The Homeland....At Last

As we exited Customs' detainment into the airport lobby the sun of freedom shone brightly in my eyes (literally, the sun was shining in my eyes) but was dulled when my ears were assaulted by FIL’s voice calling out to F to get his attention.
“F!!!!!!!!!!!!! F!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

OMG! F failed to tell me we were going to be chaperoned by FIL for the next 3 weeks!!!!

Thankfully, that was not the case. FIL’s voice belonged to F’s cousin who is FIL’s nephew, hence not only did his voice sound the same, he looked like FIL as well. But that, my digital friends is where the similarities ended. And that went for the rest of the family members I met. F's extended family was amazingly nice. I liked them, A LOT. Not near as crazy as the American contingent. This greatly eased my mind.

What I was not prepared for however, was the massive culture shock. Traveling Westernized Europe did not make me as worldly as I thought it had. I apologize for my arrogance.

As I said, The Homeland is classified as a 3rd world country. So I was expecting 2 things. Dirt roads and mud huts or wide tree lined streets with white washed, walled in homes. See, I'd never really seen any pictures of The Homeland, not the parts where people live anyway. Just the tourists’ parts.

When we left the airport and the heavily armed police, there were tree lined streets and heavily armed police. This gave way to a dirty, over crowded, polluted city, and more heavily armed police. Think NYC about 20+ yrs ago. My senses were bombarded with the sickening smell of diesel fuel. Overwhelmed by the non-stop honking of horns. My nerves became raw from the constant near misses during every car ride. 2 lanes of traffic became 4 or 6. Nobody knew how to stay in their own lane. Motorcycles whipped and weaved in and out of traffic. F and I were horrified one day while we were on the "Expressway" and we looked out our windows to see a family of 4; On a MOTORCYCLE. The 3 yr old was seated happily between the handle bars, Dad was driving, Mom perched side-saddle with a BABY held in her arms. Not a helmet in sight. A BABY ON A MOTORCYCLE!!!! Adults and children darted into traffic narrowly making it to the other side of the street. Every morning we were awakened by a man making his way down our street selling his "fresh" bread. Everything was dirty.
It was a team effort to take a hot shower.
In the beginning it was just part of the adventure. By the time we were close to leaving I had all I could do to not fling open the patio doors and scream down at the Bread Man to “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!”


I stuck out. F stuck out because he was with me. The Natives couldn't decide if he was one of them or not because he was dressed like an American, and his knowledge of the language was "broken" or "crappy" as his cousins put it.
The first “National Monument” we went to was a lesson I’ll never forget. First of all the “Tourism Police” were dressed head to toe in black with blood red accents. They carried guns. Menacing? You better believe it. Especially when you can’t speak the language but you know you are being discussed by the use of “Madame” over and over again and then are told to stay in the car with a person you’d just met (F’s cousin who picked us up at the airport) who’s not telling you what’s going on and your husband gets out of the car and disappears into a throng of tourists. Second, F’s passport says he was born in The Homeland. So he got the “Resident’s” price. Me? F had to pay the “tourist” price for me. His price? 3 “dollars”. The price for a “tourist”? 65 “dollars”. Because he couldn’t PROVE I was his wife. I was floored. That marriage license would have come in handy, but who would think to take a marriage license to go see the Statue of Liberty???(you realize I’m just using lady liberty as an example right?) Because I am married to F I am now considered to be a “Resident” even though F hasn’t lived there for 30yrs and is an American Citizen. On several other trips to go see “National Monuments”, we were with a tour group. Our guide knew we were married (he required no proof) and so when he purchased us tickets he purchased a “resident” ticket for me. EVERY SINGLE TIME I handed over my ticket, I was questioned, “You a Resident???????” F would either be in front of me or behind me in line and it got to the point when they would look at me questioningly and asked me “you a resident?” I’d just point to F who would then jump in and explain that I was his wife. One other couple in our group was the opposite of us. She was the “Resident”, he was the foreigner. She told us that when she went to book a ride on an over-night train the booking agent wouldn’t book her in a room with her husband because she could supply no proof that he was indeed her husband, and women who are native of The Homeland are not allowed to travel over-night in the same room with a foreign man who isn’t her husband. So she had to book the train as a foreigner and pay foreigner prices. She told us that because she is a woman who married a non-native man, she herself is no longer considered a Resident like F is.
The Homeland is not about gender equality.

Sticking out is not an all out fun time party party!!! I got stares. Open. Point. Blank. Stares. I decided I would meet all stares with a winning smile! It didn’t help. No one would smile back at me. They would glare, or look away, but no one, save for ONE woman in a grocery store, smiled back. That trip, to the grocery store, was the most self esteem devastating hour of my life. I looked different than everyone there. I dressed different than everyone there. I stuck out. I knew I would. My appearance didn’t cause any great commotion, other than people running into each other because they couldn’t stop staring, but it caused me great emotional turmoil. The hostility was palpable. I didn’t belong and they wanted me to know it. As I told Eldest Sister when we got home, I consider myself a strong, confident person, but by the time we left that grocery store, I had all I could do to keep my head up and my eyes dry. After awhile it got to F too. Before the trip was over we were both returning the stares, without the smile.
The people we actually interacted with were always friendly and polite. No one was rude. The Rule that CBF taught me on our trips applied well to The Homeland as well, "Always Make Friends With the Help(bartender)." F is amazing at this, and it got us so many great things. And as I learned more words, I became a great delight and source of entertainment because the Natives weren't expecting it.
But they still stared.
They just weren't hostile about it.

Pee Your Pants Moment

F is from a 3rd World Country. As many 3rd World Countries go, they are a tad bit, um, more militant when it comes to airports and points of entry into their country.
This was extremely evident as we landed in F’s Homeland. The airport was small and dingy and in need of some upgrading and some happier paint colors. As we made our way through the airport F’s body tensed. He became snippy with me. I was trudging along, dying for some clean knickers, secure in the mindset that customs would be a breeze (silly American that I am, why would there be a problem?). This is when F slows his step and tells me, “DH, my heart is pounding like crazy.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just think that there’s going to be a problem getting through customs.”
“Why would there be?”
“They have mandatory military service here. They could detain me and make me serve maybe.”
“What? You have an American past port, don’t worry about it.”
“Do you have our marriage license?”
“What? Why would we need that? I don’t have it, YOU do.”
“Just let me do the talking, OK?!?!”
“FINE.” I had to bite my lip. I don’t like being told to keep quiet, who does?
“DH, you go first.”
And as I thought, my happy American ass sailed through customs. I waited next to F as he handed over his pass port to the less than smiley customs agent.
“Sir, please wait over there.”
My stomach dropped. Suddenly clean knickers were a luxury.
“Is there a problem?” F asked.
“Please wait over there.”

F turns to me. “GO THROUGH!”
“NO! I’m not leaving you, are you crazy?!?!?”
We make our way over to the waiting area where several well dressed men, ALL men, no women, are milling about. F digs into his backpack and hands me a cell phone we bought State side and therefore didn’t even know worked over there yet or not (it didn’t) a stack of papers and says, “Here, if they don’t let me go, you know what to do.”

WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAT? I had no freaking clue what to do!!!!

“I don’t know what to do!!”(he told me later that I was suppose to call his cousins, which even then he didn’t say which ones, and have them come get us. Or call FIL, who has government connections. All with a phone that wouldn't have worked. Yeah.)

“Fine. Stay here.”

We both fell into moody silence as we watched a customs agent take F’s passport and disappear through a door. All I could think was, they could take it, and say he never presented it. And he’d be stuck there forever as I wandered the airport parking lot trying to find someone who spoke English who could take me to the American Consulate so I could get help. (I also thought of Bridget Jones being rescued by Mark Darcy when she got jailed for drug smuggling and all I could think was, I don’t know a Mark Darcy!)
A man dressed in civilian clothing came into the waiting area and was asking for F. But we weren’t sure he was asking for F because he was using a different version of F’s name. (long complicated story, ok, maybe not, but I don't feel like explaining it. It has to do with their naming/nicknames customs.)
“I think he’s looking for me. Wait here while I go ask.”
I was hopeful. But F came back moments later, “I really think he was looking for me, but he didn’t understand the name issue.”
We probably waited no more than 15 minutes, but it seemed like days. Finally they called F back up again.
“You may go.”
“Was there a problem?” (WTF!!!! He said we could go, just flipping GO!!!! I wanted to scream at him.)
“You may go.”
Finally F lead the way out.


At that point, right there, I wanted to turn around, get back on the plane and go home. I’m not going to lie. I knew, in my gut, that F and I would encounter this kind of scrutiny in some form or other everywhere we went. I let F do the talking the rest of the trip. And it ground every independent feminist fiber in my body to shreds to stand there and keep my mouth shut while I smiled sweetly.

This my digital friends, is how our Honeymoon began.

Welcome to, The Homeland.

Chinny Chin Chin

That hair on my chin? This one that I plucked before?
The damn thing keeps coming back.
WTF???

Planning Ahead

I was talking to my mom about babies and showers and gifts. I was attempting to plant the seed that when my time comes I would like this fabulous rocker/glider. My mother has several of the less fancy ones, and everyone loves to sit in them. When I mentioned that I'd like one since she got SIL one, she came back with something about "the chair instead of a shower."



WHHHHHAAAAAAAT?!?!?!!?!?!??!

No no no! I want the chair AT the shower!



Greedy? When it comes to this rocker glider, you better believe it. They are pricey, very true. But my mom has, 'connections', and can get the chair at a nice discount. But the opportunity for said deep discount will expire soon. So I was hoping she'd do a little shopping now. Plan ahead and all that.

I'm not sure I was too very convincing. She didn't seem to buy any of my reasoning.

I really want one of these chairs! How can I convince her? HOW!?!?!?

