Shoes

I wear big shoes. I don't mean that figuratively, as I am pretty much a very, very average person. But I have huge feet - a women's size 12 - which, in reality, doesn't exist much.


Yes, I can order shoes online. Yes, I can find the random pair of shoes. Yes, I can go to Payless and try on the six types of really ugly, huge, fake-leather mules and slippers that are too wide and - did I say ugly? Yes, I have options. But it sucks.


I know, it's great that I even have feet, but uhm, SORRY. I feel sorry for myself when I go to a department store and they don't carry my size in ANY style, other than men's shoes. Last I looked, regular men don't wear black pumps. I am disgustingly jealous of women who "shoe shop." Ain't gonna happen in my lifetime, and I guess that I am angrily fucking OK with it. Or not. Pisses me off. I suppose I know how some people, most people, feel about clothes and bras and shirts and hats..... Like I said, I am average. And shit don't fit.

When Amy was dying, I had horrible guilt. And as I went back to look for my posts about her, I couldn't find them. Guess they were on my last site that I deleted out of anger. Hmmm. Wonder if I am angry.... Hold on. Nope, my posts or copies of them are on my laptop which my husband has ganked.

Here's the nutshell:

The one woman in my life, ever, that I admired and was privilaged to relate to and be related to.... Died after a horrible year-long battle (slaughter) with cancer. She was 34, diagnosed and 35 when she died. Fuckin SUCKED. And I was pregnant with the twins when she was dying. Happy. Sad. Miserable. Glad.

Alright, well, that being said, when she was sick and going through treatment, dying.... I was pregnant and going through life, living. But my in-law family (husband's side) was in the volcano.... Getting hurt and burned and tired with Amy's everything: sickness, medication, treatments, seizures.... And I wanted nothing more than to be there, to be helpful and loving.... To bear some burden. To tell Amy how much I loved her.

But it wasn't like that. We were a tad too far away to be able to drive back and forth (600 miles) and I was supposed to be on bed rest. I went down there as much as I could.

Toward the end, I felt a lot of apprehension from the in-law's. And it wasn't something that they wanted to feel, but it was there -- an angry resentment for the fact that I am experiencing a two-degree burn with salve (the ability to leave) and their experience (completely burnt to a crisp, nothing left. Nothing). I had a reason to leave, and legitimate, but it still was very resentful.

I will be honest when I tell you that I was relieved numerous times to have had to go home. Amy couldn't remember and was deteriorating quickly. I couldn't wait to get out of there, especially when she would have a cognitive moment and stare into my eyes, pleading with me to do something. ANYTHING. She knew she was dying and would freak out, as anyone would, over this fact. I decided at this point that when it were my time, I wanted to get nailed and die immediately. I just don't wanna know. But she DID know and would beg me to help her. And I couldn't.

There was guilt. Lots. For missing her and for leaving. For wanting to help but for also feeling relieved when I didn't have to.

Well, here's the other shoe.

My sister-in-law, who was Amy's main care giver, was there from day 1 until day -1, and is in a spot where her mother has been diagnosed with Stage IIIB breast cancer. The mom is in Dallas, she in Fort Lauderdale. My Sister is used to caring, but can only do that from afar.

She texted me today to call her and I did. She very tearfully told me about her mother, of whom she is very close, and admires.... And that she has Stage IIIB breast cancer. And she's far away and feeling horrible. And that I was the only one who could understand what shoes she was getting ready to wear.

Ugh.

While I never want to feel the inside of the volcano, the outside is a slow burn. and just as damaging. And this woman, who has survived the middle of the volcano, has to watch again, from afar as her favorite people melt in the vat.... Knowing that they can survive it, but seeing the beginning line of a race that they are about to experience.... And knowing too well what to expect.

She asked me about my starting line and my finish line. And I told her.

See, I haven't nursed someone to death. But I have seen much more death than average, and I suppose that puts me above the average line. She has seen some real savage carnage with one close person, albeit slowly through disease, but I think that's worse.... Amy said that she felt glad to be able to say good-bye, but in the end? It was nothing like she wanted. Though semi-tried....

My point.... *sigh*

So my sis-in-law is about to put on my shoes. And I wish they didn't fit. I have crossed the finish line that she has yet to see, and I don't want to see her go down this road -- because, seriously? IT SUCKED. Did she judge me from the center of the volcano? Yup. And I am not comforted by this, but the slow burn can take the same toll.

Many people I know are dealing with the various aspects of hating 'shoe size' (pregnancy, life, and such) but, yeah, OK, I have feet.... It's tough. And it's really just life.

I miss you, Amy.

And... I have a lot of URRRRGGGH.

