So the last post, Mr. W and I were basically done.  Finished.  *sniff* Over.  Long story short, I begged and pleaded, we agreed to give it another go, had fabulous make-up sex, and were happy again.   But then that evil wedding monster started climbing back out of its hole and gnawing at our ankles.  Money, stress.  Stress, money.  Planning, planning, planning.  MELTDOWN!  After 2 anxiety attacks in less than a week, Mr. W was ready to commit me, or at the very least heavily medicate me!

Last night we agreed to call the whole thing off.  We would attempt to get some of the money back that we’d put in, but were ok if it didn’t work out that way.  Better to have our sanity and each other than to sink even more money into something we may not both survive to even see.  (I’m being a little dramatic here…a little…)  The biggest problem was the $800 in non-refundable, non-transferable plane fare that his mom just shelled out for the trip here.  She’s not as much in a place to be just “ok” with losing that kind of money.  But, we intended to pay her back, re-compensate anyone else who put any significant amount of money into this whole fiasco, and call it a day.  And then, somewhere down the line, when the stars align and the moon is full and Earth is in the shadow of Mars on the third Saturday of an even month…  we would elope.  Or rather, Mr. W’s version of eloping which includes all four kids, my mom to take care of the kids, probably his mom because she’s always wanted to go to Vegas, my dad because, hey, LA is just right there, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.  Can you say “lots of money?”  So not the point.  But that was to be discussed at a later, more suitable (i.e. less stressful) time.

Then it hit me:

We probably aren’t going to get a refund on the venue or the photographer.  Mom-n-fam’s plane tickets are lost without use on THAT weekend (damn Delta and their jacked up policies to steal money…), and neither of us really want to break the news to our families.  Why not reduce our evil wedding monster with a guest list of over 100 people back to a small, informal, family only affair that we both had pictured in the back of our minds to begin with.  Damn wedding industry and their manipulative, more-is-better-and-less-is-crap ways!  So I put it to Mr. W………………and he smiled again!  All planning can be done by the end of next week.  There is a kitchen at the venue, so we can cook a family style meal, set up 2 or 3 tables (instead of 14, plus buffet tables, plus DJ table…..) and have a small ceremony in the garden with our $100 minister.  I get my fancy pictures.  He gets the Wal-Mart special paper plates.  Our families get to meet, and we all get to smile together.  We don’t lose the money, and we don’t lose our minds (or each other) in the process.  Case closed.  Happy again. 

Now I just have to figure out how to tell all our friends…damn wedding industry and their etiquette and “things to do.”  Stupid “Save-the-Date” cards!

This may be my last at-work written blog post for awhile, well at least this will be the last week I’m able to blog at work.  Not that I’ve been writing much lately anyway, but…

I’ve been ridiculously busy, with the ever impending wedding and the total lack of preparation on my part, with my multiple tasks with “yesterday,” or completely non-existent, deadlines, with a house that, 2 months after we moved in, is still in no way, shape, or form organized…or even completely unpacked, and with a new, short-ish notice transfer to a different department that I still haven’t gotten a straight answer on when it’s actually supposed to happen. 

While I am totally stoked about the transfer (it gives me multiple opportunities for learning new things, expanding my skill set, and therefore resume, and a promise of a pretty decent raise in the nearrrrrrr-ish future), I am not totally stoked about my office-mates’ reactions to my move.  Not everyone, mind you.  My actual friends are truly happy for me.  They share at least somewhat in my excitement, and at the very least support me in this whole thing.  My actual friends are, as always, wonderful.  But then there are those who I thought were my friends.  Silly me! 

Friend.  How do you define it?   Dictionary.com says:

Well, in regards to my current work-mates, 1 and 2 just go out the door.  3 is iffy on any given day.  4 is passable, and 5, well, let’s just leave 5 out of this.  In all honesty, I wouldn’t have previously called all of my work-mates “friends,” otherwise why would I refer to them as “work-mates?”  But I did previously call many of them friends, and those are the ones whose recent attitude, reaction, whatever is bothering me the most.  Are we really that far removed?  Is this comraderie that we share really that shallow?  Or is it simply petty immaturity?  Or maybe I’m being ridiculously oversensitive…NO!  That’s not even a possibility! 

Let me explain.  On-again-off-again friendships around here happen often.  Whatever.  It’s the nature of the beast.  But suddenly, coincidentally coinciding directly with the news of my move, I’m getting a severe case of the cold shoulders everywhere I turn.  There is no polite conversation.  There is no “how was your weekend.”  There isn’t even eye contact.  And I swear whenever I walk into a room, out to the smoke pit, towards an area where any group or individual is hovering, said group or individual scatters at my presence.  What the F is that about?  Really?  I’m going to a different office so now you have NOTHING to say to me?  We can’t be pseudo-friends?  You can’t even manage a polite “hello”?  I give up.