Yeppers

You ever have one of those clothing days where you haven't done the laundry in awhile but you need something to wear so you pick say the last pair of jeans on the hanger and you look at them and think "Wow, I forgot I had these! I wonder why I don't wear them more?" And you put them on and they feel pretty good and look pretty good and then its after lunch and suddenly your gut is getting mushed by said "pretty good" jeans and it's been an hour now and they aren't stretching out and you are seriously considering sitting at your desk with your pants not only unbutton but also unzipped? And then you remember why you don't wear them anymore and wonder why the hell you don't just give them away?
Yeah, uh, me neither. How silly.

Ouchie **UPDATE***

****UPDATE*****

This headache lasted all weekend. I took yesterday off and ended up at the doctor's where they were GOING to give me a shot of Demerol, but couldn't because I drove myself there. So I got the lame ass vicodin. Actually, I got the GENERIC for vicodin. Bastards. Still have the headache, not as bad, but now my eye twitches when I type. Which I suppose is an improvement over the nail in the ear.

Ouchie

I have one of those headaches where typing on my keyboard is like driving a nail through my ear into my brain.
Today is going to be a fun day.

I....What?

I just had a co-worker stop in and tell me, "Marriage must really agree with you because you look really great now! What a big difference!"

I know she was trying to be nice and compliment my new hair style. But whenever anyone says something like that to me, it always makes me think I looked like total crap before.

Um, Hello?

Is this thing on? Anybody out there?
I guess I overrated myself.

Ahem. No burning questions concerning the trip to The Homeland?
Nothing?

wow.
Does this mean I actually have to just, you know, TELL you stuff that happened?

Or don't you want to know?

Anybody?

Bueller?

Where to Begin?

So much happened while we were in The Homeland for our Honeymoon, I’m not sure what to tell you first.
Should I tell you of all the strange things I saw and experienced?
How badly I was slapped by the mistress of culture shock?
What F’s extended family was like?
I can’t tell you of the sights I saw, because that would be a dead give away of where we were. I CAN tell you, THEY WERE AMAZING.
I can’t post pictures for obvious reasons.
I tried to document things to tell you, but that quickly fell by the way side in the flurry of activity.
Please forgive me.
So I’m putting it to you, dear digital reader, what do you want to hear about? I’m remembering things day by day, so some stories may come much later in the rotation than when they actually happened.
I await your requests.

Cute or Crafty??

F is HOT.
F is HOT to have, wait, MAKE a baby.
Yes, this is his new line when asking for sex.
F: "DH! Let's make a BABY!!!"

See, my great Period Plan for the Honeymoon completely crashed and burned. I started the Pill two weeks late expecting it to push back the start of said period by, well, 2 weeks. Not so Pill fans, not so. Period came right on f'ing time, and then, decided to stay, just a little longer. So while lamenting about this and how screwed up my system now was to F, he says, "DH, why don't you just stop taking them? What's the worst that could happen? You get pregnant."(this new idea was fostered lovingly by his Homeland family members.)

I was speechless.

He was right.

But I had to really think about it. REALLY Think about it. After what, 15 years of an on again off again affair with the Pill, I was finally in a place where I didn't need it anymore and I was struck dumb by that fact. Getting pregnant was ALWAYS the worst that could happen (outside of diseases of course) and here I was, in a place where it is no longer the worst, but the WANTED.
I'm still kind of stumbling over it. Especially when I see the telling purple packaging laying unused in the medicine cabinet. But a BABY! Wow, a baby could HAPPEN, FOR REAL anytime.
And it would be a GOOD THING.
But I still think F is using this to his horn ball advantage.

Glad To Be Back Where.....

1) Public toilets are FREE.....

2) ....and they come with the T.P.

3) All showers are hot, and are used DAILY, along with deodorant.

4) F and I are not a freak show for any and all to stare at openly.


We're back, praise the LORD.

More to follow.......................

Feel the Guilt

I got a random call on my cell that I almost didn't answer. It was the Nephew of my dad's best friend. The Best Friend, whom we all called Uncle, past away last month. The Nephew found my number and called me to relay the news since my mother had sent The Uncle a Christmas card.


I felt guilty because mom and I decided not to invite said Uncle to the wedding. If we had, it would have been the last time everyone would have seen him.


Guilt.



Mom says not to feel guilty. She said that since the last time we DID see him, when mom and I invited him over for dinner, he arrived, late, and DRUNK. Olfactory and visibly DRUNK. And that if he felt the need to drink heavily before joining just the two of us for dinner that if he DID come to the wedding, where all of us were, it probably wouldn't have been pretty.

I still feel bad.
Especially when I ran across his address while doing Christmas cards. Or when I ran across his e-mail address. I just can't bring myself to erase/delete it. It makes it so very, final.

I hope you are happy where you are now Uncle, with plenty of fishing, bowling your old dog and booze, if you so desire.



Please tell my Dad, I said Hi, that I love him, and I hope he was able to peek in on my wedding.

Please Take These Back

F and I went shopping to get him new underwear to take with us to The Homeland. The package was opened so he didn't want to get it. I rolled my eyes, sighed heavily and made him buy them.

We get home, he washes them, dries them, and then calls me down stairs.

"DH, I can't believe this! These underwear aren't even the brand they were suppose to be! AND!!! AND!!!!!! They've been WORN!!!!!!!!"



"OMG! What? How can you tell? Are there stains or something?????"





"NO, but look! The waist band!" The waist band had piled, or fuzzed, or whatever you want to call it, from being worn.



He folded them back up, shoved them back into the packaging and we head back to the store to return them.

The store was horrified and told F he was much calmer than they'd think he'd be after that and gave him a new set, in an unopened package.



I felt bad that I made him buy them, but I still laughed, I mean seriously, who would have thought???????????

Goose / Gander

Do you know the saying? What's good for the Goose is good for the Gander? It's one of my favorite sayings, right up there with the Pot calling the Kettle Black. And despite what Omarosa said, it isn't a racist statement, which she knew when she claimed it was. Whatever.

Anyway! Remember the mandatory gift giving ladies? The ones who complain about having to participate in office potlucks?? We had our Holiday Potluck here in the office. Many people brought things. We always have it on a Thursday because there are a ton of leftovers and that way we can re-enjoy all the fabulous food on Friday. Well, 5 of these mandatory gift ladies "chipped in" and brought a ham.

Which after everyone was done eating, was immediately bagged up, evenly, and passed back out to the Chipper-inners.

There's the holiday sharing spirit we were looking for!

Apparently, what is good for the geese, is not good for the ganders.

Imagine that.

Does it make you horny baby???

So I quit taking the birth control. Not completely, I'm just starting later in the month so "that time" won't interfere too very much with our Honeymoon. And I've notice a change.
I'm horny.
A lot.
F is liking this change, what guy wouldn't? But it got me to thinking, Is part of the "birth control" pill's job killing your libido? I don't ever remember reading anything about this being an effect, but that doesn't mean it doesn't happen.

Has anybody else experienced this randy charge once you stopped taking the pill?????

Brilliant? Or Sad?

Burger King has it's own perfume, or cologne, for men.
Brilliant marketing, or just a sad state of the world today?

Homeland Bound

I hope everyone has a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS and a FABULOUS NEW YEAR!!!!!

F and I are on our way to The Homeland!!! As I promised, there will be stories when I return and there are even a few to keep you somewhat happy while I'm gone.

ENJOY my Digital Friends!!!!!!

Cold

It's 11 degree outside.
It was 7 when I arrived at work. The heat in the building can't keep up. So it's very cold in here.
Going to the bathroom was an experience in fast peeing. And washing your hands? ICE WATER. The bathroom doesn't seem to posses hot water. So washing your hands is like dipping them in a natural spring out of ALASKA.
Thank goodness it's WARM in The Homeland! I actually packed my SANDALS!
Now if only I can convince F to give me a French pedicure tonight, we'll be in business!

Lost

I seem to have lost my ATM card. This is not good. I remember using on my shopping spree over the weekend, but now, it's nowhere to be found.
So I canceled it.
This is the first time EVER in my life that I have lost a credit card type item. So now I'm all paranoid that someone is out there having a fabulous Christmas on my raise.

Now I'll have to write a check to the present Nazi since I can't get my hands on any money, MAWHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!

It's done.

I went to a new salon and got my hair cut.
Not permed.
And the cut looks fabulous.
One thing though, it takes longer to style now than it did before. It's MUCH shorter, yet it takes longer to do. It's not as "wash and wear" as I was hoping it'd be.
Am I the only one who experiences this?

Letting You Know

As some of you know, F and I are going on our Honeymoon over Christmas break. We'll be gone into mid January. Here's the thing, I'm not really close with any other Bloggers so that makes it kinda hard to ask any of them to do a guest post. So, I will try and pre-write as many posts as I can, but I highly doubt that much exciting stuff will happen to me between now, and the day we leave. I can't post while there because I'm quite sure I'll not have any alone time where I can compose without being found out.
However, if you'll promise to wait for me, I promise there'll be LOADS of good stories about the Honeymoon in The Homeland, with the extended family.
Stick with me kids, and I'll tell you tale of a magical coaster ride..............

Cutie!

My 3 1/2 yr old niece wanted F's attention so she called out "UNCLE DH!!!!!!" "UNCLE DH!!!!!!!"
My brother, leaned over to her and said, "It's AUNT DH."
She looked at him, looked at me, looked back in the kitchen where F was standing and said, "AUNT DH!!!!"
"What is it hon?" I queried from the couch. I knew she wanted F, but it was just too cute hearing her refer to him as UNCLE DH.
Frustrated she looks at me and exclaims "I want HIM!!" as her little finger points into the kitchen.
"Uncle F." I told her.

"UNCLE F!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

F was being summoned for a tickle session.
I can hardly wait for him to be a Dad.

