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

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

Friday, April 29, 2005

DITCH THE HYPHEN

I cried myself to sleep last night.

Now, don't get me wrong. If you are a friend of mine who has been chatting with me lately and reassuring me that things are going fine and that I'm a good person and that the things I'm feeling, while normal, are not beneficial to me and I should focus on loving myself and appreciating the blessings the world is providing to me, I have taken our chats to heart and I totally agree with you.

But I still cried myself to sleep.

Alcoholics have a way of fucking with our lives, and my life was completely full of alcoholic asshattery yesterday.

First of all, I've been amazingly busy this week. Like, super busy. So I haven't had a whole lot of time to do anything for myself. I haven't been to the gym, nothing like that. I've barely even taken time out of my days for cooking-therapy and made meals for my family that didn't consist of sandwiches, tuna casserole, or leftover sandwiches or tuna casserole.

But I digress.

When I get that busy it's hard for me to "decompress" and release the stress that builds up inside of me. And yesterday it came to another, albeit minor, head.

My sister emailed me telling me she had finally written the "final email" to our dad, telling him how she felt about everything that's been going on. And while I'm all for her doing that if it's what is going to help HER feel better, it's not something that's been on my agenda to do. But I encouraged her and told her that if it was going to help her, I was all behind it and shit, and she should do what she feels like she has to do.

She phoned me to tell me the email bounced because his email box was full.

Now, if you consider that our dad was supposed to return to Anchorage earlier this week and that he emails every day like a good technologically deficient dad on his WebTV every single day, the fact that his box was full would either mean that (a) he just had a change of plans and decided to stay in Vegas for a while longer with Young Chippie or (b) he did go back to Anchorage and something happened, and he wasn't checking his email. (b) could be a significantly more sinister choice.

So what did she want to do? Find him.

I explained that it didn't rightly matter whether he was checking his email or not, and that the only way we would be sure we "found him" and that he was "okay" is if we phoned him. So what did she want to do? Phone everybody else and see if someone had seen him.

See, this is the fucking insanity that this kind of alcoholism in the family breeds into children. My sister wasn't born this crazy. And the overwhelming majority of the time, she is probably like, 95% sane. I mean, she's a great mom and a smart lady. But bring my dad into it and she's suddenly just... not.

So we called him.

Of course he had to start in by saying that he had "meant to call" us and that he was just frustrated that he and my sister had a fight the last time they spoke (about Young Chippie) and how he was just "getting past that" but had been too busy to give us a call. Then somehow the conversation moved off of that, to real estate, because my dad is wrapping up his business in Alaska and wants to try to do some busines somewhere warmer. Phoenix, perhaps, or Vegas.

So we started talking about the rising costs of real estate in Phoenix, and I made a comment that started a whole different angle of the conversation. I said, "If S. and I got Base Of Preference, I don't even know if we'd be able to afford to live in Phoenix without having to live on the base. The cost of real estate there and cost of living there is getting so high, I'd have to go back to work and get a regular job again just to make ends meet, most likely." Well, my dad went through the roof. You see, if we moved to Phoenix and had to buy a $300,000 house and couldn't, then it would just be because I don't do enough.

So that's when he told me that since I am "not working" that I "need to" go to school and become something like a loan officer so I can work in the real estate industry, make six figures, and then we could afford any house we wanted. Uh, excuse me? I don't work? When you were looking for something for your Trophy Girl to be able to "work at from home" you were all praising my shit for being industrious and an entrepeneur and how great it was that I was making as much money as I do. But now I'm worthless because I can't afford to live somewhere that the real estate prices are artificially driven up? Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure we could probably afford to live in Phoenix. I just don't think we could afford to buy a home at the rate the real estate is selling there. I know people who bought their houses for $180,000 a few years ago and they are appraising for close to $400,000.00. If you're not IN the market there right now and able to turn your own house around and re-invest, you'd better have $100,000.00 for a downpayment. Which we don't have. Anyway, I was just trying to make a point and it turns out I'm lazy and unambitious, and that's why I couldn't live in Phoenix. I love it when I find shit out like that about myself.

The conversation went from there to how he's trying to get a bunch of different business ventures started in Las Vegas, which is when my sister (who had us conferenced on three-way) wanted to end the call. She has made a decision, and I support her in it, that she's not going to sit on the phone and be on the receiving end of bragadoccio sessions about how fabbo my dad's life is and how much money he can make or spend in a given week. So when he was telling her all about this stuff (side story: for years, my sister told her she and her husband would love to get involved with my dad in some kind of business proposition... but he always tells them no, and then complains that his kids aren't involved with his business) she said, "Yeah hey, I think I'm going to get off the phone now."

I was proud of her. She didn't say "My kids are screaming" or "it's late here" or make any excuses. Just said she was going to get off the phone.

And that's when my dad decided to say that he felt bad that they had a fight... but.

Yeah, here comes the but.

"Things are going really well for us here. And these things are all my business which is something I'm having to realize, and make everyone else realize. I am very happy and that's what matters to me, it's important. I am very happy here."

Okay, dad, well, talk to you later.

And I don't anticipate I'll be talking to him very much any more. If I had any hope for things being different, they were shattered in the last ten minutes of that conversation.

Telling me I'm worthless again just because it suited his argument at the time, and basically telling me not to worry about him because he's doing just fine... well, that's cool and everything. You know he's still never said anything to me about my husband's deployment? And he still doesn't call unless he wants something.

He can live his life all he wants, he's making the choices. But I finally got angry enough yesterday, and hurt enough yesterday, that I'm just over it. If he's so happy then he better not come running to me any more when he's not happy. And if he is bending over backwards to do all these things in his life and is deliberately excluding his kids from them, well, I'm not going to be there to pick up the pieces of his mess. He's so happy. Then he can do whatever he wants. I'm pretty much done.

I've been living a hyphenated life since I got married. I've held on to my dad's name. I don't know why. I tell myself it's because it's easier. Easier than going and getting everything all changed over. But maybe this is my impetus to get rid of the hyphen, go to Social Security and get it fixed-up, and just become my own person (or my husband's wife) and completely leave that last shred of my dad behind. I think that is probably what I'm going to do. Ditch the hyphen.

Rose typed all this stuff at 6:09 AM | #

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Thursday, April 28, 2005

SMELLS LIKE BURNING

Yesterday, for Admin Professionals Day, because I am the only Admin Professional in this house even if I work for myself goddammit, my Bestest Husband In The World Evar brought me home a gift.

He picked me up a candle. Which is no small feat.

I have what's been deemed a chronic environmental sensitivity. That means lots of different chemicals and artificial fragrances and things, set off my body into a coughing, wheezing, rashing, itching mess of unfathomable proportions. As a result we have to be careful what kind of cleaning products we have in the house, I can't be around paint, caulk, or anything like that while it's giving off noxious fumes, and the sweetest-smelling cheapie fragranced candle can turn my world upside-down. That's why there are certain high-end brands of candles that I can be around while they're burning, and others have a tendency to make me sniffle.

Like for example: I can melt Yankee Candle tarts in my tart-melter, but I can't be around a Yankee Candle burning. Something about the way the fragrance(s) vaporize in the flame makes me break out and wheeze. Target? Wal-Mart? Forget about it. I can't use any of their 'scented candles,' although I can burn the unscented ones just fine.

Years ago I fell in love with Partylite because I could burn the candles and they smelled good. The candles for Partylite are made by Colonial Candle of Cape Cod, who now sells their stuff in higher-end stores and - interestingly - in our BX.

They have a line called, "Colonial At Home" and one family in particular of smells that I enjoy. They are called the Simple Essence Collection and it's all herby, flowery, earthy, real-smelling smells.

Hubby picked me up a jar candle yesterday called "Sun-Drenched Herbs," which has rosemary, basil and sage in it. And I love it. I've got it lit right now here at my desk as I'm getting ready to settle into work, and it's filling my office with the summery smell of my own herb garden. I got a present! w00t, y'all!

Rose typed all this stuff at 6:44 AM | #

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Wednesday, April 27, 2005

THINGS I LEARNED TODAY
(American Idol Spoiler)

Apparently, having a trach scar gets you enough of a sympathy vote to keep you in the top 5.

