Phew... you all are F.U.N.NY. I may just have to save a few of these for the future, but for today, since I am enjoying my husband being home and answering FUN questions like "Why are the batteries dead in all of the flashlights?" or "Who put this hole in the drywall?" or, "Do the kids always act like this?" and even, "Why don't we sit down and look at our finances?" I may not have time to write as often as I like to... but you can be sure that while I am sitting at the kitchen table with the finance spreadsheets and listening to the new plan to save MORE money, because who really needs to buy groceries, I will be thinking of this blog and all of the great things I would like to tell you about... honest.
But for today, I would like to hand the wheel over to Mimi. Not only does Mimi have time to write ONE blog... but she has time to write TWO! Can you believe it? I think she has a split personality and that is how she can cope, but what do I know? Anyway, her story made me laugh out loud! Enjoy!
How many people do you know who can say they lost their underwear at the grocery store? Yep, underpants lost at my local Kroger. Now before you start to think that I was getting hinky with the frozen foods guy, let me explain.
I had errands to run so I had to put on real clothes. For those of you who don't know me in person this means actual pants (not sweats or jammie type pants), shirts with no holes & the appropriate undergarments. If I'm at home all day, I cannot vouch for what you will see if you come knocking on my door unexpectedly, but I can assure you that it isn't pretty.
I was at Target looking for some of those new empire-waisted baby doll type tops that are in style right now & flatter my type of figure. You know the body type with extra rolls of fat around the middle & rear, (sorry to have to leave that image in your head.) When I was reaching in my jeans pocket to get out my car keys I thought I felt something in there besides my keys. I dug around & alas, nothing but keys. I hopped in my Mom-mobile (teal colored Ford Windstar mini-van) & ran off to the grocery store.
I got some lettuce from the produce department, started to move on & realized that I needed some fruit so I circled back. Then I saw them. Laying on the tile in the produce department was a pair of my underwear.
You may wonder how I knew they were mine, but I knew it as well as I know my name. Those were my underpants...laying on the floor...in the middle of the produce department...at my local Kroger.
They must have been stuck inside my jeans from the dryer. I quickly walked over to the bread aisle & weighed my choices. These were a favorite pair of mine. The kind that don't wedge into inappropriate places, don't droop, sag or show visible pantie lines. I needed to get these underwear back!
I casually walked back to produce noticed that there were several people around, but none of them were near my unders.
Luckily I was able to kick them into the organic food department & pick them up without anyone noticing.
I hope.
You can find more of Mimi at:
http://ScreamingMimitoo.blogspot.com
http://DevotionalDaze.blogspot.com
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1.07.2009
1.05.2009
Guns N Roses Tried To Tell Me...
I have no patience. None whatsoever. I can't help it-I blame my father. I don't know why I blame him but I figure I blame my mother for everything else, he may as well join the party.
Carl is coming home today. When? I do not know. What am I doing? Nothing... just sitting by the phone WAITING.
At first he thought he would be in around 2 pm which would offer him the opportunity to surprise the kids at school because guess what? I have not told the kids that their dad is coming home. Nope. I want them to be surprised and I want him to have the gift of their surprise... and I want to make sure I have my camera poised and ready to capture the surprise.
Well, the last I heard from him, he was in some obscure country (not so obscure really, but doesn't it sound more exciting when I say he is in some obscure country?) and he thought he would be arriving around 7:30 p.m. but I was to have my cell phone charged and attached to my body at all times so in case things change he would call me.
He acted as if I never have my cell phone on... sheesh, so what if I forget to charge it and will leave the house with it and never realize that I do not have it on. Those are mistakes that anyone could make. Speaking of cell phones... where is mine. Hmmmm--let me go look.
Well, I found it, and he has called twice. Darnit! It looks like he will be in at 5:35 tonight. He told me not to be late. Who does he think I am? Someone that would be late to pick their husband up from the airport because they have left all of the chores to be done until just now, when I only have 3 hours until I have to leave to go get him?
Uhm, yeah. I should probably get moving so I am not late.
Oh~by the way... I have asked my Cousin Steve to write my blog on Wednesday and he is having a hard time putting his thoughts into words that you all will understand. He says the pressure it too much for his weak psyche to handle. Whatever! So I am going to give him a pass for this week, but in the very near future, I will be having a "Hump Day with Cousin Steve" post written by him... who is the male version of me, so it should be interesting ladies.
That still leaves me with a space empty for this Wednesday when I will be too busy doing... other things, to write this blog. So I am opening it up to you all. If you think you have something you want to say on the Six-Pack, just email it to me. I will post the best one, and be aware that I have literary agents perusing this blog on a daily basis who email me and beg me to sign with them and are throwing money at me all the stinking time. Seriously... on my honor.
So this could be your chance to be an Internet quasi-celebrity... even if it is only in your own mind.
