Welcome to my wonderful, terrible, soap opera sit-com world.
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
WHO WROTE THE BOOK?
Working in the downtown of downtown exposes you to some pretty interesting characters on a daily basis.
One of them is the screaming preacher who parks himself outside our building every single day.
Today I had to run an errand out of the office and had to walk past him. As a matter of fact, I had to cross the street to his corner to get where I was going.
He was screaming and preaching, preaching and screaming, when I crossed. He looked me right in the eye and was screeching something about Jesus and God and fire and brimstone.
I politely moved my way onto the public corner and was waiting for the light to change so I could continue crossing. I had to turn my back to him so I could see the light. Duh.
And he screamed something about me being a sinner and "THAT'S WHY YOU HAVE TO SEEK THE FACE OF GOD! AND FAST!"
So if I wanted to say:
SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU FUCKING SCREW LOOSE WACK JOB SCREAMING ASSHAT MOTHERFUCKER, BEFORE I SHOVE MY SINNER FOOT RIGHT UP YOUR RUDE FUCKING ASS!
Does that make me a bad person?
Well, it's not like I DID it!
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I am so thrilled to hear about this, I can't even begin to tell you. These soldiers deserve our respect and recognition. These soldiers deserve what will happen on Friday.
Thank you, ABC, for having the guts to do this.
Direct Link To Article - Yahoo News
'Nightline' Devotes Show to Reading War Dead Names
Wed Apr 28, 7:31 AM ET
LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - Ted Koppel's "Nightline" will dedicate an entire broadcast to a reading of the names of American servicemen and women killed in action in Iraq.
Koppel will read aloud the names of those killed since the March 2003 start of the Iraq war on the Friday edition of ABC News "Nightline," the network said on Tuesday. The reading will be accompanied by a photograph of each person named.
While "Nightline" and other U.S. TV news broadcasts have reported regularly on those killed in Iraq, "Nightline" executive producer Leroy Sievers said: "We realized that the casualties were on their way to becoming just numbers."
"'The Fallen' is our way of reminding our viewers -- whether they agree with the war or not -- that beyond the casualty numbers, these men and women are serving in Iraq in our names. and that those who have been killed have names and faces," said Sievers.
Due to time constraints in the 30-minute program, "Nightline" will limit its reading to the approximately 523 U.S. troops killed in combat since the start of the war. Another 201 have died as a result of accidents, friendly fire or suicide.
The planned broadcast follows the controversial publication in the United States last week of hitherto restricted pictures of dozens of flag-draped coffins returning home with the bodies of U.S. troops.
A "Nightline" spokeswoman said ABC's decision was not related to the publication of the photos, and there was no political intent behind ABC's decision to read out the names of those killed in the war.
"It is purely a tribute," she said, adding that "Nightline" had been working closely with the Army Times Publishing Company which has a database of names and photographs of troops killed in action.
ABC is owned by the Walt Disney Co.
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Someone posted a review of my blog on Blogarama. Whoever that was, thank you! And a very kind review it is. I don't know if I'm a "10," but it sure makes me feel good to think someone thinks so.
So, seeing this there and admitting to the attention-whoreness that comes almost certainly with being a blogger at one time or another, I would like to say that if anyone else wanted to review me, I wouldn't be mad.
Now I feel all speeshul.
Oh, and looks like some time in the next month or so I'm going to hit my first 25,000 hits on the old blogaroonie. Anyone else gotten to the first 25K? Since I remember a year ago when I was happy to get 5 hits a day, that's kind of exciting for me. As piddly of a milestone as it is, anyone have any ideas to celebrate?
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Aha, behold, an interesting day was had by all.
Not really. But I'm trying to psych myself up for another one.
S. had a day, I guess that's all I can suggest, as he is still re-acclimating himself to the household and what goes on here. I was at work all day and gave myself a little bit of a headache from headphones on a transcriber, but what am I gonna do - what has to be done, has to be done. Right? Right!
I'm pooped, man. I'm pooped for no other reason than my massive pooped-ness. It's like I've slept better in the last three or four days than I have in three months, and I think S. is having the same experience. We hit the bed and we're pretty much wiped out. Well, you know, except for a little touchy feely gropey gropey, but who can fault us that?
I spoke to my sister last night about my dad, and there has been a huge development. He has gone to the doctor and asked him for help in quitting drinking. For that, I'd like to thank everyone who stopped and took a minute out of their day to think a positive thought for him.
My dad is 65 years old and has been an alcoholic since I was born, pretty much. If he hasn't had a drink since last Monday, then he's currently more sober than I have ever seen him in my entire life.
It's going to be a very, very hard road for my dad. He's a highly functional, very successful, pickle. He doesn't just THINK he needs it, to help him calm down or whatever... he physically craves it, and he's having tremors and other symptoms of alcohol withdrawal (though thankfully the DT's are far behind him now).
He hasn't phoned me yet to give me the good news, and I doubt I will hear from him in the next day or so. I'm just kind of staying out of his way right now since I really chewed him a new one the last time I talked to him. But tough love man, what are you going to do with your dad insists on killing himself. If we had said, "Okay, that's great, pop!" he would probably be laying on the floor in a pile of his own blood and vodka.
It's a not-so-funny joke when I say that my father's drinking is gonna drive me to drink.
So, anyway... one more day of work to go, and then I'm off again.
The Clann a' Choin Fhior, a local Pagan group that we practice with, is hosting a Beltaine festival this weekend on the west side of Phoenix, and we're going. We're going to volunteer on Saturday (not vending any incense this time) and camp Saturday night. It'll be fun to see the people in that group again, as they're starting to grow on us like family.
It will also be our six month handfasting anniversary (as opposed to wedding anniversary).
But we truly do consider ourselves married for six months now. Can we get on with the honeymoon please?!
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Tuesday, April 27, 2004
I GUESS I'LL NEVER LEARN
My man's home and I'm on my way back to work. Not exactly my favorite pairing of concepts, but it's one I will have to deal with. For at least two more days. Since I am also taking Thursday and Friday off this week.
Two days of work, gonna bust my hump, so I can feel good about four straight days with the hubby.
We still aren't done catching up yet.
Let's talk about what it's like when a real man comes home, shall we?
A real man, although he is anxious for his wife's home cooking, calls three hours from home and says, "You've been working hard on your own for three months. Why don't you let me take you out to dinner so you can start relaxing?"
A real man comes through the door, adoration in his eyes, hugs and holds his wife, lets her cry, and tells her she's beautiful.
A real man offers to unload the car all by himself so his wife doesn't have to, although she helps anyway because she wants to.
A real man shows up with a gift -- a thoughtful one, something that took time and energy to find, something that would prove to his wife that he knows her.
A real man makes passionate love to his wife as if she's the first woman he's ever touched and the only one he ever wants to.
A real man feels the conversation escalate and nips it in the bud, reminding his woman he'll always be there for her and she doesn't have to worry any more.
A real man asks for the honey-do list and gets started on it right away because he wants to put his personal touches on the household.
A real man gets involved in the day-to-day things like medicating pets, housework, and keeping the kitchen clean. He picks up after himself and cooks dinner and has grand plans for laundry.
And it takes a real man to, knowing that his wife would gladly wait on him hand and foot to show her gratitude and adoration, wait on HER hand and foot before she has the chance.
S. has been there for me as best he could from 1600 miles away, and he's done nothing since he's been home but be there for me in any way he could. My coffee cup has never been empty, my hand has constantly been held, doors have been opened for me, and I've been made to feel like a woman. An important, intelligent, amazing woman.
And I'm here to tell any of you who are interested, that it's a great gig if you can get it.
At first I was feeling spoiled, wondering when things would get "back to normal." Then I remembered that this IS back to normal. We do these things for one another. We're always refilling glasses, getting second helpings, oh-babe-don't-get-up-let-me-do-that-for-you. That's just how it is around here. And now it's back to that.
I'm heading back to work and S. is armed with a list of little things that need to be done around here... mow the yard, turn a screw, wipe a counter, wash some dark colored clothes...
Mama's gonna go bring home some bacon.
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Monday, April 26, 2004
FEELING HOT, HOT, HOT
I am going to enter a salsa cook-off contest thing.
Contest.
I am going to make multiple entries.
The categories are: mild, medium, and hot.
The first test batch I made last night has tomatillos, half an anaheim chile, one jalapeno, green onions, cilantro, garlic, salt, pepper, and half an avacado. It is blended until nearly smooth.
It's pretty good, kind of tangy and citrusy tasting. (that's the tomatillos).
Tonight I am going to make tomatoes, white onion, roasted pasilla pepper, cilantro, garlic, and jalapeno.
Yum.
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Sunday, April 25, 2004
FATHER, FATHER, FATHER
My father is being released from the hospital today.
The doctor was very clear on what he needs to do. If he quits drinking, he could live another 20 years. If he does not, they will not make any comment on his prognosis. The ulcers (there were 6-8 in a cluster) that were bleeding in his stomach, causing him to bleed to death, were caused by his Aleve use, his alcohol abuse, and an infection which was allowed to run rampant because of the delicate nature of his stomach lining from the other stuff.
They can treat him for his infection. They can talk him out of using Aleve any more.
He however, refuses to stop drinking.
So.
I get to watch my dad kill himself every day that he keeps drinking. He's told us he doesn't want us to go to Alaska to see him, he's told us he is going to Mexico against doctor's advice, and that he's going to live his life any goddamn way he pleases.
