fight

Husband and I had a fight Saturday night. We hardly ever fight, we hardly ever even get snippy with each other, unless he's drinking or I'm hormonal. We had both going on this weekend. Not good. 

There was a baseball game on the tv Saturday right as he got off work. We were playing our biggest rival, so he went up to our favorite bar, grabbed a stool, and proceeded to drink about 4 Miller lites  before I got there. I had been shopping with my mom all day and hadn't eaten any lunch, so screw the game, I needed food. But being a nice little wifey, I sat and watched the last two innings with him. 

I think I create problems sometimes. I know I do. The whole time we were there I was counting his drinks. He doesn't drink often, but when he does he has trouble stopping himself, and the more he has the less like himself he gets. He gets angry or rude or brash when normally he's sweet and charming. So I know he saw me counting those drinks, watching him like a hawk. And in my mind I'm building up to this big blow up, just knowing it's coming. Whether it is or isn't, in my mind it's a sure thing, and I think that makes it happen.

But he knows he's like that and does nothing to stop it. So we're both to blame.

As we were leaving, trying to decide on dinner, a woman passed us presumably looking for a parking spot. He tried to wave to her to show her we were leaving so she could have our spot (there's that sweet charming guy), but she didn't see us, and an angry mean man came out. He called her (and no she couldn't hear or see us, but that's not the point) a bitch and a fat cow. WOW. So I called him on it, of course I did, looked him in the face and told him that wasn't appropriate. He took offense at my taking offense, saying that he was just blowing off steam, he wouldn't have said it if she could hear us, and what difference did it make to me.

The difference that it makes to me is that THAT is not my husband. That is not the man I married, and I hate that man. That man is the type of man that I've dated before, with no regard for feelings, angry at nothing, spewing hate misdirected. I don't want to know him and I don't want to see him. But he comes out of no where and it scares me.

I tried to explain this, but my super-rational anyone who's not as rational and logical as me is wrong husband doesn't get this feelings crap, and so he never quite understands me. Almost but never all the way. He kept saying that she couldn't hear so what difference did it make, and I said I could hear, and it makes a difference to me. We went back and forth like that for a while. I wasn't going to apologize for getting mad him for at his comments. I think any normal woman would have gotten mad there. I apologized for being in a not-so-good mood at the bar and allowed that maybe that didn't help things. But he would not apologize. He never apologizes. When he does, it's an I'm sorry you're angry, not an I'm sorry for what I did. What is it with men, especially so-called logical men like him, and not admitting they're wrong?

Am I completely out of line here? Did I overreact? I'm known to do that a few days before ol' Auntie Flow visits. 

But I guess if this is our biggest problem, we're doing all right comparatively. It was forgotten the next day. Mostly.

numb

I can feel my bones. They creak and groan like a rusty door hinge, no soft connections to ease them. My flesh and muscle, my sinew down to the bone is lifeless. I'm a skeleton walking. I'm numb and cold and hard. Pinch me and I won't make a peep; I won't feel it. I look at the world through hollow cavities, colors and light and movement shocking to my slow-motion thoughts, and I struggle to comprehend. I feel rail thin and brittle, but bloated at once, like a cheek after a dentist's injection, feeling swollen and looking ordinary. I poke myself to make sure I'm ordinary, but feel nothing. My stomach, I can feel my stomach, roiling and curdling, protesting its contents. Belches taste like soap and syrup, making the curdling worse, feeling at any moment I could lose those contents, knowing that it wouldn't make it better if I did. My head is full of air. I'm a bubble, a dry bubble ready to pop, releasing nothing but dust. Questions float by me like dandelion seeds in the wind, and I'm mesmerized by their grace but lost by their meaning. I'm surprised I can form semi-complete thoughts, but the surprise is dulled, like a rubber mallet on splintering wood.

Scrubbing shampoo onto my scalp this morning, I felt sleepy but fine for a Monday. When I opened my eyes, the shampoo bottle had escaped my sight, unless I turned my head sideways to see it. My husband brought me my pill, my little sweet release from the pain, that find the coldest floor in the darkest room, curl up and try not to sob because it makes it worse pain, and I swallowed knowing the day was lost anyway. That sweet release pushes me into a world of fog and dullness, stupidity and slowness, brittle and cold, like freezing rain on what should have been a bright and sunny day. I welcome it and hate it. 

cape cod kind of night

I'm having the first of probably a few Cape Cods (i.e. cranberry vodkas) tonight. It's been one hell of a day to match one hell of a week. If I keep up at this rate I'm going to have carpal tunnel by the time I'm 30. 

People are such idiots sometimes, and I have two examples to share that I witnessed, one right after the other, on the way home. 