Email is on the side bar. I look forward to reading what you have always wanted to say but could never post it on your own blog because your husband/neighbor/mother/Doctor/mother-in-law/boss reads your "well-behaved" blog. You don't have to behave here (my mother already knows all of my vices) you just have to be entertaining. No pressure--let it rip!
Carl is coming home today. When? I do not know. What am I doing? Nothing... just sitting by the phone WAITING.
At first he thought he would be in around 2 pm which would offer him the opportunity to surprise the kids at school because guess what? I have not told the kids that their dad is coming home. Nope. I want them to be surprised and I want him to have the gift of their surprise... and I want to make sure I have my camera poised and ready to capture the surprise.
Well, the last I heard from him, he was in some obscure country (not so obscure really, but doesn't it sound more exciting when I say he is in some obscure country?) and he thought he would be arriving around 7:30 p.m. but I was to have my cell phone charged and attached to my body at all times so in case things change he would call me.
He acted as if I never have my cell phone on... sheesh, so what if I forget to charge it and will leave the house with it and never realize that I do not have it on. Those are mistakes that anyone could make. Speaking of cell phones... where is mine. Hmmmm--let me go look.
Well, I found it, and he has called twice. Darnit! It looks like he will be in at 5:35 tonight. He told me not to be late. Who does he think I am? Someone that would be late to pick their husband up from the airport because they have left all of the chores to be done until just now, when I only have 3 hours until I have to leave to go get him?
Uhm, yeah. I should probably get moving so I am not late.
Oh~by the way... I have asked my Cousin Steve to write my blog on Wednesday and he is having a hard time putting his thoughts into words that you all will understand. He says the pressure it too much for his weak psyche to handle. Whatever! So I am going to give him a pass for this week, but in the very near future, I will be having a "Hump Day with Cousin Steve" post written by him... who is the male version of me, so it should be interesting ladies.
That still leaves me with a space empty for this Wednesday when I will be too busy doing... other things, to write this blog. So I am opening it up to you all. If you think you have something you want to say on the Six-Pack, just email it to me. I will post the best one, and be aware that I have literary agents perusing this blog on a daily basis who email me and beg me to sign with them and are throwing money at me all the stinking time. Seriously... on my honor.
So this could be your chance to be an Internet quasi-celebrity... even if it is only in your own mind.
Email is on the side bar. I look forward to reading what you have always wanted to say but could never post it on your own blog because your husband/neighbor/mother/Doctor/mother-in-law/boss reads your "well-behaved" blog. You don't have to behave here (my mother already knows all of my vices) you just have to be entertaining. No pressure--let it rip!
1.03.2009
June Cleaver, President of the Mature Boobies Club...
This post is strictly for the members of the mature boobies club. If you do not have mature boobies... or if you do not have boobies at all (I am talking to you my 5 male readers) then you should just stop reading right now and go do something productive like put together a bird house or finish your high school essay on the Death of a Salesman.
Anyway...
Carl called yesterday to tell me that he was getting ready to board his flight to here and there and eventually over yonder which would bring him hither and near until he would finally be landing here in Omahaheho. When he told me he was a mere 55 hours away from being home I said "I don't think you should come. Seriously, something has happened to my body and I may just disgust you completely. It is better that you remember me as you have been in the last 5 months-like the 18 year old fresh face that you met so long ago. This is the way it has to be."
He said "Okay Sybil, see you in a few days."
I tell ya ladies... youth is wasted on the youth. I stood in front of the mirror the other day after my shower and I did not recognize the body in front of me. It is not very often I look at myself in the mirror because I usually have an audience in the bathroom which consists of a dog with horrible nasal problems, a baby that needs to shower with me because if I don't keep her in my sights at all times she will set the house on fire and somehow call child protective services, and the occasional 5-year-old that is asking for a snack. I have no doubt you know exactly what I am talking about. Me naked is something that only happens for approximately 3.5 minutes a day-and that is pushing my privacy allowance.
So there I was, taking inventory of my parts when I realized that I have saddlebags, a stomach that looks like a sharpay puppy is curled up on it and two socks for boobs. Yep... and these aren't even anklet socks, no these are knee highs. It is deplorable.
I have been working very hard to get myself back in shape and I am at the exact same weight I was when I got pregnant with Mary-which means I only need to lose the weight I gained from Hope, Aaron and Emma-but somehow my body does not look the way it did before I had Mary. Before Mary I was feeling good about myself, and obviously Carl was too since we got pregnant.
So what happened? Is this a cruel cruel joke? Why is it that women give and give their entire lives and end up with a saggy droopy body that needs Lycra, push up bras and a lot of alcohol in order to look and feel normal.
What a freakin' jip.
I saw the trailer for that movie "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" and let me tell you, it got me thinking. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could enter this world with old saggy bodies and leave it with young perky vivacious bodies? Wouldn't it be nice to not have to spend $10,000 at the plastic surgeon for a pair of ha-ha's that we had when we were 18? Why do I need to buy back my boobs?
