What Started Out As About The Full Moon Dreamboard....Went Off To Tangentland...

            The Strawberry Full Moon.  Set in with a Solstice at the beginning of the week.  And a partial eclipse as well…

            That’s a great deal of cosmic power floating around in such a small space.

            I did not make a new dreamboard for this month.  As happens when I get into a bigger, more in-depth board, like last month’s, I tend to need to keep it around for a bit longer in order to work with it and work through it some more.

            Originally, I had planned to pick a piece of the larger dreamboard and work on that one area via a dreamboard this month.  It so did not happen.

            I know the move itself is over…but there is so much other stuff to do.

            It’s not always a good thing when you are moving into your best friend’s house, after watching what other women have done in the past, much less into a house where you once lived as a room-mate.  I have too much of my own personal ‘stuff’ about coming in and redoing everything and moving everything around. 

            When R and I had talked about moving in together before this…we talked about buying that third house, the bigger house, to move into…and that option took so much pressure off of me.  If we both move into a completely different house, then no one has established their presence or their dominance, no one is set in their ways, no toes are stepped on when things are put away…

            Not so when one party moves into the other party’s house.

            I don’t know why I insist upon making things so much more difficult than they need to be.  R has given me permission to move whatever I need to move in order to get everything settled in.

            I don’t want to move his stuff.  I don’t want to re-arrange everything.  I don’t know how to make things work this way.  I’ve never been confronted w the issues I am currently having.  I’ve never actually cared about someone as much as I care about R…and I am very sensitive to his space…even when he tells me to violate his space all I want.

            I don’t know how to maintain the integrity of his …demeanor? Reputation? I don’t really know how to put it… I am the airy fairy.  There’s a Guanyin statue at the front door now, outside, where everyone can see it.   I have my birds of happiness flying, but have not yet found a place for the elephants.  I come with a wide and varied assortment of Goddess and Virgin Mary statuary. 

            Not to mention, there’s art work to be hung, pictures of the kids to be hung…at least I did get rid of most of the silk flowers…I lived in the Dark for so long that silk flowers became an acceptable substitute for real…I still have a few, but the larger arrangements are all gone.

            There’s the fish tank, the table, all the stuff for the kids….the list goes on and on.  I have the rabbits…I have plants…we won’t even get into the whole I have books thing.

            I worked really hard this past month, moving everything out of one place and into his house.  I nearly had a break-down more than once.  He had to walk away from me to cool down too many times for my own comfort…and his.  Too many things went on and are continuing to go on this month…and all we really wanted was the ability to get all the hard working and heavy lifting out of the way, so that peace could return and we could work on putting things to right.

            Every time I take one step forward, I feel as if I’ve taken three steps back.

           

            E getting so sick this past week did not help at all.  I am already worried enough about her health and then this happens.

            N comes to us this week completely sunburned…despite the fact that most skin cancer is caused by over-exposure to sun before the age of ten (I read that ages ago) T seems to feel that N, with his ¼ Italian blood, just needs to burn and be brown, without worrying so much about sunscreen, because it’s ‘hard to keep applying it’ because ‘you have to re-apply it after so much time passes’, ‘after N jumps into the pool’…blah blah blah…it boils down to it takes too much time and effort for T to protect the future health of one small boy.

            T is currently a very large issue around here.  As if it weren’t bad enough when he didn’t give us any warning about that first full week N stayed w us, much less the Memorial Day inability to speak up on T’s part…I get an email last week offering me dates to pick from to have N for the weeks he will stay w us.

            What do you think when someone says pick two weeks you want in this month, but I suggest these weeks?  Does that sound like, hey, I need to arrange baby-sitting for the time you don’t want the kid, but his whole month is free from all activity so just pick something already?

            I asked where N would be the other weeks…and was told ‘camp’.  So, why was I given the option to “pick” out the weeks I wanted?  Now, I have been told not a thing by T about camp or what it entails or why N goes…all we have to go on is supposition.  Like the week after N’s week w us after E’s birthday (the one where we had no warning whatsoever about until we dropped him off on Sunday before the week started)…it seemed that T had forgotten to enroll N in anything and then had to scramble to come up w something to cover T’s butt…when T first told me about summer camp for N, he made it sound as if everything were already done and set for the entire summer…I figured all I had to do was wait to be told which weeks N would be spending w us.

            I should have known better.

           

            This week, N shows up.  No bag in sight.  No clothes.  No nothing.  A nice sunburn all over his body and his nose peeling like some crusty scab.  Just the clothes on his body.

            Now, we do have clothes for the boy.  I make sure we buy them for this specific and precise reason.  If we didn’t have clothes for the boy, he’d have to run around in his holey undies…as 99% of the stuff he shows up in is too small, too short, too stained, too holey—and completely inappropriate (as in he arrives in a very thin coat in the dead of winter, w nothing but too small undies and t shirts in his bag).  We do not send clothes home w N, because if we did, we know we’d end up buying all his clothes at both houses for him, because T would simply accept that it is our responsibility to buy N clothes instead of us working together on things.  Nothing that goes there comes back, unless N is wearing it when he arrives at our door step.

            I would love the opportunity to sit down w that man and work these things out, but that will never happen, because T has his own agenda and his own plans that do not include me, except as another free baby-sitter for N.

            I still cannot get over the huge shift in N’s behavior by Wednesday of the week he spent w us last time.  He was a completely different and much calmer, much more relaxed kid.

            I have spent the past year?  Nearly two now? Trying to remember when N started to drum on the floor (his one ‘official’ stim)…and it was, I swear to you, not until after he went to live w T.  Yes, N had issues, but they were speech and social ‘conformity’ issues…but the other stuff…his drumming, his getting sick all the time, his reacting to stressful situations by vomiting, there was none of that when he was w us before.  N’s verbal skills may have improved, but overall…I think the rest of his personality has eroded and become lost as he struggles to do what he is told, as he fights to fit into the box T shoves him into in order to get what T wants out of things.

            There is a light gone from that little boy, a spark, that began to resurface by the middle of the week he stayed w us.  Seeing that light again was shocking.  And painful.  Especially since there is not a great deal I can do to keep that light there when he is not w us.  I hadn’t realized it had gone out, until I saw it back again.

            R has offered to pay for testing for N, like getting his hearing tested.  Based on some of N’s speech patterns, based on my own experience w hearing impaired children and adults, N has hearing issues.  Despite what T keeps telling me.  I know T will tell me anything he thinks I want to hear to get me to shut up.

           

            Ahh…but this is an easy rant to fall into…

            There’s E’s illness, where not only was she genuinely sick, she stopped eating, because she was afraid she’d throw up.  We have enough issues getting her to eat enough as it is…and then this happens.  She now refuses to touch boost or ensure or any other drink like that.  She does not like smoothies.  She is using the movie Food Inc as an excuse to stop eating.

            Now, E got sick for the same basic reason we’ve all been sick this month: swimming in that hotel pool.  Except…everyone else, including N, got hit w the illness immediately.  E held on to hers, never mentioned a thing for the entire time after the pool, not a twinge in her stomach, not a sniffle, not a cough…three weeks later…she gets hit with something that makes her sleep for 2 days straight…and causes her to be sicky poo yucky for another five days or so…

            It’s not germs that got to her…it’s her own mind.  I am not saying she wasn’t sick.  She was truly physically ill.  BUT…all the vomiting, after that first day and probably that first day as well, was caused by her coughing…and by the way she held herself when she coughed.

