Then

CG and my two year anniversary is this Sunday, well technically it's February 29th, but since that day won't come around for another two years we just get as close to it as we can.

It's pretty impressive I think. Two years is a long-ass time, like, really long. Supposedly the "spark" (or whatever kids are calling it these days *takes off old lady cap*) starts to fade after the first year.

It still feels like our second date to me, except I'm not nearly so uncomfortable about the cleanliness of my house or worried about the last time I combed my hair.

Anyway, two years is a huge deal for me. I've never been any good at maintaining any type of relationship, whether it be boyfriend, friend, job contacts, etc. It just seems to take more effort than I'm willing to devote to it.

To put it another way, I have officially devoted two years of my life to the upkeep and health of a relationship without regret AND without screwing it up beyond repair.

So yay me! And thank you CG for your unending amounts of quiet understanding, doofy humor, strength, sweetness, and for just sitting quietly with me when I'm sure you'd rather be actually doing something.

I try not to end my posts on too sweet or depressing a note so in closing I guess I'll provide one of my most favorite de-motivators.

Things I've Forgotten

My brain is a funny thing, a scary, funny thing. Sometimes thoughts fly through it so fast that even I have no idea what I'm thinking. I catch the tail end of a thought only to wonder moments later when my brain has slowed, "why would a fuzzy elephant dance the cha cha slide in 7 inch heels made to look like Frank Sinatra's spats from Guys and Dolls?"

I don't know.

I'm not sure where this entry is going.

I'm rarely sure of anything. So lets just get started.

I forget things a lot, to the point where I almost feel the need to talk a doctor about it. Everyone has those days where they get home from work and don't remember 90% of their drive home. But whole chunks of memory tend to fall right out of my head.

I can't remember what I ate for dinner last night, the events of my day tend to get jumbled in my head and I can't remember the correct order for most of the things I've done or said. If someone asks how my day was I'll smile, say just fine and go on. Please don't ask for specifics though, I don't remember them.

I'm terrible with names, I'm terrible with faces, I'm terrible with voices. In fact, the more I like someone, the harder it is for me to picture their face. It took a good two months of actively concentrating on CG's face for me to commit it to any kind of memory and even now, the only reason I know that his eyes are brown is because I've forced myself to pay attention to them a couple of weeks ago.

I just don't see things. I may stare at something for hours and have no idea what I'm looking at.

There are a few things lately that have brought this into harsh reality. I was going through my jewelry tub (yes, a jewelry tub and yes pretty much everything is tangled and tarnished) and found my Han Solo illegally modified blaster pistol necklace and a tiny silver owl pendant necklace. How could I have forgotten about either of these finds!? I mean, the first is a fucking Star Wars necklace and the second, how could I forget that tiny adorable owl? I absolutely love owls. They're my favorite animals, in fact, I used to collect the cotton filled toys at any and all wildlife parks I went to.

I had forgotten my favorite animal. How is that possible, especially with all the Harry Potter hype, Hedwig - hello.

The next was even more frustrating and upsetting, although not as unusual as forgetting about your favorite animal. I lost a ring, lots of people lose jewelry, especially rings, it's easy to do. I, however, almost never lose jewelry, it's one of the few things I can manage to keep hold of in my life. My tendancy is to lose the pieces that are the most important to me. My great-grandmother's ring and pendant set with the birthstones of her 5 children disappeard from my car 6 years ago. The ring this weekend was from CG, totally beautiful and wonderfully large and sparkly, I wear it everywhere and don't give a tiny dead baby rat's ass if it doesn't match what I'm wearing. Sometime during the day it completely disappeared. I don't remember taking it off, I don't remember snagging it on anything, I don't remember seeing it or not seeing it for most of the day. Just gone. Very frustrating.

The last was Sunday night as I was trying to sleep. I finally calm my thoughts around 10 at night only to pop back up wide awake at 10:05 anxiously worrying about the little girl that my parents were babysitting over the weekend. I went back over the day and couldn't remember seeing her after church let out that morning. She was no where in my head. I knew that she had to have been with my parents and that she was perfectly fine. But I could not calm down or stop worrying about her until I could remember. I finally broke down and called my mother at 10:30 at night to ask her where the little girl had been after we got home from church. She was asleep on the couch the entire time. As soon as she said it I remembered and was able to sleep.

