Just Another Day

Yesterday, we spent the day at the in-laws house.  They have a pool and so we were laying out in the sun and messing around in the pool until around five or so.  The original idea was they would grill out (since it’s against our lease agreement to grill on our little balcony), but we also visited Saturday and had steaks.  So, we went out to Applebee’s.  I don’t usually drink, especially not in front of other people, so I didn’t get a chance to try the Kahlua mudslide thing I saw.  It looks like a sundae.  I hate alcohol, but that looked tasty.  Just as well, I was already about to pass out anyway.

husbandraft

The above picture illustrates what we did all day.  Although, exchange my husband for me on the float and you’ve got the idea.  I don’t know why I was so tired.  I was tired even while swimming, I thought I’d fall asleep on the raft.  Luckily, my husband was annoying me like a small child in a public pool, so no chance of that happening.  He kept flicking water on me and threatening to toss me over.  I warned him not to, I’d just highlighted my hair.  I don’t want my hair turning green, thanks.

The in-laws wanted to see a movie, but they like to go to the theater at the center of town which is just a longer trip home for us.  Never mind that we prefer the new, leather seats and everything theater at the mall.  It’s also twenty minutes closer for us.  We decided against seeing a movie (we both agreed we’d probably just fall asleep during it anyway) and settled on food.  We stopped by Walmart quick to see if they had any of that supremely awesome Jergen’s Natural Glow… but alas, no.  They’ve been out for over a month and just the fair.  The medium is there, but the one I need?  Always gone.  Argh!

rainbow1

rainbow2

On our way home, we saw a rainbow.  A weird thing to see, as it hadn’t really rained all that much so much as rumbled around.  Still, it was pretty.  I got these pictures while we were driving and through the dirty windows of our car.  It really needs some cleaning TLC…

I realized the other day that my period was going to fall on the exact time that we start our vacation in Key West.  Wonderful.  I devised a plan to use my “period pills” a week this month and just keep taking the other pills into the other pack.  Seasonique works differently in that there are no placebo or sugar pills.  Even the ones you take during your period have hormones in them.  I’m sure it’ll come back to bite me in the ass someway, but I don’t care.  I’m not being miserable down there, especially not during my Anniversary.  That’s kind of idiotic.

In other news, I just got an email from the husband saying that the girls in personnel had told his boss (the one over the position I applied for) that they only had one application and it was one of their girls.  They claimed they never received my fax.  Unfortunately for them, my husband keeps records of everything and has the fax confirmation and everything.  So, his boss is going to sort it out.  He told me not to worry, but… if they’re already sabotaging things, I’m a little concerned.

Especially since his boss has to go through them to get me cleared for the job.  I don’t have a four-year degree and originally, he told me it wasn’t required.  Personnel, who puts out the job listings, said they had to do a “form” type listing and couldn’t personalize it the way his boss wanted it.  Essentially, what’s listed has nothing to do with what the actual job is!  Still, if I get picked, they have to clear me.  Buh.  Nothing is ever simple or easy for me, is it?  This is only the beginning, I know it.

I still need to exercise, but I’m so tired.  I don’t understand why.  I had the damnedest time dragging my ass out of bed this morning.  I’m having a bit of spotting, too, so I’m sure it’s something with hormones and the Seasonique.  Buh.  I just want to go back to bed and curl up under the covers… sleep, glorious sleep.  I don’t feel like I slept at all last night.

I can’t believe it’s freaking June already… and this week is going to breeze by due to the three-day weekend.  Damn.

Tired and Restless

I had every intention of posting something while I was still in Pennsylvania.  I guess time just got ahead of me.  For once, the week didn’t pass too quickly… things were pretty slow the first few days and then they picked up as the week went on.  I spent plenty of time with my grandparents and my dad.  I was actually thankful that my dad was willing to spend time with me.  Usually he acts like he’s just too busy and it’s a pain to make time.  Seriously, these are the parents I deal with.  We won’t even go into how I only saw my mother twice the entire time I was up there.