I’ve decided I’m past the point of caring…but really I’m not.  Not even a little.  It hurts, people.  These are people I’ve spend the most time with over the last 3 or so years.  These are the people I’ve had actual conversations with on a daily basis (til now).  Most of these people I thought I could depend on in a pinch, call if I was in trouble, reach out to for help…but yeah, apparently not so much.  I don’t make friends easily.  I don’t open up often.  I don’t trust many.  And for anyone that I consider a friend or that I open up to or trust, even a little, to suddenly, inexplicably just cut off all interaction…it feels like a punch to the gut.  And there are multiples of them. 

Ah, well…this too shall pass, right?  Moving on and moving up and all that other happy horse-shit.  No biggie.  I’m a big girl and I’ve lived through much worse in  my life than a few hurt feelings.  Hmmm…maybe there’s still time to save some money on the headcount for the wedding….

Happy New Year!

So I’ve been slacking on, like, everything.  Seriously.  EVERYTHING.  And I need to stop.  I can make a buh-gillion excuses as to why I’ve been slacking, but it all comes down to this: 

I’m still slacking. 

And it needs to stop.

So my New Year’s resolution?  To stop slacking, of course!  I know, I know.  There is all the well-intentioned advice out there about not making vague resolutions.  “Be specific and you are more likely to succeed,” they say.  Well, “they” aren’t me, so…yeah.  Besides, I can be specific in my Ways Of Not Slacking, or WONS for short.  You know, like “wins” but in the past tense so it’s like I’ve already won.  Positive thinking at its best!

My things to end the slack on, or WONS:

• Smoking.  I need to stop the slack on quitting smoking.  Nuff said.
• Medicine.  I need to stop the slack on my meds.  I’ve been so busy trying to pretend I’m not sick that I’ve all but given up on all my “feel better” supplements and stuff.  And guess what?  I’m not feeling any better!
• Organization and planning.  I need to stop the slack on being organized.  There is one more class until I graduate, a move, and a wedding in my near future and if I’m going to get it all done without landing in the loony bin, I’m going to have to do some serious brushing up on those O and P skills.
• Speaking of the wedding.  I need to stop the slack on wedding planning.  With the recent addition of my dear friend and maid-o-honor, C, to my locale, the wedding planning, or lack there of, has been coming up in conversation a lot.  9 months, no budget set, no venue, no dress, no plans.  oops.  Well, at least I know the colors…maybe…possibly…
• Sleeping.  I need to stop the slack on my sleep.  I should be getting at least 8 hours.  It would be better if I got 9 or 10, under my present health condition.  I’m lucky if I give myself 6.  It’s gotta stop! 
• Name change.  I need to stop the slack on changing my name.  While I won’t be changing my name to “Mrs. W” when we get married, I should probably complete the name change process from my last marriage, which officially ended, oh, about 9 months ago. 
• Nutrition.  I need to stop the slack on good nutrition.  My kids need it.  I desperately need it.  Mr. W needs it.  Healthy food makes for healthy, happy bodies, makes for healthy, happy minds, makes for healthy, happy people.  I can do it…and so I must.
• Me.  I need to stop the slack on me.  I need to stop doing the things that make me feel like crap (smoking, not resting enough, getting behind on everything, eating like crap) and start doing things that make me feel good (supplements, acupuncture, massage, exercise, meditation, eating and sleeping well…hell, even getting a pedicure if it will make me sit and rest for an hour!) 

It’s a full circle.  If I can concentrate on the little bits, the overall picture will get better.  If I can work on me, all those around me will reap the rewards.  A rested mommy wants to play more.  A happy fiancee d0esn’t bite your head of for little no reason.  An emotionally sound friend can be there when you need her.  A healthy daughter can save leave for vacations and visits instead of using it on sick days. 

The guilt of how I’ve been treating my loved ones weighs heavily on me.  The guilt of how I’ve been treating myself does too.  If I can stop the slack, just one small thing at a time, the “WONS” will really be WON!

I’ve been playing hooky from my blog lately.  Not exactly sure why.  Maybe I’m tired of whining about how I feel.  Maybe I’m having some guilt about blogging when there are a MILLION other things I should be doing that I’m just not.  Maybe I’m being lazy.  Whatever it is, maybe I’m over it.  Maybe I’m not. 

