Conversations of married people....

After eating at Subway:

Husband:  The only bad thing at this place is pulling out of here is a pain in the ass.

Wife:  Unless you're going left...  I mean right. 

H:  No, left.

W:  I said 'Unless you're going right.'

H:  I thought you said left.

W:  No, right.

H.  Oh UNLESS you're going right...  right.

W:  Correct.

H.  Right.   Yeah. 

And then we look at each other and smile.

Common Sense vs. Testosterone

Yesterday a fundamental difference between my husband and myself was made so very clear.

You, most of you anyway, probably don't know that Back to the Future is BIG in my house.  Like BIG, like if I had to compare something big in size to something else I would use the importance of Back to the Future to our household as the biggest thing ever. 

So you might imagine the movie being released on Blu-Ray yesterday with like an hour of special features was kind of a notable event.  Is it big to both of us?  Well let me put it this way...  before I met my husband, 7 and a half years ago, I'd seen none of the 3 movies all the way through and the 2nd one not at all.  Funny, because now the 2nd one is my favorite.  I've met Bob Gale, the writer and producer.  I've met Claudia Wells, the original Jennifer, I've met James Tolkien who played Mr. Strickland.  OH and we have a Delorean in our garage that my husband is converting into a movie car.  So yeah...  Back to the Future =  Big Effing Deal in the Hamlet's Mistress casa. 

I pick my husband up from work and he tells me we're going to Barnes & Noble because all over the interwebs NO ONE is able to find the Blu-Ray.  He tells me if Barnes & Noble doesn't have it then we're going to the mall to Suncoast.  If they don't have it we're going to Best Buy and then if they don't have it we're going to Target and if all else fails...  Wal-Mart, though he's certain they don't have it.   So I ask him why we don't just call.  He wants no parts of it.

While he is in Barnes & Noble not buying the Blu-Ray because they don't have it...  I'm 411-ing my tuchus off to find it so that we don't have to drive all over God's creation at rush hour to find it.  I call Suncoast...  Nope.   I call the Best Buy that's on the way home...  Nope, BUT their store that is about 15 minutes in the opposite direction from the way home has ONE.  They give me the number and I call there...  Nope.  Just sold.  JUST. SOLD.  So then I call Wal-Mart just on a whim.  My husband comes out of Barnes & Noble...  dejected... and gets in the car while I'm on hold for the electronics department.  Do they have it?  Yes.  Are they sure it's the Blu-Ray and not the regular DVD...  Yes.   Can they put one back for us....  Yes.  

So my husband would have had us out on the road for about an hour and a half while he went in and out of places getting madder and madder because HOW could these places not have gotten FULL SHIPMENTS!?!? whereas I, for $1.50 in 411 charges located it, secured it and then drove us to go buy it at a store 2 miles from home where  he was SURE they wouldn't have it. 

Potentially driving all over creation - $10 in gas

Listening to my husband rant and rave after each unsuccessful trip:  A small part of my soul.

Getting to save the day and be smug and see once again why women are the fairer and more sane sex:  $1.50

A happy husband:  Priceless.

There are some things in life money can't buy....  this?  Wasn't one of  'em.

30 Days of Truth - Day 3

Something you have to forgive yourself for.

This may be the easiest one and it's going to be short, sweet and to the point. 

I have to forgive myself for getting fat.  It's something that I can't seem to ever get over being mad at myself for.  Until I accept it and forgive myself for it, I don't feel like I will ever be successful in any attempt to lose weight.  I have to accept that the weight is here, that it's my fault that it's here and stop being pissed about it before I can make the positive changes necessary to fix it.

So yeah, at this rate I should finish my 30 days of truth somewhere around 2013.

Battle of the double X chromosomes...

This is a post that has been weighing on me for while now.  I am certain it's not going to come across eloquent or well crafted because what comes from my heart is seldom put together in a nice tidy round and polished package.

