The Online Dating Site Thing - or, Freaks And Weirdos

   I'm no stranger to freaks and weirdos.  When I was a child some of my peers called me weird because of my high IQ and the fact I didn't like "girly" things.  As a young adult, I was called a freak because I enjoyed role playing games like D&D.  As a woman in my mid-30's, I've been called a freaky weirdo because I still love Star Wars and superhero movies and I still have crushes on celebrities.  Hot is hot, no matter how old one is.  Anyway...all of that is tame compared to the ignoramus I had to deal with last night.

   I've been on an online dating site for a while, and have had limited success.  I met who I thought was a great guy on this site, and we dated exclusively for a few months.  I didn't know he had a severe case of PTSD and drank himself to sleep almost every night.  He broke up with me via text message.  I texted back and forth with another man for almost a year before I decided he wasn't the one.  We both claimed to want to meet in person but he was "broke" every time I said I wanted to meet up.  I wouldn't meet up with him unless it was in a public place and he, always being broke, wanted me to go to his place.  Red flag!  I left him a scathing text message and blocked his number.

   A man sent me a message on this site about a month ago, so I looked at his profile.  I don't want to date a man who has four children under the age of 10, and I'm not into the full-sleeve tattoos, so I told him what I tell most other men who message me:  "I'm not interested."  Polite and to the point, because I wasn't raised to be rude unless it's necessary.  Most men who receive this message from me thank me for responding then back off.  Not this jerk. The same man sent me a message last night, and all it said was "So beautiful."  Once again I replied with my standard three word brush-off.  The following is the result of my being polite:

Him: "I don't want to write two or three paragraphs about myself because I don't like talking about myself, but I will if that's what it takes to get you to talk to me." (I'm cleaning up the grammar and spelling because this man uses text speak, which I despise!)

Me:  "Please stop messaging me."  Once again, polite and to the point.

Him:  "Or what?"

   By this time I've had enough, so I report this man to the dating website as being abusive and threatening.  As I'm typing my report (on my phone), my phone is blowing up because this ass is still sending me messages.  Here's another one.

Him:  "You think you're all that, don't you?  You're not.  Trust me."

   I snickered at that one, because I know I'm not "all that".  I'm still not responding either, pal.

Him:  "You think you're all that but you're not.  Snobby girls always get theirs.  Usually in a dark alley next to a bar."

   I'm dying laughing now, because this guy is either drunk or doesn't take rejection well.  Not five minutes after I filed the report he was removed from the dating website.  This morning I wake up to find a message from someone on that site, so I read it.  Lo and behold if it isn't the same asshole from last night, but now he's using a different user name.  Block and report.  No wonder he's single.

   I'm not alone because I want to be.  Quite the opposite, actually.  I hate being without someone special in my life.  However, I have standards.  I don't like a lot of tattoos on a man.  I don't want to date a man with more than two children.  I won't date a man who is shorter than I am.  I won't give a man's online dating profile a second look if he uses a lot of text speak.  I'm guilty of LOL and BRB, but I despise "ur" and "K". I'm not used to pursuing men but I'm used to men pursuing me.  I won't look for guys at a bar because, honestly, guys who let women pick them up at the bar are after only one thing.  I'm horrible at flirting but I love to flirt.

   I have a feeling I'll never date, fall in love, or get married again, and I'm starting to come to terms with that.  I'd rather set my standards high and not know what I'm missing than set them low and be disappointed later.

Facebook Rummage Sale Pages

   A few months ago, my mother says to me "Sis, you have to check out this piece of glass I found on a Facebook rummage sale page".  My reply was "What are you talking about?"  She then proceeded to explain.  Facebook rummage sale pages are like a page for a band, group, etc.  One peruses these pages instead of physically travelling to rummage sales to buy junk.
   Here's how it works:

• Sellers post photos of what they're trying to get rid of.  I've seen collectible glassware, playpens, hot tubs, and previously worn bras on these pages.  People also post items they would like to purchase or items they want given to them, such as baby wipes and diapers.  I'll get to that later.
• If you like an item, you comment on the photo.  The first person stating they want the item has dibs, then other people "get in line" in case the first person doesn't pick it up or if they change their mind.
• Pick up/delivery is arranged.  Most people meet in a public place, such as a store parking lot, baseball diamond, etc.
• Once the item has been sold, the seller then removes the photo from the rummage sale page and life goes on.

I've purchased and sold quite a few items using these pages I've never had a problem when it comes to people meeting me, payment, etc.  This system works great...most of the time. These pages have people who call themselves "Admin", and they're basically referees when font fights break out or when people don't meet to pick up an item.  I'm a member of quite a few of these pages, and I've seen people fight over the dumbest things.  I guess one person's trash really is another person's treasure.
   Here are a few of my problems with the Facebook rummage sale pages: 

• I recently posted my old cell phone on one of these pages.  I gave a thoroughly detailed description which included the model of phone, technical specs, and service provider information.  I stated I didn't know if the phone could be used with a different service provider or with a pre-pay plan.  I gave the price I wanted to get out of the phone and I also stated no trades would be accepted.  Within a few minutes of posting, I got the following questions:  "Can I use this with Verizon?", "Can I use this as a pre-paid phone?", and "I'll trade you my phone for yours".  Jeezus, people, read the fricking description!  The lady who repeatedly offered me $20 for my smartphone in excellent condition was told off via private message.
• One person kept commenting "I wish I had the money to buy this".  I wish you had the money, too.  Until you do, please stop commenting because my phone is blowing up with messages the way it is.  I politely told this person to stop commenting on my photos of items for sale if she wasn't interested in purchasing anything.  She didn't stop commenting, so I blocked her.
• One young girl posted she was out of money and needed baby wipes, diapers, and formula for her baby.  This one pissed me off, because she was obviously on a computer or cell phone.  She had enough money to pay for Internet and cell phone service but she didn't have enough money to buy necessities for her baby?!  I was even more amazed at the number of people who took these items to this woman's mobile home.  I understand we all fall on hard times, but this is re-damn-diculous.
• Some of these people buying and selling items post their home address and phone number where everyone can see it.  This is stupid for obvious reasons, especially when one says "Come get this item now before my husband gets home" then proceeds to give her address and phone number.  The same goes for meeting people in a not so public place.  Last weekend I sold an item and met a lady in a park at the intersection of two busy highways.  It's kind of out in the country, so I took my son with me so I wouldn't be alone.  She turned out to be a very nice person, and I had to buy Kiddo lunch at Burger King for going with me, but the peace of mind was worth it.
• Please don't get me started on the grammar some of these people use.  There have been times when I've asked "What do you mean?" because I couldn't decipher a comment.  I know not everyone is intelligent, but "Is this tooken?" totally rubbed me the wrong way.

  Bottom line?  Think of it as a member's only Craig's List.  This is a great way to buy and sell items if you can deal with low-ball offers, people who don't show up when they say they will, and font fights over the authenticity of a Coach bag.

