It's that time again

This blog has been temporarily interrupted for fireworks season. Will post after July 5th.

Have a Happy and Safe 4th of July!

Ha Ha

Remember when you were a pre-teen and just really noticing boys? Remember the one that was oh, so fine and in high school. It didn't matter that he was "older" because that probably meant that he was more "mature". He drove and in your mind's eye you could picture yourself sitting shotgun with the wind blowing through your hair. He would reach for the radio the same time as you and just so gently, his hand would touch yours. He was the one that stopped time. His mere glance in your direction was hard proof that someday he'd be interested in you.

In my life this oh, so hot guy was Sean. Our families hung out together and by default we sort of hung out together too. Actually, he hung out with his much older friends and I tried desperately not to fall into the "little kid" crowd. I was much too self confident to fall to pieces when he would bring a girlfriend around. I knew that someday he'd see me. One day, I'd be his girlfriend and this current floozy, a distant memory.

One day Sean's mom was cleaning out his closet. She nearly threw out his John Elway jersey! Thankfully, I rescued the jersey from destruction and wore it as a pajama shirt for years. Yes, it was a way to FEEL closer to this near perfect man. Unfortunately, wearing his jersey was the closest I ever came to Sean. Despite my young, pre-teen heart full of hope, my love for Sean was unrequited.

Imagine my surprise when his name came up at a dinner party the other night, 23 years later! I had nearly forgotten him! Allowing for my cousins to make MAJOR fun of me, I admitted to my long time crush. "Oh, he still lives at home," my cousin remarks, "in the basement."

It's hard not to just say "Ha!" You missed out Sean, you missed your chance. And, thank the Lord for unanswered prayers!

My Hero

If you stay married long enough, you begin to reveal things about yourself to your spouse that you NEVER thought you'd share with another human being. It starts out small. Maybe a little gas or belch. Then it's "honey, while you're out, can you pick up some pads?" Childbirth, need I say more? Oh, and one of my personal favorites, snoring. With each passing year the layers peel away, little by little and if they don't completely horrify you then they bring you closer. When you've revealed the worst and are still loved... it's a good feeling.

Getting older is adding a whole new dimension to this phenomenon. We are truly mere shadows of those strangers that stood up and said "I do" 17 years ago. In many respects it's a good thing. They were shallow and very selfish. I'd like to think that we've grown since then.

This week I experienced a new, personal low. I fainted while in line for a roller coaster. Now, I can deal with the whole fainting part. I can use every excuse in the book. It was hot. I'm out of shape and there are three flights of stairs, blah, blah, blah. I can accept that, but what is sticking in my craw is the look on my husband's face when I came to. It was a look that I've never seen before and I know all his looks, or at least, I thought I did.

You see, I remember thinking as I was waiting in line that after this ride, I was going to have to find the nearest bathroom.... and that's when the lights went out, game over, woman down, bladder relieved. That's right, I peed. Thankfully, my darling hubby, my hero, caught me. Later, he said that he was trying to shield me from the crowd. But what I couldn't quite make out, and maybe I don't really want to know the answer, is was he trying to shield me from the crowd to hide my embarrassment or his? That look on his face. It was unreadable.

Now, he spent the rest of the day taking care of me. Fetching me water and being completely attentive, just like when we were dating. Hmmm... note to self. Just kidding. Anyway, I WANT to believe the best in him. I WANT to believe that he was only thinking of me and being noble. But, really, what if he was just going through the motions, because that's what husbands are supposed to do. What if really, deep down, he's disgusted? Who could blame him? It's not like you ever plan on having a day like that.

For now, I'm content to refer to him as my hero and leave it at that, and hopefully, it stays that way.

What?

It's painful, downright painful. It makes me want to scream out to God, "Are you freakin' kidding me?" I married young, had kids right away and basically spent my youth living for everyone else. So, here I am, smack dab in the middle of middle age, trying hard just to survive through the teenage years with the kids. I'm fighting the good fight, trying to grow and nurture a nearly 20 year relationship with my hubby. I'm working in a job and not a career because turning a job into a career is very time consuming and time is at a premium right now. So, it is (in my humble opinion) a cruel twist of fate that I am thrust forward into this new phase.

I knew that there was SOMETHING going on with me, but frankly, I was chalking it up to simply going off the deep end. Something a few bottles of wine, a weekend away with my girlfriends and a little chocolate could cure. But then it happened, and then, it happened again and again and again. I started dying of heat in the middle of the night. I caught myself burning up while the AC was only on 64 degrees. That was an ah-ha moment of my own. Still in denial, I asked my hubby if I felt feverish. But after several weeks, the mysterious fever that came and went in the middle of the night was not making sense. So, I braved it. I braved the Internet and that oh so charming website that can scare the crap out of you, WebMD.

My WebMD diagnosis.... perimenopause. I'm 36 freakin' years old people! Am I not entitled to a few good years before all this crap starts? Perimenopausal? It's kinda hard to deny when you have 10 out of 11 symptoms on the freakin' chart. 10 out of 11! I can't do anything halfway.

Here's my favorite part of this web info and I quote, "Menopause is a natural part of growing older. You don't need treatment for it unless your symptoms bother you." Bother me? Right now, EVERYTHING bothers me. I'm having a flashback to when I was 12 years old and mom was telling me not to be worried about getting my period. That it was "natural". She sold me a bill of goods then and this is strangely like deja-vu.