I am frustrated... irritated... and I am seriously shaking my fist at gravity! I am here to say that I want my boobs back! I don't know where they went and I was young and dumb when I had all the good parts and I didn't even know how to use them to my fullest advantage. I mean, imagine how easy life would be if I had the body I had when I was 21 and the smarts I have now. Phew-women could rule the world if that were the case.
And the kicker is that I just spent $200 at Victoria's Secret on new bras that make me look amazing... fabulous... incredible with clothes on, but the moment I unhook that sucker, you can hear those boobs fall like a sonic boom. What good is looking good in your clothes if you look like an 80 year old naked?
I need to tell Carl that we don't need to pay off our house or save for the kids college... we need to go buy me some boobs! I do not want socks with rocks anymore.
Thank you for listening... this meeting of the mature boobies club is adjourned.
Don't forget to attend the meeting tomorrow for women whose legs no longer go up to their butt, but now their butt travels down to their legs. See you there!
Anyway...
Carl called yesterday to tell me that he was getting ready to board his flight to here and there and eventually over yonder which would bring him hither and near until he would finally be landing here in Omahaheho. When he told me he was a mere 55 hours away from being home I said "I don't think you should come. Seriously, something has happened to my body and I may just disgust you completely. It is better that you remember me as you have been in the last 5 months-like the 18 year old fresh face that you met so long ago. This is the way it has to be."
He said "Okay Sybil, see you in a few days."
I tell ya ladies... youth is wasted on the youth. I stood in front of the mirror the other day after my shower and I did not recognize the body in front of me. It is not very often I look at myself in the mirror because I usually have an audience in the bathroom which consists of a dog with horrible nasal problems, a baby that needs to shower with me because if I don't keep her in my sights at all times she will set the house on fire and somehow call child protective services, and the occasional 5-year-old that is asking for a snack. I have no doubt you know exactly what I am talking about. Me naked is something that only happens for approximately 3.5 minutes a day-and that is pushing my privacy allowance.
So there I was, taking inventory of my parts when I realized that I have saddlebags, a stomach that looks like a sharpay puppy is curled up on it and two socks for boobs. Yep... and these aren't even anklet socks, no these are knee highs. It is deplorable.
I have been working very hard to get myself back in shape and I am at the exact same weight I was when I got pregnant with Mary-which means I only need to lose the weight I gained from Hope, Aaron and Emma-but somehow my body does not look the way it did before I had Mary. Before Mary I was feeling good about myself, and obviously Carl was too since we got pregnant.
So what happened? Is this a cruel cruel joke? Why is it that women give and give their entire lives and end up with a saggy droopy body that needs Lycra, push up bras and a lot of alcohol in order to look and feel normal.
What a freakin' jip.
I saw the trailer for that movie "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" and let me tell you, it got me thinking. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could enter this world with old saggy bodies and leave it with young perky vivacious bodies? Wouldn't it be nice to not have to spend $10,000 at the plastic surgeon for a pair of ha-ha's that we had when we were 18? Why do I need to buy back my boobs?
I am frustrated... irritated... and I am seriously shaking my fist at gravity! I am here to say that I want my boobs back! I don't know where they went and I was young and dumb when I had all the good parts and I didn't even know how to use them to my fullest advantage. I mean, imagine how easy life would be if I had the body I had when I was 21 and the smarts I have now. Phew-women could rule the world if that were the case.
And the kicker is that I just spent $200 at Victoria's Secret on new bras that make me look amazing... fabulous... incredible with clothes on, but the moment I unhook that sucker, you can hear those boobs fall like a sonic boom. What good is looking good in your clothes if you look like an 80 year old naked?
I need to tell Carl that we don't need to pay off our house or save for the kids college... we need to go buy me some boobs! I do not want socks with rocks anymore.
Thank you for listening... this meeting of the mature boobies club is adjourned.
Don't forget to attend the meeting tomorrow for women whose legs no longer go up to their butt, but now their butt travels down to their legs. See you there!
1.02.2009
Starting The Year Off Right...
Just in case you were wondering when the next swoon worthy man would appear... I had to really think hard about who I wanted to start 2009 off with. I decided that it could not be anyone that was featured in the 2008 edition of the June Cleaver Likey list... you know, out with the old, in with the new.
I have never been attracted to red heads, or blondes for that matter. I like the dark hair, dark skin, light eyes kind of guy... one that looks pretty much spot on to my husband, but that does not mean I do not appreciate a hot blonde (Matthew McConaughey) or a perfectly swoon worthy red head:
If you have not watched the television show "Life" I highly recommend you going directly over to hulu.com and watching every episode. I dare you not to fall in love with Charlie Cruz... I double dare ya!
Damian Lewis is a Brit, so not only does he look good, he sounds good. Ahhhh, the accents I love are Bri-ish, Irish, Scottish and Chicago style (my husband talks like he works in a steel mill in Chicago and it just drives me mad I tell you... MAD!)
