Great Googly Moogly - Doodle Doodle Dee, Wubba Wubba Wubba.

Welcome to my wonderful, terrible, soap opera sit-com world.

Saturday, January 31, 2004

ANTI-PROCRASTINATION SONG!!

A cookie to the first person who can tell me who sang that.

Anyway.

I'm home. Rolled into town just after 2pm yesterday and settled in. Have been loving up on the pets and trying to get a little bit of stuff done around the house, as impending house guest gets here tomorrow for one night. At least I don't have to have a million things done, stuff just has to LOOK mostly put together right. Phew.

School was a trip. It was good, but it was a trip. There were people there from communities ranging from 2000 people to 3.5 million people, each representing their own community for the matters at hand.

Here are some of the things I learned/noticed/discovered:

~~People~~Men from the smallest towns feel like they have to talk more than anyone else. Perhaps this is to foster a feeling of importance.

If you have a Case Study to do and the guy in your group from the smallest town suddenly shuts up and won't talk, this is bad.

If you have a Case Study to do and the guy in your group from the smallest town decides he is going to try to run the entire group, this is worse.

There will be people in the Case Study environment who want to be along for the ride, making irrelevant suggestions but not contributing anything worthwhile, and will gladly piggyback you for the grade. Killing these people is, interestingly, not an option in a classroom setting.

Finance classes are boring and sleep-inducing even if you are very interested in the rest of the career field.

One Cosmopolitan cocktail is enough to get me mildly tipsy. Two cosmopolitans is enough to get me feeling pretty happy. Two cosmopolitans on a nearly empty stomach is enough to make sure I sleep like a baby and almost sleep through the alarm the next morning.

Despite our best efforts, we were unable to prove conclusively that the "woman" from (small town in north-central state) was in fact a woman, and was not in reality a man. We did, however, diligently try. Because there was no conclusive proof either way, I still lean towards, "man."

The stereotype of "tenured professors" holds true to this day. One of the instructors actually said, to the class, in which there were obviously Native Americans present, "So. Do we have any INDIANS here today? INDIANS? Any INDIANS? Well, we're going to have a class on how to relate with the INDIANS, so all of you white guys, you probably want to make sure you're in that class."

And just because I'm in a list-making mood, here are some other things that I saw during the week.

A lady wearing attractive black slacks, conservative black shoes, a white turtleneck, a wine-red blazer, and blue-and-white striped Wicked-Witch-Of-The-West socks. Not just one color of blue, either... cornflower blue, sky blue, royal blue, navy blue, cream, ecru, beige, and white. My eyes were repeatedly drawn to her very loud socks, as I pondered where she was storing the battery pack for them.

One man from a small town in Arizona who kept speaking up (see above) drove us all insane with his need to be an expert on everything. At one point he punctuated his drawn out and boring point by saying, "My wife is a biologist, so I should know." Some of the smarter, more amazing women at that moment clunked their heads on their desks, rolled their eyes in amazement, or mockingly mimed stabbing themselves in the temple with their ball-point pens. Which one do you think I did?

The coffee at the hotel was like tar. Now I'm a coffee drinker, I likes me my coffee, I like it very much. But it was very much like tar. I poured my styrofoam cup about 2/3 full and put two creamers in it... and it was still black. So, I added two more, still black. Two more, still mostly black. I couldn't believe it. There was no hot water available to dilute at that point, so I chose to drink it. This sludge had me so hopped up I couldn't sit still through lunch. When I asked them if I could have a coffee maker in my own room so I could make my own coffee in the morning, they were happy to oblige - but sent me two days' worth of decaffeinated coffee. When I called to ask for some regular, they said, "We don't have any." I walked three blocks to Starbuck's three mornings in a row before class.

"Sambal Mashed Potato Tower" is in fact so spicy hot that it will melt your face off and cause you to be unable to effectively sleep for two days.

Febreeze is a miracle product.

If you set the mini-fridge in your kitchenette to "MAX" and then put a two-liter bottle of Diet Vanilla Pepsi in it, it will completely freeze the two liter bottle overnight and provide you with an effective weapon to combat terrorism. It will also hurt like a motherfucker if you drop it on your toe in a caffeine-seeking stupor the next morning.

Sushi tastes good even if you are 100 miles from home and had to drive five miles to get to the sushi bar.

Idiot girls working behind the desk at an extended stay hotel will tell you whatever you want to hear. The question, "I have to drive over to Speedway Rd., can you tell me if that's very far?" received an answer of, "Turn left on Campbell and it's just a couple of blocks." It was three miles. And then I had to go two more miles. To get sushi. I was very grumbly.

Women in a competitive classroom setting can be rather catty.

Two hours on the phone with your husband from a hotel room can be priceless.

School was pretty good. I graduated.

Rose typed all this stuff at 3:40 PM | #

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Wednesday, January 28, 2004

TRAVELIN (WO)MAN

Hi, everyone! I managed to find some bandwidth here in sunny Tucson, Arizona. The hotel has a business center, but the problem is it only has two computers in it so you have to fight over who gets to play and who doesn't. I finally won some time.

I just wanted to take a second and let everyone know that I had a lot of fun looking over your comments and I really appreciate it. If I get done working on this case study for class, I will come back in and reply to everyone and let you know how things are going.

As it is, I've been making notes of some fashion faux-pas and have some funny stories to share wtih you guys. School can be such a people watching exercise. Wow.

Anyway, thanks for being there for me. I really appreciate it. It was like a little burst of home in a sterile hotel room.

-Rose

Rose typed all this stuff at 12:26 PM | #

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Sunday, January 25, 2004

TUCSON, ARIZONA
RISING IN THE HEAT LIKE A MIRAGE

I will be gone for approximately one week. I am going to a special certification school in Tucson, Arizona, and will be without my own computer. It's possible the hotel has a business center and I'm going to try to find an internet cafe to stop in from time to time (not to mention to email S., et al) but I don't know how much *actual* contact I'm going to have here.

Please, don't go away! Stop back by and see me! At the very most I'll be gone until Friday but I hope to pop in periodically.

Thanks everyone, have a fabulous week.

Rose typed all this stuff at 8:54 AM | #

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Friday, January 23, 2004

FIFTY NIFTY UNITED STATES

From Christy:

Bold the states you've been in (airport or driving through only).
Underline the states you've spent the night in.
Italicize the state you're in.

I told her mine was going to be really boring…

1) Alabama, 2) Alaska, 3) Arizona, 4) Arkansas, 5) California, 6) Colorado, 7) Connecticut, 8) Delaware, 9) Florida, 10) Georgia, 11) Hawaii, 12) Idaho, 13) Illinois, 14) Indiana, 15) Iowa, 16) Kansas, 17) Kentucky, 18) Louisiana, 19) Maine, 20) Maryland, 21) Massachusetts, 22) Michigan, 23) Minnesota, 24) Mississippi, 25) Missouri, 26) Montana, 27) Nebraska, 28) Nevada, 29) New Hampshire, 30) New Jersey, 31) New Mexico, 32) New York, 33) North Carolina, 34) North Dakota, 35) Ohio, 36) Oklahoma, 37) Oregon, 38) Pennsylvania, 39) Rhode Island, 40) South Carolina, 41) South Dakota, 42) Tennessee, 43) Texas, 44) Utah, 45) Vermont 46) Virginia, 47) Washington, 48) West Virginia, 49) Wisconsin, 50) Wyoming, 51) Washington, DC

Tally:

Been through: 6
Spent night in: 15, including places I lived.

Rose typed all this stuff at 11:30 AM | #

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Thursday, January 22, 2004

ITSY BITSY TEENY WEENY

What.

The.

Fuck.

Is.

THIS?!

Not safe for work. Not safe for minors. Not safe for darned near anyone.

Can someone PLEASE tell me the point of wearing something so incredibly tiny that your pubes hang out around the outside on purpose and you can see through the mesh to reveal your nether regions? These girls have the bottom of the top resting ACROSS their boobs and hardly covering the nipples.

WHO WEARS THIS?!?!?!

And yes, although the above link masquerades as "lingerie," take a look at the Bikinis these people are selling... no coverage there, either.

