Where do I start?
First of all- my sincerest apologies to Kara: I bought a new digital camera (in girly pink! complete with a memory stick, too!) and cannot for the life of me figure out how to get it to download into the computer. Rest assured I have some very cute pix of JE and Baby G doing their gymnastics, and will try to get pix of JA and the new squeeze (please see next post!) as well as JJ scowling and looking like his dad.
Second, the lease papers have been signed for the duplex, and in approximately two months' time I will no longer be a resident of V--n County, which has always been a life-long ambition of mine. As stated in a previous post, I am more that thrilled with the new home, the new town (very small- pop 3500- with its own schools, and only 15 minutes to Steve's job and S...field, itself.) Three bedrooms, two full baths, fireplace, 2 car garage, and practically brand-new to boot. However, there is a few dark clouds in every sunny sky...
2A.) This summer I will be full-time mother to all. six. of. our. kids. In a three-bedroom duplex. With no family room. Can you say laundry out the wazoo? Can you say bickering children? Can you say mental ward? I actually woke up in a panic attack over this last night and I could not get back to sleep. I have a hard enough time keeping up with cooking, cleaning, clothing, and refereeing now, as it is. How am I going to be able to manage? Steve and I had a long talk about this today, and we have decided serious household organization and full off-spring participation will be required to pull it off. And occasional full-days off for me. Not to mention weekly margarita date nights.
2B.) It looks as if JA will be living with me, after all. More on that later.
Third, I will be telling my boss tomorrow when I plan on resigning. The kids return to school in July (balanced-calendar- yippee!) and after that I will be deciding whether I return to full-time employment or go back to school full time. I would like to go back to school, and I believe the amount of C/S I will be getting will allow that, but we shall see.
Fourth, Steve and I began cleaning and organizing the house today in preparation for the move. Over the next couple week ends, we will be constantly at work, getting things condensed and ready. Pray for me.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
New Address
Well. Steve signs the paper for our new home tonight after work, and drops another wad of cash from his bank account (after dropping $650 for brakes yesterday. Ouch!) They will fax the paper over to me to sign, as well, and he will officially take possession April first, though he won't actually be moving in until after May. Guess that gives us time to get our ducks in a row, huh?
More later, and hopefully some pix...
More later, and hopefully some pix...
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
The Right to BARE Arms
Just a thought: that wedding dress is sleeveless. Sunny J is going to have to pound the arms and shoulders in the next couple months. Heavy weights. Yippee. Biceps training sucks.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Found
Well, I think we have found a place to live.
Not knowing S--field and the surrounding areas very well, I had been given some recommendations about school districts and the like by several friends and family members. Needless to say, S--field schools were out of the question- too big, too scary, too unpredicable. Private school? Too pricey. C-town and R-ville were mentioned as good possibilities, but we could find no rentals for R-ville, and C-town was WAY out of our price range. (Example: 2 B/R 1020 sq ft condo- or what we call 'buy your own end of a duplex'- $148,900. NOT!) Every rental we checked on was in brand new subdivisions, devoid of trees, grass, or normal people. I saw residents out walking/biking in couture, for God's sake! I don't think my crappy old sweatpants and Old Navy t-shirts would have fit in.
Needless to say, the situation was a little stressful, and on the way old of C-town, I finally blurted out, "Aren't there any regular neighborhoods in this place?!" It was exactly what Steve had been thinking. Not ghetto, not country club- we simply want a decent house in a nice, safe area. Preferably family-friendly. And suburban.
There were several condos/duplexes in our price rangle listed in a small suburb, R-town, so I took a chance and made some calls... and one will do quite nicely. It is a duplex with plenty of space, two full bathrooms, a fireplace, and I could not ask for better as far as the schools and community are concerned. I saw kids out riding bikes, adults doing yardwork, normal houses- a few up-scale subdivisions, but nothing extravagant- and everyone seems very salt-of-the-earth. Now all we have to do is wait for our application to be processed, pay our deposit, and we'll be set.
God willing. Wish I had some pix to post- maybe next time.
Not knowing S--field and the surrounding areas very well, I had been given some recommendations about school districts and the like by several friends and family members. Needless to say, S--field schools were out of the question- too big, too scary, too unpredicable. Private school? Too pricey. C-town and R-ville were mentioned as good possibilities, but we could find no rentals for R-ville, and C-town was WAY out of our price range. (Example: 2 B/R 1020 sq ft condo- or what we call 'buy your own end of a duplex'- $148,900. NOT!) Every rental we checked on was in brand new subdivisions, devoid of trees, grass, or normal people. I saw residents out walking/biking in couture, for God's sake! I don't think my crappy old sweatpants and Old Navy t-shirts would have fit in.
