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

Tuesday, November 30, 2004



I couldn't help it.

I just couldn't.

I had been piddling around with this design a while back and never got around to doing anything with it. Today's cold weather has inspired me.

I reserve the right to flip flop back and forth. You have the right to be patient with me.

Isn't winter inspiring????

I know, I know. *deep breath* *heavy sigh*

Hell hath no fury like a woman who's getting halfway decent at her fucking Blogger template.

Rose typed all this stuff at 9:44 PM | #





Okay, y'all, it's 20 degrees here. Let me reiterate that. It's 20 degrees. 20 degrees. 20 fucking degrees.

Or it was, anyway, when I got up. It was like 29 degrees with a wind chill of 20. There's ice flakes and the remnants of snow on all the cars in the parking lot. And I'm ready to go get myself some deeeeericious German coffee that we get at the BX with low carb Vanilla creamer and try to get warm.

You see, I was just outside.

That's the dangers of owning a dog, I suppose. And even more danger of owning a dog who is not only spoiled and loveable and wonderful, but is so full of love that there's no room for brains.

I've mentioned that he doesn't like the rain, right? And how he'll cower in the breezeway rather than actually heading down the stairs to try to go pee if it's even sprinkling. He doesn't like the water. Or at least doesn't like the water when it's coming from the sky (he will run through puddles all day long if given the chance). Well, he's decided he likes the cold. Doesn't mind it a bit. Would rather take a walk that's 2x as long as the normal one, actually, just so he can take a steaming pee on every frost-covered holly bush in the complex.

Picture it. Me, in my double-layer coat, hat, gloves, hood, long sleeve shirt and blue jeans. Him in nothing but his big ears and a leash. And we're off!

It actually didn't seem like that big of a deal once we got out there and got walking around, but now that I'm back inside the apartment my nose and ears are tingly and I can feel the flush on my cheeks. It's not a bad thing, not in the least. Don't get me wrong. I actually feel refreshed. It's been a very long time since I had to deal with real cold. I used to think 40-50 was cold, and complain about it. I wouldn't mind a 40 degree day today (but we aren't supposed to have one of those until later this week).

Snow. Dude, we've had snow.

So, here I sit in the lovely home office listening to my Musicmatch radio (Best of New Wave, thank you very much) and waiting to hear back from a new client of mine. Turns out I'm going to pick up a job transcribing interviews for some court cases in Spanish. The client didn't even BLINK when I quoted her my Spanish transcription rate. Apparently it's all she does, and she's going to have a lot of it to do. So that'll definitely help me fill up my schedule, or keep it filled. It's always slow coming off the holiday, but I figure by mid-week everyone will be up to speed and sending the work down the pike again.

In the meantime I think I'm going to go to Michael's today and get some things to decorate around here. Our neighbors are decorating their balconies and the like with lights and garland, so we're going to try to decorate in a tasteful way that also expresses our Paganism without throwing it down someone's throat. Something that makes us happy and other folks can just appreciate the holiday-ness of it. Shouldn't be too hard to do. So, here in a little bit when the store opens I'm going to head out. Do a little light shopping.

I also did some Christmas shopping yesterday for S., and I'm quite happy. So far, so good. It's going to be a nice holiday. We aren't going to have any family around for Yule or Christmas this year, so it's just going to be us. I just have to get everyone else's presents bought and shipped off to them by around the 15th so I can make sure they get where they're going. Oogh!

So did I mention it's fucking cold here?

Rose typed all this stuff at 8:36 AM | #


Sunday, November 28, 2004



Hello, everyone! I'm finally home and back among the land of the living bloggers. Thank you everybody for your comments while I was gone!

Mick: You think that was a good voice? I'm getting over laryngitis. Not so much. But thanks anyway! I guess the scratchy husky voice can be kind of sexy or something. I don't know.

So here I am typing away on my new ergonomic keyboard, trying to get used to it so I don't develop carpal tunnel syndrome and crawl in a hole and die. I'm not moving quite as fast as I'm used to, but at least the health of my wrists is no longer in question.

Everything in Texas went fabulously, and as anyone could have guessed my fears were unfounded. I got along so well with his entire family, and we had a great Thanksgiving holiday. As a matter of fact we were having so much fun I forgot to blog!

I went and got a manicure with my mother-in-law, which was awesome, while the men went out to the AF base to look around and do some shopping. I also discovered a wonderful store called Garden Ridge, which is going to put a dent in my husband's wallet as I use it to give the ol' homestead a better-than-Martha-Stewart holiday makeover.

The drive down, after Dallas, was even more interesting. We got stuck in rush hour in Austin. I decided that if I ever had to live in Austin, they would either have to throw me in jail for shooting someone in rush hour traffic, or I'd become an alcoholic because I'd have to have a martini or six waiting for me every night when I got home. So for now, thank god there's no AF bases in Austin.

AND... do you guys like the new layout?


Rose typed all this stuff at 1:26 PM | #


Tuesday, November 23, 2004


this is an audio post - click to play

Rose typed all this stuff at 2:36 PM | #



this is an audio post - click to play

Rose typed all this stuff at 1:36 PM | #


Monday, November 22, 2004



I'd like to introduce everyone to my good friend Tragic, and his new blog, "Janitor of Anarchy." Tragic is an old friend of mine who recently tracked me down, found my blog, caught up on my life, and then IM'ed me to tell me so. We've been catching up like crazy and I'm happy to say he's started a blog. So. Go now! Read him! Blogroll him! Bookmark him! He's going to be a great read, methinks.

In other news, Serene_Dharma is an absolutely FABULOUS military wife who has just relocated with her husband from overseas to American soil. Another great read, please go by and welcome her back to the States!

And finally, my friend Robin is a military wife who, one day from the time of this posting, gets to have her HUSBAND COMING HOME after being deployed in the desert. CONGRATULATIONS ROBIN!!


Rose typed all this stuff at 3:59 PM | #




So. I have to get something off my chest, and that's what this infernal contraption is for, so here it is.