If you're sensitive to pornstuffs, you might not want to click on the link. But it's a real store. Selling real stuff. By showing real pictures of kooch.

As my lovely friend Joe would say, bless his little gay heart... "HORK!"

Rose typed all this stuff at 9:50 PM | #

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SEMI-CHARMED KINDA LIFE

Thank you, kind soul who nominated me again on Blorgy for today’s post.

If you want to vote, I wouldn’t be mad. :)

Update: Blorgy is political and I get fed up with the petty bullshit. Someone nominated me and gave me a 5 (which is probably more than I deserve) and then someone gave me a 1 (which I surely didn't deserve). Bullshit, and posturing, I tell you. Bah.

Oh. And yes, the President decided he had to go to the airport – through the middle of the city – in rush hour traffic this morning. Many people at my office were late because they got completely stopped for the motorcade to pass.

I heard descriptions of Secret Service agents standing on overpasses in their overtly-cool men-in-black suits, and raincoats or panchos (it’s pouring rain here in Phoenix today) looking at the traffic stopped along the throughway.

About 2/3 of the way to work I reached the "main" intersection I was sure would be closed, since it’s the main road between where the President was staying and the airport. Somehow, I managed to squeak through without a hitch. I think I was about two minutes early, and if I had wasted any time this morning before heading out it could have been disastrous.

But, I made it to work on time.

Oh, a side note. The President ate at the Tee Pee Mexican Restaurant which is a favorite hangout of mine. I’ve eaten there with S., I’ve eaten there with Maury, I’ve eaten there with just about anyone I’ve ever cared for. My parents used to go here 35 years ago when they were dating. Orange vinyl booths (pic), Chiles Rellenos the size of a football, and great margaritas. Ultra cheap. I heard he didn’t call ahead or anything, just sat in an orange vinyl booth with Jerry Colangelo (owner of the Phoenix Suns) and had some good Mexican home cooking.

Nice to see how the other 99% lives, I suppose. I wonder if they’ll have an autographed picture of him standing there. I wonder what he ate.

AND MY COMMENTS WORK AGAIN so if someone wanted to COMMENT (thanks Lux!) I wouldn't be mad. You know. Commenting is good. It's a good thing. Comments good. Silence not so good.

You know. If you want to.

Rose typed all this stuff at 12:15 PM | #

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ONE TWO THREE, TAKE MY HAND AND COME WITH ME

So. I spent a good part of the evening chatting with S. last night from his new "posh" dorm room at Keesler AFB. It's way nicer, apparently, than what he's used to - and that's good. It'll give him a way to be a little bit comfortable while he's there. It looked like a nice hotel room, to me.

He's settled in and safe, and resting today in preparation for his first day of school tomorrow. I'm glad to know that he got there, and I'm glad to know that he's doing well. I miss him immensely.

Last night we had a long conversation about that, and he said some pretty amazing and wonderful things to me. I found out how he feels about some things, about me, that while I could have HOPED for such compliments, I really didn't know he felt like that.

He told me I'm the glue that holds this together, and he can't thank me enough for giving up so much, for going through so much, so we can have a life together. That being a military spouse is one of the hardest jobs on the planet, because *I* allow *HIM* to be able to do his job, and I sacrifice as a result. That he loves me, and cares for me, and he's always here with me even if he's not really... here with me.

I cried, and cried. I think I was more touched at that moment than possibly any moment in the last year, with the exception of when we were giving our "I DO's" at the courthouse.

I have an infinite amount of respect for military spouses who have to deal with deployments to the Middle East, or Korea, or hostile environments. I'm a lucky one - my husband is in a dorm room at a school at a domestic air force base. I can chat with him on the computer every night and I can talk to him on his cell phone every day. And 90 days is nothing when you're dealing with 180 days or more for a standard deployment, up to years away.

If you see or know a military spouse, whether their husband/wife is deployed or not... take a moment and thank them. I'm starting to experience what it's like, to have to live this ragtag day-to-day existence, not always knowing what's going to happen. It's nervewracking. I'm sure it makes for tighter families (I would be interested in what the divorce rate is for military families compared to the norm) and it teaches people to depend on one another... but it's a hard row to hoe.

Thank them, and give them some support, and be there for them if they need you. I don't want to admit that I "need" anyone, but for stupid little things like going to the tire place to get tires this weekend or eating dinner by myself at home or just sitting in a quiet empty house and needing a phone call... I'm starting to learn that I'm going to have to depend on my friends and family here to help us get through this time without me being a nervous wreck.

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In other news, my right foot hurts from my toenail coming off, and I feel like I might have lost a little weight so far, and it's pouring rain here. Pouring. Rain.

The President is in town. If he fucking tries to go to the airport, right in the middle of the city, in fucking rush hour traffic, I'm going to be one pissed off chippie. They close the roads in a 10 mile radius or some fucking thing when he's motorcading through town, and last night he was going through town at rush hour while we were all trying to get home. The freeways were backed up for an hour beyond normal time.

He better just stay in bed til we're all safe at work. It's good for the economy.

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:42 AM | #

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Wednesday, January 21, 2004

YOU MAKE MY DREAMS COME TRUE

Thank you, Shanna, for giving me the chance to chat with my husband last night and for giving him a safe spot to stay on his way to Biloxi.

After a little mishap with the telephone numbers (S. was dialing a number with transposed digits, and was starting to freak out that he couldn't reach her) I did a little googling, checked the right number, and got them in touch with one another. After what he describes as a delicious Spaghetti dinner, he settled in for a quiet evening. I'm sure Shanna can give us a better description, and couldn't be any more excited to read her take.

And this is what friends do, and this is what friends are for, and it's great.

I got to see him on her webcam last night and I cried. How emotional and girly is that? I mean, really. I was literally sobbing. He looked so good, but it started to sink in that the only way I'm going to see him for three months is through the digital camera or over a webcam like that. I'm just grateful that I had the chance to chat with him and look at his smiling face.

The road's starting to wear on him, as he was amazingly tired after only 300 miles but he had previously driven 1000 miles. Of course, he had to fight rush-hour traffic in Houston, TX yesterday and that couldn't have been fun. Stop. Go. Slow. Faster. Stop. Go. Go go go go go. Stop.

He should get to Biloxi today, and I'll be happy to know that he's settled and safe. He was going to call Keesler AFB and tell them that he was going to be a day early - how about that! A day early! That's some good trip planning. But it'll give him time to set settled and rested before the first day of class on Friday.

It's Wednesday already, and I'm having an interesting work stress issue. I'm not stressing out too much but I *do* have to go to school starting on Sunday, for a week. So I'm trying to get a bunch of things done there, before I leave on Friday. I then have to get my nails done (foofy girly blah blah) and buy tires (how's that for a change-up?) and get the oil changed in my truck before I make the drive to Tucson. That's kind of a lot to do. And I have to go to the bank today at lunch which isn't my idea of fun.

I know, I know, I should just quit my bitching. I suppose I'm feeling a little touchy grumpy because my HUSBAND IS GONE FOR THREE MONTHS.

Oh, and the right toenail on my big toe fell off. Gross.

Yeah. I'm so sexy.

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:51 AM | #

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Tuesday, January 20, 2004

PRETTY WOMAN, THE KIND I’D LIKE TO MEET

My adoring husband is on his way to Baton Rouge, LA, where he is going to stay with the wonderful, awesome, amazing Shanna!

She has opened her home, and her kitchen, to fill his gullet with home cookin and give him a comfy bed on which to rest his head. And if I know Shanna and S., there will probably be some beer drinking to go along with it.

I’m jealous that he gets to meet her before I do, but at the same time I am amazingly grateful that she and Baret have room to let him stay the night. It’ll keep him from feeling like he’s got to push all the way to Biloxi from San Antonio, where he left this afternoon.

If I had realized this was going to happen, I would have made sure to send along a care package of oils, scents, and incense for my wonderful friend, so I guess the shipment will have to be forthcoming.

I’m so excited, I can hardly stand it. I hope he takes some good pictures of the two of them together.

Nothing like driving cross country when you’ve got the love of the blogosphere shining upon you.

Thank you, my friend.

