My sister texted me last week "only two more days of birth control..." I played dumb. Then I didn't really say anything at all. She wants me to be excited for her, and ask questions. I don't. We don't know each other anymore. I was so furious though. I wanted to ask if she's been to the doctor, had a physical, is taking prenatals, has read a single book, has talked to Frank about parenting styles, about discipline styles, if they even have any, what they're going to do about living arrangements, what they're going to do about their jobs, whether she still has panic attacks thinking about it, why she wants to have a kid, what are her reasons? So furious. Because I personally think she's only planning on having one because their best friends are pregnant. So there's that news.
Husband and I are planning on moving to Arizona. In a year. He has a friend he works with at Olive Garden that's moving down there with his wife (who's also a teacher) and more or less convinced us. We had thrown the idea around for the past year or so of moving out of state for a few years after he's done with school. If we're going to live anywhere else, now's the time to do it. There's a school in both Mesa and Tucson that offers the physical therapy assistant program, and it only takes a year and a half instead of two, so that's good for me. And timing should work out, it starts twice a year, and we're hoping to be down there in May or June, July at the latest, when our lease is up here. The Husband and I are not spontaneous people per se, but with big decisions, we both know right away. We're keeping it quiet for now, don't want to upset family, and it should be fun to tell my sister that, no, I won't be around to babysit for her (that's really just a perk though).
We started donating plasma. Money has been seriously tight, and we're about $300 short for our trip, so why not get paid to get poked twice a week? We're getting $360 a month, not bad. Pays for groceries.
Our friend Mark came over last week and he and Husband got super drunk and Husband came to bed at 4:30. 4:45, he attacked me. He has really horrible nightmares, especially when he gets drunk. He grabbed my arms, I thought he was going to break them, and was screaming who knows what. His eyes were open, he was responding to me, but he would not let go. I was kicking/yelling/everything I could think of. He eventually went for my throat but at the last second, stopped, sat up, mumbled something, and went back to sleep. He felt so bad about it the next day, he cried. Poor guy. I'm just not going to sleep with him when he gets that drunk. It's not his fault, but that doesn't mean I want a repeat.
Husband's family is coming over next week for vacation/birthdays. I'm excited! I get to cook for everyone and I took Friday off and so everyone'll be together. It should be a good time!
I feel very cut and dry in this post. But I have a headache, and I think I'm going to watch a movie. Husband is at work and the place is clean, so I don't have much else to do. That's about all the updates anyway.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Monday, May 28, 2012
dog park
We've been taking the dogs to the dog park. They love it of course. There's a section for small dogs and large dogs and no one's in the small dog section which is great because ours can get a little aggressive. Yesterday, there was a little girl there, physically she looked to be about 5 or 6, she was big for her age, but her face and mentality put her at 3, maybe pushing 4. And I wanted to punch her in the face. For no other reason than she was being a kid and acting her age. She was in and out of both parks, leaving the gates open to both (Apricot was inches away from escaping), she demanded treats to give to her dog (rather than asking), demanded that we bring one of our dogs over to her dog and put them on the picnic table. We tried, she tried, they weren't having it. She got frustrated and mad at us. Demanded more treats. She annoyed the hell out of me. I don't like kids that age. And I don't like when kids aren't taught manners. It's not her fault for not knowing that you ask, rather than demand. But that doesn't mean it's not goddamn annoying, that's why you teach them, so people don't hate your kid.
This is why I need to change my attitude! Or at least have coping mechanisms in place beforehand. Because my kid is going to be goddamn annoying and I can't punch it in the face. Dang it. I know you can't like your kid all the time, we're not perfect and everyone gets annoying. I just hope that the annoying times don't last too long because I would hate for my kid to somehow know/figure out that "mom doesn't really like you". When I told The Husband that I don't like kids that age and my reaction to the little girl, he looked...it was an "oh shit" moment. Like, "she's got a lot of stuff to work out, if she thought that kid was annoying". And I hated that look on his face. Like it was an unacceptable or morally wrong reaction to have. That's not really fair. I didn't punch her in the face! I was nice, I asked her questions, I gave her her treats. I can fake it. But that doesn't mean I don't feel something other than what I project. In the future, I'd like to be able to tell him how I feel without that look on his face because that hurt.
