended up with the least fucking close family ever. I have an alcoholic dad who can’t do anything but berate me, a mom who is obviously getting completely delusional and is in need of some real, serious depression treatment and counseling, and a sister who got her way her entire life and can’t imagine what it must be like to be one of the common folk.
She actually looked at me and tried to tell me that I am getting my panties in a wad over nothing (getting married, becoming military dependent and learning everything that comes along with that, dealing with S.’s ex wife’s bullshit way beyond when we’d like to be, moving to Oklahoma, uprooting life, at 33 years old, where I might not be able to immediately find a job and where S. will be on the same salary he’s at now…) by saying that her move to Pennsylvania with her husband who’s getting a promotion and making hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, to live in a beautiful house on a huge lot with rolling green hills and lots of other yuppie families, a move which is completely voluntary and based on their desire for material acquisitions, is HARDER on her than it was on me, because she was pregnant for the move. Never mind that they got a signing bonus for moving, my brother-in-law’s job flew them out there two times to shop for houses, and paid for folks to come to the house and pack everything up – she had to do NOTHING. AND my brother in law has FAMILY THERE. So it’s not even like they are without a support structure.
Let me see, where are the differences here? Husband doubling his income, doubling the size of the house, having enough money to buy all new furniture for new sprawling house, moving into an area full of young families just like yourselves with folks who make a lot of money, with family just up the road, and being able to be a stay-home mom with all the other stay-home moms on the cul-de-sac… compared to moving ourselves to Oklahoma where we might actually cut our income in half, unsure of where we’re going to live or how we’re going to make ends meet immediately, to where we have NO family of any kind and know NO ONE in the city, and probably won’t have a house lined up to move into when we get there. Yeah, that’s equal. Fuck my sister and her inability to comprehend simple differences.
Shit man, this turned pretty mean. Maybe I should stop for a while and cool off. It started out about how hurt I am that my family is actually going to be so stubborn over this that they won’t acknowledge that they’re out of line, and that now they’re just going to slowly but surely disown me and then make it look like it’s my fault, and how badly that hurts me… and it ended up just being another way for me to tell them to fuck off.
Wednesday, November 05, 2003
It seems like I kinda write that a lot, that I'm tired, but I'm sure this is stress induced. Somehow or other I have managed to let my checkbook get ahead of where it should be, and now I'm struggling a little bit for money. Bleah. I can definitely use that extra check that should be coming. I've got to pay my electric bill today and barely have enough to cover it.
I'm just tired.
Today gonna work til about 4:30 and then I'm heading out to go see S., and I'm sure with our current financial situation we are going to eat spaghetti-o's or rice and beans or something inexpensive, and probably lay around in front of the TV talking about how stressed out we are.
But at least we'll be together.
I am, once again, tired.
Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
THIS has to be one of the the biggest fucking disgraces I have ever seen in my entire fucking life.
What the fuck is this country coming to? What. The. Fuck.
I take it back. This is also a disgrace. The owners of warehouses and businesses that are in flames, and it's being praised as a way to wipe out sin because there happens to be an abortion clinic on the same block?! Fire bad!
And this is always fun to see. Nice to know that you can't protest peacefully with a sign so your president can see your true opinion, but you can protest just outside someone's home.
And this is quite a commentary on the "freedoms" that the Men and Women of the Armed Forces are fighting for.
And here is a perfect example of how fundamentalists of any kind resort to subterfuge, lies, and deception to get their point across when they start falling behind.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'm not anti-Christian, but this kind of shit is just WRONG. That there are people out there who actually live like this amazes me, when there seem to be so many normal, sane people in this world. Do they actually make progress like this?
Well, I don't know what I did, but something good happened. The lady I do typing work for, said she doesn't think she paid me for an invoice or two in August so she's going to give me a back check. Should be around $100, and boy do I need it.
And Columbia House relieved me of the obligation that my husband signed up for before we divorced, so I don't have to send them a check for $65.00.
