The difference between fiction and reality? Fiction has to make sense.
~ Tom Clancy
I think this is why I used to love to read so much.
Now, I can't read. Not like I used to. I can't keep up anymore.
I have to restart, whenever I stop because I can't remember 'key' things the way I used to.
Which is why I use to love my Reader's Digest subscription so much.
I could get lost in little tid-bits of reality, that more often than not, end well.
And reality, well...that I don't want to keep up with most times.
I'd rather throw myself to the floor like a three year old having a temper-tantrum and deny it instead.
Of course, that gets one nowhere really quick, so I don't.
I was feeling half-way good about things and indifferent about other things.
As is par the course for me, I suppose.
Don't think I wrote about here, so I do a little 'fill-in' before I rant.
There's been trouble on the horizon as far as getting Moby overseas.
Animals aren't permitted to travel when the temperature's are over 85 degree's.
Makes perfect sense. Probably made even more perfect sense whatever year it was made an official Animal Welfare Act or Law or whathaveyou.
It's a little confusing now though.
The airlines, state that the animals are kept in a climate controlled facility, prior to their flight. They are then transferred to a climate controlled section of the plane for the flight and upon arrival of their destination, they are again transferred to another climate controlled facility until someone picks them up.
So, apparently the big deal about the high temperature, is that window of minutes when the animal is taken to or from the facility to the plane and back.
The problem we've had, is that the policy apparently goes by whatever the mid-day high temperature is...
Brilliant...if the animal is departing or arriving during said mid-day high temperature.
Why this reasoning still applies to animals that are arriving in the early morning hours or night-time hours...you know...when the freaking temperatures aren't mid-day high...is the problem we're having.
So the dead-end we've currently hit is that the final decision, rests with one person at the airline, that decides whether or not, it is safe for the animal to fly.
Nobody at the airline, seems to know this persons name.
Morons.
So we'll see.
That's where it's at.
The only good news this whole process involves, is a wee-little bit of progress on my part.
I've been very, very stressed. About everything.
And it got to a point that TheRammerHammer actually said the words, "Let me fight this fight for you, Peg."
I was stunned. I didn't know what to say or how to respond, at first. I've never had anyone say those words to me. E.v.e.r.
Certainly not ever in a romantic relationship.
And it took a couple of hours of reckoning in my head and my heart.
But I did it.
I.Let.Go.
It's the first time, in my life...I have ever let go.
Which got me to thinking that at first, I haven't exhaled in almost two years.
Then I realized, that I really haven't exhaled my entire life.
I moved out when I was 16. It was me against the world.
Then I had Daisy, and not long after that...it was she and I against the world.
And even when I was married to S...it didn't turn out to be what a marriage is supposed to be...so I was still fighting for two.
Now I'm in uncharted territory.
And I kinda like the way it feels.
I know that life still won't be perfect and that it will still be filled with trials and tribulations all along the way...but I feel as if I might actually collapse into TheRammerHammer's arms on the 15th...I feel like, for the first time in my life...I will be able to exhale.
Which leads to my next topic...a suck ass topic.
I can't testify about other diseases, but cancer can be very confusing.
Once you have it and go through all the bullshit...you come to a point, or at least I did, where I started bouncing back and forth about the future.
You get tired of the poking and the prodding...and it feels as if there is a monkey on your back named 'cancer'... that is just waiting for the right time to pounce again and you instinctively know that 'the right time' will be the exact time you let your guard down...
So there are times when you can't wait for your scans, because you just know in your heart that they will be okay.
Then there are other times, when you dread them, and even reschedule them...because you hate that freakin' monkey and the power that it holds and the only way you can take the power back is to not know and not care about knowing and just let life take whatever course it is going to take without the input and intervention of medicine and technology.
Which is where I am right now.
I look at myself in the mirror every, single day and feel the pain I feel and I can't help but ask myself out loud, "What on earth did you let these people pump into you?"
Irrationally, I don't want to do anything else. No more doctors. No more medicines.
I feel as if my body fought what they were doing, fought the medicine and what the medicine was supposed to do and came out of menopause for a reason.