Enjoy~Happy 2009!
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1.01.2009
Happy Freakin' New Year...
Well, 2009 hit me with a virus that is costing me $300 to repair. That is right... the Universe hates me, and so does Bill Gates.
I freaked out a little because the laptop that I use is my baby, I love it more than our dog and I have actually left it a little money in my will. It has pictures, personal info, my game plan on how I will one day rule the world... and my book, the labor of love that I have been slaving over joyfully for the past 2 months is on that computer.
Don't worry, I know how to back up. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I knew I had a virus because my computer started doing strange things like flipping me off and telling me that I was fat.
So I got dressed and laced up my black converse tennis shoes and headed over to the Geek Squad. I chose the converse tennis shoes because I know how much geeks like a girl in canvas shoes with genuine rubber soles. I also donned my pocket protector and unbutton the top 3 buttons of my blouse... I figure if they didn't pay attention to my saggy boobs, the pocket protector would win them over and I would have a virus free computer in no time.
I approached the Geek Squad counter and met "Sam," the geek that would restore my life and eventually end up on June Cleaver's swoon worthy list of 2009. He had a faux hawk and black converse tennis shoes. I was so in.
Sam punched a few buttons and told me that he was going to run an analysis of my system and that it would take up to 15 minutes. He suggested that I browse the store and I did just that... I walked directly over to the computer aisle and guess what? You can buy a brand new, virus free, laptop at Best Buy for $498 this week. What a deal! I started thinking that I should just buy a new computer versus spending $300 on fixing the old one.
I was not sure what Carl would do in this situation and I could not just pick up my cell phone and call him so I did the next best thing... I called his twin brother. Shannon, my favorite sister-in-law answered and I told her what was going on and what I was thinking of doing. She casually mentioned that she was putting me on speaker phone and I continued my conversation with her. She asked if there was anything on the computer that was important, and although the answer to that question is YES!, everything has been backed up and I had the little stick with my life's fortune safely in the back pocket of my blue jeans. I did mention that I had a few nude pictures of myself on the computer and then Shannon reminded me that I was on speaker and my brother-in-law got up and left the room.
I am kidding about the nude pictures... I am a kidder... I like to kid.
So I walked back to Sam ready to tell him that I would like to just buy a new computer when he said:
"Uhm ma'am I would not get rid of this computer. There is not one laptop that we carry that can rival what you already have. Trust me."
I am thinking that Sam found my nude pictures during his "analysis" of the computer. (Again... I am kidding!)
So I made him sign an oath to me that he would clean my computer and make it run faster and perform better or he would have to cut his hair into a normal haircut for a normal adult male. He didn't think I was so funny when I made fun of his hair, but I reassured him that I thought he could make my computer into the six million dollar man and he smiled his geek smile and said, "I will do what I can."
I came home and ripped open the computer box that I had purchased for my children on Black Friday and started plugging things in outlets and praying that I could get to my bank account and to hulu.com and vuala, I had lift off.
So now I am coming to you on a Wal-Mart $350 special and it smells just like a new car. I won't have my beloved for another 3-5 days. Sam the geek first tried to tell me that he may not be able to get it back to me for seven days, but I just curled my hair in my finger and adjusted my pocket protector and he agreed to six day, maybe five, possibly four, and then Okay... three.
This virus was called "Antivirus 2009" and it kept popping up telling me that my computer was at risk and that I needed to download their software. I never downloaded anything, and I never clicked for more information, I just clicked the cancel button and it still made it's way through my government "lowest bidder" virus protector that I had on the laptop.
I blame Obama.
I freaked out a little because the laptop that I use is my baby, I love it more than our dog and I have actually left it a little money in my will. It has pictures, personal info, my game plan on how I will one day rule the world... and my book, the labor of love that I have been slaving over joyfully for the past 2 months is on that computer.
Don't worry, I know how to back up. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I knew I had a virus because my computer started doing strange things like flipping me off and telling me that I was fat.
So I got dressed and laced up my black converse tennis shoes and headed over to the Geek Squad. I chose the converse tennis shoes because I know how much geeks like a girl in canvas shoes with genuine rubber soles. I also donned my pocket protector and unbutton the top 3 buttons of my blouse... I figure if they didn't pay attention to my saggy boobs, the pocket protector would win them over and I would have a virus free computer in no time.
I approached the Geek Squad counter and met "Sam," the geek that would restore my life and eventually end up on June Cleaver's swoon worthy list of 2009. He had a faux hawk and black converse tennis shoes. I was so in.
Sam punched a few buttons and told me that he was going to run an analysis of my system and that it would take up to 15 minutes. He suggested that I browse the store and I did just that... I walked directly over to the computer aisle and guess what? You can buy a brand new, virus free, laptop at Best Buy for $498 this week. What a deal! I started thinking that I should just buy a new computer versus spending $300 on fixing the old one.