So how do I feel I (don’t) hear you ask.  Well.  Lyme disease sucks.  It really does.  Physically, I have more bad days than good days.  There is pain, pretty much everywhere.  Some days it’s not so bad.  Some days it’s excruciating.  Think of a body part…yeah, it hurts there too.  So that’s fun.  Also, there is the “floaters,”  the harmless little black lines and spots everyone has in their eyes from time to time.  Only, mine are multiplying like horny rabbits and are always there.  Seriously, the words on my computer screen are dancing right now.  It makes reading anything very difficult.  And a new addition to the eye thing: now there are white, or bright spots along with the black spots.  It must be similar to what celebrities see after being flashed with a thousand flashbulbs on a regular basis.  My ears, constantly ringing.  Constantly.  It’s like after going to a really good rock concert, only I don’t get the perk of actually going to a really good rock concert.  It makes me very sensitive to sounds.  Annoying sounds are that much more annoying.  Loud sounds are that much louder and more grating.  Even whisper sounds drive me nuts.  I’m seriously craving a sensory deprivation chamber right about now, but all my problems are internal, so that probably wouldn’t work anyway.  I’m nauseous, and my appetite fluctuates between famished and I never want to eat again.  I almost always have a headache.  At the moment (I think) I am developing a nasty cold, since I’m stuffy about 50% of the time and there is a golfball-sized lump where my left lymph node should be in my neck.  My hands and feet swell randomly.  I’m tired and achy when I wake up in the morning, every morning.  After my shower (at $5 per shower thanks to needing a 6×6 tagaderm patch just to take a shower…gift ideas anyone?) and coffee, I am fairly awake for about 2 hours, then back to sheer exhaustion until I finally make it to bed at night.  I have cotton mouth pretty much all the time thanks to the pain meds, which don’t full work.  I get horrible stomach and muscle cramps thanks to the antibiotic infusions every 12 hours.  And now I’m on ADHD meds for the severe memory lapses and brain fog, so who knows what kind of side effects that will bring.  The antibiotics are also bringing about all the “normal” antibiotic side effects: candida, indigestion, digestive issues, upset stomach, etc, etc.  Probiotics are holding it off to a tolerable level, but then that just adds another couple pills a day to choke down.  Yea! 

Then there is the emotional stuff.  Long term pain = depression, of some sort or another.  I’m cranky most of the time, which I very unfairly take out on Mr. W (who is taking this all very well considering) and my kids, unfortunately.  (If only the ex-men would call more often to take the brunt of the crank!)  I’m feeling extremely unattractive, undesirable, un-everything thanks to a new, very short hair cut that I’m really  not liking (the showering thing, it only made sense to make my “getting ready” routine as easy as possible),  the bloat/weight gain that makes it difficult and uncomfortable to get dressed in anything but sweats, and, oh yeah, there’s the 4 inch long tube sticking out of my chest, just above my left boob, which requires wearing a sports bra to bed every night, and I’m already pretty flat in that area.  Like I need the extra compression.  My upper body has become a no fly zone, and with my flat-chested sports bra “lingerie” and my extremely short hair, I’m feeling more an more like a boy in the bedroom.  Not so great for the “mood,” at least on my part anyway.

Aren’t you glad you asked? 

Beyond the Lyme, I’m prepping for Christmas, which incidentally will be held over New Years in my house as the kidlets are with their dads this year.  Money is tight, but on-line shopping has provided me with some fantastic deals over the last couple months.  Yea for being proactive in something. 

Mr. W got a new job, starting just after Christmas.  Fortunately it’s like a 40% pay raise and in the field he loves.  Unfortunately, his office is about a 1 1/2 hour commute each way, even with public transportation, and his hours may be sporadic due to the type of work he will be doing.  So he won’t be home much during the week.  But we will be moving somewhere near the middle in the early Spring, and hopefully his new connections up there will throw out some info on jobs in my field of work and then we can move all the way up there.  I’m not planning on changing jobs any time soon…well at least until after I A) graduate, also early spring, and B) get the tube out of my chest and resolve all of my health issues.  “Nice to meet you on my first day of work.  By the way, I’m going to need to work a half day once a week so I can meet my home nurse, and I need at least 2 days off a month for doctors visits, and will probably average 1 other day off a week for just general sickness, and that doesn’t even touch any kid-related time off…thanks for the job.”  Yeah, I’m sure that would go over well with a new or potential employer. 

And speaking of new jobs, one of my best girlfriends is starting today at her new job, here, with me.  Yea!!  We met briefly in basic training (different squadrons there), and went on to Tech school together.  Although we were in different classes for the same career field, we had the same circle of friends and lived in the same hall.  We went to our first base together and managed to work out being roommates there.  Our friendship didn’t do so well in the dorm setting.  She was a party girl and I grew tired of that pretty fast as I was more interested in boys, and yes I do mean boys.  Looking back, I had pretty shitty taste in males!  I married ex #1, despite her loathing of him and warnings about him.  I even left her off the guest list to our wedding.    Anyway, we both eventually transferred and went on with our lives.  You know my story.  She went over-seas.  Grew up a lot.  Had a son.  Moved back stateside, and we reconnected about 5 years later, our friendship re-growing on a much more adult level.  Long story short, she was looking for more security for her and her boy, and my office was looking for more reliable new employees.  I introduced the two and wa-la.  She starts today.  All around, it’s great.  I have a close friend who is actually geographically close.  My kids and her son get along great, and they all have had a shortage of “at home” friends up to this point in their lives.  And she’s getting the security and benefits she needs for her and her son, while working decent hours.  I get a reliable, hard co-worker among a group of (mostly) assholes and slackers.  Win-win-win all around!