This is why I need to change my attitude! Or at least have coping mechanisms in place beforehand. Because my kid is going to be goddamn annoying and I can't punch it in the face. Dang it. I know you can't like your kid all the time, we're not perfect and everyone gets annoying. I just hope that the annoying times don't last too long because I would hate for my kid to somehow know/figure out that "mom doesn't really like you". When I told The Husband that I don't like kids that age and my reaction to the little girl, he looked...it was an "oh shit" moment. Like, "she's got a lot of stuff to work out, if she thought that kid was annoying". And I hated that look on his face. Like it was an unacceptable or morally wrong reaction to have. That's not really fair. I didn't punch her in the face! I was nice, I asked her questions, I gave her her treats. I can fake it. But that doesn't mean I don't feel something other than what I project. In the future, I'd like to be able to tell him how I feel without that look on his face because that hurt.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
grumpy
I had a dream the night before last that my grandmother passed away and I only found out by reading her obit. It was one of those that was so realistic, you aren't sure if it actually happened or not. It hasn't so far, but I wouldn't be surprised. And that makes me mad.
She's almost 94 and has dementia. She's been living with my parents for the past seven years and she is the sweetest lady you'll ever meet. She's had diabetes for years, she's blind, almost deaf and still laughs constantly. She used to sing opera but she had her first stroke when she was in her 40's and hasn't been able to sing properly since. She still gets her toe tapping if she hears music though. I haven't seen her in three or four years. I don't think I will again. She doesn't remember me and I have no desire to see my parents any time soon. I prefer to keep the memory I have of her intact. She's not doing well. She's had TIA's for years and the next big stroke will probably take her. It's what she wants. She wakes up in the middle of the night, thinking she's seeing angels and they're trying to take her home. She cries when she doesn't go with them. Talk about being ready to go.
I imagine I'll get a phone call either early in the morning or early evening from my mom, letting me know she's gone. (Although I wouldn't put it past them to call my sister and have her call me.) And I can't decide if I want to go to the funeral or not. I'm thinking no. It'll only be used as a platform to preach and evangelize and talk about preaching to the choir, the only people who'll be there are family and they're all converts anyway. But they'll do it and what's the point? There are eight siblings, seven of which will show up, and their extended families, and they're all crazy. On the one hand, it'd be a wonderful opportunity for the Husband to see The Craziness, but I just don't want to handle all the drama. My aunts and my mom all hate each other and think that mom has done a horrible job with grandma. And the brothers are almost all pastors. And they're all fighting over the "stuff" in the house. Call me crazy, but I don't want to be there for that. So, Grandma, I love you, and I'll remember you. You made me gross-tasting peanut butter and jelly sandwiches after school and yelled at me for eating all your strawberries. You taught me Sunday School and I still have your graduation card. Sorry your kids ended up crazy.
She's almost 94 and has dementia. She's been living with my parents for the past seven years and she is the sweetest lady you'll ever meet. She's had diabetes for years, she's blind, almost deaf and still laughs constantly. She used to sing opera but she had her first stroke when she was in her 40's and hasn't been able to sing properly since. She still gets her toe tapping if she hears music though. I haven't seen her in three or four years. I don't think I will again. She doesn't remember me and I have no desire to see my parents any time soon. I prefer to keep the memory I have of her intact. She's not doing well. She's had TIA's for years and the next big stroke will probably take her. It's what she wants. She wakes up in the middle of the night, thinking she's seeing angels and they're trying to take her home. She cries when she doesn't go with them. Talk about being ready to go.