            The child is terrified of throwing up—she hates it.  She would start to cough and you could tell by the way she held her mouth open, by the way she held her body, she was going to puke…it was inevitable…she was triggering it, whether she meant to or not.  When we changed the way she was holding herself, she didn’t puke.  In fact, there was one night when we knew germs were not a factor at all that she threw up 3-4-5 times…she’d been so sick during the week that I could not get any packing or anything done at the old house…so R watched her for roughly 2 hours so I could go pack things in the evening.  While home alone w R, the girl who had not coughed all day developed terrible coughing fits, and despite R’s best efforts to get her to relax and not tense up, she puked. 

            The original sickness has everything to do w her being afraid of moving in w R full time—which is actually just ludicrous—since we‘ve fairly much lived here the entire time anyway; we just used the other house as a storage facility.  She threw up that night, after I was gone for an hour, because she was afraid because I wasn’t back yet.  When I did return, she told me not to do that again, not to be gone that long again.

            Am I saying she is consciously doing all of this?  Nope.  I am saying after all her experiences w T, she’s terrified of getting into a relationship w R and trusting him as her father figure—because any such figure in the past has pretty much sh*t all over her and she doesn’t want to be shut out in the cold after opening her heart up to someone again.

            This is where the food issue comes in.  Jesus Christ on crutches…these are issues I had when I was a teen-ager…she has them now, at 9yo.  Food is the only thing she can control.  I see it—I am watching it—I understand it.  But I cannot tolerate it or allow it.

            I’m a cutter.  I was a drug addict and an alcoholic, among other things.  I am not going to let E go through the hells I went through.  I always meant to save her from that.

            My whole thing w my kids was not to force food on them.  Not to make them clean their plates.  Not to make them eat foods they don’t like.  Not to treat them the way my mother treated me.

            E is leaving us no choice.  Now she has to eat at set times.  She has to eat all the food on her plate, period.  She has to eat in a timely manner.  No more 4 hours of munching dry cereal and calling it breakfast and being unable to do anything else but nibble (as in unable to do schoolwork).  We still have the same rule of you at least have to try something, but since she has a tendency to just look at something and say I hate it, that tastes yucky, whatever, we actually have to step in and make her eat things…like chicken nuggets/chicken tenders.  She’s saying Food Inc taught her that chickens are treated badly in the slaughterhouse—oh yes they are—I 100% agree there.  I worked in a chicken plant—for all of three days.  Even away from the killing floor, it ain’t pretty.  I still refuse to eat that company’s products based on what I saw, despite all the guidelines and cleanliness procedures and whatnot.  If not for chicken, the kid might have faded away long ago…now she won’t touch chicken.

            She hates pancakes now—because (It took me years to figure this out) when we moved to MD, the morning we left MO, T took us to McDonald’s for   breakfast and E had pancakes—she can’t eat them anymore.  The smell of syrup makes her sick to her stomach.  After living w T, N is such a finicky eater…there’s no veg going into this boy.  But at least he is eating.  He’s always been sensitive to the chemicals in foods … no matter how slight.

            But E—she won’t eat macaroni and cheese, she won’t eat …tons of stuff that she used to eat…no matter if I let her cook it or pick it out or help cook it or we grow it ourselves…all the usual tricks I use to get healthy things into her…they don’t work.  She doesn’t eat cookies.  If I make bread, half the time the loaf is wolfed down and gone before it has time to cool…the other half of the time no one touches it and it goes all moldy.  She has decided she doesn’t want soups –and it’s summer so I am not all that upset over that.  But…we’re at a ramen noodle impasse…with a handful of cheerios thrown in.  She won’t even drink chocolate milk (and we used the vitamin and mineral packed chocolate powder to get that much more nutrition into her) because while she was sick she threw up chocolate milk…so that won’t fly anymore.  She doesn’t drink fruit juices, because she doesn’t like the taste.  She won’t even drink spite anymore, after her Aunt convinced her it’s the only thing to drink to help your tummy when you’re sick, because while E was sick this time she sipped the sprite and it made her burp and the burp tasted like vomit…so sprite is bad.

            We take her to the store and let her pick things out…whatever it takes (so long as it isn’t complete garbage, like cookies and cakes and ice cream) to get her to eat.  So far, it’s ramen noodles and cheese its.  If I didn’t make sweet tea, she’d dehydrate and blow away.

            If not for R being able to get through to her, I’d have had to have taken her to the hospital to have her tubed or something.  R has the ability to get through and to cut through all her b/s.  He does not give up.  He does not back off.  He does not waffle.  It’s exactly what this entire cadre of us needs, this little family.  Otherwise, we would be lost. 

            We are still working on trying to find a way to motivate her w her schoolwork.  I’ve been meaning to write more about our homeschooling experiences,  but she makes me so miserable some days that I don’t really want to whine and cry all over about things.  Offering incentives doesn’t work…not a membership to club penguin, not a new puppy, not a game system of her choice, not trips to the zoo, not trips to the science center, not playing board games as a family, not reading stories to her.  She just shrugs it off and goes on doing her thing.  Taking things away does not work.  We could empty her room of everything but a pillow and blanket and she’d still shrug it off and do her own thing.

            All I wanted to do was not be my parents when I had kids.  I had so many food issues and spent far too much time fighting anorexia and bulimia—and I am still fighting.  No one tells you this stuff is like any other addiction, be it alcohol or drugs.  You don’t conquer it; you live with it every single day of your life, for the rest of your life.

            All I wanted was to give my kids a stable family life where they felt safe and loved.  If T had ever been able to open his mouth, about anything at all, at any point in the relationship—then or now--things would have been so completely different.  If he had been the man he claims to be, things could have worked.  He’s not that man.  If he had been honest at all, with me, with himself, I would have gotten my own place and not lived with him.  We would have done the friends as parents thing from the beginning…but the man cannot and will not open his mouth.

            I made bad choices.  I allowed things to happen.  Yes.

            At least at this point in my life…I have the stable home life…the stable man…the stable world that I have spent my entire life searching for.  And heck yes, it is absolutely terrifying to have all that you have ever wanted and dreamed of dropped into your lap and made real.

            I love R.  I have always loved him.  I have always appreciated him.  Not the way I do now though.  I am all too often stunned by this man. 

            I have always held R up, especially to T, as an example of a real man.  R is a real man, hands down.  As I have watched our family this past month, with the move, the stupidity of his ex and my ex, work, weather, and everything in between…I am simply amazed, over and over, by R.  Honestly, his parents raised him right.  Somehow, he is what I have always wanted and expected in a man…in the best possible manner.

            To throw that into lupine terms, this man is alpha, and he takes that role very seriously.

            I had to sit down a couple weeks ago, before E got sick, because it dawned on me that I have never in my life been with a real man before…even though I would have claimed the ex-husband was, if I did not have an example right before my eyes.  Real men do not act the way that ex did…real men do not treat people, male or female, the way he did/does.  One of these days, I will probably go into this in more detail, about R.

            Every day, I am shocked and humbled and amazed that he loves me.  Not a day goes by, even under duress and stress, that I do not offer up thousands of prayers of thanks for this man in my life. 

            It hurts to look at him sometimes.  He deserves so much better than me…but he is willing to keep me around in spite of myself.