It's scary and weird. I'm also very sure that it's a sign that I'm going to lose my mind in my early thirties. Something to look forward to I suppose.

Love and Marriage

So, this book came out on the 4th of this month:


Yeah, I haven't read it and in all honesty I have absolutely no plans to, no matter how good Oprah's magazine says it is. I've read Ms. Gottlieb's article about this self-same subject, also desperately entitled: Marry Him.

Go ahead, read the article, I'll wait.





So, you've read it right? Now, I'm not married, have no finite plans for marriage, I have no children, no plans for children, and I'm most certainly not in my 40's, or even 30's. My frame of reference will obviously be skewed.

However, what I am is a woman with no legal commitments besides student loans and my mortgage, living alone, working in corporate America, and doing a pretty fucking awesome job at living my life the way I want.

Surprisingly, I agree with Ms. Gottlieb's underlying point in this article. However, I disagree with almost everything that she's trying to convince us 20-somethings to do. I don't disagree with the point that she inadvertently makes.

That point being that there's no such thing as Mr. Perfect, don't hold on to childhood fantasies of marriage, men, and babies. They aren't real. That my friend, is sound fucking advice. I couldn't agree more, women who go into relationships full of hopes and dreams and idealizations tend to leave those relationships bitter and disillusioned. Living in a dream world and having unattainable goals tends to do that to people.


However, the tone and meaning of the article is complete bullshit. At one point she advocates marrying your gay friend because you'll at least have someone with you, and besides, "how many long- married couples are having much sex anyway?" Apparently physical attraction is not required at all, in fact it's perfectly okay to be physically repulsed by your husband: "if you get a cold shiver down your spine at the thought of embracing a certain guy, but you enjoy his company more than anyone else’s, is that settling or making an adult compromise?"

In fact, it doesn't matter if you can't stand the sight of him:

"The couples my friend and I saw at the park that summer were enviable but not because they seemed so in love—they were enviable because the husbands played with the kids for 20 minutes so their wives could eat lunch.In practice, my married friends with kids don’t spend that much time with their husbands anyway (between work and child care), and in many cases, their biggest complaint seems to be that they never see each other. So if you rarely see your husband—but he’s a decent guy who takes out the trash and sets up the baby gear, and he provides a second income that allows you to spend time with your child instead of working 60 hours a week to support a family on your own—how much does it matter whether the guy you marry is The One?"

So, as long as he'll make a good baby daddy marry him. Marry him now, before you get old, wrinkly, and you're eggs start shriveling!! Yay for feminism?!? I mean, logically I know that women have a set amount of time, eggs, and grace under pressure when it comes to children. But being so desperate for a family that you marry someone you not only don't love, but who actually makes you shudder at the mere thought of him touching you? That seems excessive and seriously fucked up.

So, I guess my admittedly inexperienced opinion is: be realistic but don't settle. I mean, am I the unrealistic one here? I had, in the past, been quite proud of myself for realizing that sparks fizzle, heat cools, and steady and dependable are two of the best qualities that a man can posses. I still dumped men who I didn't find attractive, never kissed anyone who physically repulsed me, and have no regrets in ending any of my previous relationships. Maybe I have regrets about the way I ended things, but I never thought twice about the reasons.

They all seemed and continue to seem valid and purposeful at the time. There are three men who I've dated and also dumped who fell into the awesome guy, but not for me category. They were all funny, smart, endearing, dependable, tall, and good tempered. All of them would (and in one case does) make wonderful fathers and husbands. But the amount of chemistry that was generated in these relationships would take the last place ribbon in a grade school science fair contest.

No matter how little you see your husband, or how great he is with children, there's got to be something there. Something that holds you together while the kids are away at camp, when you're on vacation, when the kids move out, when you retire. I'm not saying that loveless marriages don't work, I know that they can, but that'll never be what I want.

Now, back to the book. From the few reviews I have read it looks like Gottlieb has toned down the "marry your gay best friend thing" and the "it's awesome to marry, have sex with, and then have babies with someone who physically repulses you." So who knows, this book may be worth reading because I do agree with her points about fairy-tale romance and the perfect man.

Her article is still total bullshit though.

Having Goals . . . maybe

So, my whole Katie the Dog fiasco is turning a bit hopeful. I took the monster home last weekend to my hometown vet and we decided to give her a month to heal by herself. The Vet doesn't believe it's as serious as the ER vet did. So we've got her on some anti-inflammatory and stuck in her cage for about 22 hours a day. I feel terrible, but a little discomfort for a month is totally worth it if she doesn't have to have invasive surgery.

