Because it's my day off and there is nothing worth watching on TV....

• While engaged in surveillance in the baking aisle yesterday I discovered that at $2.88 an ounce, pure vanilla extract runs $368.64 a gallon. If you think paying $2.34 a gallon for gasoline is bad, just be glad your car doesn't run on vanilla!
• Vanilla extract is commonly stolen and consumed in grocery stores as a tasty alcoholic beverage. It's an easy target for alcoholic shoplifters but if you were to buy it by the pint as one might in a liquor store we're talking $46.08 or $97.92 a liter! It would be cheaper to buy Hennessey.
• There are 28 messages (and counting) on our Comcast voice mailbox, but we don't know how to access the messages... so if you left us a message, we didn't get it.
• I have 467 unopened emails in my AOL mailbox, so if you wrote to me there, I didn't get it. I remember when I used to stare at the little mailbox and wait for the mailman to say 'You've got mail', then pounce on the little envelope to see who was writing to me. I am no longer excited by promises of penile enlargement.
• Foamy rocks! <-- clicky (warning, heavy sarcasm and profanity)
• So does Mr. President! <-- clicky (re-post, but I really REALLY love this)
• Bush wasn't a popular president (I liked him), but he's looking better and better every day.
• With just 85 days until Christmas there is still time to make it to the Nice list. Quick, send me chocolate and I'll put in a good word for you.
• Of all the possible letter, symbol and space combinations, this is what I found today. Beware, tomorrow is another day off!

Bleep.. bleep, bleep (censored)

I have been blogging about my life for over 5 years now. I blog about every thing, the good, the bad, the ugly and the smelly in my life. I blog about work, I blog about my football team (go BRONCOS!), I blog about my pets... the goldfish eating goldfish, the shit eating dog and the dog eating cat... I blog about the mess in my kitchen and the absence of toilet paper in my bathroom. But mostly I blog about my kids, my husband and myself.

And more recently I have blogged about how my chaotic, imperfect but for the most part happy life was turned upside down. Blogging has been therapeutic for me. It served as a vent and helped me through this extreme life changing event.

But I have been asked not to blog about this particular subject any more because it has upset the delicate balance of parallel lives.

Interesting.....

Can you say 'tough titty'?!

Yeah, well, apparently I can't and I agreed not to blog about... that which I have agreed not to blog about.

Which leaves me little else to blog about except for the same ole, same ole!

(Sorry gang, not my fault!)

So, here goes Dust Bunny, censored edition:

Rocky brought home some little goldfish she won at the Colorado State Fair and we placed them in the tank with Henry, the homicidal goldfish. Nobody has seen the littlest one for over a week. Ironically Henry seems to have grown a little and he appears to be smiling. In other news, we are down to 4 rolls of toilet paper from the 24 pack Santa (aka Gabe) delivered 9 days ago. That's more than 2 rolls a day! Amazing.

And how about them BRONCOS!

Christmas in September?

Santa Claus visited the House of Oompa sometime after midnight, bearing gifts of Fruit Loops, 2% milk, boxes of Mac and Cheese, cans of Spam and Corned Beef Hash and tons of Gatorade.
And coffee creamer... lots and lots of coffee creamer!

He also brought bottles of shampoo, body wash and a couple of razors. Girl razors. ("So the girls will leave my fricken razor alone!" grumbled Santa)

Anyhow, it was a welcomed visit and the fridge and cupboards are full of junk. Good junk! But best of all, he also brought a 24 count family pack of toilet paper. That should last us through the week end.

Thanks Santa. You're a good son!

Because somebody asked...

No, I don't make this stuff up.

If I were, for starters, I'd make myself happy and with the body of a 20 year old. Not fat like I was at 20, but a boobilicious 20 year old, with perfect teeth, a perfect body, a gorgeous face and no split ends.

I would drive a really cool car, like a '65 Mustang, or a 2009 Challenger... I'd have a loving husband, my kids would be honor students or CEO's in million dollar corporations, and I wouldn't have to work other than to pull up my stock portfolios once daily to see how much I'm worth. And of course I'd have a new camera, a Nikon D5000 would be nice.