My Heart Did Not Grow 6 Sizes *Update* *Update Again*

I have an issue with forced gift giving. Every year, without consideration about other people's financial situation(which most every one has a tight one right now) a few of my department mates decide what is going to be done about giving our boss a gift. This year, I expressed the need to maybe do something other than chip in for a present. Make a donation in our boss' name (she set up a fund when her mother died) or everyone bake her something(she doesn't cook). And I was told that "No matter WHAT we do, you STILL HAVE TO chip in."


And that's when my inner bitch kicked in.


"No, Mrs. Nosey, I DON'T have to chip in." (she is the office gossip and has absolutely no respect for a person's privacy and feels free to ask all manner of personal questions.)

All eyes suddenly find the floor very interesting.

No one wanted to bake anything.


No one wanted to donate to anything.

No one else would speak what was on their mind.


I know that our boss does a lot for us. Lunches, treats, etc. And I appreciate it all. I do not expect her to do these things. She does a fine job of expressing her appreciation for our work verbally and that is more than enough for me. I know I am appreciated.

It's not that I don't want to do anything for her, I just feel that forcing everyone to participate in a group gift is wrong.

And I also feel that it is wrong to make people feel bad if they would prefer not to participate. There are a few of these same office mates who grouse about bringing a dish for office pot lucks. Something they have every right to refrain from participating in. And usually do refrain, but still help themselves to what others gladly make and bring.

I know that one of my department mate's husband hasn't had a steady job in several years, and they struggle on a daily basis.

No consideration was taken for her situation.

I know that another department mate is the primary bread winner in her home which also helps to support some of her off springs, and their off springs.

Again, no consideration was taken.

I know that another one has taken in her sister and the sister's baby and the sister does not have steady income.

No consideration taken.

Another has lost a majority of their savings/retirement due to the situation with the Automotive problem.

One member wasn't event present and therefore wasn't even ask what she thought. She has a new house, a new baby, and her spouse just started a new job. In the automotive industry.


And they all just stood there. Eyes down cast. Not wanting any confrontation.


so I am the bad guy(once again, I objected last year for the first time, which caused much hissing and booing) because I thought to consider that maybe just maybe we should rethink the forced gift participation.

Silly me.

So let's just raise the gift amount! YAY! (yes, that's what they did. amazing.stuck to me they did.)

*They raised it AGAIN, but if I can't come up with it, that's ok, I shouldn't worry. I wonder if this was said to anybody else?*

**I was just 'reminded' of how much I still owe. But not by the person collecting, noooo, by Mrs Nosey. ggggrrrrrrr**

Oh.....My

My friend sent me this video. It's apparently made it's way around the web for quite some time now, but it's a first for me.
Just, you know, SHUT THE MIC OFF!!!!!

Um????

Seen while driving: A mound of tin foil with a piece of pizza perched atop.
On the back shelf area of the car.
There was no one in the backseat who could reach said pizza.
The driver of the car, actually the ONLY passenger, had on a head scarf tied in such a way that I thought she had a small hatchet sticking out of the front of her head.
Um, yeah.


Also, on a side note, I went through the McDonald's drive through for lunch and when I got back to my desk discovered they had only given me a 1/4 pounder but had charged me for the double 1/4 pounder I'd ordered, which it stated on the slip they'd attached to the burger container. It's cold, and I didn't want to get back in the car and go, literally across the street, to get the burger I'd paid for. So my question is, how often does this happen? And how much money do you think McDonald's makes because people just don't want the hassle of having to go back and get the right thing?????

Change Some More

My boss calls me and my co-worker into her office.
"There are going to be some changes to the Org Chart that is going to affect our area."
My stomach starts doing flips.
"From now on, you(me) and you(my crazy co-worker) and G(the programmer) will form a division and you two will report to G who will in turn report to me."

Now mind you, I like G, we are friends. We have spent many hours sitting together working on projects. G has an actual degree in the field we work in. And on top of that, also posses a Management degree. Qualified? Oh very much so, yes.

(I'm going to whine, so those of you with a weak mental state, stop reading here.)

G has been here 1.5 years. I have been here 10 years. Which I expressed to my boss.
I feel, slighted? Passed over? Shafted? Especially since I have been begging my boss since the day she started to get me and Crazy Co-worker more training and education instead of letting us fly by the seat of our pants. And yet my boss can't understand why I'm concerned about losing my job. Who wouldn't be upset about someone who has less time in becoming their boss? Wasn't there even a movie made about it? G is not younger than me, so that takes out some of the sting.
And I know, I could go out on my own and get training. That costs money, which I haven't had in quite some time.
I know G is more qualified than I am, than either of us. So G getting this "new" title is fitting.
I just feel my position slipping further and further down the "obsolete" slide. I'm very replaceable.
And it makes me nervous.
And frightened.
And a little depressed.

I'll be hitting up a bottle of adult beverages, believe you me.

Change

You know how when someone changes a seemingly small aspect of their appearance it can totally change how they look? A new hair color, a different frame shape for their glasses, a new hair cut, or shaving off their goatee. And you see them, and you're all "What? Who ARE You?? Where you come from???" And you either like it, or dislike it.
Dislike.
F.
Shaving goatee off.
Not happy. Me.
It is like living with a different person. I can't even say it's his twin, because, seriously, he does not look like MY F.
His lips really stand out now. He freaks me out when he smiles.
I've gotten semi-used to it over the last few days, but he is in no way staying clean shaven. He promises me it'll be back within 3 days.
We're at day 2.5. I'll see how it looks tonight when I get home.
Just, weird.
Me no likey.

Out Dated?

I'm going to go with the idea that F will still have his job in 3 weeks(or me mine for that matter) and we will still be going to The Homeland for our Honeymoon. (it helps me not think about the "what if" factor.) That said, I need a new hair style. I have very fine, straight hair. It's the longest it's been since I was a sophomore in college. I've had short hair, I've had medium length hair, I've had long permed hair, and short permed hair. It's very easy to manage when it's permed. So I ask you, my digital friends, Are perms out dated? I need something that doesn't need much up keep or styling whilst in The Homeland. If I could braid my own hair, I'd go that way, while there, but I can't. So I need an easy style. I can't even give you pics of styles to choose from, because I have no idea what I want and my brain has latched onto the practically self styling permed hair.
Ideas? Places I should look for ideas?
Should I break out my leg warmers to go with my perm?
Seriously, I need help!!

Around the Globe

I saw this little nugget in my Sitemeter stats and I'm pretty geeked about all the countries I get read in. Thank you my International Digital Friends!!!! I am in no way a geograpical wizard, however I have a pretty good idea where most places are, except the 2 I highlighted in red. There is a place called Reunion? Where?

And to my 318 Digital friends in Australia, tis the season, so how about shippin me some of those crack chips? hmmmmmmm??? please!!!!!!!

Current Country Totals From 9 Jun 2008 to 25 Nov 2008
United States (US) 6,210

United Kingdom (GB) 1,110
Canada (CA) 663
Australia (AU)318
New Zealand (NZ)164
Trinidad and Tobago (TT) 60
Hong Kong (HK) 39
Germany (DE) 39
Finland (FI) 38
Poland (PL) 36
Ireland (IE) 36
South Africa (ZA) 33
Sweden (SE) 33
Romania (RO) 29
Denmark (DK) 26
France (FR) 24
Norway (NO) 22
Brazil (BR) 21
Slovakia (SK) 20
Hungary (HU) 20
Czech Republic (CZ) 19
Turkey (TR) 18
India (IN) 17
Netherlands (NL) 16
Mexico (MX) 16
Asia/Pacific Region (AP) 14
Lithuania (LT) 14
Greece (GR) 13
Croatia (HR) 13
Belgium (BE) 12
Europe (EU) 10
Italy (IT) 10
Argentina (AR) 10
Spain (ES) 9
Singapore (SG) 9
Thailand (TH) 8
United Arab Emirates (AE) 8
Paraguay (PY) 8
Switzerland (CH) 7
Philippines (PH) 7
Macedonia (MK) 7
Saudi Arabia (SA) 7
Serbia (RS) 6
Japan (JP) 6
Iceland (IS) 5
Estonia (EE) 5
Latvia (LV) 5
Austria (AT) 5
Bulgaria (BG) 4
Portugal (PT) 4
Russian Federation (RU) 4
Northern Mariana Islands (MP) 4
Colombia (CO) 3
Malaysia (MY) 3
Malta (MT) 3
Cyprus (CY) 3
Indonesia (ID) 3
Costa Rica (CR) 3
Lebanon (LB) 3
Slovenia (SI) 3
Chile (CL) 2
Bosnia and Herzegovina (BA) 2
Qatar (QA) 2
Taiwan (TW) 2
Puerto Rico (PR) 2
Faroe Islands (FO) 2
Egypt (EG) 2
Tunisia (TN) 2
Jordan (JO) 2
Korea, Republic of (KR) 2
Luxembourg (LU) 1
Belarus (BY) 1
Kazakstan (KZ) 1
Israel (IL) 1
Venezuela (VE) 1

Panama (PA) 1
Grenada (GD) 1
Netherlands Antilles (AN) 1
Senegal (SN) 1
Guyana (GY) 1
Uganda (UG) 1
Reunion (RE) 1
Botswana (BW) 1
Peru (PE) 1
Seychelles (SC) 1
Ecuador (EC) 1
Honduras (HN) 1
Guadeloupe (GP) 1
Pakistan (PK) 1
Algeria (DZ) 1
Iran, Islamic Republic of (IR) 1
Palestinian Territory (PS) 1
Azerbaijan (AZ) 1
Bahrain (BH) 1
Oman (OM) 1
Belize (BZ) 1
Dominican Republic (DO) 1
Vietnam (VN) 1
Cuba (CU) 1
Georgia (GE) 1

Adorable

F and I spent the day with my Brother and his family over the holiday weekend. F and my Brother went off to do guy stuff while B-S-I-L(brother-sister-in-law) and I were left with the care and feeding of their 2 little ones. My 2yr old nephew has taken quite a liking to F and F to my nephew. After the guys had left my nephew looks at me over his chicken noodle soup and says, "Where your DH?"
Me: "What?"
Nephew: "Where your DH go?"
Me: "I'm right here hon."
Nephew: "No, where your DH go?!?"