So, it's all good. Right? Did someone cast a money spell or something?
Monday, November 03, 2003
From: Googly Moogly Rose
Sent: Monday, November 03, 2003 12:35 PM
To: Mom (E-mail)
Every time I write this I say it's going to be short and it still ends up long. So I'm going to condense this into some very basic ideas. If it looks harsh it's because I am trying to avoid complaints that it's too long. Every time I try to say what I really want to say, it just looks like something you won't read.
So here goes.
1) I am never going to go through something like last night, again. I got ambushed by the two of you, and I've already told my sister that. If it means hanging up the phone, leaving the dinner table, or packing up and going home, I refuse to be party to negative judgmental conversations about my life, especially with people who should be focusing on improving their own lives instead of criticizing mine.
2) There is a simple reason I do not talk to you about what's going on in my life any more. When I try to tell you something positive, you make it negative, and you are hurtful and rude. When I try to talk to you about crises in my life, you are not supportive or helpful, instead you make the scenario out to be 10x more negative than it truly is and nothing productive or comforting comes out of it. Therefore, since you aren't capable of having any kind of positive conversation with me about my life, I don't volunteer information any more.
3) I can't make you happy. Nothing I could do, ever in my life, ever until the day that I die, will make you happy. You are the only one that can do that. You're miserable and you feel like your life has no purpose. That's not my fault. If I was svelte and Shawn was a millionaire, you'd still feel miserable and like your life had no purpose. I refuse to attempt to change my life for anything other than my own betterment, and that includes my health which I am working on now. But I'm not going to do things differently or give in to your negative perceptions in the hopes that it'll make you happy. I've sought your approval for 20 years, and nothing I've done has been good enough for anyone in this family. That's not going to change. I want you to be happy, but it's not my responsibility to make you happy. I can't seek your approval any more in the hopes that it'll make you happy.
4) Whether or not anyone sees it or wants to see it, I am amazingly happy right now in my relationship and I'm very excited about getting married and I'm deeply in love, and SO IS S. So I am done listening to suggestions that he might find somebody else and not love me any more, that I should stay here and let him move to Oklahoma, that I shouldn't get married, or that he should be doing something differently. Because I don't TALK to anyone in this family any more about the day to day stuff, I don't expect you to know everything about my relationship, but *I* am *HAPPY.*
I told you the last time we had an incident like this, that the only thing that was going to start to make it right was a sincere apology. I never got that from you. So I'm going to tell you again. The ONLY WAY this is going to begin to heal is if you APOLOGIZE TO ME. I will NOT apologize for being defensive and I will not apologize for leaving there, because I wasn't the one who started it. I tried to have a positive conversation with both of you and kept running into the same brick wall. No one was interested about hearing that I'm happy, you only wanted to pick my life apart so you could feel better about your own lives.
I also don't expect you to think you did anything wrong, and I don't figure you'll want to apologize to me. The ball is in your court and it's your decision. I don't have any more olive branches to extend.
This morning, D____(my sister -ed.) told me that if I don't "get right," she would be perfectly fine with me not being a part of her family any more, and never talking to me again. I think we moved beyond that point and might have made a little progress, but it still hurt me deeply. If that's how you feel, you just have to say so.
Because even if I consider it my job to make you happy, I will never, ever, ever be able to make you happy. Only you can do that, and I think about you every single day. I'm glad you're on the medication, but I think you should up your dosage, and I hope you go to the doctor and tell them that it's not helping you. I haven't seen you smile in months. I'm just done banging my head against the same wall. My life is in a period of dynamic change right now, and you can either be on board the train or not be on board the train. My life is changing with or without your approval, and whether or not you're happy about it. You just need to find some way to be happy about your own life, because I'm done trying to make you like me, and I'm done feeding into your negativity.
I love you - more, apparently, than you know or realize.
I scored 141.
I am indeed a freak.