It’s weird to think about how much has changed since last year at this time.  It isn’t just that my parents have split up and that my family dynamic has changed, either… I’ve changed.  I didn’t really cry this time when we left or even have the urge to, despite hating the fact that I had to leave my grandma.  I really wish I could see them more than I do.  As for the place itself, I guess I have some roundabout connection to it, but its nothing like it was.  In the back of my mind, I know there’s something there… but it seems relatively unimportant in the grand scheme of things.  I never thought I’d feel so apathetic about the place I spent the first twenty-one years of my life.

Surprisingly, we only have one bout of drama.  One… that has to be a record.  Of course, it involved mum.  I finally went into the attic and retrieved dad’s beloved, collectable ornaments for his favorite football team.  He spent a lot of money on them.  Anyway, she had said I could do it multiple times and then, decided, that I couldn’t.  She stormed over to my grandparents house and was going to try and take them.  My husband and I were both sitting there with my grandma.  She started yelling and I did what I always do–I just spoke calmly to her.  If you yell back she just gets louder and it upsets my grandma even more.  I’ve warned my husband not to interfere, but he’s seen her do this all the time and got fed up.  So he stood up and told her to get her drunken ass out of the house, now.

Now, my reaction wasn’t what you’d expect… it certainly wasn’t what I’d expected, either.  I just felt this rush of something.  My mum and I are not fond friends, we’re barely even acquaintances anymore.  The sheer fact that she pushed my grandma makes me want to choke her.  However, she is my mother, whether I like it or not and she wasn’t always this fire-breathing beast of insanity.  I stopped everything, very quickly.  I got her calmed down and out of the house.  I told my husband not to do that again.  I told him it was because it was my problem and I’d deal with it… but in reality?  It’s because I’ll probably backhand him and not because I directly want to.  I’m just insanely protective of my family.  Inner-family fighting is fine, but anytime an outsider gets involved, it’s just not good.  I’d never directly involve myself in his family’s conflict… so I’d like it if he kind of stayed out of ours.  I appreciate his meaning behind the action and everything, but… it just doesn’t work out the way you’d like it to in those types of situations.

All in all, it was a good visit.  It feels weird to return.  I liked not having to spend all my free moments worrying about the internet or finding some form of socialization on it.  I enjoyed talking to my various family members and getting to spend time with them.  I miss them, especially now… alone again and on the internet.  Eventually, I’ll break this cycle, find something else to do… hopefully.

I did find out something interesting digging through my old stuff, though.  A report card from kindergarten… it stated that my teacher was happy I was able to do things without friends.  Apparently, I’ve been a loner since given the option…

I’m a What?

So, in an effort to somehow find something worth celebrating, I drug my mother-in-law out of the house yesterday for some shopping.  Of course, it took forever because my mother-in-law isn’t one of those women who preemptively plans.  She just sort of does.  And it takes forever.  The mall closes at six, so yeah.  When we finally got out of the door, fun was to be had.  We went to a few places, looked at some dresses, and then headed over to Victoria’s Secret, because she has a coupon and, well, I saw they had a silver bikini.  I had already purchased a blue bandeau top bikini from there, it was on sale, but had I seen the silver one?  I totally would have grabbed it instead.  So after some wheedling, the fiance fronted the money, and I was happily united with my silver bikini.  Complete with under-boob.  Because they don’t make swimsuits for people with actual boobs, apparently.

Anyway, we’re there and I’m trying to convince my mother-in-law that she needs to try their “perfect fit” bra–because it is truly, truly glorious.  I love mine.  A saleswoman greets us and she asks for my mother-in-law’s size.  She says, with a sigh, “I’m a 36B.”

I blink, a little startled.  I know we’ve had this conversation before, but I say what I always say anyway, “That’s the size I wear.

Both the saleswoman and my mother-in-law look at me, and then my boobs, as if I grew a third one.  The saleswoman then shakes her head, clucks her tongue, and comes at me with measuring tape.  She deduces that I am, “A 34 D.”

My face blanches, turning a pale beyond the pale that I already am, and I’m pretty sure I barely croaked out, “E-Excuse me?  That’s not possible.”