I've been having some serious self esteem issues. Serious ones. Very serious ones. Serious to the point that I am bordering on reverting to some old behaviors. I find the best way to avoid a situation like that is to be honest with myself (and my blog) about it.

I'm a recovering Bulemic. That's a very real and very true part of my life. When I was about 16-17 years old, I took to pigging out and puking up. I actually injured myself doing so at one time. I, like most good Bulemics, managed to keep it a secret from my mother, my father, my sister, (most of) my friends, and the rest of my family as well. I was shapely and cute, I had lots of friends, and I could wear the clothes I wanted to. Didn't matter that the "clothes I wanted to" were T-shirts and jeans most of the time. It was control.

Bulemia is a disease of control. I type that over and over in this blog to reinforce it to myself and burn it into my brain. Bulemia isn't about weight loss, at least for me the weight loss was secondary. I just didn't realize that. My crash dieting, bulemia, compulsive eating, and mental symptoms of anorexia were all about control.

Bulemia helps me get control over at least one thing in my life. For that one second or five seconds or two minutes I'm in the bathroom yacking up whatever it is -- whether it's chocolate, or chips, or the healthy dinner I ate half an hour ago, or even if it's just bile... for that time period, I'm in control. It's one thing I could control. Didn't want that in my stomach? Kapow. I don't even have to stick my fingers in my throat or "spurn" the yacking. I can just think it, and it happens.

Somewhere along the line, though, my Bulemia got control of me. I was on the wagon for a number of years until I got married the first time. My husband didn't understand my problems with food or my bulimia, and would say things like: "Jesus, Rose. Puking isn't going to make you any skinnier right now."

that's support.

Anyway, fast forward to now. I haven't had a relapse since I was having problems with my dad in July. And even that one was a relatively short one. So imagine my surprise when I had one of "those" moments. Anyone who's gone through an eating disorder or a self-destructive disorder like cutting, will know what I mean. I had a moment. One of those moments where suddenly, it all comes back to you.

With me, I had what I'm going to call an "anorexic oment." I'm not anorexic like 80 pounds and wasting away. Far from it, actually. But I still have anorexic brain. One of the things anorexics deal with is a completely insane body image. I make no bones about the fact that I'm a big girl, and I like myself just fine. I'd love to lose a bunch of weight and it's very slowly happening, but oh well. So I walked past the mirror and looked at myself and for just one or two seconds, I saw every imperfection. I saw every cottage cheese lump, I saw every pudge, I saw every jiggle. That turned into a session where I was standing naked in front of my mirror, inspecting myself. Holding up my arms so I could see how my upper arms sag. Clenching my ass cheeks so I could see how not-sexy it is. Pinching my gut pudge and jiggling it. Torturing myself.


At that time, all the things in my head I've worked so far to suppress came rushing back to me. Fear about meeting S.'s family because they'll think I'm an elephant. What if they don't like me for me? What if I'm not good enough? Fear that I'm not losing weight "fast enough." Fear that I'm in poor health (although the doctor hasn't seen fit to counsel me about my weight in two visits). Fear. Fear and anger, denial and pain, all of it swirling together.

And I wanted to barf.

And I didn't.

But as I sit here today at the computer working along and trying to get things done before our road trip (leaving tomorrow), I realize that my anorexic moment and my need for control and my sudden hatred of every inch of my body is just my eating disorder talking to me again. It's feeding off of the unknown. Control. I'm going somewhere I've never been. To spend a holiday and the better part of a week with people I don't know yet. And I have fear they will judge me the same way my own family does. And that makes me feel out of control, because I can't dictate the outcome of any of those things.

So, I'm trying to pull myself together. I'm not eating foods that I consider "trigger foods" for my eating disorder. I'm not spending any more time in the bathroom than I absolutely have to. I'm trying to stay productive and keep my mind off things.

I just hoped that dishing it out here would help.

Rose typed all this stuff at 3:39 PM | #


Sunday, November 21, 2004



Um. Yeah. Okay. So, someone should have reminded me that I am getting old, with my impending 35th birthday barreling down on me like a locomotive at the end of a tunnel. The light just keeps getting closer, and the ground keeps rumbling harder, and I don't know if I should run away screaming, jump out of the way, or just let it run me over.

Interestingly enough, I felt this feeling not long after getting home from "the club" last night with our new friends.

Not living directly on the base and not being intricately involved with military on a daily basis really (I hide at home mostly), I can make myself forget just how tore. The. Fuck. Up. USAF guys can get.

Yes, the guys. I'm sure the girls can too, but there were plenty of USAF gals there last night and they weren't the ones making complete asses out of themselves.

Don't get me wrong, they aren't bad guys. I think they were just looking for a reason to blow off some steam (ORI's done, you know) and really let it all hang out. Since most of us cabbed it or carpooled it or were crashing at someone else's house, it gave us liberty to drink without the responsibility of getting ourselves home.

For the record, (1) we cabbed it, (2) someone carpooled with us in the cab, and (3) we expected one of the guys to be crashing at our house.

In reality, (1) we cabbed it, (2) the guy who carpooled with us in the cab heading down didn't cab back with us, because (3) he wasn't crashing at our house any more.

(4) Because he got completely fucking plowed. Wrecked. Annihilated. Good god, I can't remember the last time I saw someone that drunk.

So, another tipsy Airman decided to walk him to the nearest-to-the-club crashable house. There are some good things about that. We didn't have to wonder if he'd be getting sick in the cab, he wasn't getting pukified sick at MY house, and I didn't have to wash guest room sheets today.

So. Couple that with the fact that I got my drink on last night, and I hardly drink any more. A glass of wine, a beer, or a martini here and there, but I can't think of the last time I was actually tipsy. Last night I was pretty tipsy leaving the bar. Serves me right though, to drink cocktails from the well rather than the shelf. I think that's what totally kicked my ass. Well drinks bad. Bad. Bad.

This morning, both S. and I went through a round of "Damn, I'm getting too old for this shit." Me moreso than him.