I was not sure what Carl would do in this situation and I could not just pick up my cell phone and call him so I did the next best thing... I called his twin brother. Shannon, my favorite sister-in-law answered and I told her what was going on and what I was thinking of doing. She casually mentioned that she was putting me on speaker phone and I continued my conversation with her. She asked if there was anything on the computer that was important, and although the answer to that question is YES!, everything has been backed up and I had the little stick with my life's fortune safely in the back pocket of my blue jeans. I did mention that I had a few nude pictures of myself on the computer and then Shannon reminded me that I was on speaker and my brother-in-law got up and left the room.
I am kidding about the nude pictures... I am a kidder... I like to kid.
So I walked back to Sam ready to tell him that I would like to just buy a new computer when he said:
"Uhm ma'am I would not get rid of this computer. There is not one laptop that we carry that can rival what you already have. Trust me."
I am thinking that Sam found my nude pictures during his "analysis" of the computer. (Again... I am kidding!)
So I made him sign an oath to me that he would clean my computer and make it run faster and perform better or he would have to cut his hair into a normal haircut for a normal adult male. He didn't think I was so funny when I made fun of his hair, but I reassured him that I thought he could make my computer into the six million dollar man and he smiled his geek smile and said, "I will do what I can."
I came home and ripped open the computer box that I had purchased for my children on Black Friday and started plugging things in outlets and praying that I could get to my bank account and to hulu.com and vuala, I had lift off.
So now I am coming to you on a Wal-Mart $350 special and it smells just like a new car. I won't have my beloved for another 3-5 days. Sam the geek first tried to tell me that he may not be able to get it back to me for seven days, but I just curled my hair in my finger and adjusted my pocket protector and he agreed to six day, maybe five, possibly four, and then Okay... three.
This virus was called "Antivirus 2009" and it kept popping up telling me that my computer was at risk and that I needed to download their software. I never downloaded anything, and I never clicked for more information, I just clicked the cancel button and it still made it's way through my government "lowest bidder" virus protector that I had on the laptop.
I blame Obama.
12.31.2008
The Rambling Thoughts Of A Woman Going Crazy...
I asked Carl yesterday if he could see himself at home... if he could see himself here, and his answer was "No."
I was glad he said that because I have been nervous about the fact that I cannot see him here either. I don't know if it is because he has been gone for five months, or because I know we have another seven months of separation ahead of us after this R&R, but I have been unable to close my eyes and see my husband sleeping in our bed, or eating breakfast at the kitchen table, or laughing with me or even sitting in front of me having a face to face conversation that lasts longer than 15 minutes.
Isn't that crazy?
There is nothing more I want than to have my husband here, so why is it so hard to let my heart and mind picture him here with me?
Some days I wonder if we'll survive this year... meaning, I fear that when he does come home for good we will be different. Will we be each other's best friend again? Will he want to always be with me and love only me?
The mind is a horrible enemy for the wife of a deployed husband.
How easily he has slipped from being someone I can reach out and touch to someone that I only get to talk to for minutes a day and when something happens in our lives here he may not ever even know about it. Just the other day he asked if the back window had ever been fixed. I had it fixed weeks ago but never remembered to tell him when we talked.
I try and email him everything that is happening, but so much happens and emails are so tedious that somewhere along the line our messages to each other went from lengthy love letters to quick one-liners about the day and whether or not the oil in the van was changed.
Not a moment goes by that he is not in my thoughts, but is that enough? He remarks that I do not write him enough or send enough pictures and I know that is only because he is there... away from us, but there are times when I want to say "What about me?"
How selfish is that... What about me? Five months ago I had a husband at home and I felt secure in everything we did. Today I am without him and I have had to do it all... his jobs and my jobs. But look at what he has to do. How can I ever be so selfish as to complain about my situation over his. That is hard because I really like to complain sometimes-I am a woman, I can't help it.
But if I say this is unfair, I am not being supportive.
I just want to close my eyes and see him here. I just want to go to sleep at night thinking that he is with me.
I am not going to want him to leave after this R&R and that is what is worrying me the most. How am I supposed to say good-bye again? No wife should ever have to do this. All I will have is 2 weeks to get me through the next 7 months... to get him through the next 7 months. I believe that his sanity relies a lot on me and how I handle things. If I go crazy, he will feel helpless so far away from me, and that is not good.
After 15 years of marriage I am nervous about seeing my husband.
If I am being completely honest, I would admit that my stomach clenches at that thought of having him so close to being here, and what if something happens between now and then? Is that why I can't picture him here with me? Because I am so frightened that life will throw us a curve ball that I won't be able to handle? These are thoughts that I push far from my mind and never dwell upon. 5 months is nothing in comparison to a lifetime without him... and I can't even talk about that right now.
I wish he was already here so that I did not have to worry about so many things right now. I remember the day that he left I thought that I would never feel such heartache, but having him almost here... almost with me... the thought of him being just days away from me, is proving to be the hardest yet.