I don't suppose I expected anything different from my dad.
So my husband's home and it makes it easier to deal with these things, but I'm still both disappointed in my dad and saddened that despite anything I ever told myself, I'm going to watch him drink himself to death.
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Friday, April 23, 2004
SEX SEX SEX LOVE LOVE LOVE SEX LOVE AND SUSHI
He's home!
He's also in the shower.
Getting ready to go out to dinner.
Bwahahaahahah!
HE'S HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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MY HUSBAND IS COMING HOME
HE IS IN ARIZONA
HE HAS CALLED ME
HE IS AN HOUR AND A HALF OUTSIDE OF TUCSON
WHICH MAKES HIM ABOUT THREE HOURS FROM HERE
AND HE WANTS TO TAKE ME OUT TO DINNER
SO I AM GOING ON A DATE
WITH MY HUSBAND
DATING THE HUSBAND
AND GUESS WHAT
I'M GONNA PUT OUT
AFTER HE BUYS ME DINNER
AND AT THIS RATE
MAYBE BEFORE HE BUYS ME DINNER
C'MON A LITTLE QUICKIE
GIMME IT
AND I DON'T CARE IF I'M YELLING
I DESERVE SOME YELLING
GOING ON A DATE
PUTTING OUT
AND IT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE ME A SLUT!
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Happy Friday, goddammit.
S. comes home tonight. Laundry's almost done, just gotta get it put away, rest of the house is clean, it's all good.
I had a long talk last night with a friend of mine I like to call 'Psychic Nancy.' We're both a couple of Aquarians with a rough streak, and sometimes I feel like she's one of the only people on the planet who understands me. Lately that's not the case as I have a lot of wonderful friends (Maury, Shanna, Kristina, list goes on) who are looking out for me or trying to help me out in their own special way... but Nancy knows K., who has been basically crapping on me now for a while.
After having a talk with Maury yesterday I accepted Nancy's invitation to call me. It turns out she's seen the same types of things other friends and I have seen and is in agreement that I just need to back K out of my life for a while and accept that she's just got aother role, and it's not that of Best Friend. To hear that from someone who knows K is a big help for me.
Somewhere along the line I convinced myself that at some times in my life, the only thing I HAD was K. But lately I've been made to feel like a burden, talked down to, insulted, degraded, berated. Do I think she even knows she's doing it? No. But do I need to take it any more? Hell no.
Last night I talked to Nancy for about an hour and a half and it made me feel much better. She also reinforced my peace about my father and is helping me (as are my good friends) come to terms with the notion that although there's a possibility I'll have to go see him, I might not have to go see him.
What do I mean by that, you may ask?
We're going to talk to my dad's doctor today. It seems that one of the reasons why they are holding him in the hospital, is that he is going through DT's. Delerium Tremens, or alcohol withdrawal, can be pretty substantial. But that's because my dad is a highly-functioning alcoholic.
Yesterday afternoon when we spoke to my dad we did not tell him that he's being treated for DT's because for some reason, it appears the doctor hadn't told him that either. We're going to - or my sister is going to - talk to the doctor some time today and she has a list of questions to give him.
What's my dad's prognosis. What's his discharge plan. What's going to happen if he keeps drinking. That's kind of a biggie. So now I am preparing myself for the possibility of going to Alaska to be with my dad while he recovers or while he dies. I think my dad would rather die drinking than live not drinking. That's a very hard pill to swallow. No pun intended.
So, that's kind of where I am today.
S. comes home tonight (I believe he is probably already on the road from San Antonio) and he will finally be here with me. I mailed K a check to pay her back the money we owed her an we will see her on May 2 at a festival we're going to. But that's okay. And my dad's resting, somewhat uncomfortably, in the hospital.
I kind of wish I could feel complete and unadulterated joy about my husband coming home without having the threat of my father's health hanging over my head. I just don't know what we're going to do.
** added: I did not, although I considered it, allow myself to have a bulemic episode yesterday. **
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Thursday, April 22, 2004
I KNOW YOU WANT WHAT'S ON MY MINDHowdy.
First of all, I want to thank everyone for the amazing support you've shown me through this thing with my dad. I talked to him again yesterday and he's quite loopy, which means he's quite drugged up still. He seems to believe they performed the surgery (to repair two ulcers) endoscopically -- but that treatment is not recommended, from what I've read, for ulcers caused by the medicine he was taking, so we're going to try to talk to a doctor today and find out if he's right.
He says they will need to keep him in the hospital a few more days (probably more than that, in our estimation) and so we're just going to make a point of talking to him every single day.
So thank you.
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In other news, S. will be home as best as I can tell, some time on Friday night late. So I have moved the counter to reflect that. I'm still going to call it two days, because I'm counting today and tomorrow.
I have explained that he will have to get up at 7am to let the carpet cleaners do their thing, and he doesn't seem in the least bit fazed by that. I fully plan to attack his naked air force ass and throw him on one of the beds in the house that doesn't have too much crap on it, and force him to have sex with me until the eyes roll into the back of his head and he can't do anything but sleep.
I'm sorry, was that my outside voice?
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So, I'm having an issue with this "Friend" of mine that I've written about a couple times now. I find the need to clarify that this girl has been my "best friend," or one of my "best friends," since I was about 14 years old.
Lately I've been reviewing our relationship in my head and it has always been tumultuous. When we were around 18, maybe 19, she used my relationship with one of my friends to convert herself into romantic partner, and moved all her stuff into his apartment. The details are foggy, I don't remember if we were on a weekend trip or something and came home and found it, or what.
But what I do remember is, she and I had a falling out (I think I got mad at her and accused her of using me to get to him, but I honestly can't remember) and she
So anyway, now she's friends with all the people I was friends with in high school and sees herself as the hub on a spoked wheel, holding everyone together, and I am completely on the outside of that group. It's not like I hate my life, but I often wonder what it would have been like if I had stayed a part of that gang. They're still close.
And then this friend and I joined together to help another friend, and I guess I considered that you know, as us fixing everything between us. But it's always been not completely right, not completely normal. Hardly see one another. Do anything for each other but not that close. You know? Strange things. When our friend Nancy came along and K instantly got closer to her than she was to me, I didn't care because I love Nancy too. But now there's another new girlfriend and there's another wedge.
I think she's trying to find a way to cut me loose, that I'm a burden on her. After taking care of her mom's house and cats for 6 months and trying to find homes for them and all that stuff.
bah.
So yesterday I emailed "the girls" and told them about what's going on with my dad. N wrote back and was very supportive and kind. K never wrote back.
K's the one who accused me of having a pity party, so I'm sure she figures I'm creating all of this in my head just so I can have something to be worked up about and get other people to feel sorry for me. Fuck her, man.
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In other news, there's a gal in my office who's making me completely insane. She walked up to me, four feet from me, looked right at me, then looked at my BOSS who was standing with me...
POINTED at me, frowned at my boss, and said, "Is she okay?"
I looked at her, in the eye (or would have if she'd have had the balls to look at me, which she wasn't) and said, "I'M OKAY."
She glanced at me, looked back at my boss, wrinkled up her brow and said, "Well... okay..." then asked another question that had nothing to do with me, and wandered off.
Interestingly, I mouthed off at that moment as she was walking away and said something like, "HOW AMAZINGLY RUDE DO YOU HAVE TO BE TO TALK ABOUT ME LIKE I'M NOT HERE, WHEN I'M STANDING RIGHT HERE?" and "I CAN NOT BELIEVE SHE JUST DID THAT!" The lady in question didn't say one word to me or make eye contact with me for the rest of the morning (and was offsite for the remainder of the day) so I think she might have heard me. I don't rightly care.
That was the second day in a row she'd done that. The first time was Tuesday when I found out about my dad and was on the phone with my sister, obviously distraught, I think I was crying, and I got off the phone, turned around, looked at her, she looked at my boss, she's standing 3 feet from me, and she says, "What's wrong with Rose?"
I'M FUCKING RIGHT HERE GOD DAMMIT JUST ASK ME WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME YOURSELF AND STOP BEING A CHICKEN SHIT.
Phew.
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I've been having these dreams that are really freaking me out. I'm sure they are a result of what's been going on with me, waiting for my husband to come home, but I'm still freaked.
Three nights in a row now I've gotten up in the a.m. with a strange, tortured feeling. You see, I am dreaming about random people that I don't know, and I'm dreaming that I am madly, completely, totally in love with them, clingy, needy, desperate for them. Whole dreams focusing on seeing the other person and whether or not we can find time together and how great I feel when they hold my hand or look at me.
And then I wake up in the morning and I'm laying in my bed. And for a moment I'm sad, until I fully wake up, that I don't have the benefit of that dream any more. And then I'm sad because I AM madly in love with my husband, and I AM desperate for him, and he's not here either.
It makes a girl feel really, really alone. I'm just glad that at the very least, the alone portion of our program can change starting tomorrow night.
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Wednesday, April 21, 2004
IT'S TIME I DISAPPEAR
At the risk of someone commenting on how much "drama" I have in my life or how things are "never boring" around here, I am going to summarize my yesterday. I didn't even want to blog about it, because I have a lot of emotions, and so I'm just going to lay it out there and then try to get on with what would undoubtedly be another Wednesday.
At about 2:30-3:00 p.m. Arizona time, I got a phone call from my sister letting me know that my dad is in the hospital in Alaska. He had a bleeding ulcer (two, actually) and was slowly bleeding to death. He had emergency surgery to save his life and is currently in the hospital, we aren't sure for how much longer.