But among the awesome things that happened last night are:

  • Arriving and having one of the gals put her arms around me and say, "Hey, pretty girl! You look FABULOUS!"

  • Having another wife guess my age as 25.

  • Having said wife call me a liar when I told her I'll be 35 in two months.

  • Same wife said, "Your husband's a lucky man."

  • One of the gals said, "Damn right he is."

  • My husband, when being told this story later, said, "Damn right I am."

  • On the dance floor, some young guy wanted to grind up against me and was all nasty dancing and stuff. So I figured I must've been looking pretty good.

  • Shortly after being "saved" by some of the people in our group from same nastydancer, was totally hit on by a lipstick lesbian who didn't seem to notice that I have a wedding ring and was there with my husband. She just kept saying, "But you're OUT HERE on the DANCE FLOOR by YOURSELF!"

  • They saved me from her, too.

  • Me and other new friend wife were on the dance floor when the DJ played, "Pour Some Sugar On Me." And for a moment I didn't feel like the oldest person there. Because the whole dance floor was full of us old fuddyduddies dancing and singing and pretending we were like, what, 13 again?

  • I correctly deduced that the gangly goofy looking Airman running around lifting up his shirt so girls -- especially hoochie hobag girls -- could see his battle scar, was a douchebag.

  • I successfully avoided the advances of a rather greasy young man who decided he wanted to kiss every girl at the table. I almost kicked him in the nuts.

  • Over all, I had fun.

  • Being tipsy, I did not have the ability to notice that my last night on our old disgusting mattress hurt my neck just as bad as all the other nights.

Our new MATTRESS came today! It is beautiful. Now I have to get on overstock.com and find some new bed linens so I can send the link to my mother, who insists she must buy us multiple gifts and ship them here since we're not going to be in Phoenix for Christmas. But then I would have to tell her I got a new bed. Which would suck. Because I don't tell her stuff like that, because she always manages to make it somehow her business how we manage our finances. And I'm expressly against that. So maybe I will go to overstock.com and just buy myself some damn bed linens.


Well, I have a full load of work tomorrow considering it'll be my last day of work for a week. So, I had better get off this confounded contraption and go lay myself on our delicious new mattress. Because I'd like to wake up in the a.m. without a neck-ache. Shyeah.

Jeez. I'm a little bitchy.

Rose typed all this stuff at 8:23 PM | #


Saturday, November 20, 2004



Our new mattress gets delivered tomorrow!

*happy dance*

I'm about to go get showered and shined to go out with a bunch of folks from S.'s shop, their wives and friends, to a big club down in Norman!

*happy dance*

We're taking a cab, so I can feel okay getting my drink on.

*happy dance*

S. is out getting some cash and picking up dinner. I told him if he stopped by Sonic, to make sure whatever he got me came with Tater Tots.

Rose typed all this stuff at 6:23 PM | #




Scene: Rose and husband enter IHOP for some basic chain food after buying a mattress.

Rose: Baby, did you see what the special was?
S: No.
Rose: Will you go look again for me? *bats eyelashes*
S: (sigh)
Rose: I just want to know what it is, I might get it.

S. goes and comes back

S: Country griddle cakes.
Rose: Thanks, baby. Does it come with hash browns?
S: I don't know.
Rose: I have to know if it comes with hash browns.

Rose goes and comes back. Breakfast-lunch is ordered. What we pray to God/dess is not a typical Oklahoma family enters the restaurant and gets seated at the booth behind us.

Dad: Do y'all have such a thing as snowman pancakes?
Very cute foreign waitress: Sir?
Dad: Snowman pancakes.
Children: Snowmen! Snowmen!
Mom: The girls seem convinced you have snowman pancakes.
Girl: We saw the sign!
Waitress: Do you want to come and show me the sign you saw?
Girl: Yes!

Girl and waitress go up front, then return. IHOP manager is in tow.

Manager: They just saw a picture of a Christmas card, but I'll make them snowman pancakes. I can do it myself, it's no problem. We'll charge you for a Funny Face.
Waitress: Funny Face. (making notes)
Dad: So you'll make her the snowman pancakes?
Manager: Yes.
Mom: Wow, that's special! They're making them just for you!
Manager: Just let me know when the order goes in.

Manager leaves.

Waitress: Can I get you something to drink?
Dad: Do y'all have tea?
Waitress: Yes, sir.
Dad: Do y'all have sweet tea?
Waitress: We have raspberry tea.
Dad: Y'all don't have no sweet tea?
Waitress: Uh.. we have... raspberry...
Dad: Aw, I'll just take a Coke or Pepsi, whatever y'all got.

Waitress leaves with rest of drink order, eventually returns.

Waitress: What can I get you?
Dad: I want me a club sandwich and tater tots.
Waitress: And what kind of club sandwich would that be, sir?
Dad: A club sandwich and tater tots.
Waitress: Sir, we have an International Club Sandwich, we have a Hamburger Club Sandwich...
Dad (opening menu and pointing to a picture): I want this one right here.
Waitress: Very good, International -
Dad: And tater tots.
Children: Tater tots! Tater tots!
Waitress: I'm sorry?
Dad: Tater tots. I want that there club sandwich, with tater tots.
Waitress: Tater... tots?
Dad: Don't you have Tater Tots?
Waitress: Sir, I don't know what those are.
Dad: Potatoes.
Waitress: We have hash brown potatoes, we have french fries, we have red potatoes...

Insert an eerie pause here. Even the children are silent.

Mom: Tater Tots. You know, Tater Tots. They're like hash browns. But they're rolled into balls.
Waitress: Oh. I don't know what those are. We don't have those.
Mom: You don't know what those are?
Waitress: No, ma'am.
Mom: Where are you from?
Waitress: Senegal.
Mom: Wow. They must not have tater tots there.
Dad: I'll just have fries.
Mom (to Waitress): You speak real well.