Needless to say, the situation was a little stressful, and on the way old of C-town, I finally blurted out, "Aren't there any regular neighborhoods in this place?!" It was exactly what Steve had been thinking. Not ghetto, not country club- we simply want a decent house in a nice, safe area. Preferably family-friendly. And suburban.
There were several condos/duplexes in our price rangle listed in a small suburb, R-town, so I took a chance and made some calls... and one will do quite nicely. It is a duplex with plenty of space, two full bathrooms, a fireplace, and I could not ask for better as far as the schools and community are concerned. I saw kids out riding bikes, adults doing yardwork, normal houses- a few up-scale subdivisions, but nothing extravagant- and everyone seems very salt-of-the-earth. Now all we have to do is wait for our application to be processed, pay our deposit, and we'll be set.
God willing. Wish I had some pix to post- maybe next time.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Faith and Such
So here I am, making a mental list of all the things I need done by the month of May (since we should technically have the keys to a new house by then, even if I will be unable to move into said house until the kidlets are out of school, closer to the end of May.) I know I need to do Spring cleaning and begin condensing and packing everything that can be packed without disrupting daily life, (come on Spring weather! Clothing is so much easier to box up and store in the basement when one is not between seasons!) I need to research schools and start making appointments to look at houses. I have to make a list of things Steve and I positively must have and absolutely will not tolerate in a home. And on and on and on...
And, of course, I will have to notify friends and family about our relocation, and perhaps have a good cry or two with those closest to me about my impending departure.
Wait.
Most of my family already knows that I will most likely be moving, and the only ones who have expressed an interest in this move have been my dad and step-mom. Since I am moving two hours away, the two of them will most likely be moving south as soon as Dad retires so Pat can be with her kids again, and most importantly, with her new grandson. I have not seen or heard from my sister since October (she's a North-Ender now; she doesn't mingle with O'town trash like me.) And my mom has decided Steve is Satan incarnate, and that my re-marriage and move is tantamount to child abuse. And my friends....?
What friends?
At church, my reception has been chilly at best since last May. People will greet me, but scurry away as quickly as possible, lest they be sullied by my adulterous reputation. Those I felt closest to- with whom I have shared my deepest soul-baring concerns- now dismiss me with a polite nod or even a condescending sneer. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. They forget I know them. Very well. I know all about their porn addictions, their secret lusts, their financial infidelity, their envy and strife; I know about their lies, their sloth, and their gluttony. We have shared these struggles for almost seven years, prayed over them together, and loved each other through them all. But it seems my sin is far greater than all theirs combined, and is unforgivable- though I have never asked for their forgiveness. Hell, none of them have had the balls to ask me to my face about any of this.
Evidently my divorce and my relationship with Steve have given them reason to believe I am not as 'Christian' as they thought. Au contraire. Their treatment of me makes me question their relationships with Christ. I have never passed judgment on any of them- I have loved them and accepted them for who and what they are. When gossip would spring up about any of them, I was the first to squelch it or change the subject- not my business. I have not had the favor returned.
Just last week, Steve had a chance at a job within driving distance of O'town; the pay and benefits would have been comparable to what he will be making here, and he knows many of the people in the company. After the rough couple of weeks he has had, it was tempting to take it. After all, the job would be easier and he would not have to fight the self-doubt and uncertainty he has with his current company. Everything would have been easier and more convenient for him and for me. But when he seriously contemplated it, his peace left him. He took it to God, and God told him the same thing He told me: Steve is in S-field for a reason; we are to make a fresh start here, away from the strife and drama we will leave behind. Spiritually, financially, emotionally- the peace of our entire beings is at stake. This path is not the easy one, but it is the one we must take.
I challenge anyone to doubt his faith, for any reason. And likewise, mine as well.
And, of course, I will have to notify friends and family about our relocation, and perhaps have a good cry or two with those closest to me about my impending departure.
Wait.
Most of my family already knows that I will most likely be moving, and the only ones who have expressed an interest in this move have been my dad and step-mom. Since I am moving two hours away, the two of them will most likely be moving south as soon as Dad retires so Pat can be with her kids again, and most importantly, with her new grandson. I have not seen or heard from my sister since October (she's a North-Ender now; she doesn't mingle with O'town trash like me.) And my mom has decided Steve is Satan incarnate, and that my re-marriage and move is tantamount to child abuse. And my friends....?
What friends?
At church, my reception has been chilly at best since last May. People will greet me, but scurry away as quickly as possible, lest they be sullied by my adulterous reputation. Those I felt closest to- with whom I have shared my deepest soul-baring concerns- now dismiss me with a polite nod or even a condescending sneer. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. They forget I know them. Very well. I know all about their porn addictions, their secret lusts, their financial infidelity, their envy and strife; I know about their lies, their sloth, and their gluttony. We have shared these struggles for almost seven years, prayed over them together, and loved each other through them all. But it seems my sin is far greater than all theirs combined, and is unforgivable- though I have never asked for their forgiveness. Hell, none of them have had the balls to ask me to my face about any of this.