Apparently, Lenny Kravitz' glasses didn't do too bad.

Apparently, country music is still alive.

Apparently, chubby white boys who sing CAN find a place in America's heart.

And apparently... screaming chicks would rather vote for you when you resemble a pop star than when you make an attempt at being Grunge Guy.

Sorry to see you go, Constantine. You sucked last night, but I never expected that.

Anthony and his Marc-Anthony-Mimic-Voice need to be on the next plane home, and if voters don't get their shit together I don't know what the hell else to say.

I will say this, though. Now that one of the longhairs is gone, the other one is going to be a force to be reckoned with. The entire rocker/indie vote is now going to be combined behind Bo. The girls better bring it, cuz Anthony and poor Scotty the Body don't have a chance against the juggernaut that will be Bo Bice.

I'm still just freaking amazed.

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

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I'VE GOT A MUSTANG, IT'LL DO 80

First of all, I want to say HAPPY ADMINISTRATIVE PROFESSIONALS DAY. If you qualify, you know you qualify, and you should accept all the kudos that come your way today. Thanks for making the world turn, folks. Everything would grind to a halt without you. Us. You.

Second of all, thank you to my husband who made it "Rose's Day" yesterday by ordering Chinese food (yeah, spent more money) and keeping my wine glass full and watching American Idol **AND** House, M.D. with me, as they are my two favoritest shows evar on the television, at least this week.

Now. About American Idol. What the hell were they all on last night? I didn't think anyone did that great. Urgh.

Scotty the Body, as much as I lurves me some chubby white boy, you're going to be going home I think. I voted for you, I promise I did, but I don't know if it's going to be enough.

Carrie, I dig you but you need to stop trying to scream-sing, and just sing. You do so much better that way.

Constantine, you sucked donkey balls last night. You sounded like Vibrato Boy trying to sound like Grunge Guy. It wasn't working for me. And c'mon... wrist straps?

Anthony, you sound more and more like a strange combination of Marc Anthony, some girl with a thick singing accident, and Clay Aiken every week. I don't know why we keep you around. I think it's the trach scar.

*burp*

AND... hubby was kind enough to phone me this morning to tell me to hurry up and turn on VH1 so I could see the formerly drool-worthy, hot-and-sexy, Matchbox Twenty front man Rob Thomas doing a feeble Justin Timberlake/Ricky Martin impression in the video for his new single. Gah. I am... MY EYES! MY EYES! I can't get over it. Not only does he not wear the whole "pop star shaved head white boy" head very well, his song was trite, he doesn't know how to dance (and was doing a little bit too much hip shaking for me) and the song was just... bad.

Urgh. Now I have to go have some coffee so I can get this bad taste out of my mouth.

Have you been to see Daryl yet?

Rose typed all this stuff at 6:54 AM | #

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Tuesday, April 26, 2005

I'M THE TAX MAN, AND YOU'RE WORKING FOR NO ONE BUT ME

Urgh.

Gotta send off my check for estimated taxes.

Urgh.

Ouch, and urgh.

On a lighter note, we got a new toy today. Well, it's not a toy, it's going to be used for work for me plus so hubby has a 'puter to take with him when he hits the road in June to wherever-the-hell. At least that way if they have internet access (which I know they've said they won't, but a girl can dream) he can chat with me or email me from time to time.

We got a screaming deal on the laptop at the BX here at the base; such a good deal that we couldn't pass it up. $889 plus no tax. The next best comparable machine that we could have found online, et. al., was $950 shipped and it had a 12" screen and wasn't nearly as slick.

So. Hubby can take it with him on his TDY and I can eventually use it to work on the patio (I almost typed "on the veranda" as if it's a veranda, but it sounds so much cooler) and once we get our wireless network set up, we'll be able to be TOTAL geek-ass nerds and surf or blog or e-mail from the pool.

Not in the pool. Just near the pool.

You know what I mean.

Okay. So NOW can I PLEASE STOP FUCKING SPENDING MONEY?!!?

Rose typed all this stuff at 4:53 PM | #

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Monday, April 25, 2005

HE AIN'T HEAVY, HE'S MY BROTHER

It's amazing what a little pampering will do to a person's outlook.

Friday night I worked until S. came home from work with his back basically completely clicked out of place. Sigh. So while he laid on the floor trying to find a comfortable spot, I tried to make him more comfortable and take care of him. Then, he fell asleep so I finished up my crampy yucky Friday eating whipped cream cheese on table water crackers for dinner, and eventually got S. put to bed properly and I followed him.

Saturday morning, since we'd gone to bed at 8pm on Friday (gah), we got up fairly bright and early. We had mint mochas with the mint out of our garden, and decided to get out and "do something." We found the Oklahoma City Public Market/Farmer's Market and went and hung out down there for a while. We spent some time browsing through the antiques dealers looking for a large glass jug big enough to rack some mead in (S.'s mead is ready for another racking, and boy does it smell good) and then we visited the farmer's market. That was a joy and a half right there, even though it was relatively small. One of the vendors had lots of Mexican ingredients, so I got some beautiful BEAUTIFUl fruity dried chiles and some awesome smoked, dried chipotles (without being canned in adobo) so I am already trying to figure out how I'm going to use them! We also came home with a couple of pounds of some BEAUTIFUL yellow squash that went great with dinner on Saturday night.

Sunday, was Commissary day, and after getting that pain-in-the-tuckus all finished up, I decided it was time to treat myself. So I went up the street to see my little nail lady (you know, her name is Rose, I shit you not) and get a little manicure. I was long, LONG overdue and definitely needed it.

While I was there, I also had my eyebrows waxed, my upper lip waxed, et. al. So I came home with a new, pretty face, and gorgeous nails - I found a bottle of "Very Merry Cherry" OPI nailcolor at the salon (which is unheard of, and is a very rare color) so I jumped on it. It's kind of like I'm Not Really A Waitress, which is another one of my favorites, but it's a little bit lighter (think holiday red) and it's also got a beautiful frost in it. IMRAW is more of a deep red bordering on wine color, with the frost.

When I got home I went to work making dinner, which ended up to be spaghetti and deeeeeeelicious fruit salad and more lovely yellow squash out of the steamer. We ate two pounds of yellow squash in two days between the two of us. I'm definitely going to be regular this week.

So I have gorgeous new nails, I have beautiful lack-of-facial-fuzz, I've lost a couple of pounds, and I'm ready to tackle this week head-on even though I'm going to have fucking assloads of work.

Not to mention we're trying to start to prepare for S.'s TDY and that means various forms of shopping. Expensive shopping. Urgh. Urgh, I tell you, urgh.

Oh... a side note... I had a funky dream last night, I was on American Idol. I wasn't singing on American Idol because I'm past the age limit by ~~a year or two~~a fucking eternity, but I was there nonetheless. Bo Bice asked me about the earring I wear in my left ear. Carrie kept patting me on the back and telling me what a great friend I was. I picked out an outfit of clothing for Anthony (apparently I'm a stylist?) and he loved it. And one of the men, I won't say who here, proclaimed his hot gay love for another one of the men, and everyone applauded.

I repeat. This was only my dream. Everyone was clapping when the alarm went off this morning. Apparently, I need to eat more spicy food before I go to bed so I can have more dreams like that.

Okay well, I suppose I should go make myself another lovely mint mocha, open the shades, look out at the rainy day, and get my ass to work.

Happy Monday, y'all.

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:45 AM | #

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Saturday, April 23, 2005

APPARENTLY, I KNOW MY SHIT

Shamelessly and lovingly whored from Serene-Dharma, a fabulous Pagan military wife.

I had to take the graphics out, because it was fucking up my shit as it was all designed in tables, and that's how this old blogspot template is also done apparently:

Pagan Extraordinaire
You are 83% Paganism Expert!
You know Paganism like the back of your hand! Maybe you even attended a
few rituals, or organized some of your own. You understand how special
this religion is, and keep it close to your heart. You know that it's
the most ancient religion in the world, and you want to get back to
your roots. Merry meet again!

My test tracked 1 variable: How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 99% on Pagan Expert

Link: The Paganism Test

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

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Friday, April 22, 2005

PERV

One good thing about having my office face out over the swimming pool, is I get a great view of the hunky young Airmen who swim and tan. Like the three who are out there right now.