But anyone who knows me in real life knows my affinity with songs and lyrics, and I'm definitely a "child of the 80's" being born in 1970 (early '70).
Dig it, groovy.
Courtesy of Christy.
Well, we're married, ladies and gentlemen. And although I was only participating in the ceremony, I've got to say it was a beautiful ceremony. My friends Maury, Kelly, Nancy and Kerry were in attendance, and it was a beautiful thing. I cried.
One of the things about the Pagan handfasting ceremony, when done what I would consider properly, is that it is timely, and classic, and beautiful. If anyone's interested I can post portions of the ceremony here to read, I just don't want to drag it out too far if no one rightly cares.
As a summary, we entered the circle with the other couple and went around the circle and greeted and hugged everyone around the circle - they all had their own blessings for us, and it took a few minutes to get all the way around. Every single person said something wonderful to each of us, whether they were just wishing blessings upon us, or whether they were standing there husband and wife, bound with their own handfasting cord since it was their anniversary, to tell us they wish us the longevity of their marriage (they had been handfasted 30 years that night). I was a crying wreck by the time I came to the center of the circle!
Then we stood together and held hands and they talked about the strength and power of love and marriage and what a blessed union it truly is, and how lucky we are to have found one another (and they ain't kidding). Then they took our cord, which we had woven ourselves, and wrapped us up with the cord around our wrists, which was symbolic of our bond to one another. And then they removed the cord, and it suddenly got quite realistic.
"But. You cannot always be together," they said. And untied our cord and that's when we exchanged rings as they talked about how even though we can't always be physically together, we are still connected and bound to one another through our love. We exchanged rings (which were tight since we were a little dehydrated and stuff from being out there camping all day) and said our vows to one another.
S. was so cute. Because we were supposed to kind of wing it with our vows and write them ourselves. And of the two couples, three of us were a little long winded with our vows. S. was not, but I think his vows were probably the most meaningful of anyone's. He looked at me and squeezed my hand and very simply said, "I vow: To love you. And to always take care of you. And to be your best friend." He stopped and we all looked at him, unsure if he was done, and then he said, quietly, "That's it." We all chuckled a little and I went next.
So although I'm a little in a fog, my vows went something like this: "Everything I've ever done and everywhere I have ever been, has led me to this day, right here and now. And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, with anyone else, than right here with you. We've been through so much together, and for everything else that we will go through together, I promise to be there for you and love you then, as much as I love you right now. I love you." And S. got a little teary-eyed. The other couple had quite long, intricate vows, and we cried over their vows too. Lots of crying.
And we lit a unity candle and we drank out of the same cup - ths Pagan handfasting ceremony takes advantage of most of the typical metaphors and symbols for symbolically joining folks in marriage. Binding their hands, exchanging rings, lighting unity candle, drinking from the same cup, and jumping the broom! Which we did happily.
At the Samhain festival where we were vending our wares, we had something come up that we didn't expect and now we're in a little bit of a dilemma. We did quite well considering it rained most of the day on Saturday so there just weren't that many people out there at the festival. We came home with about $160 more than we went out there with, which was quite nice. We sold a good amount of product. But we also had a guy who owns a store locally ask us if he could carry our incense and oils... but he wants them in such a quantity I don't know if we can do it. So we're exploring it, but will probably tell him that right now we just can't make it in the kind of quantity he wants it. We're so focused on making a quality product, it's something we like to do, and we don't want it to become something we don't like to do.
The minute it turns into something you HAVE to do, you start to lose your affection for the act.
Mother, do you think they'll drop the bomb?
Ah, my family. I went over at 6:30 to my mom's house to see my sister, my beautiful new niece, my 2 year old nephew, and my mom.
I showed up and my mom glared and scowled and rolled her eyes at me when she wasn't making one of those fake smiles. She's been going through some bad depression lately and is actually on medication, which is nice. But the medication isn't fixing anything yet, and I don't like to be around her anyway. Right? Right.