Evidently my divorce and my relationship with Steve have given them reason to believe I am not as 'Christian' as they thought. Au contraire. Their treatment of me makes me question their relationships with Christ. I have never passed judgment on any of them- I have loved them and accepted them for who and what they are. When gossip would spring up about any of them, I was the first to squelch it or change the subject- not my business. I have not had the favor returned.
Just last week, Steve had a chance at a job within driving distance of O'town; the pay and benefits would have been comparable to what he will be making here, and he knows many of the people in the company. After the rough couple of weeks he has had, it was tempting to take it. After all, the job would be easier and he would not have to fight the self-doubt and uncertainty he has with his current company. Everything would have been easier and more convenient for him and for me. But when he seriously contemplated it, his peace left him. He took it to God, and God told him the same thing He told me: Steve is in S-field for a reason; we are to make a fresh start here, away from the strife and drama we will leave behind. Spiritually, financially, emotionally- the peace of our entire beings is at stake. This path is not the easy one, but it is the one we must take.
I challenge anyone to doubt his faith, for any reason. And likewise, mine as well.
Kidless Week-End
Guess where I am?
Yep, Steve's apartment. As part of his employment, his new company has allowed him to live in their corporate apartment expense-free for 90 days. Pretty swank! I would have given my eye teeth for an apartment like this back in the day: brand new 1000+ square feet, two bedrooms, bath-and-a-half, fireplace, satellite and internet, washer/dryer... everything. Even towels, linens, and dishes. The walls are paper thin and the people who live above him walk like elephants, but for free, who's complaining?
By the time I got here last night, we were both exhausted and Steve is still battling the tail-end of a monstrous cold, so we just took showers, cuddled up, and went to bed (heh heh.) He had to work again this morning, so I slept in and ended up eating Cracker Barrel for breakfast. Now I am just waiting for him to get home so we can go work out and explore the city.
Do I like it here? Yes and no. This is the place I have wanted to live since Troy was almost hired here in 1993. Just big enough for variety, yet small enough that I'm not scared to death to drive to Walmart. There is tons of stuff to do here- today's paper highlighted an area youth archery club!- and it's fairly clean. but it is still foreign and unfamiliar to me. I know from experience (Monticello) that it takes about a year to become acclimated to a new home, so I believe it's my job now to find a church, schools, and a Y (or other health club) to start meeting some peeps.
Toodles.
Yep, Steve's apartment. As part of his employment, his new company has allowed him to live in their corporate apartment expense-free for 90 days. Pretty swank! I would have given my eye teeth for an apartment like this back in the day: brand new 1000+ square feet, two bedrooms, bath-and-a-half, fireplace, satellite and internet, washer/dryer... everything. Even towels, linens, and dishes. The walls are paper thin and the people who live above him walk like elephants, but for free, who's complaining?
By the time I got here last night, we were both exhausted and Steve is still battling the tail-end of a monstrous cold, so we just took showers, cuddled up, and went to bed (heh heh.) He had to work again this morning, so I slept in and ended up eating Cracker Barrel for breakfast. Now I am just waiting for him to get home so we can go work out and explore the city.
Do I like it here? Yes and no. This is the place I have wanted to live since Troy was almost hired here in 1993. Just big enough for variety, yet small enough that I'm not scared to death to drive to Walmart. There is tons of stuff to do here- today's paper highlighted an area youth archery club!- and it's fairly clean. but it is still foreign and unfamiliar to me. I know from experience (Monticello) that it takes about a year to become acclimated to a new home, so I believe it's my job now to find a church, schools, and a Y (or other health club) to start meeting some peeps.
Toodles.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Wedding Jinx
So I ordered it. The dress. It felt so... so... forbidden. I know my divorce is not yet final- maybe that's where the 'forbidden' came in- and now I am patiently waiting for it to arrive so I can get shoes, under garments, and jewelry. I don't even have an engagement ring yet, but I've already ordered my wedding dress. Go figure- I have always been bass-ackward.
The first time around (many, many eons ago,) a ring was chosen and bought by Troy & me in anticipation of The Proposal. I knew from our second date that I would marry him, so it was no huge surprise; we became officially engaged at Christmas and The Dress was put in lay-away in January (I thought we would be married in October.) Long story short: his job at the Sheriff's Dept prevented asking for any time off for a year, so we tied the knot in May instead, before he graduated from PTI.