I don't have any big details, as my dad sounded a little loopy when we talked to him. I highly doubt he's going to ask us to go up there, as he kept insisting he was fine and that they were taking good care of him.
But, there is no doubt that if he had laid down and gone to sleep instead of getting up and going to the doctor or hospital, he'd be dead today.
It seems my dad's developed quite the Aleve habit. For those of you who don't know anything about that shit, it will fucking rip your insides out. He was taking six a day for arthritis pain. Don't take it, and don't let anyone you know take it. It will perforate your stomach and your intestine all the way to your bowel.
S. stayed with Shanna last night. I think he tried to call me at about 10:30 or 10:45 my time, after I'd already been in bed for a couple of hours. I don't even know where he is right now, I can only assume he's either on the road or getting ready to hit the road to San Antonio.
My last night was not very fun. I woudln't recommend it to anyone.
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Tuesday, April 20, 2004
PARANOID
Which Rock Chick Are You?
inspired by Shanna
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S. IS ON HIS WAY HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He passed his class, is making one more drive thru Biloxi to take a couple more pictures, and is hitting the road.
He will be staying tonight with Shanna and Baret in Baton Rouge, and then he's going to stay with his mom in San Antonio on Wednesday (and maybe Thursday).
This means I might see him Friday, or Saturday at the latest.
YAY! HE'S COMING HOME!!!!
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I am constantly amazed by the merry wanderers that come in here through Google. Here's the newest batch:
nasty asians
Criminy. When are you people going to stop calling Asians nasty? Oh, was that a pr0n reference? Sheesh. No nasty Asian porn here, thanks.
arm pit lump
Yeah! I got rid of mine a long time ago! But welcome anyway.
easy panchos to knit
I don't even own a knitting needle, but if I did I would probably stick it in my own eye.
typed rose
As opposed to what? Typed rose, handwritten rose?
hard on me lyrics bonfire
I have no idea what this means.
video of me masturbating
Okay. So what dork is searching on Google for this? He wants a video of himself masturbating? Like Google is going to know who "me" is? Video of ME masturbating? Gah. While lately I'm probably the queen of self love, there will be no videos here.
Bertos ice cream
Apparently I live in the town where this thing is located and I have never seen it. But I keep getting hits for it. I am STILL the #2 Google listing for, "Bertos Ice Cream." I'm going to have to track it down before I move and see what all the fuss is about.
racers shitting on lawn
I've known racers to do some pretty shitty things, but shitting on a lawn?
should I be worried about my girlfriend going to Mexico
If you're worried, you probably have a reason. Just my theory.
Bah. Oop. Ack. Pfffftht.
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Welcome to anyone finding me here from Campus Frenzy. Thanks for the link, stick around, pull up a chair, read, bookmark me, come back.
Thank you.
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Some very good things have happened in the last couple of days.
- I have received all of my tax refunds and soon will have them all in the bank.
- My house is completely clean.
- My laundry is almost done.
- I've lost more weight.
- I found a good deal on some wine at the store that I like.
- S. is bringing home a whole CASE of wine we can't find here.
- Diet Vanilla Pepsi was on sale.
- I didn't buy chips or cookies or candy.
- I had a dream where everybody loved me and gave me flowers.
- I talked on the phone to S. yesterday and he had to tell me 3x that he's loaded up the car and is ready to "get the fuck out of Biloxi."
I wish I FELT like I were losing any weight. Just so you guys have an idea, without me telling you how much I actually weigh, if I were going to get to "middle range" for my height, then I need to lose quite a bit of weight. Ugh. Not like it's another person or anything, but it's significant. Fortunately for me, I don't feel like I look like I'm as heavy as I truly am. But I gained about 40 pounds in the last year. Ugh.
I don't want to turn my blog into a diet blog, because I believe there are many people out there who do it better than I ever could, but part of this blog thing is being honest. Ya know? So, the honesty about it is, I've gained some weight. I think I'd give my right arm to be able to wear the same outfit I met the night S. met me.
I'd like to apologize in advance that I probably won't have much interesting to say this week, my brain will probably be on "blah blah blah S comes home" but keep reading, I'll turn around. :-)
Here's a good one, how about - Give Rose Advice Day:
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Remember back when I told you guys about my friend who reamed me for my stance with my dad and told me I'm full of self pity?
Well. Although I've had limited email conversation with that group of gals (3 in all not including me) she hasn't written back. I even found out some information I thought she would think was valuable and passed it along to her specifically, and haven't heard anything.
I'm sure she's going to tell me that she's just been busy or whatever.
But. It kind of pisses me off.
I think she's just done with me, which is kind of frustrating. I don't imagine I've ever been a bad friend in particular, as a matter of fact I watched her mom's house for like six months after she passed away and I found homes for two cats and I have volunteered for a lot of stuff and so has S., and now maybe she's just looking for a reason to move on.
She's got a new friend.
I know that sounds terrible, jealous even, but she does. One of the three girls in question is the "new friend," and they hang out together all the time, and it's just kind of a pain in the arse.
I'm so grateful that I have wonderful girlfriends like Kristina, and Shanna. I am also amazingly grateful that I have friends like Maury, without whom I don't know I could get through a day. So why am I so frustrated about this one girlfriend who's got a bad attitude and is kind of blowing me off? I think it has something to do with my need to feel accepted. Geek children have the need to feel accepted.
Kind of a double-edged sword... bitchy enough not to really care, but at the same time, I want to be liked.
That's part of what makes blogging a challenge for me. Knowing that I need to be honest and vent here and write about the things that make me tick without feeling like I have to write to entertain an audience... to me the biggest compliment is if I can write about what's going on with me, **and** STILL entertain an audience...
So, if you're one of the folks who comes here and reads me cuz you dig it, I just want to say thanks. You give me a sounding board. I might not do it FOR you, but I don't know if I'd do it without you.
Yeah. Scatterbrain. Jeez. Can I get laid, already, please?
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Monday, April 19, 2004
LIVING ON THE EDGE
Let me just begin this fine Monday morning by saying my family is completely insane.
One perfectly good example is this:
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Rose: [taking a bite of a sandwich - and - chewing it]
Mom: What did she say?
Rose: [mouth full, looking at mom] Unh, wellmph, she saidh unh -
Mom: Don't talk with your mouth full.
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She also commented on the size of my pants, whether or not my hair made my round head look smaller, how she didn't like the fact that I wasn't put together, and how she didn't like my hair.
Welcome to my world.
My weekend was FULL of people finding fault with me! For example, the lady at the salon:
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Rose: I'd like my eyebrows waxed, today.
Aesthetician: Eyebrows?
Rose: Yes.
Aes: [shines the evil salon light on Rose] Hm. And lip. And chin.
Rose: No, really, just my eyebrows today.
Aes: Oh, no, you need the lip and chin, too.
Rose: But I really only want the eyebrows.
Aes: $7 for lip, $7 for chin. $26 for everything today. Okay? Eyebrows, lip, and chin.
Rose: How about I do my own chin and you do my eyebrows and lip.
Aes: All three, eyebrows, lip, and chin. $26.
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What the hell, it was like arguing for my life. I let her do my eyebrows, lip, and chin. Learned my left eyebrow is thinner than my right one, she plucked hairs OUT OF MY NOSE, and I came out of the room two minutes later after RIP RIP RIP RIP RIP RIP RIP looking like I had a little sun. Heh.
But at least my face won't have any stragglers for when S. returns at the end of this week.
Hm, let's see, what else.
I had this conversation with my dad the other day:
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Dad: Your sister sent me an email and called me a liar.
Rose: I don't think that's what it said.
Dad: Yes, she called me a liar, a cheat, an immoral and incredulous person.
Rose: That's not what it said.
Dad: She compared me to _________ and said I'm a liar!
Rose: Dad, I read the email. She did no such thing.
Dad: Uhhhhhh... you read it?
Rose: Yes. I think she used the word "dishonest" but all the other stuff, she never said any of that.
Dad: Oh. You read it. when did you read it?
-------------------------------------------------
So, my sister sends my dad an email that tells him she knows he's telling "people" that she said all those things about him... liar... cheat... blah blah blah... and he writes her back and tells her that the "problem" with hearing things second hand is that you get the "other person's assumptions" and "wrong perspective"... and that HE didn't WANT to have her get the info second hand. And that he NEVER said that she called him a liar, only that she IMPLIED he wasn't truthful when she used the word, "dishonest."
Excuse me!? I've been emailing for a week and talking on the phone for two weeks with that man BEGGING HIM to tell my sister the facts HIMSELF because neither one of them wanted to talk to the other one! *I* am the one who corrected HIM about the facts of the communication.
I'm so fucking over my family.
I told my sister on Sunday that I'm not going to contact my dad any more for a while now, he's going to have to get ahold of me if he wants to talk about all of this. This is just completely fucking insane. FUCKING INSANE. I think my dad is losing it. Honestly, I think he's completely fucking losing it. I think he's going insane.
In OTHER NEWS!
S. comes home this week! Well, it might be next week by the time he gets home, but we're in the single digit days and we're down to one week at the most. He could be home as soon as Friday, and he might be home Saturday. It all depends on how much time he spends in Texas with his family on his way back through. If he only stays overnight one night with his mom, then he's going to be home on Friday sometime. It makes me very excited.