Hey. Don't judge me. I like military men so much I married one.

Rose typed all this stuff at 1:41 PM | #

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EARTH DAY 2005

It is also Earth Day today. I am a lazy ass so I am going to direct you to my girl Shanna who has taken a lot of time to put together a comprehensive list of things we can do today to help nurture this big blue marble we live on.

Do what you can, ok? And go see Shanna's insightful post. Thanky.

Rose typed all this stuff at 9:14 AM | #

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REDUX

In case I had any doubt that I wasn't pregnant, I now feel like I got punched in the stomach with something hard, lots and lots of times. I love being a girl.

Last night, as a side dish, I made pomegranite-honey-mustard glazed baby carrots. They were amazing.

The Apprentice was okay, I guess.

I had a long conversation with a friend of mine from Phoenix, and it made me miss Phoenix.

I got a little tipsy on two glasses of wine, since I haven't been drinking much.

I am looking out the window of my office to see my windchimes shooting out horizontally off the balcony, because the wind is so strong.

I had aphids on my cilantro. I sprayed them with dish soap and water. I hope the aphids die.

Yesterday, I caught a HUGE black and white hairy jumping spider crawling across my living room floor. I took him outside and dropped him off the balcony, and he lowered himself on a web down to the ground. I'm proud I didn't freak out.

S. put the new wheels and tires on his car and he's very proud. And I am the best wife ever.

Not that I am a better wife than any of my wonderful wifey bloggy friends who are reading this, so don't think I'm getting all superior on your asses. I'm just reveling in the moment.

And now that I have puked up a limited quantity of information, I must put myself back to work.

As you were.

Rose typed all this stuff at 8:41 AM | #

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Thursday, April 21, 2005

I'VE GOT A POCKET FULL OF KRYPTONITE

I'm still not quite ready to blog about the thing with my dad yet, basically because I'm doing a remarkably good job of not letting it get to me. But I'll try to summarize it here. update: apparently I WAS ready to blog about it, and the update was more of a complete guts-spilling, so read to your hearts content.

Basically, a year ago my dad went into the hospital with DT's (well, he went IN the hospital for something else, and they KEPT him there for DT's) and ended up in a semi-conscious state where he babbled on and was pretty much insane from alcohol-induced dementia (or the dementia that comes when you cut an alcoholic off from his booze). Before he had gone into the hospital, there was a lot of drama because my dad has both (a) the hots for and (b) a soft spot in his heart for... a girl 11 years my junior, which makes her like 42 years his junior, with three kids, who as best as we can tell just isn't a very good seed anyway. It's obvious to everyone except my dad that this girl is interested in my dad from the financial security aspect and not much else. Well, since getting out of the hospital with a rather miraculous recovery (which this girl, the Young Chippie, was no part of as she did not come to the hospital to see him one time let alone when my sister and I flew up on a moment's notice to try to arrange care for my dad) he looked like things were getting off on a good foot, until he started talking about the girl again. Turns out she had moved to Las Vegas, so now my dad has also moved to Las Vegas, bought a house, and she's living with him (her and her three children, the oldest is eight years old). So. Ahem.

So for the last couple of months we've heard about how it's on-again off-again, and how she can't take the pressure of the May-December romance, and how her kids aren't adjusting, and all these gazillion reasons why it's jut not working out. So my sister and I have been as supportive as we could, all the while knowing that she wants nothing to do with "being a part of our family" as much as she wants to remove Dad from this family... mainly because every time he comes up with some reason for us to talk to her or her to talk to us, it never happens despite our best efforts. Most recently, he asked me if I would talk to her about transcription as a home-based business (because "she wants to feel independent, but I told her she doesn't have to work, so we're trying to find something she can do at home") (bullshit) (don't get me wrong, she might be telling him that, but it's a lie)... so anyways, she never gets in touch with us, we can't ever seem to reach her, blah blah blah.

So my dad bought her a ring, and they're talking about getting married. Even though like three weeks ago, it was "off again." Now, dad says they aren't going to get married right away (even though they fucking live in LAS VEGAS, HELLO) and that he wants to see if the ring changes things around a little bit. It's sad, actually, that my dad keeps sweetening the deal for her. The funny thing is, we all know that she knows it, and that she's stringing my dad along, but nothing any of us say makes any kind of a difference. So I'm just not having anything to do with it any more and my dad can do what he wants.

Now. I know from the sound of this it must sound like I was "born with a silver spoon in my mouth" or something. Because my dad, he's got money, enough money to make it a worthwhile investment of this young girl's time to hang out with my dad. But that's not the case. My parents were basically separated by the time I was 8yo and divorced by the time I was 12yo, and although I had everything I ever needed growing up, I did not have everything I ever wanted nor did I live any kind of an extravagant life. For God's/Goddess' sake, I went to a local college in Arizona half on scholarship and basically half paying my own way, because my mom would help me out with some expenses but I still lived on my own, worked part time or full time depending on the semester... my parents don't subsidize my living (or OUR living) in any way, and they never have with the exception of the first semester I lived on my own (read: with roommates in a shithole apartment) and my mom would occasionally slip me $100 so I could eat something besides Top Ramen and Diet Pepsi.

So, I'm no spoiled rich kid. As a result, it's very easy for me to look at this situation and say that if this girl ends up with my dad's money when he dies (or BEFORE he dies, at this rate) it's not like I'm out anything, because I have never counted on my dad giving me anything. My dad is an odd duck.

My dad will say something like, "Yeah, I've been looking at these new Harleys that they build just for girls, they're smaller, and they sit different, I'm thinking of getting Young Chippie one of them." Or, "We're shopping for a lot to build a custom house on." Or, "You guys should see my new Dodge Magnum. It's tricked out." Or, "Yeah, I just custom-ordered a ring for Young Chippie, it'll be made in a couple of weeks." Or, "I just had custom-made roof tiles in the color I wanted for the [oceanfront] house in Mexico, they're cutting and firing them and I should have them next month."

But then he will say, "A thousand bucks for an airline ticket to come visit you guys, that's expensive. I can't afford that."

Sis and I are both pretty much done being on the receiving end of the occasional phone call telling us how great his life is and all the wonderful things he's doing for him and/or for her, without actually feeling like an [emotional] part of his life... so while I'm doing a better job of shrugging it off than she is (she's one of those who has to get mad to 'break up' with someone, instead of just having no more hope) we're both in a position where, we need to let him go do what he's going to do.

He's also drinking again. I'm sure he's drinking more than he lets on, but any one sip of a drink is enough to turn him into a pickle forever. So I am also making arrangements in my own head to be strong when they tell me he's in the hospital again and no one is there for him, that I am not going to go rushing off to his bedside. I have enough going on in my own life; and I have tried like crazy for the last nine months to have some kind of a real relationship with my dad for the first time ever, and I'm just not going to get sucked into it again. If he marries Young Chippie, then it'll be her job to take care of him. But I'm not going to put my entire life on hold again just so I can clean up his messes that he should be perfectly capable of cleaning up himself. I pray every day that he's not out getting drunk, but I also believe somewhere in my heart that Young Chippie (who has been known to make and serve him A COCKTAIL since him getting out of the hospital (a month and a half stay) with the DT's with instructions to NEVER DRINK AGAIN) would probably rather have him drunk because he's easier to manage then.

I'm rambling. See, I never should have started this entry, because now I have to just lay it all out there.

So anyway - to my dear blog friend (who is dearer to me than she may realize because we have more shit in common than either one of us knew when we started reading each other, who I know reads here a lot and whom I read every single day, even though we don't email or IM or anything... yet...) who is going through a similar thing in her life (I'd link you, girly, here, but I don't know if it's right to air your dirty laundry if you aren't asking for it)... anyways, YOU, the one who sees yourself in this entry, you know who you are, I want you to IM me any time you want to talk about this. Okay?