I am more into the whole blogging/tweeting/social networking thing now than I ever have been before.  I am reading more, being read more and getting to know other women out there in the interwebs more than I ever have before.  Because of this, I see more opinions, more arguments and more complete arrogance and more attitudes of superiority than I ever knew were out there.

I now firmly believe that this whole social networking thing is both equal parts blessing and curse.   A blessing, of course, because people who need support, help, comfort and a general feeling of being propped up at the darkest of times can find it just by turning on their computer.  And that???  That is awesome.  I know I have women out there that I have grown very fond of.  Some of them don't even know I exist.  Women like Maria, Becky, Anissa,  and Brittany among several others. There are also women that I'm actually getting to know and it's a two-way street rather than me admiring them from afar like the previously mentioned. Women like Stacey and of course, my dear Brooke.

That is the awesome part of this whole thing. Awesome. For real. The blessing.

There are times, though, that the awesome just seems to get drowned out by the voices shrieking out "YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!!!!" I find this so heart wrenching. There are battles being waged out there that I didn't even know about until I started to get more active and expanding out into the interwebs to actually see what people had to say. And you know what? Women are so critical of each other. Every woman knows, this, of course. However, it always used to be contained to your friends, your neighbors and your acquaintances... the ones that are outside the screen we sit in front of now. It seemed smaller. And friendlier. Two close friends having a conversation about their opinions and methods and perspectives was something to be cherished and was almost always done lovingly and with kindness.

Now, we women, we sit behind these screens and we put our fingers to the keys and feel... I don't know... self-important enough and qualified enough to judge how others live their lives, raise their children, cook their food and buy their groceries. And again the cries resound of "YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!!"

I am not a mother. I pray everyday that I will be one at some point. It is my most aching desire. I don't know if I ever will or if I even CAN for that matter. So it pains me when I see mothers going head to head. Criticizing each other for choices made in the best interest of one's own children. Breastfeed vs. Formula - Immunize vs. Non-immunize - Home school vs. Outside school - Public school vs. Private school - Spanking vs. Non-spanking... everywhere I turn the arguments are had and the criticisms are levied and it's not a loving conversation between friends anymore. The computer has made people downright vicious and mean with again the resounding criticism of "YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!"

I can't imagine that being a parent is easy. I don't believe any major decision of parenting to be simple. Parents make tough choices everyday about the kind of life, patterns and routines they are going to set up for the little ones they hold most dear and are passionate about protecting. These decisions cannot be made easier when there are a half million other mothers out there who disagree. I do understand that by having a blog and putting your life, your choices and your decisions out there that you risk criticism... almost invite it, even. But to just sit anonymously or even unanonymously behind a computer and spew venom and judgements and insults just doesn't make sense to me.

It goes beyond parenting, too. I'm fat. I hate being fat. I'm trying or at least wanting to try every day to not stay fat... but just like with the parenting, there are groups out there downright militant about fat acceptance and if you're one of the fat and want to be thinner for whatever reasons? If you dare to leave the group to do what feels right to you for your life? Those militant groups (and not all of them are militant, but they're out there) get angry and the cry rings out again... "YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!!"

I think everyone, in general, knows that it's good to buy local, buy organic and to bake instead of fry. I think everyone knows that it's good to be environmentally conscious and try to do as much as possible to preserve as much as possible. These options are not always possible and oftentimes very cost prohibitive. It's just the truth. I can't always shop at my local market for beef at 4.25 a pound when it's at the local Giant for 3.05. No, the cows are probably not grain fed, free-range, massaged and then lulled to sleep by an angel's harp before they are kindly and gently euthanized. But in a life where every paycheck is spent before it's even earned, not everyone can worry about that. Most people just have to do what they can to get the food on the table and into the bellies of their family so they can sit down at a dinner table together to discuss the day. Sometimes it's hard to hear, though over the constant droning in the background... "You're doing it wrong."

What is WITH us? At what point did it become ok to treat each other this way? And we wonder why some kids are bullies. When you hate on people making decisions that differ from yours and belittle and berate how can you then turn around and publish a post on tolerance and love? I don't understand why we feel the internet gives us the right to condemn anyone simply for decisions they make in their daily lives.