            He is the only person I have ever looked at and found myself smiling about the thought of growing old w him.  He is also the only person I have ever been so afraid of letting him touch me, because he goes so deeply into my soul that to say he completes me is …a misnomer and is misleading…he does not complete me…he SEES me…he sees me and he sees through me and he loves me anyway.

            All of this jabber, all because I have spent one h*ll of a month, moving and being moved, and wanting all of this to just be bloody well over…let’s get the walls painted, the new furniture arranged, the bookcases built, these boxes and bags unpacked and everything put away.  Let’s host our first welcoming party to have friends in to visit. 

            Let us get through the stress so we can stop bickering and yelling at one another and walking away from one another.  Let the rest of our life begin. 

            As my mother told me the other day, think of how bad things would be if we weren’t praying for you…

            Amen.

And thank you.

A Love Diatribe

Ever since I saw Jamie’s New Moon post, I have been wrangling various things round and round in my mind. Everything that is important to me. How I want to arrange all those things. The whole nine there. Above and beyond, my family is my main priority…the love of my life, R, plus my children. Ok, fine, and the dogs fall in that range as well…from the gimpy Old Man to the Spastic Dumbdumb…and the empathic shepherd in between…sigh…
ANYWAY! I think I have a handle—or at least the semblance of a handle—on the whole work arena thing here…knowing that R has my back no matter what I do is an amazing thing in and of itself as well…but still…I am not one to rest forever upon my laurels here…really…I may be slow at times…but I don’t give up on the important things…not unless I have no other choice…

R and I had a very long, very dramatic (because I am an idiot and have to let things go until there is no other option in cases like these) discussion this morning. He and I are solid. I don’t think the end of the world, nor a nuclear disaster nor a flying toilet seat could separate us at this point…sometimes Destiny works. He and I were destined to be together from the start, from our first meeting 9-10 years ago. Anything that happened in between to either of us was just grist for our mills, so we would be better people once he and I got together, better for one another.
As much as I dislike the drama, despite being the cause of it all today, I like when he and I have these deeply involved talks. We end up not only getting so much out in the open between us, but we wind up learning so much about one another, even as we find out more about ourselves as a couple, as we solidify our stake in one another that much more firmly…

This morning made us both think—all the time we wasted w the other people in our lives…all the effort we put into relationships that never meant half of what this relationship means to us…that is really what sucks. All the time and energy and pain—for people we never saw ourselves having a future w anyway…for people that we didn’t care about then the way we care about one another now…it’s shocking…

Looking at the marriage in my past…I am ashamed to admit that I once declared that man to be the ‘love of my life’…even knowing that one particular relationship before that was much stronger emotionally and physically…I literally sold my soul for that man, or much rather, I gave my soul away free of charge, at his behest…and spent the next 10+ years in Hell, forcing myself to believe that I loved this man more than the thing I had given away, even though that was utterly impossible…it was never the cheating that bothered me w him—I’m not that kind—especially when I literally shut down completely, physically and mentally, for several years, like I did then—it might not have been quite so long if I hadn’t worked as a telephone operator for a soul-sucking company either—but hey—water under the bridge—and yes, that company is the BIG reason why I will never work a corporate job ever again…it was all the lies the man told. He’d lay in bed w one …wh*re or another…have them call me while he was there, tell them what to say…then come home and fawn all over me, tell me how he couldn’t live without me, ply me w gifts, beg me to stay home from a job he made me keep so we could go out together as a couple to work on things—the job, I kept again at his behest—which is not quite the same thing as forcing—it’s the passive aggressive form of forcing—that with all the benefits and the salary, where would we go to find me a better job that would pay as well, or offer so many benefits, or vacation time or blah blah blah—I should have told him to bite me and worked at McDonald’s or whatever and actually gone to school—instead of letting him talk me out of it all the time—for years on end. But—that was then. This is now.

Here I am now with this most incredible man. A man who puts up w me even in my worst moods. A man who actually gets me and understands me. A man who has seen me through far worse circumstances—who has seen me at my worst—and then some. And the one who has never turned his back on me, not from the moment he met me, not for any reason. This is the man who gave me a yellow flower the Mother’s day I was pregnant w E. This is the man who not only baby-sat my daughter while I attended massage therapy school—this is the man who babysat the biological donor when I was pregnant and I went to WV to visit family…Oh, let us not speak of the biological donor…I’ve had enough of that for the week already…and it was only spoken of for all of 20 seconds via email the other day too—already the tedium of that lies heavily upon me…

I know I have said all these things about R before…but bear w me…I wrestled w my Inadequacy Daemons last night—while being wedged in between R and N—R who wanted to be close but still tried to give me my space, which was worse because I needed physical space but wanted to be inside his skin for the sake of being comforted—N who was clutchier and clingier than I have seen him in a long long LONG time…and Kendall shoving herself up against my feet until R would stretch and brush up against her or kick her or whatever, depending on where she was, and she would get off the bed for a bit…and then she’d jump up again and do it all over…I didn’t get much sleep at all last night—I slept more after N woke up this morning—and woke R up by picking on him—between 8 and 8:30a—than I did most of the night—and that was before R and I had our talk too…so…talk about *not* fun now that the tiredness has had more time to set in…I agreed to take the kids up the road to McDonald’s for lunch—just so I could get some strong coffee and use of the brisk icy sharp air as it blew by. Neither of which really helped all that much either…

R and I met in 2000. The ex husband and he worked together. T and I had moved to St Louis in Nov, 99. He told me we needed a couple to go out w to do couples things w—-I was fine w that. R and I had a weird connection the entire time. It wasn’t talked about then in anyway. I don’t really remember when it was first discussed. I don’t really remember how we started to hang out…or how we got involved in the same group…all I know was I was in a bad space, w a husband who had told me that moving to St Louis was a brand new beginning for our relationship—while his actions dictated otherwise…I left him…because, as his past proves out, he is incapable of leaving the woman he is w, no matter how unhappy he is or anything else. Every time I left him, he would find a reason to come back. Dude, most of the reason I let someone else pick the guy I slept w then was because—I didn’t know how to make decisions myself anymore and I surely didn’t want another T on my hands…why I got pregnant was partially to stop T from coming back—but it didn’t stop him. I must have left him, literally moved in and moved out, 3, 4 times before it was all over. It was so bizarre at one point R had to threaten to kick my butt if I moved back in w T one more time…

R took care of me while I was pregnant. We carpooled together—as in, he came to pick me up, drove us to the metro station, rode w me the whole way and talked w me the whole way. He would walk me to work. He would come camp out at my office once his day was done since I worked later than he did. We went to lunch darn near every day. He never hit on me, not even a little, ever. I cannot say that of any other man in my life.
He busted his a** to help me find an apartment of my own—and to get me into said apartment, during the divorce. More than once too—before E arrived—and after too…Funny things now—like he and I had the same divorce attorney—because I recommended ours to him. He took care of E while I was in massage school. E and I have lived w him, more than once. And he never asked for a thing either. This is the man who rubbed my back when I was frustrated trying to memorize bones and muscle insertions and origins and everything else for massage school…this is the man who took us back in after the whole c*ck-up w T (the other T) and I was pregnant w N…and still he didn’t ask for a thing from us…I gave birth in his house…he was the first person after the midwife and doula –well, other than E and me- that N saw in his whole life…R has always always been there for the kids in some capacity. He tried every year to remember E’s birthday—up until I, like, moved to the other side of the world—ok, fine—just the other side of the country—and that was no longer possible—but we stayed in contact…and he had to deal w T’s really bizarre then-girlfriend as well—which still kinda creeps me out all over—but that ended pretty quick—as predicted…

Again w the ANYWAY!!