I remember choosing bridesmaids' dresses- then having to re-choose them, since my first choice did not meet with my mother's approval- flowers (few, since money was tight,) tuxes, and gift-registry selections. I remember compromising on the reception location, the menu, and the cake topper (there was nothing I really liked at the Sweete Shoppe, so I ended up with a very generic kid-couple whose hair colors did not match ours.,) but holding firm on my wish for a horse-drawn carriage ride. When The Big Day arrived, I went where I was told to go, wore what I was told to wear, and went through the motions of wedding etiquette, from the first vow (which Pastor Silver refused to let me write- damned backward Baptist!) to the final dance.
Troy complied as well, looking bored and uncomfortable the entire day. A harbinger of things to come. His vows were wooden and perfunctory; our wedding 'kiss' consisted of him grabbing me by the shoulders and kissing me with all the passion he would have shown his mother. Or less. He showed no ardour, no emotion- People were watching. People from his family, his childhood, his work place.
When the time came to leave the reception hall, (I use the term loosly,) we gathered up our gifts and headed to the apartment we had been sharing since March with our best friends in tow. We stayed up until 3 in the morning opening gifts, then promptly fell asleep as soon as Brian & Dorene left. She later told me she & Brian decided then and there that we would not be coming home with them after their reception- then they laughed at how very odd a couple we were.
Married is married, whether a couple stands before a minister in a candle-lit cathedral or is handfasted by a Pagan priestess in a grassy meadow. I had my big, white wedding, and it did not matter a jot in the grand scheme of things. But this time around, I am determined to have exactly what I want, because this time around, this wedding- this marriage- is for me. I want my nails done this time. I want a pedicure. I want my hair done and silk from the skin out. I want to write my own vows, and this time I will allow myself to cry. I want Steve to sing to me, then kiss me with all the passion he shows me on a daily basis.
The first time around (many, many eons ago,) a ring was chosen and bought by Troy & me in anticipation of The Proposal. I knew from our second date that I would marry him, so it was no huge surprise; we became officially engaged at Christmas and The Dress was put in lay-away in January (I thought we would be married in October.) Long story short: his job at the Sheriff's Dept prevented asking for any time off for a year, so we tied the knot in May instead, before he graduated from PTI.
I remember choosing bridesmaids' dresses- then having to re-choose them, since my first choice did not meet with my mother's approval- flowers (few, since money was tight,) tuxes, and gift-registry selections. I remember compromising on the reception location, the menu, and the cake topper (there was nothing I really liked at the Sweete Shoppe, so I ended up with a very generic kid-couple whose hair colors did not match ours.,) but holding firm on my wish for a horse-drawn carriage ride. When The Big Day arrived, I went where I was told to go, wore what I was told to wear, and went through the motions of wedding etiquette, from the first vow (which Pastor Silver refused to let me write- damned backward Baptist!) to the final dance.
Troy complied as well, looking bored and uncomfortable the entire day. A harbinger of things to come. His vows were wooden and perfunctory; our wedding 'kiss' consisted of him grabbing me by the shoulders and kissing me with all the passion he would have shown his mother. Or less. He showed no ardour, no emotion- People were watching. People from his family, his childhood, his work place.
When the time came to leave the reception hall, (I use the term loosly,) we gathered up our gifts and headed to the apartment we had been sharing since March with our best friends in tow. We stayed up until 3 in the morning opening gifts, then promptly fell asleep as soon as Brian & Dorene left. She later told me she & Brian decided then and there that we would not be coming home with them after their reception- then they laughed at how very odd a couple we were.
Married is married, whether a couple stands before a minister in a candle-lit cathedral or is handfasted by a Pagan priestess in a grassy meadow. I had my big, white wedding, and it did not matter a jot in the grand scheme of things. But this time around, I am determined to have exactly what I want, because this time around, this wedding- this marriage- is for me. I want my nails done this time. I want a pedicure. I want my hair done and silk from the skin out. I want to write my own vows, and this time I will allow myself to cry. I want Steve to sing to me, then kiss me with all the passion he shows me on a daily basis.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Are you there, God? It's me, Sunny J....
And if You've got a minute to spare, I'd like to make a heart-felt request of You... I'D LIKE MY VA-JAY-JAY BACK.
As stated in a previous post, I spent almost two years in constant pain, suffering from a condition called vulvadynia. I believe the term 'vulvadynia' is Latin for 'coochie hell.' There are many forms of this disorder; mine began with yeast-infection like symptoms, then ballooned into pain, burning, swelling, and even a slight rash. My doctor, God bless her soul, put me through an embarrassing battery of tests, including ones for STD's, infections, and the like; all came back negative. Month after month, the symptoms would vanish with my period, then reappear a week or so later in varying degrees. In the mean time, I continued to work, work out, and try to live a normal life, but wearing jeans was out of the question, and ditto sex. In desperation, she send me to a specialist three hours away- a doctor who specializes in this condition. Praise Jesus! He diagnosed me almost immediately (after ruling out Lupus,) and I was quickly scheduled for a surgery called a vestibulectomy.