I just feel like the pressure lately, emotionally, from all of these other things going on, it's all been just completely insane. I've been having a really hard time holding it all together, and I can't rightly figure it all out. I used to be great at holding things together by myself. Maybe for the first time in my life I'm really depending on my husband for stuff.
So, we're in the home stretch. The house is getting clean, everyone here is healthy and happy, Murphy the cat is back to normal and taking charge of "his" house, Cody (the dog with cancer) is doing real well on his medication and is going to make it to see his dad come home, things are good.
Things are all real good.
Let's hope I can feel "real good" about everything all week, eh?
Oh, and my lip has no hair.
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Friday, April 16, 2004
SHAMELESS PLUG
My husband updated his blog.
Please go there -->now<-- and read it.
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Blogspot doesn't seem to be recognizing a "www" in front of a URL. For example. WWW.GREATGOOGLYMOOGLY.BLOGSPOT.COM isn't responding the same as GREATGOOGLYMOOGLY.BLOGSPOT.COM.
So if you're having trouble seeing some blogspot blogs today, update your blogrolls.
that is all.
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[roll cheesy game show music]
Good morning and welcome to another episode of Dysfunctional Family Feud. Let's get started, shall we? Aha! Who have we here? The returning Champions, Rose's Family. Can you introduce yourselves, please?
Dad: I'm, uh, well, I'm her dad. I drink too much, I'm a self-made successful businessman, and I want to date a 24 year old. Also, I hate her mother.
Mom: Oh, shit, I guess that would be me. Gosh, this is so exciting! I'm Rose's mom, I live one mile from her house, um, I phone her three times a day just to check in, I don't want to date anyone, and I'm constantly critical of her weight. And, I unconsciously feel closer to her sister, because her sister has already made me a grandma. Thank you! Woo!
Sister: Yeah, that's me. I'm her sister. I'm two years younger but everyone's always thought I'm older. You've got to know what you want in this day and age, you know? Shouldn't be afraid to go after it. Um, I'm pissed at my dad, and I stay close to my mom when it's beneficial for me, and um, well, I think my sister is pretty dumb. Yeah ROSE'S FAMILY YEAH! (jumps up and down)
[applause]
Okay, thank you, Rose's Family! And let's see your competition! That would be.... Rose!
[cheesy music]
Okay Rose, why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself?
Rose: What's going on?
[laughter/applause]
Great! Thanks, Rose! Okay then, let's get started with THE FEUD!
[cheesy music, Rose and her father approach the podium]
Top three answers on the board, and here's the question: Name something that would frustrate most -
[buzz!]
Yes, Rose's Dad.
Dad: Dating a 24 year old woman.
Let's see if that's on the board, he says, DATING A 24 YEAR OLD WOMAN.
Dad: With three kids.
I don't know if we can - judges? Can we accept - yes, yes, they're saying it's okay. So now again, to the board - dad says, DATING A 24 YEAR OLD WOMAN WITH 3 KIDS. Survey said!
[*ding*]
Number one answer! Fabulous! Okay Rose, go back to your um, well, I guess it's a stool over there, and I'm going to spend some time with your family. What do you think, Rose's Family, can it be a sweep?
[applause/music]
Okay sis, here we are. You're looking lovely today. Now, let me review the question. Name something that would frustrate most-
Sis: Not calling me at 7:00 a.m. to talk about my dad.
Would you like me to finish the question? Let me read it again for you. Name something that would frus-
Sis: Not telling my dad that he's full of shit.
Okay, we're jumping the gun just a little bit here. Let me start over. Name some-
Sis: Not defending me against my dad when he's got it all screwed up and is completely WRONG about what he has to say!
I really need you to let me read the ques-
Sis: You know, I don't know what the problem is here, it seems like there's always this vicious triangle of people mad at each other, it's either me-mom-Rose, or me-dad-Rose, and I just think -
Rose: Can you get on with it and shut her up? I'm trying to watch The Apprentice over here.
Sis: Oh yeah, that's one. Calling me when The Apprentice is going to be on, because I wouldn't have time to talk then. It's too bad you're having to do this now, Rose, I got to watch the whole thing interruption-free.
Rose: Yeah, imagine that.
Okay, ladies, hang on. Let's get back to the topic at hand here, shall we? Okay, sis. Name something that -
Sis: People should drop whatever they're doing, even if it's watching The Apprentice, and tell me everything I want to know, right then, because I live my life on my schedule. Gotta get things how you want them, you know. Life's too short.
Okay sis, sounds like you have a little bit of a Veruca Salt syndrome. Do you want an Oompa Loompa, too?
Sis: Huh?
Back to the question. I really need you to concentrate now. Name one thing that would frustrate -
Sis: If he wants to keep a secret, then he just -
I really need you to focus. Pay attention. Name one thing that would frustrate -
Sis: I'm going to call his friends and ask them what they think of his girlfriend. That's my answer. Calling my dad's friends to see what they think of his girlfriend.
Rose: Jesus christ on a cracker.
Okay, that's her answer, CALLING DAD'S FRIENDS, survey said!
[buzz]
I'm sorry, sis, that's a strike for you. Maybe mom can do a little better. Okay mom, and you're looking lovely as well. Let's see here. The question is, name one thing that would frustrate even a very patient adult child.
Mom: What do you mean, "adult child?"
I mean, if you had a child, and they were an adult, what could you tell me that would be something frustrating for them?
Sis: I'm trying to tell you, mom! You should say dating a 24 year old -
Mom: Be quiet, now, I'm trying to answer the question.
Sis: But Rose was talking to me while I was -
Mom: Honestly, now, the longer you make this take, the less of The Apprentice I can watch.
Sis: You should just listen to me for a sec-
Mom: Isn't it late for you to be up?
Sis: But I just want to -
Rose: Hey, I missed the whole first hour of The Apprentice talking to her. Mom, have you gotten to see any of this?
Mom: You just need to go to bed. I don't want to talk to you now.
Rose: But you don't understand, she really thinks I did something wrong here -
Mom: Rose, don't talk to me any more, go to bed. I'm sorry, can you disconnect her microphone or hang up on her or something? Here, we're hanging up on her.
I don't know if you can really hang up, uh -
[*click*]
Okay, um, mom, well, do you have an answer? Name something that would frustrate -
Mom: Hanging up on her.
Okay! Answer from mom is, HANGING UP ON HER! And the survey SAYS?
[*ding*]
And that's the #2 answer, Hanging Up On Her. Okay, back to dad. Dad, name one thing that would frus -
Dad: My girlfriend, she's really great.
Okay, but can you tell me -
Dad: That's my answer. My girlfriend is REALLY GREAT! Woo!
Uh... okay. Dad's answer is, GIRLFRIEND REALLY GREAT. Survey says?
[*buzz*]
Aw, sorry dad, but there's a chance for sis to save it. Okay, sis, back to you, lovely as ever. Name one thing that would -
Sis: It's her job to defend me.
Okay, well, as for this question, I need you to name -
Sis: I don't know why he talks to her and won't talk to me.
All righty then. So, I need you to name one thing that would -
Sis: I'm not going to fucking call him! He needs to call ME! He's the one who should be calling ME!
[*buzz*]
Oh, I'm sorry, one answer left on the board and three strikes. That means Rose has a chance to steal!
[applause/music]
Okay, Rose, here's your big chance. One answer left on the board, and you can steal, you have one opportunity. Ready? Name one thing that would frustrate an adult child.
Rose: I missed the whole first half of the Apprentice, my take-out sushi got warm, I had two glasses of wine, and I'm kind of drunk.
Um, so I just need you to -
Rose: Yeah. I'm going to bed now.
But I just need you to answer this one -
Rose: Bill won, I'm going to bed. I don't rightly give a shit about much else. Except, can you lock them up?
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Thursday, April 15, 2004
EXTRA, EXTRA:FAT ACCEPTANCE ACTIVIST SPRAINS HER RIGHT ASS CHEEK
DOCTOR PUTS HER ON LIGHT DUTY
CORTISONE SHOTS PENDING
Okay.
The next time I complain about being achy or tired or fat, someone please remind me that there are wackos on this planet that:
- Have much more of a weight problem than me.
- Preach about how much more healthy "fit fat people" are than "thin people" are.
- SPRAIN THEIR ASS CHEEK carrying a box up some stairs.
- Blame the stairs for being "out of code."
- Wear ice packs on their ass to help it heal.
- Go on LIGHT DUTY AT WORK for a little bit of ass pain.
- Did I say she SPRAINED AN ASS CHEEK?
- Got the doctor to put her on LIGHT DUTY at work.
- Is happy she doesn't have to DO anything "strenuous" like lift the water cooler bottle
- I'm sorry, did I point out that she SPRAINED HER ASS CHEEK WALKING UP SOME STAIRS?
I know. Snarky. I know. I just think it's karma. Berate a bunch of people who are trying to get their lives and their health together, who are trying to be more active, take control of their weight and their health, and then SPRAIN AN ASS CHEEK CARRYING SOMETHING UP SOME STAIRS AT WORK.
What a fuckin' maroon.
I'm sorry, was that my outside voice?
ASS CHEEK!
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I'm not sure exactly what happened.
I took a sleepy-eze pill at around 7:30 last night, figuring by 9pm I'd be ready to go lay down. Went and laid down somewhere around 9:15.
About 9:30 my phone rang. Long distance ring. It was my dad. I chose to answer the phone because I had, after all, told him to give me a call if he wanted to talk about the laundry list of questions I had given him.
Here's what happened.
He wanted to talk about them.