Alcoholism. I've seen a lot about it on different forums and bouncing around the internet recently. It's a disease. As much as I don't like to agree with that statement, it definitely is. My dad has suffered brain atrophy and lots of other physical complications like neuropathy as a result of his drinking. He's permanently brain-damaged, although he's still amazingly highly functioning (I think deep down my dad is a brilliant guy... but slowly, he's turned himself into a pickle, which makes him act the way he does now)... anyway, alcohol is killing my dad, and it's killing his brain, and it killed my relationship with him at a very young age. It makes me feel bad. I wish I could be closer to him in his final years, but I don't think it's going to happen. We were just talking about this last night... if we had a baby, who would come? My mom would fly here, no question. And hubby's family would all come up from Texas to see us and the baby. But my dad? Nope, he wouldn't come. He'd probably ask me what I wanted for the baby and send us some kind of present. My niece was alive for nearly a year before he ever "met" her. He's seen her once.

Oh well. Wow, this turned into quite a ramble. Summary: My dad's making plans to share his life with this young girl and her 3 kids, at the expense of his relationship with his family, many friends, and specifically his children, and his children are accepting it in a way we never thought we could. So that's been an underlying stress for me for the last oh, month or so. I just hope my sister and my mom can stop calling me to talk about it some time soon so I can actually put it behind me.

What else? Let's see.

I think I finally have this stomach flu thing completely on the run. I worked my ass off yesterday and will be working my ass off today trying to get caught up with my clients. *sigh* It seems like right when I get sick, that's when lots of people want stuff from me. Serves me right; before I got sick when things slowed down a little bit I started emailing people asking them if they had any work I could help with. I got bombarded, then I got sick, now I still have my deadlines and have to get it all done. I need an extra pair of hands. All the more reason for me to hurry up and start my typing business for REAL in the form of its own website and everything, so I can hurry up and either add a contractor on with me to take some of this work, or get some clients that aren't 'wholesale' clients.

AND. What else.

It appears I am officially not pregnant which as much as I hate to say it, is a good thing. As goddamn much as I want to be pregnant, I just can't imagine going through even part of a pregnancy with S. gone on TDY/deployment if I don't have to. That's the key words there: if I don't have to. So I think I'm going to stay off the pill but we are going to "be careful," and then plan to shoot for a baby (ha, shoot, I said shoot, gonna shoot that wad for a baby) after he returns hopefully in September or October.

AND. What else.

S. has repeatedly had to tell me I am the best. wife. evar. Because he came upon some parts for his car that he really wanted (specifically: wheels and tires) that we got an amazing deal on (1/3 what he'd have paid for them new) and so I let him dig deep into the savings account and take out some money to get them. I say that I "let him," but that's not really the case. He discussed it with me like a rational human being, and proposed how he would pay back the savings by saving even more somewhere else, and I agreed that we could live without that $500 as long as his plan came to fruition and the coffers were refilled over the next couple of months, so he's now got new wheels and tires for the car. I swear, that car has had more stuff done to it in the last eight months than I could possibly comprehend; I pointed out that since his wife never asks for anything, perhaps the next time he wants to do something for the car, he should think about the "other woman" (read: me) and bring me home a trinket. hehehehe. Oh well, at least I get to enjoy the car also when we're out cruising around in it. And damn, it's going to look fucking sweet with the new wheels and tires.

Hm. What else.

The garden. Yes. The sage is growing like crazy. I already have more Chocolate Mint than I know what to do with, which makes me want a chocolate mint mocha right about now. I actually have chile pepper plants growing on BOTH ends of the windowbox, which means I will hopefully end up with both Anaheims and Jalapenos this summer. The chives taste like chives. The cilantro tastes like cilantro. I can't pick the oregano yet because it's not 6 inches tall. But the baby sages are all with their "real leaves" and as the sun hits them in the afternoon they reach for the sky! Varmints! And I wish my lavender plant would fucking grow some flowers already, since the leaves smell so good and I don't want to pick the leaves. I want to make tea and baths out of the flowers. Sprout, damn you!

Oh my god, I think that might actually be it for now. I may have typed myself dry. Which is good, because my mind won't be racing and I can focus on other stuff. I've only been working on this entry now for like, half an hour or some crazy shit.

Okay. So y'all have a fantabulous day, all right? How are you all doing? How's your day? What's your weather like there? Done anything springy? SPILL IT.

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:44 AM | #

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Wednesday, April 20, 2005

BEEN A WHOLE LOT EASIER SINCE THE BITCH IS GONE

Much Gatorade, broth and crackers later, plus hours and hours of sleep, and I am back among the land of the living. Urgh. Don't ever catch that crap, it sucks ass.

Monday I was on and off with a fever, and had *cough* various symptoms of stomach flu that are too gross to go into here *cough* and just slept the day away when I wasn't being forced to do right by myself by the husband.

I, by the way, have the best husband ever, because he totally babysat me for going on two full days and just made sure I did everything I needed to do to get well.

He was very kind. Thank you honey.

Yesterday I was at about 1/2 power. We had an appointment with the financial advisor to talk about better ways to save and/or invest our house money, plus I had to roll over a 401(k) from my old job. So that's all taken care of now. The man was quite impressed with us, and kept talking about how lucky we are that we are saving some money and stuff "at our age." Made me feel like some kind of young whippersnapper at 35 years old, I tell you what. But overall it was a very good experience.

S. even got me out of the house yesterday evening to go meet some of the car club folks for a bite to eat, since I wasn't up for cooking quite yet. Their reaction upon seeing the almost-not-sick-anymore me? "You look so tired, are you okay?"

That happens when your bowels outweigh your sleep schedule on the list of priorities.

But last night I made it all the way through the night without getting up, got some much needed sleep, and am now transcribing an interview with a hippie artist from the 60s. Heh. Nothing wakes you up like a little surrealism and antiestablishmentism first thing in the morning. And it's Wednesday already today, cheeseandrice.

Wednesday. I can't believe it.

So, I did some blog surfing last night and found a few new Military Wives and added them to my blogroll. Please do stop by and see the milwives; they're all good reads, and whether their husbands are currently "out of town" or not, they could all use your support.

I can't believe it's Wednesday.

So I haven't blogged about my situation with my dad for a while now, but I think I might have a post brewing inside of me about it. I don't have the energy to go into it right now, but I'll just say that Young Chippie is still in the picture, he bought a ring, I'm shutting down, and if you don't know what I'm talking about you can find some of it in the archives from March through July of last year.

Okay then. Time to go get some more liquids in me, walk the dog, and get back to surreal hippie artists. Bleargh.

Thanks for all the wellwishes, you guys. It warmed the cockles of my heart.

I said cock. les. cockles.

Rose typed all this stuff at 8:10 AM | #

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Monday, April 18, 2005

BIOHAZARD

I'm sick.

Stomach virus or food poisoning.

Hopefully see you all tomorrow.

Rose typed all this stuff at 10:50 AM | #

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Friday, April 15, 2005

FAN MAIL

Okay. I lurves me my readers. I truly do. But will the people who keep repeatedly, and by that I mean like five times a day, coming to my blog by going to the very odd address: http://fucking.meett.biz/... and by looking for "WIFE FUCKING"... because for some ungodly reason my blog is the #1 choice on said page for said phrase (numbered #106, but at the top of... page one? ... please just BOOKMARK ME or something?

I mean, I'm a wife. And I'm all about the fucking. With my husband. But it just makes me kind of dirty to see the referral in my stats. Funny thing is, I wasn't even talking about ME doing any fucking, I was calling my husband's ex-wife a "fucking cuntrag" or something like that. But you know, they'll take the words in any order they can get them. Heh.

Seriously, dude. I'm getting creeped out. **shivers**

Rose typed all this stuff at 9:16 AM | #

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WHEN A GIRL WALKS IN
WITH AN ITTY-BITTY WAIST
AND A ROUND THING IN YOUR FACE
YOU GET SPRUNG

It's Friday, thank God/dess, it's Friday. Can I get a Hell Yeah?

Yesterday was... an interesting... day... to say the least. Not to say that I don't HAVE a lot of those, but I definitely caught the Spring Cleaning bug for some reason. My clients have slowed down a little this week and I haven't been overflowing with work like normal, so I'm starting to adjust a kind-of-regular schedule. S. is happy about that because now that he's back on days (YAY!) we get to have dinner together and stuff, so I've actually been cooking again. It does remarkable things for my sanity.

