Updates
Let's see...what happened while I was gone?
I turned 33. It wasn't bad, except that the Cheesecake Factory made their slices of cheesecake smaller.
I had a cookout. It rained all day but cleared up in time to grill. Not a lot of people came, but my cake looked like a beach. That was cool.
Chris and I went to Florida to go visit my brother and sister-in-law. That was awesome. I will write more about that later. I have lots to say. Maybe tomorrow because Chris is building a porch and might not get over here tomorrow night. I was hoping we could have movie night, even though we did manage to curl up on the couch and watched "Knocked Up" one night in Florida.
One thing we know for sure: Our next trip to Florida will definitely include Shelby. She waited up for us Friday night when we called her from Atlanta and said we'd be home in a few hours. I'll post a picture of her in her Key West "pirate chick" t-shirt when I get it off my camera.
When I look at my life over the last six months, I am just amazed how much it has changed, how much I have changed. I am so happy with Chris and Shelby. All because someone was cool to me when I wished him a happy birthday in December. So, I decided that it was time to move on.
Of course, this past weekend I was staring my most ginormous crush of all times right in the face, and I made it out alive. I'm happy where I am. Not that he wanted to change that anyhow. He's always known where I was. And no matter what those guys say, there's a certain image in that world, and I don't have that image.
Nope. I'm just a kinda-sorta stepmom with her SUV/truck/station wagon/crossover vehicle with sippy cups, strollers, toys and car seats in the hatch. Last week, I held hands with my boyfriend on the beach and ate romantic dinners at beach-side cafes. I'm pretty damn happy, and I don't even wonder if the grass is greener on the other side.
Yep, love. It's a lot like Miracle Grow.
On Saturday, despite my claim that I was never getting in another car as long as I live, I headed to Louisville with some friends to see the little singing man. (Best to not say his name in case he googles himself again. Lol.) Anyhow, we had fun and it really wasn't a bad time. The show was different this year. Of course, the drive was long, I was tired and after walking miles in South Florida, the last thing I really needed was to stand in one spot trying to keep the crazy asses from stealing our spots near the stage. I finally gave up with about 30 minutes left and got a security guard to get me a chair. I don't need to get a high five or an autograph (although I would like to get something for that charity event next week!) to enjoy a concert. He doesn't know you're there (OK, he knew I was there, but that's a whole other therapy session) and you don't earn any points in heaven just because you're up by the stage. And besides, no one wants to have to help hold up Jennifer Nettles' mosh pit ball.
Of course, now I feel like hell because those crazy, inbred Kentucky mountain folks were smoking in the sandbar. Not just smoking, chain smoking. And nothing floats out of that pit. So, being that I am allergic to smoke, I can barely open my eyes today. I feel absolutely miserable. So much so that when Paul called my broke ass to work at Toy Hell today, I told him I needed to go home and rest. I can't wait to take out my contacts, take a benadryl and go to bed.
I have to go to work tomorrow, and I am dreading it. One of my coworkers felt the urge to tell me someone got the can while I was on vacation. I know I do a great job and have no performance issues, but it always makes me nervous when someone gets the can, especially because the economy is in the toilet and I know the budget at work is already blown for the year. Chris might just be fixing to get a really good job, and he tells me if that happens that I won't have to work anymore. I'm not going to hold my breath, and it's not like I don't want to work anyhow. At least until I have kids.
But, I guess if something does happen to my job I can work on the Great American Novel, because at some point I need to do that. So, I'll be OK, as long as my new car doesn't get repossessed.
I'll do a better job of keeping you posted. I'm not going to post at work, but I'm going to try to get on a few times a week and write for at least just a little bit. It's hard sometimes, but I'm going to try better.
Better?
I'm feeling a little better today, but I don't know when I'll be 100 percent again. I'm hoping maybe I can improve my disposition by my party, but we'll see.
I don't know what's going on with Chris. He was upset yesterday, which was not my doing, and he didn't take it out on me, but he did push me away. He was supposed to be coming home from his friend's house, and he was supposed to come over after I got off work. Well, he tells me he's not coming. I ask him why and he goes on this whole big thing about how my neighbors hate him and he's not wanted there anymore, and he's not staying there, which is only partly true.
My neighbors are gossips. Everyone's neighbors are gossips. I don't have the time to be in other people's business, but apparently they do. So, they've all been telling Jane how Chris lives with me. So Jane asked me about it. She wasn't mad; she just wanted to know what was going on, and I gladly explained to her that he doesn't live with me, but I do like spending time with him and he's been helping around the house while he's not working, so he's around quite a bit. I should've just talked to Jane about it and never mentioned it to Chris, but I was upset about the neighbors being in my business, so I said something. And now he can't drop it, and he's using it as an excuse to not spend time with me.