One of my twins grrrrs like me and reminds me Every.Single.Time I URRRGH
I don't hate it.

Yeah, good point....

I knew this guy when I was stationed in Germany.

Aaron Kenefick and I weren't friends or anything like that. In fact, I found him very disciplined to a fault, too serious. My husband pointed out that that's what makes a good Marine, so yeah.... I just remember trying to joke with him and he wouldn't have anything to do with me. But that's ok. RIP. Thank you for your service and sacrifice. My prayers are with your family.
Say "Hey" to my sister who has been dead for two years yesterday....

My boys are scheduled for their first haircuts tomorrow. I am scared to see what they will look like with big boy hair. And I am really bummed at how big and how fast they have grown into little people; they're not babies at all. Trimming the hair is recognizing this, and I don't like it. All of a sudden, I understand why some people grow their boy's hair too long, or even breast feed for more than six months. Well, maybe not the breast feed part. When the kid is old enough to ASK for the boob, it's time to put your bra back on. Seriously.

And yeah, what's the deal there, Boss? You can spend the time to go on Letterman, take a nice trip to Denmark to plug the Windy City.... But taking 25 minutes to speak to your Boots on the Ground, after YOU request him to fly from London to Copenhagen? Just wow. I have no opinion on this. *Long blink*

Yes, I miss you.

Anyone who thinks that this job of being in charge is easy? Firstly, you will never please everyone. The old cliche: You can give someone a bar of gold and they'll complain that it's too heavy.... Well, I'm not saying anything about the current guy, but I'll just say this about Bush - he was no dummy and he was tough. I would rather have a No Shit guy than a We're an Arrogant Country guy. Or a We're Gonna Kick Your Ass guy versus the Let's Go Ahead And Get Rid Of Our Weapons guy. But I really don't have much of an opinion about it. Really.

And I would prefer the serious guy, the too serious guy, to be in combat, protecting my fat ass.

Things are going well, though. I just finished the fiscal year blowout. I don't know how much I spent, and am a little frightened to see the actual numbers. But you know it's bad when you're trying to buy a battery storage/recharge facility for $133,000 and the customer doesn't care if you get it or not.... Here's a novel idea: Give the money back. Yeah, I know, I know. If you don't spend it, you'll lose the money the following year. But it's $133,000 that YOU DON'T NEED!!! Holy crap! Am I stupid? Let's just think about.... You had enough money, plenty'o'cash, to survive the year and you're wasting $133,000 just in case. I'm having a tough time with that logic. But, hey, I bought it. You can get another one in twelve months. Hopefully I won't be working in that same section so I don't have to deal with it.

Not Sure

I've kinda lost my 'want' to post. I don't know if it's because I now personally know the 2.5 readers that I had before, or if I just don't want to share my fucked up thoughts, or expose the fact that, OHMYGOSH, my husband and I were having issues.... Or that I was having issues.... But I've always had issues and that's why I posted before. But now? Not so much.


Firstly, I hate Obama. Like capital "H" hate. He's fucking everything and it's only been eight months? Holy crap. I can't even comment. I'm not supposed to comment. I work for him. So forget that I said anything at all.


My twins will be two in one week. WOW. The time flies and I am trippin about it. I have been in my 'new' job for a year and married for nine. My big girls are almost 15 and 13. I haven't seen them in five years. I have a lot of joy and a ton of pain. I don't know how to lose my anger.


I have so much baggage, I probably need to pay myself for an extra carry-on!


I am so relieved and hopeful for Sarah. I felt it was my own fault that she was having problems conceiving and carrying....


What do I want to say?


I was invited to a party last week. I didn't go. I am so distrustful of people and I just want to stay home. I use my twins as an excuse for not going out, when in truth, I just don't want to socialize. I am not depressed, I just don't want to have friends. I get so frustrated because I would never do to 'my friends' what they have done to me.... My best friend tried to, I don't know, tried to be a better friend to my husband than me? She didn't try to sleep with him, though I will never know for sure, but tried to have a close relationship with him mentally? To be BFF? Have lingo and ties special to her.... Should I be so bitter?


Another friend of mine, with whom I have been friends with for over 17 years.... Wrote my husband over facebook that she had lost my number (again) and she was worried about me and wanted to get in touch with me.... But "don't tell her that I talked to you." WHAT? Uhm, seriously? You know that I am having trust issues with my husband, but you want to have a sneaky conversation with my husband? How am I not supposed to take that personally? I don't know, maybe it's just ME.


It's all ME. I'm the fucked-up one. But that's ok.