No, this is all factual. If you were to show up on my door step right now you would find my house exactly as I have described it... messy, noisy and smelly, with a shit eating dog, a dog eating cat, a goldfish eating goldfish, 5 kids of various ages, sizes and shapes, a husband on the couch with one eye on the TV and the other on his computer, the remove near one hand and a cell phone in the other. And I would be banging on a dusty computer keyboard instead of getting ready for work, which starts in less than half an hour. My hair would be unbrushed, my feet bare and I'd be trying to remember whether I put on deodorant or not. But supper is done so the family will get to eat tonight... although only time will tell if I get to or not... it depends on who all shows up at the door step at supper time and if they leave any left overs for me.

Yes, this is my life, and it is all real. How about yours? Think about it, is it really as good as you think or is it just wishful thinking? Don't ask me, listen to your heart, it already knows the answer.

All about me....

I need:

• A good night's sleep.


• Beer and truffles.



• A quiet place to think.



• A sound proof room to scream in.



• Scratch the beer, I need Absolut Black.



• And truffles!

Just a little ventilation.

I have chronic 'Foot In Mouth Disease'. It's incurable, and my prognosis is bleak. I open my mouth and speak my mind then almost in slow motion yet always way too late, I realize what I have just said but the damage is already done. When will I ever learn that sometimes what's on one's mind is best left in one's mind.

I said that some woman 'either has big balls or no balls. Either way, if I were her, I would not be in her position.' What I was attempting to communicate was that in her place I would have handled her situation differently. Compliment or poorly veiled insult? I'm not even sure myself how I truly intended it to be, but judging by the ensuing silence after the sharing of said comment, it was probably taken as an insult.

It's not that I mis-spoke, I just should not have spoken at all. I should have kept it to myself. Shoulda, shoulda, shoulda! Grrrrrrrrrr!

Oh well, c'est la vie. Such is life. Grow some balls but keep it real! Here's some violin music to go with that whine!

Uh oh, I think I just did it again. Damn! See what I mean? It's chronic!

By the way, that's Becca in the picture down by the pond yesterday. She took last year off from Orchestra so she could concentrate on other classes but as promised she is back in Strings this year. Some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Becca was born with a violin in her hands, they were just meant to be together, her and the violin.

Steaks, wedding gowns and sunflowers... oh my!

I'm supposed to be Memorial Park taking pictures of hot air balloons. But then again, it's supposed to be sunny but it's not. It's over cast and gloomy. I'll try again tomorrow morning. Besides, I'm sore. I got in a tussle with some huge gorilla of a man who wanted some steaks but didn't want to pay for them. In the end I got my steaks back, and his shirt and hat. I also got a very sore body, but apparently I kicked him in a tender spot so I'm thinking he's feeling a whole lot worse than I am and that makes it all better as far as I'm concerned.

I saw an acquaintance, the ex-wife of a friend, at the store yesterday in a wedding gown. I took pictures for her at her last wedding. That was just 3 years ago. At first I was shocked but then I realized that it was really no big deal. Some people get married just to be married and love is just a 4 letter word. The first time Dickidoo asked for a divorce was during our 4th year. Who knows where we would be today if we had just given in then and called it quits right then and there. Would we be happier now? Would we ever realize what we had lost because we didn't want to work on our relationship? The girls wouldn't even exist. He would ask for a divorce 5 more times before this (you'd think I'd have gotten the hint by then) but we always seemed to work things out, for the kids. Well, the kids are grown and it's no longer about them. As much as I resent being replaced by an upgrade, I've finally gotten the message. I'm just glad it took me 25 years to get it.

Art has a garden on the side of the house. We have more zucchini than we know what to do with, and there are more on the way. Plus we have fresh green onions, green leaf lettuce fresh off the stalk and cilantro... with pumpkins and watermelons on the way. Sadly the strawberries, rosemary, basil and thyme never even sprouted. But the sunflowers, oh my goodness, the sunflowers! Who needs roses? These are gorgeous, and almost as big as my face! The birds in the neighborhood are very appreciative of Art's gardening skills and have been pecking at the blossoms ever since they bloomed. Every afternoon I can hear Art outside, shouting and shooting at the feathered fiends with his air soft gun like an armed scarecrow. The pellets just bounce off the birds feathers but they get the message and fly away... until Art leaves, then they're back again feasting on sunflower seeds.

Not sure what will be for supper tonight but I'm thinking it will probably have something to do with zucchini.

Oops, I did it again.

I'm in the dog house.

Not the shithound's house, but the metaphoric dog house although I think I would prefer the literal dog house which is actually a plastic travel kennel on the side of the house.