So that’s that.  I’m successfully dizzy from watching the letters dance on my screen, my fingers are starting to tingle from actually using them.  And I need a smoke and a coffee refill.  Oh, yeah, and I should probably get to at least one of those previously mentioned MILLION things I need to get done, like, yesterday.

Just in case I slack on the blog again for a while…

I’ve been itching for something more, not even lately, but forever.  It’s not that I would ever act on the itch, or that I’m not happy with what, or more specifically who I have, but there is the itch, nonetheless. 

I think about my childhood.  I was the kid who traveled the world, literally.  I had flown around the world 3 times by the time I was 16.  I had lived in England and visited several other countries before I even hit my teen years.  I could speak Chinese when I was 5, and I could understand just about any accent latched on to English, no matter how thick. 

In high school I was dreaming about adventure and grandeur.  I was not ready to settle in any area of my life.  I had a hard time deciding what I wanted to do with my life, not for lack of ambition, but rather for the multitude of options the world offered me.  But in my arrogance, I turned my nose up to so many opportunities… –Modeling in Japan, all expenses paid?  Medical school of my choice, tuition paid?  Traveling the world for a living?  Language school in Monteray, California, followed by two years in Paris? –

Even after I joined the military, my dreams were still in world travel and adventure.  My career was supposed to take me to new places, show me new things, give me new stories.  So how did I become the ex-military, divorcee mom living in a town (not a city, but a TOWN) in the US, rarely leaving my state?

Social networking sites like Facebook, Myspace, and Twitter have opened doors for keeping up with those you would have normally lost along the way.  I follow many of my old school-mates, mostly just dropping in to see what they are doing, and I’m jealous.  My best friend in 8th grade is working in China right  now, but her job has taken her all over the world.  A close friend from 9th grade has pictures of Israel and Jerusalem and France and who knows where else filling his virtual albums.  A friend from most of high school just got married, in Spain, in a beautiful Cathedral and several of our other friends were there with her, and she’s now living in Tunisia.  I have friends who graduated from MIT, Cornell, Harvard, Berkley, Stanford, and  NYU, not to mention ones who have gone to college in Europe, all landing fabulous jobs right after.  I have friends who are successful entrepreneurs, growing their dream businesses from nothing to fruitful.  I have friends in most of the major cities in the US, and some of the biggest business and cultural meccas around the world.  They consist of lawyers and doctors and international businessmen and women and engineers and peace corps workers and professional bicyclists and actors and researchers and bank vice presidents and people that work for the Department of State and Amazon.com and .  What the hell happened to me?  And this is why I did not attend my high school reunion…

Many people say things like:  “I can’t imagine life without my kids,” or “I don’t know what I would do without my kids.”  Well, I can and I do.  Does that make me a bad person?  I love my kids unconditionally.  I adore my kids completely.  If given the choice now, I wouldn’t give them up for anything.  And they do make me happy.  But I can still imagine what my life would be like if I had never turned down that road of marriage and mommy-hood.  Well, I can at least imagine myself nestled deeply in each of the few dozen options that the world would once again lay before me. 

I would learn to surf, while living a simple life in a crappy shack on the beach, making next to nothing, but needing even less.  Just me and nature, coming together…

I would see the world, taking pictures of all the beauty it holds, submitting things to publications like National Geographic, needing nothing but some good shoes and my camera…

I would learn to cook, dedicate my time and money to the best culinary school around, working hard to make it through a grueling kitchen while mastering cuisine from around the world…

I would spend months in an Ashram in India, finding my true self, away from the distractions of life…

I would study archeology, making discoveries about past and lost civilizations, finding priceless treasures in knowledge… 

I would finish school, finish grad school, and be anything I wanted to be…

I could help the world…

Of course, I would travel, see everything I’ve always wanted to see, join in with different cultures in different places, revel in the beauty all around us, become a true person of the world, expand myself and my understanding in the world…

I would be me.  Not a mom.  Not simply an extension of another being.  Just me.  Free to do and think and be what I want without the fear of responsibility to another.  I do love my kids and I gladly walk away from my options to be with them now that they are here.  But if they’d never been…

So, I may have mentioned my imminent increase in age coming up, you know, the big 3-0 and all the crap unfortunate side effects stuff that goes with it.  Well, it’s Monday.  Yep, I am a 13-baby.  As a matter of fact, I was born on a Friday (yeah, go ahead and think what you want about Friday the 13th…but I swear it’s not true…well mostly not…well, maybe a little…). At 11:44pm.  6 minutes to midnight.  In July.  In Arizona (so my mom’s last few months just totally sucked!).  After 16 hours of labor.  By C-section…yeah, sorry Mom.