I want women to support each other, understand each other, agree to disagree on the choices in life and love each other because only we, as women, know what other women go through. A screen and a keyboard can give us the ability to do wonderful things for each other if we'd just stop tearing each other down. End the constant cries of "YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG." and just allow women to do the best they can. That's all we can ask of each other and it's all we can ask of ourselves. Doing it differently is not the same as doing it wrong. If your choice is different from mine, that's all it is. Different. Not wrong. Not better. Just different. If you want to converse about differing opinions, do it as if the person is right there... with you... at the breakfast nook having a cup of tea with you. Bring back the compassion, love and understanding. Those are the greatest natural traits we women have... USE THEM... always.

We need to encourage each other. We are all women. And we're all just... doing it... the best we can.

Suppressed memories...

I went through a pretty bleak time about a year after college ended.  Nothing made sense and getting through another day seemed like too big of a task to handle.  And sometimes?  I just didn't want to and considered just throwing in the towel more than once.    

You see...  there was this guy.  I met him at a summer job between my freshman and sophomore years of college.  He was my supervisor, but we were the same age.  The draw between the two of us was so strong it was ridiculous.  Everyone saw it.  WE saw it, but what were we to do?  He'd have lost his job.  It was NOT a summer job for him.  So I ended up dating some loser guy for a month or so always wanting and longing to be with the one I just KNEW was who I was supposed to be with.  He ended up dating some creepy girl who later wanted to beat the crap out of me.  And it went on like that for 3 long, insufferable, but wonderful months because through it all I still got to see him every day. 

The time came for me to head back to school and we were both distraught.  Odd, since we'd never spent one moment together as more than line supervisor and cashier, but the connection...  it had muscle.   He even cried when he said bye to me.  I was, of course, sobbing.  And then?  Two nights before I left to head back to school - only an hour away at that point since I was at a satellite campus and not at the main campus of PSU yet, the phone call came.   Could he stop by?   Um...  YES!!  

He showed up with a stuffed teddy bear and a single rose.  We stood on my front porch under the porch lights and he told me he told the creepy girl that it just wasn't going to work out and then told me that if I wanted to try to make a go of it....  we could try to make it work.  Oh my heck.   I don't know when I've ever been so happy.  It was a magical moment to be sure. 

So we spent that year with him visiting me up at school and me coming home almost every weekend and we worked it out.  It was wonderful.  Was it AS wonderful as I thought it would be?  In retrospect...  no, I guess not.  The teasing and the playful picking on me that he did, I thought, to just get my attention when we worked together continued once we were together.  And at times it took on a much sharper, much more critical edge....  but was always masterfully weaved into joking so I was none the wiser.  

He never would tell me he loved me without me saying it first.  Which Hello??  Could there be any bigger of a red flag ?  And on the rare occasion that he did it was always an "I love ya." never a "you".   After a year together...  it all did start to weigh on me.  The teasing, the inability to profess his love...  and though it killed me...  I ended it. 

We stayed in touch.  We bowled together during the summers.  I was on a league with him, his best friend and his dad.  So the summer between sophomore and junior years and junior and senior years I bowled with them.  The summer before my senior year we were both dating other people who both showed up at bowling from time to time...  how could they not, right?  We were bowling with our ex's once a week.   I'd have judged both his girlfriend and my boyfriend if they didn't show up unexpected from time to time.  But, oh, that summer was brutal.  When she would show up at the alley it was like a dagger to my heart.  And I made sure to be over the freaking moon when my guy showed up.  I mean all's fair in love and war, right?  I could see the hurt in my ex's eyes and I reveled in it all the while knowing the next time his girl showed up, I would be so in for it. 

Over Spring Break of my Senior year, he called me and asked me to have dinner and come bowling.  As neither of us were with our significant others anymore I agreed and we had a lovely fun evening with a lot of laughter.  At the end of the night he so wanted to say something.  I could tell.  There was just SOMETHING.  But whatever it was, he couldn't do it and we parted ways and I headed back to school for the final 6 weeks of my college career. 