Turns out that he wasn't mad at me for what I said. He didn't even question - once - the reasons I gave him for being "uncomfortable with" or "unable to get behind" his relationship with the young girl. He just wanted to review my questions.
As it turns out... all of my questions were valid, and it is some of the points I raised in my information-seeking that are things that are coming between him and the girl in question right now anyway.
Go, me. Critical thinking in the face of fear and freaked-outedness. Go Rosie. Go Rosie. Go Rosie.
So.
We talked for about an hour. He is definitely, definitely, enamored with this girl. I don't know how that makes me feel any more. He had to do his typical stupid-mean-dad thing and tell me that no one, including my mom, at any time in his life, has made him feel this happy, he's never loved like this before.
I was like, you never loved my MOM?! but I didn't say anything. I mean, what to say really?
But, the issue of her children is going to be a sticking point, and they might not be together. Since he plans to retire in Mexico, as the weather in Alaska is bad for his health, about the only way he can see to definitely maintain a relationshhp with her is to build himself a house in Alaska and live there.
So.
He's still going to take her to Las Vegas, and he still wants me to meet her, and I suppose I am going to meet her.
My dad has never understood my point of view. He didn't judge me for what I thought or for not being 100% supportive. He just read what I had to say, expressed what he thought, and an hour later we got off the phone.
Maybe things are turning around. Maybe.
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Wednesday, April 14, 2004
HERE COMES THE SUN, AND I SAY... IT'S ALL RIGHT
Cuntrageous Bitch paid off the truck. (scroll down in this entry, you'll see the story). Paid in full and taken off S.'s credit.
Amen.
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Last night was an okay night, I suppose.
After sending my dad the email, I figured I wouldn't hear from him. I was just eating some dinner and trying to calm down and get thru the night when my phone rang at about 7:00p.m. It was the "long distance ring." I looked at the number, and it was my dad.
Not knowing if he'd read the email or not, I let it go to voicemail and hoped he'd give me a clue one way or another. Turns out he was apologizing for not getting back to me the night before, and was very up and cheerful.
So what did I do? Freaked out, had another panic attack, and lost my dinner. Thank you, after-effects of bulemia.
When I'm under huge amounts of pressure for anything, it's very hard for me to eat and/or hold anything down. It's like my body just refuses to eat, preferring instead to bathe itself in the adrenaline that pumps through me when I'm freaked out. So, I started off just feeling queasy, then went to burp-queasy, and finally about 2/3 puked, so I just had to find a toilet and let nature take its course.
And I get on the scale this morning hoping it might look like I just didn't EAT dinner last night, but of course that's not the situation either.
So. I will assume that my dad will get my email some time today. I sent it to a few friends to read, and everyone agrees that I was not disrespectful nor did I tell him that "he" is "wrong" or anything like that. I can only hope he reads it with as much foresight, because it could make my life completely miserable if he reads it the wrong way.
I just want my dad to know that I can't get behind this situation the way he'd like me to - I expect him to do what he wants to do regardless of how it makes me feel, but he needs to know I don't rightly approve.
So now I have a very busy, big day at work today and that'll help me get through it... but I just wish I could go back to bed. We're closer and closer to S. coming home and I have to have a crisis like this.
I mean - don't get me wrong. I know I thrive a little bit on the crisis. It helps me get through the weeks sometimes if I have something to worry about. But THIS? Why THIS? THIS is a little bit crazy, don't you think?
Thought about posting a portion of the email I sent him but I've convinced myself not to, at least for right now.
Just keep your fingers crossed for me that I don't have to have a drunken conversation with my dad any time soon, k?
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Tuesday, April 13, 2004
GIVE YOU A HEART ATTACK
I sent an email to my dad.
It was quite straight forward.
It contained many questions.
I told him I don't approve.
I am now having a panic attack. Not joking. Feel like I'm gonna puke, started sweating, et al.
I am typing this in the hope that it'll take my mind off the panic attack, but it's not happening. I have to make it like 15 more minutes and then I can take a walk and go get a salad and some fresh air.
But I did it and there's no turning back now.
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Last night on the way home, I had a brief conversation with my father.
Yes, about the girl.
He tried to tell me that my sister had written him a "scathing" email in which she called him a "liar, a sneak, a cheat, an immoral and incredulous person" - he didn't count on me having read the email. So when I told him I was positive that wasn't what the letter said... he took a whole new tune with me and told me he'd have to call me back.
Of course, he did not call me back.
I have some to some conclusions over the last few days and have decided I might as well just be up front, as harsh as that might be, with my dad over this deal.
I still think that I'm a fairly bad person for not being able to accept my dad unconditionally for what he's doing, in spite of the fact that he's never accepted me for what I've chosen to do.
But that's the point, isn't it?
I've lived my whole live wishing for acceptance. I haven't DONE anything to try to GET the acceptance. I mean, I haven't changed around the choices I made. I still went to the same college even though he didn't approve, I studied the same major (even though he called me about 3 months before I graduated, told me I had wasted four years of my life and would be flipping burgers at McDonald's when I was 35 years old), dated the same guys (even though he'd call me and tell me what longhair hippie losers they were) and married my ex (even though he apparently took me out of the will when I chose to marry him, and didn't put me back in until I got divorced). My dad has called me too fat, too emotional, too intellectual, too smart for my own good, too stubborn, he's slammed my head against walls, smacked me, beat me with implements like belts, switches, wooden spoons and bread boards, he's emotionally traumatized me by telling me that the reason he used to beat up my mother was because I made him "stressed out," he's berated my personal and life choices, where I lived, where I worked, how much money I made... he's called me a bitch, a cunt, ungrateful, unthoughtful, good-for-nothing, piece-of-shit, and as recently as a year ago or so, told me that I would never amount to anything and I would always have a "piece of shit life" because I was nothing but an "ignorant geek."
Yeah, this is my dad.
So I'm worried about what I have to say to him, why?
No, I am not exaggerating the things in that paragraph. Ask me about any of them and I will give you the accompanying story. I don't have a problem discussing it. It's part of who I am, it's helped me become the person I am today - but why am I worried about what he's going to think of me?
It's like every day, every month, every year, I think it's going to be different. There's going to be something different, something that's going to make him love me, something that's going to make him appreciate me, something that's going to make him proud of me. About the only time I think I've ever seen him look proud of me was when I graduated from college (I'm the only one in my immediate family to graduate from college until very recently, but the other one is a cousin and my dad doesn't give two shits about my cousins). But even then, he wasn't happy with my choice of schools (Arizona State, I had full scholarship) or my choice of majors (Liberal Arts - Spanish Language and Latin American Studies with Portuguese/Brazilian emphasis). I know, I know. But I'm fluent in Spanish and live where that's important and I learned a lot and I still have a good job.
Look at me, justifying things to YOU.
My dad, he's never been supportive of stuff. He shows his approval or his support through money. That's just how it's always been.
What makes me think he's suddenly going to approve of me? He's going to like me until he gets his way.
My sister said to me last night, "Can you imagine being out somewhere with the two of them, our dad and this 24 year old girl (and her three kids?!) and having him start talking to us the way he talks to us? Can you imagine him scolding us and berating us in front of this... this girl? This 24 year old girl? Our dad, telling us how stupid we are, in front of her and her kids? I'm not going to put myself through that."
Yeah, I don't think I should, either.
I had composed a brief email to him but I left it at work - I'll have to dig it out and see if I can find it. Since he was supposed to call me back last night and never did, I'm assuming he didn't want to have the conversation becuase he knew where it was going... and where it's going is, I am really uncomfortable about this situation for a lot of reasons and even if I can't put my finger on them, I KNOW something isn't right.
And I'm going to tell him. I can't support something that I think isn't right.
I've always lived my life on principle, enough that it's alienated me from my destructive, self centered, egotistical, right wing conservative alcoholic abusive dad.
I don't know why I should change my game plan at 34 years old.
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Monday, April 12, 2004
GUERILLA RADIO
First, let me point out that the hubby updated his blog. Complete with a picture.
Good morning.
It is, once again, Monday. Not my favorite day of the week by a long shot, but it brings me a day closer to what will probably be my favorite day of the last 93.
I can tell that the stress, and for him the pressure, is weighing on us. Both. We haven't seemed to be able to chat or talk for any period of time without having some strange misunderstanding. It's like we're looking for a fight, or worse, tuning out some of what the other one has to say and then misunderstanding it. It's rather disconserting, considering neither of us are "fighters" per se - at least not in the context of this relationship. We have good discussions and try very hard to understand one another, but as for fighting, we don't do a whole lot of it. So when we do, it just makes me... really... sick. I mean, just sick to my stomach, don't want to do anything, sick. That's most of why aside from four loads of laundry and managing to keep myself fed on Sunday, I didn't do much of anything. Slept late, went to bed early, chatted a few times with him in between, ate some soup, watched some TV. I was a lazy ass. I'm sure on some level I deserved it, but I was also just trying to avoid the feeling that a fight brings.
I had some awful dreams this weekend, too. I have a *HUGE* meeting coming up this Wednesday, and I dreamed that it was a complete and total cluster-fuck, and that everyone wanted to blame me for its amazing, outrageous cluster-fuckness. I don't consider my job to be a high pressure job. Some days there's a ton of work and some days there's not as much work but all days what we do is very important... but I don't usually have dreams where I envision myself royally fucking something up. Thank you, Mercury In Retrograde, for letting me do that.