I guess I should pause to explain exactly what Vulvadynia is. It is a condition of the nerve endings in the va-jay-jay; in response to previous trauma (childbirth, episiotomies, painful s*e*x, repeated infections, chemical sensitivity,)the nerve endings go crazy, firing off at the least stimulation (like riding a bike, wearing jeans,etc.) A vestibulectomy removes the bartholins glands and the affected/traumitized area of the vestibule (look it up - I'm not going to get graphic,) then reconstructs the area. Thanks to good pain-killers, I recovered quickly (felt alot like the first week or two after childbirth,)and was delighted to discover my 'reconstruction' work had double benefits! (Heh heh heh- can you say "multiple O's"?)
So now, suffering through my first bout of pain in over a year, I am panicked by the possibility that my condition could be back. My specialist says no- it may be a minor relapse, but I will never suffer like that again- but am still worried. And why would I be bleeding after 'relations' again? No reason! My tests have all come back normal- for the love of all that is holy, being my old self again was like getting a new lease on life.
I am praying...
As stated in a previous post, I spent almost two years in constant pain, suffering from a condition called vulvadynia. I believe the term 'vulvadynia' is Latin for 'coochie hell.' There are many forms of this disorder; mine began with yeast-infection like symptoms, then ballooned into pain, burning, swelling, and even a slight rash. My doctor, God bless her soul, put me through an embarrassing battery of tests, including ones for STD's, infections, and the like; all came back negative. Month after month, the symptoms would vanish with my period, then reappear a week or so later in varying degrees. In the mean time, I continued to work, work out, and try to live a normal life, but wearing jeans was out of the question, and ditto sex. In desperation, she send me to a specialist three hours away- a doctor who specializes in this condition. Praise Jesus! He diagnosed me almost immediately (after ruling out Lupus,) and I was quickly scheduled for a surgery called a vestibulectomy.
I guess I should pause to explain exactly what Vulvadynia is. It is a condition of the nerve endings in the va-jay-jay; in response to previous trauma (childbirth, episiotomies, painful s*e*x, repeated infections, chemical sensitivity,)the nerve endings go crazy, firing off at the least stimulation (like riding a bike, wearing jeans,etc.) A vestibulectomy removes the bartholins glands and the affected/traumitized area of the vestibule (look it up - I'm not going to get graphic,) then reconstructs the area. Thanks to good pain-killers, I recovered quickly (felt alot like the first week or two after childbirth,)and was delighted to discover my 'reconstruction' work had double benefits! (Heh heh heh- can you say "multiple O's"?)
So now, suffering through my first bout of pain in over a year, I am panicked by the possibility that my condition could be back. My specialist says no- it may be a minor relapse, but I will never suffer like that again- but am still worried. And why would I be bleeding after 'relations' again? No reason! My tests have all come back normal- for the love of all that is holy, being my old self again was like getting a new lease on life.
I am praying...
Sooooo Wrong!
Okay. So it was bound to happen some time, but I can't imagine ever being prepared for it. In fact, I believe this was one of the most traumatic moments of my life. Allow me to explain...
Steve has been very sick over the past week- so sick, in fact, he actually entertained the idea of seeing a doctor on his own. Fever, chills, aches & pains, sore throat, dripping nose, deep-lung coughs... you name it, he had it. To top this off, it has been a crazy week at work for him- he can't seem to get his department up to speed, and he cannot fathom why. So, to make sure his people were on the ball, he was forced to work over Saturday morning, which meant he couldn't het here until late Saturday afternoon.
No prob. He and Abby arrived just in time for JJ and JE to leave with G'ma Ann, and JA was out and about with his new squeeze, Katie, shopping for Sadie Hawkins shirts "until about 10:00." So Steve, Abby, Baby G and I ate some dinner, we gave baths, had baths ourselves, put the girls to bed, then settled on the couch with a nice bottle of wine. What followed was both magical and primal- as it always is- and just as we were catching our breath and coming back down to earth, we hear a loud BANG! on the bedroom door. We both startled, then I called out, "JA? You home?"
I heard a giggle, then, "Yeah."
So, like any concerned mother, I hopped up, scooped up my pajamas and held them in front of my chest, and dashed into the bathroom (my bedroom and bathroom have a connecting door, and there is also a door into the bathroom through the kitchen.) What I didn't realize is that JA had decided to come into the bathroom via the kitchen, which resulted in a very traumatic meeting of mother and son.