R and I have been through some very weird and wonderful stuff together. A sweat lodge at a pagan camping event…but the camping part was fun too—and that’s where R picked up his delicious nickname (BA—just ask—I won’t post it here though). We’ve been through all sorts of training for…alternative things…we went through UFT training…which I dragged him to the first time and didn’t need much begging to get him to after that…he was my best test subject while I was in massage school…I baby-sat his then-girlfriend – this is bag of hammers – the one who ‘pushed’ my dragon oracle cards so hard they could literally never be used again…not after years of cleansing, clearing and being packed away in salt and everything else…now I use R’s dragon deck…he bought his deck after playing w mine because he liked the feel…

R is the man I have trusted implicitly from the get go…more than I ever was able to trust the ex-hub throughout all our time together…this is the man whose friendship means the world to me, whose word and opinion mean everything to me, whose friendship I knew would always be there no matter what…this was my one real True Friend…the one to whom I could and did—and still do-- confess everything, at any given time. This is the man who would sit and down a bottle (or more) of tequila w me…and then go to bed after making sure I was safe for the night…and never lift a finger to touch me otherwise…this is the man the entire world swore up and down I was sleeping w –before either of our divorces…and all through the intervening years since (for the record—everyone was wrong about that—we never did, not until we started seeing each other this past year)…this is the man I have from the beginning considered my twin, my brother…this is the one man I would never hit on for real because our friendship was far more important to me than anything else…and I would never consider jeopardizing that … in fact, when R and I started sleeping together, and technically that deal still stands right now, if ever things get bad and the relationship dissolves—we will always remain friends—we will just have more stuff to pick on each other about…but we won’t let anything interrupt the friendship.

This morning, my world rocked, and not in a good way either. It has before…when I look at the ex-hub and think, this is the man I thought I loved with all my heart, before I gave my soul away. That was the man I thought of as my sun and my moon. I loved him so much I gave up the only thing that meant anything to me and I destroyed myself for him. I did love him that much, didn’t I? I nearly died, more than once…from sorrow, from pain, from whatever I could swallow…because of him…and I thought that was love. It was not love. I was a complete idiot. Even before the soul selling incident. I was a complete idiot.

What I felt for the ex-hub is nowhere near the realm of what I feel for R. I have always loved R—but as a brother, as a friend. Once he came to me, and we allowed those barriers to drop away, there was a well-spring waiting there, w his name written all over it. This is the kind of emotion that could cause one to wait 100 years, pining for your love to return, strong in your faith that he would return. This is the intense emotion that fells empires, and lasts throughout the ages. This is the sort of love that makes Isis and Osiris look like amateurs in the spectrum of Love (please, no offense meant there, Lady and Sire, honest).
This is the kind of love where my heart may explode at any time just by looking at the man, knowing he isn’t going anywhere, no matter how nuts I am. We are both so injured, so wary…and we’ve watched each other grow that way over the years, so we both understand the other and how the other reached that position…but we are completely willing to work with one another and work through any thing that may come up between us …no matter how nuts either of us is…there is a real sense of security and happiness—and real genuine happiness—not the glossed over I’m trying to be happy fake stuff he and I are so used to w former partners—in this relationship.

He says the same thing I do. He has never before been able to see himself w any of the exs long-term, as in, into the twilight years of life, growing old together, happy throughout the time together, for the most part. He has always seen that possibility w me. Ditto on the exs on my side…I always knew the ex-hub would die and I would be free to finally start living my own life—scary how very like my mother that sounds…but it’s true—for me and for her. I always knew N’s dad and I would only be together a few years for the sake of the kids—although things would have been so much better if he had ever been able to open his mouth or be honest—but again—water under the bridge…oh, E’s biological donor? During a session w the …whatever you call her…the Guides put it best—and I paraphrase—he doesn’t have a year…and I was always ok w that…
I am the only woman R has ever been w that he can actually see himself having children w – he’s never seen that before w anyone he’s dated. It’s kinda obvious I’m not so…committed to the biological donors of my children…not the past ones anyway…R stands as the exception to all my rules…he’s earned that in my book, a billion times over…for all the little things he does, much less the big ones…
In my life, I have been pregnant four times. Only one miscarriage. I gave every man the same choices each time…only one man stood beside me –and also told me to stop baiting him or else…and he was there for me through three of those pregnancies—only one of which was his, the only one that ended in miscarriage. He is also the man who holds me now when I do nothing but bawl my eyes out over that miscarriage too. Over the miscarriage and over the first pregnancy that happened years before I even met him. R will not leave me. No matter what happens. There really is nothing that can happen, that either of us is willing to do to cause it, that will ever destroy what we have. A few people have said we are obviously the til death do we part types…this is true—and I don’t really believe death has the power to separate us either…we’ve been together for so many lifetimes, in one capacity or the other, as it is anyway…
Neither of us has to worry about a rebound relationship scenario…neither of us operate that way anyway, E’s biological donor notwithstanding…We don’t have to worry about either of us cheating, because neither of us is like that. Yes, I understand I have said it many a time—I don’t care if my partner cheats—I care if he lies—but that doesn’t mean I’d cheat—I never have—then again, if I were seeing someone I always told him when I was seeing someone else too—that’s just me…I was legally separated before I did anything before that divorce was final—even though I knew the ex-hub, he’d slept w the entire female population of Ft Smith and then some…There are no lies between us, R and me—and worse—neither of us could lie to the other anyway—we’ve been together too bloody long as friends—we know each other too well…there is nothing we cannot share…nothing we cannot overcome…nothing we cannot get through together…we know that…we’ve discussed it…and it is all good.

I am blessed. R and I are blessed. As I told R this morning, ever since we met, he has been the best thing that has ever happened to me … and I meant it too…I mean it every day…every time I look at him…every time we kiss or hold hands or walk down the street together…and at least now he can honestly say the same thing about me…maybe not from the very start of the relationship—but at least now…I am the best thing that has ever happened to him.

I make him happy. He makes me happy. Neither of us has ever actually had that before—that just complete sense of happiness, and from such small every day things too. Sitting together. Hanging out in the kitchen. Snuggling side by side, nestled together in bed, reading before we turn the lights out.

Not to mention, my kids love him. He loves them—even if he isn’t always sure what to do w or about them—for the record, neither am I, but still…

I love the man. Hands down. Period. It is a feeling more than reciprocated. Without expectation of anything but our dedication to that love too. No rules. No agendas. Nothing like that. Just, loving one another, the best way we know how…

The New Moon investigations, as I shall now name them, only lead me back into how much I love the man, how lucky I am to have him, how very blessed I am…and how good things are now…as they grow to be even bigger, better and more vibrant between us w every day that passes…I can ask for nothing more. Lest my scarred and battered heart explode from the joy…

And, of course, today, we bought a vehicle too. Nope. Not ‘my’ vehicle. A 2006 Nissan Pathfinder. What that means is next week—we’re going to get the stuff for the kids’ rooms—and then maybe even a new kitchen table—so I can keep this table I am currently sitting at for my work –and my paperwork and all sorts of other stuff strewn across--and have the kitchen table—for eating on…
Too bad I can’t drive a stick—or else I’d have the Saturn while R is in CO in February—he’s taking the pathfinder…and w that, it’s time to rustle up the small people and bundle them up for the walk home to R’s for the night…until next time…

Peace…

I'm A Bad Bad Girl Today, Baby

Oh, this is just fun. The netbook hooked up to a regular sized keyboard--who knew that could be so much fun?
So, not only can I have my gmail account open (on the desktop), I can work on this account (which is not connected to my gmail account--but to another account all together)--and still get everything done i want to get done.