A Little Over 4 Months Later I've been busy.  Sue me.  Anyway...My divorce was final July 8th, and a lot happened between that day and my last blog post.  For me, blogging is therapeutic.  Bug out now if you don't like it.My now ex-husband and I signed divorce papers on May 4th, and that's the last time I've seen him or heard his voice.  My son and I moved out of his house on April 27th.  My ex said we could live there until the divorce was final, but there's no way I would've made it that long.  I was laid off from my job on April 28th due to lack of work and my "current emotional state", as the HR lady put it.  Ryan and I exchanged many emails and texts during that time period - some nice, some awful.A couple of weeks after we moved out, I ran into a high school friend, who is a former co-worker and currently works with my ex-husband.  He told me many horrible things about the man I married.  I don't know how much of the stuff he told me is true, but it's sickening to think I was married to Ryan for as long as I was if these things really happened.  On top of that, the jerk stole the licence plate off my car!Bottom line is, I'm happy now.  Lonely, but happy.  Trey and I are living with my parents so I can save some money.  They bicker from time to time and play the TV WAY too loud, but things are good overall.  I'm so blessed to have them in my life, and I'm grateful they let us come back.Trey has adjusted to his new (old) school very well.  A few kids remembered him from the last time he went to school here, and welcomed him back.  People say kids are resilient, and they're right.  Trey has been my rock through all of this.  He hugged me and held my hand through panic attacks those first few days, and made me laugh & smile with his wicked sense of humor.  I, in turn, became stronger during those rare moments when Trey broke down.  When he was little I told him "You and I are like glue...we stick together", and that's true to this very day.  He never once blamed me for the divorce even though my ex told him it was all my fault.As for me, well...I've come a long way.  I now know I'm pretty, smart, and funny.  My ex never told me any of these things, but other men have recently.  I don't think they're lying to me.  One of the first things I did when I moved out of my ex's house was cut and lighten my hair.  He always wanted my hair to be long and dark.  Personally, I think I'm more me when I'm blonde.  I quit my job a couple of months ago and went to a job that pays more.  Not much more, but it's still more.  I'm doing physical work again, and I've slimmed down a little.  I feel better about myself and it shows.  I haven't had an ear infection since I moved out, and that's probably due to the fact my dad discovered black mold in my ex's house.  That stuff's nasty and can do a lot of harm.  I haven't had a "freak out fit of rage" since living at Mom & Dad's, either.  I went to the doctor and got some health problems taken care of.  My ex wouldn't let me go to the doctor unless I was in extreme pain. 

I'm not afraid of being in a relationship or even getting married again.  I would love that opportunity, but I'm going to be a lot more cautious.  I know more warning signs and red flags now, and I won't be afraid to bail out if I think I need to.  I don't think my expectations are too low, but I do think they're too high for the kind of men I usually seem to attract.  All I require are love, affection, and the occasional compliment.  Gifts for no reason are nice, but not necessary.  I'm a simple and practical kind of girl, but I'm a hopeless romantic as well.  I would love to be in a relationship where I'm swept off my feet but I don't think it's going to happen anytime soon.                          

How Do I Live?

So, after a few months of him texting a woman he works with and me accusing him of having an affair, it came to a head on (Not) Good Friday when my husband told me he is filing for divorce.  Words really can't describe the emotions I have right now, barely two days later.  I'm hurt, scared, worried, stressed.  I feel unwanted, unneeded, unattractive.  I feel like a failure to my son, my family, my self.

I know I wasn't a very good wife.  I was paranoid and afraid most of the time, but I loved him with every ounce of my being.  I didn't always show it, but I did.

He made my heart race every time he kissed me.  He rubbed my feet.  He treated my son like Trey was his own.  He dropped kisses on top of my head, which made me feel safe and loved.  He worked long hours to make sure my child and I had everything we needed and often bought us gifts for no reason.

You ask what he did wrong?  He was emotionally detached.  He didn't like most of my friends.  He lied about wanting to have a child with me.  He texted a woman he worked with who he claimed was "just a friend", but never talked about her.  I didn't know she existed until I scrolled through the contacts in his phone looking for a mutual friend's number I had forgotten. He texted her...a lot.  More than he ever texted me, and I was his wife.  He and I worked different shifts, and he and his work friend had overlapping shifts.  I reentered the work force after almost two years, just so we would have some extra money and plan our delayed honeymoon.  He started working 7 days a week even though it wasn't required because he said we needed the money. With the exception of three quick pecks on the lips, he didn't kiss me.  He rarely hugged me.  He worked the night shift and I work the day shift, so sex was unheard of.  Even on the weekends I was home and the kiddo was gone, Ryan didn't express the desire to touch me.

So how do I live?  My world has been torn apart on a weekend I thought would help bring us closer together.  My son is distraught over the fact he has to change schools at the end of this school year, leaving his friends behind.  I'm distraught over the fact I'm 35 years old, soon to be a single mom, and moving in with my parents...again.  Trey and I probably won't have insurance from the time the divorce is final until November, when my employer has open enrollment.  I can't afford an attorney for the divorce (which Ryan is filing for sometime this week), and I'm dumber than hell when it comes to legal speak.  Trey and I have to live in Ryan's house for another 6 weeks, which is when Trey is done with school for the year.

How do I live?  The only way I can right now, which is one day at a time.  I have family and friends who are very supportive, but they can't comfort me the way I want to be comforted right now.  They can't hug and kiss the nightmares away, or lay in bed with me and plan our future.  I haven't been happy for a while, but I didn't think it would come to this.  I'm an emotional and physical wreck now that it has.

Oh No, He Didn't!

   The following conversation took place at approximately 4:30 a.m. on Friday, February 11, 2011.


Me:  So, honey...what are you going to buy for me for Valentine's Day?


Hubby:  Uh...I don't know.


Me:  I was just wondering.  I don't want you to feel obligated or anything like that.


Hubby:  Oh, I don't feel obligated.


What...the ...hell?!?


   I don't expect a gift, but I know he hasn't thought about buying me anything.  That pisses me off.  I bought him a gift.  Hopefully, it won't be like the XM Satellite Radio I bought for him for Christmas.  It's on a dresser in our bedroom, still in the box.  Ungrateful much, dear husband?
   I've been sick (again!) for the last couple of days, and didn't feel like going to Muncie for dinner tonight.  Hubby went and got Papa Murphy's pizza, which I like.  While eating, I asked him if we were going out for dinner Monday night.  He looked me in the eye and said "Nope.  This is Valentine's Day dinner".  Again, I say "what the hell?!?"
   Let me go on the record as saying I'm not much of a girly-girl.  I prefer jeans and t-shirts, love football and racing, and I hate romantic comedies.  However, I'm a hopeless romantic.  I want that all-encompassing kind of love you read about in books or see in movies.  An "I don't want to live without you" kind of love.  I want my husband to hold my hand when we're out in public and occasionally tell me I look nice.  I don't get that.  I once asked my husband "Would you ever be happy if I wasn't here?".  His response:  "I would only be content at first, but I'm sure I would be happy again eventually".  Wow.  Just...wow.
   Peter Cetera said it best when he sang "Everybody needs a little time away (I heard her say) from each other.  Even lovers need a holiday far away from each other".  Earlier this evening, I talked with my husband about taking a vacation this summer...BY MYSELF.  I think he agrees with those lyrics, because he has no problem with it.  He even told me he would help me finance my trip.  Where to go, where to go?  I'm thinking of going to a far away and magical place where the stars shine day and night.