In his adorable 2 yr old way my nephew was asking me where F had gone.

A few months ago his 3 yr old sister referred to F as "DH's F."

Makes my ovaries do a dance those two do, let me tell ya.

Is It Just Me?

Is it just me or does it seem that every time I get a cold or get sick, I'm also experiencing that monthly female joy? Like I need a sinus headache and cramps.
Cruel joke world, cruel joke.

Potential FUUUUUUUUUUCK

F called.
"We got an e-mail from the HEAD Head guy, the VERY TOP guy. He says things are bad, not only here, but over in the HOME BASE Country. It said that last time things were this bad, there were early retirement packages and potential lay offs.
So, DH, this means we have to watch EVERY penny. No more going out to lunch, brown baggin only. That kind of stuff, ok? And I'm REAAAAAAALLY worried about going to The Homeland for our Honeymoon."

Me: "ok."

What can you say about that? I praise all that is Holy that he still has a J.O.B. That I still have a J.O.B.
This is crazy. I don't even know how to react. Like seriously. My brother lost his job. Sweet Miss Molly just lost her job. This has got to stop. The shit hole spiral has GOT TO STOP. You hear that Obama??? Congress??? That's the sucking whirling sound of America going down the tubes. History is about to repeat it's self. We know this isn't the way to go. And this time? We're taking other countries down with us. The Global Economy is crumbling around our ears and Congress wants to know if people will work for a dollar for the year. Is that REALLY the important thing to focus on? REALLY????
We all need to light some candles and say some serious prayers.

I've got nothin'

I'm drawing a blank for a Blog topic. My mind is all consumed with the fact that we are getting tomorrow off, a whole extra day for Thanksgiving! As I was explaining to my co-worker friend at lunch today, I am so excited about having this extra day off and I have SOOOO many things I WANT to do, and yet haven’t figured out how to get them all accomplished and STILL be able to sleep in. And by sleep in, I’m talking noon-ish. It’s really not all that possible. I want to go shopping, pre-Black Friday type stuff. Finally use the pedicure cert F gave me LAST Christmas, I hope it’s still good, and take said F out to lunch since the nail place is by his work. At least sort wedding presents so I can finally start on the Thank Yous, maybe take a nap and do some holiday baking. It may not seem like much, but there’s always prep involved when going to see your honey at his workplace. You can’t come prancing in in yoga pants and a ponytail. I must be “dressed” and “coiffed”. Which means getting up before 11am. (I’m lazy on days off, m-k?) Anyway, my mind is consumed with time lines and prep-times, so I have nothing to give you my dear digital friends to get you through the long weekend. So I’m going the easy route and getting you all to participate in the post. This means some of you must stop just being a red dot on my map and put your name out there! I know there are some non-Thanksgiving celebrating digital friends, so go with a Holiday you celebrate, anyway, what food dish is it a sin to not have at your holiday meal? For me it’s the stuffing. There must be stuffing, and LOTS of it.
Or what dish is NOT to be messed with/changed/ “jazzed up”? Like adding meat to the stuffing? BIG HUGE NO-NO.
Share my digital friends, SHARE!
And to those of you lucky enough to get a day completely centered on eating and being lazy, HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
To everyone else, if I was hosting this year, I’d invite ya over, however, I don’t think Eldest Sister would go for that, so I’m afraid you’re on your own. Happy Normal Thursday to you!

Weirdness

I had a dream involving an office building mate but I didn't remember I'd had said dream until I saw him in the office this morning. I don't remember the whole dream, but I know I was crying and he offered me a hug. I vividly remember seeing how soaked his blue dress shirt got from my tears.
How weird is that?

I also dreamed about F's and my SON. I'm not even close to being pregnant, and yet I've had 2 dreams now concerning said baby and even his NAME. Which is a very sweet dream to have.
But I can't help but wonder, if I dreamed of the kid's name, and he comes into being, should we name him as such? Because, yes, it's a nice name, very normal, but not at all exotic. Which I'd like our kids' name to be, since they themselves will be half exotic, (I'm about as plain wonder bread white as you can get.). By exotic I don't mean, Apple, or Bronx, or Pilot Inspector. Just something a little more than Jane, ya know?
And am I jinxing said baby by sharing my dream with my digital friends?

Yes, I know I'm crazy.

But I'm still going to continue to wonder.

Pot Refuses to Dance with Kettle

"I have to agree with F...you come across as really judgmental and need to get over yourself. Everything you write is with such a negative outlook or criticizing someone or something. It makes you sound like you're constantly a victim and the whole world is against you. Your blog is basically a daily pity party for yourself.

Give the teenager a break for crying out loud. Were you never a kid in love? Did you never do stupid stuff? You write as if you think you're perfect and everyone else is wrong. And don't tell me to stop reading your blog. I will continue to do so...it's like my little form of self torture. I have hope for you though because I always think...maybe...just maybe...she'll write something positive for once in her life."


Some of you may have read Anonymous’ little comment from the other day. Along with her follow-up response to Sassy Two Socks. I know many other Bloggers wonder how, if at all, to respond to negative Anonymous comment leavers (i'm sorry but including your name without a link is STILL anonymous). Calling attention to them may some how give them a sense of validation. If it helps them feel better about themselves, I’m happy to help. Plus, you know, it gives me something to write about.

I do feel the need to clarify or counter point a few things.

1) I am judgmental. And so are you (pot? kettle?) and so is just about everyone else in the world. From a few small snips of my life you have decided that I have a negative outlook, do nothing but criticize and that I feel I am a victim where the whole world is against me. Truly, profound of you. Nonetheless, incorrect. I’m not sure how sharing things that happen to me is asking for pity. I’m simply telling a story by sharing my thoughts and feelings. I know that I am a small fish in a world wide pond, and certainly don’t have the narcissism required to think the world gives two shakes about me. (I realize that statement right there may sound like I’m looking for pity, I’m not. I’m stating the truth. No pity involved/needed.)


2) I have never in my life thought I was a victim. Oh, wait, I’ll take that back. When I was in middle school playing at an away game someone came into the guest locker room while we were out on the floor and stole our entire teams’ jewelry. That time I and 11 other girls were victims of someone’s greed and meanness. So wow, yeah, I guess I am a victim. Maybe I never recovered from that incident and have carried it with me into my adult life and let it affect every aspect of it! (it’s called sarcasm, look it up.)

3) I have done stupid stuff, like allowing Anonymous comments (if anyone can tell me, can you block those?) (I’m asking for help, not pity, just clarifying) Drank til I puked at a frat house in the trash can they were using to collect empty cans.(embarrassing) Mixed my liquor with beer. (very bad idea) However, I have NEVER chased after a boy who very clearly did not want my affection. I was raised by my parents, and most especially my older sisters and brother to respect myself. When it involves the opposite sex, you don’t waste your time, emotions, heart, and dignity on someone who treats you like dirt. I learned this lesson long before I was ever a teenager. This is the lesson I wanted to share with Towel Girl(she was in a public area, therefore she was making HER business MINE and everyone else's business). And yes, I made a JUDGMENT from her behavior (have I never mentioned I have a psych degree? No? Well I DO.) that she might need something a bit more attention grabbing than a sweaty 30something walking up to her and telling her boys are stupid and to not waste her time. Hence the smacking.

4) I know I’m not perfect. I believe I’ve even said so, somewhere in my Blog. If not, I'll say it now, for the record, I am not perfect, never claimed to be, never expect to be because only GOD is perfect. And I don’t believe EVERYONE is wrong, just a very large portion of everyone.

5) I was unaware that stating that I love my mother, my husband, my siblings and my friends was negative. Or telling people to vote is negative. Or telling people it’s wrong to lie is negative. Or sharing how touched I was by my mom giving me my something blue to wear is negative. Or telling people that their zipper is wide open in public is negative. Or getting angry about tainted formula and dying babies is negative. Although I suppose anger can be viewed as negative, so you're right maybe I should have not said anything about innocent babies being killed by money hungry bastards. (oops! again with the negative! silly me.) Or sharing my embarrassment over melted cheese burning my boob is negative. But I could be wrong. Or maybe the personality test is wrong. Or maybe you just don’t get my sarcasm and humor. Actually, that last one is not a maybe, it's a reality.

6) You’re bossy. Telling me what I can and can not do concerning, um, MY OWN BLOG. Wow. Self important much? I also find it extremely telling that you don't give myself and what readers I may have a chance to peruse your blog, assuming you have one, because you commented ANONYMOUSLY. Hence shielding yourself from the same sort of negative comments you so freely leave here.
And yes, the name of MY Blog isn't Unicorns and Flowers, or Cotton Balls and Bunnies. It's about how being an adult can suck. Sometimes it sucks more than others. Sometimes, it doesn't suck at all. Usually though, the stuff that sucks is the most entertaining.

7) I think you might be a bit of a masochist. I mean seriously, “…....it's like my little form of self torture.” Falls right in with the definition: gratification gained from pain, deprivation, degradation, etc., inflicted or imposed on oneself, either as a result of one's own actions or the actions of others, esp. the tendency to seek this form of gratification.
And since I’m not a sadist, I AM going to tell you to STOP reading my Blog. I don’t want to give you an easy way to indulge your masochist tendencies.
I will never understand why anyone would continue to read something they don't like. Why? Why would you do it? It makes absolutely no sense what so ever. Unless it was required for a class or something. There have been Blogs that I quit reading because I didn't care for their content. It IS a choice. Don't blame me for the choice you make in reading my Blog.

