I'm back!

I am back from vacation. And guess what?? It was TOTALLY AWESOME! I just hope I don't have to wait another 6 years until I get another one. Hubbs, D, and B went to Emerald Isle. It was fantastic! I was spectacular! I was really freakin' hot! We went to the beach, laid out, got tan, and walked five hundred miles in the process. Hubbs' grandparents own a beach house so we got to stay fo' free fo' the week. Which in and of itself is just by gawd fabulous! We took Pookie and even he had a blast. Honestly, the pup has only been swimming once and when we took him to the sound for a bit of splashing around, he was a riot.



We played putt-putt twice, and I'm proud to say that my husband the "Putt-Putt Prodigy" won both times. D joked that he had the home court advantage. I mean, honestly? The kid never loses. It's almost sickening to watch him putt so effortlessly. I, on the other hand, am skilled at the short shots. The long (and by long I mean from the start of the tee off spot to the hole) distances, not so much. Also? I got a hole in one ONCE! So eat that!



The highlight of our week in paradise was renting jet skis for D's birthday. It's like riding a 4-wheeler with no wheels. It's alot lower to the water than I expected and I'm not exaggerating when I say that I thoroughly freaked out when we got on them. I actually begged the dock guy to promptly swim in and save me if it even looked like I was gonna drown. Me and water? Are not friends. I swim like a rock. Sure, I can keep myself afloat and do a retarded doggy paddle, but that's it. In a nutshell, I could possibly keep myself from drowning, but I don't want to risk it. Lucky for me, Hubbs was driving and kept looking back at me to make sure I hadn't passed out and fell off the back of the thing. We rented them for an hour and after the first 30 minutes I started to relax and enjoy myself. It was great fun.



We went to the end of the island one day, where the ocean and sound meet, and discovered a sort of moat oasis in the sand. Houses line this stretch of water and there were sand bags practically holding up their porches and decks. Right where the sand bags began was a stretch of water on the sand, like a lazy river. I'm not a fan of the ocean. I'll get out there and get wet, but I'm like SO scared of being pulled under. Note my lack of swimming skills. But when we found this little treasure I was in heaven. It was shallow and also deep, so Hubbs and I swam the length of it a couple of times. We stayed out there for almost 5 hours! It was awesome!



Along with my lack of swimming skills, I possess impatience for laying out. I get bored really easy. I hate, hate, hate being out there in the hot sun and I fear the ocean, so I usually bring a book to read. That in turn, gets me picked on. Fat girls don't like to sweat. And? This fat girl is not going to drown if she can help it. So my beach/sun was limited to about 3 hour incriments until we found our sand oasis. Also? I have no stamina in the heat.



We got up early one morning and went back to the end of the island to collect shells before the day's beach-goers could snatch them up. I found 3/4 of a sand dollar and lots of pieces of sand dollars. And wouldn't you know it, Hubbs found the prettiest shells. The sad part was, the sand oasis had been mostly washed away with the tide. Sigh. Maybe next year when we take vacation it will be back.



Oh yeah! One of the funniest, best and proudest parts of our vacation was..... That I actually bought and wore a bikini. Yep. This fat girl broke down and felt good enough about herself to actually parade half-naked in public. Was my big ol' buddah belly hangin' out? YES. Were my stretch marks showing? Yes. Did Hubbs like my water outfit? Yes. Did I finally feel good enough to wear one for the first time in almost 4 years? YES! However, I would like to issue an apology to the beach-goers! HAHAHA! The best part was seeing women bigger than myself in bikini's too! You GO GIRLS! I say to hell with it. I was on vacation. I've got the tan lines to prove it!

Don't forget to duck!!

Flashback: When I was living at home way back when, I remember when my parents would argue. I vowed that when I got married I would try my hardest not to argue with my spouse. My parents could be eating supper and an argument would break out and Padre would just get so disgusted that he would dump his plate, food and all, in the trash can. Then he would go to the living room and settle in his recliner and watch tv. I remember Ma Dukes cringing and willing herself not to cry while making sure that she and I finished our food as quietly as possible. Hopefully, after a while one or the other would apologize and all would be right with the world once again. I hated those dinners. The shouting, the snarling expressions on their faces, the heated discussion and the "who knows what's gonna happen next." Years later, I read an article that suggested that people shouldn't talk about argument-provoking items at the dinner table because it hendered the digestion process and had the ability to cause heartburn.

