November 2009 Archives

Christmas is in six weeks. Let the screams of crafters begin now...

It has been a seriously strange week.  Not bad, just strange.  Strange like Twilight Zone, not strange like  Tom Cruise.  (If it ever gets strange like Tom Cruise, I beg of my friends to please lock me away for the good of humanity.  Or, at least, use me as weapon.) And, away we go!

• So, we're moving the spa into a much better building with a much better landlord and into a town that literally is so excited we're coming that we have people we haven't seen in months showing up asking, "Are you guys really moving back?"  Yeah, it's awesome.
• Okay, so it's Spa Owner that's built that rep, but they all look at me with respect because she has the opinion that I'm a good therapist.  You know, that's such a great feeling, and damn, I could never ever pay that woman back even if I gave her diamonds forever.
• The only catch to the move?  The one therapist with the hoarding problem who has been living at the spa - and denying she's living there despite our telling her we know - to avoid the very hoarding problem that will not go away just because she's unethically living at the spa.  Yeah, it's seriously that screwed up.  She's a fabulous person, but damn if she doesn't need some serious help.
• We're still moving despite her psychosis.
• So, two days ago, I was thinking about an old client and wondering why we never got back in touch.  Spookily he called me yesterday.  No complaints, though.  He is a regular outcall as long as he doesn't flake out.
• As mentioned in a previous post, two friends are going through what is turning into a nasty divorce.  I saw the wife yesterday as a client.  My heart breaks for her, and that's all I can say.
• Her husband who was sad to someone about the idea was sad to only that someone it turns out.  To everyone else, he's quite jovial about the situation.  I'm really still wondering about his mental capacity.
• Last week was dead at work in a worrisome way.  This week I am happily busy, but now I'm worn out and just want to sit in a corner and drool.  I can't wait until it's steady enough that I'm used to it.
• Found out that the chiropractic clinic I worked at until August that was worrying me about its practices apparently is getting a reputation for disreputable practices.  I feel a little vindicated, yes.
• I love my husband.  But, ya'll knew that.  It still bears repeating.
• This weekend is a gaming con in Little Rock.  My stalker is coming to help me deem if it is worthy.  If not, we're going to see "Paranormal Activity" and hopefully be scared shitless and then go home and watch more horror movies and drink a lot and just have some serious fun.  It's been a long week, yo.
• My mom called me to talk Girl Talk.  She met a guy.  It was like talking to a squealing 17-year-old.  It was precious!
• Fight for You is my current favorite song.  It's how some of our hearts speak.
• NaNoWriMo is falling far behind the procrastination powers of Old School Gaming.  Want a challenge? Start NaNoWriMo with much bravery, but then try to look it in the eye again later when you've been procrastinating for a week.  T'aint easy, my friends. T'aint easy.

That is totally my story! ________________________________ I am so happy for the weekend.  When it doesn't involve naps, it might involve cleaning, but it will definitely happiness and much drooling if it doesn't involve that as an end-of-the-week routine already.

Ever watch a friend's marriage fall apart and find yourself holding on so tightly to your significant other because you're desperately afraid some weird freak of the universe will cause you the same heartache only to have your significant other remark that...um...sweetie...really, it's okay...really...can't breathe here... No, I haven't done that, but I've been wanting to be that person. I love my husband desperately. Yes, I am aware that sounds hugely obsessive and a little unhealthy.  It's hard to describe how I feel about him otherwise.  We're not talk just love.  I love him, but on top of that we have crossed hurtles of fire and pits of despair and have found ourselves standing together with a different outlook on our lives.  All of that makes my heart beat for him a little more intensely than for anyone else. Think of it like this, I remember an old John Wayne movie called "McLintock"  (I'm sure most of you have seen it.)  In it, he's out hunting and his daughter rides up to talk to him.  Late in the conversation, he explains a little bit of life to her in her inheritance:

You're going to have every young buck west of the Missouri around here tryin' to marry you - mostly because you're a handsome filly, but partly because I own everything in this country from here to there. They'll think you're going to inherit it. Well, you're not. I'm going to leave most of it to, well, to the nation really, for a park where no lumbermen'll cut down all the trees for houses with leaky roofs. Nobody'll kill all the beaver for hats for dudes nor murder the buffalo for robes. What I'm going to give you is a 500 cow spread on the Upper Green River. Now that may not seem like much, but it's more than we had, your mother and I. Some folks are gonna say I'm doin' all this so I can sit up in the hereafter and look down on a park named after me, or that I was disappointed in you - didn't want you to get all that money. But the real reason, Becky, is because I love you, and I want you and some young man to have what I had, because all the gold in the United States Treasury and all the harp music in heaven can't equal what happens between a man and a woman with all that growin' together. I can't explain it any better than that.