First things first, unless there is a national natural disaster (Gods forbid), we close today around 2p.
First, why we won't ever use US Title again.
The mortgage was approved. So everything associated with the mortgage was done. US Title was supposed to be researching the property title to make certain the property title was clear. They chose not to do this. They chose to see if R was clear.
Now, since his divorce in 2000, R has gotten a second mortgage, and has refinanced his house three, four times. He also bought a brand new car during that time. Not once was there ever an issue.
US Title pulled something up that has never and still does not show up on R's credit report.
In his divorce, R was responsible for paying off some bill. He paid it off. neither her attorney nor his ever told either of them that she would have to go back and let the courts know he paid it off. otherwise, he would have made darned sure he told them and she told them.
Flash forward to the ultra insecure girlfriend before me...the one who had the need to eradicate any woman from his past. She threw out all the receipts that he was keeping for a reason. Canceled checks and the like. Funny how all her micromanagement insecurity keeps popping up (you should have read the doc she wrote for the dog sitter...I nearly cried it was so pitiful--so beyond micromanagement and so clear that she lacked any of the basic common sense most people have when dealing with a dog sitter...unless you have a 2 pound chihuahua who needs her mani/pedi every day sort of dog....) ... R had to prove this bill had been taken care of--the bank won't print checks older than 7 years...this was 8 yrs old...he was able to provide bank statements, which do not show to whom the check is made out, but it does show payment has been made.
He sent letter to the ex...and if she doesn't take care of this, he can take her to court to settle it and she is responsible for all the attorney's fees and everything. So all and all, not a bad thing.
it was brought to light and we can take care of it.
no real issue.
Other than the stupidity of ex's. At least the ex wife can be given some small credit, since no one mentioned she'd have to get off her butt and tell someone he took care of things. luckily, r did tell his attorney when he paid it off. So that's there as well.
The ex-girlfriend--oh--her we get to pick on her irrational fears and insecurities that much more...which is REALLY fun for me--because I have been here for 9 years...and she has hated me all along as one of his past conquests....which R and I have always found amusing...as have other people...but, I won't name names, basically because everyone I know always thought that was hysterical...

Now, why we won't be using Vinson (I may be spelling it wrong) mortgage ever again is a different matter...well, it would help if the person we were working with would actually learn how to call a customer back. I have never seen such appalling disregard for someone who is trying to give you their money before...such shoddy customer service.
Add into that the unprofessional appearances of their company. We should ahve closed yesterday. But we didn't. They were planning to change internet service providers next week. The day before yesterday, their current provider shut off all their service. So they were screwed until they could manage to get something up today. No, they cannot run numbers or anything else without having internet access. Which means, because they could not give us the total for the check to bring to closing, we couldn't close.
And today, again, we sit here waiting to be told how much to get a cashier's check for. This is the worst outfit I have ever seen. Dealing with this much money on the table, and the agent (L) cannot even be bothered to give you a call-back. when we were supposed to close this past Monday, someone (I forget who at this point) told R that the lady (I am assuming this means the seller's party or something) had already been contacted that the closing wouldn't be going that day....but no one called R to let him know that....
So...no more US Title for us and no more Vinson Mortgage for us.

Although I do believe the person R wanted to work w in the first place but who never really got around to returning phone calls realizes now that he missed a sale--and is now trying to be a gracious sales person...but we'll just have to see about him.

what is it about the real estate business that no one knows how to return a bloody call? from the real estate agents to the mortgage people...You would think these people would be more on the ball...but it's like this every time...ever since we bought the first house in AR...and I have heard complaints...nationwide...since I was a kid...sheesh...no wonder I didn't fight harder to take the test when I did the real estate sales agent course....(for those who didn't know or who forgot...I gave birth to N the day I was supposed to be taking the test--either the day of the test or very close to it...)

On to other things...

So, I finished my nano novel. Createspace will print my book for free (not just me, all Nano winners)...if I am done with the rewriting and the editing no later than July 1. As things stand at the moment, I meant to get out of bed this morning and start the next scene...since I have cut most of the non-essential stuff from this version...and as scary as it seems, i didn't have to cut as much as i thought I would...I merely have to move things around a bit and fill in the gaps. BUT...this is not a 50000 word novel. Maybe a 100000 word novel...but not 50000 words....but I am not planning to do much at all, except as the Muse hits me (as she did today, even though I have thus far ignored her....) until after we move...

I trust we are closing today. It's after the full moon...things are breaking open again and moving along. Something like an ice floe that was stuck and has broken into smaller pieces due to current or temperature or the striking of rocks or other things...or any combination thereof...now is the time to move forward...

I have needed the respite of staying at R's house the past ouple days. I hadn't realized how much I needed it.

Funny, how I have debated about putting myself out here in this forum, although that is what I am known for. I hate to think that knowing certain other people read this blog may cause me to censor myself more than I normally would. So, today I am trying to break through that. :-)

People who have known me for a very long time cannot get over the fact that I have never been raped. I'm easy. I used to drink too much. If you offered me something, anything but a needle, i did it. I hung out with people whose only goal was self-destruction. My best friend for many years truly was Death. One friend still picks on me--learning to deep throat was not the issue. The tricky part was not regurgitating when I did it, because I had had my stomach pumped so often, on top of other more bulimic issues. I have a hair trigger gag reflex.
What has R taught me here? That trust trumps hair trigger gag reflex--every time. Something the ex hub couldn't have convinced me of in a million years--namely because he and i both knew there was no reason to trust him. All these years later, and only now am I getting what other people joked and teased me about about the ex-hub when we lived in Fayetteville, AR...now I really get things that left me baffled back then.

Where am i going with this? Having the house broken into is akin to rape. I was never raped, and I hol to this, because you literally cannot rape the willing. there was never a need to take me by force. I was willing. I learned from the ex hub because of his first ex wife when I was 21 yo that I didn't have to have sex every time he wanted to--no one had ever told me that before...so maybe after that rape might have been an issue...but I wasn't running with the same wild crowd any more...by that time, T was in the process of completely destroying me...and he was the first person who preferred to sit and watch me to make sure the pills didn't kill me rather than take me to the hospital to get my stomach pumped...twice he did this...because he didn't want people to look at him the wrong way...interesting huh? Yet, we have proof, I am the only woman in his life he did not physically abuse...makes ya wonder some days...not me though...I know better...what he did to me was so much worse...physical pain heals. Scars fade. What he did still bleeds to this day...but the thoughts of her return are more than enough to quell anything else...and the clock draws nearer and despite his best efforts--she does know how to find me...and I know how to find him...but I won't.