I accidentally tipped my glass of wine on Dickidoo's old laptop while shopping for a lense he had offered to buy me for my birthday. The machine sizzled to an abrupt stop... no error code, no blue screen of death... just the black screen of 'Oh My God, What Have I Done?' That wasn't the first time I'd splashed my drink on the laptop. Last month I spilt a little bit on the bottom corner... not in the keyboard, but Dickidoo had asked me not to put my drink near the computer again. I forgot.

How come when I do something wrong, disaster almost always ensues yet when anyone else does something wrong nothing really happens and nobody seems to notice? I guess I'm just lucky like that. It sucks!

I confessed to Dickidoo as soon as he got home and he sat there with his arms crossed, glaring at me the way he does when people screw up around him. It's really an intimidating sight. I felt like a child standing in front of the principal. For a second I wished I had taken Rocky's advice to blame it on the kitten.

'I'm sorry', never felt so ineffective.

Oh well, what can he do, divorce me? I'm thinking I won't be getting that lense for my birthday though.

Meteors, birthdays and hair removal

Spent the night simmering in the hot tub in the hopes of seeing some meteors from the Perseid's meteor shower. I saw 5 two nights ago, including twins that streaked through the night sky side by side in a perfectly paced race into the atmosphere. In an instant, like the others before them, they were gone, leaving me wide eyed in awe. Did I really just see that? I would have missed it if I had blinked. Last night I must have blinked at the wrong time because without my glasses on, I saw only the brightest of stars.

Not true... I did see 3 shooting stars. I'm pretty certain they were not part of the meteor shower since they were traveling in the opposite direction. Not one to waste wishes I closed my eyes tightly and wished the same wish I've been wishing on ever falling star I've seen for the past month.

My wishes have been coming true because I have made through yet another day and night.

We celebrated Rocky, Gabe and Art's birthdays last night. It was nice to have the entire family (along with significant others) together, laughing and enjoying each other's company. These moments are becoming more and more precious with each passing day and I hesitated to leave the restaurant because I knew that with the moment passing into our memories, we took one step towards the future and the inevitable.

I'm still trying to decide how to spend my 49th birthday. For some reason the excitement has kind of left me (duh!) and I am no longer in the mood for a celebration. I am not, however, going to let an opportunity to consume beer and truffles pass me by, so I imagine that what ever I decide to do, it shall include a 6 pack of Coronas, lime wedges and Godiva truffles.

Tip for the day: Be sure that the adhesive strip on your panty liner is fully adhered to your panty before pulling the garment up and on. The result, though not necessarily immediate, can be quite painful. And to think some women pay $$$ to have a similar hair removal procedure done. It felt like my eye balls were being ripped out of my head by the roots of my bikini hair! I cried, I kid you not... I sat there trying to carefully remove each hair one by one from the adhesive strip, blinded by a steady flow of tears.

Just 24 more cycles!

Where have all the children gone?

I hardly ever see the Oompas any more. The best time for possible sightings is 0'dark hundred, which is usually just a couple of hours after I get into bed... and they hover over me, asking questions in a language that my sleep muffled ears cannot decipher. They're gone by the time I get up. Or maybe I don't get up until I hear the front door slam for the 5th time... At any rate, I hardly ever see the Oompas any more.

The honorary Oompas, the four legged, long tailed ones, on the other hand, are constantly under feet.

The cat thinks it's a dog. The dog thinks it's a cat. They both think they own the house.

I think they are both pains in the behind.

The dog is starting to think the same about the cat, who has just discovered the dog's nipples and decided to start nursing again. Jubilee is just a baby herself and doesn't really appreciate that kind of attention so she just bites the cat's head. And the cat meows and the dog barks, and I growl... Grrrrrrrrrrr!

I should have stuck to having kids. At least they speak English!

So... the cat and the dog are in time out, again! And the Oompas are off to the four winds.

How did I ever get suckered into this?

Another 'wtf' moment

I woke up this morning on my own. No Oompas barging into my room to borrow my clothes, no dog whining to go outside, no cat whining because the dog won't play. It was quiet, as if nobody wanted to disturb me. Dickidoo was in the den watching TV but the volume was set low.

"This is why I shouldn't go to bed with wet hair," I apologized as I tried to force my Medusa doo down. My future-ex laughed but then grew serious.

"No coffee." he said without further ado. How like him not to beat around the bush.