I could've died.
I think we both screamed, and JA scurried out of the bathroom and downstairs to his room where he proceded to call not only his girlfriend and relate the story in full, but also his two best male friends (one of whose parents go to church with me, and have known Troy since he was in diapers!) Steve laughed and laughed, and we both woke up snickering about it this morning. But deep inside, I am mortified.
I think I finally warped him.
Steve has been very sick over the past week- so sick, in fact, he actually entertained the idea of seeing a doctor on his own. Fever, chills, aches & pains, sore throat, dripping nose, deep-lung coughs... you name it, he had it. To top this off, it has been a crazy week at work for him- he can't seem to get his department up to speed, and he cannot fathom why. So, to make sure his people were on the ball, he was forced to work over Saturday morning, which meant he couldn't het here until late Saturday afternoon.
No prob. He and Abby arrived just in time for JJ and JE to leave with G'ma Ann, and JA was out and about with his new squeeze, Katie, shopping for Sadie Hawkins shirts "until about 10:00." So Steve, Abby, Baby G and I ate some dinner, we gave baths, had baths ourselves, put the girls to bed, then settled on the couch with a nice bottle of wine. What followed was both magical and primal- as it always is- and just as we were catching our breath and coming back down to earth, we hear a loud BANG! on the bedroom door. We both startled, then I called out, "JA? You home?"
I heard a giggle, then, "Yeah."
So, like any concerned mother, I hopped up, scooped up my pajamas and held them in front of my chest, and dashed into the bathroom (my bedroom and bathroom have a connecting door, and there is also a door into the bathroom through the kitchen.) What I didn't realize is that JA had decided to come into the bathroom via the kitchen, which resulted in a very traumatic meeting of mother and son.
I could've died.
I think we both screamed, and JA scurried out of the bathroom and downstairs to his room where he proceded to call not only his girlfriend and relate the story in full, but also his two best male friends (one of whose parents go to church with me, and have known Troy since he was in diapers!) Steve laughed and laughed, and we both woke up snickering about it this morning. But deep inside, I am mortified.
I think I finally warped him.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Crushes
Paging Doctor Freud! What follows is a collection of the strange celebrity crushes of my life, and why I think I found them so attractive at the time...
Barry Gibb. Yes, folks, I was a little girl in the 70's, but in my own defense, my mother was a Bee Gees fan long before disco. I have had a huge crush on this man since I was 3 years old (maybe that's why a man who can sing goes a long way with me! And yes, Steve can sing, but his voice is more Josh Turner than Gibb brother.) That hair! Those teeth! That lovely voice! I know he is only two months younger than my own father, but I still find him to be one of the sexiest men alive. (I would make him sing before putting out, however...) Further, the lyrics he writes must come from a very beautiful heart. Whenever I sit down to write, I listen to the Bee Gees first. 
John Taylor. At the age of 13, I discovered Duran Duran (hey, it was the 80's!) and their tall, lanky bassist. Simon was more interesting and probably sexier, but at the time, I liked my men (boys) shy and reserved, which is how the teen idol mags at the time portrayed him. I think every young girl has a teen idol like this: an older man to dream about, to project all her future hopes and dreams upon, and to practice mental dating with before she is old enough to step outside the house in search of a boy to swap hickeys with. The fantasy is a way to try on different adult personas (complete with professional hair, make-up, wardrobe, and up-lighting!) in the safety of her own mind. I still think he is an atractive man, but would never dream of getting nekkid with him: God only knows what I'd catch!
Sam Elliott. Rough, manly, with that deep, gravely southern voice. The older I get, the less I like 'pretty' in my men, and Sam is certainly not pretty. He feeds both my cowboy fantasies, as well as my civil war fantasies (see Gettysburg- John Buford- oh yeah!) I have always thought Steve looks like a young version of this man- dee-lish-us! He is getting a little crusty in his old age, but I still find him wildly attractive. And I watch any movie that has him in it.
Sean Bean. Mmm mmm...... Okay, so I'm a Tolkien geek, and what's not to like about a manly man in chain mail, weilding a sword? (For even more swash-buckling, lust-inspiring manly man war scenes, watch the BBC's Sharpe series.) Watching this man has given the romance writer in me her latest muse, and has inspired pages and pages of steamy love scenes. And people wonder why I'm always smiling and spaced-out on the eliptical machine at the Y...
Barry Gibb. Yes, folks, I was a little girl in the 70's, but in my own defense, my mother was a Bee Gees fan long before disco. I have had a huge crush on this man since I was 3 years old (maybe that's why a man who can sing goes a long way with me! And yes, Steve can sing, but his voice is more Josh Turner than Gibb brother.) That hair! Those teeth! That lovely voice! I know he is only two months younger than my own father, but I still find him to be one of the sexiest men alive. (I would make him sing before putting out, however...) Further, the lyrics he writes must come from a very beautiful heart. Whenever I sit down to write, I listen to the Bee Gees first. 
