A Wonderful Life

I know I've not been a fountain of optimism on this blog lately. Well, you're going to have to put up with one more dose of negativity, and Lord knows I hope it's the last for a while.

TH got up this morning to make lattes, as he always does, and much to our dismay found our beloved dog, Margarita, had died during the night. She was 11, would have been 12 in April, and yes, for a Labrador, that's on the upper end of the scale. She had arthritis in her hips pretty badly, but other than that and a general slowing of her activity level, she was in fairly good health. She'd just come through her last checkup in January with good results beyond her known mostly old-age related issues.

She was the biggest pain in the ass as a puppy you could think of. The first thing she did when my Mom brought her in our house at 2 months was poop and pee on the kitchen floor. I was about 3-4 months pregnant. You can imagine my joy in having to take care of a puppy when I was exhausted. But of course she was so stinking cute and we grew to love her in spite of (sometimes because of) her sometimes Marley-esque activities.

As she matured, she became a sweet and lovely dog. She loved people, her family, especially her boys (Big Bit in particular), she listened, she didn't dig or chew and she was very intelligent. Last summer she actually caught a squirrel (quite by accident I think) and you would have thought she was a pup again, she was so proud of herself. She was loyal, bossy (she would snatch her sister's stuffed animals when she walked in the door).

Her mother, who some friends owned, died at the same age she was now, I think, and had far more health problems for far longer than our pooch. She didn't have a prolonged illness and I hope didn't suffer at all, or if so only very briefly. So I know she was lucky in that respect. But, damn it, we're going to miss her.

And yesterday was National Margarita Day. I kid you not.

Love you, Pookums.

Talk Thursday - Long Time Gone

"You're a long time gone...keepin' your secrets for too long. Baby, you ain't half of what you used to be....in this dim October sky, I've got no tears left to cry...And I'm finally learning you can't be too strong....I'm a long time gone" - Gin Blossoms, Long Time Gone.

Well, since it's my topic...I'd better write on it.

I went to church Sunday, as I do most Sundays (not all, sadly, in the winter I am a sloth who has trouble rising before 9 when the sun comes up unless it involves going somewhere warm or getting paid to show up to work). As one of the ladies I work with says, I don't go to church so much because I think I have to in order to keep my faith, but I'd hate to see what kind of person I'd be if I didn't go. She said that about her, not me. I think.

I had already sent out the topic, and had some idea of what I would write about. But then it was the Women's service at the church as happens once a year. Yeah, you'd think I'd know that. But I'm not terribly involved other than showing up, worshiping and giving money. Lutherans aren't the most friendly bunch in the world, and while I really like our Pastor, who's in his early 30s and, for a Pastor, fairly liberal in his ideas, I don't fit in with his "group" who are about his age, and I don't fit in with the older people, (i.e. anyone 10 years older than me) because they just seem very comfortable with each other, and despite the fact they've seen my mug on and off for 15 years, they don't seem to interested in pursuing a conversation, and as I've mentioned before I'm shy. (note to Kristi - when Shane has a church, make darned sure you go talk to that nice lady in her early 40's who's standing off to the side and isn't quite sure how to proceed. She'll love you for it).

So, anyhoo, there I am in church, led by the ladies, and very nicely, too. Then the woman who was doing the sermon got up. And, kids, she rocked my world. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. I thought I knew at first, but now I'm not sure how to pull it off.

What I've taken from my experiences a "Long Time Gone" is that you can do something with the best of intentions and be brutally, totally, and completely punished for it. Due to my not being the primary custodial parent the majority of the time since Big Bit started school, I've had everything from people who broke off conversations upon finding out my situation to "family" members saying (though not to my face, of course) that I was probably unfit or at the very least an extremely poor mother for not being in the same town as my child. (Please note, one of these family member should be investigated by Child Protective Services, and I'm not the only person who thinks that. So I thought she had a lot of nerve. No, she doesn't read this, so it's not any of you). I had someone tell me when I announced I was pregnant "Oh (bleep)". I took this as an assumption that I would not be able to keep custody or raise a second child effectively.

In fact, I will note for the historical record, there has never been any allegation I'm unfit. I just had the cojones to stand up for myself, and to some guys, that is enough of a crime.

I knew my truth, why I did make certain decisions and not others. Certain decisions were made by "independent" third parties who at the end of the day didn't seem independent at all. I've made my peace with that part of it, as it were. I don't claim to be without blame. I have plenty and I take responsibility. But I can't stand to even hear EHFH's voice anymore.