Oh, P.S.: When I told my friend Ross, who reads Shanna's blog, that S. gets to stay with her on his way through town, he said, "Wow. I'd love to meet her, she seems so interesting. Not to mention, kinda hot."

I agree. She's en fuego!

Rose typed all this stuff at 2:52 PM | #

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WHEN I COME AROUND

Man, am I tired. I think it's going to take me a little bit of time to adjust to S. being gone, as I'm tossing and turning a lot of the night and am not getting much sleep.

In other news, I met with my dad and his new girlfriend last night, they're in town for a few days and had intended to take S. and I out to dinner to celebrate our marriage but they missed him before he left. So, instead they ended up just taking me.

It was a great dinner, and probably the most expensive meal I've ever eaten in my entire life. For some reason my dad was really interested in splurging, so he took us to this very historical, family-owned place called the El Chorro Lodge, which is a real tradition around here although I've never been. I've heard of people going there for big celebrations... but the least expensive entrees on the menu were in the $30 range and it only went up - skyrocketing up - from there. I actually thought it was a really nice gesture though on the part of my dad, and he had been looking forward to going there.

My dad isn't much of a splurger, usually he'd just as soon go to the little Mexican place where the margaritas are $2 and you can eat til you're full and carry home lunch for the next day, for under $10 a person. My kinda joint.

So anyway, the girlfriend seems pretty nice, and dinner was great, and I got home and talked to S. on the phone. He was a little bit tipsy at his dad's house, which I suppose is a way of coping with things... plus I can imagine that his dad pulled out some good bottle of whiskey or something, just being happy to have his kid there even if it's just for a day.

I've thought about having some kind of "countdown," either in my head, on a calendar, or here, to count the days before S. gets to come home. As of right this minute, I think it'd be a little depressing since the day-count would be close to 100. And that kind of high number just makes me all frustrated and kind of sad, so I probably won't start counting down the days until it gets closer to you know, 30 days or something stupid.

Well, back to work for me today. Obviously my post this morning is scattered and not worthy of much except its value as the truth of how I feel. The house is empty and cold this morning, just like it was every morning in the two years I was single. I've done this before. I can get through it.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:27 AM | #

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Monday, January 19, 2004

BIG YELLOW TAXI TOOK MY MAN AWAY

Well, not quite. It was actually a souped-up red Mustang. But who's counting?

I just sent an email to Deb at Smitten in which I suggested to her that I need to make sure my blog doesn't turn into a whining, depressed military wife blog for the time S. is gone.

I guess right at that moment, I am not sure how to do that.

I'm puttering around the house doing laundry and cleaning up, trying to get some things in "order" so I feel less disordered. Trying to make everything "all right" so I can forget about how completely wrong it feels without him here.

I'm amazingly proud of him. I'm proud of him for volunteering for this retraining thing. I'm proud of him for choosing to do something he's wanted to do for a long time but never had the gumption to do. And I am amazingly proud of him, that he feels he wants to do it so he can make a better life for us.

I'm honored to be his wife.

I just wish he were HERE with me so I could tell him that to his face, instead of him having to read it here or hearing it on the other end of the phone as I'm sobbing away.

He says it'll get easier the longer he's gone. I don't know if I agree with that, but I suppose I'm willing to take the gamble.

Being sad sucks ass.

Rose typed all this stuff at 1:12 PM | #

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DON'T IT ALWAYS SEEM TO GO, THAT YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU GOT 'TIL IT'S GONE

S. is gone.

I'm sorry I didn't write a lot the last few days. Sorry because I'm sure my soul needed some purging with the stress of impending events, but sorry if anyone was looking for an update, too.

Friday, S. took me out to Luke AFB and got me all "registered" as a military dependent. I have my military ID now, military insurance eligibility, car decal, I know where the Commissary and the BX are, blah, blah, blah. We also filed for an extension on his "report no later than" date, under the (valid) premise that he will need time to get his new family ready to move when he gets home from school the first week of May or so. Having a report date, to Oklahoma, the last week of June, doesn't leave much time when you're dealing with family members (me) who have lived in the same place for almost 22 years. Not the same house, but the same city. There's a lot to do when you have a house to sell and a job to quit on the chance you're going to move, and you don't want to do any of it until you have solid, concrete paperwork in your hands. We might not have his orders until June... that doesn't leave much time.

Saturday we went and had dim sum with some friends, which was delicious, and worked on the house and packing S. up for the rest of the day. Of course both of us were dragging our feet and fighting it the whole time because we weren't looking forward to the minute that he had to go.

That was yesterday.

Around noon, we had his car packed up and he was ready to hit the road. My mom came over to say goodbye and I was such a wreck when he left, that she took me out for lunch and a movie so I didn't have to putter around the house by myself and feel alone.

That's okay though, I did plenty of that last night.

I spoke to him on the phone a few different times (thank you, AT&T national long distance and national plan and mobile to mobile minutes) and tried to go to bed about midnight, when I was so tired I couldn't see straight but I also coudln't get comfortable enough to sleep. Every time I felt the empty space on the bed, all I could think was, "It'll be like this for three months."

The amazing thing to me is, two months ago, more often than not, the house was "alone" and "cold" and "empty" like it is right now. S. lived across town and we saw one another on weekends only. And I was okay with that. But now that we've shared this home for two months and he's just not here, I am painfully aware how he takes care of me and all the little things he does for me that don't necessarily seem important at the time, but are feeling amazingly important now.

I sat in the living room on the couch and watched TV last night and couldn't get comfortable because I'm used to him being on the couch with me. I laid in the bed last night and couldn't get comfortable because I'm used to feeling him in the bed with me. And now as I sit in the office and write, I am not comfortable becuase I keep turning around to where he'd normally be sitting in his seat, but there's only an empty desk.

Yes, this is going to be an interesting three months.

Rose typed all this stuff at 10:42 AM | #

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Friday, January 16, 2004

TA RA RA BOOM DEE YAY

Thank you, HaloScan, for picking up BlogSpeak comments. Commenting may now commence. Thank you.

Rose typed all this stuff at 11:42 PM | #

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Thursday, January 15, 2004

I KNOW WHAT BOYS LIKE, I KNOW WHAT GUYS WANT

Good morning.

For the first time in a very long time, I got about 8 hours of sleep on a work night. And for some reason I still feel tired. S. didn't feel well last night, so I returned his favor of the other day and ran him a bath, made sure he was all tucked in and taken care of, and we hit the sack rather early. Hopefully he feels better today. My dad gets into town and should come pick up this truck that' s parked on the side of our house, and today is my "Friday" at work since S. and I are spending the day winding up the married stuff with the USAF on Friday.

So I've been reading friends and folks I wish were friends in the blogosphere this week, and I've decided that there's a lot of relationship-brain going on right now. Whether it's single gals reaffirming their ability to live day to day without a man, or single guys in relationships wondering why snarky singles bring happy lovers down, or even a gal on cloud 9 in her new relationship who's thinking about living life in the day-to-day with her beau and whether or not it's dangerous to let him see you in your sweats... Relationship issues abound in the blog world this week.

I suppose I am no different. I have been trying not to over-do my mushing and gushing about my new marriage, but it's been hard to do. Everything about the day and everything about the relationship have been pretty great so far.

A little over a year ago, I was pissed off (again) at men and angry (again) at the "Fate" of relationships and struggling (again) with self esteem. I couldn't even tell you how it happened, exactly. I had been divorced for a year and had a couple of really ugly dating experiences, and was starting to wonder what the hell anyone saw in the whole relationship thing anyway. I mean, here I am - successful professional, can take care of myself, can pay my own bills, can take care of my dogs and my cats, and occasionally my yard. About the biggest life change I ever thought about was selling my house and maybe getting something a little smaller, because my yard was hard for me to keep up with by myself, and I don't much like yard work (as opposed to "gardening," but that is another post for another time).

So anyway - there I was, trying to be Ms. Independent Girl, doing all the right things, motherfucking the guys who had corrupted my life up to that point (not like I didn't have something to do with that for letting them in, in the first place). They were both guys I "used to know" in another place and time, and I probably should have left well enough alone, but of course I did not.