So yesterday? I worked for a while, and then 'the work ran out.' So I wandered into the kitchen and started cleaning up... and ended up taking the stove apart and cleaning all the burner rings with oven cleaner. Yes, I know. I am insane. Then I wiped and washed everything down and super-cleansed EVERYTHING. And did two loads of laundry.

When S. let me know he was coming home for lunch I started to make him a sandwich (I have discovered the use of a George Foreman Grill as a panini press, and I am in heaven) when I decided to take a little detour and burn the crap Shit Holy Fuck! out of my index finger on my left hand. I now have a blister that is conveniently located right along the end of the tip of my finger, UNDER my fingernail in parts of it. Needless to say, that made TYPING a little bit NOT FUN yesterday!

S. chowed down and so did I, and then I cleaned the master bathroom, took a long, hot bath, and miraculously work started showing up again. Which is just how it works; I get myself all squeaky clean and relaxed and stuff, and then I have to work! Asshats!

I worked for about another hour or so, and then called it a night. Watched The Apprentice and saw The Donald actually act kind of human. Wondered why Marketing Phenom Girl didn't just go right to Trump and tell him that she did the whole fucking thing herself, and leave Craig (who is worthless) and Tana (who seems to be a strange combination of skeevy and lazy and underhanded that I just didn't see before) to park their asses on the couch in The Suite and let her take the reward by herself.

She's a better person than I am; someone would have gotten a foot in the ass.

I hit the sack about 10pm, but my house was clean. S. even bought Chinese takeout for dinner so I didn't have to cook.

And since my major weight-breakdown earlier this week, I have apparently lost a pound and a half because I'm working on my shit.

So. That's that. How boring could one's life possibly be?

What's up for this weekend, you ask? Hm, let's see. Today I want to get my work done early, and then I want to watch some trashy Court TV because I like to laugh at the inbred/stupid/dipshit people who actually think they're doing a good thing by airing their dirty laundry on TV. And since S. took his leftover Pork Fried Rice to lunch today I don't have to cook him lunch, and can lounge around and be a Lady of Leisure.

And then this weekend, we're going to do some other fun stuff, but that's another post for another time.

I wish I had something particularly witty to say right now, but can't think of anything. That's how Friday mornings go around here. I need more coffee, or something.

Did I tell you that the fuckwads who had the huge bulldog in my apartment complex, who were supposed to get rid of the bulldog, still have the bulldog?

Did I tell you that I saw them sneak him from their car to their apartment?

Did I tell you I called the office and reported their fucktard asses?

Did I?

PS: Thank you all for the dinner recommendations. I had already made a Pork Roast this week at S.'s request so the whole Pot Roast thing wasn't gonna happen. I had chicken but didn't want to cook it, so no chicken salad. Chinese takeout was the way to go, and I still get veggie lo mein for lunch today because the portions are huge. TeHy R tEh r0xX0r.

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:36 AM | #

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Thursday, April 14, 2005

YOU GOTTA HAVE FRIENDS

You guys are amazing. All of you. Thank you.

All of your comments were so kind and uplifting. I really appreciate every single thing that every one of you had to say, as well as the couple of e-mail conversations I had with you guys, too. I'm lucky to have good friends like you guys.

I was pretty down in the dumps with myself yesterday. I'm still not thrilled but I'm coming around, I guess. Part of this whole "beating myself up for my weight" thing comes from my eating disorder history, and it's really hard for me to get around it sometimes. I have to learn how, more effectively, to step outside myself and pay attention to WHO I AM and not to what size pants I'm wearing. It's a tough proposition, but with support like you guys give me, how can I not try harder?

I didn't mean to sound like I don't want to get or be pregnant. I would see it as a blessing if I were pregnant, it would just be more of a challenge to be pregnant while S. was gone away. It's something he'd like to have happen as much as I would, so I wanted to be able to share the experience with him as much as I could considering none of my (psychotic, mean, awful, fatheaded) family live here in OK.

So what did I do yesterday?

Nursed my sore muscles (yoga. ow.) and still went down and rode the exercise bike yesterday before dinner. It wasn't for a *long* time, it was for about 20 minutes, but I still went as hard and as fast as I could. I didn't hardly burn any calories. 100 of them, to be exact. But that's 100 more calories than I could burn sitting here on my rump typing and working.

We had a healthy dinner and I had a glass of wine after dinner, and we watched American Idol.

I have to say - I am very glad that Nadia is gone from American Idol. I didn't like her. Now, don't get me wrong. She has a great voice, and she's pretty, and I appreciate that she wanted me to "keep it real." That's all good. It has nothing to do with her hair, it has nothing to do with anything like that. I didn't like her becuase she couldn't sing without grimacing her face up into a grumpy, Scary-Spice kind of face, and I didn't like her becuase she DELIBERATELY chose songs that people couldn't relate to. I want to be able to envision these kids (kids?!?!) singing songs that are popular music, whether it's Country or Rock or Pop or whatever. So if I can sing along a little bit or think, "Wow, that's a great rendition of such-and-such song," then it's all the better for me. That's what this is about, after all. It's just like when they used to get upset at people who chose to sing their own personal compositions on nights they could pick their own songs... if you can't get into it, you can't relate to it, and you aren't going to have the votes. So the fact that Nadia was so determined to stick out because of her odd (awkward) song choices, and the fact that she kept proclaiming herself to be some kind of eclectic artist-type... well, that didn't jive for me. And her song choice two nights ago, that was the clincher. She performed the song very well, in a technical way. But it's not like I could sway to the music or anything... it was an unfamiliar song. She could have picked any other song that people actually knew, and could relate to. So she sunk her own ship with her pretentiousness, and that's her own doing.

Now what the fuck is going on with Bo Bice being in the bottom 3? I swear, when the Judges say something like, "YOU'RE THE ONE TO BEAT!" or, "I'LL SEE YOU IN THE FINAL!" or, "THAT'S THE BEST PERFORMANCE OF ANY OF THE GIRLS/GUYS IN THIS WHOLE PROGRAM!" then it's like a death omen. People say, "Aw, Bo doesn't need my vote, he rocked the house, everyone's going to vote for him. I'll vote for so-and-so." I really think that's what happened. Fortunately for me, I have ATT/Cingular Wireless so I am a huge American Idol geek and I just sit in front of the TV and start sending my text messages at the end of the show and vote like 10x for each of the ones I like. This week, I voted for Carrie (she's from here, she's cute as a fucking button, and she's a good singer) and I voted for Constantine (not because I am wooed by his "smoldering looks" or anything -- I don't really think he's that good looking, and he's gargantuanly, alienly, obscenely tall...) I thought he took a hell of a risk to sing Bohemian Rhapsody and did a great job of it, so I had to give him my vote for the week... he can't win on whatever sex appeal some women seem to think he has, so it was good for him to step up.

C'mon, I can be a little bit of a reality TV whore, can't I?

So today, two days after Yoga, my muscles still hurt. So we'll see how I feel later. I'm trying to decide if I'm going to go to Curves today or if I'm just going to try to ride the bike some more. If my arms and shoulders keep hurting, Curves might not be the best choice for me.

What should I make for dinner?

What is your favorite color?

Who do you want to win American Idol?

Yes, I'm expecting answers. Narrative not necessary. Feed me. With words.

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:15 AM | #

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Wednesday, April 13, 2005

MY NAME IS LUKA, I LIVE ON THE SECOND FLOOR

I've been struggling lately with a few different things, and I think they have at least partially kept me from blogging.

You see, although I can tool around the blogosphere and talk to my bloggy friends and encourage them when they share huge chunks of themselves, and reassure them that I don't go read them just because they crack my shit up or entertain the hell out of me, somewhere in the back of my head I worry about whether or not I'm being entertaining for you guys.

And then the real reason I started my blog, which was so I could write about my life and get things out and purge some of my cathartic vomit about how I feel about stuff, gets pushed aside and I start thinking I need to be fun all the time instead of real all the time.

So here's some reality. Buckle up.