.
I was glad he said that because I have been nervous about the fact that I cannot see him here either. I don't know if it is because he has been gone for five months, or because I know we have another seven months of separation ahead of us after this R&R, but I have been unable to close my eyes and see my husband sleeping in our bed, or eating breakfast at the kitchen table, or laughing with me or even sitting in front of me having a face to face conversation that lasts longer than 15 minutes.
Isn't that crazy?
There is nothing more I want than to have my husband here, so why is it so hard to let my heart and mind picture him here with me?
Some days I wonder if we'll survive this year... meaning, I fear that when he does come home for good we will be different. Will we be each other's best friend again? Will he want to always be with me and love only me?
The mind is a horrible enemy for the wife of a deployed husband.
How easily he has slipped from being someone I can reach out and touch to someone that I only get to talk to for minutes a day and when something happens in our lives here he may not ever even know about it. Just the other day he asked if the back window had ever been fixed. I had it fixed weeks ago but never remembered to tell him when we talked.
I try and email him everything that is happening, but so much happens and emails are so tedious that somewhere along the line our messages to each other went from lengthy love letters to quick one-liners about the day and whether or not the oil in the van was changed.
Not a moment goes by that he is not in my thoughts, but is that enough? He remarks that I do not write him enough or send enough pictures and I know that is only because he is there... away from us, but there are times when I want to say "What about me?"
How selfish is that... What about me? Five months ago I had a husband at home and I felt secure in everything we did. Today I am without him and I have had to do it all... his jobs and my jobs. But look at what he has to do. How can I ever be so selfish as to complain about my situation over his. That is hard because I really like to complain sometimes-I am a woman, I can't help it.
But if I say this is unfair, I am not being supportive.
I just want to close my eyes and see him here. I just want to go to sleep at night thinking that he is with me.
I am not going to want him to leave after this R&R and that is what is worrying me the most. How am I supposed to say good-bye again? No wife should ever have to do this. All I will have is 2 weeks to get me through the next 7 months... to get him through the next 7 months. I believe that his sanity relies a lot on me and how I handle things. If I go crazy, he will feel helpless so far away from me, and that is not good.
After 15 years of marriage I am nervous about seeing my husband.
If I am being completely honest, I would admit that my stomach clenches at that thought of having him so close to being here, and what if something happens between now and then? Is that why I can't picture him here with me? Because I am so frightened that life will throw us a curve ball that I won't be able to handle? These are thoughts that I push far from my mind and never dwell upon. 5 months is nothing in comparison to a lifetime without him... and I can't even talk about that right now.
I wish he was already here so that I did not have to worry about so many things right now. I remember the day that he left I thought that I would never feel such heartache, but having him almost here... almost with me... the thought of him being just days away from me, is proving to be the hardest yet.
.
12.30.2008
Is There Really Someone On The Other End Of This Computer?
Blogs... who came up with blogs? I don't know, but I am glad they did. This blog offers me an outlet for my brain. What comes out of my brain may or may not be very good, but if I kept it all bottled up inside I would walk around with a constipated look on my face and that would cause wrinkles and I make it a point to not have wrinkles (yeah, right.)
Who reads blogs? Well, my Aunt Barb reads this blog... and so does my Aunt Judi. Cousin Steve, my ma... the occasional stalker and a few other fine people. I have admitted that I do not do a lot of blog reading myself. That list on the sidebar is about all I get to a few days out of the week. Those people have become my "blog circle." Funny thing is, they probably don't even realize that they are part of a circle because I rarely comment on their blogs. If I find something funny I will usually comment for the simple fact that I like funny. I appreciate funny.
But what you may not know is that I have probably been on your blog as well. Oh yea, I am what you call a lurker. I lurk over to your blog if you leave a comment and read what you have to say... and chances are I will return, just to see how that thing with Timmy and the toilet seat worked out for you. I can't help it... I am always amazed that there may just be other people--NORMAL people--on the other side of this computer screen.
Which brings me to my point. I like the blog Threedonia for the simple fact that there are many contributors and therefore there are many opportunities for humor. The comments become a "sub-post" to the post and they are sometimes more entertaining than the original funny thought. This is where I read Wankette. She is funny, sarcastic, intelligent and irritated with the same things that I am... I think she is great.
But there is real life outside of the blogsphere and it came to my attention yesterday that a person was in need of help. A couple of weeks ago someone did something for me out of the kindness of her heart, and she simply told me to pass it on. So, when I read Wankette's story I decided to do something about it... and also to give you, my loyal, compassionate readers a chance to pass it on as well. Here is Wankette's story"
Here’s the thing: last year I injured my back in a workplace incident. It was one of those workplaces that barely-employed writers frequent in order to have things like insurance. And food. And a roof.
Anyway.
Ever since, I have been a worker’s comp captive, bound to my ex-employer’s insurance company, who has tried its best to make me go away, by delaying doctor appointment-approval and disability checks.