Oh, I don't remember if I mentioned - but of those two, guy #1 actually got ahold of me when he found out we were getting married and asked if I am pregnant. He said, "So, is this a shotgun wedding? Are you PG?" If he hadn't been on IM at the time, I would have reached out and smacked him upside the head.

And two nights ago, guy #2 had to stop by the house (I believe it was partially to scope out S.) and say hello. Bah.

Speaking of which, why do men who break up with women find the need to be friends? I don't know if this is something that anyone else experiences, but it seems like every fucking guy that I no longer date wants to be friends with me. Sometimes that's not a bad thing, but many times it is. It got to the point that I would have to say to men before we really "started" dating, that if we break up I have a hell of a time being friends, and if we date and fuck it up and go our separate ways, we probably won't talk any more. I find it much easier for me that way except in amazingly special circumstances. And yet these guys persist in trying to stop over or give me a call or meet for coffee or say hi or whatever. What is that?! Can someone please tell me what that is?

Because I am far too bitter and resentful to maintain a friendship with a guy after a breakup, most especially if (1) he fucks around on me while we are dating and then tells all my friends we were never really dating, or (2) he breaks up with me and makes it seem like my fault even though he's a can't-get-his-own-life-together second-class idiot.

Okay, I feel a little better.

So anyway a year ago I was just happy being on my own and wasn't really looking for anything. You know, I used to scoff at people who would talk about things like, "When you're NOT looking for love, that's when you will find it!" I mean, I swear I would say things like, "Yeah but who's not looking for love?" I thought you had to either be a slut or a playboy or retarded to not want love. Now of course I know better, because I had to learn the value of myself and my own time, and start to love myself. But then, I had no clue.

And right when I wasn't looking, S. came into my life. And right when I didn't know if we were dating, we were dating. And right when I wasn't sure if he loved me, then he loved me. And a year later, we're hitched, and I'm about to embark on some of the biggest changes in my life.

Considering I fear change, that's pretty good.

I'm a walking cliche. I'm a newly married lady who will wander around saying, "When you stop looking for love, that's when you'll find it!" And, "No! I'm not pregnant!"

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:49 AM | #

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Wednesday, January 14, 2004

HELLO, I LOVE YOU, WON'T YOU TELL ME YOUR NAME

By the way.

To the guy or girl who searched Webferret for "GREATGOOGLYMOOGLY.BLOGSPOT.COM," and then managed to get here, I'm really glad you found the website.

*smacks forehead*

I kid. I kid.

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:41 AM | #

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LET ME OUT

I got up this morning, this Wednesday, this technically-five-days-before-S.-leaves-for-three-months, feeling a little more refreshed than normal. Unfortunately, I got up to find S. in the office playing video poker because he could not sleep no matter what he tried.

This is not a good thing.

He needs all the rest he can get, considering his honey-do lists get longer by the day (that's what happens when you're on vacation for a week before you leave for a quarter of a year) and he can't get sick because he is DRIVING 1500 miles to Biloxi, MS. On Sunday.

So, I have put him back to bed after getting my clothes ready to wear and hopping in the shower myself, and hopefully he's going to be able to get some rest and still get a bunch of crap done today. I think we figured he's going to have to go out to the base at least two more times, including Friday with me, before he leaves just to get things in order.

So much to do.

Things with my mom are looking up, except for the fact that SHE is getting sick. And as I am desperately trying not to get sick, now I'm having to avoid hugging her or getting too close when she helps me out with stuff. It's too bad, because I want to be all comforting and kind and understanding, since she's going through hell with my sister. But there's not a whole lot I can do about it, so I just have to be comforting from a distance.

MONEY MONEY MONEY... MON-AHy

Well, S. and I had a big talk about money last night, and who's got it, and why, and where it has to go, and why, and how we're splitting everything up. It's been a haphazard couple of months in our household, with him paying for some things and me paying for other things, but I think we are working out a decent budget. Unfortunately for a while we're going to be one of those couples that has separate accounts for everything and then a separate "household account." That's no fun, but what are you gonna do, right? It'll all work out, and then when we move later maybe we can be more "jointly involved" financially. This seems to be the easy way to worry about it at this point.

So here's an interesting subject. I have decided the money situation in this household makes me feel more... feminine.

I know a lot of people might be frustrated by me writing that, but it's true. A big part of me is kind of an old-fashioned girl, and I have always been the one to make more money in my relationships. But with all his benefits and his allowances and everything added in, S. makes more money than me. Enough that it makes a difference. And there's something terribly old fashioned about getting to depend on your man to help things work out. I actually had someone ask me if I was going to become a homemaker - I think i'd make myself crazy and the home wouldn't be rightly "made." But knowing that he makes more money than me helps me feel good because I know it makes HIM feel good.

I'm such a chick, sometimes.

We have also had a couple of discussions, albeit brief, about the prospect of starting a family. Of course, I will have to lose a bunch of weight first and we'll have to be settled wherever we're going to end up... but I hear Norman, OK has lovely schools...

A girl can dream. Right?

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:28 AM | #

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I KNOW I HATE YOU

Well, BlogSpeak is still down and will probably be down until the weekend. That's the comments engine here, which is why no one has been able to comment on my ranting for the last couple of days.

Looks like it might get picked up by HaloScan, which could be good, and the comments won't be lost. We'll have to see. In the meantime thanks for your patience, and please don't stop coming by just because the comments aren't quite working!

Thanks again!

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:06 AM | #

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Tuesday, January 13, 2004

HAZY SHADE OF WINTER

Wow. There's a lot going on and at the same time, I feel like I am making no progress.

Looks like comments are still down this morning, so thanks for being patient. And, I am in the process of updating linky love on the left hand side - so please take a moment and check out some of the great bloggage that will inevitably make it onto the list. This will be an ongoing project for all week.

So, I got home last night, tired, tired, tired. I mean, I felt like I could have just gone to bed right at that moment - and for all practical purposes, I did.

S. met me at the door with a loving, adoring look and wrapped his arms around me and hugged me, and the drained feeling of my entire day managed to leave me. I just felt warm. I changed my clothes and curled up on the couch with him while we waited for pizza to arrive (pizza = not on my food plan) and he put his arm around me and just held me.

I'm not having bad days at work or anything, mind you, things are going great at work if a little on the slow side for me the last couple of weeks (oh, they're going to pick up in February, I have no doubt about that). With the time off I've been taking, I haven't taken on anything new so I've just been maintenancing some old projects. But since last week, slowly and steadily it's increasing. My workload. Back to normal. Which is really nice because it makes the days go faster. So. Work good.

But it makes me tired, when coupled with the stress of what's going on around us. Getting married was wonderful and IS wonderful, but it's still a stress. My dad is coming back this week and I have a Honey-Do list for S. around the house since he's on leave. Some stuff in the back yard, some things around the house, plus we are supposed to be working together in the evenings to get this house put together and completely clean, as I will have a house guest come the First of February.

It was nice to come home to a clean kitchen and living room (our Sunday project) but I was feeling too pooped last night. So S. sat with me on the couch and held on to me while I napped, dozed in and out. About 8pm after we were done with pizza and my full tummy had me napping yet again with my head in his lap, he said, "Let's go make you a bath!"

He lit candles, and incense. He helped draw the bath. He made sure I had quiet music and low lighting, a hot bath and a glass of wine, and left me in the bathroom (with the exception of checking on me from time to time to see if there were anything he could do for me). When I said, "How come you're taking such good care of me?" he answered simply, "Because I can."

And that, my friends, gave me goosebumps, and I felt like the luckiest gal around... again!

Taking care of me.

So last night I went to bed way too late, completely content to lay on the couch and cuddle while watching a (bad, in my opinion) movie, and this morning woke up in the middle of a bad dream, thinking, "WHY IS THE HOUSE SO MOTHERFUCKING COLD?!" Turns out the heat wasn't turned on, and although I was under three or four blankets, I couldn't get warm. Which also means I didn't sleep well, so I'm guzzling coffee and hoping I can overcome the tiredness of today so I'm not so tired tonight that I can't function again.