I haven't lost any weight in a little while and I also haven't been going to the gym regularly. I ended up tweaking one of my knees on the squat machine at Curves and used that as an excuse "not to go." Then I had tons of reasons why I couldn't or didn't make it to Yoga, either. So it's been about two weeks since I had any kind of real exercise, and it was starting to take its toll. My weight has crept back up that few pounds that were on my yo-yo (yes, Virginia, I am using a scale regularly and frantically) and I find myself trying fruitlessly to lose weight instead of be healthy.

And then as a side note to that, let us remember that I went off the pill a couple of months ago. The news of S.'s upcoming TDY/deployment kind of rocked my world in a not-so-happy way, and we discussed being "careful" and "safe" sex-wise between now and then because it would suck to be going through my first pregnancy on my own without him here. It's an experience I want to share with him, since we're in this together. So then what did we do? Have some sex on a day that I thought was safely after ovulation, only to find that a day later I felt ovulation-type-cramps around where my ovaries would be if you could move my chub out of the way, and then I felt all pissed off because what if I'm pregnant now and that would make me 6 mo pregnant before S. gets home and then I haven't lost all my weight.

Couple that with a discussion I had with my sister in which she told me that if I get pregnant and am overweight, and I deliberately get pregnant, that I am endangering the life of my unborn child and will surely cause it to be obese as a child and obese as an adult PLUS have all kinds of health problems because no overweight women should be allowed to get pregnant because there are Studies! Which Prove! That Obesity! Causes every fucking bad thing ever for babies!

Then, on our recent trip to the Commissary, I was determined to shop for healthy foods, and bought healthy foods. And I was determined to plan out some menus, which I did. And I was determined to start eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner - again - to fuel my body and not to feed my face - and do all the things that we are supposed to do when we're trying to be ***HEALTHY*** and not necessarily a size six, which is a size I will never again see in my adult life.

And I've been doing that. And the scale isn't budging.

And so then I went to Yoga last night, thinking it would be a good way for me to ease back into my exercise routine.

And today I can hardly walk.

That Yoga man, I've got to say I'm sure it is much simpler for regular-weight girls and boys and men and women to do than it is for heavy girls like me to do. When I bend in certain directions, my tummy is very noticeable -- meaning, that if I'm supposed to try to put my chest to my knees... I can't, my tummy is in the way sometimes. Or when I'm supposed to do a lunge, or some other type of balancing/strengthening move, I notice that the pressure on my leg or my foot or my wrist or my whatever the hell, from my excess weight, is making it harder. I think that's why I have a hard time with Downward Facing Dog and stuff like that; my wrists start to hurt, and as they are my livelihood, I can't risk fucking them up.

So all around, although I have been made to feel loved and adored and appreciated by my husband, I'm on a raging bout of self hatred. And my weight loss has completely stalled out. And my exercise has too.

So now I have to try to up my exercise again and keep eating right (getting ready to go have 3/4 cup of lowfat Vanilla yogurt with some Grape Nuts in it, yum *crunch*) and doing the things I need to do in the hopes that I can get healthy.

Because whether I'm pregnant right now or not (won't be able to test for a while yet, and am oddly praying for "or not") I need to be healthy. But if I WERE to get pregnant right now, I can see how it would be very hard on my body, on my joints, et. al., just because of what I went through with yoga last night having not exercised in nearly two weeks for any stretch of time.

And that's why today, I think I suck ass. And that's why today I don't like myself very much.

And now I find out that Britney Spears is pregnant. Except for being like, ten years younger than me and 100 pounds lighter than me, what does she have going for her to be some kind of good mother except assloads of money? I'll be a great mom someday. I could be one now. I'd just be a fat one.

Rose typed all this stuff at 6:30 AM | #

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Monday, April 11, 2005

I AM A LITTLE BIT INSECURE - A LITTLE UNCONFIDENT

Happy Monday to y'all!

So I don't know if I should be excited or freaked out that we're kind of in the middle of a storm system that might start up some tornadoes on our LOCAL! DOPPLER RADAR! CHANNEL FIVE! YOUR! LOCAL DOPPLER RADAR! UP TO THE MINUTE! WEATHER REPORTS! LOCAL! DOPPLER RADAR!

Sorry. I've been flipping channels with the severe weather warnings, and I guess it's starting to rub off on me a little bit.

Yesterday, the weather sucked ass. It was kind of a cross between that weird "the rain is kind of like piss dripping out of the sky onto my head" and "holy crap, here comes the lightning, mang." The neatest part of it though, was that at around 4pm yesterday the sky opened up with big, refreshing raindrops and it was still sunny out and a little breezy. There's something about a good, honest-to-goodness sunshower that makes me feel all clean and refreshed and, you know, crap like that.

Heh.

So my woes and perils with the hot tub have been going remarkably better. It isn't in particular that people aren't USING it, but it seems the adults are using it. I haven't had any other screaming girly-man boys down there trying to act all awesome and stuff, which makes my patio once again a fun place to be. Especially now that our plants are looking green and sprouting and stuff, it's really somewhere I'm enjoying spending time. And when the weather is nice, well, I am all about the patio.

I'm currently working away and waiting for the maintenance guys to come and put in our new ceiling fan in the living room. Our sliding door to the balcony is in the living room, and the breeze is always so nice; it'll help circulate air around (and when I'm cooking stuff that makes smoke in the air, it'll be nice to have one in there so every freaking smoke alarm doesn't go off all at the same time)... overall, everyone wins. Wheehaw!

S. is off tinkering with his car today, which leaves me free to do things like work, blog, and manage a big pot of stew in the crockpot. I like days like this. Fortunately or unfortunately I forgot to work in here where in the world I'm going to have time to go to the gym, so I have to really get off the stick and just make a point of having that time in the afternoons for me to do. If the maintenance guy wasn't coming today I probably would have "found" some time to do it earlier today.

Whoops! Time ticks away and I have to get my work done so I can have a nice evening with the hubster.

Thanks for stopping by! Mwah!

Rose typed all this stuff at 12:51 PM | #

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Saturday, April 09, 2005

I'VE GOT SUNSHINE IN A BAG

So. Because I am an amazingly boring person, here was my TODAY:

Got some nookie. Whee!

Got up late. Whee!

Talked to friend on phone re Tarot thing we're 'teaching' tonight.

Had some caramel Rooibos tea from Adagio which rocked my freaking world.

Went out to lunch.

Went to Home Depot to "look at" ceiling fans and bought one. Urgh. Also "looked at" plants for the patio and came home with an Oregano (because my oregano just isn't growing the way it should be), a Rosemary (because none of my Rosemary had sprouted), a Chocolate Mint, Purple Sage, and Tri-Color Sage for S.'s new little herb garden that he's going to maintain. Sigh. So much for "Just looking."

Went to the store to get stuff to build cheese and cracker tray for study group tonight.

Got home, built cheese and cracker tray, called apartment maintenance to let them know we'd need them to put in the ceiling fan (S. could easily do it, but why risk hurting something if they'll do it for free?). S. built his herb garden. He's going to grow the various types of sage and then make his own sage smudges.

Then as I was planting the oregano and the rosemary into the window boxes, S. noticed one lone rosemary seed out of the like, probably 12 I planted, peeking out of the dirt. Fabulous. So, we planted the rosemary anyway but left PLENTY of room for the little seed to grow, so maybe we'll have two kinds of rosemary.

(Garden note: Chamomile is getting its dilly frilly leaves on it, sage is coming up like crazy insane-o huge and is now getting its first "real leaves," cilantro has TONS of "real leaves," chives have also started sprouting their actual bunches, I have THREE little pepper/chile plant shoots coming up but I forgot to mark them so I don't know if they're anaheims or jalapenos, and the other chiles I found ONE shoot deep down in the dirt that's trying to come up (guess I planted it too deep) so I hope to have three MORE pepper/chile plants in the next week or so. Pictures to follow when everything is identifiable.)

Now I'm sipping sugar free Kool-Aid and looking out at the pool. It's 80 degrees here today and absolutely beautiful, I'm talking gynormously amazingly perfect, so maybe we'll go get in the hot tub later tonight after the study group.

AND... my last night was fantabulous thanks to having another tarot/Goddess circle with two of my favorite witchy friends, so I truly thank you both for brightening my day.

Now.

I'm gonna go do another whole lotta nothing for an hour til we have to leave!

Woo!