8) So maybe, just maybe........you'll get it that I'm not posting to please you, or anyone else for matter.

Seriously.

This is so SWEAT!!!! *SWEET*(seriously, how did I miss the misspelling there?)

I opened my e-mail the other day to find I've been given an award by another blogger!!! That is so awesome. Thank You Sassy Two Socks!! You made my day!!!

I don't really know all that much Spanish, so I'm hoping this is a nice award!

So in the spirit of the rules of this award I must pass it along to 8 other Bloggers. I don't actually read 8 Blog, so I'll pass it along to those that I do. And here by include the mandatory sweetness:

"These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind Bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers! Deliver this award to eight Bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award."

So here are my nominees:

Pioneer Woman, you give me LOADS of amazing recipes that I have yet to try, but I will!!! And your kids are dang adorable!

April's Reign, you crack me up on a daily basis!

Each of Two, you say all the things I can't bring myself to say, you keep it REALZ.

Go Fug Yourself, you ladies keep the snark alive!

These Little Moments, Miss Molly my wedding day twin, you are a hair and shoe goddess!

Stupid People

This is an open Blog letter to the fools, and yes, there appears to be more than one, who think it's acceptable to ride a bike in the dark while wearing, BLACK.

Yes. While driving home 3x now, my headlights glinted off the metal on a bike which was coming at me. You rider, riding into on-coming traffic, was clothed, head to toe in BLACK. You even had your hood up to cover your head. You were riding on the shoulder of the road when nary 4 feet over was the SIDEWALK.

The other night as I turned out of the gym parking lot there you were AGAIN, in the ROAD riding into on coming traffic. WEARING SHORTS, it was 30 degrees out! This simply proves how mental you are. Once again, sidewalk? Four feet away. Why were you not on it? And you turned INTO the gym parking lot. The sidewalk would have lead you DIRECTLY to the BIKE STAND.
Please tell me how your approach is logical? I realize the law in our fair State says you have as much right to the road as a car, HOWEVER, that only applies if you are riding your bike in the same manner as you would drive a car. i.e. WITH TRAFFIC. IN A LANE. NOT on the SHOULDER. With proper lighting and reflective items so that we, the common drivers, don't almost kill you as we exit the gym because we simply CAN NOT SEE YOU. Because seriously, who is looking for a GUY on a BIKE at 8 pm at night, in NOVEMBER in 30 degree weather???
You are mentally deficient and need to be removed from interaction with the public at large.

Thank you, and Good Day.

I said, GOOD DAY!!!!

Sweat

F and I took some of our wedding money and joined the local community rec center. He keeps telling me we'll be doing a lot of walking on our Honeymoon and he doesn't want me whining about needing a nap in the middle of the day. (nice eh?) Since I got sick on our mini-moon, I didn't attend for about a week. When we started going I enjoyed the treadmill on the upper deck walk way and immediately fell in love with it's on board fans. I claimed it as my own. I knew from previous experience that using the incline was an excellent way to change up and vary your workout. So imagine my irritation when one night we went there and MY TREADMILL was occupied. I grudgingly start my workout on the elliptical right next to said treadmill. As I watched the woman, and her son, who very much did NOT meet the 16yr age rule, workout I became incensed. The woman was NOT using the incline AT ALL. All she varied was her speed, something she could have easily done on the TRACK. Then she got off the treadmill and went on, the TRACK. BUT ALAS! I was still blocked from my beloved treadmill by her SON who in no way was using the equipment properly, and still not meeting the age requirement. FINALLY they left and I claimed the treadmill as my own once again. When F came to check on my progress I angrily told him of the mother-son team and their misuse of MY TREADMILL.

F: "DH, it's not YOUR treadmill."
Me: "YES. IT.IS."
F: "You're crazy."
Me: "Whatever."

The next night my upper deck treadmill gave me a bird's eye view of the teenage girl, wrapped only in a towel (she actually had on a bathing suit underneath, but it was the same color as the towel so you really couldn't tell) as she alternately followed/stalked/cornered her boyfriend and tried to convince him to stay with her (i'm assuming that is what she was doing since I couldn't hear, but at one point she was crying and her body language was giving all the right 'break-up' cues.) I was horrified at her behavior. First, in public. Second, wrapped in A TOWEL. A TOWEL!!!!!! I so wanted to go grab her and tell her to have a little PRIDE for Fuck's sake! But I didn't dare leave my treadmill. The more I watched the more I wanted to smack some sense into her, HARD.
As we were leaving F spots her, he had seen bits of it. He does the side mouth talk: "That girl there? She was fighting with her boyfriend."

"YOU MEAN THE GIRL WITH NO PRIDE WHO WALKED AROUND IN PUBLIC IN A TOWEL!?!?!?"

F: "*sigh* Not so loud! Must you be like that? Judge everyone? Do you think you're better than her?"

Me: " I AM better than her! She has no pride! Behaving like that in public! Stupid girl! She needs a lesson in self worth. PA-THET-IC."

F: "You're crazy."

Me:"Whatever. I'm right."

Gross

The poop toilet at work, had a magazine folded into the handicap bars.
Seriously, this is a WORK PLACE, keeping your reading material for at home, emk?

No, You May Not

Things F wanted to eat after being sick: Blue Cheese(dairy is bad for your stomach per the doctor, when you have the BIG D). A hamburger(grease? um, no). Fried Chicken(again with the grease). Pizza(do you see the theme here?). An Orange(acid? on an upset stomach? Seriously???). Ice Cream(NO DIARY!).

When I was a child, and had been puking ill, the rules applied such as this:

1)No eating or drinking for 12 hours after. Eating or drinking just made you puke again.
2) Once the 12 hours had passed you were allowed water and dry toast. IF that stayed down you could add butter and jelly to the toast and the water could be turned into tea, with lemon and sugar, no MILK.
3) If you are too sick to go to school, you are too sick to sit up and watch TV.
4) You are not allowed to leave the house unless it's to go to the doctor or to pick up your meds. NO PLAYING OUTSIDE. (and no attending family parties to spread your illness around to the masses.)
5) Most of your time should be spent in bed, letting your body heal. No staying up late.
6) (something I've found I've had to add as an adult for F) NO SEX until you are Completely Well.

F claims that there were no such rules in his house and that he thinks I'm making them up. I am not.
What rules, my digital friends, were enforced in your home when you were sick?

Why I'm Not A Nurse

I know my profile says one of the jobs I'm suited for is being a Nurse. I highly disagree. A few years ago my young niece was hospitalized because she had a horrible case of Pneumonia. My sister was worn out and asked me to take a turn spending the night in the hospital. I of course agreed. And I felt like such a terrible horrible Aunt when about 5 hrs in I yelled at my niece to stop whining. I'm riddled with guilt to this day about my short fuse with an extremely ill 5 yr old.
That apparently however, doesn't stop me from being irritate with F, who became violently ill over the weekend. He laid in bed, teeth chattering and begged me to not leave him alone. All I wanted to do was make the bed across the hall so I would have somewhere to sleep while he was sick. I was not allowed. I was forced to lay on the bed beside him, while he slept. Luckily I had a book to read. When I was finally allowed to leave, I grumbled to myself as I made up the bed, "Does he honestly think that when we have kids and he gets sick that I'll be able to lay on the bed and keep him company? Doesn't he understand that the world doesn't stop when he's sick? Kids need to be feed, laundry needs to be done, food needs to be made!!!"

And then I felt bad. But I also knew I was right. The house can't stop being cared for just because one of us is sick.
Why are men this way? Every woman I know cares for herself, her family and probably still goes to work when she is sick. Men need to be coddled. Am I wrong? Someone please explain this to me!

This morning when I left F to come to work I told him:
"F, I'm leaving to go to work. I'll be back at lunch."
"Why?"
"So I can come take care of you."
"*a dismissive wave of his hand* You don't need to, I'm fine, I'm better."
"Ok, well I'll come home anyway. No going anywhere, no eating more than crackers and water, ok?"
"Yeah. Can't you take the whole day off?"


HUH!?!?!?!?!

Too Casual?

As I was leaving for work on Friday I saw my neighbor lady, the one who feels the need to make comments about the state of our lawn and garden all summer long, and said hello.

Me: "Hey Lawn Nazi Neighbor Lady!"

Lawn Nazi Neighbor Lady: "Hi DH! How's the new bride?"

Me: "Good!"

Lawn Nazi Neighbor Lady: "Where are you off to today?" (she's also our real estate agent and found us Tenant, she was dressed in a pant suit and even when she goes to the gym she is in full make-up and coiffed hair.).

Me: "I'm going to work. "

Lawn Nazi Neighbor Lady: (in a total mom voice) "Dressed like THAT?"

Me: "Only on Fridays."

Lawn Nazi Neighbor Lady: "Oh. How........ nice. How is married life going?"

Me: "Really good."

Lawn Nazi Neighbor Lady: "Great! That's Great. Ok, well, I'll talk to you later!"

Me: "Ok, see you later!"

Lawn Nazi Neighbor Lady: "Have a good day!"

Me: "You too!"

My outfit? F's long sleeved army green sweater shirt with small navy and white stripes across the chest, boot cut jeans and my hippie tan leather clogs.
I thought I looked cute. And I had a really hard time putting an outfit together that morning.
She apparently thought I look homeless.