Of course I didn't believe him and ran upstairs to see for myself. I looked high and low but to no avail. I even peered inside old coffee cans, maybe I could scrape up enough grounds to make a pot... Nope, I drained them the last time we ran out of coffee. Then I remembered all of the MRE condiment packs that were accumulating in the cupboard. MRE's always come with a napkin, moist towelette, salt, pepper, Tabasco sauce, gum or candy, powdered drink, sugar, creamer and instant coffee!

And more recently... tea?

I kid you not, tea!

We feed our soldiers these meals. They eat these before going into battle. They need something to give them strength and energy... something to put hair on their balls.

They need coffee, not tea! I need coffee, not tea!

"The English won the war with tea," Dickidoo reasoned.

"No they didn't, they lost the war... and the Colonists threw the tea into the ocean because they wanted COFFEE!"

Dickidoo is almost as addicted to coffee as I am, so I wasn't too surprised when he offered to go to the store to buy some. Unfortunately my over-worked Bunn-Omatic coffee maker is starting to show it's age and it keeps popping the circuit on my power stick so when the pot was ready, the coffee was only luke warm. It would take another 30 minutes before we had a pot of hot coffee. But we did get our coffee and once again there was peace in the universe.

In these changing times you take happiness when and where you can get it, even if it's just a fresh, hot cup of coffee...

Or a can of Febreese... the damn shithound has gas again! Grrrrr.... Gag!!!!!!

Pets, pests... same difference.

The dog is in the dog-house because she ate the can of gold fishes food (including the can). The cat is in the dog-house because he knocked the zucchini bread batter off the table and all over the carpet. They're not precious little pets, they're just hairy, 4 legged Oompas with tails.

Rocky woke me up this morning at 8am. She knew it was my day off and that I wanted to sleep in but she had good news that just couldn't wait until she got home from Band Camp later on this afternoon.

"Mom, you'll be glad to know your jeans fit me good!" she said holding up my favorite faded black jeans, which had been neatly folded in my laundry pile yesterday but now showed obvious signs of wear.

"No they don't, they're baggy on me, they'll fall off of you!"

"I just need a belt."

Just because she can fit into my jeans doesn't mean that they fit her, but she and Becca have been my biggest supporters during my battle to lose inches and especially lately she has taken every opportunity to make me feel good about my accomplishment.

The only drawback... now that the girls can fit into my clothes they are always borrowing them and I still never have anything clean to wear.

This pay day I get to go on another shopping spree... for smaller undies. I'm finally out of the Granny-panties. Even my bra size has gone down. All I need is the right push 'em up bra and I'll be looking good.

Ha! Looking good for what, for who?

Actually, now that I think of it, I'll be looking good for me.

Maybe some black or white lace....

Song of the day: Stronger Woman by Jewel

It's all good...

Dickidoo and I went to breakfast yesterday... Southside Deli, one of our favorite spots. We discovered it during a trip to court to fight a traffic ticket (it wasn't my fault, honestly Officer!), and now we go there every time the mood for homemade pastrami hash hits us.

It hit us yesterday and we ditched the Oompas for a little 'us' time.

It wasn't a date. We're past that. It wasn't 'making up', we've made up but there's no going back. It wasn't even a truce since we're not at battle. No, it was just two old friends sharing good food, good conversation and good company.

Looking back now I can't believe how close to the edge we came. This bombshell that Dickidoo dropped in my lap... Lord, was it really only 3 weeks ago?... was our wake-up call. Sink or swim, batteries not included. I'm not a strong swimmer, but I can float like a boat and kind of paddle myself in the general direction I want to go. It may take a while but I'll get there eventually. In the mean time I'm enjoying the cruise.

One day, some day, I may see this for the blessing that it is. For now I'll just say that it's better this way. Am I happy? No, but I am happier, which I had come to believe in recent years would never be possible again so yeah, this is definitely better. I love him, but do I love him enough to fight for him, for us? Yes, but I won't because love cannot be won. It must be given. I love him enough to let him go. That is my good deed for the day. Where's my stinkin' lollipop?

So, what is the point of this rambling post? I want to convince my family and friends... and maybe myself, that this is a good thing. I want to convince Dickidoo that I'm okay, that I will get through this, and that he doesn't have to worry about becoming the next episode of 'Snapped'. (I wasn't kidding about the genie and the bullfrogs though, that wish stands!)