I imagine I'll get a phone call either early in the morning or early evening from my mom, letting me know she's gone. (Although I wouldn't put it past them to call my sister and have her call me.) And I can't decide if I want to go to the funeral or not. I'm thinking no. It'll only be used as a platform to preach and evangelize and talk about preaching to the choir, the only people who'll be there are family and they're all converts anyway. But they'll do it and what's the point? There are eight siblings, seven of which will show up, and their extended families, and they're all crazy. On the one hand, it'd be a wonderful opportunity for the Husband to see The Craziness, but I just don't want to handle all the drama. My aunts and my mom all hate each other and think that mom has done a horrible job with grandma. And the brothers are almost all pastors. And they're all fighting over the "stuff" in the house. Call me crazy, but I don't want to be there for that. So, Grandma, I love you, and I'll remember you. You made me gross-tasting peanut butter and jelly sandwiches after school and yelled at me for eating all your strawberries. You taught me Sunday School and I still have your graduation card. Sorry your kids ended up crazy.
Friday, May 18, 2012
the sister post
My sister and I used to be so close. We shared a room for the first eleven years of my life, until she went to college. And after that, we were even closer, with as much as I looked up to her. She was a god, a queen, that could do no wrong. There really wasn't any rational reason for it. But I don't suppose there is any rationale for sisterly love. She used to dress me up, do my hair, and make me pose for pictures. I loved it. She was the reason I played volleyball, she was the reason I wanted to go to college, she's part of the reason I started to not get along with our parents.
My sister was raped when she was 16. Or around 16, I'm not exactly sure of the age. I found out a couple of years ago that when she finally told our parents, dad started crying and mom stared at her and then finally said, "it's your fault". (Classic Mom.) I don't know if the image issues came before or after. Maybe it was just a teenage girl thing and the assault exasperated things. Either way, she began working out considerably more than usual, wearing baggy clothes, hardly eating anything. Mom accused her of being anorexic, which, if she was, did not help matters. I don't really remember what other issues there were between the two of them. I think mom was both jealous and disappointed. My sister was very talented at the piano, but only at free play, playing a sheet of music was difficult and mom always made her play for church, which of course my sister hated. My sister was pretty, mom wasn't, sister started abandoning the church, she was "rebellious" and "blamed mom" for us being poor. Mom always had something nasty to say. Who knows what else. Needless to say, they didn't get along.
I remember not knowing what alcohol was, other than it wasn't allowed. I didn't know what it did to you. But I remember reading in my sisters journal that she got drunk the one rare time the parents went out of town. (I think that was the time I read she was raped but I didn't know what that meant either.) That was the one and only time I read my sisters journal. I remember it so well. It was just a bright red, college-ruled 120 page notebook. She kept it under the bed I think. I wasn't allowed to touch it, let alone read it. I never wanted to. But I remember her and mom fighting and she left and I thought somehow I could help if I knew what was going on, so I read it. I think I was 9. I must not have put it back in the same spot because she accused me of reading it. She still brings that up occasionally.
She went to one of the biggest party schools in the nation. Probably not the best thing for her. I remember visiting her when I was 14 for my Spring Break and her giving me alcohol. I remember her telling mom and dad that she had to take her roommate to the emergency room for alcohol poisoning but that could have been herself. Who knows. She was (and is) an alcoholic. And she got in an abusive relationship that lasted for years. I think that was the worst break up of the century, she was a mess for years. And then she met her husband who has been great for her. He truly is a nice guy and perfect for her. Supportive, strong, doesn't take shit, intelligent. I don't know how he puts up with her bullshit.