*la sigh*

I Got Special Band-Aids

F and I are going to the Homeland for our Honeymoon. This little 3.5 week trip requires us to get shots.
Me and needles? We’re not all that friendly.
However, the chance of being sick far Far FAR from home in a country that’s not as medically advanced as the U.S.A., made me suck it up and get the shots.
5 so far.
All in one sitting.
Thankfully spilt between my 2 arms.
I didn’t eat breakfast.
I didn’t eat lunch.
I didn’t pass out, but I came close.
I figured because the appointment was just after lunch time I would be in and out in 30mins and get lunch on my way back to the office.
Uh, not so much.
Because I’d skipped breakfast (the bagels were downstairs in the freezer and I was too lazy/late to go dig them out.) I was extra hungry by lunch. Mr Flipz White Fudge covered pretzels don’t really fill that gap, let me tell ya. The 30min appointment turned into an hour and a half. An hour of telling me all things to avoid and discussing which shots I would be getting. And then sharing travel stories and 40 minutes of shots. Those extra 10 minutes came from me having to lay down so I didn’t fall off the table.
I was already quite hungry when I reached the office. As the minutes ticked by my hunger started to affect my ability to focus. By the time we made it into the room where the shots were administered I was feeling faint and ill. I was having a really hard time focusing on the Nurse’s face and watching her prepare the needles wasn’t helping my anxiety any. The first 2 shots heightened my anxiety and I got hot and started to sweat.
The Nurse switched to my other arm: “I’ve spread out the ones that hurt most between the two arms.”
Me: “Great, thanks.” (please Jesus, just finish already!)
Nurse: “Ok, almost done. *pause* Are you alright?”
Me: “Yep, sure.” (I thought for sure I was gonna puke.)
Nurse: “Are you sure? Maybe you should lay down.”
Me: “I’m ok.” (stop chattin and stick me already!)
Nurse: “Here, lie down. I’ll put your feet up in a second. Lie back.”
Me: “Uh, ok.” (the second I leaned back my empty stomach lurched, oh crap)
Nurse: “That better?”
Me: “Yeah, just the anxiety, and I get hot and then I freak more because I know my anxiety is up, just waiting for something to happen.”
Nurse: “It the flight or fight kicking in.”

She went on to explain it all to me and I calmed down considerably.

Me: “Boy, I must have looked pretty bad for you to say something. Hahaha”
Nurse: “See the color of the wall there? (a pale cream color) that was the color of your face.”
Me: “oh. Well I didn’t eat.”
Nurse: “WHAT! You should ALWAYS eat before eating shots!”
Me: “I realize that now.”

So I got some special band-aids, Princesses, and a juice box before I left the office.
I felt stupid for not eating and I just felt icky from the shots and the lack of food and ugh.

So yes, I may have to go back if my Mumps, Measles and Rubella aren’t up to date.
I’ll be stopping at Mickey D’s that time.

I'm all About the Love

I was reading The Country Doctor's Wife and decided to take this personality test as well. Here are my results, and they're pretty freakin' right on too:

Guardian™ Portrait of the Provider (ESFJ)

Providers take it upon themselves to insure the health and welfare of those in their care, but they are also the most sociable of all the Guardians, and thus are the great nurturers of social institutions such as schools, churches, social clubs, and civic groups. Providers are very likely more than ten percent of the population, and this is fortunate for the rest of us, because friendly social service is a key to their nature. Wherever they go, Providers happily give their time and energy to make sure that the needs of others are met, and that social functions are a success.
Highly cooperative themselves, Providers are skilled in maintaining teamwork among their helpers, and are also tireless in their attention to the details of furnishing goods and services. They make excellent chairpersons in charge of dances, banquets, class reunions, charity fund-raisers, and the like. They are without peer as masters of ceremonies, able to speak publicly with ease and confidence. And they are outstanding hosts or hostesses, knowing everyone by name, and seemingly aware of what everyone's been doing. Providers love to entertain, and are always concerned about the needs of their guests, wanting to make sure that all are involved and provided for.
Friendly, outgoing, neighborly - in a word, Providers are gregarious, so much so that they can become restless when isolated from people. They love to talk with others, and will often strike up a conversation with strangers and chat pleasantly about any topic that comes to mind. Friendships matter a great deal to Providers, and their conversations with friends often touch on good times from years past. Family traditions are also sacred to them, and they carefully observe birthdays and anniversaries. In addition, Providers show a delightful fascination with news of their friends and neighbors. If we wish to know what's been going on in the local community, school, or church, they're happy to fill us in on all the details.
Providers are extremely sensitive to the feelings of others, which makes them perhaps the most sympathetic of all the types, but which also leaves them somewhat self-conscious, that is, highly sensitive to what others think of them. Loving and affectionate themselves, they need to be loved in return. In fact, Providers can be crushed by personal criticism, and are happiest when given ample appreciation both for themselves personally and for the tireless service they give to others.
William Howard Taft (pretty freaking good personality company, eh?), Barbara (Wah Wah)Walters, J C Penney, Ray Kroc, Louis B. Mayer, Sam Walton, Dolley Madison, and Dave Thomas are examples of Provider Guardians.

What are your personality types dear Digital Friends?

Moving On

I would imagine you are all tired of the Wedding re-cap. I know my brain has become mushy as to the details of the events. One last thing I forgot to tell you all, and then we'll move on to other things.
The day after the wedding, F took his family about town, where he got a fat and happy Homeland lunch from his relatives and then took them shopping for "Homeland" groceries to take back East with them.
I got cold leftover pizza.
Cleaned the house.
Took CBF to the airport.

Why did I clean the house the day after my wedding you ask???? Because F decided it would be a fabu idea to have all the leftover out of towners over for wedding leftovers.
I had 30 people in my house.
By the end of the night my knees had crumbled and my thighs were screaming with pain. I was tired, hot, in pain, nauseous and not in a good mood.

Not at all how I'd pictured my first day as a married woman.
My picture involved fluffy pillows, darken windows, soft sheets and meals in bed.

I did have a good time with his family though. His Aunts and Uncles are such nice people. There were a lot of laughs during the present opening. I think I truly endeared myself with his Aunts, always a good. I in fact can't wait to see them again. They made me laugh. All in all, it was a good way to wrap things up.
On to Thank You notes!

A Wedding: The Highlights (and lowlights)

We arrived at the reception to cheers. It was exciting. The food was great, what little of it I actually ate and the music was bumpin’ as the kids say.
F and I were both distressed at how many people left between 8 and 9 pm. But once I got out on the dance floor I didn’t care. I danced all night long (my knees killed for the next 3 days) and didn’t speak to a good 70% of our guests. Since F wasn’t in a dancing mood, he made the rounds for us.
I had a fabulous time dancing with my girls; we ended the night on the floor belting out “Sweet Home Alabama”.

Some Highs:
- F giving me my locket.
- During the ceremony my 2 yr old nephew made a break for it, trying to reach his dad (my brother) up on the alter. Behind us you could hear “LT! NO!” and hear the pounding of little kid feet before ES-BIL grabbed him. On the tape you can see our photographer look startled, make a half-hearted grab for him as he went flying by and then ES-BIL reach out and snatch him up. It’s quite entertaining.
- Again, we go to tape to see my niece, the flower girl reach out and try to slow down F’s nephew, the ring bearer, from racing down the aisle. She was unsuccessful.
- After F kissed me when we met at the alter Old Priest called us out and told us we’d have to do everything all over again, I begged him not to make me walk down the stairs again.
- F passing the poem I wrote him up and down the head table for everyone to read.

Some Lows:
- F’s friends leaving their trash for someone else (namely me) to pick up the morning of the wedding.
- F deciding that he didn’t like CBF because she told him she was analyzing him as he folded his clothes.(she was joking, maybe)
- W (F’s brother) showing me dirty jokes on his cell phone during the reception. Why?????
- W welcoming me into the family to which I responded, “I hope you treat me well” and he said, “Fuck that, I’m not going to treat you any better than that fat bitch over there.” (his wife that he’s leaving in a year.) (WTF???)
- M in his best man speech referencing his 12 day marriage.
- M answering his hotel room door, exposed. When he asked me if I was impressed I said, “Yeah, if you were a puppy.” (WTF? It was my wedding night!)

The greatest high (after actually getting married to F that is) came from an unexpected place, FIL. Who after spending 4 days surrounded by my family and friends told my Aunt that he was jealous of how supporting and loving my family was and that he understood that F was where he belonged.

Killed ‘em with kindness. Yeah baby, YEAH.

A Wedding in Bits and Pieces: Piece 3: the WEDDING

I was tired. I’ll admit it. I wanted my hair appointment to be later in the day. I hit the snooze. I didn’t bounce out of bed. I finally did get up, and went to put coffee on for my guests. I stumbled into the shower where I realized this was my last shower as a single woman. It’s weird. The little things you think of as your “lasts” when you are getting married. I was so glad I was surrounded by my friends that morning. They relaxed me and I enjoyed having them there to share all this excitement with me.
In all the excitement, A and I left to go to the salon, our appointments were in shifts. R was in charge of the last shift, which meant going to get MIL and bringing her to the salon. Problem? Yeah, I parked R in and we took A’s car to the salon. R calls me, I was already in the chair, as was A. Spare keys? There are none. So I had to call F, who was at the airport getting the passenger van. It was a cluster. And R was none too pleased when she arrived, 30mins late for her hair appointment. CBF went and got MIL, they were both late as well. A and I dashed up to Costco to get food for everyone, and R calls me again, “Where are you?” Poor R, she got quite a lot of the shaft that day. I was 5 mins late getting back to the house where again, poor R hated her hair and ended up doing it herself anyway. (I found out later MIL did the same thing because she didn’t like her helmet head hair. *sigh*)
My hair was fabulous. Just sayin.
I got my make-up done by my fabulous Mary Kay Lady. It was all a blur and I’m not sure she did all the little treatments she said she was going to do, like I know we didn’t do the lip softening thingie. Anyway, make-up was fabu, the sandwiches we got from Costco, excellent call because Second Eldest Sister and her man hadn’t eaten, and I hadn’t either. And Sailor Mouth kept me from putting my lip stick on until “AFTER YOU PUT YOUR DRESS ON”. (somehow I still managed to get lipstick in the hip region of my dress??????) It was a flurry of activity! SES finished applying her makeup while Eldest Sister re-strung my necklace to include the locket from F. R and CBF got their make-up done. SES-BIL (second eldest brother in law) packed the van with all the crap we would need and even Febrezed it because he said it smelled. Finally we all clamored into the van and headed to the church. I think CBF even sang “We’re going to the chapel and you’re gonna get maaaaaaaaaaarried!”
It was all so surreal. The Church was so quiet. Because it was raining it felt kind of cocooned. It was really calming; I can’t wait to see the pictures. The photographer was a little late and CBF had to prod her into taking pictures.
I was alone in the bridal “suite” when Old Priest came up. “Let me see your hands.”
I flashed my hands to him, he was checking to make sure I’d removed my engagement ring to my other hand. “Good girl. Now I need you to sign these, 3 copies.”