Dog drama down to a minimum *thumbs up*

I also got my hair cut this weekend - that's one goal for 2010 down. LMAO

I'm still working on the travel thing. Since we aren't sure yet if Katie is going to need surgery in a month or not I'm in a holding pattern right now. If she needs the surgery I won't be going anywhere for a while, if not then I'll get to fulfill one of my goals for the year. I just have to get my ass in gear and get my friggin' passport. *goes to google search local locations*

In other news, I had a wonderful Valentines weekend, which included a nicely violent hockey game with box seats and a delicious Budweiser beer, and a taco bake casserole with cheapish pink champagne. I'm the fucking classiest broad EVAR. I also got my ass kicked by Current Guy at basically every Wii Sports game. Tragic.

V-Day

Happy Valentines Day to those of you who enjoy it. I have a feeling that I've discussed this before, but it was probably before I made the blog a little more PC and a little less personal. I've deleted an excessively large number of posts to make this a bit more relative and friend friendly.

I've always enjoyed Valentines Day. My parents got married on February 14th, not very original, I know, but it does make for an immediate love for the holiday. I have another reason for my devotion to the holiday. Dad would always get us girls a separate card and stuffed animal just from him. The card was always the best part. Dad's really good at the card thing, he always found the perfect card for us and it almost always made me cry. As we grew up and moved out the cards just from Dad stopped, which is fine and understandable, but the memory of Dad coming in early on February 14th, sometimes waking us up at 4 or 5 in the morning just before he headed in to work to give me my gift is something that I will always remember and always treasure.

/goopy love junk

For those of you who think Valentines Day is a Hallmark Holiday of the first water, have a wonderful weekend and think of all that delicious discount candy you can get on the 15th. Someone has to eat the chocolate out of those unloved heart shaped boxes, you don't want them to feel left out do you? Do you?

People I Love

So, I'm taking this opportunity to do a shout out for no other reason than I want to and I can.

First: My funny and talented friend Shannon is the author of a Sweet Valley blog and has recently been approached by not only the publisher for Francine's latest book for a possible review, but has also been mentioned AND linked in Entertainment Weekly for her blog. I just want to take this opportunity to congratulate her again and point people who may not have seen her blog yet, her way. She also has a blog on the Gilmore Girls if that runs more to your taste.

She hasn't updated lately on the SVH blog, as she's finished the high school series and is taking a MUCH needed break before starting back up on the Senior High series, but she will be back soon.

I have to say, even if you aren't into either series her blog is still funny as hell to read, so just do it. Be one of the few who will be able to look back and say, "you know, I knew her before she was on the cover of Publishers Weekly."

Second: NTKOG - I'm shamelessly trying to get myself a fabulous iPod fo' free and am ridiculously impressed with her ability to dance horribly. I myself am a terrible dancer and take much joy in embarrassing myself at family gatherings by wiggling my ass or doing the white man's overbite. I had hoped to find a picture of myself doing those things but have been unable too. It's a shame really, as I know they're out there. So here's my plug, now go out and sign yourself up to win that iPod and stick around to read at least a few of her posts: the girl has serious guts.

I will say that if anyone who wins the iPod was directed to do so from my site I expect some sort of repayment.

Third: Children of the 90's - is also having a bit of a giveaway and since I'm feeling pretty fucking generous today I'll turn you on to that one as well. Feel blessed. Again, if you win through a link of mine I expect some repayment, in the form of Lisa Frank stickers this time. You can totally keep the magic eye book, I never see anything in those damn things.

Fourth: The One with All the Snark - just found this blog and I think it's fabby. At one point I had thought about starting a Friends blog up myself, but I tend to turn things personal without meaning to, so I'd be no good with a structured blog about anything but me. I'm vain and self-centered that way.

Fifth: You guys know I love a good list, I make them a lot, obviously. So in honor of that: List Addicts, who doesn't like structure and organization of thoughts, ideas, goals, and plans? No one that's who. This blog is awesome.


Alright, I think I'm done now. See ya'll tomorrow with my Valentines post.

Chronically Happy

This has nothing to do with pot, just so you know.