And in this manner, I have been pecked to death by ducks — or, more accurately, financially ruined while I await a settlement, which is still months off.
Rufus, Floyd & Chuck know about this, and have quite kindly allowed me to ask the readers here for any assistance they might offer. My temporary disability money stopped in August — it wasn’t much anyway — and all local assistance ran out months before that.
I’m facing imminent utility (gas, electricity, phone) turn-off, plus eviction, so my pride has suddenly become a non-factor.
As I told the boys, I want you to know, I’m not normally the kind of person who runs around expecting complete strangers to bail her out of everything (I’m a conservative, for goodness’ sake), but at this point, I’m fresh out of ideas.
So any helpful thoughts — write me at gutette@yahoo.com – would be appreciated, much more than you’ll ever know.
Wankette
So, to answer my own question... yes, there is someone on the other end of that computer screen and they are in need. Wouldn't it be wonderful to really recall what Christmas is about this year? Just keep Wankette in your thoughts today and if all you can do is send up a prayer or two for her... that would be wonderful. If you have any other ideas, her email is above.
Pass It On...
.
Who reads blogs? Well, my Aunt Barb reads this blog... and so does my Aunt Judi. Cousin Steve, my ma... the occasional stalker and a few other fine people. I have admitted that I do not do a lot of blog reading myself. That list on the sidebar is about all I get to a few days out of the week. Those people have become my "blog circle." Funny thing is, they probably don't even realize that they are part of a circle because I rarely comment on their blogs. If I find something funny I will usually comment for the simple fact that I like funny. I appreciate funny.
But what you may not know is that I have probably been on your blog as well. Oh yea, I am what you call a lurker. I lurk over to your blog if you leave a comment and read what you have to say... and chances are I will return, just to see how that thing with Timmy and the toilet seat worked out for you. I can't help it... I am always amazed that there may just be other people--NORMAL people--on the other side of this computer screen.
Which brings me to my point. I like the blog Threedonia for the simple fact that there are many contributors and therefore there are many opportunities for humor. The comments become a "sub-post" to the post and they are sometimes more entertaining than the original funny thought. This is where I read Wankette. She is funny, sarcastic, intelligent and irritated with the same things that I am... I think she is great.
But there is real life outside of the blogsphere and it came to my attention yesterday that a person was in need of help. A couple of weeks ago someone did something for me out of the kindness of her heart, and she simply told me to pass it on. So, when I read Wankette's story I decided to do something about it... and also to give you, my loyal, compassionate readers a chance to pass it on as well. Here is Wankette's story"
Here’s the thing: last year I injured my back in a workplace incident. It was one of those workplaces that barely-employed writers frequent in order to have things like insurance. And food. And a roof.
Anyway.
Ever since, I have been a worker’s comp captive, bound to my ex-employer’s insurance company, who has tried its best to make me go away, by delaying doctor appointment-approval and disability checks.
And in this manner, I have been pecked to death by ducks — or, more accurately, financially ruined while I await a settlement, which is still months off.
Rufus, Floyd & Chuck know about this, and have quite kindly allowed me to ask the readers here for any assistance they might offer. My temporary disability money stopped in August — it wasn’t much anyway — and all local assistance ran out months before that.
I’m facing imminent utility (gas, electricity, phone) turn-off, plus eviction, so my pride has suddenly become a non-factor.
As I told the boys, I want you to know, I’m not normally the kind of person who runs around expecting complete strangers to bail her out of everything (I’m a conservative, for goodness’ sake), but at this point, I’m fresh out of ideas.
So any helpful thoughts — write me at gutette@yahoo.com – would be appreciated, much more than you’ll ever know.
Wankette
So, to answer my own question... yes, there is someone on the other end of that computer screen and they are in need. Wouldn't it be wonderful to really recall what Christmas is about this year? Just keep Wankette in your thoughts today and if all you can do is send up a prayer or two for her... that would be wonderful. If you have any other ideas, her email is above.
Pass It On...
.
12.29.2008
One Week From Today...
One week and Carl should be home for his two weeks of R&R. Can you stand it?
I have been making mental checklists of things I want to get accomplished before he arrives:
I have been making mental checklists of things I want to get accomplished before he arrives:
- Organize finances (oh crap)
- Organize garage (blech)
- Organize closet (rumor has it there is a floor to my closet)
- Organize the rental house spreadsheet (Carl loves spreadsheets... they turn him on.)
- Get rid of all People magazines and US magazines... stock the house with intelligent reads like Money and Gold Digest. (It is the little things that make him happy)
- Hide all granny panties. (I don't want to frighten the poor guy)
- Buy unmentionables that I won't mention here on this blog.
- Take down all Christmas decorations (he said he would help, but I know he was just saying that to "act" supportive He would much rather spend his time at home doing... other things.)
- Lose 10lbs (in 7 days? Not a problem.)
- Color my roots (What? You thought I was naturally this color? Maybe when I was 7).