Harrison Ford. Yes, please! As the 70's turned into the 80's and I hit puberty, Mr. Ford fueled my imagination in the worst way. I remember lying in my bunk at church camp, clutching a trading card close-up of this man, wondering if I would ever be admitted to heaven while lusting for him like I did. It was really George Lucas' fault, you know- Han Solo started it! (Oh, to be Princess Leia abord the Millenium Falcoln! Surely the vessel had a broom closet???) Then I had the good (mis)fortune to watch Hanover Street, a WWII drama in which Harrison romances a married woman. Hubba hubba! I have always been a history lover- Dr Jones!!!- and I even did some archeogology work in high school while toying with the idea of being a history/archeology major. Go figure. I still can't watch an Indiana Jones film without craving a cigarette afterwards. And I'm not even a smoker!
Adam Ant! Though recently admitted to the nut house, I still think any man comfortable enough to dress up like a pirate/highwayman/Regency dandy and dance around a stage (not to mention his clever song lyrics- 'Beat My Guest,' indeed!) is a man I'd like to date. He has the most beautiful face (should've been a girl, really,) and those lovely blue eyes. Again, I believe my love of history added to the fascination. He provided me hours of fantasy, not to mention hours of writing material (to this very day, I still have a deformed middle finger from writing and banging my fingers against my rickety old typewriter.)
John Taylor. At the age of 13, I discovered Duran Duran (hey, it was the 80's!) and their tall, lanky bassist. Simon was more interesting and probably sexier, but at the time, I liked my men (boys) shy and reserved, which is how the teen idol mags at the time portrayed him. I think every young girl has a teen idol like this: an older man to dream about, to project all her future hopes and dreams upon, and to practice mental dating with before she is old enough to step outside the house in search of a boy to swap hickeys with. The fantasy is a way to try on different adult personas (complete with professional hair, make-up, wardrobe, and up-lighting!) in the safety of her own mind. I still think he is an atractive man, but would never dream of getting nekkid with him: God only knows what I'd catch!Sam Elliott. Rough, manly, with that deep, gravely southern voice. The older I get, the less I like 'pretty' in my men, and Sam is certainly not pretty. He feeds both my cowboy fantasies, as well as my civil war fantasies (see Gettysburg- John Buford- oh yeah!) I have always thought Steve looks like a young version of this man- dee-lish-us! He is getting a little crusty in his old age, but I still find him wildly attractive. And I watch any movie that has him in it.
Tommy Lee Jones. I chalk this one up to watching too much of The Fugitive (trying to get my Harrison Ford fix.) I didn't even realise I found this man attractive until I started having very, um, interesting dreams about him while pregnant for my second son. I don't find him handsome whatsoever, but he is still very sexy. Very manly. Rough and ugly, just my type. I have read that he is actually a very intelligent and polished gentleman, but I'll just stick to his movie persona, thank you; 'gentlemen' belong in Barabra Cartland novels, not in my hormonal fantasies.
Well, now that I have this off my chest, I feel somewhat better, kind of like I've sent a postcard to postsecret. So now it's your turn. Who's your secret (embarrassing) crush?
Is This Appropriate?
I know this may be jinxing things, but I believe I have found my next wedding dress (in ivory, not pink, though the pink is very pretty, too.) We are unofficially planning to fly to Vegas when my divorce is final on some unassuming week-end when we are minus our off spring to tie the knot, then proceed to go bungee jumping or sky diving, or something equally crazy and risky to celebrate our nuptials. I have decided I want this ceremony to be unique and special in its own right, with no reminders of any past wedding for either of us (so no May date!) And I also want it to be an unforgetable experience that I will remember with a tear in my eye and a lump in my throat for the rest of my life.Now if I could only find these shoes- or something similar- in off-white....
Sunday Night Blues
Well, another week end has come and passed, and I am just drained. The kids were with Troy, but Steve and I had Abby while trying to empty his (rented) house of all his belongings. When she is by herself, she is generally pretty easy to live with- the mouth gets sassy some times and there are moments of only-child demanding-ness- but I could have used a little down time. And his landlords came to change the locks immediately after we left! He had to tell them to slow down, since my step-mom is going to clean for him this week, but it is almost as if they did not intend to give him his deposit back. Not cool.