I also didn't hear from my dad this weekend, which I thought I might. Makes me wonder what's going on, on his end of things. I have a letter I will probably send him this week.
I'm glad Mondays usually go pretty quick for me, and I'm going to have plenty of things to keep busy with. It means that sooner than later, I will be home and back in my pajamas, eating some warm soup and ready to go to bed (after tackling some more laundry and something else productive on the way to having One Clean House.
I guess I'm just a smidge pooped. When the weekend's not long enough for you, what do you do?
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Saturday, April 10, 2004
I WANT A DOCTOR TO TAKE YOUR PICTURE
Happy Easter.
I went to my grandma's house today and spring was in full regalia. While many of the bulbs I gave her for Christmas had not yet emerged from their winter slumber, some flowers were. I took about 50 nice shots, but this is one of my favorites. I love macro floral photography.
I haven't REALLY used my camera in almost a year. Gotta get back into that. As I go through some of the other shots, I will post them. Just in case anyone's wondering, nature photography is kind of my "thing." Because I'm in a situation where I have restricted bandwidth and I am still too damn cheap to upgrade to blogspot plus where I can host images, I don't post many pictures here.
So anyway.
Today at my grandma's, I was kind of... forced... to see how sick my grandpa is getting. He's just getting old, and the things that plague him are old age. He doesn't walk so well, he has very little energy, and he's got some health problems.
My grandfather is not my mom's father. My mom's father died when I was about 6 months old, and I never got to know him. When I first met the man I now call Grandpa, I was probably 6 years old. At that time, he was a friend of my grandma's and we called him, "Uncle Fred." I remember him being ALIVE and VIBRANT and full of life. He used to show up to the door of my grandma's house wearing a suit and a straw hat. I don't know why I remember that, but I do. He was so fun, so kind, so happy.
My grandpa has grown to find happiness in all of the wonderful events of our growing up, and has come to view us as if we were his own children. I don't know, for sure, if he has any children or grandchildren of his own. I don't think he does or we would have heard about them by now - my grandma and grandpa have been married for most of my life. But to see him grow old and get sicklier... it's very hard.
One of the hardest parts about it, is my grandma is vibrant and alive and wonderous for her age, and she finds herself taking care of him. It's not that she doesn't want to, she DOES WANT TO. She takes amazing care of my grandpa.
Kind of at the expense of herself.
So, when we go up there we try to take the burden off her. Cleaning dishes, the like. Doing whatever we can so she can have a couple-three glasses of wine and chill out.
My cousin(s) brought their new girlfriends. Both of them seem really nice. I have interesting feelings about the one girlfriend but that's for another time, as I probably shouldn't be blogging right now.
Urp.
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Friday, April 09, 2004
NOW I'M GETTING REALLY ANGRY
Why are you people not reading Alex?
She's an amazing blogger.
Go read her. Blogroll her. Read her every day.
She's a military wife stationed in Japan with her husband, and she tells a great story.
Pretty please.
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Yes, that is a song lyric. It is by the fabulous artist, Butt Trumpet.
So anyway.
I bought a new scale, because I could no longer stand getting on The Exorcist scale. You see, I'd get on it three times in the same hour with no change in my consumption and it would weigh differently by up to six pounds.
Now, the new scale is consistent but is giving me a weight higher than, and different than, the Exorcist gave me.
So.
At least it is consistent, but I can no longer have my weight counter be "right." So I have to re-adjust it and start it over today.
Because scales FUCKING SUCK MOLDY ASS.
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Tonight, I am going with my friend Brenda to eat sushi. I'm quite excited about that, as I haven't been in over a week. She called ME. I have created another addict! Muaahahahahaha!
S. and I had a lot of time on the phone and computer last night, which is always a blessing. He's starting to get more forceful with me when I rail around and get off track. That seems to be happening more and more. He suggests that we did not adequately prepare me for this 3.5 months away, and that he wants/needs to do a better job next time of giving me some structure to lean on while he's gone instead of grasping at straws.
He's also not afraid to jump in now and totally put the brakes on when I start getting a little bit frantic. My friend Maury has also been doing this. For a while there in the middle of this process, with S. being gone, I was able to function quite a bit more "normally" than I have been the last two weeks or so. I'm lucky that I'm making military wife friends through our military-wives webring, and that I have friends that TOTALLY understand what it is I'm going through - or that WE are going through. I still know I'm blessed that I can talk to him every day if I want to, which I always want to... but the fact remains, this is not the last time we are going to be apart and I have to get a better grip.
I know I haven't been very good. Scattered. Little things seem a lot more important than they really are. The cat threatening to pee on something sends me into a fit of frantic scrambling. It's cat pee. I can clean it up and spray it with enzyme spray and they're coming on the 24th to clean the carpets, and by gently correcting him I can get these strange multiple-cat-household neuroses out of his head and get him back to using the box every time. This I tell myself. But I still freak out.
Man, man, man. I just want him to come home. I wish I could say he'd come home and we'd just be able to relax and live happily ever after, but there's a lot of work to be done before that can happen. Work on the yard, work on the house, work on me, work on us.
Just counting down the days.
Bring on the sushi.
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Thursday, April 08, 2004
IT'S ALL THE SAME, ONLY THE NAMES CHANGE.Howdy.
I've tried to think of way after way of making today's entry, and the only thing that sticks in my craw is something that I don't paticularly agree with but feel I should post about. I always have said, at least to myself, that I blog for me and because it's something that helps me work through some of the day to day crap in my life. So, here goes.
I was having an email convo with "the girls" yesterday, a couple of my good friends and one gal who I've known a couple months. And the one girl of the three who's been one of my best friends, flew off the handle when I mentioned this thing with my dad and his possible 24 year old girlfriend/fiancee/whatever the hell she is.
I don't have the actual item here, the email, but I will summarize.
First, she feels sorry for me that I can't conceive that a 24 year old woman and a 65 year old man could possibly be in love with one another. I am judgmental and prejudiced because of that fact, and I should know better. Not only that, but I should make the happiness of my father paramount (haven't I been doing that?!) and whoever he wants to fuck or whatever he wants to do should be of no consequence to me.
Then, depending on the email and the stage of her anger and her own pointed perspective, either I should be happy for my dad because I'm his child and that's how it should work... or... I should be so pissed off at him that I should have divorced him long ago anyway and it shouldn't matter to me whether he's happy or not, becuase he beat me and mistreated me as a kid and young adult so it shouldn't affect me even if he's miserable.
Are you still with me? Yeah, I started to get a little confused there too, but I guess I'm getting a grip and getting it figured out a little if I'm able to post here.
So. Let's be clear. She said I'm prejudiced and judgmental and shouldn't care.
Then. She told me that she's tired of my "poor me" and my self-pity trips, and she's been holding this in for a while, but she wishes I would pull my head out of my ass and be grateful for all of the things I have and how good my life is, because I'm nothing more than a sad sack. Not only do I think that I have bad luck because I'm so wound up in what's "happening to me" that I don't think of ANYTHING ELSE... but that I bring the bad luck on myself, I cause the difficult moments to happen, just because I drag the rain cloud around. I do not have any joy in life unless I am in pain and suffering, I need the sick and disgusting negative feelings in order to feel accomplished, and if I don't have something wrong in my life I go seeking it out. I have a psychotic need for negativity and sadness, and that's why I revel in it.
Okay.
Now I was thinking about that a lot last night, and I decided at some point that I was probably going to stop blogging. That if she's right - and after all, she's known me for like 16 years - then blogging was doing nothing more than preserving and enhancing my desire for the whole "poor me" and self pity and everything else, it's a cry for attention, it's a way for me to beg for people to have as much pity on me as I have on myself, and I should probably stop because I'm just enabling myself to be a bigoted prejudiced jaded judgmental moneygrubbing whore of a daughter who cares too much about her dad and wails too much about the problems in life.
All right.
So, that happened kind of lunchtime yesterday, and I never rightly recovered. I got home and had a sandwich and chatted with Alex until about 10:30 last night, when I finally went to bed. They kept me occupied and kept my mind off that strange tirade. Alex helped convince me, at least for now, to keep blogging because it doesn't rightly matter what my friend K said.
I'm sure I just have to deal with it.
So thanks, ladies.
---------------------------------------
I'm taking the thing with my dad and the chippie harder than I thought I should. Part of what is so disturbing for me, I suppose, is that I truly thought I would be able to say, "Groovy pop, do what you want, hope she makes you happy." But, I'm having a really, REALLY hard time with that. Whether it's because of details I haven't shared here in totality, or just my strange gut feelings, I'm having a really rough time of it.
I want my dad to be happy. Can't he be happy with someone who loves him for who he is? Would it be possible for this girl to love him for who he is?
She has three kids - is she going to take them to Mexico if she were going to live with my dad? If so, how will that work? How will my dad be able to enjoy his golden years if he is raising three small children (oldest is 7 years old)? How will she have the time to devote to him if she is busy raising her kids? How will they do the "adult" fun things he wants to do, take weekend trips, jet set around, enjoy himself, if they are always having to worry about the children? How will young children adapt from a large metropolitan lifestyle to living in a town in Mexico that barely has a drugstore and a supermarket?
If they aren't taking the children, then who is going to take them? How do you make an arrangement like that? "Excuse me, brother, but can I leave my kids with you to raise for 10-12 years while I go to Mexico and live with my new boyfriend until he dies? OH, he's 65."
Who gives up parenting their children for something like that? And what kind of family would take on that responsibility? If she quits her job to move to Mexico, who will support the children? Who will pay for their care? My dad?