Most of all I want folks to let it go. There is no good guy or bad guy, just 4 aching hearts in search of love. If at least one person can walk away from this happy... truly happy, then it will have been worth it (at least for that one person.) For now I'm content with walking away with my head held high. Happy will come later. But it will come.

And Rocky, my dear, no... this does not mean that the divorce is cancelled. I'm sorry but perhaps you will understand in time.

For everyone who came to support me, thank you. I appreciate it. For those who are giving me the gift of time by not calling, I apologize and thank you for understanding. For those who are worried, don't be. You have all been a huge helping hand that got me back up on my feet again, and I'm seeing clearly now that this isn't such a bad place to be after all.

It's all good!

Breaking the news (after all this time)

I finally got the balls to call Mama today and fill her in. It was made even harder because one of my cousins in Hawaii had severe hemorrhaging in his brain and is being kept on life support just long enough to find recipients for his organs before he will be put to rest.

We talked about my cousin. I remember him being so cool. He was infinitely patient with me, his clumsy cousin who idolized him because of his skills on the guitar and surfboard. I remember when I bought my first guitar, he came over to help me learn to play it... and he fell in love with my round back so he went out and bought an Ovation, which is the Cadillac of acoustic round back guitars.

He taught me to play the opening chords of 'Here comes the Sun', one of my favorite guitar tunes.

I miss him already.

There's nothing like real tragedy to make your own discomforts seem petty.

I hoped Mama had read my blog and was already aware of the situation but Mama doesn't really get on the computer much. She was not going to make this easy for me. Suddenly I felt like a sophmore in High School trying to figure out how to tell my parents that I had gotten a D in Algebra. I had never gotten a D on my report card before and I was devastated... not so much personally but by the thought of my parent's disappointment in me.

Mama was surprised but I didn't hear even a hint of disappointment in her voice when I told her of the pending divorce. She seemed genuinely saddened. But not disappointed.

And then there she was again, optimistic as always. How does she do that? How does she always see the bright side of the darkest room, and yet she always does and is already making plans for next year, and the year after.

I used to think I wanted to be most like my Grandmother, Baban. Now I realize that if I can be even just a little like my Mama I'm doing pretty damn good.

I wonder if Mama has Sam Elliot's phone number because I am now available to take his phone calls.

If I can't have you...

1-800-BOOBIDOO: I have a kitten.
1-800-BOOBIDOO: I can't have you. You won't let me have another baby so I got a kitten.

1-800-DICKIDOO: Bad idea. Just telling you and you know it.

1-800-BOOBIDOO: I know.
1-800-DICKIDOO: Say no.
1-800-BOOBIDOO: Too late.
1-800-DICKIDOO: Send it back.
1-800-BOOBIDOO: Look, it's either a baby, a boyfriend or a kitten and the first two are not going to happen!

So add a tiny part Siamese kitten named Smokey to the chaotic population at Loompaland. Did I also mention the two garter snakes and a new goldfish named Aku?

And guess who held the kitten last night and let it fall asleep on his chest while watching TV last night... none other than Mr. "Send It Back" himself!

Argh!

I'm sitting on the couch right now dying one heart beat at a time, slowing bleeding to death. The phone is near by with 911 on speed dial. The broken left clicker on Dickidoo's laptop is the least of my worries. I must blog my final words.

Okay, maybe I'm being a little dramatic, but I am going through some major junk right now. I woke up never really quite fully waking up. Aunt Flo arrived last night and has been sucking the blood from my veins at an alarming rate. My heart is pounding to keep up with her demands. My head has been spinning for hours, and it might actually be enjoyable if I could keep the room from spinning with it. My arms and legs are as limp as spaghetti... cooked spaghetti. I feel like left overs from a Vampire buffet.

Actually what I'm suffering from is just pre-menopause coupled with an extra heavy menstrual cycle due to high stress levels. It sucks!

51 is the average age for menopause. That's just over 2 more years, or more importantly 25 more periods.... if I survive this one.

I need chocolate and Corona, lots of chocolate and Corona.

100

After staring at the hole in my pinstriped pants for half an hour contemplating a mending job that probably would only have taken two minutes tops, I decided upon my black brocade pants, lace tank, a denim jacket and swede ankle boots. I even brushed my hair. I wanted to look good for my 100th bust.