Our relationship evolved as I got older. But the mechanics stayed the same: she was the "older, wiser sister", and I was the "younger, inexperienced girl that needed taken care of". We were extremely close my first few years of college. She'd visit me in my dorm, I'd visit her when I could (she's on the other side of the state), we'd drink and have a good time, she liked that I was "fun" and now an "adult" (despite her treatment of me otherwise). I was an idiot and relied on her at a time I shouldn't have and I think that started the process of where we are now. We had a fight about two months before my wedding, she randomly texted me accusing me of reading and stealing her notebook. (Fourteen years later, still bringing it up.) And then the topic got on how I hate how she's always thought that she needed to protect me, and now was the time to stop, I didn't need it anymore. She apparently was very hurt (understandably), but she had her friend (who I've never met) send me a facebook message, chiding me. We've never talked about that, let alone resolved it.
Two years ago, a month after Husband and I got engaged, she came to visit. She, Husband, my best friend, his girlfriend, and I all went out for my best friends birthday. That night, I had to take her to the E.R. for alcohol poisoning. She was at a .38 bac. Point three eight. Point four oh usually means death. We were walking back to the apartment after the bars closed and she sat on the sidewalk and started bawling. I couldn't get her up. The entire time, she was talking about how she has a problem with alcohol and it scares her and that mom "really fucked her up and has no idea". We were there half an hour before the emergency responders came. They were not kind. A thirty year old really shouldn't be that drunk.
It wasn't until six months later that she finally decided that she should probably get some therapy. She approached it as, she has a problem, she'll get it fixed in six months max, and then she'll pop out a kid because she'll be fine. She was in therapy for a little over a year and now she's done.
I don't like my sister. As a person, I don't like her. I feel sorry for her, I support her in her recovery, but I disagree with most of what she's doing. And I feel guilty for it. I strongly disagree with her approach to therapy, that she has a simple problem that takes a simple solution. Maybe a few tools to deal with the down days, but other than that, just work through things, and be fine with it. I think that in her particular case, with the sexual abuse, issues with mom, her ex-boyfriend(s), she will never get away from that. She will always have to deal with it.
I think she's annoying as hell. I've hung out with her on her own, with her and her group of friends. They're the type of group that everyone tries to one up the other on witticisms. Constantly. And glorifying in being weird just for the sake of "being unique", when really it's all a ploy to get attention. They're attention whores and my sister is the worst. She has to be the funniest, she has to be the center, she has to have the best story. I hate it. Why can't she calm down, shut up, and have a normal conversation that doesn't center around her? She has all these little things she loves doing: points a finger at you and says "stop it!" in a childish voice, burps really loud, makes random noises at awkward points in the conversation. [Yes, I realize I sound phenomenally petty and mean. Let me finish.]
I don't like how she's approached/approaching having kids. She's always been terrified of the idea, because of mom. She doesn't want to turn out like her and I think her mind is on a loop and can't get past the idea that she won't if she puts an iota of effort into it. She would have panic attacks just thinking about it. But no, "Frank and I are going to start trying in three months. We're going to try in six months. We're going to start when my therapist thinks I'm ready. We're going to try when John and Kim start trying." Everything is based on some random, arbitrary point in her head. And meanwhile, she's still scared. She's scared of having a child with problems (Frank has a horrible family health history), she's scared of raising a child, and she's scared of losing her body to pregnancy and she's scared of putting someone else first. She recently said "the idea of having a kid doesn't terrify me like it used to. I don't know if I want to, but Frank does. And we should." ... What?! Great reasons to have a kid.
She still exercises way too much. She gets up at 3-4 in the morning to work out for an hour or two before she has to go to work and still goes to bed late at night. But God forbid she misses a work out day. In college, she gained about 50 pounds and she's terrified of doing that again. But she's obsessed with the number and there's no convincing her otherwise. She's has a muscular build. And she lifts weights. She loves and hates her muscles, she glories in them and she hates them because they make her look manly. But more than that, muscle weighs more than fat and she knows that, and yet she's still obsessed with the damn number on the scale. She can't be at her goal weight unless she starves herself. And she enjoys eating. She came over one time, made two giant cheesecakes, and dinner and in one sitting, ate dinner and an entire cheesecake, and fifteen minutes later, had to "take a shower" for an hour. I approached her one time about her exercising, she blew me off, said it wasn't a problem. I suggested she talk to her therapist about it. She got angry.