Flashforward: I guess this is why I take 2 Nexiums a day, heh. Last night Hubbs and I had a "heated discussion" (read:fight) at the dinner table. I admit that I was a little irritated before we sat down to eat. I like to cook. I like to cook uninterrupted. I like to cook alone. I wanted to make Hubbs a nice meal and was doing a damn fine job when he walked in the door and tried to "help." I don't know what happened. I just, like, didn't want him to help me. I got supper into the oven and cleaned up the mess and distributed the mail. Then when it was done, I was more than curt to him as we fixed our plates. Then we sat down. He made a snide comment about my attitude.. "pissy" and I like, lost it. We fired back and forth at each other and he got up and put his empty plate in the sink and stalked off to the living room. Me, trying to finish eating, just let my short fuse blow. I picked up my plate and hurled it into the sink, food and all, on top of all the other dishes, grabbed my Marlboro lights and slammed the garage door on my way out of the kitchen. What is wrong with me?? I was beyond irate. How dare he insult my attitude!? Of course there is more to it than my attitude. There are other underlying issues that played a hand in this dish-hurling frenzy, but I'm not going to air my dirty laundry here. After chain smoking 2 cigarettes and deciding it really wasn't worth the headache I was about to incur, I went back inside. I cleaned up the dishes. I made a plate for the next days lunch. I finished the laundry. I gave Pookie a bath. Then, I took time for me. I took a nice looonnngg shower. Read some of my current book, The Friday Night Knitting Club, and took my fabulously refreshed self to bed. Last night I was angry and like my mom, I willed myself not to cry. This morning I shared the events with my Padre cause we're close like that. He offered some suggestions. He was a bit shocked when I told him, "I pulled a Padre last night at dinner." I guess he thought his actions wouldn't have rubbed off on me. (Y'all, I swear I was so mad last night I could have broke every.dish.in.the.house. and it wouldn't have fazed me.) After he left my office (we work at the same company) the tears just started rollin'. Why do the small things irritate me so? Why couldn't I just be happy that he wanted to help me make a meal? Why do I let my anger build up so much and then unleash my wrath all at one time?

I went to Target on my lunch break because, you know, retail therapy cures EVERYTHING. And I bought a fabulous bathing suit and pair of shorts. On my way over, I called Hubbs. (Can I just say that sometimes, I get tired of apologizing. I just want to call a truce sometimes.) He was home so the garage door guy could fix the garage doors. I just called to tell him I loved him. Non-pissy. Non-apologetic. Purely genuine. Because I do. Love him. He makes me madder than a wet sitting hen, but I wouldn't trade him for nothin'. I know what life is like without him, and being with him (fighting and throwing plates, and all) is soo much better.