I emailed him upon getting back to school and thanked him for the nice night.  I got a WHOPPER of an email back.  He told me that there had been so much he wanted to say to me during the night and it was the REASON he asked me to go out to begin with but the time never seemed right and when it was right he'd built up too much pressure on himself to do it and he got nervous and chickened out.   But that he loved me.  And that he always had and always would.  How he knew it hurt me so much when he never used to be able to say it, but that he'd grown up a lot in those 3 years and he was certain that he loved me.  He said he realized how much he took me for granted and how the things he said to me weren't funny or playful.... that most of the time they were just mean and he didn't know how he could have done that and not seen what it was doing to me.  And since school was almost over and I was coming home for good soon...  could I, did I think, consider giving him another chance. 

Oh, I tried to be standoffish.  I told him I'd think about it.  That he'd hurt me in so many ways.  But I already knew that I'd be out with him the first evening I was back home.  Which was close.  I got home to stay on May 13th, 2000.  Our first date was May 15th.    It was wonderful for a while.  Oh, don't get me wrong, I thought at the time that it was always wonderful.  I know now that it wasn't.  But for the first several months he was everything he said he was.  Mature, attentive, loving, considerate...  oh, he still teased me and joked...  but in the beginning it really was harmless.  Around the 5th month or so he started to fall back into his old ways, but I didn't even care or see it, I think.  I was head over heels and I knew he was the one. 

We talked about when we'd be married all the time.   And not just with me brining it up.  Him, too.   And then? The bomb dropped.  His mom, who was ill of health, made the decision that the family was moving to South Carolina.  The day he told me, I thought I'd die from crying.  But he held me and whispered to me that it'd be ok and we'd figure it out and find a way but that since he was out of work and there was a job waiting for him down there, he was indeed going.  From then on when I would get sad...  he would hug me and tell me it would be ok.  He had a plan.  And then he would lay out the plan for me every time I got upset.  He was going to get down there and start working.  When he got back on his feet he was going to find us an apartment.  Then he was going to come up here for a few months while we planned our wedding and got married and then we'd move me down there after the wedding.  He must have recited that plan to me at least a dozen times to the point where I was certain it would happen. 

And then May, 2001....  we said goodbye.  I wept as though my heart had been viciously torn into a thousand pieces...  and indeed it had been.  He looked in my eyes and told me the plan one more time.  Kissed me.  Hugged me fiercely and then sent me off.  And then?   I didn't hear from him again.  I know what you're thinking.  Tragic car accident wiped out the family on the way to South Carolina.   Sadly, no such luck.  They got there.  They're still there.  Except for his mom, who passed away a year after they moved down there, as she knew she would.  I think that was always the reason she wanted them to move, so that when she was gone they'd be near family.   So yeah, that was it.  He never called.  He never emailed.  He never...  meant any of it.  

To say I was devastated would be the understatement of the millennium.  I was destroyed.  A shell of a person.  I didn't eat.  I didn't sleep.  How I didn't get fired from my job I will never ever know.  I think they took pity on me with seeing my state of mind.  I spent a month waiting for him to call.  Then two.  Then three.  I remember nothing from that time except excruciating pain and laying facedown on my bed wailing while my mom would rub my back and cry with me because she couldn't help me and couldn't reach me.   Dying.  I thought about dying all the time.  And then I thought about finding him and killing him.  I'm certainly glad I didn't go through on either of those things.  All rational thought was gone.  To this day I only attribute my survival and his to my deeply rooted knowledge of right and wrong.  Had I grown up and lived in a world where those terms had more ambiguous definitions...  I don't know that either he or I would be alive today.  