Rose: I'm so blogging this.
S: I think this is a Wi-Fi hotspot. Too bad we don't have a laptop.
Rose: I'd be typing so much I wouldn't finish my lunch.
S: *snicker*
Rose: *snicker*

About that time, S. and I couldn't stand it any more. We had to get up and go pay our check. And the restraint we exercised in not cracking up laughing BEFORE we exited the building is amazing. That's the funniest goddamn thing I've heard in a very, very long time.

Rose typed all this stuff at 2:48 PM | #




This is my zen fountain, which sits to my right on my desk. I love the way the water tinkles and soothes me throughout the day. I'm sure there is some kind of symbolism to the white rocks. I just don't know what it is.

This is why my cat likes my zen fountain.

And I wondered why my fountain was going through like a cup of water a day. Turns out, my spoiled brat cat is using it as his own personal recirculating water system!

And here is my hubby's new toy. Dual exhaust for his Mustang. See those beautiful stainless steel tips peeking out there? WoO! Everyone here's getting spoiled but me! Time to spoil ME!

And with that, we're out the door to go pay for our new mattress.

Rose typed all this stuff at 9:48 AM | #


Friday, November 19, 2004




Well, I'm waiting to get another file of work and I'm waiting to hear from ANOTHER company about some contracting, and then S. and I are going to head out of here to go lay on mattresses.

I think our trusty mattress friend has finally bitten the dust. You never realize just how caving-in your mattress is, until your doctor asks you to look at it. Wow. I tell you what, even with our lovely memory foam mattress topper, you can't get around the canyon that's forming at hip-level. I'd like to say it's because of the motion of the ocean, ifyouknowwhatimean, wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more... but it's probably just because it's old.

So! New mattress.

We were GOING to get a new one when we moved, then steered ourselves away from it. But I think the move was just the final straw for the ol' mattress, it's just zigged when it should have zagged one too many times.

We will be going mattress shopping in the Mustang, which is now the proud owner of dual exhaust. I hear she runs nicer, but quieter (which is an unfortunate drawback of replacing a Flowmaster with two standard mufflers) and that I've just "got to see it," so I shall. See it.

I'll also post some pictures if anyone's interested, but I don't know if it'd be nifty to see without seeing "before" pictures. I don't know.

I'm just a little out of it.

S. is napping on the front couch (day off today as comp for working overnight(s) in the ORI) and I'm pacing. Pacing, pacing.

Maybe I should try to nap.

Sorry for the boring update.

Rose typed all this stuff at 1:59 PM | #


Thursday, November 18, 2004



Feeling better, back to work, even the sun is shining here today. Although I don't doubt it's going to be pouring rain by the end of today, at least for right now it was clear and pleasant enough to take the dog for a walk - without a jacket on!


So, I just got an email from the hubby and he insists that he take me out for some sushi tonight. Yay! Sushi! It's nice to know that we can still enjoy things like that from time to time even though I'm only working part-time.

I don't know what's come over me in the last couple of days, but I'm definitely perking up. I've been thinking it's a bout of Seasonal Affect, but maybe I'm actually getting through it. I've been a little more excited about things to come, which is always great for keeping your outlook level and positive.

I'm even excited for S. and his new project -- he's getting dual exhaust put on his Mustang on Friday. Now. I don't want to sound like too much of a gearhead, and the fact of the matter is I USED TO BE quite a gearhead. But I haven't worried much about working on a car, upgrading a car, or hot rodding in some years now... I just feel happy for him because I know it's something he's wanted. He found the dual exhausts from a Mustang GT, basically brand new (stainless steel exhaust tips and everything) and found a shop here in town that will do the welding and fabrication. So he's one step closer to having done all the fantabulous things to his car, that he wants to do.

If you've never had a car of your own that you tinkered on and did things to it to increase performance, then nothing I've said here will affect you. However, if you have, or you KNOW someone who has, you'll know that something like this can be quite a big deal.

I'm just happy he's able to do it, and I am continually amazed that we're living on - and paying for everything with - cash. No credit cards are being used to finance these little forays into fun, and for that I am eternally grateful.

So. Friday, his exhaust gets put on the car. Tuesday, we head out for San Antonio to visit his family. And somewhere in between there, I have to get packed and ready to go. I can't believe it's already Thursday. Time flies when life's good, I suppose.

AND my back, besides being a little bit sore yet where the muscles were all out of whack, is doing great. I have full mobility and am very excited. I took ONE muscle relaxer. One. Damn, I love my doctor.

Okay, so I've been tweaking around with my header graphics and some other interesting tweaks, but I've decided not to "release" them until after Thanksgiving. It'll give me a chance to look at it fresh after not seeing it for a few days (Texas) and then I'll decide if I really like it or not. I'm learning a little more HTML and a little more CSS and seem to be getting pretty decent at this tweaking-the-blogspot-template thing. Makes me happy! I like being creative.

And as I look around, I see one spoiled dog on his own personal bed here in the office (there's also one in the bedroom, and one in the living room) chewing on his newest keep-my-teeth-clean bone, and the very spoiled, very regal cat sitting on S.'s desk looking out the window as if he owns the whole damn place and is the kind of all he surveys. And now it's time for me to go give the dog his gazillion dollar dog food (that we drove to Edmond to get the other day) and give the cat his gazillion dollar cat food. Oh, and the water's boiled for my ramen cup-o-noodles.

I want to be one of my pets. Can't I switch?

Rose typed all this stuff at 9:57 AM | #


Wednesday, November 17, 2004



Well. I love my doctor.

Have I said that I totally luurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrve my doctor?

D.O.'s rule, M.D.'s drool.

I've always liked D.O.'s instead of M.D.'s because of the "total wellness", "osteopathic" nature of their treatment. Rather than give me a handful of pills and send me on my merry way so I can take them and come back in three months to get more, D.O.'s have always been more interested in finding out the cause of the problem and really getting to the bottom of it. And fixing it.

So when I went to see Dr. C. yesterday, I had hoped he'd be able to give me some relief without doping me up on drugs. And he did.