The Big Deal About My Birthday

   This is my favorite time of year.  Football returns, the impending holiday season, Halloween, apple cider and kettle corn, all of the festivals going on, and...my birthday.  Yes, I still get excited for my birthday.
   When I was a child, I really didn't have birthday parties where I invited my friends.  I didn't have many friends back then.  Partially because I was serious and studious, and partially because I didn't fit in with children my own age.  I was around adults more, and I preferred them over my peers.  Adults weren't obnoxious and didn't fight over Barbies, swings, or the cute boy in the other classroom.  My Grandma Street baked me an angel food cake every year for my birthday, because that was my favorite.  One year she baked me a cheesecake because I asked her too.  One of the fondest memories I have of my childhood is watching Grandma get my cake out of the oven.  She baked it in an old cake pan that was probably from the 1960's, and she would set the hole in the middle of the cake pan on an old glass Sprite bottle.  I can still smell that cake if I close my eyes and concentrate.
   As I got into high school and gained more friends (and a boyfriend or two), my birthdays got better and better.  There was usually a marching band* competition on or near my birthday, so my band mates would sing "Happy Birthday" to me, buy my lunch or dinner, give me a card, etc.  My boyfriend would take me out for dinner and a movie and give me gifts.
   My kiddo was born a little over a month after my 22nd birthday, and I told everyone who would listen that I got a belated birthday gift that year.  This is where I'm going to get sappy and harsh.  If it wasn't for my kiddo, I might not have lived to have any more birthdays.  I was a "party animal" personified.  I drank a lot.  I smoked pot and occasionally dropped acid.  I didn't have a serious boyfriend for over 3 years, but I had quite a few friends with benefits.  I distanced myself from my family, who had no clue I was doing all of that stuff.  Of course, all of that stopped when I found out I was pregnant...which was 4 months after my 21st birthday.  Do I regret having a child when I was that young, and do I regret not being married when he was born?  NEVER!  I honestly believed my kiddo saved my life.  I was on a short and dark road to a horrible future, and he was the first street light on my path.
   That's why my birthday is a big deal to me.  I celebrate every one like it's going to be my last, because it just might be that.  This year, my husband and kiddo are taking me to my favorite restaurant for dinner, then I'm going out with friends.  That's the day before my birthday, but that's beside the point.  I usually celebrate my birthday for an entire week prior to the actual day.  On my actual birthday this year, my friends and I are going to eat Mexican food and drink margaritas, then we're going to a Boyz II Men concert.  Yes, you read that right.  We're going to relive high school for a few hours.  After the concert we're going to see a few of our mutual friends play in their respective bands.  Sunday, I'm going to visit my parents**, brother & hopefully soon-to-be sister in law, and a few other friends where they go camping.  I'm thinking about buying a camper there, so I can see my family a little more often that I already do.
   To quote Jimmy Buffett, "I'm growing older but not up.  My metabolic rate is pleasantly stuck.  Let the winds of change blow over my head.  I'd rather die while I'm living than live while I'm dead".  That's how I feel about aging, and I love it.

* Yes, I was in marching band.  I played the flute and piccolo.  No, I don't have any "This one time at band camp..." stories.  I was a good girl back then.
** If I don't see my parents on my birthday, I call them and tell them thanks for putting up with me for all of these years.

Hopeless, Incurable Romantic

 I am one.  I love when a man opens a door for me, pulls my chair out, puts his hand on the small of my back to guide me through a door, etc.  I'm obsessed with the idea of a piano in a candlelit room, and a man playing and singing the song "Hallelujah" for me.  Preferably the Jeff Buckley or Rufus Wainwright version.  I'm totally jealous of some fictional characters and their romantic relationships, because my relationship with my husband is totally lacking in the romance department.
   I don't ask for much in life.  I don't ask for diamonds or expensive clothing.  My husband and I have been married for almost two years and we have yet to go on a vacation.  All I ask is to be shown that I'm appreciated, wanted, and loved.  Yes, I've told my husband this...and it started a fight.  I appreciate the fact that my husband didn't push me to get a job when I wasn't ready to go back to work.  I show my husband every single day that I want him, even if it's only with a kiss on the top of the head or a butt smack as he walks by.  I tell him I love him more times a day than is probably healthy.  Do I get the same in return?  Not really.  He might give me three quick pecks on my lips, which means "I love you".  He tells me he loves me multiple times a day.  Do I think he wants me physically?  Not lately, and I have no reason why.  I know I've put on a few (15) pounds, but my husband was always telling me I needed to gain a few pounds anyway.
   I'm an insecure person.  Always have been, and probably always will be.  I need positive reinforcement in relationships, and I'm not getting it.  I'm not high maintenance by any means, but I like being spoiled and cherished once in a while.  I like being told I look nice.  I want to be swept off my feet and whisked away to a place that isn't part of my normal routine.  A weekend trip for just the two of us would be nice.  Then again, a solo vacation would be great, too.
   My husband and I have been together for 2.5 years, and I think I'm experiencing relationship burnout.  I'm tired of the same old things.  I want more.  A couple of my very attractive and very single guy friends have invited me to visit them or take a trip with them.  I would be lying if I said there was no temptation.  If I were in a happier situation the temptation wouldn't be as strong, but it would still be there.  Guys, where the Hell were you BEFORE I got married?!?  I'm starting to wonder if I'm one of these women who can't be happy no matter what situation they're in.  When I got married, I thought my husband would be the guy who brought home flowers for no reason.  The guy who told me everything I ever wanted to hear.  The guy who put me on a pedestal.  Well, he isn't...and I don't like it one bit.
   I know every couple goes through rough patches, but we go through smooth patches.  I'm neurotic and needy, he's a man of few words and emotionally frigid.  Before we got married, we discussed having kids.  We talked about names we liked and hated, and he told me where he would want to put a baby bed.  Now he's totally against having a child, and it breaks my heart.  I've always wanted to have at least one more.  Had I known the truth about how my husband really felt, it would have possibly been a deal breaker.
   Do I love my husband?  Yes, I do.  Very much.  Am I in love with my husband?  Six months ago, the answer would have been a resounding "YES!".  Today, the answer is "Eh".  Sad, right?  Am I going to file for divorce?  Not right now.  I've invested too much to give up so easily.  And it's got to get better, because it can't get much worse.

I Can Never Come Up With A Creative And/Or Funny Title!

My friend Kevin has declared my blog a "Kurt Cobain Free Zone!". That's cool, because I've always been a Pearl Jam kind of girl. Kev, you want to make me a badge or something wicked cool like that to post on here? Thanks in advance.