I was tempted to hand 'her' a balloon in celebration, complete with confetti and cake like the Dutch store did for their 10,000th. Fortunately for her I am obligated to be respectful, dang-it! At any rate I guess you could say I totally ruined her shopping experience and I'll settle for that.

The bad thing about adrenaline is that it makes me stink. Adrenaline itself doesn't stink, but it makes me perspire and that stinks! I couldn't take my jacket off because my bra strap and walkie wires would show so I had to sweat it out... and live with the stench.

Hey, maybe I burned off a couple of pounds! How cool would that be!?

100th on my 1st Anniversary. Yeah! (By the way, that's not great at all by any standard but it was a personal goal and I'm proud of it.)

The New Normal

So life is slowly starting to settle into a new 'normal'. Nephew Joseph has returned to his family in the south. I still look for him riding around the cul de sac when I drive down the street. Gabe finally has a room to sleep in. I'm bunking in Rocky's room for obvious reasons.


Just for the record Dickidoo is not leaving me because of another woman. He's leaving me because our marriage has failed. He is in love with another woman because he no longer loves me. If he still loved me this would not be an issue. I'm not taking this as well as it may appear. Believe me, I had my 2 day long pity party and still have relapses on a daily basis. In my mind I say things that are neither graceful nor amusing. If I had a genie there would be two new bull frogs in the pond. My mother drummed it in to my head 'if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all!' The funny thing is now that we have accepted the inevitable we have a better relationship than we have in quite some time. Perhaps we were just meant to be a young couple and then later on just friends. At any rate, without speaking for him, I personally have been happier since this all came out in the open than I have been in 5 years and that alone says more than words could.

At work I am preparing to celebrate my 1st Anniversary at my new position (today, yay!)... and also hope to make my 100th 'stop' (I'm at 99). In anticipation of the event I went sniffing through the laundry pile to find something decent to wear on this special occasion. I found the pinstriped slacks that I wore the other day and shook them out. Then to my horror I spotted a big gaping hole in the back of the pants, not in the front where the zipper should be. Did I really wear these pants to work with a split in the seam? I had calico polka dot panties on that day... Oh Lord, I hope I never know.

As for future plans, well I guess it's back to the drawing board. My 50 Year bucket list has taken a new direction. Gone are the mandolin lessons, the flight in the hot air balloon and the fishing trip in Alaska. Realistically speaking I think just being out and on my own two feet will be a good start for now. Starting over at the age of 50 is a bit scary but I'll still have my best friend (who is VERY lucky that I don't have a genie otherwise he would be croaking quite happily next to his sexy little amphibian sweetheart out by the pond down the way).

Song of the Day: I Was Already Gone, by Sugarland.

Acceptance.

Life has a new surreal quality to it now. Everything looks the same but it couldn't be more different. Steve and I agreed to be friends and we are but I'm sensing a strain that didn't exist before.

Duh!

For the record though, our failed relationship is not based on a whim. We have not been consistently happy for several years. It was just a matter of time. We'd have good spells, then something would happen that would knock us off kilter for a while. Usually we would right ourselves, apologize, kiss and make up. This time it's different. This time there is no kissing and making up. It's time to count our losses and let go before we destroy each other.

It is possible that things may not work out the way Steve hopes. He is well aware of this. I can't blame him for wanting to try. 'Anything worth having is worth fighting for.' We've been fighting to make 'us' work for a long time. It's time to accept that our time is passed. It's time for Steve to fight for something else. If it doesn't work out as hoped, the fact will remain~ our time has passed and it's time to move on.

I'm ready to move on. Not financially... my credit sucks! Emotionally though I find myself getting more confident with each passing day. I can talk without getting choked up and teary eyed. I no longer feel like a failure... broken and disposable. It's not the end of my life, but the beginning of a new exciting phase.

Now if I can just get people to understand that I'm getting a divorce, not dying from some incurable disease. I'm not in the market for a new love. I don't do blind dates, nor am I interested in a referral for eHarmony. Really, I'm fine!

But I swear if I hear another sappy love song I will puke!

Today revisited~

I just read my last post. Day off, NCIS marathon, 'life is good'.

Bullshit!

I never should have gotten up off of the couch when Dickidoo came home a couple of hours after I made that post and suggested a ride. Of course it would only have prolonged the inevitable but at least I could have enjoyed the rest of my marathon while I still cared.

'I'm not happy', he said.

'Ditto,' I replied.