I love him, and I'll be upset if things don't work out with us, but at the same time I don't deal well with drama. In fact, when I was coming up with a list of career options, my brother pooh-poohed nursing because I just can't deal with those kinds of situations. Hell, it doesn't surprise me. I can barely watch ER. I just know that nurses are in demand, and I lack marketable skills.
I hope everything works out, but right now he's being pissy and I'm sad about that. He can come home, because Jane said everything was fine.
But part of me wonders if he doesn't want to. Part of me thinks he's pushing me away for some other reason. I don't know what it is, but I do know one thing: I don't beg people to have relationships with me. I don't beg people who are mad at me to still be my friends. I don't beg boyfriends to give me another chance. I just don't beg.
I'm still pretty pissed about not getting to go to Florida. I'm still not sure what I'll do. I guess I have a week to figure it out. I could really use a beach, but I don't want to go bankrupt. And if I'm on my own, there's no way I can drive down there by myself, and it's way too expensive to get a plane ticket now.
Maybe everything will work itself out. I'm trying to be positive and not so doom and gloom, but it's just not working very well. I've always been the type to expect the absolute worst and then be pleasantly surprised if everything isn't super shitty.
Blah.
I'm trying to write something for work, and it's just crap. It's already late because I forgot about it and because I didn't actually go to the meeting that I'm covering (remind me sometime to tell you about the city government reporter who worked with me at the newspaper). Anyhow, this is not a great article.
I'm beginning to wonder about the writing thing. I wonder if I really am good at it. I thought I had a freelance gig lined up, but they never contacted me after I submitted my work samples. Maybe I'm not good at this at all. Other freelance jobs I've looked at aren't going to pan out, because I refuse to spend hours working on a project with no set fee. Or worse yet, a fee that doesn't make it worth my time. I have heard rumors about writers being asked to work for $2 an hour, and I could hardly believe it, but now I have seen it with my own eyes.
I never planned to get rich being a writer. I just wanted to get by, maybe meet some interesting people along the way, and I've done that, even if it means right now that I sell toys to little children to make ends meet. However, that's not going well either right now, and I am just not sure what to do.
I'm at a crossroads. I don't know what I do or where I go next. One thing's for sure, there aren't a lot of jobs for writers, especially ones where you can actually make money. I'm lucky to have a good job, but I don't know how much longer that will last. And I'm not sure what that means when I'm getting 4 hours a week at Toyland.
I've canceled my trip to Florida because I can't afford to go. I'm trying to figure out if there's a way to get out of having a birthday party this weekend, but I haven't figured it out yet. Just more money I don't want to spend. I'm really starting to panic.
And the more I look at that stupid new car the more I get pissed at myself for buying it. Not like I can do anything about that. The old one has been sold. If it hadn't, I'd be selling the new one at a loss to not have to worry about fucking money all the time.
I guess I need to be a grown-up, which is going to mean making a lot of grown-up decisions. I suspect this is going to be quite unpleasant. But I already feel like everything is generally unpleasant right now, so I guess it doesn't matter.
I'm in a funk. A funk that birthday presents can't fix. I just don't care right now. I'm so mad that I don't get to see my brother and one of my best friends. I'm so mad that I'm stuck with a car that I resent with all the marrow in my bones. I hate all the stupid idiots who have gotten our country into this trouble it's in.
Someone told me that I need to stop seeing the glass half empty, but I just don't even get how I'm supposed to do that these days.
And besides, as long as I can afford tissues, it's just easier to cry all the time.
Updates
I have been sick lately, but I'm pretty sure that I didn't have the swine flu. Or at least Lance said my temperature was never high enough. All I know is that I felt like I might die there a few times since Monday.
So, now I am feeling a little better, which is good because I'm still busy. I had to work at Toyland today, but it wasn't bad at all.
Now I am home, and I'm watching Sweet Home Alabama while I cook some beer chicken for tomorrow. I got my first farmers' co-op delivery today. We got tons of lettuces, radishes, green onions, strawberries, a whole chicken and eggs. I'm pretty excited. However, the fridge at Toyland froze some of the lettuce. It probably would've been ok on the breakroom table while I worked, so lesson learned for the next time I have to rush from one job to the next on a Wednesday.
I am excited about the beer chicken. I made it once before, but I really thought it needed a rub to give it more flavor. I wasn't sure what kind to use or if I should make one, but then I remembered I had some grill rub from Rendezvous, the famous barbecue place in Memphis. Needless to say, I decided to try that this time. I'm hoping it's as delicious as I think.