Back to the house (It's a full moon--Ive been quiet too long--I'm chirpy today...)--

I can't sleep in my own bed...the guys spent a great deal of time in my bedroom. They never touched my actual lingerie drawer...which i find funny. They found the toy drawer (most of the toys are at R's house--I'd just taken them that week--for a variety of reasons....) -- they had a field day w my panty drawer...I mean, we found panties in the den....
I admit, I have a lingerie fetish. it's how I live and breathe and know I am a girl. I don't wear the stuff for any man, although R loves it...I wear it for me and i always have.
E and I watch the Victoria Secret show every year, because R reminds us every year. But E and I both love the lingerie, the shoes, the make-up. E could do what I hedged around and never really went for...she could become the model...I took the fetish route and never went legit there...and then I found T and my life went to hell for the next way too many years...but I am teaching my daughter--you don't wear sexy bras or sexy shoes because the man in your life likes it--you like it or you don't bother...if the guy in your life doesn't like what you like, you are with the wrong guy. period. It's true. Trust me, the other ex was more than enough proof of that.
No matter how hard you try, being something you are not 100%, no matter what the reason, it never works for long...

The break-in...I was more upset over the cheesy poofs being gone--they were for N--and the ramen noodles being gone--those were for E. I am ticked off at the landlord. If he had done as he had promised and gotten us central air, we wouldn't have had that huge window a/c unit.
Then again, if he had had the torn roofing paper on the carport taken care of and the broken window from July taken care of, the city might not have thought the house derelict this summer and wouldn't have cut my lawn and all the rose bushes and lilac bushes and other shrubs and flowers we had planted....including 4 ft tall nandino bushes and 2 ft tall boxwoods--but that is another discussion...and one I will have no problem making public once I finish typing out the the list of things that need to be done to the house...because I plan to give this list not only to the landlord...but also to the city, as well as anyone else I can think to give it to...because ...well...I will just let that one go...but since i am not pursuing anything legally, I'll let it go. I was never going to pursue anything legally--but I was planning to move--and walk away from everything there.

I'm not blaming anyone. I'm grumbling.

The house is safer now that we pulled that a/c unit out and have left it on the back porch--we didn't have anywhere else to put it--and I don't want it. If the guy had told me he'd be putting in window units before I moved in--I wouldn't have moved in at all. And i told him that central ir was my sticking point. No central air and I was off to see some other house. But he promised, verbally, central air. Ah-yuh--look how that turned out. We won't go there.

That does nto mean the house is safe. It feels--different. I know how lucky we are. I also know how much protection went into that house. I believe that the break in happened for a reason.

I beleive at least one of those kids who broke in will never again in his whole entire life do anything the least bit untoward, much less 'bad'....this poor young man has learned his lesson. His mom is moving her family, the son and daughter, out of the neighborhood. Her own mother is the minister of their church. I think she said Alton or Belleville or something like that. But her son will not be permitted to remain in the proximity of usch stupid kids who have no goals in their lives.

I am not worried that this one boy is out of juvie. I was nto worried when he came over after school to talk to me, to see if he could do anything to help. I had jsut finished loading the pod, so there really was nothing. I felt so bad for the kid. He was nearly in tears. This boy feels the remorse. He gets credit.

I haven't seen the others--except for the two instigators that live right up the road. The ones whose mother doesn't care what they do. The ones who don't go to school. the ones who have nothing better to do than break in to their friends and neighbors houses to see what they can get...I do not think they will do anything...because the cops know they are the ring leaders...but that doesn't mean I need to be under their scrutiny or anything else....those two I truly beleive are corrupt and will not learn, because they just don't care. These are the type to go to jail, learn how to do more terrible things, and come out planning to do them...there is no hope for them...and that is their choice. But I'll be darned if I'll stick around for it...

I was just getting back into the space where i could drive, not a lot, not well, and conditions have to be just right or I get too nervous and have to pull over--and now my vertigo when R is driving is back.
However, i am stubborn personified at times. Once we have the go ahead--I will have no issues driving back and forth, loading and unloading, getting things moved from one venue to the next. I can see that coming. I can taste it at the edge of my mind...I know it's coming and I am prepared.

I hate to move. really I do. And yet...we move into this house, knowing R and I will be moving in together within the year...not into either of these houses, but into the bigger house with the land attached so we have woods and farmland and critters galore....hating to move will not stop me from moving though...I am simply hoping that after R and I move in together, there's not going to be a great deal of moving after that. traveling, yes. I know there will be a great deal of that--but the whole packing and moving...nope.

Funny thing, as we are set to moving, we are bringing things to R's house--and as we go shopping we are leaving stuff at his house--E found this huge bag of stuffed animals in the basement. R thought it was mine, since we had stuff in his basement for ever so long...but I told him--not ours. I am far more likely to toss bags of stuffed animals.

The ex girlfriend, in all her desire to be rid of all traces of his other exs--she totally missed that bag of toys--and some of the toys had the ex's name on them! That's how I figured out to whom they belonged. bag of hammers left some stuff behind. Yet the last ex, with all her weird insecurities and her bizarre sweeping through his house/basement to rearrange things and get rid of things, she never noticed that bag of toys? Funny.... the way that freaky woman's head worked...I mean, I work in circles...but she is so much stranger...I feel for her...

Now--on to other things--because I need to get them written down somewhere before I forget...

I have had a few ideas roaming around my head lately...mostly concerning the Nano book.
I have never actually finished an entire book before.
I have several books on how to build an online platform before you get known. I already have platforms out there...
I am thinking of dismantling most of the various different blogs and consolidating all the writing practice blogs into one main writing blog...which will lead to me picking up the blog I started to set up months and months ago and have as yet done nothing else....

But there are so many other things....

This is my list...so bear with me...

There is the landlord here I want to make sure everyone knows who he is so they are wary when they do business with him. He is a good guy, just don't expect much from him as a landlord.

There is this etsy store...I ordered a diapering system in July--and to date...nada...and the excuses don't fly.
i have contacted etsy--and ya know what, there is nothing etsy can do...
and since it's older than 30 days, you know what, there's nothing paypal can do....

I have a client who told me back towards last Christmas never to use paypal, because paypal has no direct power over anything. It's true. That lesson I learned. Although there are other ways to go about recouping losses. She gave me a great deal of information on those things. Pretty cool there.

But, no more etsy for me. Sorry. No more paypal, except under the strictest of guidelines...which is fine, since our other business accepts credit cards outright and we don't have to worry much about paypal there...

There are so many other things that are looking up.

I have a new schedule to set up...again that will have to wait until after the move is complete...

So--don't get me started on the move...one of the things I plan to do when we have the truck is buy more bookcases....and then there are the kids' requests...and a dining room table...

lol

I think this may take care of things for today--at least at the moment...I've been stalling.
Even at R's house, there is laundry to fold, turkey to dehydrate (E LOVES this stuff...R and I can leave it happily--but hey, E is overjoyed. Of course, we also say if we told E that R dehydrated it, we're pretty sure we could get her to eat dirt and sticks and rocks...as long as R dehydrated it. lol)

So, off I go...as more things crop up, I'll let you know.
Don't expect a lot from me for another couple weeks...but ya never know...

Unveiling The Tattoo

R's tattoo in honor of his mother's passing.

Eckert's Fun Farm

Here are the pictures from our Pumpkin Picking Adventures......

The woman operating the ride took this facing into the sun--N loved it so much we rode it twice!

R took this one of us because the other was unclear.