So my sister, who is there, I pull her aside after my mom's systematically non-verbally crapped on me for about 5 or 10 straight minutes, and ask her if Mom is upset that I'm a little late getting over there - sis insures me that it's just part of the depression and that she's been dealing with it all day.
So I try to brighten the subject and talk a little about the festival and discuss the "renaissance wedding" that we "saw" as if I were a spectator at our ceremony, and my mom can't say anything except, "Those people are freaks."
So then my sister sees my wedding ring, which I explain is a commitment ring that S. picked up for the two of us until we can get married. Which, in the legal sense of marriage, it is. Suddenly, it turned into a discussion of why the ring doesn't fit, looks an awful lot like a wedding ring, is S. going to have his financial situation taken care of before we get married, we don't need to have a wedding anyway, just go get the papers signed, what, are you punishing your mother now by just going to get the papers signed, why don't you go to Texas and get the pickup, why don't you just take care of it, why this, why that, why not this, why not that. The "conversation" culminated in my sister telling me that I should have no idea what stress is like because **SHE** spent the last six months being pregnant, raising a two year old, packing her house, moving 2500 miles away, and starting over, as well as giving birth to her daughter.
If I had had my head screwed on at that point, I would have also pointed out that she VOLUNTARILY moved that far away for money because her husband was offered a raise if they moved, that they make six figures and live in a suburbanite yuppie neighborhood in a 3000 s.f. house on a half acre lot of rolling hills, and that his company paid for not only their trips to Pennsylvania to find a house, but paid the movers to come and pack up all of their possessions and paid for it all to get moved to PA and paid for it all to get unloaded into their house. So it's not like it was any major financial stress, she voluntarily chose to do it.
We haven't chosen Oklahoma, it's been chosen for us - and we're going to have to do it on less than half the income (combined) as her husband makes, and that's including me working two jobs. And we aren't getting a raise, I can pretty much guarantee we're going to lose ground money-wise by the move.
So, I didn't say that. I just left. Actually I bit my tongue and did not "out" her to my mom as telling me she was thrilled to be leaving and away from my psycho mother, I just said, "Think for a second what it might be like to live in this city with your mother, who doesn't like you anyway and can never find anything positive to say about anything that's going on in your life, and then maybe you'll realize why I don't make a big deal out of talking about my life to you any more, and why I'm not staying here to put up with any more of this." I left.
As I was leaving, my sister said, "If you leave right now I don't care if I ever see you again." My mother just sat still and sulked and muttered something about how I am only getting married because "the government said you have to."
I left. I didn't hold my niece, who is now about two months old. I saw her sleeping in her baby swing, but that's the closest I came to holding her and might be the closest I get.
So. There it is, then. Maybe I am finally disowning my family.
I have half a mind to write my mother this morning and tell her that the wedding I described to her was mine, that my ring IS a wedding ring, and that we WILL be going to the County and getting the papers signed without all of them just to "make it legal" so I can get the fuck out of here and move as far away from them as possible.
I don't understand them and never have. And I suppose I never will.
The World Is A Scary Place
In other news, I got bit by a spider while we were camping, on the inside of my right ankle, and it hurts like a motherfucker. I've put baking soda on it and have put alcohol on it, it appears to be a little bit infected and although it happened on Saturday night between 10pm and 12am, it seems to be getting a tiny smidge worse this morning, possibly developing another blister. Does anyone have any recommendations?
No, I didn't see the spider. There were ants, spiders, scorpions, et al, out there. I did not actually FEEL the bite, only the aftermath, and before I realized what it was, I had broken the blister on the bite.
So, I'm in pain.
My job as a military wife is
to make it as easy as possible
for my beloved husband to do his job.
Where he leads, I will follow.
Husband: SSgt, USAF
Current Location: Tinker AFB, OK
Job: Self-Employed Transcriptionist
and Domestic Goddess
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