Anyway, so Monday is my B-day and of course Mr. W, in all his wonderfulness, has been plaguing bugging inquiring what I would like.  I did my list, but don’t really expect anything from it.  Yes, I would like to have someone buy me all of it, but I’m of the mind that if I want something, I can just go get it myself.  It may take a little longer, but then it’s really mine. Maybe it’s the whole you appreciate something more if you get it yourself.  Maybe it’s that I held out for so many years for things promised by my dad (computer at 14, Mustang convertible at 16, Honda Del Sol at 17, visits at graduation from high school/basic training/technical school, digital camera* at 26, MacBook at 28…) that I finally figured out to stop waiting thus ending the imminent disappointment attached. In the end, I simply told Mr. W that I would rather us take a trip somewhere than have him spend too much money on my birthday.  Damn he’s a good listener!

After work Friday, we will be driving up to New York!! We are staying at a fabulous bed and breakfast walking-distance from Times Square, and then Saturday…Wicked on Broadway!!! (At the Gershwin Theater!) Yeah, lots of jumping up and down and screaming and stuff has gone on since he told me.  I read Wicked about a year ago, and convinced Mr. W to read it as well.  We both loved it and have been foaming at the mouth at the possibility to see it, anywhere.  And now we are going.  (Did I mention on Broadway?!) Ok, so I’m a little geeky about the whole thing, but really, it’s Broadway. In New York! Of course, I will be taking Mr. D ( my lover, my soul-mate, my Nikon) with Mr. W’s encouragement, of course.  Times Square at night…Central Park…the Brooklyn Bridge…*sigh* I’ve also heard rumors that they’ve reopened the Statue of Liberty for tourists, so we may try to stop there too.  I’m so freakin’ excited!!

I’ve been to New York once.  Ex#2′s sister was at one of those IMTA conventions, so we went with his parents and the boy for support.  It was hell.  Ex#2 and his father have strong issues with crowds (among other things), so they were basically stressful assholes the whole trip.  The boy peed through his diaper on the subway, onto my shirt.  The sister didn’t get any call-backs, and was in fact told she was too fat to model.  Hmmm…I wonder if this experience fed into her later hospitalization for eating disorders…  Anyway, I didn’t get to see much of the city, and was sorely disappointed by the whole trip.  But now, all that changes thanks to my Mr. Wonderful!  He’s been there once before as well, with his Ex#2.  Better than my trip, but not exactly ideal for him either.  Apparently they rented an apartment for a week there, which she was responsible for.  Turns out the owners had cats there, and Mr. W is severely allergic.  Seriously, he coughs, swells, itches, the whole deal.  So they couldn’t spend much time there, which isn’t such a big deal in itself.  After all, it’s New York. Stuff doesn’t close there, so why the hell would you want to stay home??  Unfortunately, Ex-Mrs. W was/is a little, uh, high maintenance.  She has eating issues…so when she is finally hungry, MUST.  EAT.  NOW!  Also, due to the non-eating thing, she wears out fast.  And where does one rest when away from home…oh yeah, the cat hair-infested apartment that you rented.  Nice. Anyway, I’m hoping I can give him a good trip, as much as he is giving me.  (Give and take…that’s what it’s all about!)  Did I mention how excited I am?!

On a side (yet no less meaningful) note:  Mr. W’s wonderful childhood friend, and my friend, The Girl From the Ghetto herself, took time amidst feeling like crap post-surgery to send me something so sweet:

How wonderful is that?  (No wonder Mr. W adores you so much, Girly!)  Who sends Thank-you cards anymore?  Especially when feeling like crap and stuck in bed?  It’s the small things that touch my heart, and this surely did.  Thank you, Girly! I’m glad I could bring you some laughter, and I truly hope you feel better soon!  And to all you miracle-makers and wish-granters out there (and any editors, magazine-runners, and other writing-involved people), who may happen upon this, check TheGirlFromTheGhetto out…she is simply fabulous and truly deserves a miracle!

*To be fair, about 3 weeks after I bought found my one true love (my Nikon D-40) my dad did send me a check to cover the purchase price.

Damn I’m a whiny bitch!  At least I feel that way right about now.  (And I wonder where the girl gets it)  Here I’ve been whining about my stresses and my problems when all the while there are much bigger issues in other people’s lives that my stuff doesn’t even touch.