Rose typed all this stuff at 4:45 PM | #

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Thursday, April 07, 2005

I AM SO BLESSED

Phone call from my mom a few minutes ago: Her CT scan of the tumor in her left lung, which is something that's been "on the radar" and looked at and tested and poked and prodded and scaring the shit out of all of us for the last two and one half years, showed no change.

No change. For the 5th time in a row.

No change. No need to follow up.

Benign, not growing, not changing, not moving. No need for follow-up is about the best news we could've possibly gotten about this.

So, I'm feeling amazingly grateful right about now.

Rose typed all this stuff at 5:45 PM | #

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MEME-LICIOUS

And taken with undying love from Ari...

Accent: Combo --> Arizona (read: no accent), some Minnesota, and if drunk enough, some Canadian. I no lie.
Bra size: 42D
Chore I hate: Laundry.
Dad's name: John
Essential make-up: Brown-black no-smudge mascara
Favorite perfume: I can't wear many, but one I can is Eternity/Calvin Klein
Gold or Silver: Silver
Hometown: Born: Anchorage, AK. Lived: Phoenix, AZ. Current: Oklahoma City.
Interesting fact: One of my best friends, I've never met in person, but my husband has. Twice.
Job title: My Own Boss, God Dammit
Kids: One dog, one cat, many unfertilized eggs in my ovaries.
Living arrangements: 3 bedroom apartment near Tinker AFB, OK
Mom's Birthplace: Brainerd, MN
Number of apples eaten in last week: 0 (what the hell is up with this)
Overnight hospital stays: 0 unless you count when I was born.
Phobia: Spiders (which was reinforced by my spider bite in 10/04) and getting my head wet.
Question you ask yourself a lot: What the fuck?
Religious affiliation: Pagan, in the most general and complete sense.
Siblings: One younger sister.
Time I wake up: Half past a monkey's ass, quarter til his balls.
Unnatural hair color: I had blonde highlights a little over a year ago, that's it.
Vegetable I refuse to eat: Veggies. Me likey. Even freaky foreign ones.
Worst habit: Workaholic to the point that NOTHING ELSE GETS DONE.
X-rays: ~~Zero.~~ I'm some freak of healthishness or something. Updated: One, I had a chest X-ray the last time I had bronchitis.
Yummy food I make: Everything I make is yummy, just ask my husband.
Zodiac sign: Aquarius

Rose typed all this stuff at 10:43 AM | #

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IT'S THE MOST MEME-FUL TIME OF THE YEAR

Seems like there are a freaking TON of memes going around the blogosphereoland right now. So you might see a couple of them show up here in the next day or two.

Starting with now.

Seen a gazillion places but originally seen from, and shamelessly whored from, Joelle.

» V I T A L S «

Name: Rose
Gender: Female
Location: OK
Height: 5'6-1/2"
Hair color: The same brown as a Hershey bar, because I haven't colored it.
Eye color: Depends; mostly grey-blue, but can be blue-green.
Is your hair long or short: long (past my shoulders, now)
Tattoos you have: Zero, baby.

» S C H O O L «

Are you still in school: I learn something new every day, does that count?
Favorite subject: Spanish.
Least favorite subject: I did well in them all, but math was my least happy pappy.
Do/did you buy lunch or bring it: I usually bought something, then also binge/secretively ate later, something else.

» F A V O R I T E «

Number: 42
Clothing : Jammies. I am a Jammies Whore.
TV show: House. Nip/Tuck. Trashy reality television the likes of which this world has never seen.
Fruit: Oranges right off the tree. Pomegranites.
Movie: The Princess Bride.
Scent: Earthy spicy natural, including the shit I make. Or should be making. Or would make if I could stop working at shit that actually pays the bills.
Ice Cream Flavor: Currently? Capuccino chocolate chunk.
Color: Blue. Real blue. Deep fun loud blue.
Season: Spring
Holiday: Halloween (Samhain) as it is first an important religious day for me but secondly as it is the anniversary of our handfasting.
Thing in your room: My new comfy bed with memory foam pillows and mattress topper. And porn.
Author: Considering HGTTG is coming out in movie-form (again), currently Douglas Adams.
TV channel: Whatever's got the trashy TV on when I'm in a TV mood.
Shape: Uhmmmmmm... pentacle shape?
Time: 6PM WHEN HUBBY GETS HOME CUZ HE'S ON DAYS NOW YAY
State: Arizona.
Disney character: I don't really have a favorite one of those.
Scary movie: Seven.

» T H I S O R T H A T «

Hot or cold: cold
Winter or summer: Ask me in a few months when I've been through an OK summer.
Spring or fall: Spring.
Shakira or Britney: What is this, boob or boobier?
MTV or VH1: They both pretty much suck now.
Rollerblading or skateboarding: me + wheels = no freaking way
Black or white: black
Orange or red: red
Yellow or green: green
purple or pink: pink
Cell phone or pager: cell
Powerpuff Girls or Charlie’s Angels: Charlies Angels
Scooby Doo or Dino: Scooby

» Y E S O R N O P E«

Are you a vegetarian: I cannot currently call myself vegetarian.
Do you like cows: I lurves me some cows. Moo.
Are you a bitch: Depends on the day of my cycle. Usually? In that negative, "don't fuck with me, asswad" way? No. I'm actually painfully nice.
Are you artistic: I believe I am.
Do you write poetry: I used to, teenage angst-filled poetry.
Can you ski: no
Are you British: no
Are you straight: Is this sexual preference? Then yes, I'm straight, but I've been known to think a chick was hot.
Are you evil: There's folks who think so.
Is Britney a whore: Is Britney a whore? Um, let me see, I'm gonna have to think about that one YES

» P R I V A T E «

Have you ever been in love: yes
do you smoke: no
Do you smoke weed: no
Crack, heroin, anything else: no
Beer good or beer bad: The right beer on the hottest day so cold that there's ice on the glass bottle and slush IN the glass bottle, is a treasure. Sol. With lime. Gimme.
Are you the sissy who drinks wine coolers: When I was in college, I always had two-liter-bottles of "Sun Country Wine Coolers" in my fridge.

» T H E L A S T «

Thing you ate: Braum's capuccino chocolate chunk frozen yogurt for dessert last night.
Thing you drank: A sip of my coffee.
Place you went: To hang out with some of hubby's friends.
Thing you got pierced/tattooed: Pierced - my left ear - one hole - about 20 years ago.
Song you heard: I don't remember, because it would have been something on TV last night, and I was a zombie.
Person you instant messaged: Kae.
Person you laughed with: Hubby.

» N O W «

What are you eating: Nothing yet, but soon to be some lowfat yogurt.
What are you drinking: coffee
Any shoes on: blue fuzzy slippers
Hair: beginning-of-the-morning ponytail
Listening to: the fan in the PC as there's no music on in here
Talking to anyone: no

» L A S T «

Last Cigarette: Nev. Ar. Nevar.
Last Alcoholic Drink: Glass of wine last night.
Last Car Ride: Back from dinner/hangout the other night.
Last Good Cry: I'm hormonal. I have good cries all the time.
Last Library Book: Probably not since I worked in a library.
Last book bought: A witchy book, I just can't remember which one.
Last Book Read: Reading "You Can Heal Your Life"
Last Movie Seen in Theatres: So long ago I can't even remember.
Last Movie Rented: Netflix'd: Hidalgo
Last Cuss Word Uttered: Knowing me, it was "fuck."
Last Beverage Drank: Wine, winey winey wine.
Last Phone Call: Steph
Last TV Show: Good Eats on the food network
LastTime Showered: Yesterday
Last Shoes Worn: fuzzy blue slippers
Last CD Played: Whatever was in my truck last time I listened
Last Item Bought: Groceries at the commissary, which would mean the "last thing bought" was probably a cucumber.
Last Download: ummmmmmmmmmmmmm
Last Annoyance: How long is this goddamn survey?
Last Thing Written: An email to a client last night
Last Key Used: can opener
Last Sleep: uh, I just got up a while ago
Last Ice Cream Eaten: See "last food eaten"
Last Chair Sat In: uhhhhhhhhhhhhh THE ONE IN FRONT OF MY COMPUTER?!
Last Webpage Visited: www.fark.com

Rose typed all this stuff at 6:34 AM | #

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Wednesday, April 06, 2005

WORKIN' IN A COAL MINE

Sixty-five minutes of typing what seems to be outrageously important corporate contract as it is being read to me in English by someone who translates it from another language. Done.