On a completely separate note -- No, I don't think I can dance. And if you need to have a fund-raiser? Penny Wars. I had serious doubts and thought, "Pshaa. Pennies schmennies." Hello! $866+? Holy crap! I have to give it to my new boss - awesome idea! Thank you. For the years that I have been doing fund-raisers.... We always thought that $200 profit was fantastic, but this one..... Just WOW.

And, shhh, don't tell - I miss my friends. But I have my husband back, and it's worth it more than anyone.

Boys are boys, period. When my not-so-little ones poop, and I go, "Awww! POOPIE STINKS! PHEEEW!" (and make a face and noise) They giggle and laugh like they just did something hilarious and phenomenal.

Like I said before -- I'm still here....

Catch up to the Sun

The moon is so bright tonight that it could be morning. The frogs are so loud it could be birds at daylight, too. It's weird!

So the other night me and the Bug (she's 8) were watching the "All-New Newlywed Game." The question was to the husbands: "How many rooms in the house have you made whoopee in?"
The bug says, "I know that Daddy's made whoopee in every room of the house."
I go, "What??? How do you know?"
And she goes, giggling, "He's farted in every room! Daddy's gassy!"

I lost it.

The twins will be two in mid-Sept. Holy crap. I've missed the starting gun.

Things are getting better. I have a better grasp (as of today-ish) of my job. My husband and I are banging out the differences, not literally. We are both making attempts to be nicer to each other - harder for me than for him, and why, exactly, I don't know.

So, very hopefully, fingers and toes crossed, we are getting through the dark and heading to the light.... "Run for the light, Carole Ann! Run to the Light!"

And that's all I have to say about that.

I am....

Still here.

I just read someone's blog that was so sad and he remarked something along the lines that people usually only blog about happy times. I guess that's why I am not blogging -- things are a little rough. But I complain so often that by the time I get to *really* vent, I don't want to. It's like a freakin' laundry list of crap that has happened to me or that I have done, probably more of the latter.... And I just don't want to be THAT guy. I am not looking for sympathy. Well, maybe a little sympathy....

I miss my blog but don't want to be that downer! I'll be around....

Stress Test

School sucks. The people are cool, though, so I have that for which to be thankful. And I have lost ten pounds in three weeks from being under enormous distress, so I am thankful for that, too. Just like a stomach virus, gotta look at the advantages.
I flunked a test.
I have to go home every weekend because I have no childcare.
My boys are like little leeches, refusing to get off of me for fear that I am leaving *again*. It's heartbreaking and frustrating. I didn't even bring my book bag home because I knew it would be flatly impossible to actually do any work. And this class is ridiculous with the amount of assignments. And I am flight leader. So I get twice the responsibility. YAY!
My primary instructor is a douche. He has to be right about everything and lectures us about his perfect views. He blames George Bush for everything and it pisses me off because I don't have the debate skill to shut him up. We have one guy who is a conspiracist, and he can argue pretty good, but MY GOD. We also have a firefighter who can talk about 9-11.... The instructor, the exact same rank as everyone is the class, will ask our opinions on open-ended topics (no real right or wrong) and the argue with us about our personal feelings. It's awful. Do not tell me how I feel!! GOSH.
Yesterday, we had a team-building run and being that I am class leader, I had to lead the formation. Not a problem. I was worried that I would be hating life trying to continuously run for almost three miles, but.... Felt pretty ready to do it and succeed. So we start running and I am picking my pace (what a joke! I run the same speed no matter what!) and the instructor is yelling, "Close it up! Close it up!" And then he goes, "SGT C!" And I said, "WHAT???" but really annoyed.... I guess that was a little obvious. Oops. And my class starts cracking up and laughing.... And the instructor says, "You are picking the pace!" Really? Really? Because I had no fucking idea? He acts like we're retarded. I'm sorry, impaired. So I ran. And did awesome! Even LOST like four, which isn't good, and we went back for them, but that I, I?, didn't fall out LEADING? YAY!!!

I lost ten pounds. Every cloud has a lining.

The cliche that is around the schoolhouse? "I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin." WTF is THAT crap? This sucks.

Ten pounds. Ten pounds.

Badger, badger, badger, badger.... HAHA! Mushroom, mushroom, mushroom, mushroom....

Classy

I'm sorry that I have been gone for so long - and that I will continue to be gone for the next month, at least. I am at the NCO Academy in Panama City, dealing with learning how to be a great leader. Whatever that means.... So, for my buddies that haven't seen me (ERIN), please know that I am not intentionally ignoring you!!!

Being gone sucks, and not just for the reason of 'being gone'. It puts a huge strain on my marriage, my childcare, my health.... But I am in the 'have to' of it, soooo. Guess I'll deal with the issues when I get back.

Miss you guys!