Needless to say I came out of the dark.  I eventually made it through to the other side where hope and happiness seemed possible once again.  And, of course, they were.  To this day I'm grateful to the guy I had a short 3 month relationship with from October to January following the May departure of THE GUY.  That little relationship did wonders for me going forward in my life.  THAT fellow was sweet and complimentary and romantic and showed me what I deserved and helped me realize what I'd been through and what I'd ALMOST settled for.  He took the heartbreak that I'd been through and just through his actions showed me it wasn't a big loss and helped me see the sheer size of the bullet I'd dodged, through no action of my own. 

But...  I do have to say...  that although I only think upon those times every once in a very rare while, there is a song that can take me back to that place and to that time in a moment and drops me instantly to my metaphorical knees.  It was extremely popular right at the time the "love of my life" was getting ready to leave and every time it came on the radio, which was ALL THE TIME, reduced me to sobbing every time.  And now?  These days?   It will spring a tear or two to my eyes.   It immediately takes me back to that most painful time in my life and though I'm not still sad about what happened?  I'm sad for that girl.  The one wailing on her bed.  I wish I could tell her that I've seen the other side and that she does get there and that she's a better person for it.  I hear the song and I see that girl and a couple of the tears that were wept  in the hundreds of thousands all those years ago make it all the way to the here and now and cloud my vision for a moment or two until I blink them away.  I have a feeling this song will have me blinking away tears for years to come.

I think I've already lost you.   I think you're already gone.  I think I'm finally scared now.  You think I'm weak...  I think you're wrong.
I think you're already leaving.  Feels like your hand is on the door.  I thought this place was an empire.  Now I'm relaxed, I can't be sure.
And I think you're so mean.  I think we should try.  I think I could need this in my life and I think I'm scared  I think too much.  
I know it wrong but it's a problem I'm dealing if you're gone,  baby you need to come home.  There's an awful lot of breathing room, but I can hardly move.  If you're gone, baby you need to come home.     
There's a little bit of something me in everything in you.

The day before me...

It's 9am and I'm still in bed.  I have a myriad of things to do today and even though there's nothing large to be done, I think I'm overwhelmed.  I suppose first I ought to explain why I haven't been here in like, nigh on a week.   Nigh on...  you like that?   I love old phrases people don't say anymore like "per near".   I love whipping out "per near" when appropriate and seeing how people react.   At any rate, I wasn't here because I was sick and one of my cats was sick and then I was REALLY sick.  Except for some crap in my throat and no voice, I'm better now...  so is my cat.  All he needed was a remedy.  HA!  All I needed was a miracle, all I needed was you.   Ok.  Geez, enough with that.  I'm so all over the place.   So anyway everyone is better, though that terrible cold and allergic reaction to Claritan D (note to self, you CANNOT take Claritan D) per near killed me.  (Eh? Eh?). 

My husband left like a half hour ago for another photography job.  This one is all day.  He asked a bunch of times if I wanted to come and help, which hello?, of course not.  That's another Saturday with several hours to call my own and do with what I want.  So then last night when the Rangers clinched the ACLS I said to him "YAY!!  That means the Phillies will be a night game tomorrow and you'll see it!"   He said, "Yeah, maybe the last hour of it, the last game I shoot tomorrow starts at 8."   WHAT????  When he'd told me it was an all day assignment I figured it meant he'd leave at like when he did and get home around 5 or 6.  Um...  no.  ALL DAY and he'll be home around 9:30.  So then he was like "Now you see why I thought you might want to come?"  To which I followed with "And all that guy was going to pay me was FIFTY BUCKS????"  So glad I stood firm in not wanting to go because hooo boy, if I had agreed to go and then found out last night that it was like REALLY all day???  I'd have not been happy.   And $50 bucks?  Really?   The only downside???  I now have to watch the Phillies game all stressed out and on the edge of my seat alone!!!  I mean I'll have the dogs and the cats, but they're not really gonna care.   They're just going to get annoyed with my yelling (in my little half voice) hopefully I'll be yelling a lot of "YEAH!!!!!!" and not many expletives.