He "adjusted" my neck and my back, being quick and careful to point out that he's not a Chiropractor and doesn't want or expect me to NEED TO come back for any adjustments... "As far as I'm concerned," he said, "I've fixed your problem and you shouldn't have to come back to see me for it."

He prescribed me a muscle relaxer for a few days because he doesn't want my muscles to tense up and go back where they were making me all hellaciously pissed off and injured. But aside from that, I walked out of the doctor's office a new woman. Thank you to all for the happy juju.

I can turn my neck both ways AND up AND down, I can get up, lay down, sit, stand, do the hokey pokey and turn myself around. And that, my friends, is what it's all about. It also means sex isn't off limits because my feeble crippled back can't handle it. Bow, chicka-bow-bow. Rawr!

So I haven't had any work, not yesterday or today. I'm sure tomorrow I'll be bogged down, so I'm not complaining. I've averaged about $100 per day of work, or just below that, since I started typing at home. That's nothing to shake a stick at, so I will survive without a little work for a couple of days so my back can rest.

So I'm all excited, now, we're planning our trip to Texas to see S.'s family for Thanksgiving. S. got leave from Tuesday next week until Sunday, so we're probably going to head out of here on Tuesday. Makes me all giddy. I'm a little nervous to meet them though. You see, right now they like or love me because S. loves me. Not because of who I am. I feel like I need, or want, to win them over on my own. So I'm hoping it'll work.

AND... since nobody's gonna come if we don't have punch and pie, I made another pie yesterday. This one was apple-caramel-pecan. I forgot to take a picture of it without any slices taken out, and there are already two slices out of it. So I'll have to see if I can get a shot of it before it's demolished...

AND AND... I have a new header design that I want to put up but it's not Thanksgiving-y and since this one is Thanksgiving-y I wanted to leave it up unitl Thanksgiving so I'm all freaking the hell out.

Rose typed all this stuff at 1:17 PM | #


Tuesday, November 16, 2004



My back is out again.

I tried to call the doctor yesterday but he coudln't see me until 10am today. I'm hoping he can poke and prod and manipulate my back so it doesn't hurt any more, or at least so it's not kinked up the way it is.

Kinked up can be good. But not when it's a pinched nerve in your back.

Looks like I theoretically will have a easy day today work-wise, and if that's the case I'm hoping I get to come home, take a muscle relaxer, and putter around here. Perhaps I will bake an apple pie with caramel and pecans. Yes, that sounds like it's going to be on the agenda, provided I can fucking FUNCTION.

I have to finish up one tape I couldn't do last night because my shoulder is evil and mean, and then I'm going to go get showered and cleaned up, walk the dog although it's raining, and gte ready to go to the doctor.

Now. Can I tell you why I have the best husband ever?

Last night after cleaning up after dinner, he walked me into the bedroom (I was having trouble getting around at that point, VERY stiff) and rubbed some heat lotion on my back and then when I got STUCK! on! the! bed! and! couldn't! turn! my! head! He held me and let me cry (it fucking hurt) and then lowered me carefully onto the bed. And gave me a pill to help me sleep. And sat there with me until I fell asleep.

That's love, baby.

So. Let's hope the doctor can fix this. It sucks ass.

Rose typed all this stuff at 6:39 AM | #


Friday, November 12, 2004



1) I picked up another huge job that'll keep me busy all weekend while S. is on nights for the exercise at the base, which is going to net me about $400, so I am very excited.

2) Of course, the lady who keeps me firmly supplied with work ON TOP OF THAT told me she's got a bunch of rushes, so I did them first today. And now I'm working on my big project.

3) It is freaking cold outside. Let me just make perfectly clear. Freaking. Cold. Outside. It is freaking cold outside.

4) S. is in bed, warm and toasty, snoring away. I am in the office working. The leaves are finally starting to change. And suddenly, things are starting to feel "right with the world."

Rose typed all this stuff at 9:53 AM | #


Thursday, November 11, 2004



Veteran's Day isn't just about the people who gave their lives. It's about our grandfathers and fathers, it's about our brothers and sisters, our uncles and cousins, our friends and acquaintances. It's about anyone who has "been there" and "seen it" and "done what they had to do."

It's about all of them, including the over 1,000 young men and women who have given their lives in Iraq.

It's about my fellow bloggers' husbands who are currently fighting in Iraq or getting ready to go BACK to Iraq.

It's about all the fine men and women in uniform who, whether they're currently with us in body or in spirit, have risked their lives for us.

Whether or not we believe in the war, we should believe in the people our country sends to fight it.

Although technically a "veteran" is someone who is no longer in the Armed Forces and has been discharged honorably, in this time of war I hope you'll join me in extending thanks, gratitude, awe and respect to all of those who deserve it on this day -- no matter when they did, were, or are, fighting.

Happy Veteran's Day.

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:07 AM | #




Last night was interesting.

I am, to put it mildly, in some kind of PMS-infested hell. Therefore, I've had less patience than normal AND less tact than normal AND less ability to be logical than normal. There, I said it. You men can't ever say I didn't admit to being a little hormonal now and then.

First of all, my new Laser Printer came yesterday! w00t. Second of all, the USB cable that we ordered at the very same time from the very same company, did not show up. Bah. It's supposed to show up today! w00t. But I could have used it yesterday. Bah.

The entire maintenance staff of the apartments where we live was in our living space yesterday. Due to the power surge(s) we've had, a couple of electrical things like kitchen lights et. al. needed to be fiddled with, in addition to repairing a chunk of fucking drywall that randomly fell off the wall (well plaster if you have to be specific here, but I'm living in hormone-drama-induced exaggeration world, so you will bear with me and you will like it.)

They also re-caulked my bathroom fixtures and painted over where they repaired the plaster and put some joint compound on the kitchen counters.

Okay, so let's rewind just a moment and state clearly for the record the Rose has acute environmental sensitivity. For the layperson, that means I am "allergic" for the most part (minus a histamine reaction) to many different types of chemicals. The most acrid, most evil, most absolutely hellacious of them all, is paint. PAINT, I tell you. So what did they have to do yesterday? PAINT.