So dinner tomorrow is beer chicken, mac and cheese, salad and maybe baked beans. I'm thinking strawberry shortcake for dessert, but I may use sugar cookies for the cakes like my grandma suggested. That sounds yummy. I'll report back on how that works.
My face is still bothering me. I don't know if it's still healing or if I have permanent nerve damage. What I do know is that my insurance company is going after the place I fell, and they expect me to help them. I'm not a particularly litigious person, so I don't know what to do with all this correspondence with words like "legal counsel" and "settlement." I guess we'll see how that all pans out.
I finally decided what to do for my birthday. I'm just having a cookout at the house since we'll have Shelby that day. I don't want to ask Chris' mom to watch her for us. I'm sure she'll be the hit of the party.
Mike's coming from Atlanta next week, so at some point in the next few days I'll need to clean my house. I just need to do lots of laundry and run the vacuum for the most part. With a two year old, it seems like you're always doing laundry.
Lastly, don't you hate when you tell someone to drop something, and they keep going with it? Especially when it involves the person sticking his or her nose where it doesn't belong. I really can't stand drama, and that ALWAYS causes drama. So then I'm digging out and apologizing for something I didn't do. It's so lovely. Oh well.
Google this!
I am going to have lunch with my friend Mistee. Maybe we'll talk about Kenny Chesney. (Or Brad Paisley, Keith Urban or that sexy Mr. Herzberg.)
The Beginning
This morning, as I was making sausage, pancakes and eggs while a two-year old covered my cat with a dish towel and I could hear snoring coming from an air mattress in the middle of my living room floor, I realized that life doesn't get much better than this. I let my mind wander back and think about a time several months ago that led me to where I am right now.
One day after work, I rushed home to throw on some jeans and meet a stranger at Applebee's. Well, he wasn't really a stranger. We'd been talking online for a couple of weeks, and we were going to meet in person since he was going to be in Nashville (he lives about 15 miles out of town), and I didn't have to work (a rarity during December in Toyland).
So, with my butterflies in my stomach, I headed in to the restaurant. There was a very handsome man waiting for me. A true Southern gentleman, he stood up when I got there until I took my seat. We sat down, started talking and then he took out his computer and started to show me pictures of his daughter, an absolute cutie. He told me all about her, and I have never seen a man so proud of his daughter before. As we were looking at the pictures, his laptop knocked over his drink, which went spilling onto the table (and the man) next to us.
That's when I decided the minute we got done with supper that I'd take him over to Toys R Us and get him one of those digital picture keychains for him to put all of Shelby's pictures on. And I did.
And then we went to Petco and he carried my bag of food and box of litter to the car.
Glamorous, first date, eh?
The next night, I was finished with work and I'd gone over to the sports figures to look for one of the Dallas Cowboys for Will. Ironic, eh?
While I'm standing there, here comes the cute guy from the night before. He was just headed home after going Christmas shopping with a friend (I found out later he was on a date with someone else) and decided to stop at the store and see if I was still at work.
I have told him this already, so I guess it's OK to tell y'all: I knew the minute he came to see me at work less than 24 hours after our date had ended that he liked me and we were going to be together.
Maybe I made my mind up about it just then.
Regardless, the last five months of my life have been great. There are challenges; that happens in any relationship. But the good memories outweigh the bad. We are there for each other and love each other, and I'm happy. I like getting up in the morning and making breakfast on the weekends. What made me think back to the beginning was because I thought of the morning after the first time he spent the night, and I made him a big breakfast in the morning. He told me, "You might not want to do that, because I might not ever leave."
He wasn't really joking.
But, I knew, before that first breakfast that he wasn't going anywhere. I knew that night he came looking for me at Toys R Us. I knew when he brought Shelby there to meet me. And when the three of us had our first "date" making gingerbread houses and eating grilled cheese sandwiches. I knew when I used to call him on Friday nights when I was leaving Toys R Us late at night and asked him if he wanted to join me for pizza and a movie after Shelby went to bed. And, I knew the night before that first breakfast when we sat on the couch watching TV and he kept looking at me like he wanted to kiss me.
I let him stay (with the intentions of sleeping on my couch) because my friend from Lynchburg, Jack D, had hung out with us and neither of us needed to drive. But when he came upstairs and woke me up knocking on my door, I answered it.
Because, even though he likes to say he's "damaged goods," he's good to me, and we make a good team. When I was hurt a few weeks ago, I couldn't have gotten through it without him helping me. And even though dinner's getting cold on the kitchen table, I'm so glad to have him in my life.
Like I said, it's not all easy. But he's going to a job fair tomorrow, and I'm hoping this run of shitty luck he's had (with the exception of finding me, of course) will start to turn. He deserves it.
After all, I suspect this is just The Beginning for us. At least I hope so.