And what would a week-end with Steve be without a little ex-wife drama? We went to get Abby Friday night, and were told she would be next door at her adult brother's house. No prob. BUT (and there is always a BUT with this woman,) when we pulled in the adjoining drive, her new man's car was running in front of the house, most certainly to make sure Steve knew where and with whom she would be this week end. Bear in mind the 'new man' is her ex-slutting buddy's soon to be ex-husband, and her coke dealer. The older brother told us Abby's bag of clothes were still in the other house, (go figure,) so of course Steve had to go in and get them. Then out comes Steve- followed by the ex and the new man, whom I will call 'Jason' (no offense, Kara!) who are toting a case of beer and a bottle of something with them. Typical.
Now. This woman, who truly believes she is God's gift to mankind, is a very BIG girl- I am talking tall (5'8"+) and broad-shouldered with some serious tree-trunk legs. I have been told that, once upon a time, she kept her weight down to about 125 (with the help of speed and diet pills!) but she is certainly nowhere near that number now. She gave me a coy look, then the two of them sped off into the night for what I assume was an evening of cheap alcohol and white-trash lurve. When Steve got back into the car, I made a catty comment about them being a match made in heaven, and he replied mockingly, "Yeah, I thought they weren't seeing each other!"
If he actually believed that, I have the proverbial bridge to sell him.
Since breaking up with the Charles Manson lookalike in November (after he blacked both her eyes and nearly put her in the hospital,) this is at least man #2 to have shared her bed. In my neck of the woods, this is what we call a 'slut,' children! And he and Steve used to be pretty tight friends (and not the first one of his 'friends' she has slept with, either!) They have even commisurated over being married to two of the easiest women in Christendom on occasion. Don't know what this Jason is thinking- but, as I explained to Steve, the man is vulnerable right now, and he needs someone to take care of his kids while he works. I guess they are perfect for each other: he is getting a free babysitter (though I would think twice about letting her near my kids after seeing the way she treats Abby and treated the other two in the past!) and a piece of ass, and she is getting her coke for free. She can be charming and pleasant when she wants to be- a true cat, the youngest of three and 'helpless'- especially when it suits her purposes. She wants to get married (before we do, I am sure!) and this appeals to not only her need for revenge (it's a long story,) but also her need for drama.
God help us. She is a true piece of work. I'll be sure to entertain you with more stories later, though you may not believe them for all the stupidity and drama involved. Scout's Honor, folks: only the names have been changed, to protect the innocent!
And what would a week-end with Steve be without a little ex-wife drama? We went to get Abby Friday night, and were told she would be next door at her adult brother's house. No prob. BUT (and there is always a BUT with this woman,) when we pulled in the adjoining drive, her new man's car was running in front of the house, most certainly to make sure Steve knew where and with whom she would be this week end. Bear in mind the 'new man' is her ex-slutting buddy's soon to be ex-husband, and her coke dealer. The older brother told us Abby's bag of clothes were still in the other house, (go figure,) so of course Steve had to go in and get them. Then out comes Steve- followed by the ex and the new man, whom I will call 'Jason' (no offense, Kara!) who are toting a case of beer and a bottle of something with them. Typical.
Now. This woman, who truly believes she is God's gift to mankind, is a very BIG girl- I am talking tall (5'8"+) and broad-shouldered with some serious tree-trunk legs. I have been told that, once upon a time, she kept her weight down to about 125 (with the help of speed and diet pills!) but she is certainly nowhere near that number now. She gave me a coy look, then the two of them sped off into the night for what I assume was an evening of cheap alcohol and white-trash lurve. When Steve got back into the car, I made a catty comment about them being a match made in heaven, and he replied mockingly, "Yeah, I thought they weren't seeing each other!"
If he actually believed that, I have the proverbial bridge to sell him.
Since breaking up with the Charles Manson lookalike in November (after he blacked both her eyes and nearly put her in the hospital,) this is at least man #2 to have shared her bed. In my neck of the woods, this is what we call a 'slut,' children! And he and Steve used to be pretty tight friends (and not the first one of his 'friends' she has slept with, either!) They have even commisurated over being married to two of the easiest women in Christendom on occasion. Don't know what this Jason is thinking- but, as I explained to Steve, the man is vulnerable right now, and he needs someone to take care of his kids while he works. I guess they are perfect for each other: he is getting a free babysitter (though I would think twice about letting her near my kids after seeing the way she treats Abby and treated the other two in the past!) and a piece of ass, and she is getting her coke for free. She can be charming and pleasant when she wants to be- a true cat, the youngest of three and 'helpless'- especially when it suits her purposes. She wants to get married (before we do, I am sure!) and this appeals to not only her need for revenge (it's a long story,) but also her need for drama.
God help us. She is a true piece of work. I'll be sure to entertain you with more stories later, though you may not believe them for all the stupidity and drama involved. Scout's Honor, folks: only the names have been changed, to protect the innocent!
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