A close friend just confided that her hubby is coming home from Iraq on Saturday after 9 months, 3 months short of his one-year contract.  He was there under a similar contract as Mr. W, but a month ago he was fully intending to stay two years instead of the originally planned one.  And now he’s coming home, out of the blue, and oh, did I mention he got fired?  My dear friend has five kids, a crappy job that she hates, and big dreams of pursuing a career she actually wants, which these one or two years apart (and the big paychecks that accompany them) were going to all but hand to her on a silver platter with sparkly jewels all around.  Now?  Not so much.  Now she’s stuck worrying about things like mortgages and bills and what activities she has to cut out of her kids’ lives to make ends meet on a single income in a very high cost of living area.  Did I mention she has five kids??  The kicker, she still loves the guy.  They have been married for like 15 years, and have had many of those “worse” times the preacher talks about when you get married and she’s stuck it out.  Besides that, he still makes her heart flutter and eyes light up.  He still makes her laugh, through all of this.  Love…WTF, man!

Then there is The Girl from the Ghetto.  She’s a simply fabulous human being.  She’s Mr. W’s life-long friend and my new bloggy/long distance friend.  She’s the one that needs that real life Dr. House for all the baffling health issues she struggles with.  I can’t even begin to list her pains and struggles, but you can read them here.  But even through all that, when I met her, and when I read her, she’s still positive.  She’s happy, she’s friendly, she’s bubbly and intelligent and hardworking, she’s multi-talented, she’s fabulous!  But now, now she’s been laid off.  She’s civil service, and has been laid off. (Yeah, I was totally under the apparent misconception that doesn’t happen, like, ever!)  After a (finally) trip to the Mayo clinic to shed some light for her.  After finding out she has to have a surgery hubby’s insurance doesn’t cover.  After Michigan’s crappy economy anyway, she got laid off!!  So I’m sending my love, hugs, and prayers and asking anyone who happens to read my blog to pay her a visit, offer some love, and even better, give her some hope.  (Or a job.  A job would be good!) 

Then there is the random crap that goes on the outskirts of my life.  A guy that works in my area (work area, not for the same facility, but the same overall company) stabbed his wife to death for no apparent reason this past weekend.  One of my neighbors’ house flooded last week from a frozen faucet.  In an attempt to fix it (not sure how) her dad set the insulation in the wall on fire.  Flood and fire.  How much does that suck?  (Ok, granted, not as much as being stabbed to death, but I’m just running the list here)  Two of the ladies I work with suffer from health issues that strike without warning and leave them beat down on the side of the road.  Alone.  In the desert.  The Mojave desert.  With bugs.  — ok, stopping there, but you get the idea.  My step-dad’s mother just found out she has Lupus.  And his sister who lives with her and is supposed to be taking care of her fell off the wagon not long ago and fell hard.   Hell, my dad just had cancersurgery, for the second time, and will be dealing with chemo next month-ish and he’ll be doing it pretty much alone since my step-mother is selfish, unhelpful, and living somewhere else, counting the days until she feels a divorce is appropriate rather than working on their marriage. 

How blessed am I!  I have my health, mostly.  I have a good paying job.  I have the love of a man whom I love in so many ways, for so many reasons.  I have two beautiful, healthy children.  I have a nice house to live in and a good car to drive.  I have nice clothes and nice things and eat well.  Who the hell am I to bitch?  Mr. W and I have life pretty damn good, and yet we are too busy whining and bitching and stressing about the little crap to notice all the good in our lives.  Hell, if Girlie and my other friend can manage to keep smiles on their faces, what right do I have to defile their air with my negativity and discontent?

So I just found out some shit (sorry, no other way to say it) and I’m not sure what to do with it.  I know if I confront Mr. W, it will probably bring up some old shit that we will obviously get over, but the drama of it is almost not worth it.  Notice I said almost.   The problem is, if I don’t bring it up and confront him, it will eat at me and will inevitably begin a cycle of snowballing bitchiness that will end in it coming out anyway, only in a much more dramatic, big thing way.  So I’m thinking I might as well bring it up now and deal with the mini-drama, rather than drag it out and create a possibly huge-ass drama that could be way worse.

What is she babbling about??

Well, basically, on New Years Eve, sans chilluns, I went to a party at a friend/co-worker’s house with a my friend Y, and a bunch of other random work people, and Mr. W’s close friend W and his wife.  W’s (not Mr. W, but Mr. W’s friend W…yeah I know, I need to figure out a better acronym system, but bear with me for now.) wife went home and left him in my care.  The party progressed and I got a little (a lot) shitty, random alcohols, silly drinking games (seriously, can anyone tell me the point of flip-cup??!!), and general merrymaking galore until midnight.  Mr. W called me from Iraq to tell me Happy New Year, or so he said, and proceeded to freak out a little that I was drunk “alone with a bunch of dudes that just want to get in my pants.”  Yeah, so he said it a lot less eloquently than that, but I try to keep this at least a PG13 blog.  We fought briefly, and then I got more drunk, threw up quite a bit, and passed out in my (girl)friend’s bed.  Y stayed with me, and the hostess locked her bedroom door so no one could get in.  W crashed on the couch after making sure I was secure (he is a safety guy after all!). 