Anyway, I have stuff to do today.  Remember that froggie headed blanket I finished like months ago?  Well, I'm actually going to send it out today so this morning I need to weave in a couple ends and wash and dry it and get it to the shipping place.  OH!  I need to sew one of my tags on to it, too.   Hmmmmm.....   Before shipping it I need to buy a card and write some hugely profound and lovely thing for my best friend who will be a mom in 11 days...or less.  I actually broke down and just sobbed last night when I thought about it.  I mean I am so happy for her.  SO COMPLETELY HAPPY and so excited and am also so excited that I'm actually going to see the baby about a week after she's born.  I live in PA, my friend in TX.   And oh my gosh the whole thing is just so awesome and joyful and I know she's going to be a fantastic mom.  But in the darker recesses of me....  the parts I don't ever let show?  I'm broken-hearted.  Her having this baby and getting to do all this?  It is a glaring reminder to me that I'm not.  I'm not even close.  We live in a house with no room for a baby.  And it's not like we're unwilling to move stuff around so there's some space...  there just isn't space.   Anywhere.  Do you even KNOW what kind of obstacle having to buy a whole different house is to having a baby?  We don't have the money for that.  It seems completely insurmountable at this point and I'm not getting any younger.  I'll be 33 in May and I don't think I want to have a baby past 36.  So I just don't know.  In the corner of my soul where I put my deepest fears...  that's where not ever getting to be a mom resides.  So while I am over the moon for her I am despondent for me and the two extremes of emotion finally got me last night and I dissolved into a hiccupping, sniffling, weeping mess.  

Today I also want to clean.  You may remember I did this just a couple weeks ago when my husband had a different photo assignment.  Yeah, the problem?  He came home and continued living here and he doesn't care about how much time and care I take with doing something and now???  Instead of him helping me keep it tidy?? It's back to the way it was and possibly worse.   So yeah, I have THAT to do today, too. 

So, dear friends, I'm going to get my butt out of this bed and get moving.  I have things to do today and time waits for no one.  Time...  and the guy at the shipping store who closes at 2.  

Hamlet's Mistress

Day 2 - Something You Love About Yourself

Trying to figure out what to post here has been humbling and pretty eye-opening. I thought of one thing right away, but it didn't seem to be enough "about me" to qualify. So I decided to come up with something else. And. I. Couldn't. This strikes me as not a good thing at all. Needless to say, I've realized I need to start making some changes.

At any rate, I'm sticking with the thing I thought of immediately.

I LOVE that I know about sports.

I won't play coy or humble here either. I know my shit when it comes to sports. Philly sports in particular. I'm the same as most people in that I know players names and I know who's good. But then it comes down to the details - the hows and the whys and the but no, because's... and I know that stuff, too. I yell when I see my offense setting the quarterback up in a shotgun formation when we only need to get one more yard. I understand that walking a guy can be good if you know the next guy up to the plate grounds out all the time and it's likely you'll be able to turn a double play. I get that quarterbacks can suck even when the team wins games (YOU HEAR THAT REDSKINS??? YEAH, HE'S DONE!). I call balls and strikes before the umpire and when I start to yell about a bad call, inevitably the announcers right there with me. I'm a slow starter in hockey, but I'm getting there and I imagine by the end of this season I'll be up to snuff with that.

I enjoy it. I know the people who try to seem intellectual talk about sports using terms like "the dumbing down of America" and "who cares about sports when there's a spotted owl dying right. this. second" or "there is disease and sickness and (mythical) global warming going on... how can you even care about sports????). Don't get me wrong... I care about the spotted owl and am sympathetic to the people who think that humans have caused (mythical) global warming and how they're so torn up about it. I do. I honestly do. But to the dumbing down of America? I attribute that to many things other than sports. If you can get a kid engaged in a football game and they actually sit for 4 hours and watch it??? I think they'll turn out better than the kids that go from one video game to another constantly needing bright lights, loud noises and shiny things.

But really, what it comes down to for me is there's such a difference between watching a sporting event and being mentally involved in it. I love the... *gasp* intellectual side of the game.

Don't get me wrong... the winning and the hot guys are good, too. I'm looking at you, Jayson Werth and Brent Celek. Yum.