He rode it.  He was pissed and upset the whole time.  He cussed me out for not 'saving' him, but it sure taught him about following through on what he wants and what he expects...I warned him he wouldn't like it, but that if he started it he'd have to finish.

E and me on Barney.  The best R could do trying to keep up w N on the ground.

The family camelid pic.

E finally petting a camel.

She's still in motion here at the mine shaft slide...

Updates Ready

I am not sure how much of this I can do right now.  My hands are bothering me, my left especially.  I can say old war injury, and mean it.  Mostly, it has to do w SBC operator services…you know, the things I don’t like to talk about, so heinous are they.  I will do my best, but no promises.  I reserve the right to babble until my hands no longer twitch—and then continue on at a later date…

First thing, I love to travel w my boyfriend.  Not just because he lets me sleep in his lap most of the time, but because he makes things so easy on and easy for everyone around him, all the time.  Not just on trips, but all the time.  Since I am on a detonation timer when traveling, as in my fuse gets wicked short, any kind of concession and thoughtfulness booms large.  Second, I am not much for traveling anymore.  Long distance, short distance.  Nah.  Not my thing.  Let me stay home.  Give me a horse.  Seriously.  Or let me walk.  Otherwise, I am not really much for it.  I am too worn out from it.  Trips here in town.  Trips across country, where time stands still as you fight to get from point A to point B in order to reach point Z before nightfall…drives me bonkers…

I am glad we did it though.  Even though I am a shop-a-holic, it was good to see Dad.  Very good to see Dad.  Although I feel like a complete schmuck for showing up, going shopping, loading a gorgeous motorcycle and then …splitting….but that is pretty much what I did.  E got to spend some quality time w Granddad.  I got to go shopping at my favourite stores, which include Ikea, the half priced bookstore, and Gabriel brothers. 

I learned not to use the Enterprise rent a car facility in Florissant on Lindbergh.  They have great customer service, when they are talking to you, but if you are waiting, you are pretty much non-existent.  We were lucky we made it out of town Friday night.  I won’t go into that right now, because it makes my head hurt too much to care about—and since everything worked out ok, why bother?

I learned Fords are not such bad vehicles as I was lead to believe, me being a die-hard Chevy girl.  I have to abandon Chevy utterly now that Ed Whiteacre is in control—he ran AT&T into the dirt—now he’s going to do the same to Chevy—and oh yes, as a former employee I am doing nothing more than expressing my true heart-felt opinion there—he could care less about anything than the all-mighty dollar. 

I digress…

I learned that Fords draw blood, as effectively as any knife.  Few is the blade that will pass up my blood.  This 2010 Ford F-150 was no exception.   I went to adjust my position in the seat and somehow reached in between the center seat and the passenger seat—and the truck punctured my thumb—rendering me incapable of knitting for the most part—although I did make a stop at Joann’s and bought some yarn and a crochet hook—seven though w the other issues w my hands I wasn’t all that able to do much….

I did manage to get R addicted to Ikea, so I am very happy.  Once the move is managed, we are getting a bed from there.  Which means I get to do some finagling w the beds here, as we have one more than we need—we just need a mattress and box spring for it.  Not to mention, the kids want bunk beds…so there is that to ponder as well.  We’ll see.  The other house is coming now, as we have nothing left to use as an excuse.

We have decided, it seems, to wait on moving in together, only, in my estimation, because of the way things went in his past.  He seems to feel moving this fast this soon with us somehow negates things that happened in the past w the last girlfriend.  He couldn’t and wouldn’t move in w her—and here we are, ready, willing and able—and I come w an entirely different set of baggage than she.  I will not say I have more baggage—and I mean the kids here for me—than she carries—because from what I know of her personally, her baggage far outweighs mine—and she has no children ……….we can conveniently blame the issue here on the older dog who has incontinence problems though….

So, we are looking for a house in the same area as R instead.  Anything other than this house right now.  Even before the trip to WV, the driving back and forth was wearing on my nerves.  Now, as I sit here, listening not only to the rain hitting the roof, but to the leaking of the water through the roof, that drives makes me grind my teeth….I have already told R I am on a mission now to find that other house.

Our deal stands at…the kids and I get our house close to him…we use both houses as leverage for the next, bigger house, once his job is more secure…and once he gets that better job…bigger house, more land…no holds barred.

It really sucks to live this far away from him, since he and I both sleep so much better in each other’s arms.  That is a really big issue.  Our insomnia without one another.  Living closer together will change that.

Snarf—it’s not as if we haven’t had keys to one another’s houses for years anyway. 

I learned…lady bugs can be tenacious.  We had one in the truck w us on the way home—it didn’t want to leave.  E says she found it (or one just like it) crawling on her arm after we got home last night.  Not the first time, but the whole we are done for the night time.  Maybe the lady bug or bugs just needed a change of scenery and we were a good mode of transportation there. 

Let’s see.

E wasn’t too bad, considering. She actually stayed awake most of the trip there and back.  Luckily, the front seat obscured her view, so keeping R up and attentive was not an issue.

Ford F-150s have lots of head room, lots of leg room.  Plenty of room for a nearly 6 feet tall woman to lay down with her head in the driver’s lap.  It made the drive much more interesting, when I wasn’t actually asleep in his lap.  And gods bless the man, R did let me sleep, in both directions, going there and coming home. 

I learned I am moderately competent and confident at driving, on roads I know well, in a vehicle with which I am comfortable, so long as traffic is not asinine.  And so long as the weather is clear. 

However, I also learned, I do not need to be driving for more than 20 minutes or so at a time.  I do not need to be driving if there is traffic, more than a very mild set of traffic.  If it rains, forget it.  Anything more than rain, you’re lucky I am riding in the car.  

So, I technically CAN drive; I just should not be driving with my children in the car.  It’s far far too stressful for me.  Put me in a vehicle I don’t know—and pray gods above and below that traffic behaves itself and I don’t have to do anything that makes me the least bit uncomfortable, like pulling out in a big truck around lots of construction equipment…I can’t do it.

YET—note—as soon as we got the virago, I sat down on it, and I swear that bike was made for me.  I cannot drive.  I do not know how to drive a motorcycle.  Traffic terrifies me.  And yet, I sat on that bike and knew she was mine.  All I have to do is get over my fears, learn how to drive a bike and get my license…and I am good to go.  She’s heavenly.

On the trip, we went to half priced books.  Oh boy—did I blow my spending limit there.  BUT—I did buy a bunch of movies---I made it to the clearance section, most of it anyway—I made it to the writer’s books—I made it to the knitting books—and then I was dragged away kicking and screaming, more or less…R and E were hungry…I even managed to grab a cd while we were being checked out…and, thanks to R, I got the teacher’s appreciation discount as well…which was good, since they over-charged  us on a couple books—and I bought 2 copies of one book (although E is very happy because it was a knitting book and she got the second copy…)….I did manage to procure one fiction book…thanks to the clearance section….the rest I am very much looking forward to reading.  I found one book and as soon as I saw the author, I didn’t even open the book.  Eric Maisel.  Boom, in the basket.  E got some very good stuff….R got some very cool stuff…N even got some neat stuff out of the deal, even though he didn’t go w us.

E got to eat at her most favourite Cracker Barrel—and they indeed did have the fire lit…although we sat too far away to see it.  She was still happy.