The second most nasty of them all, is caulk. Is there any doubt why I wanted to crawl in a hole? The maintenance guys were awesome, don't get me wrong. They were very patient and kind, and it was nice that they wanted to do everything. at. once. But, I couldn't exactly turn them away, so I just you know, stayed in the apartment and watched them paint and caulk and spread chemicals and stuff. I had, after all, created the list for them.

I'm happy to have the mini laundry list of "things" done around the house, but by the time S. got home yesterday I was working on quite a headache. So let's recap. Got up early. Worked a lot. Sniffed paint and caulk fumes and tried not to touch joint compound. Was already hormonal anyway and just generally kind of pissy.

When S. got home and started telling me about his day, I started forgetting about the things that had me worked up earlier in the day. Until about 4:30pm.

That's when the tornado warnings came out.

But wait, you may say to me, it's only November! Surely you're exaggerating. It was just windy.

Oh no, I shall say to you, it wasn't just windy, there were fucking TORNADOES. Sure, first the NEWS FOUR DOPPLER RADAR WEATHER BRIEF ONLY ON CHANNEL FOUR TURN TO CHANNEL FOUR FOR DOPPLER RADAR was talking about nickel-sized hail and thunderstorms... but within a couple of minutes, we were cutting to Side Show Bob in the Weather Watch Storm Plane who was fucking flying around the big cloud that makes the tornadoes. We counted at least five. I think they're saying "officially" there were five touchdowns yesterday but I'm sure there were more than that, because No Camera Dave who was up the road from Side Show Bob was telling us about his own fucking tornado touchdowns even though we couldn't see them in full color on live TV.

At about 5pm after sitting lotus-style on the recliner in front of the TV staring at my first tornado warnings - in fucking November - there are almost never tornadoes in fucking November - they even call them "November Tornadoes" and it's some kind of a big strange deal that they happen because they freaking DON'T HAPPEN -- I peeked out onto the patio to see if I could see the storm moving away from us (which it was) and could seein all the apartments across the pool from me. They all had NEWS FOUR DOPPLER RADAR WEATHER BRIEF ONLY ON CHANNEL FOUR TURN TO CHANNEL FOUR FOR DOPPLER RADAR. I could have just pulled up a patio chair and watched the swirling pink and purple dots move across the OKC map through everyone else's windows, if I wanted.

Welcome to Oklahoma.

So. We were of course never in any 'real' danger from the tornadoes, as they were to the northeast of us, but having never seen anything like that for real on the TV, and having been storm-phobic and not liking the idea of a twisty dirty pointy finger coming out of the sky and zapping out my humble abode, I was glued to the boob tube.

S. knew just what to do.

As soon as it was okay to get on the road, he took me up to the BX and took me shopping. You see, I had bought a pair of jeans from Wal Mart. Yes, I buy Wal Mart Jeans. They're cheap and they fit great and they wear a long time. But I had torn a hole in one pair of my jeans when we were moving stuff, and I needed a new pair. The other day we went up to WalMart for something else so I snagged the jeans in my size that I always wear and took them home. Classic Fit. Faded Glory. Classic Fit. Did I say they were Classic Fit?

So yesterday when we were getting ready to leave I tried to pull them on and they are fucking NOT classic fit jeans, they are fucking mid-rise plumber's ass-crack jeans. Even if my ass didn't have more cushion for the pushin', I would not want to wear low-rise or mid-rise jeans. I have nothing against you if you CAN wear them. Because it's obvious from last night, I CAN wear them. I just don't think they should MAKE them in my size, and even if I thought they were cute which I don't think they are, they are uncomfortable as all hell. More power to ya if you can pull it off, but I'm more of a REGULAR JEANS girl. So. With my non-sexy-thong non-low-rise underwear sticking up out of the back of these freaking midrise "Classic Fit" Faded Glory jeans, I got very pissed off and took them off and we had to go back to Walmart. Where I complained heartily. And they gave me S.'s $12 back.

If anyone can explain to me the attraction to jeans where your asscrack intentionally sticks out and it feels like they're going to fall off when you sit down in a chair, please let me know. So, now I have to find a new brand of jeans that doesn't cost like $35 a pair.

From there we went to the BX where I bought a pair of BX-brand jeans that fit me just fine, and S. insisted he wanted me to get both a nice pair of gloves AND two nice pair of shoes. One for walking and working out in the gym ONLY, and one for everything EXCEPT walking the dog (since the dog likes to walk in the mud and my tennies are getting hammered). So, we tried on a couple of different styles of shoes, and he ended up spending a bit of money on me for two nice pair of Asics. All told I think he spent about $150 on me yesterday at the BX, then took me out to dinner so I didn't have to cook, and THEN told me that although he thinks I'm doing a great job at getting my nails done, if I'm working at home and bringing in money AND taking care of everything at home, I should feel like I can go get myself pampered for $20 every couple of weeks and let the salon lady do my nails so I don't have to worry about doing it myself. "If you're just doing it to save money, you should let yourself be pampered a little."

I have the best husband ever.

Now. That might have something to do with the fact that I've made $880 since October 27th working part time and not working every single day, but I think it more had to do with the fact that I was on the verge of tears all day, he wanted to do something nice for me, and he wanted to do something nice. For me. Nice for me. S. do nice for Rose. I like that.

And I'm grateful, don't get me wrong.

It's like Ron White says. You know Ron White, don't you? Comedian. Blue Collar Comedy Tour guy. I fuckin' love him, I have his DVD, "They Call Me Tater Salad." Love him. So anyway. It's like he says. They should just have more truth in advertising. Instead of "Diamonds -- Take Her Breath Away," they should just say "Diamonds. That'll shut her up."

In this case, instead of diamonds, it was one pair of running shoes, one pair of crosstraining shoes, one pair of blue jeans, one pair of cushy gloves, a bag of Chupa-Chups, and dinner at Applebee's.

That'll shut me up.

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:00 AM | #


Wednesday, November 10, 2004



Just so y'all don't think I'm yanking your chain, I wanted to make sure I posted a picture of the peach pie. Which is quite delicious, if I do say so myself.