The next day was absolute hell.  I threw up when I woke up, and again when I tried to get up again, and again before walking to the car to go home, and again in my front yard, twice, and again after getting upstairs, and at least 4 more times after that.  The rest of my day was spent in and out of consciousness, with bright little breaks of text-fighting with Mr. W about my “immaturity” and his being a generally jealous, controlling ass-hole, a la the ex-men.  (Yeah, he didn’t really like that comparison too much.)  After fighting, breaking up (at least twice), making up, apologizing, (and more throwing up) we worked it all out and all was good in the land of the W’s again.  (Mr. W and Writebrite…not Mr. W’s friend W…keep up, would you!)

Today, during a general girl chat session among myself, Y, and the (girl)friend who hosted the party, I found out that Mr. W went to Y’s husband, K (who was with Mr. W in Iraq, and is still there), and asked if Y had mentioned me fooling around with anyone.  WTF!!??  K didn’t even ask.  K doesn’t even really know me except by reference of Y, and he didn’t even need to ask to know I didn’t.  Yeah, I totally could have.  Yeah, I was drunk and lonely and probably feeling a little pissed of and frisky (it had been 3 months by that point, after all)…never a good combination…and in any other lifetime I totally would have.  But I didn’t.  Didn’t even think about it.  For truth.  Seriously.  Didn’t even cross my mind!  And the one who knows me best, the one whom I love more than any other, ever, the one who I couldn’t hurt if I tried, the one who broke my heart on at least 3 occasions, one of which involved his ex, yeah, like that.  The one didn’t trust me, actually believed I could, I would, and couldn’t even ask me himself.    I say again: WTF!!??

So, yeah, I guess this means I will be asking him about it.  For the above reasons, and because he reads this blog every now and again and will know I know, but totally won’t ask until I ask, and it will just create an even more uncomfortable tension leading to bitchiness on both our parts leading to fighting and extra drama and who knows what…so yeah, I’m going to ask. 

I’ll let ya’ll know how it goes.  (Yes, I totally just typed “ya’ll.”  I speak country every now and again too.  Don’t judge, it’s just a thing, and you know, it’s not that bad, and “ya’ll” is just the contraction for ”you-all”, much clearer than just “you, ” because, really, does “you” mean you-one-person, or you-collective-people?  I mean it just makes sense…kinda…ok, I’ll stop now.)

I’ve joined the brighter side of the dark side.  Yes, I have an on-again off-again relationship with Myspace for about 4 years now(the off-again usually coinciding with viruses and unwanted ex-boyfriends trying to friend me), and have migrated just north in social networking to a more grown-up (seemingly) Facebook and Twitter.  I’m still in the honeymoon stages, trying to figure them out, getting frustrated, but soon after making up (usually after my friend Y sends me some annoyingly cute app.)

For some reason on the drive home today, I got to thinking about old friends.  One in particular, from 8th grade. Wondering where she is, what she has done/is doing with her life, how she’s been living.  I’ll admit, I’m a little apprehensive about finding her because surely she has become a huge-giant* success and will prove to be yet another of my long lost friends who has managed to outshine me in every way.  That’s why I didn’t go to my 10 year reunion, after all.  I went to a college-prep type high school, see.  When I first joined Myspace, I did a massive search of my graduating class and found that all of them are way more impressive than I.  (yeah, I know that’s not a huge leap, but you know what I mean)  Half have joined and probably taken over the white collar world, graduating from the best colleges of the country and are now living the glamorous life in the high rise office buildings of New York, China, and the rest of the world.  The other half have taken a different, although equally impressive path.  They travel the world by backpack or tent, giving back what so many have taken before them.  They are aid workers and good-will bringers.  *sigh*  I figure my long-lost friend (G) must be somewhere around that league.  I can easily see her fitting into either world, rising to the top quickly and elegantly just as she always did.  Hmmmm….

The way I figure, the world is divided into three groups of people…at least in the sense that I am going to delve into today (class…hee hee).

There is the group of people who savor the world and all it has to offer.  This group live a usually glamorous, if not at least a very exciting and fun-filled life.  They travel the world (or their cities) in search of the next project or adventure or at the very least, the next big party.  While they may live in a shambles, really, who cares where you sleep when you spend all your waking time out discovering the world.  These are the backpackers, party animals, and good-will bringers of the world. They may work for money (or charity, or just to get by), but that money comes second to their overall enjoyment of their day.  I frequently find myself envious of these people.  Jealous of their fun and free spirits.