The woman, who had also been through a bad divorce, though one with different parameters than mine, said that you have to forgive. Not for the other person, but for yourself. I've heard this before, in other times and places, but this time it really hit me. Whether you believe in Christianity or you think it's bunk, this is a precept that does make a lot of sense.

You see, Friday is Big Bit's 18th birthday. I've been going through this crap for SIXTEEN YEARS. Let me repeat: SIXTEEN years. And while when I got divorced I had no hard feelings as such towards EHFH, he has made it his mission over the last SIXTEEN years to make my life a living hell whenever possible. His actions have pretty much made what affection remained morph into something pretty close to hatred. And while he hasn't always succeeded in his quest, he's succeeded enough to make me more than regret giving him that power. If you add in our married and divorced time, it's coming up on 25 years. That's a lifetime.

So I resolve to forgive on Sunday night. And I'm feeling very "Christlike in my love and forgiveness" to paraphrase the Church (not my Church but "the one true Church"). Then Big Bit calls me last night to talk to me about his FAFSA that has to be filed so he can get qualified for his scholarships, private grants, etc. He and his father are yelling at each other. Not screaming, but yelling pretty loud. I flashback to being afraid, with a two year old in a diaper in my arms, backing up towards a refrigerator, with a very enraged man in my face. I tell Big Bit that I have to get off the phone.

"Call me when you're done". I know it's not serious, honestly. I know they're just both mad, not violent in any way. Big Bit is 6 foot tall and at least 185 lbs. But it gives me the heebie jeebies.

Then, when Big Bit calls back, and I explain that I couldn't stay on the phone because it was creeping me out, he has the raw nerve to say "You aren't good with confrontation".

Oh, I'm good with confrontation, son. I held you in my arms ready to defend you to the end with your dad screaming in our faces. I'm glad you don't remember. I confronted 12 hours of labor only to go through major surgery to have you. And I'm glad I did. I bought my lawyer a freakin' Corvette to try and keep you with me. I'm just not good with screaming.

It's obviously hard to forgive. But it's a long time gone, and I'm tired of secrets. And yelling. It is time to forgive. Wish me good luck, I'm going to need it.

Other than posting pics of Big Bit's graduation which may include pictures of him, this is the last time I will mention that man, forgiveness or no. It's time for that as well.

I Know. I Heard. But Thanks For Pointing It Out.

I really am going to do my "what I did this summer" post, probably this weekend, with pictures to prove that I actually did activities and had fun. In the meantime, I have one thing to say, to quote the "Meat Packers Union" blog: "There is no I in me". And apparently, misquoting old sports adages isn't the only thing wrong with this man. The only thing I would need to add, if I really wanted to get creative, is some horns. I hope you're happy, dude, because you have only yourself to blame.

On The Subject Of Things That Suck

Update: Friday, February 13. Charles passed away this morning. God Bless and RIP.

TH has been a Dungeons and Dragons guy for many moons now, since high school.

When he was at loose ends around 6 years ago (because the Mother Ship was foolish enough to let him go), he met up with Steve the Lawyer (of Golden Mallet Fame), Jim, the Professor (of Ugly Hoodie Fame) and lastly, Charles (another lawyer, loyal to the Mother Ship). They all shared this interest and went on to have many nights full of Mountain Dew (Yvette will get the reference even before finishing reading). While we lived in Utah, anytime TH came up for work, Charles, especially, was the one who said "come stay at my house...anything you need is yours." He is so very, very shy, but for TH, he made the effort and though I didn't know him well, it made me care for him very much.

Well, as of tonight, Charles is in the hospital. He has cancer, which we've long known, never with much hope for recovery, short of a miracle. Still, especially given how long TH's mother lived with her own particular form of this horrible illness, you just never expect someone to really go. You expect the miracle. But we think this time, it may be not happening.

And he's forty damn years old. Never married. No kids. Loving family and friends yes, but somehow I feel he's been robbed of the chance to live all of the facets of life he may have desired.
Some things just suck.

Be well Charles. Whatever happens, be well.

In his honor (thanks Yvette) I post the below video because I think, right now, he'd rather be having Cheetos and Mountain Dew and laughing at this stereotypical D&D adventure.

Ouch

That about sums up how my day went - what did you do to yourself?

Weekend Update

Thoughts:

The Packers officially suck. I hope they lose the rest of their games this year so Ted Thompson gets his booty fired. He deserves it. "We don't need Brett Favre...nooooo..."