Life is good. I have a job, and I work 5 8-hour days per week. My husband has a job, and he works a totally effed up schedule. Work Monday & Tuesday, off Wednesday & Thursday, work Friday & Saturday & Sunday. Off Monday & Tuesday, work Wednesday & Thursday, off Friday & Saturday & Sunday. Repeat first week, repeat second week. Oh, and he works 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. He took a new position at work. He's not a supervisor anymore, he's a maintenance guy. Actually, he works at his company's wastewater treatment plant. He says he works on other things, too, but all I hear him talk about is watching water go roundy-roundy. I call him a "turd herder", which he isn't fond of. He's happier without the stress of a supervisory position, so I'm happier. We don't get to see each other for very long throughout the week, but the money is still coming in.

Speaking of work...I have a coworker who makes driveway gravel look intelligent. Here's an example:

Coworker: My birthday is tomorrow, and I was born in 1967. How old will I be?

Me: Um, you're kidding...right?!?

CW: No, I'm not kidding. I'm really bad at math.

Seriously?!? My coworker has 5 kids because she's allergic to latex, and her pregnant daughter is in jail because she was caught with marijuana and Oxycontin. White Trash Expo time, folks! Thank God more of my coworkers aren't like her, because I would have either quit or gone insane by now.

I'm a kinda sad panda, because I should have plane tickets to California for this weekend. I really wanted to go, but the hubby's weird work schedule prevented it. I was told I need to get my ass back out there, and soon. I'm working on it, but it won't be until next year at the earliest. Hubby and I didn't go on a honeymoon after we got married, and we're kind of planning a trip tentatively set for next summer. Seattle, Washington D.C., and New Orleans are on the short list. If I get my way (and I usually do), we will fly to Los Angeles so I can hang out with my friends for a day/night, then we will take the Amtrak Coast Starlight from L.A. to Seattle. I'm seriously salivating over this. Like, totally drooling. While in Washington, I want to go to Mount St. Helens and the Olympic National Forest. And if I'm that damn close to Forks, I might as well go there, too.

I really don't have anything to bitch about, but I have no idea what I'm dressing up as for Halloween. I love Halloween, and I love dressing in costume. I hate choosing a costume. I might say "screw it" and go as The Dude from "The Big Lebowski". Because, you know, The Dude abides. And we both like bowling.

What A Weekend!

I went camping this past weekend. My parents and brother have trailers at a campground a little over an hour from where I live, and I usually go there for long weekends. It's always great fun, but this weekend was, um, strange.

Ryan and I packed up our respective vehicles on Saturday morning, and away we went. I was screaming that I was hungry (as usual), so we stopped and ate breakfast at a McDonald's I eat at quite often. By the time we stopped at my parents' house 10 miles away, the two Sausage Biscuits and 1.5 hash browns I ate were threatening to come up. We stopped at a drug store to get me some Pepto Bismol, which I chugged straight from the bottle in the CVS parking lot.

Back on the road again, and we're running late (as usual). I told my Mom we would be there around 9:30, and it's almost 9:00. We're still a good hour from where we're going....and I get us lost. I can read a map very well, but I didn't need one. My parents have been camping at the same campground since 1995, and I've been there about a hundred times. I turned on Highway 26 instead of Highway 22, and I realized my mistake. I called Ryan, and we pulled over in the parking lot of a little country church to consult Google Maps on my iPhone. I gave my phone to Ryan (gasp!) and told him to be our navigator. We drove for a few minutes, and he went straight on Highway 22 instead of turning left. I couldn't call him to tell him his mistake, because HE HAD MY PHONE! So I followed him blindly for what seemed like hours until we finally got to the campground. Then the real fun began.

Ryan and I knew my ex-boyfriend (my son's dad) was going to be there. It was Trey's weekend with his dad, and my ex decided to take off and go fishing. Trey hates fishing, so my ex left him with us. I love my kiddo, but Trey was looking forward to spending the weekend with his dad. I was pissed about it, but kept it to myself so I didn't ruin anybody's weekend. Trey gave his dad his just desserts, however, when he decided to stay at the campground with me Saturday night instead of going home with his dad. Maybe my kiddo does have a mean bone in his body, after all. If so, I hope I'm never on the receiving end of it. Here's a snippet of the conversation:

Trey: "I'm staying here tonight"

My ex: "You don't want to go home with me?"

Trey: "Nope. You didn't want to hang out with me today, so I don't want to hang out with you tonight and tomorrow"

I thought it was hilarious. Not because Trey was being mean to my ex, but because Trey's reasoning and logic were spot on.

Saturday night was good. We ate, drank, took wild rides on the golf cart, made fun of the crappy sounding band the campground owner hired for the night, drank some more, went for midnight walks in a semi-intoxicated state, etc.

Mom, Dad, and I were supposed to go out on the boat Sunday morning. Ryan, Trey, and I went into Peru, IN on Saturday afternoon and bought me a new fishing pole and fishing licence for the occasion. I was ready. The three of us packed a cooler, bought bait and snacks, loaded the boat on the trailer, and headed to the boat dock. We had the boat in the water, and then...the boat wouldn't start. The damn thing wouldn't even turn over. Dad was pissed, Mom was pissed, I was somewhat indifferent. I'm not normally a fan of fishing. I won't bait my own hook, I won't take fish off the hook, and I get bored easily.

We went back to the campground, and the men decided they were going to get the boat running again. One hour and a few spark plugs later, we were headed back to the boat dock. This time, the boat started perfectly.

We fished for hours and hours. Like, almost 5 hours. Even I caught a fish big enough to keep. I got pissed because a huge fish broke my line. I hooked it, and it took off. I know it was a huge fish, because I couldn't even reel in my line because the fish was swimming so fast in the other direction. Lost my bobber, hook, everything. We recovered the bobber as we were leaving for the day. Recovering bobbers is a big deal, because they cost a couple of dollars apiece.

I also caught a nasty sunburn. I've been super pale all my life. My great-grandmother was a full blooded Cherokee Indian, but you can't tell by looking at me. I think the genetic thing that allows a person's skin to tan and not burn stopped with my Dad. I applied SPF 50 sunscreen a couple of times throughout the day, but it didn't help. I need SPF Vampire or something like that. Driving home from Peru to Gaston was fun, because I was so burnt my legs were swollen. Yeah, it was that bad. Ryan (who is also part Native American and doesn't burn) has been super helpful the past couple of days, but I wish he would stop calling me his "crispy critter". I'm fairly certain I have a 2nd degree sunburn on my back and upper legs, possibly 3rd degree sunburn. I could barely walk yesterday. My legs were still swollen, and standing in one place for too long made them feel like they were going to explode. My back is still killing me. I wore my swimsuit with a tank top over it, and I have weird burn lines. My bra straps are digging in and killing me. I can walk a little better today, but not after I've been sitting for a while.

Will I go back to the campground this summer? Heck yeah! I have lots of fun up there. We always have a big pitch-in dinner on holiday weekends, and I have many wonderful friends who camp there. Will I go back on the boat this summer? Probably, but only if I can find the SPF Vampire sunscreen before July 4th weekend.