Gabe’s was an experience for me.  Never got to find N a pair of shoes.  Forgot to drop the fringed purse in the cart.  BUT—bought eight pairs of awesome jeans that are not just long enough for me, but are over-long for me.  I have a thirty-four inch inseam…well, fine, thirty-three and a half, roughly.  Finding pants that are just long enough is an issue.  Finding anything over long…a miracle.  I got some skinny over-long jeans.  I got some wide-legged jeans—which I absolutely adore for some reason—also over-long.  I bought a bunch of shirts, although not all at gabe’s.  I have all my basics covered for now, except maybe nice thick fuzzy socks—which I am planning to be making myself here soon…I bought clothes for N, because he has no pants here, and T is not known for sending much w him when he stays.  Since we are going more places these days, N needs to have more clothes here w us, and T doesn’t approve of sending much w N here, or much decent well-fitting stuff at all, so I took care of that.  I need to find him shoes, but we’ll wait and see what he is wearing this week-end when he comes.  It was too cold for his sandals when we saw him the week-end before this last week-end, but we’ll see.  That was the only response I got today when I emailed T to let him know we were back and what we got for N—that T had bought him shoes last week.  Gotta love that ability to almost communicate w that guy.

E got the coolest pants, black with all sorts of red and pink roses all over it.  She also got some adult t-shirts to wear as nightgowns.  If someone can explain the one-eyed monster called Norma Jean, I’d really appreciate it. She also got some scary skully shirts.  And a vampire t-shirt. 

I bought granny boots  And some cool high heeled moccasins.  And of course, clearance for Frederick’s of Hollywood lingerie and sleep shirts.  Awesome, awesome time.  Everybody got a little something.  From R, to me, to the kids, to the dog…everyone…

It was actually terrific today, except for the whole doing laundry, unpacking, sorting, shifting stuff outside of this—I got to clean out my closets again.  Which is actually a very liberating thing.  It’s kind of disturbing , how much I love to buy new clothes as I shift styles and lifestyles…and how much I love to throw out the old stuff that just sits here reminding me of days that will never come again (because I won’t let them).  If I had to work in an office atmosphere, I do have the clothes to pull it off….but not like I used to have.  Even with all the stuff I bought, which is all much more me than the stuff I tossed today, I still ended up tossing more stuff than I bought—not to mention—I still have WAY WAY less than I had when we moved in here…the whole hoarding instinct is going away…even though I am not giving up my pack rat status.

I had so much more to say.  It’s late.  I’m tired.  I had a very long day.  My day today covered most of the trip costs, except the shopping sprees. 

Oh, we inherited fish.  We have three male mollies hanging out in a bucket here in my bedroom.  Dad gave us the five gallon and the ten gallon tanks.  What’s funny is just how good a thing it was he told me he was planning to give us the tanks…because I was contemplating buying a tank.  I was thinking just a small five gallon tank for the beta, and a ground crew for him.  But the betta, well, the betta passed.  I think we can safely say the waters grew too cold…although technically it wasn’t that cold…but that’s the excuse I gave when the kid found out that we no longer had a betta, so that’s the one I am sticking to about this.  What I wanted was more along the lines of a twenty or twenty-five gallon tank.  Some tiger barbs of various colours.  And bottom feeders as well.

So, here we are, with three male mollies.  Waiting for the waters to cycle through so the boys can find their new home, which is technically their old home, all redone. 

Originally, there were four fish coming home with us.  Originally, there was Big Boy.  He was a leopard botia.  The last remaining fish from MD.  He had grown large and fat.  He grew this way by eating everything else in the tank, except these three rather traumatized mollies.  He had his own bucket for the trip.  We never even pulled him out of his cave either.  I picked up the cave, out of the ten gallon tank.  He refused to budge.  I dropped him, cave and all, into the water filled bucket.  He did fine the first part of the trip.  He was alive and perky when we got to the hotel in Dayton.  There was a mighty splash the next morning.  When we checked the bucket later, there was dead fish.  I would like to say I was saddened by this, but I cannot.  All I could think of was, oh good, now I don’t have to worry about him snarfing anyone up as his dinner or anything.  Now, I am missing him a little more, now that I have discovered that botias eat snails…and we have snails….my quandary now is…do we buy more botia and risk another Big Boy who eats everyone and everything…or do we find something else that finds snails appetizing and try our luck there?  Hmm.  We’ll have to see…I haven’t decided yet. 

All I know now is we have to buy some female mollies.  Now that the boys are not running for their lives, they are going to start running after each other in the whole dominance play they have.  Too few females and the boys will run them ragged.  Will literally kill them in their over-zealous approach to reproduction.  So, two girls for every boy, just to keep things fair. 

But, we also need bottom dwellers, snail eaters of no.  And a single solitary plecto.  Yuck.  I am not a huge fan of the plecto.  Although they do serve their purpose.  We have live plants in the tanks, so algae is not a problem.  The plants take care of that.  But E must have her plecto…so I shall give it to her.

The five gallon tank needs a new light bulb.  E wants guppies.  The original plan was to keep the mollies in the five gallon tank, and let E breed her guppies to her heart’s content in the ten gallon.  No light bulb means no fish in that tank, even though we are going tomorrow to get a light bulb.  After R gets off of work.  Now, I have many ideas wandering through my head about that five gallon.  No reason not to get a couple corey cats and a betta for that tank.  The betta would be a happy camper.  We’ll have to see what strikes me the right way tomorrow in the pet store.

Any recommendations for online aquarium places would be greatly appreciated.  I do fresh water only.  I don’t care for buying fish sight unseen.  I just want a good place to get decent equipment without paying an arm and a leg.  I wasn’t planning to set up aquariums in this house, especially not with the move so close to happening right now.  But since we have tanks and fish, I am letting my inner aqua-fiend loose.  I have ideas.  They were working fairly well in other tanks, long long ago, but I was never able to really let go of everyone else’s pre-conceived notions about things and do things my way…I can now though—and I am looking forward to it.

The ex has friends who are raising discus fish, if anyone is interested.  Let me know if you are and I will get you contact information for them.  Don’t look at me for discus though.  E gets her mollies and guppies—live bearers.  Sigh.  Once we move, I am getting a larger tank.  I want a tank for my tiger barbs.  I want another tank for my angel fish.  I will be more than happy to give mollies and guppies away.  But then again, I am not against having an Oscar raised up on guppies and mollies either.  I might not have had tanks for awhile, but I am still my Pappap’s grand-daughter—I have no problem having many many tanks all around.  Although mine will be full of lots of different things….

Ahh, the planning stages of things…

I have to remember to ask Dad what the plants are we inherited.  I know the duck weed.  But there is a fern and another frondy thing too.  I’d like to know what the frondy thing is.  All the plants are free-floaters at the moment.  The frondy things have roots that seem to want to be planted, but after the cross-country move for everyone, I have no desire to plant things.  Let them acclimate for awhile and we’ll see afterwards.

I spared a glance around my room, as it is late and I still have a lot to do.  I caught sight of those high heeled moccasin shoes…and all I could think was…it’s so great to be a girl.  Those shoes.  One certain pair of jeans and any top I want…killer….I love it….

Alas, I have so much to do … just to be able to get into bed….much less the other things I need to do tonight to post things….

I have to get busy.

This is my trip update.  I reserve the right to re-visit things as they come to mind.  Not to mention, all the issues I had typing this up tonight.  I think I did rather well.

Thanks for listening….