The questions just keep coming, and I can't find any end to them.
Have a good day, y'all.
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Wednesday, April 07, 2004
WHEN I WROTE THIS SONG, I WAS LISTENING TO THE CURE A LOT.
Oh somebody kill me please,
somebody kill me pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease,
I'm on my knees,
pretty pretty please kill me.
I want to die.
Put a bullet in my head.
---------------------------------
Yesterday sucked ass.
My family is still upside down about my dad and the girl.
I helped my sister re-write an email four times before she sent it to him.
A few of us at work got "in trouble" for something that wasn't our fault.
I fought with my husband, on MSN Messenger, for about an hour yesterday.
- It was like we were speaking different languages, and it sucked.
- He didn't understand me, and I couldn't make him.
- I tried three times to apologize and he just kept telling me I was pushing him and making it worse.
- Every time I tried to explain, he got defensive and it just made it more painful.
- Every time he tried to ask me what the fuck was going on, I got defensive and it just made it more painful.
- He said, "I guess I'm lucky you don't know where the key to the gun in the house is. He doesn't know how true that felt, at that moment.
- I went to bed in tears and feeling like nothing was resolved, AND IT SUCKS FUCKING MOLDY ASS.
My mom and sister think I need to be more "forceful" with my dad about how I feel about this relationship with this girl.
- It might not even come to fruition.
- It sounds like they are getting a lot of pressure from other places.
- If I piss him off right now he is not obligated to keep me in the loop about how things are going, and one of us needs to be in the fucking loop.
- If I do and see everything he asks in an effort to be more "understanding," and I still do not "understand," then he will have less to argue about.
I had a dream last night that I had a scab over my eye and when I pulled it off I could see little worms eating the flesh behind my scab and eggs from some kind of bug.
- I tried to pull the little worms out with a tweezer but they bored deeper into my skin and into my head, where I got more sick.
- I tried to squeeze them out like a zit but that did not help.
Last night at 11:30 I heard a terrible crash but could not figure what made the noise when I patrolled the house. I found it this morning.
- It is one of S.'s framed mustang posters.
- It's the one with the picture of the "Eleanor" Mustang on it.
- The glass is broken, the frame is broken, and the poster is scratched.
- It's not like they were expensive, we got them at the Swap Mart, but still.
- Murphy did it.
I am still tired. I wish I had been able to get to the bottom of the issue with S. before he gave up and I went to bed. I wish I hadn't cried.
Yesterday I had a greek salad with not all the cheese and half the dressing, and a cup of tortilla soup for dinner with a glass of wine, and a lot of water. And again I am not losing any weight. I eat like a bird and nothing happens.
18 days. Why do the last days have to be the worst ones?
------------------------------------------
Oh somebody kill me please,
somebody kill me pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease,
I'm on my knees,
pretty pretty please kill me.
I want to die.
Put a bullet in my head.
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Tuesday, April 06, 2004
DA. DA. DA.
Mercury is in retrograde today until the 30th.
Bah.
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Well, things aren't quite back to normal yet at Casa Rose, but we're working on it.
When they came to get Noki last night, it was a hard time for me. I went through a lot of emotions, and S. really had to reach out to kind of get me put back "in my place" and get a little bit of a grip. I felt like a failure as a mom, a failure as a kitty mommy, a failure as a head of household, because I have been unable to manage Noki and Murphy together, and make them live together as happy siblings.
After they took her and loaded her into the car, I kind of expected Murphy to start working back into his normal life - but that hasn't happened yet. He peed on the carpet in the bedroom (read: sprayed against the wall in the bedroom) much to my dismay, which left me to spray the entire area with enzyme spray and mop it all up. He followed me from room to room. He wouldn't let me out of his sight. He still wanted to drink out of the toilet.
I kept leading him out to the kitchen and standing with him near the food bowl and the water dish, in the hopes that he would realize that no one was going to attack him if he went for a nosh or a bevvie. I think he is, after being led out there twice more this morning, NOW starting to figure out that he isn't going to get attacked if he goes in the kitchen by himself. I'm hoping he starts relaxing back into his old routine of being the alpha male animal in the household, because I really need him to start getting back to normal. He's such a wonderful, regal cat and to see him relegated to slinking and sneaking around and not wanting to be anywhere I wasn't, well, it's just sad.
They tell me that she's doing well over there, and with time hopefully Noki will settle into their household and become the wonderful loved part of their family she deserves to be. I'm figuring out that it doesn't have much to do with me being a great mommy, as I am a great mommy to two wonderful dogs and one cat and a great wife to one wonderful soldier. But I still want to be all things to all people, and it makes it a little bit rough.
I just hope he stops peeing on shit now. We've got to stop the shitting at random places on the carpet and peeing on things stuff, or I'm going to have a serious problem. Huge. I sincerely hope he is able to get back to normal, because this half-insane cat stuff, this just isn't going to work.
-------------------------
My sister and I are suddenly banded together by this thing with my dad and the young girl. She phoned me this weekend and wanted to talk to me about what's going on with dad, because he had called her. Unusual, I thought, because he had told me specifically not to talk to her about what was going on. I asked her what she had been told and she filled me in - just about everything. Except my dad had told her that *I* am "liberal enough that I understand and accept" the new woman in his life. I obviously took offense.
In addition, I told my dad I didn't think bringing her to Las Vegas would be the best thing, since we're going there so I can meet my new in-law family and have a honeymoon, and I really didn't want the whole trip to end up being about him and his young little woman. He told me that I shouldn't worry about it but apparently, he told my brother in law that he didn't much care what I thought, he's bringing her anyway.
I had a long phone conversation with my dad and then three or four more with my sister this weekend. I already mentioned the cordless phone dying, and that's a sure sign of being on the phone way too much. By the time it was all over, I was in tears. I was a worthless, sniveling, blubbering pile of goo over this whole deal.
The more I talk to my dad about this situation, the more I realize some things. I even made an effort to tell him about them. Here's some points I made to him:
- If I had a friend who was 24 years old (with three small kids) and she was dating a 65 year old man (let alone a 65 year old man in poor health who's full of piss and vinegar and not the best looking guy) I'd probably be disgusted.
- I would also make all sorts of assumptions about her motivation.
- So would the rest of the world.
- I'm having a hard time accepting it "just because the guy is my dad."
- I haven't met the girl.
- All I know about her - and her relationship with my dad - is what he tells me.
- He would NEVER expect me to make a decision about something or someone, blind, like that. But suddenly he's asking me to do that.
I mean, there's way more to that list. We had a 90 minute conversation. But the more I talk to my sister and the more I talk to my dad, I am convinced he's telling me only part of what's going on, and he's telling me the things I want to hear. I understand he's telling my sister separate and different things, based on what he might believe she would want to hear, too. So we're getting not... conflicting... information, but he says things to me like, "You'd really like her, she's smart, smarter than you even, I'm sure you guys could have some great intellectual conversations..." and then he'll turn around and tell my sister, "She's a great dancer, I took her out to the club and she wowed everyone. She danced with a lot of people but when she came back, she always sat with ME."
Because I wouldn't give two shits if she knew how to grind her ass against some hot club stud, or how great it looked, but if we wanted to discuss Jean Paul Sartre I'm your gal.
Fuck.
So I guess he's taking her to Las Vegas for MY HONEYMOON TRIP and I'm going to be obligated - no, let me take that back - my sister, BIL, husband and I are going to be obligated to meet her.
It'll all work out no matter what we decide to do. I suppose I have to get myself ready to tell him - because I know myself and I'm not sure how I'd be able to handle this - that even though I've met her I still don't like the idea of the two of them together, and let him do whatever he wants to do. I'm already back to living my life as if I'm not getting anything from him anyway, and I'm not sure how I briefly got sucked into the concept of not "having" something left if he passed away. I feel strongly about the Mexico house because I want to live there, I want to spend my dying days there, but S. and I are just going to have to find a way to get their on our own.
--------------------------
I believe we're going to be able to do it, too. In spite of the fact that his Selective Re-Enlistment Bonus for the job he just was told to cross-train into, has been removed. Hopefully the USAF will come to their senses some time in the next three years (he's up for re-enlistment May 07) and bring it back. Here I am now, praying for people in the Network Administration field in the USAF to start jumping ship so they have to start offering bonuses again. For those of you who aren't familiar with that concept... if a career code is "critically staffed" and they need lots of people to GET IN or STAY IN that career field, they offer a re-enlistment bonus. The bonus for the field that S. is training into right now was supposed to be between $50,000 and $60,000 for re-enlistment. That's a lot of money. Well, they went through two years of telling people of his age, rank, and time in service that they had to transfer out of the job they had into another field - and there were tons of jobs needed in Network Admin - and now that they've got everyone where they want them, they are "re-aligning" the bonuses and the bonus for his career code (and many, many others) has been completely removed. Folks who were "told" to crosstrain into those careers were not grandfathered in. It just got yanked.
It's not like we were counting on that money to be able to live, but it's a lot of money. Enough to get all of our debts paid off if they weren't already by then and let us have a nice nest-egg started. When you're making ends meet it's harder to put away enough money into your 401(k) that you'd be able to naturally retire on it. So, you know, that's kind of a monkey wrench into the control freak plague that haunts me. Now I'm trying to figure out what we're going to do without $50,000 that we didn't have yet and might not have received anyway and haven't spent. Someone smack me upside the head, would you please?