Oh! And her therapist hates the "modern idea" that alcoholism is a disease. And guess who just loves that idea?!
And just to throw in there because I'm ranting, she's bi-sexual (which is fine, I am too), but she has affairs with women in hotel rooms. But she's "safe" because she screens them, and Frank approves and it's all hunky-dory.
And this is going to sound the most disgusting of all. But I said I was going to be honest. She's jealous of me. [God I cringe when I write that.] But in her own words (I promise), I am skinnier, my body type is "better" (naturally slim, no muscle mass), I'm prettier, I have my shit together, I've dealt with my sexual abuse in a healthy way, I've dealt with mom and dad in a healthy way, I had the big giant perfect wedding, etc. It's difficult talking with someone who constantly is saying in a self-deprecating way "you're so much prettier than me. I love your lips. I love your teeth. You're growing up!"
I am over-critical, a liar, and non-supportive. She just finished therapy last week or the week before. She just had our dad over for a four day visit, that was the first time she had seen him for years. And I haven't talked to her and I don't really want to. I don't want to hear about her therapy because I don't think it's really helped all that much (even though she thinks it has). And it probably has in some ways. But since I disagree with what I've heard him say, I don't want to hear the rest of it. I don't want to hear about her goddamn work. Work consists of 90% of the conversations and I just don't give a damn about cars. I don't want to hear about her friends and how they're pregnant, because that'll lead to her saying that her and Frank are going to start trying this summer now that she's finished with therapy and their friends are pregnant. I don't want her to talk down to me. I don't particularly want a relationship with her. Eventually we're going to move to that side of the state and she's offended that we're going to live closer to his family and as far away from her as possible. I don't want to babysit her kid because I don't think I agree with her parenting style. I don't want to be taken advantage of.
I am a horrible person. I should be supportive. I should be loving. I should at the least be trying to work on our relationship. I should be doing a lot of things. But I'm not. I need space. I need to not be so angry with her. I need to get over myself. Because if I don't, she'll be able to tell that I don't respect her. And I don't want her to be hurt. She doesn't realize that ever since I read her notebook and found out what I did, it hasn't been her taking care of me. It's been me taking care of her.
See why I need this blog anonymous?
My sister was raped when she was 16. Or around 16, I'm not exactly sure of the age. I found out a couple of years ago that when she finally told our parents, dad started crying and mom stared at her and then finally said, "it's your fault". (Classic Mom.) I don't know if the image issues came before or after. Maybe it was just a teenage girl thing and the assault exasperated things. Either way, she began working out considerably more than usual, wearing baggy clothes, hardly eating anything. Mom accused her of being anorexic, which, if she was, did not help matters. I don't really remember what other issues there were between the two of them. I think mom was both jealous and disappointed. My sister was very talented at the piano, but only at free play, playing a sheet of music was difficult and mom always made her play for church, which of course my sister hated. My sister was pretty, mom wasn't, sister started abandoning the church, she was "rebellious" and "blamed mom" for us being poor. Mom always had something nasty to say. Who knows what else. Needless to say, they didn't get along.
I remember not knowing what alcohol was, other than it wasn't allowed. I didn't know what it did to you. But I remember reading in my sisters journal that she got drunk the one rare time the parents went out of town. (I think that was the time I read she was raped but I didn't know what that meant either.) That was the one and only time I read my sisters journal. I remember it so well. It was just a bright red, college-ruled 120 page notebook. She kept it under the bed I think. I wasn't allowed to touch it, let alone read it. I never wanted to. But I remember her and mom fighting and she left and I thought somehow I could help if I knew what was going on, so I read it. I think I was 9. I must not have put it back in the same spot because she accused me of reading it. She still brings that up occasionally.