Random Rants And Ravings

A lot of stuff is pissing me off right now. Here's the short list.

1. The BP oil spill. This pisses me off because it is hurting the environment, and I feel sorry for the people of Louisiana. Haven't they been through enough already with Hurricane Katrina?!? I know Katrina was an unstoppable act of nature, and the oil spill isn't. I also know BP is more upset about the oil and money they're losing then they are the environment. I don't blame them for that, because I would be pissed if a lot of my money washed up on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. I just think they're being callous and cold about it. I'm a supporter of "Drill Baby Drill", but not when it goes horribly awry. I say everybody heads to that busted oil rig armed with kitty litter and a Shamwow, and use Mighty Putty to plug the damn hole. Right now, I'm trying to figure out a way to convince my husband to let me go to Louisiana so I can give the affected animals a bath in Dawn dishwashing soap. Softens hands and cuts grease on dishes as well as critters.

2. The school bus driver from Hell. Here in Indiana, a big fuss is being made about this story. Was the student wrong? Hell no. Was the bus driver wrong? Hell yes. Number one, you don't call a middle school aged kid a "bigot" for not sharing your political and religious beliefs. Number two, every person in this country is entitled to their opinion.

I don't care what a person's beliefs are, but do not tell me my beliefs are wrong and I can't state my opinion. As you can guess, I'm a very opinionated person. My husband refuses to discuss politics, religion, or pretty much any other issue with me, because it turns into a huge argument. He's a liberal, I'm middle of the road and often lean to the right. My husband isn't a religious person, but he was made to go to church until he was a teen. My parents let me go to church if I wanted to, but also told me I didn't need to go to church to talk to God. To this day, I'm borderline agnostic. My husband doesn't believe in ghosts or ET's, but I'm going to believe until it's scientifically proven those don't exist. Why is this a problem? Both my husband and I are stubborn, opinionated people who are good at arguing. Well, I'm good at arguing as long as I'm sober.

I know it's short, but I'm done for now. Not really, but I'm actually going to post a link to my blog on Twitter. This will be the first time I've done anything like this, and I'm kinda scared. I love to write (but I don't think I'm good at it), and bad criticism brings me to tears. Only a few people have ever read my blog. My therapist suggested blogging a few years ago when I was going through a rough patch. She thought it might be therapeutic, and it has been. A lot of it is very personal, and some of it is random BS. I was trying to blog 2 or 3 times a week, not once every 2 or 3 years. I'm getting into it again. Not because I'm at a bad place in life, but because it helps keep me from going back to that bad place.

That being said, I need a frickin' vacation. I'm going camping this weekend, and probably going out on a boat on Sunday. If I tweet "I'm on a boat", you'll know why.

Good Days and Bad Days;, or I'm A K-Mart Reject But My Son Still Likes To Hug Me

I'm still job hunting, and it sucks. I don't really need a job, but I want one. I want more purpose and meaning in my life, and extra money never hurts. Honestly, I want the extra money so I can spoil my kid and buy myself some clothes that fit. Mine have shrunk while hanging in the closet, and it's depressing. I also want to be able to surprise my husband with a video game once in a while. I mean, it's not really a surprise if I tell him to give me some money so I can buy him a video game. Anyway...

I applied for a position at my local K-Mart. I'm not a huge fan of the place, but the employee discount would be awesome - especially around Trey's birthday and Christmas. I applied to be a cashier/customer service person. I know how to make change correctly, and have been doing it since I was in elementary school. I also have retail sales experience as well as experience in an office setting. I worked in the Mayor's office for a summer job in high school, and I worked at J.C. Penney's for a year after I graduated high school.

I spent almost an hour looking up phone numbers and addresses for my previous places of employment, filling out the online app, and the following questionnaire. Hell, I was even nice enough to take the post-application survey for them. I got an e-mail from Sears Holdings, LLC (they bought K-Mart) not 20 minutes later, telling me they appreciated me taking the time to apply to the job, but they were seeking more qualified candidates. What the *insert expletive here*?!? I know high school kids who were employed at K-Mart! Come on! Anyway, it was a bummer, and I was depressed for a few hours because I'm now a K-Mart reject.

Last night, my son posted something on Facebook that made my heart swell with pride. Our Indianapolis Fox affiliate, Fox 59, is feeding the animals at the Indianapolis Humane Society. For every 5000 fans they get, Fox 59 will buy food for ALL animals at the shelter for one month. 15,000 new fans = 3 months of food, etc. My son is 12 (almost 13) years old, and he's such a softie when it comes to animal. This is what he posted on Fox 59's FB wall last night: "Yey, I helped the animals but that's the right thing to do Isnt it?" Please ignore all spelling and grammatical errors. He's 12, and it was right before he had to go to bed. I, of course, posted a status about how proud I was of Trey, and told people to go to Fox 59's wall to read the post. I got some great positive feedback, which made me feel like I'm doing a good job as a parent.

Earlier this evening, I told Trey I saw his post and I was proud of him. I told him I didn't want to risk embarrassing him by posting "Mom notes" on his FB wall. He told me it wouldn't have embarrassed him, then told me a story about what happened at lunch at his school today. One of his friends asked Trey if he let his mom hug him. Trey said "Of course I let my mom hug me. Sometimes I need a hug, and hugging my mom makes me feel better." Then Trey hugged me in the kitchen while I was cooking dinner. I damn near cried.

I don't feel like a K-Mart reject anymore, but I do feel pretty damn good about my parenting skills.

10 Random Things

This made the rounds on Facebook last year, and I dutifully contributed when I was tagged. However, I censored myself a little. Okay, a lot. My mom is my Facebook friend, and I don't think she needs to know all my secrets. And it probably would have embarrassed the hell out of her, anyway. I think this one will probably be rated PG-13. This will be a looong post, because I'm extremely wordy. I type how I talk - lots of commas and ellipses. That was a warning.

1. I love Ramen noodles, but not the way you think. Right now, I'm eating uncooked Ramen noodles right out of the package. I sometimes crunch them up and sprinkle them over salad. I use the flavoring packet in other recipes. My pantry currently contains 2 chicken, 4 beef, and 4 chicken picante flavoring packets. Chicken picante is my new favorite flavor.

2. I have never been stung by a bee, hornet, wasp, etc...so I don't know if I'm allergic to bee stings. I don't want to be stung, because I've heard it hurts like hell. Therefore, I do the "get away from me, damn insect" dance when one gets too close.

3. In November, my cousin told me she thought I was an alcoholic and my husband needed to send me to rehab. What the what? She said every time she went out with me and my group of friends, I always got so drunk I threw up and had to be taken home early. I didn't have the heart to tell her I don't really care for her because she gave custody of her only child to his paternal grandparents, and she's made no attempt to contact the g'parents or the kid in years. Instead, I isolated myself from my friends and didn't drink alcohol for almost 3 months. I didn't even drink at home, which was something I rarely did anyway because my son doesn't like when people drink around him. One day, I said "Screw this. I know I'm not an alcoholic and I miss my friends. Screw what my cuz thinks." Oddly enough, this was also the 15th day in a row my cousin had posted a FB status about being drunk or drinking alcohol.