----------------------------
Daylight Savings Time is making me kind of crazy. See, Arizona doesn't change our clocks. So while the rest of the country is Springing Forward, we face half a year of being one hour a day farther away from our friends and family. I haven't chatted with Shanna in about a week now and the time difference ain't helping. S. is now two hours ahead of me instead of one, which means when I'm settling into my groove at about 8pm he's getting ready to go to bed instead of having an hour's worth of chatting with me. My sister's family is now three hours different instead of two, and that makes it rough too.
Daylight Savings Time. Bah.
------------------------------
Well, Murphy is here in the office with me sitting on a chair, still unwilling to venture outside of this room. I can't rightly figure out why he hasn't pissed on everything in here if he refuses to leave the damn room. I don't know. I suppose I'm just a little pissy in general.
So what's different about that?
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Monday, April 05, 2004
TIMES LIKE THESE
I should never blog when I've been a-drinkin'.
I don't have a whole lot to say right now because I'm not ready to talk about any of what happened yet.
I'll just say that some of it was my husband (which is resolved) and most of it is the rest of my family, specifically my dad and this young chippie of his, and how it's affecting my whole family. I think my cordless phone battery died three times between Saturday and Sunday, just because I was on the phone for HOURS with my dad, my sister, and my husband trying to get things straight in my head about it all.
I guess I should be glad I even have the wherewithal to be able to go over it in my head and make some kind of plan for myself.
It just frustrates me that I even have to make a plan.
So, until we get it all figured out, I'm probably going to have some more stress. I just have a hard time dealing with all of it, and now I'm having to teach my sister how to deal with all of it (she's even worse than me, at dealing).
Ugh.
I'm sure you can dig it.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Sunday, April 04, 2004
YER PRETTY WHEN I'M DRUNK
Okay. I'm tipsy.
I wanted to tell everyone that we registered "www.enchanted-rose.com" for our incense business.
So, when we get it all up and running, who's going to buy our creations?
C'mon. Tell me. Speak up.
Yeah, I'm kind of plowed. If you had the two days I've just had you'd be plowed too. I suppose I might write about it later. LEt me just say that my family is falling apart around me and there isn't a whole lot I can do about it.
So I'm miserable, like any good control freak would be.
Just fucking miserable.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Saturday, April 03, 2004
HALELUJIAH ZIG ZAG NOTHING, AND MISERY IS ON THE LOOSE
Cupid - Jack Johnson
how many times must we go through this?
you've always been mine, woman. I thought you knew this.
how many times must we go through this?
you'll always be mine - cupid only misses sometimes.
but we could end up broken hearted
if we don't remember why all this started
and if they try to tell you love fades with time,
tell them there's no such thing as time.
it's our time.
----------------------------
I like this song. I imagine it is what S. would say to me when I am feeling alone, sad, or deserted, without him or needing him, insecure, betrayed, and lost.
Considering that's how I'm feeling right now, I figured maybe typing out the lyrics might make me feel better.
I have some very real issues relating to abandonment, insecurity, and the like, and my limits were tested in the last 24 hours. Sometimes, people don't consider how their actions are going to affect you, and it's the last thing on their mind when they do or say (or do NOT do, or do NOT say). I will always struggle against some of my baggage and some of my issues regarding personal relationships.
Now, I have the beginnings of what I pray is NOT a migraine headache, due to having about two hours of sleep and tossing and turning. I also don't want to eat anything, which is a bad thing for a former bulemic/anorexic, and have tried to choke down some food without feeling like I want to throw up.
I had a variety of plans this weekend, all of them revolving around being productive and getting things ready around the house and making myself beautiful and centered around the happiness of S. coming home, and now I don't want to do anything, and haven't done anything.
I am going to see "Hidalgo" and hopefully that will take my mind off of some of it. Dreams of Viggo Mortensen. Yum.
And hopefully I won't get another migraine. And maybe I will get something done around this pigsty of a house tomorrow. And maybe I'll sleep tonight.
Maybe.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Friday, April 02, 2004
COME ON COME ON COME ON LEMME TELLYA WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT
Okay. Look.
"Googly Sex" guy. The guy who comes here searching for "googly sex" through Google like, every day or every other day, sometimes twice a day.
Congratulations.
I am now the #1 site on Google, for :"Googly Sex."
WILL SOMEONE FUCKING TELL ME WHAT GOOGLY SEX IS PLEASE?!
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Shanna brings up a very interesting set of questions about love. Now, since I know that she knows what love is, and that it is in fact true and very real, I’m not going to pick apart her thoughts about this ever-present subject.
But I find it interesting that she would bring it up, because in the last two days I’ve had two separate people tell me that they wanted to know more about S. and I – specifically, questions like:
Did you know when you first met him that he’d be the man you were going to marry?
The answer to that question is pretty much, no. I was charmed and attracted to S. the first night we met in person. I was interested in S. when we met in the Yahoo! Chat room and started talking late one night. It was a nice conversation, or two or three, before we actually met. I remember sitting across the table from him at Applebee’s and talking about everything and nothing. I couldn’t exactly tell you what we talked about, I don’t remember specific topics. I just remember getting kicked out of Applebee’s at last call and not wanting to go home, and praying he wouldn’t want to go home either… and being very happy when he suggested we find somewhere to get a cup of coffee.
I might not have known that we would be married – and certainly wouldn’t have imagined we’d be married in one year and one week… But I knew something was different.
On the late/overnight date that morphed into “the first morning he kissed me,” we were at a video arcade and we were playing some driving game, but we had to keep switching in and out of the seat. And I could see his reflection in the screen as I was playing. He wasn’t watching the game, he was looking at me. I knew then that something about him was different from the men I’d wasted my time with before. At the very least, he found something about me interesting enough to not let me go.
I didn’t honestly figure we’d be getting married until we’d been together about six months and he started talking about wanting me to be with him, living together, and the like. I didn’t think he was ready to get married, being recently divorced, and I wasn’t even sure I was ready to get married. But little by little it all started falling into place for me, and for him, and soon there was no doubt.
----------
Do I believe in love? Yes. Do I believe I’ve found it? After a lot of looking and a whole lot of pain and frustration, I do believe I’ve found it. Without a shadow of a doubt, actually. My love for my husband runs through my veins with a strength I can’t even describe. I completely and totally adore him. He’s everything to me, and I never in my life dreamed that I could enjoy the fruitful relationship I have now, or anything close to it.
My romantic history reads like everything from a bad sitcom to a horror movie to the five-hour Lifetime Movie Of The Week. I had pretty much given up on love.
But when you truly know that love’s real, you can’t ever completely give up on it. That’s why I know Shanna is just going through a time, and she’s going to come through on the other end possibly a little more scuffed up but definitely stronger, wiser, and with more love in her life than ever.
Kinda like me.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
... or listening to a fucking CAT FIGHT IN MY LIVING ROOM.
At 2:11 a.m., I was roused from a hearty, drool-filled sleep to the symphony of clattering dishes, cat skulls thumping against walls and coffee tables, one of them flying into the laundry room door, and the constant howl that can only be called a cat fight.
I'm guessing Murphy actually VENTURED OUT into the house last night (after curling up next to me and pressing tight up against me so I couldn't get out of bed) to get a drink of water, or to get a bite of canned food, and got ambushed.
I laid there, thinking it would be the typical three-second stint that I'm used to.
I was wrong.
I laid there, thinking I could just turn over and go back to sleep without breaking it up.
Nope.
So, I got out of bed, rubbed my eyes, walked down the hallway thumping my hands on the wall and making a sound that is probably reminiscent of our ancestor the Neanderthal: Urrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhllllrllaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuurrrrrrrrgh!
I heard the perp run out of the back living room and saw the flashing eyes of the victim in one of the corners under a table.
I scooped Murphy up - he was wet, I still can't figure out what that was from (stopped and checked him for blood and the like) and carried him down the hallway towards the back of the house. He just howled, and howled. I put him down and he went in the office and got on the cat tree (safe spot) and I went back to bed.
It was pouring rain. I mean, pouring rain so hard I could hear it on the roof. Fortunately for me, that lulled me back to sleep.
In other news, S. has confirmed that his school is actually over with one day sooner than we thought it was. His last day of class is the 20th. Which means he can be on the road, for real, on the 21st. It is therefore possible that he could be home by the 24th, and I am all but counting on it. So I have changed the countdown ticker to represent that fact.
So, in other news.
Troy, my fave guy on the Apprentice last night, got fired. Bah. Now I'm guessing it's Bill. Amy's going to sucker Nick right into where she wants him and then Bill's going to take advantage of all of their turmoil and he's going to come out of this thing the big winner. I'm not even taking Kwalme into consideration, he's just kind of a non-factor.
Golly, what else? Slow news day today.
I have a little bit of a headache but it's because I had to wake up at 2:11 a.m. Yes, I was counting. 2:11. I'm just kind of a little tired and a little weirded out. Got some news at work that I won't have a definite on until Monday or Tuesday, and my boss is out today so I can't even hope to get some... you know, peripheral information. Nada. Except the paid time off thing worked out, because I do in fact have about a day's worth more hours than I thought I did. Wahoo! I'm going to take three days off the week S. comes home.
I'm sorry this entry is just amazingly and blindingly boring. While I can't make myself liable for the ocular damage that has surely occurred, I can certainly tell you that I will attempt a more fruitful entry later in the day or the weekend, depending on whether or not something amazingly cool happens to me.
Because I am, amazingly, cool.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
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
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