- Shave (I'll need a few razors for this considering he has been gone for 5 months-and it is winter)
- Give the dog a bath (not because Carl would care, but because the dog stinks).
- Buy beer (and pretend they are the same ones that were in the fridge when he left.)
- Delete all emails from blogging readers with the subject heading "hot man" (just because).
I bet Carl's mental list looks like this:
- Get home.
.
12.28.2008
Is It Over Yet...
Sooo, how has your Christmas Break been going so far? That bad eh? Mine too... oh now, it hasn't been all that bad. I can safely say that the American Economy may have taken a turn for the better because I started shopping last week and have not been able to stop. Why? I don't know... if I knew, I would stop, but since I do not know... I will continue.
Maybe I am trying to fill a void... I'm not sure.
Christmas without Carl was hard... and that is about all I want to say on that topic.
Let's move onto something else shall we? How about Christmas with my mother-in-law? That is right... I said it. My mother-in-law has been spending the Christmas holiday with us. I don't know how she found our house... I told her that we still lived in Virginia, but one day she just showed up on our doorstep with a suitcase full of cilantro and pinto beans.
Well, maybe that isn't the way it happened. It was all your fault actually, with all of your comments and niceties that made me soft. I am used to being a little more irritated and angry, but you people have made me weak and vulnerable. So stop it will you? Please, I prefer sarcasm to nice, edgy to sweet. If you can't say something that will make me more cynical, then please do not say anything at all... I'm kidding. No I'm not.
I bought my mother-in-law a plane ticket a few weeks ago so that she could spend the Holiday with us.
So that she wouldn't be alone on Christmas.
So that she could be a distraction for me and my own pity party.
So that she could play with the little people who are out of school for almost three stinkin' weeks!
So far is has been going rather smoothly... other than the fact that I have been permanently planted on the toilet. It could be because she has reintroduced my body to a diet of oil and oil, and a little lard, and the occasional dollop of poison. Did I mention oil? But that mysterious spot I had on the middle of my back has disappeared so she must be telling me the truth when she says she is a witch. Hmmm.
The kids have been doing well... if you don't pay attention to the whining, the lack of sharing and the overall greediness that Christmas has brought. Ahhh, tis the season. Maybe they are hard to handle because I am on my period... and my mother-in-law is in my kitchen... and my checkbook has run out of checks so that means that I must have run out of money... and my little sister gave me cocktail napkins for Christmas that say "Diet, another way to say Did I Eat That?"
Now I have to start thinking of New Years Resolutions. Maybe I should resolve to not resolve anything. Maybe I should resolve to gain weight... that one I could keep!
Anyway, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. Mine was really good once the vodka kicked in... and the Benedryl too. Oh stop... the Benedryl was for my mother-in-law, not the children. The vodka was for the kids.
I just had pie.
Maybe I am trying to fill a void... I'm not sure.
Christmas without Carl was hard... and that is about all I want to say on that topic.
Let's move onto something else shall we? How about Christmas with my mother-in-law? That is right... I said it. My mother-in-law has been spending the Christmas holiday with us. I don't know how she found our house... I told her that we still lived in Virginia, but one day she just showed up on our doorstep with a suitcase full of cilantro and pinto beans.
Well, maybe that isn't the way it happened. It was all your fault actually, with all of your comments and niceties that made me soft. I am used to being a little more irritated and angry, but you people have made me weak and vulnerable. So stop it will you? Please, I prefer sarcasm to nice, edgy to sweet. If you can't say something that will make me more cynical, then please do not say anything at all... I'm kidding. No I'm not.
I bought my mother-in-law a plane ticket a few weeks ago so that she could spend the Holiday with us.
So that she wouldn't be alone on Christmas.
So that she could be a distraction for me and my own pity party.
So that she could play with the little people who are out of school for almost three stinkin' weeks!
So far is has been going rather smoothly... other than the fact that I have been permanently planted on the toilet. It could be because she has reintroduced my body to a diet of oil and oil, and a little lard, and the occasional dollop of poison. Did I mention oil? But that mysterious spot I had on the middle of my back has disappeared so she must be telling me the truth when she says she is a witch. Hmmm.
The kids have been doing well... if you don't pay attention to the whining, the lack of sharing and the overall greediness that Christmas has brought. Ahhh, tis the season. Maybe they are hard to handle because I am on my period... and my mother-in-law is in my kitchen... and my checkbook has run out of checks so that means that I must have run out of money... and my little sister gave me cocktail napkins for Christmas that say "Diet, another way to say Did I Eat That?"
Now I have to start thinking of New Years Resolutions. Maybe I should resolve to not resolve anything. Maybe I should resolve to gain weight... that one I could keep!
Anyway, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. Mine was really good once the vodka kicked in... and the Benedryl too. Oh stop... the Benedryl was for my mother-in-law, not the children. The vodka was for the kids.
I just had pie.
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