I have a brand-new pet peeve. People who are either obviously faking their happy or people who seem so disgustingly happy all the time that you know they have to go home and manually unscrew their smile.

I've recently come into contact with a woman who is so perky, so peppy, so happy that she makes me look like Tim Burton. That's saying something people. I'm a naturally good tempered person. I smile through about 80% of my day, have a very pleasant "office personality" and try to not let my foul moods show up on my face when they occur.

I am, however, human. Sometimes I can't muster up the energy to get my smile to my eyes or force a cheerful "hello" yell down the hallway to people as they pass. I leave people alone if they're outside of my designated zone of greeting. I pass people on the sidewalk and feel no need to greet each one with a cheerful hello.

This woman is obviously not human. Her smile is permaglued big and broad to her face, her voice is always booming, and if she passes within 100 yards of a living being she absolutely must know how you are doing and what you think of the weather.

I can't help it, seeing her smile makes mine go visibly dimmer.

So Weird

Sorry, there's no Fi here, or her crazy (apparently incest having) mother Mackenzie Phillips - too soon?!?

Seriously, that whole drama just terrifies and disgusts the crap out of me, poor Mac! So Weird was a completely epic television show though, I miss it.

/random blog-jack

Anyway, on to the original point of my post: Babies and the people who have them. A college friend just had her second. In fact a good portion of my friends and family have been popping them out left and right. I love babies, which probably comes as a shock to anyone who knew me in high school as I hated all children with a vengeance usually reserved for people who club baby seals.

As my cousins and friends start their families I do get that little tug from the center of my stomach, that want/need to make one of these myself. That "I need a baby" fever.

However, once that fog clears I just keep thinking that these people are my age or younger. How are they ready for kids? They're so young with so many other things that they could be experiencing sans all the kiddy crap they're now forced to tote around. I still feel so young, I know as a 17 year old I thought 24 was just about as old as you can get, but now, now I just feel like there's so much that I don't know.

I'm not in a place in my life where I'm even remotely ready for children, how can other women my age be? I see pictures of babies in incubators fresh from mommy's womb and wonder how they can be so ready.

I guess what I'm saying is that I love babies and one day I'd really like to have one of my own, but I don't understand how to be an adult, much less a parent. I still dance around my living room, build forts out of blankets, eat fudge-cicles, make snow angels, and I never make my bed. I think I'm way to childish to have a child of my own and I don't think I'll ever really grow up.

I still see the 12 year old with a tight ponytail, who reads smutty books under the covers late at night and locks herself in her room when she's angry. My mom had me when she was 23, did she still feel like a kid? Do I really have to grow up at some point and will I do it without even realizing it?

Technical Difficulties

I'm having them. I don't have time to deal with them, so I just switched some things up. Thanks for understanding!

Mad-Eye Moody Monday

Now for a teeny bit of whining. My poor dog has a torn muscle in her knee and has to go in for surgery to get it repaired! Poor Kate, I was a total wreck and cried at the vets office when he told me, not cool, not cool at all. So I've been busy spoiling her all weekend to make up for the fact that I'm a terrible pet owner. She's going to be a holy terror by the time she's completely healed.

I'm taking her to my parents country vet for a second opinion (and hopefully a cheaper price on surgery, that makes me a terrible person doesn't it?) this coming weekend. So I'm going to be a nervous wreck until this whole thing is over. I've chewed off all my finger nails, started twisting my hair, and can't sit still, it's mostly stuff that people wouldn't notice right off so I'm getting through most everything without letting on how worried and upset I am.

After all, Katie is just a dog, she's young, strong, and incredibly active so things will be fine she'll heal up just great and things will be better than before. *turns off auto-play on voice recorder*

Knowing logically that things should be fine doesn't make things fine in my head. Surgery is scary, anesthesia is scary, and waiting patiently is fucking hard. I'm good at these kinds of things from the outside, mostly because I completely and totally hide my feelings when I want/need to.

Just give me a half hour to myself to ball my eyes out and you'd never know how upset I am afterward. Only the small things give away what a wreck I am and I don't know of anyone who knows me well enough to recognize them.

Anyway, it seems like I'm making an awfully big deal for a very small, relatively safe procedure. All they're doing is going in and repairing/replacing a muscle in Katie's left knee, easy peasy.

Just something weird about me, I guess. I don't handle the people (or animals) in my life in pain very well, especially when there's absolutely nothing I can to actively help them recover.