Oh, yeah, another favorite tidbit of advice, "Limit caffeine, alcohol and stress." SURE, I'LL GET RIGHT ON THAT. Did I mention that I'm only 36 years old? Now, I really have to make that OBGYN appointment that I meant to keep a few years back. Let me get out my red pen and put a big circle on that day. I'd frankly rather have a root canal.

I'm sorry. This blog might just turn into some aches and pains, put me out of my misery type of blog. I'll try to keep it under control. I don't want to be THAT woman. Shoot me if I turn into THAT woman! So, in the interest of sanity and all that is holy, I am open to advice. Pour it on people, I'm clearly behind the eight ball here.

Okay, So I Lied

I would like to think that for the most part I am a pretty honest person. I learned my lesson as a kid. I would spin lie after lie and then really have trouble keeping track of all of them. Every so often I'd be subjected to a family meeting in which I'd be asked about all the lies I had perpetrated upon my family. I hated those meetings, because my clever stepdad never really revealed just how much he already knew. I had to be very careful not to rat myself out further.

Eventually, I figured out that it just wasn't worth the effort. The energy it takes to live the lie is exhausting and never pans out anyway. Truly, having led such a checkered childhood has had its advantages. For instance, I can spot a lie coming out of a child's mouth a mile away. Yes, this is one of my best super power mommy skills.

So, it actually came as a surprise to myself, when I heard the lies coming directly from my own lips. I didn't think about it before hand, I didn't mull over the best lie to tell, it just popped out all natural like (maybe a leopard can never really can change its spots). It was a small, white lie, but still. My dental hygienist surprised me, "how many times a week do you floss?" What kind of loaded question is that? It reminded me of when the lady at the drivers lisence bureau asked me how much I weighed. Seriously, these questions are of a personal nature.

The thing is, I hate going to the dentist. When you have had perpetually bad teeth your whole life, and every time you go you're made to feel like a criminal and then charged $600 for the lovely experience, well then, a few white lies here and there just make the whole thing tolerable. Ummmhh... "four times a week" (Obviously lying here). And, now, I'm thinking four times a week! I'm really going to have to actually step up the whole flossing routine or I'm definitely getting caught in this lie. Basically, I'm a 36 year old, fairly well adjusted, woman that turns into a lilly livered, coward whenever it comes to issues that have to do with taking care of myself. Don't ask me about my weight either!

So, I lied... sue me.

I Have a Dream Too

In fifth grade, Mrs. Falling proclaimed that one day oceangypsy would be a writer. It made me blush, but I was proud. I was proud that someone thought I could do it and a writer seemed a noble thing to be.

In twelfth grade, I overheard Mr. Pendergast saying, "oceangypsy has all the makings of a really good writer." It was one of my best days.

That was eighteen years ago and dare I say that I still have a dream. I recently started a novel and the process is exhaustive. My plot plays out like a movie in my mind, but the written word takes so much longer to actually articulate. Maybe, it is the fact that I've taken an extended break from this craft. I find myself fumbling for words and they seem too simple, but I guess that's how I think.

And then, I consider a murder plot, but need to know how to make it convincing. Only, I chicken out on Googling any plausible ideas on the off chance someone in my life might come up shall we say, expired. I cannot have the evidence of researching a crime right there on my computer! Prison may offer a continental breakfast but I'm not quite ready for that country club just yet.

This process feels like being pregnant. I can't stop thinking about the "baby", but it exhausts me. I want the "baby" but am not sure if the whole labor thing is gonna work out.

The Lazy Days of Summer

This is my favorite time of year. Eighty+ degrees, soft breeze, lush green lawns, neighborhood kids playing ball, BBQ on the back patio with a side of cucumber and onions, and watermelon, yes, I love summer. I love the calming effect of watching fireflies. I love chatting with the neighbors over coffee on the front porch. I love gazing at a clear sky full of stars just after dark. Summer nights in the Midwest are magical.

Summers in the oceangypsy house mean gardening, swimming, camp, bonfires, fantastic grilling, and fireworks! Yes, the countdown to fireworks season has begun, only 22 days till delivery. Running the fireworks tent is one thing we all enjoy. There's nothing like it. Grandpa comes to help for the week and that means homemade ice cream!

And, so it is with deep, heartfelt sadness that I spend this terrific summer evening at work, bored to tears (apparently everyone is enjoying the outdoors). I am sitting here reminding myself of all the reasons I come to work: hubby transitioning into new career, bills, bills and more bills, electricity, water, food, healthcare, gas, clothing and generally not being lazy. I know I just need to be thankful for my job right now, but, please God, can one of these perfect summer nights land on a day off?

A Whole New World.....

It's been 36 years. For 36 years I've lived with a smoker. My dad smoked, my stepdad smoked and my hubby smoked. It's been over a month and my hubby is doing great. Dare I say it? I think he's quit, officially quit. And now, it's the little things that we're noticing, like no ashes to dust off the end table. No ash trays need emptying. Today, I washed my curtains and guess what, they won't smell like smoke in a week! The car window isn't always cracked open (which was highly offensive after a night of rain). The next time I travel and open my suitcase, the smoke smell won't knock me on my butt!
But, by a long shot, the very best side effect to my hubby not smoking is the fact that we can actually go places on time! We no longer have to make the last minute run to the gas station for cigarettes and coffee. QuikTrip will definitely see a decline in their profits.
Even my hubby has noticed lifestyle changes. He is trying to figure out how to decompress after being anxious or angry. He no longer has the two minute smoking ritual to calm down. And, he actually commented on how bad his car smelled! I cannot believe it. Finally. He finally knows what I've been putting up with. It really is a whole new world.