4. I've been told I'm too nice. I'm not necessarily a doormat, but I tend to go with the flow and don't state my own opinion often enough. My husband and best friend tell me I'm nice to a fault, and another friend told me "That's another reason why we love ya". I've been incredibly snarky for the last week, and my husband asked me to stop being a smart ass and blamed my attitude on an impending visit from "Aunt Flow". I can't win for losing.

5. I was considered a nerd, geek, etc when I was in high school. I was near the top of my class grades wise, I kept the same boyfriend for almost 3 years, I was in the marching band, and I was into anime and role playing. You know, Dungeons and Dragons? Man, I loved it. It required creativity, and I was all about that sort of thing. My boyfriend at the time introduced me to it. He was an abusive prick, but I'm thankful. If he wouldn't have introduced me to anime, I wouldn't have had a reason to type "Robotech" into Google. I wouldn't have found Robotech.com, I wouldn't have met cool people, and I wouldn't have flown to Los Angeles to hang out with them. I saw the ex-boyfriend a couple of years ago and thanked him for all that. I was drunk, and I hadn't seen him since 1995. I still hang out with his sister and his ex wife.

6. I love the Lego video games. Yeah, I'm still a geek. I own every Lego video game except Lego Rock Band, and I'll have it as soon as I buy a guitar controller for my Xbox 360 or Wii. I've had Lego Indiana Jones 2 for over a month and I still haven't beat it yet, even with cheat codes. Dammit.

7. I'm kind of an anti-girl. I don't care for "chick flicks". Pink and purple are my two least favorite colors. I throw a fit when I see a woman wearing a pink football jersey, because I know of no NFL teams who wear pink jerseys on the field all season. I have a perfectly good wedding dress hanging in my closet. It's white with a long train and adorned with pearls, sequins, and beading in a star pattern. I love stars, and I thought this was the wedding dress for me. I planned on wearing sparkly Chuck Taylors with the dress, and I didn't give a damn what anybody thought about it. I had planned 2 weddings with an ex-boyfriend, and it stressed me out so bad I had to go on Zoloft and Ativan. Neither wedding happened, of course. When Ryan and I got married, I wore a black Chinese dress I bought at a Chinese restaurant for $25. We got married at the county courthouse, and all of the ladies there oohed and aahed over my dress. Maybe I can wear the expensive white dress if Ryan and I ever decide to renew our wedding vows.

8. I want to have a baby, but my husband doesn't. This is the cause of many fights at Casa Luzadder. Ryan and I were together for 6 months before we got married, and we talked about many baby-related subjects. What we would name a kid, where the baby's room would be, etc. That being said, I didn't think he was opposed to the idea. My son Trey is 12 years old, almost 13. I know many women who had a child early in adulthood, then had another child later in life. One of my friends has a 17 year old and a 6 year old, for example. My husband is totally anti-baby. Had I known this before we got married, it might have been a deal breaker. I now refuse to go to his family gatherings because there are lots of babies present. My 43 year old sister in law is pregnant, and I'm totally jealous. I hate walking near the baby aisle in a store, and will avoid it whenever possible. I do okay around older kids, like my 6 year old niece, but I get severely depressed when I'm around a baby for more than a few minutes.

9. I'm addicted to Twitter. I post weird and random stuff, and I could care less. I follow many celebrities, but I never reply or otherwise interact with them. I think it's kind of stalkerish to hound a celebrity, and I don't want the rejection if they don't reply to me. I mentioned something about Twitter when I was talking to my mom the other day, and she asked me whose "twats" were the most interesting. After cleaning up the mess I made when Diet Mountain Dew spewed out my nose from laughing so hard, I explained that posts were called "tweets". My mom is allergic to technology, and is almost always good for a laugh. Mom is my best friend, and I love her to pieces. Speaking of Twitter, I have received 38 tweets since I started typing this.

10. I wanted to go to college to be a writer, specifically a sports journalist. I wanted to write for Sports Illustrated, but I would have settled for writing about the local high school basketball team. I was accepted to a few schools, but I didn't go. At all. I went to work instead, and Trey was born a few years later. I'm 34 years old and I didn't go to college. No wonder I can't find a job. I have no idea why a person needs a 4-year degree to work in a call center, but they do around here. My husband keeps telling me "It doesn't matter if you have a degree or not. Apply anyway." Okay, then why does a potential employer put that in a job description or education requirements if it's not needed? If I apply to that job, and it comes down to me or a person with a degree, they're probably going to pick the person with the degree. Bummer.

After reading this, I've decided I have an unhealthy fear of rejection. And I now have 47 unread tweets.

The Thing On My Face

When I was in high school, I had nearly flawless skin. Like, maybe 3 or 4 noticeable pimples in four years. After Trey was born, my hormones went crazy and I started getting acne. Not just small pimples, but giant red things as well. I didn't get the giant red things very often, maybe two or three times a year, and I took care of them at home.

A pimple sprung up a couple of months ago, and I didn't think much of it. "Aunt Flow" was due to visit a couple of days later, so I chalked it up to that and went about my business. 6 weeks later, I woke up one morning and the thing was freakin' huge. Like, the size of a marble. I didn't try to pop it or anything like that, so I just slathered it with salicyclic acid zit remover stuff in a tube I had here at the house. It didn't go away, but it didn't get bigger either.

My parents started riding my ass to get it looked at by a doctor, claiming it could be an ingrown hair, a boil, or something even ickier. I blew them off at first, but...this past Saturday, they rode my ass and dug in with spurs. I thought about how cancer runs in my family - my dad's sister, my mom's dad, and a few not so closely related relatives - and I got scared. I told them I would call my doc on Monday. Last night, I told my husband I wanted to go to the emergency care facility (aka Doc in a Box) to get the big nasty looked at. I asked him to drive me there this morning, and he agreed.

Now, I'm a wuss when it comes to pain. I gave birth without any pain killing drugs, and I got my belly button pierced while stone-cold sober, but I'm really a wuss. I hate needles. They terrify me to the point of throwing up. I freaked out when I had to have cortisone shots IN MY NOSE a few years ago, so I haven't been to the ENT doctor since.

The doctor who treated me this morning was the same one who diagnosed Trey with the pig flu back in October, and he's a nice guy. The dude is probably around my dad's age (early 60's) and very grandfatherly. He told me I had an abscessed cyst on my face, took Ryan and I into a treatment room, and began to prepare the necessary tools. I thought I would be nice and warn Dr. Papaw of my aversion to needles. While I was doing so, he stuck the needle filled with a local anesthesia into my face. Cool trick, Dr. Papaw!