Then there is the group that is more focused on the home life.  This group works hard all day, waiting for that 4 o’clock (or 5 or 6 o’clock) bell to send them home.  And the homes they scramble off to?  Usually filled with comfort, whatever their personal version of comfort is.  I belong to this group.  I work for my money so that I can put it back into my comfort and the comfort of those around me.  My check disappears quickly each month to my kids, food, and my house…probably in that order.  Yes I do like to shop for me (can you say, “retail therapy?”), but in all honesty I spend far less on myself (clothes, shoes, etc) than I do on my core people.  $100.  Doesn’t seem like much these days, especially when it comes to fashion.  In all honesty, nothing in my wardrobe comes even close.  (Except for the one time splurge while in Sicily on a fabulous Italian leather jacket…I couldn’t resist!)  About 3 years ago, I bought a skirt from Vicky’s for $75, and I still feel guilty about it.  So no, as much as I love to shop, I can’t stomach spending large amounts on myself when there are so much fabulous food and home furnishings/decor around to share with the ones I love!

Then there is the mysterious third group.  These are the people who somehow have manage to find balance with the two above groups.  They somehow found that secret path in the trees between and live there happily and fullfilled.  They can travel the world, give aid, attend fabulous parties, all with kids and comfort in tow.  Of course, this group is very rare and is rumored to be just a myth.  But then, how do you explain Angelina Jolie and crew? 

I work with a bunch of assholes!

I know I have mentioned the presence of assholes in my workplace before, but I truly believe those fore-mentioned assholes have infected the lot of my coworkers and they are all now assholes.  I suppose I should explain:

I have been out of work for a week, attempting to nurse the worst cold of all time away, with little luck.  As a matter of fact, the cold and cough I woke up with early Saturday morning, turned into something quite worse by Monday, was giving me chills and drenching me with sweat by Tuesday, and had become bronchitis by Wednesday.  While I did manage to drag myself into work for a couple hours Wednesday morning, motherly advice from a friend sent me to the doctor’s office, where I was diagnosed and prescribed some antibiotics, as well as a prescription strength cough suppressant (since nothing, absolutely nothing else would even touch my cough!).  Much to my dismay, it became quite clear within 2 hours of taking the antibiotic that something just wasn’t right.

I began vomiting within an hour of taking the meds, combined with even worse sweats and chills, inability to sleep, violent mood swings, and then came the horribly bad *ahem* intestinal issues, which have lasted through even today.  Beyond that, there were extreme body pains, likened to what I imagine breaking bones may feel like (I’ve never broken a bone, so I can’t be sure), massive headaches, and a developing sinus infections, which felt a lot like molten metal being flushed through my left nostril and into my left ear, simultaneously.  All that, and I felt like I was back on the cruise ship, although not in a good way.  I couldn’t manage to walk straight for the dizziness, nor could I take more than a couple steps without stopping to re-gather my bearings.  Yeah, it was hell.

I stopped the antibiotics, crawled onto my couch (litterally, I crawled) and haven’t moved (except the sprints to the bathroom and any feeble attempts to actually take care of my son…who has been an absolute prince through all of this, by the way.  I have been blessed with a fabulous five year old, and have already promised to make the week up to him when I feel up to moving) haven’t moved until this afternoon for another doctor’s appointment.

The doc confirmed that I did have an allergic reaction to the original meds he put me on, so he prescribed some more conventional, albeit weaker, antibiotics.  He also tried to give me some IV fluids for my dehydration, but to no avail.  Apparently I was too dehydrated, and my veins weren’t cooperating with the IV.  So I was sent to the pharmacy with a list: my new meds (antibiotics, something for nausea, and something for the inevidible yeast problem that will come with the antibiotics), kaopectate (intestinal issues), and pedialyte, lots of pedialyte.  He told me not to worry about food, as it probably won’t stay down or in, but the rehydrating liquid is key.  So back on the couch, I am, sucking down pedialyte and coughing (and coughing and coughing and coughing!)

So why are my coworkers assholes, you ask?  Because apparently two years of working with them has not earned me even one concerned phone call for why I haven’t been to work.  Not one! Not even my boss.  Not even the ladies who like to mother me.  Not even the ones I call friends.  The thing that makes it worse is they all know my home situation.  They all know Mr. W, and that he is far, far away.  They all know I’m a single mother with young children at home.  They all know if something happens to me, there is no one to call for me.  And not one single call.  Assholes!

Well, this rant has taken about everything out of me…so I’m off to rest some more on the couch with my princely little boy, at least long enough to gather the energy needed to make it up stairs in one go.  Silver lining to all this lung-sickiness?  I quit smoking.  Not willingly, because damn, if I don’t REALLY want one.  But I figure if this isn’t a sign…getting winded taking a shower, needing a nap after a flight of stairs, coughing so hard it actually feels like my head is going to blow…yeah, I quit.  Whoopti-freakin-doo.