'I still care for you but I don't love you anymore.'

(Phew! Is that all? Well, at least there isn't another woman!)

'There's someone else and I can't stop thinking about her.'

'Her' is a woman from his past, his childhood sweetheart. Long story short, they have rekindled their love for each other. Unfortunately they are both still married.

I thought I was ready for anything. I was ready for everything except that he was still in love with her. I could have dealt with anyone else but her. There I was thinking I was too fat and unappealing for him, or maybe he had ED, thus his distraction and my involuntary re-virginhood but it turned out not to be about me at all.

No, it was something more powerful than that. It only took him more than 25 years but he finally figured it out, he's still in love with her. Secretly I hope it's just the romantic memory and that once they are back together and she realized that he farts in his sleep, is a sub-conscious public nose picker and doesn't flush the toilet that she'll want nothing to do with him. Then I realize that because I loved him I had accepted those less than romantic qualities about him. If their love is as enduring as it appears to be it won't matter.

Still, I hope she's a farter too, and they can sit on the porch in their rocking chairs and watch the sun set rocking and farting like two happy hillbillies.

(That was supposed to be our future, dammit.)

So how do I feel about this? 'Feel' may be the wrong word. I haven't 'felt' much since I was so wickedly lured away from my NCIS marathon. It's like somebody has pulled the plug on my future leaving just a blank or staticky screen. I struggle to restore power and bring things back in to focus but just as I gain control and think 'Yeah, I can do this,' the power flickers and I'm in the dark again. Crying helps. So did drinking until Steve got rid of my 5 liter box of wine after I got sloshed and suggested that he do so to keep me from developing a bad habit.

25 years of 'in one ear and out the other' and he picks now to start listening to me! I could have used some wine last night. And where's my tequila? I didn't say anything about getting rid of the damn tequila! Grrrr!

I wish Steve was being a butt about all this, it might be easy to handle if I were on the defense, but he has been very honest and sensitive. I wish she were a hussy, but I've met her family and know she's comes from good people. I wish I could hate Steve and her for kicking me out of the fairytale but I can't because I honestly want Steve to be happy again. Not gloriously happy but he is a good man and should be happy. For that matter I happen to believe that I am a good woman and therefore deserve to be happy as well, but in this case we can't both be happy so it may as well be him since he's already got a plan.

The kids know and weren't particularly surprised. They are pre-conditioned by the accepted norm in society, plus they are all very mature so they understand that sometimes things just don't work out and families become separated. They are all making plans for me moving in with them when they move out. They have obviously forgotten my vow to let them change my Depends when incontinence sets in. For now they are just concerned with making me feel loved.

Its weird. This time last week I thought I was set for life. Now I'm plagued with thoughts of where I shall live once we sell this big old house. I'm almost 50. I'll never make enough to buy a house which means my less than generous paycheck is going to have to squeeze out rent for the rest of my life. I'm going to turn in to the bitchy old lady in the downstairs apartment who is always banging on the ceiling with a broomstick for quiet.

The first time Steve proposed to me he said and I quote: 'I want to watch our hair grow silver together.' That was sooooooo romantic... and as predicted we have both aged gracefully. He has more silver than I do, but mine is longer. Poor guy must have crapped his pants recently when he realized that I had dyed my hair to cover all the white and he'd have to wait longer to fulfil the prophecy so he could call it quits and get on with his life.

Every day Steve asks me if I'm okay to which I lie and say 'yes' but I'm not fine. My 25 year old romance has been replaced by an older, deeper love and I am nowhere in the picture. It's not even a 'happily ever after' story yet since it is not possible for Steve and 'her' to be together for the time being and they must wait.

I wish someone would love me like that, with a love so powerful that it endured a quarter of a century separation and countless obstacles but it still prevailed. I can understand and respect that kind of true love. It just would have been nice if it could have been for me.

So now that I am soon-to-be-single, what now? Zack's already thrown in the name of a replacement.

Are you fricken nuts because I sure am not!

No. For every heart there is one true love. Ideally the match is mutual but occasionally, as in this case, there is a mismatch and while my heart chose Steve, his heart was meant for another. No regrets though. I've got 5 wonderful kids and many great memories out of it. And now that we aren't so busy feeling unhappy with our marriage and have accepted that we cannot force it I think I have found a new friend in Steve. It's good to hear him laugh again.

But please... please, please please let her have morning breath and night-gas!