First-- a college girl: think blond, hair pulled up in a messy "I just got out of bed and I'm too cool for a brush" bun on the top of her hair, her huge bug-eyed sunglasses practically vibrating with her loud music, dog in her lap with his head out the window. One of her hands on the steering wheel and the other holding a cell phone to her ear, although I don't know how she hears anyone over her stereo. Her car is too nice for her to have bought for herself at her age, but there she is, treating it and her life and her dog's life like nothing, like she's such a good driver not only does she not need to concentrate, but she can do it one handed while contending with drool and puppy claws. You know who I feel sorry for there? The dog. And us other drivers.

Second-- two more girls, also blonds surprisingly, in shorts and t-shirts on a scooter, i.e. no protective body gear whatsoever, one helmet between the two of them. I guess they're sharing a brain too, so only one helmet is really needed. The driver tosses her un-helmeted hair around at a stop-sign, begging for whistles. What's their excuse to their parents when they kill themselves? But Daddy, we were only going a mile and a half.

I catch myself glaring at people like this, wondering how they can take their lives into their own hands like that, so nonchalantly, so brazenly and yet ignorantly. It makes me angry, because they're endangering me too. 

Wow I need to let my husband mix my drinks from now on when I'm in a mood like this. Off to sit in the sun on my deck for a while. 

too good to be true?

Things in my life have been going very smoothly lately.

I'm a firm believer that we make our own luck, and as a part of that, our reactions to events in our lives dictate greatly our overall way of being. If you're naturally negative, even the smallest disturbance can turn a whole day sour, and a bunch of sour days can lead to a depression. While if you're positive, it takes something huge to upset your day, and even the largest of events can still only affect you as much as you let it. So I try very hard to be a positive person, not sweating the small stuff and such. It doesn't always work. I am human.

This is a new revelation for me, relatively new anyway, contained to the last couple of years. So perhaps this new way of thinking and being has me confused, because it seems to me as if nothing "bad" has happened lately. Oh, there have been small things, like complaining clients, slight sicknesses, traffic congestion, etc.-- the kinds of things that a lot of people let affect their mood too much. (Road rage? Really? Just put in a good cd. Problem solved.) Maybe because I'm not letting these small things affect me anymore I feel as if it's eerily quiet around here. 

I've struggled in my life. That sounds so cliche-- who hasn't? Lately, though, I'm content: job, husband, family, health, finances... it's all going so well. Which makes me think (old me, the me that would focus on how wrong and sad and screwed-up the world is) that this is just the calm before the storm, the build-up to the let-down.

As I mentioned in my previous post, my neighbor is dying. I can't help but think, what did he do to deserve that? What did his precious family do? Nothing. I suppose bad things just happen. How can they just happen, though, how can you be floating along, white sails facing the sun, and then bam your husband is seriously ill and bam he's dead, you're alone, with four boys under age ten. 

As solid as I am sometimes, something like that would ruin me. I feel it, I know it would. I can't lose my husband or my parents. I value my positivity because I know no matter what happens, I'm still me and I'm still ok... that is until I think about the worst thing that could happen. Me includes the three of them because I'm not me without them, Ok means having them in my life on a daily basis. How are humans capable of understanding and negotiating that much grief without completely crumbling under the weight of it, like a sandcastle at high tide?

But that's a worst-case scenario, and that's old me thinking about all the bad things that could happen instead of focusing on what actually is happening. I guess that's the trick, live it up while you can, absorb all the good and joy into yourself, like water into a sea sponge, while it's here and you've got your fingers wrapped around it.

That makes me want to go wrap my fingers and my arms around that husband of mine. It's almost five o'clock, isn't it?

Grateful Thursday

1) My husband is amazing. Not only is he handsome and sweet to me, yesterday he cleaned the WHOLE HOUSE. It was his day off, and on our days off we get to do whatever we want, with chores being done together on Sunday. But yesterday he mopped and vacuumed every floor, dusted every surface, cleaned the kitchen and the dishes, scrubbed the bathrooms, sorted through all the mail and clutter everywhere, and did all the laundry, dried and folded and put away. Simply amazing-- do you know how nice it was to come home to a completely spotless house? I almost didn't want to cook last night or get ready in the bath this morning for fear of messing it up!

2) Low interest rates. We've decided to refinance our house, and our sweet little mortgage lady said that we could either refinance and stay with a 30 year loan and save $260 a month, or (this sounds better to me) refinance to a 20 year loan and still save nearly $100 a month. That's with about $2000 in closing costs, but we've got that, and we'd make it back in savings in a year and a half and still cut 10 years off our loan. I'm so happy about that!

3) A good meal tonight, that I don't have to cook, with very good friends. And my new camera that I'm taking with me.

4) My health and my husband's health, and my parent's health too. My neighbor is lying in a hospice in Florida today, dying. He's in his 40s, his wife is so sweet, and they have 4 little blond-haired boys. He has cancer, colon I believe, but I never asked. It seemed intrusive. They've been gone for two weeks now, but the wife's mom told me yesterday she's going down to get the boys. He's not talking anymore and they don't want the boys to see the very end. So very, very sad.