My dream was really strange. I was in a large room, a bedroom, but not my bedroom. It had rickety old wood furniture, mostly in the form of bunk beds. I was trying to rearrange it in a way that would work for my needs (though I don't recall what my needs were), and S. wasn't there, and no one would tell me where he was or get him for me. And it was cold. Now, I know why it was cold.

Can't I go back to bed? Can't I curl up with S., and hang on to him and not let go?

S. leaves on Sunday. This is going to be the hardest three months of my life.

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:35 AM | #

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Monday, January 12, 2004

FUCKERS.

This today:

"BlogSpeak is currently down because the bastards that host it decided to suspend my account. I do not know as of yet when this situation will be resolved. If you don't want any JavaScript errors on your pages, take the code off for the time being. Thanks for your patience."

Thanks y'all for your patience. You can always email me if you have something you want to say. :)

Rose typed all this stuff at 8:49 PM | #

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GIMME SOME LOVIN

I'm the luckiest girl on the planet.

Just look at my Dapper Dan! How nice he cleans up! Considering the only pictures anyone's seen of him here have either had his face blurred out in a strange melange of blur, or have been so far away you could only make out his glasses, this is a definite improvement.

I don't expect you all to be as enamored of him as I am, but I thought he cleaned up darned nice for the wedding and I couldn't help remember what I wrote about him about a year ago...

"Okay, so Prospect #4 is about to reach "name" status. At least for the purposes of this blog, we will call him, " S ". That's his first initial.

I figure staying up until 2:30 a.m. talking to him again pretty much automatically affords him the respect of not being referred to by an impersonal number, but instead by something closer resembling a name.

He's fabulous, by the way. S. I really like him. We haven't run out of things to talk about yet, and we seem to have an incredibly remarkable number of things in common. We're going out this Friday - so far, the only "plan" is we're going to be somewhere at sun-up to watch the sunrise, since we've kept one another up half the night talking a few times now anyway. So that should be fun.

Now, I just have to figure out where this is going, I suppose. We've done that thing people do in early stages of dating where they kind of talk around how they feel or what they're looking for or what they might be hoping for, from the other person. But it's not like we're quiet about what we think about things, so perhaps we'll find a way to broach the subject some time soon. Either that, or I'm going to get a kiss or something, and can take that as a type of concrete signal.

Personally, I'm hoping for the kiss. C'mon, second-date smooch! Smoocheroonie! Pucker up, buttercup! In honor of one of my good friends, I might as well say this here: Have I told any of you that he's completely YUMMY? Yes, yes, I could use a yummy boy. Screw that - I deserve a yummy boy. I could just eat him right up. Slurp!

Okay, I guess I should stop with the pseudo-sexual commentary. At least for now.

That was my entry almost a year ago about my wonderful S., and I find him as yummy as ever today.

I also dug out some notes I made to myself on my trip to Mexico shortly after my ex husband moved out two years ago and I filed for divorce. I thought I should write them out, here.

What I Really Want - March, 2001

Someone who loves me, as much as I love them on all levels. Especially romantically. Someone not afraid to shoot for "Forever!" Someone who wants to grow OLD living with ONLY ME. KIDS, soon. Within 3-4 years. No point in fucking around.

I want a handfasting.

Someone who can, will, and wants to, sleep in the same bed with me. Someone who adores me like I will adore him. Someone who loves nature, someone who is affectionate someone who knows my worth.

Someone not afraid to sacrifice, or compromise, for me or us.

Someone patient and kind, good, moral, and ethical.

Someone who is capable of being monogamous. With me.

Someone who will tell me they love me.

Someone who will do anything for me, although I would never ask them to sacrifice themselves.

Someone who wouldn't mind taking care of me, even a little.

Someone attracted to me, who accepts me, for me.

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I found him! Yay!

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:42 AM | #

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Sunday, January 11, 2004

CAN I HAVE THIS DANCE, FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE?

We awoke on Friday to the sound of birds chirping, rather literally, and took showers and headed off to the Phoenix Therapeutic Massage College for our one-hour massages. I have had massages before but S. had never had one, and we wanted to start off our last day together as two legally single people right.

The masseuse(s) were amazing, and while S. was trying not to drool himself to sleep, I was getting my scalp, fingers, toes, and darned near every inch of me relaxed so there was no possible way I could stress about the day to come.

We left the school, ran a couple of errands, picked up lunch from our favorite little Mexican place, and headed back to the house. The day was a calm one, but was filled with emails and phone calls from loved ones - David, Kristina, Maury, friends from work... it's such a blessing to know people are thinking of you. And since we had decided to limit the wedding party to two witnesses and my mom, that meant friends and other family would have to re-live the moment through our telling, and through photographs. To hear from them was the greatest gift ever.

We sat on the couch and laughed to Comedy Central until about 1:00 p.m., when we started cleaning up again and ironing clothes. S. went first with his ironing since it was only his pants, I had an entire ensemble to iron since I had - in characteristic fashion - had it crumpled into the bag from the store where I bought it for almost a week. It took me about 45 minutes to press the dress and then I started getting ready.

I was doing my hair when S. came out of the bedroom and let me know he had lost his black belt in the black hole that is currently the "dumping off point for all the crap in the house that doesn't have a place yet" - the guest room. So, he ran up to Wal Mart to buy a new belt at the last minute, and I worked on my hair and makeup. Turns out I had lost my neutral-colored hair thingy and had to wear a white one instead, but I figured, "I'm a freakin' bride, I can wear the white one."

I've not been in the habit of wearing much makeup, but was happy to see that I had appropriate shades that would match my dress. S. came back with his belt and got all dressed up, and wow, did he clean up nice. I mean, I think he's quite handsome anyway... but he looked amazing. He looked so dapper, so handsome, so GQ... I was very proud of him.

I looked at myself in the mirror and couldn't help feeling a little like a heifer. I'm heavier than I've been in a long time, and wished I didn't have to get married feeling so heavy... but soon all those feelings disappeared when S. joined me in front of the full length mirror and there we were, all dressed up, ready to go to our wedding. OUR WEDDING!

We packed up the cameras and my purse and headed out the front door to wait for my mom, with a quick stop over to our neighbor. She's a florist and had put together what was supposed to be a small nosegay bouquet for me and a flower for S.'s lapel... the bouquet was GORGEOUS and was bigger than a basketball with lilies, and carnations, and many sweet smelling blossoms. It was absolutely amazing. S.'s flowers matched mine and she pinned them on him. It was all coming together. We were on our way to get married.

At 3:50 my mom pulled into the driveway and insisted we take our place in the back seat like "proper limousine passengers." She had picked out a couple of spots along the greenbelt where we were going to go and take some pre-wedding shots. She fumbled through with my camera, and from the end product of her shooting there you can tell that she had some difficulty with zoom and shoot, but some of the shots came out great. She used S.'s too and she's got a bunch of pics on her own camera. They came out very nicely, with some green grass and big trees and nice, bright sunlight. The colors on the bouquet popped in the sunlight and from looking back at the pictures it sure looks like we were completely comfortable with this marriage idea. The funny thing was, there really were no jitters. Not bad ones, anyway. Just happy anticipation.

We got back in the back seat and made our way to the courthouse, where Maury met us in the parking lot. We were rather early for our 5:15 appointment, and there was another couple ahead of us. I couldn't help but notice that the bride, dressed in kind of an off-cream colored dress, didn't carry any flowers or anything... but you could tell from her little hairpiece that had some tiny roses in it that she was the bride.

We took some pictures in front of the courthouse, and cameras flew from person to person. Maury was a great photographer, and made sure to get everything... in looking at the pics he even got the Courthouse Window with the hours of service on the door. We stood, a little nervously, in the lobby of the court as the couple in front of us had taken up all the chairs. Just after 5pm, the judge arrived.

I heard one of the clerks say something like, "Oh, the Judge is here!" and I turned around to see a towering man, probably about 6'3", wearing faded blue jeans, leather moccasins, and a white "Harley Davidson" T-shirt with an American Flag. I had spoken to him on the phone so when he looked at us and says, "You must be Couple Number Two!" I knew exactly who he was. He was an affectionate, warm, smiling man, and immediately reached out his hand to S. and shook it, introducing himself as the Judge. He shook my hand and I was so comforted to see him and shake his hand, any nervousness I was hanging on to disappeared. He let us know how we were going to proceed and went off to marry the first couple.