**Thanks to all who wished me a happy birthday!

My Obession with The Notebook

My "obsession" with Nicholas Sparks' "The Notebook" began about 6 years ago. Hubbs and I were "dating," and I was reading the book the summer we met. I can't even begin to describe the range of emotions I went through upon finishing that glorious novel. I remember sitting in Hubbs' living room crying for everything I was worth. And I didn't even care that he was watching me in awe. I was bold for making myself so vulnerable. I just sat and cried. He, never uttering a word, waited patiently for me to regain my composure and just held me in his arms. We were 20 years old. Flash forward about two years. I will spare you the details that encompasses those years, as they are filled with heartache and joy and I have just finished reading NS's "The Choice." I have already cried quietly to myself, like I do after reading every novel of his, and recounting those memories will only drudge up even more tears. So many that I might short out the keyboard. So, another day I will regale you with the story of us. Ahem. Like I was saying, flash forward two years and the movie, "The Notebook," came out. I was engaged to someone new, who was quite a bit older. I professed many times that I HAD to see this movie. Sitting at a bar in my college town, I told X the story of The Notebook. As he sat there on a bar stool sipping his beer, he didn't get it. He just didn't get it. In the time it took me to explain it to him, he'd already dismissed it. Written it off as just another chick flick. I can still picture us sitting there in that bar surrounded by college kids, noisy and loud, me explaining and he with that look on his face. You know. The one that says, you silly girl. Flash forward about 3 months later. This movie would not leave me alone. It was almost as if I was drawn to it. By then, it was on DVD and I had dumped X. Hubbs resumed his rightful place beside me, as we professed our love for each other. We went right out to Blockbuster and rented it. Came home snuggled on the couch, settling in to watch it. As soon as it was over, I bawled like a baby (still do), and just like that night in his living room he wrapped his arms around me and waited patiently for me regain my thoughts. He was my Noah. I was his Allie. It was then that I revealed to him that that summer in his living room when he held me at my most vulnerable moment, I was reading that same book. And you know what? He got it. He understood. I knew then that he was it. And really, it wasn't that he got some movie. He got me. He got that I knew things happen for a reason. I made him a believer that night. That novel, that movie brought us together and took us apart. And in the end, brought us back together again. For my birthday that year, my parents bought me my own copy of the movie, quite possibly the best present ever. Since then, I can't even tell you how many times I have watched this move. Our movie. Every time I watch it I cry. For the longest time I wouldn't watch it with anyone other than Hubbs and only Hubbs. I didn't want to ruin it. Every so often (2 or 3 months), we make time to sit down and watch our movie. No one else. Just us. It gets better every time we watch it.

Moving!

The thing I hate most about moving is.. Moving! Most of our stuff is already packed up in storage, but we still have to pack up our bedroom crap at the mother-in-law's house. This task will, of course, be left up to me. And that's fine. At least I don't have to pack up.. THE WHOLE HOUSE, like I did the last time. So, you see, it's not quite so bad. Me, being the procrastinator that I am, is trying to get a head-start on this thing before the night before we move. Because? That would be so typical of myself, and I'm trying to make some changes, yo. So, yes indeedy, we are flyin' the coop. Moving into a 3 bedroom, 1 1/2 bath home with a two car garage, a wood burning fire place, a DISHWASHER (WOO HOO), deck and nice backyard. This means that we have ample space all to OURSELVES where no one will steal our food or liquor, use our bath products or toilet paper, and I'll go back to only cleaning up after me, Hubbs, and Pookie. Ahhh.. yes. Life is good. For you nice readers, here is a list of things I look forward to in the coming weeks. Enjoy!

• Being able to buy food without having to come home and "assess the damage" of what has been eaten/stolen from the pantry by worthless brother-in-law and his druggie friends.
• Being able to dry clothes in the dryer without worrying if WBIL has stolen our brand-new towels or half-assed let them dry, only to throw them on MIL's bed still wet. That means they have to be washed. Again.
• Not worrying that WBIL is using our shampoo/bodywash/toothpaste/razor(I know!). And not having to take EVERYTHING out of the bathroom EVERY morning after pre-work showers.
• Not having to hoarde food in our room like chipmunks, for fear that WBIL will eat every morsel.
• Not having to pick up after 4 adult humans and one to three canines (depending on the day).
• Not being MIL's hand-maiden.
• Being able to walk around in my underwear, if I so choose.
• Being close to Ma Dukes.
• Getting my husband out of the nasty environment that is labeled "Family". Mainly, his.
• Having our own place!
• Doing exactly what we want!!