She went to one of the biggest party schools in the nation. Probably not the best thing for her. I remember visiting her when I was 14 for my Spring Break and her giving me alcohol. I remember her telling mom and dad that she had to take her roommate to the emergency room for alcohol poisoning but that could have been herself. Who knows. She was (and is) an alcoholic. And she got in an abusive relationship that lasted for years. I think that was the worst break up of the century, she was a mess for years. And then she met her husband who has been great for her. He truly is a nice guy and perfect for her. Supportive, strong, doesn't take shit, intelligent. I don't know how he puts up with her bullshit.
Our relationship evolved as I got older. But the mechanics stayed the same: she was the "older, wiser sister", and I was the "younger, inexperienced girl that needed taken care of". We were extremely close my first few years of college. She'd visit me in my dorm, I'd visit her when I could (she's on the other side of the state), we'd drink and have a good time, she liked that I was "fun" and now an "adult" (despite her treatment of me otherwise). I was an idiot and relied on her at a time I shouldn't have and I think that started the process of where we are now. We had a fight about two months before my wedding, she randomly texted me accusing me of reading and stealing her notebook. (Fourteen years later, still bringing it up.) And then the topic got on how I hate how she's always thought that she needed to protect me, and now was the time to stop, I didn't need it anymore. She apparently was very hurt (understandably), but she had her friend (who I've never met) send me a facebook message, chiding me. We've never talked about that, let alone resolved it.
Two years ago, a month after Husband and I got engaged, she came to visit. She, Husband, my best friend, his girlfriend, and I all went out for my best friends birthday. That night, I had to take her to the E.R. for alcohol poisoning. She was at a .38 bac. Point three eight. Point four oh usually means death. We were walking back to the apartment after the bars closed and she sat on the sidewalk and started bawling. I couldn't get her up. The entire time, she was talking about how she has a problem with alcohol and it scares her and that mom "really fucked her up and has no idea". We were there half an hour before the emergency responders came. They were not kind. A thirty year old really shouldn't be that drunk.
It wasn't until six months later that she finally decided that she should probably get some therapy. She approached it as, she has a problem, she'll get it fixed in six months max, and then she'll pop out a kid because she'll be fine. She was in therapy for a little over a year and now she's done.
I don't like my sister. As a person, I don't like her. I feel sorry for her, I support her in her recovery, but I disagree with most of what she's doing. And I feel guilty for it. I strongly disagree with her approach to therapy, that she has a simple problem that takes a simple solution. Maybe a few tools to deal with the down days, but other than that, just work through things, and be fine with it. I think that in her particular case, with the sexual abuse, issues with mom, her ex-boyfriend(s), she will never get away from that. She will always have to deal with it.
I think she's annoying as hell. I've hung out with her on her own, with her and her group of friends. They're the type of group that everyone tries to one up the other on witticisms. Constantly. And glorifying in being weird just for the sake of "being unique", when really it's all a ploy to get attention. They're attention whores and my sister is the worst. She has to be the funniest, she has to be the center, she has to have the best story. I hate it. Why can't she calm down, shut up, and have a normal conversation that doesn't center around her? She has all these little things she loves doing: points a finger at you and says "stop it!" in a childish voice, burps really loud, makes random noises at awkward points in the conversation. [Yes, I realize I sound phenomenally petty and mean. Let me finish.]
I don't like how she's approached/approaching having kids. She's always been terrified of the idea, because of mom. She doesn't want to turn out like her and I think her mind is on a loop and can't get past the idea that she won't if she puts an iota of effort into it. She would have panic attacks just thinking about it. But no, "Frank and I are going to start trying in three months. We're going to try in six months. We're going to start when my therapist thinks I'm ready. We're going to try when John and Kim start trying." Everything is based on some random, arbitrary point in her head. And meanwhile, she's still scared. She's scared of having a child with problems (Frank has a horrible family health history), she's scared of raising a child, and she's scared of losing her body to pregnancy and she's scared of putting someone else first. She recently said "the idea of having a kid doesn't terrify me like it used to. I don't know if I want to, but Frank does. And we should." ... What?! Great reasons to have a kid.