5) Some actual work to do today. I've got some typing to do. I was bored yesterday. But I'm hoping when my boss said "that little black box of paper in my office needs retyping" he didn't mean the huge shoebox with 8-inches deep of paper. It will take me a year! I think he just means part. Got to figure out which part now.

earth day giveaway!

Hey everyone, just a quick note to say Earth Day is coming up soon! It's on April 22nd. I don't know about you, but I've been into "going green" since the days when being green meant being like Kermit. I think the most important work of my generation is and will be saving our earth from ourselves. One of the biggest ways you or anyone can help without having to make any huge sacrifices is by using canvas bags instead of paper or plastic at the grocery or any other stores you visit. I just keep several in my car so I know I always have them with me. 

Maegan, an awesomely stylish and smart blogger over at loveMaegan.com, also creates these great canvas bags, and for Earth Day she's going to be giving some away! Visit her website for information here. All you have to do is comment on her that blog post. 

So cute! I really like the Pony Up and Plastic Shmastic bags. Way better than the cheap navy blue canvas Kroger bags I use now. Hmmm... maybe I don't want you to enter... maybe I want to win....

ungrateful Wednesday?

I'm glad it's not Thursday because I'm not grateful for much today. The entire state is under a green cloud on the tv, and my eyes fluttered every time I heard the drip drip drip drip outside my window last night. There wasn't much sleep to be had. Plus my head hurts. What is it about rain, about changing pressure systems, that makes my right eyebrow feel like a ten pound sand bag? Why does no one else seem to get these headaches? My husband claims to have never had a headache in his life, but I get them any and every time a new weather system pushes through.

I also got a bit of a chastisement in an email this morning. It was directed at everyone, but especially at me because I'm in charge of this. Apparently one of our clients feels neglected, like we're not answering their emails in a timely fashion. I searched back through my emails and don't have any open questions for them, so I'm not completely sure what they're talking about, plus I emailed one of them three times last week for a bit of information I needed and still don't have the answer. But I'm not going to say it, no I'm not. I'm biting my tongue. It distracts from the headache too.

There's a local gourmet restaurant here we like-- they use locally grown ingredients and always have a fish and a veggie option on the menu which changes every two weeks. They're doing a wine tasting paired with a set menu tomorrow night, and husband wants to go, but three out of the five courses are meat based. I hate to be that person, that annoying uppity particular person who emails the chef and asks for a different menu. I'm not high maintenance, and high maintenance people generally annoy me, but I guess I've required myself to be in food situations since I've chosen not to eat meat. 

Can't you just see me, sitting in my stupid pleather desk chair, arms crossed, low eyebrows drawn together, pouting my big lips, my hair wet in the back and frizzy in the front. I look how I feel. I'm such a whiner sometimes. 

I just checked husband's email, and the chef says he'll substitute the meat for me. So nice, no complaining at all. So I guess I am grateful for that.

The Adventures of Bub, Chapter One: The Deerslayer

Bub, known slayer of all trespassers big and small, spots his newest foe: the Deer. "Don't let the cuteness fool you," he thinks. "They are in our yard, nonchalantly nibbling on our grass... look at them, no idea what trouble they're in for now that I have spotted them."

He's off like lightning, growling fiercely and and barking as loudly as he can manage. He's so quick on his muscular little legs he becomes a black and white blur. The frightened deer hardly have time to react before he's on them-- they turn white-tail and run for the cover of the woods. "Out, out, out of my domain! Before I eat you! I will protect my mother!"
And so the deer hop and scramble away from the fearsome Bub into the woods, only their bright tails giving away their location as they melt into the trees. "Yeah, you're lucky there's this black barrier here, or I would have you, I would. I'll stand here and bark for another five minutes, pacing this line, just to make sure you're really good and gone."

Once the Deerslayer decides the coast is clear and does his usual business (or maybe once he forgets the deer where ever even there) he saunters back up to the door, full of pride and energy. "Ok, Mommy, I'm ready to come in now! Woof! Where are you?"

stray dogs

What do you do when you see a stray dog walking along a road or highway? Do you stop? Stop only if it looks friendly or really lost? Keep on going and think about it for miles? Not even notice?

I just passed a little black and tan shepherd mix on the side of a busy highway. It was too busy for me to stop-- I couldn't slow down fast enough, and to get back to it on the next exit would have taken too long. It was just sitting there, looking lonely. I keep thinking about him, can't get him out of my mind.

Husband's home. I wonder if he saw him. He goes that way too.

me

Ok, here I am. You talked me into it. I don't suppose anyone can search for me by a picture anyway, so as long as I leave my name off, no creepy stalker types can find me. (I do think that keeping this anonymous keeps me honest-- for instance, if I knew my husband (who knows I blog) or my father or any real world friends were reading this, I'd feel like I had to edit my words for them.)

Without further ado, this is me. The first one is from last month, a Valentine's Day ball for the Heart Association. Because I don't normally look that good, I'm tempering it with one of me sitting in the office today, with my I-came-with-wet-hair and a t-shirt look. 

*photos taken down because I didn't want to leave them up too long