And then there's this. While I was looking thru my camera for pictures of the pie, I realized that I hadn't showed you guys any pictures of S.'s birthday happenings, so I thought I'd show off my freakishly cool birthday design. Ha!

If you can believe it, the balloons are still floating here in the office. They are tied to a little teddy bear in a black sweater that says, "over the hill." Hmmmm, maybe I need a picture of that, too.

So yesterday was ANOTHER busy work day, I could hardly believe it. Between me being busy to the point of ick ugh yesterday, and S. being ick ugh to the point of goddammit fucking fuckity fuck yesterday, it was definitely an interesting day. S. has an Airman who can't manage to make it to an appointment. Any appointment. As in, real, mandatory, Air Force appointments (Tinker has an ORI this week, which is a bunch of letters crammed together which stand for "everyone's looking at us and we have to do our job perfectly.") So, he has to (gets to?) go in today and kick some Senior Airman ass. This kid knows his job, but he's pretty much a punk. Skipped over verbal counseling and Letter Of Counseling straight to Letter Of Reprimand... both from S,. and from S.'s superior officer, on the same day, as in right now. So it'll be interesting to hear how that goes.

And I have even more work today!

I know, I know, I need to get off my ass and start working more on the smelly stuff. I'm going to. I hope this weekend to make a good sized order of all the stuff I need to really move this thing forward. I would be absolutely thrilled if I could get it going by the end of this month, but I definitely want to have it done by Christmas.

So. It's raining. And I have PMS. And I want salty crunchy foods and I want chocolate and sugar and I want to go back to bed, and I can't do any of those things presently. Poor me, right?

Well, I'd better get busy working so I can be done in time to actually have some time to myself this afternoon. How are y'all doing?

Oh, and before I forget. Happy Birthday to the Marine Corps. Semper fi to all y'all, and my thoughts are with all you fine Marine wives.

Rose typed all this stuff at 6:45 AM | #


Monday, November 08, 2004



Saturday afternoon TV:

TV: Kenmore would like to introduce to you the newest appliance technology.

S.: Tell me when the movie's back on...

TV: The aych eee four teee is filled with features...

Rose: Oh. My. God. Come here.

S.: What?


TV: Kenmore's patented Catalyst cleaning action in the aych eee four tee...

S.: What? It's a washer.

Rose: Look at it. Look. H E 4 T. HE4T. He4t.

S.: Oh lord.

Rose: It's a L33t washing machine.

TV: The HE4T washer from Kenmore.

S.: You're shitting me.

Rose: It's a fucking L33T washer.

S.: They don't let us have anything good without taking it for themselves.

Rose: Shoot me.

Rose typed all this stuff at 11:02 AM | #




Wow. I wish I could tell you that there were so many otherworldly things going on that it's kept me away from blogging, but I can't. I've just been... busy! And it's a good feeling!

Work was quite busy this last week. All in all I made about $650 last week typing. Court transcripts, depositions, engineers, insurance stuff, car accidents, blah blah blah, but it kept me typing. I'll take what I can get! About the only thing I didn't like about work this last week was that a few days I worked until 4p or 5pm, and wasn't able to quite get "enough" done around the house. But it's all evening out.

If I can keep a steady amount of work flowing like that, or even not as much as that, I would imagine it'll be a darned nice part time job.

Had to go out and buy a UPS because we've had a couple of power outages here in the middle of typing. Fortunately for me, I keep my "save" set to like every two minutes, so I don't lose that much work... but it was a scare both times. That UPS is big enough to run our server, my computer and S.'s computer, in the event of a power outage, which will give us plenty of time to turn 'em off. It'll even turn mine off automatically if I don't come in within five minutes to do it. Technology. Who'da thunk it.

And, as another little gift to myself and/or a gift from S., we picked up a new Laser Printer for the office. I'm going to need it for things like invoicing, plus I'm also going to get a lot of use out of it for the incense labels and the like for Enchanted Rose.

So much spending.

On Friday, we had one of S.'s new friends over to the apartment to throw darts, drink beer, and hang out. We ended up talking and laughing, telling stories, and the boys threw darts, until about 11pm. It was a much needed social foray. I'm glad to have gotten to meet someone new, and it was nice to tell stories and laugh. Good times.

By Sunday, we went to the Commissary for groceries and S. decided he was going to make a huge pot of chili, so I didn't even have to COOK! He slaved over the hot pot all day and made some wonderful flavorful bean-y chili. We shared some with our neighbors because we ended up with too much for "just us." I also did my nails again, very girly, a kind of neutral pearly pink color. I'm getting pretty good at doing my own acrylics. I didn't have to actually MAKE any nails, just repair one, but a little at a time I'm developing mah madd skeelz.

So today, what's on the agenda? Peach pie. I am going to bake a peach pie. I don't have any work lined up yet, am waiting to see what's out there, but in the meantime I'm going to see if I can't bake a beautiful pie for S. when he comes home tonight. It's another "free day" at work today, something called "wing man day." He didn't even have to wear his BDU's to work - kind of like a Safety Day. He said, "The thing I'm looking forward to most today is 3pm when I can come home." He doesn't much like the mandatory fun.

I haven't had any random bulldog attacks, either. I know, this entry is scattered and probably not very interesting. For that I apologize. Maybe I'll have some peach pie pictures to post later. Peach pie pictures to post. Yikes, that's a mouthful.

Rose typed all this stuff at 8:39 AM | #


Thursday, November 04, 2004



Well. There were so many people blogging about their feelings re: the election yesterday that I couldn't get into Blogger. Go figure. It all worked out, it gave me more time to work.

I'm not going to get into some big thing. I'm going to say I'm disappointed. I'm going to say I'm disgusted that there was election and voter fraud (on both sides, thank you) and I'm surprised that so many folks in this country lean to the right.