My marriage license.
This was it. I was signing something legal to make me a wife.

“How do I sign? Do I sign for who I am NOW or for who I’m GOING to be in about an hour?”
“That’s up to you.” (thanks for the help there padre)

I signed as who I was going to be. So weird.
I was dressed.
My lipstick was on.
I’d de-shined my nose.
Some pictures had been taken. (not all the group shots I’d wanted, I was a little ticked.)
I was alone. All my girls had gone downstairs to line up for their entrance.
I fingered my locket as I said a quiet prayer to my Dad.
The music started.
I could see nothing! I was told I couldn’t come to the front of the choir loft because people would see me. I peeked out around the wall, I HAD to see!
I saw F. Alone at the end of the aisle.
Surreal.
My girls and his guys made their ways down the aisle.
The music changed.
I jumped as the wedding coordinator told me to go to the head of the stairs.
Oh sweet goodness. I was so HIGH UP!
I started down the stairs, and I was doing fine without the railing, until my heel caught in the carpet. I reached out and gripped the railing. I slowing made my way down. And there was mom, waiting with my flowers.
I saw nothing. I had tunnel vision, and yet I couldn’t focus on F. The aisle seemed so long.

I didn’t faint. Is that what you thought I was getting at? Well it isn’t. I couldn’t focus on F, not because I was about to faint, but because I was just so, I can’t explain. I saw him, I saw the people in the pews, and yet I saw nothing at all. It was dream like. So no, I didn’t fall down the stairs. And no, I didn’t faint. So stop waiting for a disaster. geeez.


We reached the end of aisle and mom handed me off to F who kissed her on the cheek.
And then, F kissed me.
BUSTED by Old Priest. NO KISSING before the “I Dos”!!!!
Everyone laughed.
I was still in dream world.
I didn’t shed a tear.(neither did he)
My voice didn’t crack.(neither did his)
It was just F and me.
I saw no one but him.
My heart fluttered as we said our vows.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
WE WERE MARRIED.
Everyone clapped.
We walked back down the aisle as husband and wife, hand in hand.
As everyone cleared out of the Church it was just F, our 2 photographers and ES-BIL(eldest sister_brother in law) who was driving us to the reception.
It was quiet.
The dream world held us in our bubble.
I fingered the ring on F's hand.
We smiled at each other.
We were married.

A Wedding in Bits and Pieces: Bit 3: A Special Moment During the Rehearsal Dinner

I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this or not, and some of you may be astute enough to notice, I’ve never mentioned my own father. He passed away when I was nine. There have been a few times in my life when the lack of his presence has been more obvious and gaping than others. When I made the softball team in high school. When I graduated from High School. When I was accepted and then graduated from college. When I purchased my first home and had to live through the first home improvement projects. And of course most recently, when I got married. I love my mother, I’ve said so often here. And I was proud to buck the system and have her walk me down the aisle. However, there were plenty of times during the whole wedding prep process when all my locked away feelings concerning my father’s absence came charging forward and F would come upon me in front of the TV or listening to a song on the radio, and I would be a complete snotty tear soaked mess. The last few weeks’ right before the wedding I was so consumed, and so medicated, that I never gave this fatherly absence a thought. Until we were passing out present at the rehearsal dinner. We gave flowers to our mothers, presents to the bridal party and flowers to Eldest Sister, where I collapsed into tears trying to thank her for her amazing work on my dress. I’m sure no one understood a word of my blubbering thank you.

Let me go back about 3 days before this night. I was frantically running around trying to get the poem I wrote for F for his wedding present, framed. I was on my cell with my mom when she tells me, “OH! Your honey is trying to call me, I’m gonna have to let you go.”
I thought nothing of it. When I arrived at her house and casually questioned her, she grew silent, “I can’t tell you.”
“Really?”
I continued on with my quest, which I finished and it looks amazing, btw.
When I arrived home I cornered F, “I just want you to know, that I know, that you and my mother are up to something together.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Whatever.”
As I was cleaning out the truck, which F normally drives, I found an old photo, of my family.
“AH-HA! What is this? What are you doing with this??!?!?!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Jump back to the Rehearsal dinner.
F asks for everyone’s attention, one last time, and I look at him bewildered, what did we forget? He holds his arm out to me and I snuggle comfortably against him.
F: “I’m sure most of you are aware of this, but DH’s father is unable to be here with us. (I shake my head in agreement as the tears return) So he can’t walk her down the aisle. ( I lose it as my hands start shaking) So I want her to have this to wear down the aisle so he can be with her.” He hands me a small gold box, inside is a white gold heart shaped locket. Containing a very small, very old, picture of my father. My hands were shaking so badly and my vision so blurred by tears that I couldn’t get the locket open. F had to do it for me. It was a gift of such caring, such understanding, I was beside myself. Thank you couldn’t express everything I was feeling.

My father could walk with me down the aisle.

The next day Eldest Sister sat on my living room floor and attached said locket to the necklace that her own daughter had crafted for me to wear on my wedding day.
I fingered that locket all day long. It comforted and calmed me in a way that is hard to explain.
I am so glad F is my husband. I couldn’t ask for anyone better.


I found out several days later that my friend from England, A was the keeper of the locket that day and she kept psyching out R(my childhood friend since 1st grade) that F was going to give it to me. We both got a good laugh out of that.


I just have to let you know I teared up the entire time I was writing this, made typing not so easy, plus I had to keep stopping to blow my nose.

Don't Lie

I hate when people lie.
I especially hate when people lie to ME.
So when I called the Travel Clinic (we have to get shots to travel to The Homeland for our honeymoon) last night and left them a message to please call me, and I then call them again this morning only to have the lady say, "Oh, I just called you and left a message." *pause* (Like I was suppose to acknowledge that she'd just called) "Oh?" I said. Thinking, uh, I've been sitting here for the last few hours and my phone hasn't rung so, uh, NO you didn't just call and leave a message.
That's called a lie. I don't take kindly to lies.
Especially when you are going to charge me $75 bucks just to walk through your doors.
Nope, not kindly at all.

A Wedding in Bits and Pieces: Piece 2: The Rehearsal

Arriving at the house after our pampering and lunch, I found F, fully dressed and waiting for his buddies to arrive. Which they did, with their women, and their WHITE CASTLE food. That shit stinks! (And I was none too pleased to find the table littered with their trash the MORNING of the wedding. Seriously? Trash can? Anyone?)
Anyway, SM raced back up to her hotel to get ready while my girls, A, R and CBF and I all crammed into our bedroom to watch me get dress and to get dressed themselves. We completely ignored F and his buddies. More laughing and joking, tons of hairspray and my hair still went flat! We raced out the door to pick up flowers for our mothers and my sister before heading to the church (the girls went separate from the guys.)

I just have to inject here that M, F’s jerky friend? Tried to make some cutting remark to me in front of everyone as we girls were leaving and I looked at him for a sec and then in a voice cold as ice said, “You seem to misunderstand this, in order for me to be hurt but what you say, I have to care what you think. *pause for effect* I don’t.”
Stunned silence, broken by one of my gals snickering “BURN!” as I whirled on my heel and left.
Man that felt good.

Ahem, continuing…….

Half way to the flower shop I made a frantic call to F because I’d forgotten the Unity Candle! He didn’t answer the phone so I left a message and then I called his buddy, L.

Me: “L! have you left yet?”
L: “No, we pulled back into the driveway and F went back inside for something.”
Me: “Thank god! I forgot the unity candle! It’s on the dresser.”
L: “Here he comes…(yelling out the window) F! you need to get the…oh, unity candle. That’s what he went back in for.”
Me: “Excellent!”

A mess of nerves. That was me. A complete mess of nerves. I was more nervous doing the pretend walk than I was doing the actual walk. I didn’t think I was going to make it. But I did. Coming down those choir loft stairs, holy cow, that was daunting. All my BM’s agreed that I should give my mom my flowers on the day of , until I made it down the stairs because as my loving sisters put it, “You were really shaky, weaving all over the place.” As I came down the stairs the first time, my mom said to me, “Are you ready to do this?”
Me: “I think so.”
Mom: “You THINK so? You better KNOW so. There’s still time to change your mind you know.”
Me: “I know, but I won’t.”
Mom: “Good. He’s a good man.”
Good ole mom, tell it like it is sister girl!

SM and A wore jeans to the rehearsal! Even after I had my mom send a motherly e-mail reminding them that there was a dress code. I can’t tell you how many people said they changed their clothing choice after getting the e-mail from “Mom DH. Whoa.”
But it was ok, they didn’t look dumpy, which was really good, but still annoying.
I had a small moment of clarity/panic as F and I were addressing everyone in the Church.
Me: “ (…..)so tomorrow. Whoa, TOMORROW. Oh, wow, yeah, TOMORROW.” As I grabbed my heart feeling slightly overwhelmed. They all laughed.