So, I’m drug to a dressing room and showered with bras.  After I finally convinced both the saleswoman and my mother-in-law (who ended up touching my bra shielded boobs) that the 34 is way, way too small, please give me back my 36 NOW and that the D is slightly too large, we settled on 36C.  Thirty-mfing-Six C.  Women go under the knife for that size.  When did this happen?  How did I remain oblivious to the melons hidden beneath my shirts?  I still don’t see it.  I look in the mirror and I do not see size C boobs.  I see the same, small boobs I’ve always had.  When did this happen?  How did I miss it?

My dad took me to get bras, mostly.  I vaguely remember my mother’s involvement, but that was on the cusp of her descent into full-blown alcoholism.  Mostly, it was my dad and myself, wandering the panty and bra aisles like we didn’t belong.  My dad scared young girls away many times.  It was hilarious.  We had fun.  But I remember, throughout adolesence, wishing for the rack that my other family members are graced with (sans my aunt and cousin).  And it’s there.  Apparently, it’s been there for a significant amount of time.  I have underboob on a string bikini, for God’s sakes.  I’m bigger than several Victoria Secret models and I have a better body type.  WTF?

The worst part of it all is that I own about $500-600 worth of bras that are now a size too small.  Fabulous.  When I told my fiance this big development, he sighed, shook his head and gave me that smug look of self-satisfaction, “I told you.”

The day didn’t end there, however.  My mother-in-law lost her keys in the one of the panty drawers at Victoria’s Secret and we spent ten minutes after closing trying to find them.  Sigh.

Happy Hibatchi!

I’m just going to start this one off easy… for my fiancé’s birthday, I got hit in the head with shrimp.  Twice.  Now that I’ve said that, we’ll get to the meat of things.  I’ve been trying my hardest since April began (and a bit before) to make the fiancé’s birthday something good.  He’s not a birthday person.  He gets depressed and mopey.  He was diagnosed with leukemia and given two-three days to live around his birthday when he was three.  It was not a happy time.  April is riddled with checkups, filling out forms, and other necessaries that come with experimental protocols.  He’ll do it for the rest of his life.

Plus, he’s just a big old sap.  He gets all sad because “no one remembers”.  I remember.  Sure, it took me awhile, but I suck at birthdays.  I can barely remember my own father’s!  It’s July 26th… I think?  Maybe.  Anyway, I remember and his family remembers.  That’s all that should matter!  But to him, it isn’t.  He wants the people he works with to remember, the people he considers friends to remember.  So you know what?  They’re going to remember, damn it, whether I have to tattoo it onto the insides of their eyeballs.  I was also determined that he would finally get his birthday off.  No work, just relaxation and enjoyment.

Well, that didn’t happen.  Our manager said he “couldn’t make it work” despite me telling him from day one, fiancé gets that damn day off.  I wrote his birthday on the calendar.  So, I handed in my two weeks and made it very clear I was not happy.  At all.  The manager ‘tried’ to make things right, but it wasn’t enough for me.  Fiancé still had to go into work (as did I) and we left at two instead of closing.  Not thanks to the manager, but thanks to another employee for coming in and covering for him.  So pissed about that still, but I digress.  When we got home, his parents had a cake for him and cards.  I had forewarned his mother that perhaps being a little nicer to him on his birthday would go a long way.  That maybe doing something past “oh, by the way, happy birthday” might be critical.  They took my nudge seriously, thank God.

It took me forever to get where the fiancé wanted to go for dinner.  He just didn’t know.  So I started suggesting things and remembered there was a Hibachi (Japanese grill restaurant) that came to town a few months back.  He loves Benihana’s in Key West, so I figured it was worth a shot.  So we all piled into the car and navigated the city streets while it was raining.  The restaurant was beautiful, I’ve never been to a Hibachi before.  It was definitely an experience.  I’m a very picky eater, I do not try things both because I am a picky eater and my severe food OCD.  But I did, for him, because it was his birthday.  I tried onion soup, fried rice, ginger stuff, and overcooked, bland steak.  I almost even tried cabbage, but decided that my vomitting on the grill wouldn’t be conductive to a good birthday.  Needless to say, I came home and felt sick for the rest of the night.  Oh God.  And I got hit with shrimp twice.  But the orange sherbert was to die for and the fiancé had a great time.  It was $100, I’m glad the in-laws covered the bill!  Sheesh.