Maybe if we name it...

There's been something going on in my life that I've been completely reluctant to write about.  Not because it's personal or anything, but I'm just going to bite the bullet.  Our home has taken on another resident.  It's been here about a week and a half now.  They say no matter where you are you're no further than 6 feet away from a spider.  Well, when I'm on the couch in my usual spot I am about 5 feet, one thin pane of glass and one screen away from one heck of a big, creepy spider.  It is about the size of a half-dollar including legs and its body is roughly the size of a dime with a big, thick abdomen. 

This spider has caused much rending of cloth and gnashing of teeth on my end.  I open the blind and it like charges down its web at me causing me to squeal and shriek and get the shakes and do that little fast stamping of feet we women do when we're equal parts scared and grossed out. 

The only reason I have not written about this before is because I feel like if I give power to this thing, this bane of my existence by publicly declaring my fear it will find a way into my home at night and while I'm laying in bed will slow-motion crawl its way up my leg, Arachnophobia style, and kill me because I don't have a flaming nail gun like Jeff Daniels had to kill his would-be spider attacker.  *Note to self: Keep flaming nail gun within reach at all times."   The monster spider would then, of course, kill me.  And though not my most nightmarish way to die...  that would be being buried alive...  it would still be most unfortunate. 

My husband, of course, is Mr. Practical and is all, "Hey, it's killing stinkbugs...  it's providing a service."  And even though I now truly believe that if the apocalypse is tomorrow...  zombie or otherwise...  that stinkbugs are all that would survive.  Well stinkbugs and Florence Henderson, because looking that good at 76 obviously means that she's too fly to die.  That being said, I'd take stinkbugs over this spider any day of the week.  All one hundred billion of them.  So I was not swayed by my husband's rational logic. 

Today, however, I was feeling like I must learn to coexist with this terrifying beast which lead to the following conversation between me and my husband whilst I gazed upon the spider's gruesome visage. 

Me:  Maybe if I name it, it won't scare me so much. 

Mister:  Maybe, if that works.

Me:  Ok, Lucy.  Her name is Lucy.

Mister:  Sure.   Feel better?

Me: Not even close.

Mister:  Do you want me to kill her?

Me:  *horrified gasp* But she has a NAME!!!  

My husband shall be nominated for sainthood someday... I swear he will.

So without further ado:

[caption id="attachment_315" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="Internet, meet Lucy. I assume she'll be with us til Winter."][/caption]


So I'm going to go ahead and to this 30 Days of Truth thing that I saw here and here.

Basically here are the 30 topics:

Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

So I guess best to start at the beginning.

Day 1: Something I Hate About Myself

I hate my inability to follow through on pretty much anything.

I don't know what it is. I just stop doing whatever productive thing I'm doing at some point or another and then fail miserably at whatever it is I was trying to do. I fail simply because I stop. I'd probably be 75% more successful at life if I didn't quit stuff all the time. Sometimes I think it's fear of success... most of the time it's fear of failure and the rest of the time I know it's just plan laziness. So yeah, that. That is something, the main thing, that I hate about myself.


UPDATE!!   3/23/2011  - OMG  How funny is it that I didn't follow through with this 30 days of truth???  Now that's funny.   And?  A little sad.

Thirteen things I love about the Phillies...


2. Roy Oswalt

3. Cole Hamels

4. Carlos "Chooch" Ruiz - Especially Chooch.  I don't know what the hell you're sayin', baby.  But I love ya!!

5. Ryan Howard

6. Chase Utley

7. Jimmy Rollins

8. Placido Polanco

9. Jayson Werth

10. Shane Victorino

11. Raul Ibanez

12. Wilson Valdez

13. Charlie Manuel

Respect given = respect received.

I know this post is not going to appeal to a lot of my regular readers, but dammit, I'm irritated. 