We headed out convoy style to the dinner portion of the night. Good food, great friends and family and many tears(from me, annoying I know) and the night was over.
We arrived back at the house and F and I said goodnight for the last time as an engaged couple….. as he left to go drinking with his uncle.
We girls were not invited.
Rude.

A Wedding in Bits and Pieces: Bit 2: Morning of Rehearsal

A, CBF, R (who drove down that morning) and SM and I all piled into the car for some much needed pampering, MANIs and PEDIs!!!!! YAY!!!!! The place we went I’d never been to before and their massage chairs kinda sucked, but we still had a good time. Even though they could only do 2 of us at a time. Even though I’d booked ahead, for all 4 of us. (SM was just “watching” due to cost.) CBF went first. They took her around a glass brick wall and we could hear her chatting away with the Nice Nail Lady and then her chatting broke into perils of laughter!!! We waited, but it continued so we all tromped around the wall to see CBF practically coming out of her chair because the tool the Nice Nail Lady was using tickled her feet. The Nice Nail Lady invited us to sit in the empty chairs and just hang until it was our turn. A was next. She also got the Nice Nail Lady and she too laughed as the tool was applied to her feet. (CBF, horrified, told me later about the “stuff that was flying off of A’s feet!” as the tool was applied.) I was next. But I got the Mean Nail Lady (really, are you surprised by this?). I also found myself falling into fits of giggles as the Mean Nail Lady applied the tool my feet. It seriously tickled. After all our feet were done we tromped, toe spreaders and foam flip-flops, around the glass wall to the manicure area.

Mean Nail Lady: “What you want?” (I’m not being racist here, I have yet to encounter a non-Asian nail person in the “nails only” salons, and this is how they all talk.)

Me: “A French manicure, but pink.”

Mean Nail Lady: “French Manicure ONLY WHITE.”

Me: “I’ve seen where they are a light pink color too; I’m not sure what it’s called though.” (my girls were all clueless and completely non-helpful in this exchange, none of us get manicures on a regular basis.)

Mean Nail Lady: “French Manicure WHITE!”

Me: “but, my dress is cream………..”

Mean Nail Lady: “French manicure always WHITE.”

Me: “ok. White.”

With that settled, she set to work. I’d broken 2 nails during the week and I have one that grows wonky from the last time I had fake nails put on so she grudgingly slapped on 3 nail tips (you boys asleep yet? I promise, I’m almost done.) and proceeded to file the HELL out of my nails. I have to admit, I rocked the WHITE French tips, and my friend R got the same thing and we decided days later that getting French tip manicures was something we’d both get more often from now on.
We laughed and joked and shoved each other at the drying table, it was a BLAST. Then it was time to leave. I was shoving my shoes on as all my girls rushed out the door together.

Me: “WAIT! I still have to PAY!”

Mean Nail Lady: “No pay, she pay already.”

Me: “What? Who?”

Mean Nail Lady: “She.”

CBF: (sticking her head around the corner) “I paid punkin.”

Me: “Oh, wow! Thanks!”

Mean Nail Lady: “Congratulations.”

Me: “Thanks!”

To this day I don’t know if the woman got a tip or not, because I didn’t give her one and I never remembered to ask CBF if she did or not.
Then we headed to Chili’s for lunch, we were all starved! Chili’s rocks my world, but I stayed away from their El Presidente Margarita, I didn’t want to be tipsy during rehearsal.

After lunch we RUSHED back to the house to get ready for.......... THE REHEARSAL!!!!!!!!!!!

This Is Why It Sucks *UPDATED*

Adulthood sucks.
My blog was originally based on this theory, and it seems that perhaps maybe we've gotten away from that. So I'm gonna take us back.
Remember we rented my house? And Tenant was working out well, saving the basement and all, but now? Now, Tenant is on the shit list. Tenant is late with the rent. The rent was due on the 27th, it's the 4th. The Tenant called me on the 27th so he could drop it off while we were out of town. I told him to take it to the neighbor's. He never did.
F called him, he said he put it in the mail. It didn't come.
Now F wants to go to the house and confront him.
I find this scary.
Like seriously scary.
What if Tenant freaks out?
What if Tenant hurts F?
Too much.
This sucks.

****UPDATE******
Tenant sent the money, MONDAY, not Wednesday of last week like he said, and I'm kinda hacked off that he lied to us. However, he's in the process of placing his 85 yr old mother in Hospice. ( we have no way of confirming this.) So we are letting him slide, this time, on the late fees. Let us hope there won't be another time.

A Wedding in Bits and Pieces: Bit 1: Girls’ Night In

After I cleared out the house of in-laws (or as CBF calls them out-laws, and recovered from SIL's A-Bomb statement) CBF, SM, A (my friend from England) and I settled in for homemade pizza and booze. We laughed, we swore, we practiced hurling to the right, or to the groom’s side, and I shared a few horror stories about the soon to be out-laws. We had a really good time. There were a few weird moments when I was hit full force with just how out of touch SM really is. She really is a redneck, and love her though I do, she must be taken in small doses.
CBF came close to having me explode all over her when she made one too many cutting remarks about what I’m not sure, but I know I put her in her place by reminding her that she’d gotten her own way about the BM dress. She too must be taken in small doses.
A? A is an absolute ANGEL! She is so funny and totally takes the piss out of everyone. I am so glad I have her as a dear dear friend!
Having them over really helped me relax. It was great to just sit and chat with the gals. I wish we could do it more.
And if you ever want to know how to handle a drunken bridesmaid or how to stop the hiccups or locate a missing groom go get this book. It is a hoot and offered hours of fun and laughter as well as some really practical info. Like how to fart without making any noise. I swear, it’s true! It even tells you how to blame it on someone else! We got loads of laughs out of this book. The groomsmen even read it. I’m telling you, BUY THIS BOOK as a shower gift. It will be a huge hit.
Anyway, we called it a night about 10:30pm, what can I say, we’re getting old(and they all had jet-lag). And F rolled in from “just going to get the tuxes” at about 11pm.

Me: “Sooooo, get the tuxes alright???”
F: “Uh, yeah. Why?”
Me: “Right, that’s what you told me you were going to do go do like 4 hours ago.”
F: “Um, whatever. It’s a long story.”
Me: “Did you go to a strip club?”
F: “Yeah.”
Me: “*sigh* UGH! You stink like smoke!!! Go take a shower!”
F: “*shoving his chest in my face* smeeeeellllll!!!!!! YAY BABY!!!!”
Me: “GAG! You are SOOOO not crawling into bed smelling like that! Go! Shower!”
F: “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH”


This is the man I’m marrying in 2 days. Oh brother.


Next: The Morning of REHEARSAL......

Rock the Vote

It is a historic election.

F voted for the first time EVER.

He got emotional.
It was so sweet.

It reminded me that we should never take this PRIVILEGE for granted.

Stop being lazy and get out there and VOTE, no matter who you vote for.

And if you live in another country that also has the PRIVILEGE of the vote, bless you. I hope you don't become lazy.

And if you live in a country that doesn't have the privilege of the vote, I hope you fight for it.

*This public service announcement brought to you today by first time voters everywhere.*

God bless us all.

A Wedding In Bits and Pieces, Piece 1: The Arrivals

It's dark outside in the mornings now, have you noticed? It's especially dark when you know you are about to bring mass confusion into your humble little home. F and I arrived at the airport, and parked our 2 vehicles and went inside to await the ARRIVAL. W was the first to come into sight, far ahead of the others, completely ditching his wife and kids. (i'm sure we're all shocked by that.) The rest came tumbling after, MIL, FIL, SIL, Uncle, and the kids. It was like herding cats. Sailor Mouth was texting me the entire time, we'd just missed them, they were picking up their rental car. SIL? Talked NON-STOP the entire ride to the house, where SM was waiting. And let the pandemonium begin! 3 women, one small kitchen, 5 men who couldn't be bothered, CRAZINESS. Getting everyone feed was no easy task, but it was accomplished. I do not do speed cooking well my friends, not well at all. I am no match for SIL. It's kinda sad. Anyway, SM and her man just sat there and watched, SM smiling to herself, reading the family members as they passed her line of sight, ready to give me a full report later. (she was dead on, btw) God bless early check-in!!!!!!!!!!! We hustled them all off to the hotel. Then, silly me, offered to try and find SIL a hair dresser. Have I ever mentioned that SIL is part Jamaican? So the women at my white girl salon were completely unable to handle her hair? Um, yeah. So she and I climb back into the car, and the verbal assault began. Lord help me and my bleeding ears.


SIL: "Hair hair hair hair hair, Do You Understand What I'm SAYING!?!?!? hair hair hair hair, I'm leaving W in two years, as soon as I'm done with school. hair hair hair hair."


Um, sorry, what? Did she just lay it out there that she's leaving her husband in 2 yrs 2 days before MY wedding?

You better believe it!
And the "Do You UNDERSTAND WHAT I'M SAYING??!!!??" made me feel small and uneducated, even though I understood everything she said. She's a force, let me tell ya.

But I survived ARRIVAL TIME OVERLOAD with only a small headache and a still festering wound to my cooking skills.

Next, Girls' Night In.................

1 Week

F just called me and wished me a Happy Anniversary!

Me: "Not yet!"

F: " Oh brother! Do I have to wait until tonight and say it again?"

Me: "hahaha, NO! Happy one week, HUSBAND!"

F: "oh please!"

1 week people, I've been married one week!

Here, Here

Ok Digital kids, I'm here, and I'm MARRIED!!!!!
Things went very well. And I'm going to try and give you a blow by blow just as soon as I can. I got sick on our mini-moon and I have much to tell!!!!!

And just to let you know, F will be staying F, there'd be much too much confusion to make him into H.

I'm a MRS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!