I'm just hoping the folks on the right find a way to lean back towards the rest of us moderates, so we can get some good and important things done. The President said in his victory speech that he plans to earn back the trust of the half of the country who doesn't trust him. I sincerely hope that's the truth. Considering .. well .. I don't much trust him, I suppose actions are going to speak louder than words.

Meantime, I am thoroughly impressed with the voter turnout. I think that should say something to this President as well.

I sincerely believe this country has become divided by hate... we've got a lot of healing and growing to do. I think that should be the President's first priority. But I'm not the one who woke up on Wednesday to see they would be leading this fine country for the next four years.

And that's all I'm going to say, about that.

Fall has blown in here like a lion. But of course then in a day or two it's going to be more like a lamb, again. I'll get used to it. I will. I promise.

And I already have some idiot neighbors.

The pet restriction here at our apartments is 25 pounds. Our dog weighed that before we got here, but a couple weeks of laying around on the couch and being spoiled to fucking death helped him gain a few pounds. Worried about fitting into the pet restriction, we put him on a diet and made sure he went out walking or running more often and for longer each day. You know, unless it's raining, at which time he decides we're fucking loonies for trying to take him down the stairs into the falling sky water, and just cries and stares at us as if to say, "I'll hold my pee until my head a splode."

So anyway. Ahem. Across the complex from us, a couple just moved in. When we were out together walking the dog the other night, one night last week, suddenly flying out her apartment door and down the breezeway at us, comes a 40 pound bulldog.

I am not kidding. This fucking bulldog has a basketball head. Now, I have nothing against bulldogs, but when you're surrounded by chihuahuas and cockapoos and the biggest damned dog you've seen is a Springer Spaniel, a 40 pound bulldog snorting and drooling and RUNNING TOWARDS YOUR DOG (no leash) isn't very fun.

So this dog comes up on our dog and S. tries to get between them, but the dog wiggles his way in and plants his basketball head directly on my dog's cock. Then, as if it couldn't get worse, some little shih-tzu comes flying out of the apartment to find its big boffo friend, and starts growling and barking at us.

Then the owner came out.

"Gosh," she said, "They really like your dog!" Meantime, my dog's hair is starting to stand up on the back of his neck because there's a goddamn basketball headed bulldog snorting his cock, and the shih-tzu is being an annoying yippy little prick, and the owner isn't doing anything about her dogs. We stared at her, wordless, for long enough that she finally came over and pulled on the bulldog's collar and we were able to start walking away (if we tried to move with the bulldog there, he just walked along with us, lifting up my dog's ass end with his drooling basketball).

We politely said goodnight and went on our way, figuring that would be a one-time-only thing since they weren't out peeing, they were just getting out (looked like owner was on her way to the trash.)

Wrong. Again.

Since that time, we've found 40-pound-bulldog-shit in the wet grass no farther than 10 feet from the fucking free, supplied-by-the-apartments poop bag station which is about 25 feet outside those folks' front door... we've found shih-tzu poop in the common areas RIGHT outside their door... and TWO MORE TIMES their fucking dogs -- both of them -- have come running up to me and the dog as we're out for our morning walk, basketball-head-cocksucking-sniff-and-snort and all. I've pointed out twice that my dog is on a leash (hello, leash law and common fucking courtesy) but they seem to think it's okay just to open their door, throw on a jacket, and step outside onto the sidewalk in their stocking feet while they let their dogs roam around near the door and crap.

That would be fine if: (1) they were picking up the shit mountains. (2) They had any fucking control over their dogs (calling them doesn't work when there's a basketball under my dog's ass-end). (3) Their dogs weren't aggressive. (4) Their dogs weren't territorial. (5) We didn't have a leash law. (6) The leash law wasn't clearly delineated in the pet policy. (7) Their dog wasn't fucking almost twice the mandated weight in the pet policy. (8) They wouldn't be fucking lazy asses and stand outside their door while their basketball head dog wants to make shit mountains ten feet from the poop station, that we walk near because IT'S A FUCKING POOP STATION.

So, I had to be a bitchy neighbor and call the office. I just said they weren't putting their dogs on a leash and that three times they've run up on my dog, can't you encourage them to control their dog... oh and by the way they aren't picking up their dog's poop, either. So, they're supposed to get a polite letter reminding them of the leash law (hello, Bueller) and the fact that there's a poop station RIGHT outside their door, and they need to use it.

Ugh. Stupid people piss me off.

So I've been absolutely SWAMPED with work. Thank you to everyone who was keeping me and us in their thoughts. Now. Could you talk to the Universe and see if we can work it so I only work until around 2pm each day? I have laundry to do!!!

Rose typed all this stuff at 6:41 AM | #


Tuesday, November 02, 2004



Morning, all!

I've been so busy with work, I can't see straight. I've worked every day for a week. A LOT of work, too! I'm real sorry I haven't been more posty here, but I'm just trying to get myself on a decent work schedule and still be able to take care of everything around here.

Our Handfatsting anniversay was wonderful! We also had a great Halloween/Samhain. Oddly enough, thanks to the Bible Belt, we had NO trick or treaters. None. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Zip. None. None on Saturday, none on Sunday. Which means I have a bag of Tootsie Rolls in the kitchen and it makes me glad I'm not a tootsie roll eater.

We had a traditional "mute supper" or "dumb supper," although we ended up talking a little bit half way through. I made a modified version of Shepherd's Pie, because it's fairly traditional and definitely harvesty. I also made two pumpkin pies that we were quick to dig into after dinner (there's still one and a half pies, sigh).

So as soon as the rush hour traffic dies down a little, I'm going to drive up the street and cast my vote. I will also be glued to the television tonight, although I'm unsure as to whether or not we're even going to get any realistic projections.

If you haven't already voted early, go out and vote! I'll write more later!

Thank you all for the kind and wonderful Anniversary wishes. It was so great to hop back on and read more.

Now, I'm off to work And work and work and work... w00t!

Rose typed all this stuff at 6:11 AM | #


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

I play Everquest II!
Thornwyn Tamarisk
Iksar Necromancer, Kithicor

We're trying for a baby!

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