I won't go into gory detail about the procedure, but it was gross. Let's just say it felt like a dam bursting when he opened up The Big Nasty. 20 minutes later, Ryan and I were on our way to get some breakfast. Breakfast was hilarious. I couldn't open my mouth very far without breaking the incision open, and kept dropping my biscuits and gravy on my Notre Dame hoodie. I was starving, and I had to take small bites and eat slowly. That pissed me off.

The local anesthetic wore off a couple of hours ago, and the incision doesn't feel so good right now. I'm eating Tylenol like it's going out of style and wearing a huge gauze & tape bandage on the lower right hand side of my face. Trey is gonna freak when he gets home from school in an hour, and probably not let me out of his sight for the rest of the evening.

I'll get to the point now: If there's something wrong, no matter how insignificant it seems, GET YOURSELF TO A DOCTOR! My big nasty zit could have turned into something much, much worse if I put it off longer than I did. By something worse, I mean it could have ruptured on it's own (which would have been excruciating pain), got bigger, or it could have given me blood poisoning. I know not many (if any) people read my blog, but I like the ones who do. Please stick around a little longer, m'kay?

Ugh!

I'm totally addicted to Facebook. I know it, and I could care less. I've reconnected with many people in the last year and a half I've been a member of the site and met a few new people, which is awesome. I play some of the games...okay, I can't lie about this one. I'm hooked on FarmVille. Anyway...I'm kind of pissed off right now. A few of my FB friends think it's okay to overshare. You know, "TMI" and all that. It's nice to know what's going on in their lives, and we get into great conversations. However, some things are too much. One of my FB friends was in an accident today. She rear-ended a school bus, and texted this in her status just a few minutes later. This is SO unsafe, and it makes me wonder if she was texting when she hit the school bus in the first place. Now she's posting pics of her 7 year old daughter sitting in a bed in the ER. The kid was with her mom when the accident, and now has a concussion because of it. Another one of my FB friends' son got a really bad burn over the summer when he stepped in hot coals from a campfire. I sent my well wishes, this woman sent pics of her son's mangled foot. Am I the only person who sees anything wrong with this? If my son was injured, I would be comforting him - not taking pics and posting them to my FB page. I didn't take a pic of him when he had H1N1 and post it, because the kid was really sick. I did take a pic of my nasty burn on my arm and post it, because my friends know how clumsy I am. Not to mention, some of them asked to see a pic of it. So, yet again, I am "cleaning house" on FB. Going through my "friends" and deleting some of them is sometimes hard on me, but I've got to learn to get a thicker skin.

Okay, Whatever

So I know it's been like 3 years since I last posted anything on here. Deal with it. I've had a lot of life changes since then.

In June of 2008, I broke it off with "Mr. Wonderful". Almost 10 years together with no wedding plans. Screw that. I was 32 years old at the time, and I wanted more out of life. Not to mention somebody from my past found me on MySpace. That somebody was Ryan, who I had lived with and was dumped by 5 years earlier. He ended our relationship a few days before Christmas 2003, leaving me heartbroken. He said he had changed, so I visited him at home one sunny Tuesday afternoon. He HAD changed, and it was for the better. Ryan had been in a horrible relationship for 3 years, until he broke up with the girl because she cheated on him. He wanted me and Trey to come back to him, and I was very wary at first. He told me lots of pretty things and played on my sentimental side, but he was totally sincere. We spent a few afternoons and evenings together, and I decided I couldn't live without him any longer than I already had. Trey and I moved in with Ryan in June of 2008. Ryan proposed in July, and we were married on December 29.

I don't have a job or a car, but I still love my life. I like being a stay at home mom, but the pay sucks. Ryan and I have had quite a few ups and downs over the past 12 months, but we've managed to make it through. We're so in love with each other that it isn't funny. My heart races when he kisses me. He's a great stepdad to Trey.

In August 2007, I went to the Brickyard 400 NASCAR race in Indianapolis. The race was incredibly loud, even with ear protection. I went to the E.R. a couple of days later because I thought I had a busted eardrum. The E.R. doc referred me to an ENT (ear, nose, throat) doc. The doc found that I had a deviated septum and major hearing loss in both ears. Basically, I have only 40% hearing between both ears.

In March of 2008, I went to my family doc. Work was killing me - literally. I worked with some very verbally abusive and overall mean people, including my immediate supervisor. When I saw my doc, my blood pressure was sky-high and I started bawling in her office because I was so stressed out. The doc gave me scripts for Ativan and Zoloft, and told me it would be in my best interest to quit my job. After routine blood work a month later, the doc discovered I have a condition called osteopenia. Basically a precursor to osteoporosis. My bones aren't absorbing calcium like they should, so they're very weak and brittle. No Rollerblading for me! Actually, a fall could royally screw my world up. I was also diagnosed with an underactive thyroid, which explains the fact that I can eat like a horse and never gain a pound.

That's pretty much my life in a nutshell since the last time I posted. I'll try to keep it updated now that I have more free time.

Doin' The "Dead Pool" Thing

My friend known as The Center of The Universe tried to get me to do the Dead Pool thing at the end of 2005. For those of you that don't know what the Dead Pool is, let me explain. Every year in December, those participating make a list of 10 people they think will die in the following calendar year. Plain and simple...right? WRONG! There is a lot of research to be done. For example, I told The Center of The Universe to put Johnny Carson on his list for 2006. I had no idea that poor Johnny had died years ago, until The Center told me. Very nicely, I might add. Anyway, my little crew at work is doing the Dead Pool this year. The winner gets bragging rights for a whole year. Not much to the average person, but it means a lot in my workplace. Here's my list for 2007:

Fidel Castro: He was sick for a long time in 2006, and questions are being raised about his current state of health.

Annette Funicello: She's had Multiple Sclerosis for many years, and she just keeps getting worse.

Elizabeth Taylor: I haven't really heard much about her lately, but I know about her past battles with prescription drug addiction.

James Coburn: Oh my gawd! I guess I didn't do enough research on him, because I just found out he died in 2002! Note to self: Confer with the official rulesmaster (The Center of The Universe) about this on Monday!

Harry Morgan: Colonel Potter from M*A*S*H was born in 1915. That makes him really old.

Art Linkletter: I know age is supposed to be a number, but he's really old as well.

Imelda Marcos: She of 10,000 pairs of shoes is getting up there in age. And I'm surprised she hasn't already died of a heart attack due to all of the stress she experienced in the 1980's - thanks to her husband Ferdinand. Maybe that's why I've never been married...

Judge Joseph Wapner: Yeah, the People's Court judge is still kicking.

Dom DeLuise: Burt Reynold's movie buddy from the 70's is still around. I wonder if he ever lost any of that weight...

Brian Wilson: I absolutely LOVE The Beach Boys, but Brian isn't looking very good or performing very well these days.

Keep in mind that I don't wish death on any of these people - I think they're all great and have made wonderful contributions in their various fields. I just don't think they'll make it past December 31, 2007! Now to e-mail The Center of The Universe about the James Coburn thing. I'm sure it will turn into a fiasco...

Just Another Day...

In what I've come to know as life. Today, my fiance and I got some unsettling news about his health. He's been going through all sorts of tests for the last few weeks, but still no real diagnosis.