We waited in the lobby, now seated in some chairs and talking quietly, when Kelly and Nancy arrived. Kelly showed up with a second beautiful bouquet of flowers, expertly wrapped with our Handfasting cord from the first ceremony. She also reached into a bag and said, "I got a message from the other side, and was told to bring this to you. It's from Mom." She gave me a beautiful silver Rose pin that Paula (who passed away earlier this year from cancer) used to wear, and I started to cry. They had to pin it on me because I was all teary-eyed. But Paula, my second mom, got to be there that day to see me get married again. And that was joyous.

I asked my mom if she would hold the first bouquet and I would hold Kelly's bouquet in the ceremony. She was happy to do so. More pictures were taken and everyone was happy and excited. And then the Judge came around the corner, still in his jeans and T-shirt, and let us know we could make our way into the courtroom. He would meet us in there.

When we entered the courtroom it started to occur to all of us that oddly, the colors of my dress matched everything about the Court. The blinds, the chairs, the carpet, everything was an interesting mauve color. I blended! We took this as just another sign, and we laughed and joked about it. "I blend!"

We were sitting and chatting when the Judge entered the courtroom, in his long black robe. And you could see his faded blue jeans and his moccasins sticking out from the bottom of the robe. We all thought that was the coolest thing ever. He called us up to the front and everyone else sat in the seats... until he said, "This is a close knit affair, everyone come on up here! We don't bite!"

And here's where it got amazingly cool.

He said, "The thing that troubles me about courthouse weddings, is that it's all over so fast. You can get out to the parking lot and say to yourselves, 'Holy smokes, are we really married? Did that happen?' So, what I like to do, is try to make this experience and this day something you will remember for all of your lives. You should always remember that January 9th is your anniversary. Rose, you're allowed to forget that date from time to time. S., you are never allowed to forget that date. Just ask Rose." We laughed.

He continued, "So, I have some prepared comments I'd like to read to you now. I'd like to ask that you close your eyes so there are no visual distractions, just listen to what I have to say." We closed our eyes and he proceeded to give us a wonderful, affectionate, loving lecture about the benefits of marriage, the uniting of souls, the fact that we are one another's light, one another's peace, one another's everything. He talked about us being there for each other and always being together, and supporting one another through everything. He even paraphrased some verses from I Corinthians, the passage about Love, without making it religious in nature. I was in tears by the end of his "talk," as were all the women in the room, I think.

Then we recited our "I do's," and exchanged rings - but not before a lecture about the symbol of the ring (which I love) and how wearing the rings becomes a symbol of our commitment to one another.

I held the bouquet through the entire ceremony instead of handing it off, because it was wrapped with our handfasting cord and S. kept his hands on mine, and touching the cord, too.

When was all said and done, with some more thoughtful words from this kind, caring judge, by the power vested in him he pronounced us Husband and Wife. Then we signed our names, and our witnesses signed (Maury and my mother) and we were all crying and laughing and overjoyed. And the Judge told us to meet him back out at the counter to finalize the paperwork.

We went back out to the lobby of the Court and met him at the counter - sans robe, once again in his Harley T-shirt, and we couldn't help but chuckle that we had gotten the coolest judge ever. The interesting thing about that was, I couldn't find a judge for the life of me that was available. There are no coincidences, we were supposed to end up with him. We are going to write him a thank you letter and ask him for copies of what he read to us at the ceremony. We think it would make a great keepsake, and the words were so full of truth and affection, we want to be able to share them with everyone who wasn't there.

Then we went out to dinner with my mom, to a really nice place here in Scottsdale, and had a fabulous meal. A really amazing meal. My mom took us back to the house and we packed a small bag and went to the Pointe at Tapatio Cliffs for our wedding night, which was a gift from my sister and brother-in-law. We shared a bottle of $30 champagne someone had given me as a gift last year at New Years, and Maury joined us at the hotel. We hopped a shuttle up the street to a cute little bar and drank margaritas and listened to the cover band until they quit playing, and took an Execu-car (Lincoln towncar cab) back to the hotel.

S. and I were tipsy on tequila and giddy with love, and sat up eating cheese and crackers and making googly eyes at each other and talking about how great our day was, until the wee hours. And you know, there was some happy love and affection even after that. We made good use of the hotel room!

So, that's about the size of that. We's hitched!

Rose typed all this stuff at 3:26 PM | #

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Saturday, January 10, 2004

BY THE POWER VESTED IN ME, I NOW PRONOUNCE US MAN AND WIFE!

You may throw rice.

Updates very soon!

Rose typed all this stuff at 8:34 PM | #

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Thursday, January 08, 2004

THERE'S A WEAPON THAT WE MUST USE IN OUR DEFENSE - SILENCE

So last night, some asshat on a local radio station starts fueling rumors that the pipeline to Arizona broke again and that we would run out of gas. So last night, there were fucking lines around gas stations for no particular reason, people panicking and thinking they were going to be the "big smart guy" and fuel up their cars ahead of the game while the rest of us plebes ended up scraping around for the last drops of petrol in the vast, vast desert.

Now this morning, of course they are saying there was never anything wrong with our pipeline, and that these people were probably smoking crack.

Or listening on police scanners and taking things the wrong way.

Or something.

So now I have to leave early so I can get fucking gas for the fucking car in case the PANIC from the RUMORS causes a jump in gas prices (which haven't gone below $1.45/gal here in Phoenix since they were $2.50 earlier this summer).

Fuck.

Lotta fucks today, people. Say it with me.

Fuck.

Rose typed all this stuff at 8:00 AM | #

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I WANNA BE SEDATED.

Okay, so you know how I mentioned that my sister had sent a four page letter to my mom? I did mention that, right?

My sister, in an effort to draw out the drama, sent a four page letter to my mom basically saying, "You ruined Christmas." So I've sent letters to my mom, but they were a paragraph in length, dealt with one specific "incident," and they were usually something we ended up talking about.

On Monday mid-day my sister sent the email to my mom.

On Tuesday she emailed me and asked me if my mom had read the email... I reminded her that I was going to stay out of it, that it's between her and my mom, and confirmed that yes, I knew she had gotten it... sis wrote me back and said, "Well what did she say, she hasn't written me back, I need to know how she felt."

I wrote her back and said something like, "You didn't write the letter to make her happy, it was pretty negative so I'm sure it doesn't surprise you she wasn't thrilled when she received it. I'm sure she's just trying to find the 'right thing to say' for when she writes you back. Hey, I'm getting married this week and I have other stuff I'm trying to deal with - I know you and mom need to work this out and I really hope you do, but I need to stay out of it."

So what does my sister do?

Writes my mom another email yesterday afternoon and then PHONES her last night.

You know how she started the email?

"I know Rose is getting married this week and I understand that you are probably devoting your time and energy to that, but I don't understand why you haven't responded to my [four page full of criticism nearly nothing positive -Rose] email. I really need you to respond."

Excuse me?

I mean, what the fuck? I swear to God/dess, I was adopted. I mean, it's not like we are making a huge, traditional, big deal out of this wedding - we're excited and proud but we're going to stand in front of a judge, for goodness sake. But still. Can't my mom be involved in **MY** life for a week, instead of having to drop everything to try to placate my sister?

And for her to actually say, "I know there's something else but I need you to focus on MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" (emphasis added) is a little bit psychotic.

Was I adopted?

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:57 AM | #

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Wednesday, January 07, 2004

I SAY WHY

What the fuck is this?

Play the world record video of Emily Fox.

Good lord.

Fuck.

Rose typed all this stuff at 4:51 PM | #

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WE'VE GOT TONIGHT

Mad cow disease.

President Bush slyly, clandestinely, getting another bill passed to take away more of our civil liberties.

A Democratic party that better hurry up and pick, realistically, the best choice to beat Bush in November.

So much going on in the world, and what am I worried about? A potential move to Oklahoma, and a wedding on Friday.