To My Wonderful Husband on His Birthday

Today is your birthday! The big 2-5! We are knockin' on 30's door, yes we are! HAHAHA! But seriously, on a more lighter note.. I just wanted you to know that I love you sooo much. You are by far the best thing that has ever happened in my life. We are so lucky to have found each other not once, but twice. After laying eyes on you the very first time I knew you were the one for me. Even after we sort of lost each other and I had to tell my heart, as well as my head, that it was truly over, I never stopped believing. And although I lied to myself, I never stopped loving either. I think what we have is very special. You are my partner and my best friend. You are my first and only true love. You are my biggest fan and my greatest challenge. I don't have to be your whole life; just your favorite part. You make me strong and yet you are my biggest weakness. I love the person I have become, because of you. I love every part of you and all your little quirks that sometimes drive me crazy. I wouldn't change a thing about you, except that I wish I had met you sooner. You have made my life complete in so many ways. Even though we may get on each other's nerves and get the best of each other once in a while, I am so proud to call you my husband, and even more honored that you call me your wife. We said it wouldn't be easy, but it's been one hell of a ride so far. I look forward to spending the rest of my days with you. I hope you have a wonderful birthday!! I love you!

SO Totally Random

Can I just say that I Hate! going to the post office for anything other than to check my box? Yesterday, I took off work early to go pick up a certified letter. I rushed to get there and surprise, surprise, everybody and their brother was in line for something or another. Here's a pop-quiz for ya: Which of the following made me more annoyed by the minute? Was it the lady in line talking so loud on her cell phone that people from 3 counties away could hear her? Was it the lady in front of me who was engaged in cooing and baby talk to an infant in front of her ("She's so CUTESY WOOSTY YES SHE IS!".. *gag*)? Or, was it the fact that none of the postal workers were in a great hurry? If you answered "D", all of the above, then you'd be correct!

For all parties concerned (thanks!), I still have not gone to the doctor yet. It's just been a small matter of this tiny thing called insurance, of which I don't have any at this time. And actually, I think I just may be a hypochondriac, because I have not experienced any symptoms as of late. Also? I don't need to go pay a copay of $30 to hear my doctor say, "Here, I wrote it down for you. Go look it up on WebMd.", which she so totally does! It's like, "Here's what's ailin' ya, go do your own research 'cause you're obviously not satisfied with the answer I've given ya, and at least if I write it down you'll search it correctly instead of callin' back tomorrow." She's SOO right! So as soon as I get me some of that there new fangled insurance, I'll be happily on my way to get a few things checked out. Namely, my ears. I get MEGA sinus headaches when the weather starts getting funky (hot to cold, cold to hot) and my ears, they be hurtin'. I feel like they're stopped up and just plain achy. Now, I will admit, I am a complete 'shwa (as in Poo-shwa, code for a not so nice word of a lady's anatomy, and being from the south, honey I just don't use that word along with the C-bomb) when it comes to my ears. If my ears hurt enough for me to lose sleep, guess what? You're gonna lose sleep too, because I'm gonna be all whiny and cryin' if it comes to that. And guess what else? Someone {*cough* Hubbs} is gonna have to rub my hair until I go to sleep, if you ever intend on sleeping, that is. And also, I accidently on purpose stuck a bobby pin in my right ear when I was in college to get some wax out and to scratch the inside of my ear, and that caused me to rupture my ear drum, which hurt like a real mutha. I incurred a slight loss of hearing due to that incident. Oh, but I have so many intelligent stories I could tell...

Second order of doctor business is to get my yearly physical out of the way. Because, really? Unless you're Hubbs, I don't really want you down there. And also, when you are down there, it makes me really uncomfortable when you try to strike up a conversation. That is not a time in which you need to talk to me. Plus, I need some birth control pills. I have not been on birth control in almost 4 years, and next year we're planning on tryin' for a little one. Sounds kinda dumb, huh? Well, unless my monthly friend improves dramatically, I'm gonna be all about the pill.

So, now all that doctor business is all wrapped up, on to more amusing things. Namely, my Hubbs. I'll leave you with some of his most hilarious quips!

*Don't trust anything that bleeds for 7 days and lives. (passed on by his alcoholic father)
*I'm gonna get you a bumper sticker that says "My other car is a broom"
*Look at the shitter on that critter.
*I am a sexy beast. I am Man-tastic.
*(His explanation for when he's sick, my husband the mechanic says..) "Man, I was up all night. I think I blew a rear main seal.

Bless his little heart, y'all. No wonder I married him.