I'm sick of how Philadelphia fans are viewed in relation to Donovan McNabb.  Especially a friend of mine who is a Redskins fan who is THRILLED at having McNabb and I guess he should be.  What was their record last year?  4 - 12 and placed 4th in the division...  out of...  four?  I guess Redskins fans WOULD be thrilled.   However, just because you're thrilled doesn't mean that the Philadelphia fans don't have some insight into the world that is, Donovan McNabb - Quarterback.   This friend of mine comes back at me with every valid point I make about McNabb.   Today I just wanted to ask him if he was a Yankees or Mets fan and he responded with "Neither, but I am a Redskins fan."  With a smiley face. (We hadn't spoken yet about Sunday's skirmish).   Oh, I might add that he thinks I'm under the illusion that the Eagles are going to make it to the post-season.  Yeah...  I'm a realist.  Don't belittle my sports knowledge.  Although looking around the NFL...  who knows... half the teams out there are 2 -2, so maybe there's a chance, but the fact is that I'm not some silly girl Eagles fan that thinks my team is going to win no matter what.  Hell, we don't even know who our quarterback is.  And no...  for what we want to do, we should NOT have kept Donovan McNabb. 

At any rate below, is my email response to my friend's one sentence email.   I'm sure it was more than he was expecting.  Oh and he's also one of these that is still harping on the Eagles fans booing Santa and cheering Michael Irvin's career ending injury.  Neither of those are true, but I'll save them for another day. 

So without further delay...  here is my reply.  And everyone out there who just doesn't get it???  Listen the hell up.  And if you're still a Philadelphia fan hater...  you can suck it.  With sauce and whiz. 

I know you are (a Redskins fan...  remember what I said his email said?).  I made the decision to not discuss the game with you because everything I would have to say, you would disagree with and I’ve been in your shoes.  I’ve seen the wins come that have very little to do with the prowess of the quarterback and I’ve, of course, seen the losses come that – more often than not – have everything to do with the prowess of the quarterback.  I’ve been there and defended McNabb and stood up for him and put on my grand armor of plausible deniability and gone to battle with those who would have bad-mouthed him.  And it lasted.  For a while.  It lasted about 2 years from 2005 – 2007 (the Superbowl broke me down and the Terrell Owens debacle finished off the job...  we could have won the next year if our "leader" had acted like a leader and not like a 4-year-old who wants all the attention)  and then I just couldn’t do it anymore.  So I know that talking with you about the new 'Skins quarterback is fruitless, because I’ve heard your arguments.  They sound a lot like mine used to.  And no one could have told me differently either.   So I’m not going to try.   Bottom line…  the guy is done.  Shanahan is terrified to let him throw the ball.   It couldn’t have been clearer of they’d said so in skywriting during the game.

Do you know what ELSE I saw that day?  Philadelphia fans being classy upon introduction of McNabb and welcoming back the best quarterback since Bednarik, to play for our city.   When he came out for his opening drive they booed.  But not at introduction.  In fact, I believe he got a standing ovation that lasted more than a couple minutes.   He would have enjoyed his time here a lot more had he taken two minutes to understand the fans here.  We’ve had other players take the time.  And to this day they love us.  Westbrook, Dawkins, Ike Reese, Hugh Douglas… they all bothered to get to know us and they love us.  He never bothered.  He never took the time.  He had a chip on his shoulder the whole time he was here.  He wasn’t booed at the draft ELEVEN YEARS AGO…  the CHOICE was.  People wanted Ricky Williams.  That’s who it seemed like they were taking, that’s who we’d all been lead to believe they were taking.  People were EXCITED about it and a big group of Ricky Williams fans went up to the draft and when they announced that it was Donovan that crew was shocked and dismayed and they booed.  They booed the CHOICE, not the MAN.  And that’s something he never bothered to understand and he kept his panties in a bunch over it for the entire 11 years.   We didn’t like him because he didn’t even pretend to like us.   Not because he couldn’t play.  That’s only been the reason the last few years.  We wanted to love him.  He did great things while he was here.  No one denies that.  But he didn't care about us.  He didn't respect us.  And therefore... the feeling was mutual. 

Hamlet's Mistress