We're going to get our handfasting cord to my best friend Kelly, who is going to wrap a handmade bouquet with it and "randomly bring it" to the wedding, so we can have the cord in our ceremony. It belongs there, and that's a way to do it without freaking my mom out. Necessarily.

Many folks have asked me what the Bride and Groom will be wearing.

The Bride will be wearing an ankle-length dress, black with a large splotchy floral pattern on it in mauve, cream, burgundy and moss green. Black pumps. Hose. I do not know what I am doing with my hair yet.

The Groom will be wearing moss green Slates slacks, a beige-colored mock turtleneck, and a black wool blazer.

So, there's that. I will also obviously have a bouquet of flowers. S. will wear a flower too.

What else? Have I left any good details out? Sigh.

Oh, we're looking at Norman, OK for a choice to move to. The University is there, we can buy a nice house there for not a lot of money, crime is low, they're a forward-thinking and fairly young community, and most of the folks there appear to be of the educated variety. Good schools in case we ended up staying there to raise a family. Does anyone have any thoughts about THAT?

Okay, now I'm starting to freak out. Look what I did.

Rose typed all this stuff at 2:55 PM | #

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Tuesday, January 06, 2004

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS.

It's only one vote, but someone took the time to nominate me and vote. Thank you. I'm reveling in the moment, since I'm sure it won't be like this in a little while.

(HAD a picture of being #1 on Blorgy here, but I removed it for bandwidth since I'm trying to share some wedding pictures. Thanks for being patient!)

Whoever is my Good Fairy and keeps nominating me, thank you.

-------
Update - looks like someone voted me a "1" to 'balance things out' so I don't anticipate this morning's post making it back to the front page of Blorgy. If you wanted to look for it there, it's easier to find it under "newest posts - view all" than it is under highest ranked, as I'm way down at the bottom now. Damn politics.

Rose typed all this stuff at 4:43 PM | #

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SATURDAY WAIT, AND SUNDAY ALWAYS COMES TOO LATE

Okay. So I was going to tell the rest of the story about the last day I was in Pennsylvania. I do this out of honesty and truth because frankly, I threw my own tantrum (Finally!) on Saturday. So, here is the situation, how it happened, and hopefully it will give some of you an idea of just how completely fucking psycho my family is. Not that my family is any MORE psycho than any other family, bu it explains a lot about me and my life.

After the "vitamin C bar" fight earlier in the day, we were all a little on edge. I had been "hiding" trying to sneak a nap or just watch some TV and stay out of everyone's way, and finally at about 7:30pm my mom suggested we start packing since we had to be on the fucking road at fucking 5:30 in the morning to get to the airport in Pittsburgh. So I went upstairs and started packing up what I had so carefully unpacked upon my arrival, and sorting through what I'd wear, what I'd carry, and what I'd check.

As I was putting my camera in my carryon bag, I was just doublechecking things as I usually do. Memory card? Check. Lens cap, on. Batteries. Hm, only one. One?!

The batteries for my camera are proprietary Olympus batteries. They are AA batteries, but they're newfangled hefty rechargeables that you can only buy in a set of four with the charger, and they're the kind that you can "only use" in the Olympus charger. They're like, ultra heavy duty batteries, and they're expensive, and I tried to remember why I might only have one little battery out of four little batteries zipped carefully into the battery pocket. Shit.

So I say to my mom, "Have you seen three of these?" and I hold it up to her, and she says no, and I tell her I have to find them. So she starts looking through my bag (as I say, "I've done that. I've done that. I've looked there. I looked. They're not there." She's just trying to be helpful but now I'm getting more frustrated, and I am trying to remember what I might have done with my fucking expensive batteries.

So I have a flashback! On Christmas Eve, when we were in battery operated toy hell, we were running low on AA batteries. At that point the batteries in my camera had died and I had tried unsuccessfully to replace them with some regular AA batteries that were laying around, and I remembered getting in my camera to hand my sister three or four AA batteries. Could it be, did I give her my camera batteries instead of regular ones? Stupid! Stupid me! Stupid!

So, I went to see my sister with my single battery in hand, and I was starting to feel frantic. And I said, probably rushed or hurried, "Hey, when I gave you some TRIPLE A BATTERIES the other day out of my camera, do you remember if they looked like this?"

Yes, that's right gentle reader, I called them TRIPLE A BATTERIES. This becomes important.

She looked at me, huffed, and said, "You never gave me any AAA batteries." Flustered, I did not even notice the fact that we were talking about a battery size different than the one I was holding in my hand - I had been in Battery Land for three days, we had so many batteries of different kinds lying around they were all becoming a blur. But I had the AA in my hand, nonetheless.

"Are you sure," I asked, "I'm sure I remember handing you some batteries for a toy. If you remember what toy it might have been, back on Christmas Eve, I will just go downstairs and see if they're in it."

"I didn't give you any batteries," she replied, and I saw the gears turning, she started creating a crisis in her own head.

So I went back downstairs, asked my brother in law if he had seen them, looked around the couch, moved the couch, looked under the couch, and in the meantime my mom was following me around trying to figure out why I was so flustered about "some batteries" (she didn't know they're rather expensive) and I was getting to the end of my rope. The longer I looked for the batteries, the madder I got AT MYSELF for having misplaced them - I don't let anyone in my family handle my camera (it's a very expensive Olympus digital camera, probably the only nice thing I ever got for myself... and even though I paid a third of retail buying it barely used, it still retailed over $1200. Nice camera, and psychos aren't allowed to play with it. Well, except for me.)

So, I am coming up the stairs and I actually HEAR MY SISTER say to my mother, "I didn't ask her for TRIPLE A BATTERIES, I got DOUBLE A BATTERIES from her that night, that's not what she asked me!" Okay, NOW IT'S ON.

I come around the corner and do some pissed off chick waving the finger thing and proceed to get in her face for not just correcting me when I was talking to her, and she tells me I've accused HER of losing my batteries, and then I try to tell her that's not the case at all, that I'm upset at ME, but that's it, it's done. I have failed in my mission to stay out of fights and not get sucked in - what could have just been me having a personal tantrum has become a fight with my sister, and it's all downhill from here.

I can't remember if I was READY to say to her, or DID say to her, that if she found the batteries in a toy to just send them to me. I did tell my mom that if I lost them oh well, I'll just have to order them from Olympus or go to Kit's Cameras or something when we get home and get a new set of them, and then I'm telling her how much they cost, and she starts realizing why it's inconvenient for me to lose them. She mutters something about paying for a new set, and I tell her no, that I can and will pay for a set, that I am just frustrated, blah blah, and I make one more trip downstairs to look on and in the couch.

I walk past Brother In Law who is sitting with nephew, who points at me and calls out, "Auntie Rose!" as I walk by. I smile at my nephew and reach under the cushions of the leather couch and start tearing it apart... to find three NiMH Olympus Camedia rechargeable DOUBLE A BATTERIES between the cushions.

Bingo.

"HEY!" I call out to the two upstairs who are now arguing about me. "I found them between the cushions of the couch!" With that, brother in law grabs nephew and takes him upstairs, my mom calls down to me that she's happy I found them, I start to feel like less of a stupid asshole, and I follow brother in law and nephew up the stairs. I hear the bedroom door close and my sister goes in the bedroom and then comes out and says, "J. says that he's tired of dealing with crises, and you two have to shut up or take it outside, he's finished dealing with you and he's putting Matthew to bed."

My mother, in perfect mom form, says, "Fuck you, J," to a closed bedroom door. My sister loses it, I stand dumbfounded at the top of the stairs, and my mom gives me a look like, "Hey! That was pretty good! Did you hear me? Did you? Did you?"

I can hear it coming, and I try to duck but to no avail. The spew that starts coming out of my sister's mouth about how she's extended her hospitality to us for the week and we ruined everything and how dare we say fuggoff about her husband and this is her house and respect her and blah blah blah fuckity fuck fuck fuck, and there's just nothing now that can be done to salvage it. Yes, I've managed to do it, I have tainted the whole week and any time she looks back at it she will purposely remember this item as the thing that ruined Christmas vacation.

Particularly because it is easier than remembering that she called her husband a "fucking happy go lucky dad" in front of her mother, her sister, and her two children, and had an extended argument with her perfect husband in her perfect house about her perfect life and how - surprise - it's not so perfect.