One hour and thirty minutes of Spanish transcription and translation. Done.

Typing thirty minutes of poorly-recorded car insurance accident statements (audio time), with conflicting stories. Done.

Walk dog. Twice. Done.

Make hubby lunch. Done.

Be ever-so-grateful that hubby is on days again. Done.

Clean up from lunch. Done.

Be pissed off that I have ovulation cramps. Done.

Pondered out loud to myself that I would much rather be having sex with my husband or masturbating in my bedroom than typing. Done.

Repeat above at least twice. Done.

Eat a sugar-free tropical orange Popsicle. Done.

Typing sixty minutes of various and sundry corporate lawyers dictating correspondence. Done.

Get a headache and ultra hormonal tension bitchiness. Done.

Email clients without being bitchy. Done.

Greet hubby. Done.

Have "Hi honey, how was your day" conversation. Done.

Pour a glass of wine. Done.

Dream of a shrimp salad for dinner. Done.

Rose typed all this stuff at 7:18 PM | #

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Tuesday, April 05, 2005

YOU AND ME BABY, AIN'T NOTHING BUT MAMMALS
SO LET'S DO IT LIKE THEY DO ON THE DISCOVERY CHANNEL

me: He actually said "Oh, wow, I'm sorry" when I went in for the third time to get him up this morning.
me: heh
me: It's the little things that make my life complete, apparently.
Kae : LoL I totally understand that
Kae : He's playing it safe
Kae : smart man
me: Ha!
me: Definitely playing it safe.
me: These hormones work against me. Right when I'm supposed to be ovulating I turn into a raging bitch.
me: How is life supposed to continue on the planet if that happens?
Kae : hrm. Uhm. I'm not exactly sure
Kae : when I ovulate, I'm like "touch me... and you DIE"
me: "I'M OVULATING! GODDAMMIT COME HERE RIGHT NOW AND IMPREGNANTE ME! HEY, WHERE ARE YOU GOING, ASSHOLE?"
me: Just another reason I don't see a pregnancy in my near future. heh
Kae : yeah... hard to get pregnant if he's trying to blend in with the paint on the walls...
Kae : :)
me: hehehehe
me: I just had a funky flash in my head of a discovery channel special.
me: "Although the female is obviously ovulating and now would be an optimal time to mate, note how the male of the species covers himself up with blankets on the couch in an effort to blend in with his surroundings, avoiding confrontation."
me: I should so blog this.
Kae : ROFLMAO

Rose typed all this stuff at 12:57 PM | #

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Monday, April 04, 2005

NEVER LET ME DOWN AGAIN

This weekend. Hrm. What can one say about this weekend? Overall, I suppose, it was pretty darned good.

Saturday we went to the Oklahoma Medieval Faire in Norman, where I picked up a Tibetan Sacred Singing Bowl which looks a lot like the smaller one on that page.

I love it.

A friend of mine had one in Phoenix and I thought it was pretty keen-o but I never fell in love with them. But this one, it really reached out and grabbed me, and was very affordable (because it is so small). Basically you hold it in the palm of your hand and with a wooden dowel, you rub around the outside of the bowl. They are made in a special way that when you rub the dowel around the outside of the bowl, the friction will create almost an "ohmmmm" sound. Mine is kind of a high-pitched ohmmm, almost like a falsetto hum, but it's very comforting and the vibrations on your hands are something else you're supposed to try to connect with. I love it. So does S., he can't stop playing with it.

Got some sun and some exercise on Saturday as a result of the Faire, which was awesome.

Sunday was another one of those weird mercury-in-retrograde days where communication falls to shit all around and nothing quite goes right; favorite restaurant closed, Commissary packed full of idiots, stuff like that. Oh, well.

And now today I'm back to work and TONS of work.

S. goes back on days this week though! So I am! Very! Excited! That means we might have some semblance of order around here sooner or later. I just have to get my work schedule all figured out where I can actually be not working when he's not working, and things might get back to normal around here.

The weather has been normal, and wonderful, and beautiful, and with it comes the fuckwits.

An example?

How about the stupid idiot neighbors downstairs, Mr. and Mrs. Dirty, who insist on leaving their smelly trash right outside their apartment underneath the stairwell, which lets the stink rise to my apartment? Yeah, how about them? Don't worry, I reported them to the office. Again.

How about the dipshits who can't pick up their dogs' dipshit? Yeah, them.

And then here's the kicker.

The pool opened, officially. And with it, the spa opened. Officially.

So what happened the first night? Cheeseandrice, people, it's like I live somewhere that has never seen a fucking common area spa. Surely the people who can afford to live in this apartment complex can find a LITTLE BIT OF FUCKING CLASS?

Instead, they let their teenagers out.

So at 8:00 p.m. in the quiet spa area which is not far from our balcony, there were six or seven screaming teenagers. Most of them boys. In the spa. Out of the spa. In the spa. Out of the spa. In - by the way - their FUCKING UNDERWEAR BOXER SHORT BULLSHIT FUCKTARD UNDERWEAR and not in swimsuits.

In the spa. Out of the spa. Wrestling and making loud noses. In the spa. Out of the spa. And then. It gets better.

Big toe in the (fucking freezing) swimming pool. Then one stepped in on the stairs and said, "SHIT THAT'S FUCKING COLD!"

Know how I know he said that? I heard him from the privacy of my own balcony.

Then another one right after that. Then the third one, whose balls apparently hadn't dropped yet, got in up to his knees and SCREAMED LIKE A GIRL as he flew himself out of the pool.

So then they all went to piss. And when they came out from pissing, guess what they did? They all took turns jumping into the icy waters of the non heated swimming pool.

And screaming like girls.

In their underwear.

I can only pray that some time soon, the novelty is going to wear off and the kiddies won't feel the need to scream and horse around in the fucking spa, until 10pm on a Saturday night.

Fucktards. And the parents of the fucktards for letting the fucktardery commence in the first place.

Sigh.

Rose typed all this stuff at 11:56 AM | #

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Friday, April 01, 2005

I GOT THEM AIR FORCE BLUES

And I don't mean the kind they dress up in and look all sexy, either. Rawr.

So last night we got some confirmation, the AF's best bet at some kind of "early notification system," that hubby will be going what is called TDY (which specifically means, 'temporary duty,' but when he's being sent with a contingent of guys to all do the same thing with a bunch of other guys who do some very specific stuff, and it involves him being out of the country for 90 days, in some fairly remote place, I will call it a deployment thankyouverymuch) at the end of June. April Fool's Joke? I wish.

So, here are the good things.

1) He's not going to, hopefully, a hostile war-laden location. I have so much love and pain and feeling in my heart for the soldiers and the wives of the men who have to go through that. They're going easy on me this time.

2) He should be home, provided there's no weird extension of his TDY, before the holiday season. Since this is a fairly regular rotation TDY for where we're stationed, I think that'll be the case.

3) It's only 90 days compared to some deployments that my military wife friends, online and offline, deal with of a year or more.

4) I have 90 days to fill him up with love, and if we aren't pregnant by then (I don't see tha that happening) then I'll have 90 days to truly focus all my attention on my fitness so we can get knocked up right when he gets the hell home.

I'm just frustrated because it was this time last year that he was gone on a 90-day TDY, but at least he was in the continental US and had access to phones and internet and stuff like that. I don't know anything about where he's going to be going, and I fear not hearing from him for days at a time, but that's part of this fabulous job I signed up for when I said, "I do."

Overall this is a very small ripple in a very big pond. And I'm sure I'll get a little more level-headed about it as we get closer to the end of June. Thanks for all of your support, guys. I feel bad freaking out this early. I should probably save up your kindness for when I really need it and he's not sleeping in the next room.

Mwah.

Rose typed all this stuff at 8:28 AM | #

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My job as a military wife is
to make it as easy as possible
for my beloved husband to do his job.
Where he leads, I will follow.

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

I am currently pimping:
Kasora Teas.

me @ consumating