She still exercises way too much. She gets up at 3-4 in the morning to work out for an hour or two before she has to go to work and still goes to bed late at night. But God forbid she misses a work out day. In college, she gained about 50 pounds and she's terrified of doing that again. But she's obsessed with the number and there's no convincing her otherwise. She's has a muscular build. And she lifts weights. She loves and hates her muscles, she glories in them and she hates them because they make her look manly. But more than that, muscle weighs more than fat and she knows that, and yet she's still obsessed with the damn number on the scale. She can't be at her goal weight unless she starves herself. And she enjoys eating. She came over one time, made two giant cheesecakes, and dinner and in one sitting, ate dinner and an entire cheesecake, and fifteen minutes later, had to "take a shower" for an hour. I approached her one time about her exercising, she blew me off, said it wasn't a problem. I suggested she talk to her therapist about it. She got angry.
Oh! And her therapist hates the "modern idea" that alcoholism is a disease. And guess who just loves that idea?!
And just to throw in there because I'm ranting, she's bi-sexual (which is fine, I am too), but she has affairs with women in hotel rooms. But she's "safe" because she screens them, and Frank approves and it's all hunky-dory.
And this is going to sound the most disgusting of all. But I said I was going to be honest. She's jealous of me. [God I cringe when I write that.] But in her own words (I promise), I am skinnier, my body type is "better" (naturally slim, no muscle mass), I'm prettier, I have my shit together, I've dealt with my sexual abuse in a healthy way, I've dealt with mom and dad in a healthy way, I had the big giant perfect wedding, etc. It's difficult talking with someone who constantly is saying in a self-deprecating way "you're so much prettier than me. I love your lips. I love your teeth. You're growing up!"
I am over-critical, a liar, and non-supportive. She just finished therapy last week or the week before. She just had our dad over for a four day visit, that was the first time she had seen him for years. And I haven't talked to her and I don't really want to. I don't want to hear about her therapy because I don't think it's really helped all that much (even though she thinks it has). And it probably has in some ways. But since I disagree with what I've heard him say, I don't want to hear the rest of it. I don't want to hear about her goddamn work. Work consists of 90% of the conversations and I just don't give a damn about cars. I don't want to hear about her friends and how they're pregnant, because that'll lead to her saying that her and Frank are going to start trying this summer now that she's finished with therapy and their friends are pregnant. I don't want her to talk down to me. I don't particularly want a relationship with her. Eventually we're going to move to that side of the state and she's offended that we're going to live closer to his family and as far away from her as possible. I don't want to babysit her kid because I don't think I agree with her parenting style. I don't want to be taken advantage of.
I am a horrible person. I should be supportive. I should be loving. I should at the least be trying to work on our relationship. I should be doing a lot of things. But I'm not. I need space. I need to not be so angry with her. I need to get over myself. Because if I don't, she'll be able to tell that I don't respect her. And I don't want her to be hurt. She doesn't realize that ever since I read her notebook and found out what I did, it hasn't been her taking care of me. It's been me taking care of her.
See why I need this blog anonymous?
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
newsworthy
I had a very exciting topic I was going to post about, I thought of it right before I fell asleep. Unfortunately, the only thing I could remember when I woke up was the title. Oh well.
We are bursting at the seams with fruit! Apples, kiwis, pineapple, strawberries, mango, yumo! If only I could get as excited about vegetables.
Oh! I remembered. We canceled our cable! Oh boy. We've been more or less addicted to the tv for no other reason than we're lazy and it's easy. So to save $80 a month (ouch) we canceled and will living off of each other and Sirius radio. Which is awesome I must say! They have all of my favorite things! French, NPR, 40's (although I do prefer the 30's), Comedy, Coffee House. It's awesome! And it's going to be perfect for our road trip!