Now, we have something to overshadow that.

To make an excessively long story very short, my sister proceeded to threaten to not let us see Matthew any more, said that we were being spiteful and evil for not going in his bedroom and saying goodnight and goodbye to him (were we invited? I thought we were supposed to take it outside!) and when I retired to the basement to watch TV and just avoid the rest of the carnage of the night, my mom came down and kept asking me to apologize to my sister (which I didn't want to do) and try to smooth things over.

My sister actually said, within earshot of me on purpose so I could hear, that I CREATED that fiasco of a clusterfuck crisis on purpose, so I could come home and have some terrible story to tell S. so he would hate my family and pity me. Of course, when I asked her to apologize for that, she wouldn't.

So what did we end up doing?

Like any good dysfunctional family, we sat at the kitchen table and played Scrabble like nothing was wrong.

Unfortunately for my mom, my sister was just waiting for the right moment..

She sent my mom a four page letter yesterday assigning blame on my mom for every fight or conflict or crisis that happened while we were there, including my battery crisis, and basically telling her that she ruined Christmas for them.

There's no place like home. There's no place like home. Hey, if I click the ruby slippers but I don't want to be around my family any more, will they just carry me away?

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:50 AM | #

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Monday, January 05, 2004

FROM THIS MOMENT ON

Well. We went shopping this weekend for wedding clothes and each found something to wear. We are also a couple days closer to finalizing some wedding "things."

Of course, this weekend was full of tension and a couple little arguments, and I ended up snoring so much last night that for the first time, he went out to the couch to sleep.

I'm sure these little things are all stress-related, and hopefully we can just get them all figured out.

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:59 AM | #

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DO IT TO ME ONE MORE TIME

Where did we leave off? Christmas Day?

The day after Christmas was fairly uneventful. My mom and I let my sister and her husband go on a "date." What was supposed to be an evening out, dinner and a movie, true adult company... ended up being the two of them going to run some after-Christmas errands, refunds, etc., and then going to see a movie. That left me and my mom with my nephew, 28 months, and my niece, 3 months. We had a good day - playing with the nephew, feeding and making googly eyes at the infant, trying to sneak in a catnap when everyone else was napping... it was all good. Then later that night we actually went to bed at a reasonable hour, after having some leftovers to eat. It was a good, uneventful day. That was... Friday.

Saturday started bright and early, as we were going on a family outing. We were going to go to the mall for a short trip and then to PF Chang's to get something for lunch or dinner (spicy eggplant, yum) and then head back home. This was also the day before we were to come home.

Well, we got everyone cleaned up, dressed, and ready to go, and piled into the Suburban. My mom had given my sister some baking dishes, Corningware or something, and she had bumped the box at an inopportune moment, causing one of the pieces to break before she removed it from the box. We took it back to Target and got a new one, and that's where the problems started. My mom, who chose to sit in the very back of the Suburban, wanted out of the truck to go into the store with my brother-in-law for the exchange... almost as if she thought he wouldn't be able to "pull it off." Well, when we suggested she just stay put and let him run in right quick and take care of it, she started nearly pouting in the back seat. She was obviously unhappy with that scenario, although her getting out of the truck would have involved: (1) me getting out of the truck, (2) taking Matt out of his car seat, (3) disconnecting part of his car seat, (4) moving my seat forward, and then since it was like 30 degrees, putting me and the two year old back in the truck until they returned... and then repeating steps one through four. Bah.

The bro-in-law made a fine exchange and brought out a spanking new box of Corningware, and we were off to our next stop. We went to Kaufman's, which I guess is the same thing as Macy's or Robinson's May, and did another exchange and my sister picked up a great coat on a screamin day-after-Christmas deal. It really was a very nice coat, and I was happy for her. Next stop: PF Chang's, though none of us knew where it was. They sat me in the front seat with my BIL and I was the navigator (I had a map, whoo).

So, we found our way to PF Chang's, but by that point the infant and the nephew were both crashed out asleep so instead of going in to sit down and eat, we took our food to go. We got back to the house (It was quite a long trip, I'd say maybe 20 miles each way actually) and dished up "dinner," which was just going to be a big lunch. But, we wanted to have Xmas leftovers for munchy light dinner so we figured we'd better throw ourselves into lunch full force.

Matthew, the two year old, didn't want to eat. He just wasn't hungry. This child, who wants to eat all the time, just didn't want anything. He had a couple of bites of his dad's noodles while he was standing next to the dinner table (the child, not the dad) and that was really all he wanted. So we had a little discussion about boys that don't eat their lunch, and Matt seemed fine with that, so he went off to play and left us to finish our lunches up. We packed the leftovers from THAT meal into the fridge and all of us just kind of started a lazy afternoon of sitting around.

I had started to snore on the couch so I went downstairs to the basement and napped for a little while, until Matt came down to "get me" and convinced me to come back upstairs so I could play with him.

After we played for a while and watched a little TV, I'd say it was probably about 2pm or 2:30pm now, we were all upstairs. The living room and kitchen are open to one another in their house, and we were all talking when suddenly I heard Jeff say, "Well c'mere, Matt, you can pick out one for yourself." And he opened the freezer door and a beaming two year old child came out from the freezer with an ice cream bar.

Well, my sister launched herself off the couch and said, "What do you think you're doing? He didn't eat lunch!" So here's the two year old holding ice cream bar, and Daddy is eating his own ice cream bar (I guess he didn't want to give the child a bite) and now mom's starting to yell. Child looks confused, and Daddy says... "This is a vitamin C bar."

My sister was in rare form. "I don't know what fuckin planet you're on, but can you tell me how a chocolate ice cream bar has enough vitamin C in it to be called a "vitamin c bar?" That is a chocolate ice cream bar. That's pure sugar, but you don't care, you're too busy being the freakin' happy go lucky dad to even think about the fact that you're going to pump him full of sugar at 2pm after he didn't have lunch. I don't suppose you're going to be the one to put him to bed later?" As this tirade was flowing forth, she took the ice cream bar from my nephew and put it back in the freezer, and now the child is crying.

What happened after that all blurs together. For a moment or two, my sister's "perfect life" looked absolutely fairly normal, or even not-quite-as-good-as-normal. She was waving her finger in the face of her husband who was telling her to put her finger away, they were discussing who does more with the kids and he kept saying things like, 'Don't listen to Mommy, she's got PMS' and 'Sorry about my wife, you guys, she's just having a bad day.' He kept trying to "smooth the waters" by trivializing the issue, which just made my sister more mad.

And suddenly, my imperfect life looked pretty goddamned good.

What happened later that night was the crowning glory. However, at that point, I tried desperately to find a reason or a way to go back downstairs and watch some TV without having to see them fight with each other...

Day 4 to be continued.

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:55 AM | #

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Friday, January 02, 2004

SIGN, SIGN ON THE DOTTED LINE

Well, one step closer to being official. We went to the County Clerk's office today and got our marriage license.

One week and counting!

Rose typed all this stuff at 3:33 PM | #

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THE BEST THINGS IN LIFE ARE FREE

Well, my image hosting at Villagephotos took a big shit, because they can't afford to let me host my tiny little pictures for free any more. They're "changing" their free service - I can have the pics there and look at them there, but no external links.

This means that my pics, the pics on S.'s blog (which was recently updated), and many other bloggers, are suffering.

Does anyone have any information on free image hosting? I don't want to pay $8 a month or something just to host my three tiny blog pictures. Any information you might have would be appreciated.

Thanky!

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Updated: Found www.ripway.com which appears to be free, am trying them out. Anyone have anything good to say about them?

Rose typed all this stuff at 9:55 AM | #

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Thursday, January 01, 2004

SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT

Happy new year, all. One year ago today I started this blog. Thanks for hanging in there with me.

-Rose

Rose typed all this stuff at 9:59 AM | #

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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.

Name: Rose
Age: 36
Religion: Pagan
Husband: SSgt, USAF
Current Location: Tinker AFB, OK
Job: Self-Employed Transcriptionist
and Domestic Goddess

I am currently pimping:
Kasora Teas.

me @ consumating