It was funny because, well, about two years into my relationship with Todd, I ran into that movie.  I love that movie because it's a lot of fun, but, that line, that line stuck with me.  It really put a lot of things in perspective. No, things weren't terrible bad, but we've had a fair share of growin', and by the gods, I wouldn't change it for the world. Having a relationship is hard, folks.  Having a marriage is harder.  Still, growing together isn't just the bad stuff we manage to wade through.  Every laugh, every wrestling match, every time time he makes me groan with a horrifically bad pun, these things have an equal amount of growth in them.  I figure it like this, the less than stellar moments, well, we learn how we deal in those moments together and apart.  We learn that those moments can be a strain on ourselves, but the relationship will survive in the end if we talk and work hard.  The oh-so-many happy fun moments that continue to outweigh the few stresses really just teach us that we're a healthy couple, I think.  I mean, no couple is perfect.  Most couples fight.  Even the ones who don't really fight have stressed-out moments.  It's how your relationship reacts to those moments - and the fact they tend to drown in the fun that happens on most days - that really matters. So, you're thinking, "Dude, you're sitting there telling me you have a really good, strong relationship with your husband despite the strange quirks you bring to the marriage, but you haven't given me a point to this blog post." The point is even with all that, when you have two friends going through what is turning into a very nasty divorce, friends whose marriage you swore was solid, it makes you either seriously examine what you have or seriously thankful for what you have. Me?  I am unbelievably thankful. So, really, I'm not so much afraid of it falling apart as afraid of taking it all for granted.  Todd and I have been through so much together with a few tears and an avalanche of laughter along the way.  Those who might think I'm saying we're perfect are missing the point.  We are as far from perfect as you can get.  And, no, I don't want us to be perfect.  It's the imperfections that make this work. I love laughing at the things that would horrify new couples, like farting during sex. Babies, if you can't laugh at that, then ya'll have to loosen up. Think about it, sex is hysterical.  Oh, it feels great and is such a bonding moment, but the faces we make alone should seriously kill the mood.  They don't because we don't pay attention.  We're more involved with the amazing moment we're having rather than masks and pretensions. Despite that, I think sex should end in laughter. No, not laughter at the attempt.  Mostly laughter because you feel good.  Standing up to go to the bathroom and finding your legs are made of jello stumps is definitely a moment made for laughter.  Getting a charlie horse in your hip during the moment isn't good at the time, but it's damn funny later.  So is something like finding out during the first time you and your now husband are having sex, your cat sat on the nightstand and watched the action like a damned bobblehead.  (He wasn't going to mention it at the time because that would've been a mood killer, but afterwards, that was some funny shit, yo.) Man, I would be insane to take for granted a man who not only cares when I don't shave my legs but who spends 30 minutes after sex trying to poke my belly button. Yes, that makes no sense.  He did it because he likes to hear me squeal and laugh.  I'm sorry, there's something precious in a husband doing things to you because it makes you make funny noises.  There is a serious appreciation in that.  A lot of you may not think that, but I don't care.  He likes the way I retreat into gasping laughter and snorts when he tickles me.  I have to love that. I love my boy. And, going to bed soon, after spending some time talking to my friend going through the hurt of the divorce, I will hold on tight to him.  Not because I think I will lose him, but because I need to remind myself that dammit, every moment with him is precious and although we don't know what the future may bring, I always hope that I will look back and think about the love and the laughter and hysterical snorts and nothing else. ______________________________ Buttercup suddenly realized that "As you wish" meant I love you. My boy laughs at me when I cackled madly while playing "Dead Rising".  When asked why he wasn't worried when most guys would be concerned at their women cackling when running zombies down with a lawn mower, he said, "Hey, I figure it's like training.  Come the zombie apocalypse, I'm good!"  Brings happy tears to the eyes, girls.

Wine? Check. Playlist? Check. Completion of completely awesome party with completely awesome friends so there is no creative distraction? Check, with evidence: [caption id="attachment_502" align="alignnone" width="300" caption=""Re: Your Brains" is still ringing around the neighborhood."][/caption] [caption id="attachment_503" align="alignnone" width="200" caption="Many zombies came, ate, and shambled away."][/caption] * (Yeah, there was some serious fun.  Although, I think Absinthe is officially banned from the house.) About twenty plots in my head and no outline to speak of although I tried desperately and will probably find myself wandering blindly from plot to plot until I settle upon one? Check. Cat lying against my low back between the computer chair and me just to make sure I'm uncomfortable alert enough to stay awake and get writing done? Check. A guarantee that there is a definite streak of masochism that is required to participate in something so insane? Check. Lack of sleep? Working on it. Oh yeah...*cracks knuckles*...I'm ready... ... ... GO! ___________________________ *If you want to see more of the Halloween party pics, go here. We had trick-or-treaters! Okay, I'm good now.