Did I tell you we're going on a road trip? July 6-22. Start out here, drop the dogs off with his parents (unless we can convince his sister to watch them, doubtful), along the Oregon coast, Redwoods, San Fran, along the California coast, L.A., Joshua Tree, Flagstaff, Grand Canyon, Vegas, Death Valley, Kings Canyon, Yosemite, and back home. It's going to be intense, to say the least. And awesome! [that's up to two "awesome's", isn't it? Awesome.]
I really should take a shower, running makes me gross. So to sum up the past few days: fruit, working out, dogs, food poisoning, clean, and healthy! Yay!
We are bursting at the seams with fruit! Apples, kiwis, pineapple, strawberries, mango, yumo! If only I could get as excited about vegetables.
Oh! I remembered. We canceled our cable! Oh boy. We've been more or less addicted to the tv for no other reason than we're lazy and it's easy. So to save $80 a month (ouch) we canceled and will living off of each other and Sirius radio. Which is awesome I must say! They have all of my favorite things! French, NPR, 40's (although I do prefer the 30's), Comedy, Coffee House. It's awesome! And it's going to be perfect for our road trip!
Did I tell you we're going on a road trip? July 6-22. Start out here, drop the dogs off with his parents (unless we can convince his sister to watch them, doubtful), along the Oregon coast, Redwoods, San Fran, along the California coast, L.A., Joshua Tree, Flagstaff, Grand Canyon, Vegas, Death Valley, Kings Canyon, Yosemite, and back home. It's going to be intense, to say the least. And awesome! [that's up to two "awesome's", isn't it? Awesome.]
I really should take a shower, running makes me gross. So to sum up the past few days: fruit, working out, dogs, food poisoning, clean, and healthy! Yay!
Thursday, May 3, 2012
dinner
I made salmon, broccoli, and wild rice for dinner and The Husband almost puked. Twice. And it's mostly "my fault" because I put too large of a portion in front of him. Ugh.
I should back up. One of the many goals is to eat home/eat healthier. Years of fast food has taken its toll and I'm borderline high cholesterol. I'm 5'11 and 130 pounds, highish cholesterol should not be a problem! And The Husband is 5'7 and 210 so...yeah, we need to be healthier. I personally love salmon, it's fairly subtle, love the texture, and it's so good for you! So I threw some on the grill (Husband was worried that cooking it inside would make it smell too much) and he threw the biggest fit! *Wah wah I don't wanna!* It was about 50% amusing and 50% fucking annoying. So next time, I'll give him little bites of mine and get him accustomed. I should say, he's really not picky about what he eats. At all. So he'll get there. He liked the flavor (surprisingly), just not the texture.
In other news, I am exhausted so I'm going to bed. There is news, but I just don't have the energy to type it out. I probably will at one o'clock in the morning (I think it's been at least eight months since I've had a full night's sleep, it's goddamn annoying).
I should back up. One of the many goals is to eat home/eat healthier. Years of fast food has taken its toll and I'm borderline high cholesterol. I'm 5'11 and 130 pounds, highish cholesterol should not be a problem! And The Husband is 5'7 and 210 so...yeah, we need to be healthier. I personally love salmon, it's fairly subtle, love the texture, and it's so good for you! So I threw some on the grill (Husband was worried that cooking it inside would make it smell too much) and he threw the biggest fit! *Wah wah I don't wanna!* It was about 50% amusing and 50% fucking annoying. So next time, I'll give him little bites of mine and get him accustomed. I should say, he's really not picky about what he eats. At all. So he'll get there. He liked the flavor (surprisingly), just not the texture.
In other news, I am exhausted so I'm going to bed. There is news, but I just don't have the energy to type it out. I probably will at one o'clock in the morning (I think it's been at least eight months since I've had a full night's sleep, it's goddamn annoying).
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