In the end, the fiancé had a good birthday and I could finally, finally take a rest.  I’ve been badgering people, dropping hints, mentally preparing and sorting for weeks.  I also had to suppress my extreme frustration at the fact that the fiancé never gets a day off, we never get any time to ourselves, and when we do, he wants to be a pervert.  It was his birthday, I had to let the frustration/anger go.  But now it’s back and we shall have a talk.  The things I do, honestly.  I think I was more exhausted than he was, but I’m so glad everything went somewhat according to plan.  Except getting the day off.  Still pissed about that and soon to be jobless.  Ah well.  Just tack it up to the many, many other things I have to stress and worry over…

In Like a Lion?

So, it’s March.  Holy crap.  I’m still kind of in shock.  This time, last year, I was preparing a small arsenal of things to haul with me down here to the Tri-State area.  I was still kind of apprenhensive about living with my soon-to-be in-laws and working.  Now it’s nearly been a year.  Damn.  It’s felt like more than a year, and yet in some ways, it hasn’t.  It’s weird how time works.  When you think it’s moving slowly, it’s actually zipping forward at record speeds.

Today, however, seems to be dragging on as slow as molasses.  Maybe it’s because I feel like a nervous mother who has just sent her child off to kindergarten.  The fiancé’s first day of work with the WV State Police as a Forensic Analyst began today, this morning, actually.  He left around 7:15am.  Of course, I woke up with him and demanded he eat breakfast.  I’m insanely maternal like that.  When he left, I went back to bed and awoke an hour or so later to Loki-cat sleeping in the little space where I had curled up.  His head was resting on my leg.  It made me happy and sad… sad mostly, because I miss my cat tremendously.  Especially when I wake up.  She always slept with me and I awoke to the sound of her purring.  I want so badly to have her with me again, it tears me up to leave her alone.  I can’t wait until we get an apartment.

The fiancé insists on working at his old job on weekends, so I’m still working Saturdays and Sundays.  This means I have every weekday off and I’ll be without the fiancé until at least 4pm.  I’m not even sure what to do.  It’d be different if this were my house, but it isn’t, so really… I don’t have any cleaning or maintenance to do.  I guess I’ll have to focus on wedding stuff and planning on when I need to go back to PA for a week.  Buh.  The wedding stuff is annoying, I didn’t want a ‘real’ wedding because of the annoyance… but it seems they are annoying no matter how small or minute.

I still need to get my dress altered and I have to pick out jewelry.  Which is easy, since most of it is cheap.  I also need shoes… not so easy.  I saw some jewelry at WalMart that was really shiny and pretty, but impossibly fake… but also very cheap.  Hey, it all looks the same in pictures, you know?  So if I can’t find anything else, I’ll definitely be getting that, because it would look great with my dress.  I am also probably the only female who didn’t know that people had ‘wedding showers’.  The conversation that resulted in this discovery was rather hilarious.

MIL, smiling: “Lee wants to throw you a shower!”

Me, incredulous: “…but I’m not pregnant!”

MIL, looking at me as if I have twenty heads: “NO!  A wedding shower!  God, sometimes I wonder what planet you’re from.”

Me too, MIL.  Me too.

And then, to make matters worse?  She busted into our room last night as we were relaxing and getting ready to go to bed.  She started tormenting my fiancé with a mother’s love, which is always hilarious.  She tries to hug and kiss him and he feigns repulsion and pushes her away.  She eventually pulls out some scissors and starts working them.  I jokingly ask her if she’s sure she wants to castrate her only chance at grandchildren.  She says the following:

“I had a dream last night.  You know, one of my dreams.  It was a cute little baby girl with a tag.  The tag said, ‘A Gift from God.’  I think it means someone who isn’t ready for a baby yet has one.  I wonder who?  I wonder what it means.”

Good thing she doesn’t know our planned name for our daughter, if and when we have one, is Evangeline.  That could’ve been messy…