His doctor has decided to send him to a neurologist and a cardiologist, because the doc still isn't sure what's wrong. The cardiologist, because my fiance is still having chest pains, numbness and tingling in his left arm, and headaches behind his left eye. A stroke has pretty much been ruled out at this point. He has to go to a neurologist because of the same symptoms. Sound weird? Yeah, it did to me too! Until the doc said that his problems are symptoms of Multiple Sclerosis...

I took that one pretty hard, but I'm still wondering why. I love my fiance, but I haven't been IN LOVE with him for a long time. I've physically left him and ended our relationship once already, but I've also done that in my mind a thousand times since I came back. We rarely fight (and it's very loud when we do), and he's pretty good with my son (most of the time). He still subscribes to the "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free" theory, and I know we'll probably never get married...

So why do I hang on? I think it's more of a sense of duty. If I left him, and something happened to him after that (stroke, MS, heart attack, etc...), I wouldn't be able to live with myself. I would feel personally responsible and guilty. Not to mention my son thinks the world of my fiance. So will I stay with him and help him in his time of need? Yeah. Like I said earlier, I do love him. But sometimes, these song lyrics from Bonnie Raitt run through my head:

Baby, sometimes love just ain't enough

Football Season...Again

"Football widow" again this year *sigh*, so that means I have time to blog! I feel a little differently about being a high-school football widow this year...

My fiance is stressed. I mean, really stressed. So stressed, in fact, that he's having mini-strokes in his brain because his blood pressure is waaaaaaay too high. It's high enough to require him to be on medication to lower his blood pressure, and go through a stress test on a treadmill - at age 32!

He got fired from his job about a year and a half ago, and he's been stressing ever since. Money isn't growing on trees around here, and that's one thing that he's really touchy about. He wouldn't ask me to help with household bills, even though my son, the fiance, and I live together. He got mad at me when I opened mail such as the phone bill, electric bill, etc. I know he wants to take care of my son and I, but he's going about it the wrong way!

I felt almost useless at first, then I got mad about the situation. To me, he was acting like a Sugar Daddy (not the yummy candy!) - he would pay the bills, and I was here for whatever entertainment he desired. I HATED feeling that way! He didn't talk about getting married anymore, and I just felt like I was a toy or a trophy. I don't look like a trophy, so I didn't like being treated that way!

Things are slowly working themselves out. He's now asking for help with household bills, and I feel more like a valued member of society and less like a damn freeloader. But is all of this too late? The situation has greatly affected his health - he can't mow the lawn, walk the dog, or do too much around the house anymore. Doing dishes and laundry wears him out to the point of exhaustion, and he has to lay down. I really don't mind doing things around the house. I would quit my job and be a stay at home mom/girlfriend/fiancee/wife/whatever if I could.

I really don't like the fact that I have to stay at home most of the time and not go out with my friends, because I can't trust him alone with my son. My son knows what to do if my fiance has another stroke, but I don't want my son to be scared like that. So, I guess I'll just stay at home and blog. :-P

So why don't I mind being a football widow this year as opposed to last year? This is a chance for my ill fiance to hang out with his best friend and RELAX...one thing he really needs to do. I didn't think I was that bad of a person to stress somebody out to the point of having a stroke, but I guess I am.

Busy, Busy, Busy

Once I found out I didn't have cancer, I decided to help my fiance coach my son's Little League team. I got the uniform shirt with my name on the back and all that cool stuff! My job was to do the scorebook for our team and keep the kids in line in the dugout. Now imagine 13 excited kids all between the ages of 7 and 12. I took many, many Excedrin over the last couple of months...
"My" kids did an awesome job this season, even though they won only 5 games. That was after the 3-in-a-row winning streak towards the end of the season. Our city tourney was last Monday, and our game went into extra innings. We were playing a team that had thoroughly walloped us in our previous meetings. We lost, but it was because of a bad call by the umpire. He even admitted it was bad, after the game was over, of course! Grrrrrrr...
Even though I did some complaining about the time baseball was taking up (5 games in one week is a little too much!), I wouldn't have traded that time for anything else right now. My kids yell "Coach Ann!" when they see me around town, and they tell me they'll miss me next season. Most of these kids are close to my son's age, and I've been reminding them of that. I'll be seeing them for a few more years. We're going to have a cookout for the team and their parents, just to show all of them that we really appreciated all the effort everybody put forth this season. My son didn't make All-Stars this season, but we'll still go to some of the tournaments just to suppport the kids who played for us. But we won't go to 5 games a week, that's for sure!

Scary Stuff

Last Friday, I went for my first mammogram - ever. I've heard many horror stories about this medical procedure, but I needed to have it done because my OB/GYN found a lump in my breast. Probably not a big deal, he said, but it needed to be checked out. And I'm now 30 and supposed to have this done every three years, so this seemed like a good time to do it.

After being reassured by many friends and my mom, off I went to the hospital - alone. If I knew the following events were going to unfold, I would have enlisted an army to go with me.

The mammogram itself was not a big deal - two little squeezes on each breast and it was over. Then I sat in a tiny little room with crappy outdated magazines waiting for the results. A nurse came in AN HOUR LATER and informed me that I needed to have an ultrasound on my breast because the doctor didn't like the looks of the lump. I was rushed to the ultrasound room and saw said lump for the first time. It looked a little like a set of upside - down deformed Mickey Mouse ears. Due to the fact that I know so many people that have had tumors, I knew that a misshapen lump wasn't a good sign.

A short time later, a radiologist, ultrasound tech, and MY doctor entered the room. None of the liked the way the lump looked, so they ordered a biopsy. That's what I had done to me yesterday, and that's the scariest stuff of all.

I won't go into gory details, but you'll get the general idea if you've ever watched somebody getting liposuction on the Discovery Channel or that "Dr. 90210" show on E! network. My mom went with me, and totally freaked out when a 30 minute procedure turned into an hour and a half torture session.

I've been doing a lot of soul searching since last Friday. I've started getting all my legal things in order, just in case the tissue samples come back malignant. I got most of my hair cut off - that way I won't feel so sad when it falls out if I have to have chemo. I've checked into my life insurance situation at work, so maybe my son can still go to Notre Dame if I have cancer and it gets the best of me. I'm totally bummed that I can't go back to Los Angeles for a week at the end of June/beginning of July, because I might be going through chemo or radiation and I would be too sick to go. I don't have a negative attitude about all of this, I'm just being realistic. I have to have everything in order because I'm worried about this situation.

But I have lots of people praying for me and keeping me in their thoughts. Knowing that people care that much about me means the world to me, and I'm a firm believer in the power of positive thinking, so hopefully this will all work out. I also have plenty of activities to occupy my time, so that's helping to keep my mind off of what's going on. I mean, it's hard to be depressed around a bunch of 7-12 year old Little League baseball players or my bowling team. I'll find out the results of my biopsy on Tuesday or Wednesday of this upcoming week, so it's not that long of a wait.