The Jets are doing pretty damn well. Given the fact that TH's ultimate boss at his soon to be ex-place of employment is now threatening to fire people who screw up (because they're so severely understaffed people are tired and angry and screwing up) is the Rams' biggest fan...it just makes the Jets' a--kicking of them today that much more favorable. You go, Mr. Favre. Even if you are washed up.

Jeff Gordon is a damn fine race car driver and should have finished better than 5th in NASCAR. Maybe next year.

I hate the housing market in Utah and I want someone to buy our house so we can breathe a little. PLEASE? If you know anyone who needs a really cool house in a really conservative neighborhood, give me a yell.

I am glad to be home. Even if I'm broke. I'm glad to be employed at a place that seems calm and serene even in the midst of a crisis. And I'm very, very glad to be in a country that can see past the color of someone's skin, or their gender for that matter, when they vote. Despite differences of opinion, the good old USA rocks. Seriously.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled rants.

It's Been A Long Season

Well, here we go again, football fans. Is there anyone that's not playing hurt or out that I like?

Homeboy, aka Jordan Gross of the Carolina Panthers, will not start this weekend. He has started every game since coming to Carolina in 2003. I did not realize he was knocked out last week against the Falcons...I would have been concerned.

Why the interest in this guy, you ask? Well, if you look him up, you will see he is from a little burgh in Idaho called Fruitland. As is The Husband. We do not know Jordan, but TH did go to school with his older brothers and sisters and lived down the street from the family. He probably saw Jordan as a toddler now and then. (Yes, they have a big family).

Though not a huge Panthers fan, or a University of Utah fan (where he went to college), we are big Jordan Gross fans. I hope he's okay. Here's a shout out to Homeboy - get better man!

I Hate The Cowgirls

But...noooooo....the Packers don't need Brett Favre....they have the QB of the future....right...

The Packers offically sucked tonight. Brett may be gone, but Aaron & Co. need to step up.

The defense looked great. But you get damn tired when you're on the field 80% of the time.

Where is Jessica Simpson with her pink jersey when you need her?

Go Pack.

Aw Frack

Brett, Take Your Ball and Go Home.

Let's move on.

Go Pack.

RIP, Mr. P

Idaho lost a great guy today. Dan Peterson died at the age of 55. He'd been a player in the Shakespeare Festival I think since it's inception 30 some years ago. I don't remember a year I didn't see him playing some part, even if small, with his usual panache; and one of my fondest memories is of his green show featuring the "worst guest" at the Festival: riding his bike straight from the Greenbelt into the amphitheatre, setting up a small, yet smoky barbecue grill ready for bratwurst etc., high backed lawn chairs guaranteed to get the burn going for those lucky guests sitting on the ground behind you, a cigar, arguing with the usher who was trying desperately to get him to behave etc. etc.

Godspeed Dan, and my thoughts are with your wife. I didn't "know" you, but I sure felt like I did. And, from what I hear from some who did, you were a hell of a guy and a hell of an Idahoan. I will miss you like crazy when I go to MacBeth on August 9. I would have gotten to see my old friend again.

I LOVE BRETT FAVRE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u8HAzI63X8Q

I think this pretty much states my position. And yes, I have loved the Packers since Bart Starr was their QB (look it up).

Let's go Pack.

Hurl

This whole thing with Brett and the Packers makes me want to hurl...please don't let him go play for the Vikqueens.

Mourning

I'm sorry, I was going to post a humorous story about the new addition to my neighborhood as an example of why Utah is SO interesting. However, with the announcement of Brett Favre's retirement,I am officially in mourning. To paraphrase another Packer blogger, everyone (I think) knows there are several phases of grief. His suggested phases for this particular day were:


* Shock
* Denial
* Depression (that's one I added)
* Pabst

Substitute Chardonnay for the Pabst and you just about have where I am at.

Mr. Favre, you and your wife are class acts. I will miss you sincerely. I'm also proud I was able to see you play in your last regular season game at Lambeau Field.

Hopefully later today I can post the funny story. Right now I'm too depressed. The Chardonnay will have to wait until later as well.

Ouch

That hurt. A lot. Last Packer post for a while, fer shure. I'm nursing my wounds and still hoping that #4 comes back next year - he's an amazing person and an amazing player and I know I that I will be sad if I have seen him play for the last time.

The boys and I are going to Green Bay next year (all 4 of us) if he comes back. Then I can quit my stupid job.