I want a normal life back.
TheRammerHammer and I have spoke of perhaps having another child someday.
Been thinking about finding out what the effects of all of the crap they've already pumped into me, might have on a future pregnancy and if it's possible to conceive and carry to term...
Or perhaps finding out if it is possible than to proceed further and then discuss and make a plan for more medicine afterwards...
And today, I find confirmation of something terrible.
Something I didn't comment about...or I couldn't bring myself to comment about...until it was for sure, one way or the other.
Lizard Eater's daughter, Little Warrior, has been re diagnosed.
And it breaks my heart. And it infuriates me.
It's not fucking fair.
It makes me realize and have to accept (once again, because I bounce back and forth) that a normal life will never again be possible.
I knew this a long time ago...I used to tell people that there were no "survivor's".
You hear of people getting cancer, going through cancer, fighting cancer, in remission from cancer and then you hear of them losing their battle with cancer.
It's just a matter of freakin' time before the other shoe drops...and you can get comfortable or not get comfortable with the time in between...but the damn thing always drops.
And I can handle that.
For me.
But not for Little Warrior. Not for any child.
It's not fucking fair.
And I hate it.
And then to read LE's words of, 'Why not me?"
Breaks my heart even more.
I can't help but want to scream at the damn computer screen, "NO! NOT YOU EITHER LIZARD EATER! WHY NOT ME?"
Children don't deserve this.
And mother's of little one's don't deserve this!
I've already had a long life.
And yes, a child always needs their mother, no matter how old they get, but my daughter is 18 now...she's ready to start her own life...
Little Warrior has her whole life ahead of her...and she and her siblings are young and they need their mother now.
And it's not fucking fair.
And even though I stand firm in my beliefs, or in what I don't believe in anymore, I guess would be more appropriate...I'm in awe of Lizard Eater.
I admire her strength and never-wavering faith in her g-d.
I don't know how she does it or where she finds the strength to do so.
But she should be nominated for some kind of an award or recognized in her church somehow.
And Little Warrior...well dammit...she doesn't deserve this crap at all...and I wish, I wish, I wish I could take it all away.
And I know I can't.
And it's not fucking fair.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.
~ Rainer Marie Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
I can only hope.
And I do, in a lot of ways.
And in other ways, I'm already 100% sure.
Don't get me wrong. I'm thrilled and thankful and excited about going...it's just other things happening around here that I'm not understanding right now.
It's just hard.
This is what I have out in front of my house:
My house. It's weird that I won't be able to say those two words in the same sentence pretty soon. Anyhoo...yeah...it's killing me to walk past the empty garden everyday.
This is what it used to look like, right before winter:
No mulch to be seen. Just the way I like it.
No point in pouring money I don't have anyway, into sprucing it back up, only to leave in three weeks though.
The RammerHammer is probably going to think I'm crazy, but one of the first two boxes I have ready to be shipped to me contains a couple of planter pots, some potting soil and seeds. We'll have a balcony over there and a bare balcony just simply won't do. It will need some green and other asorted colored flowers. Seeing as how expenses will be tight for awhile...I'm coming prepared.
That's how I roll.
I'm going to miss these too:
Yeah. I don't think enticing squirrels to our balcony will be an option, but perhaps a few birds will come and visit every now and again. Time will tell.
What sucks is that thanks to the present circumstances, I'm already missing these things.
Needless to say, I've been feeding them for seven years now, so there are some very confused birds and squirrels in my tree's. And I don't like to look out my front window anymore.
On another note of missing...but in a good way, these two boys went to their new forever home yesterday:
They went together though thankfully. I love when that happens with siblings! They were the resident clowns here though, so I already miss their goofyness.
Still haven't found anyone to foster the infamous Ozwald until September. Fast approaching freak-out-mode.
That's it for today. Not very exciting huh. Sorry.
Hope everyone is well.
~ Rainer Marie Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
I can only hope.
And I do, in a lot of ways.
And in other ways, I'm already 100% sure.
Don't get me wrong. I'm thrilled and thankful and excited about going...it's just other things happening around here that I'm not understanding right now.
It's just hard.
This is what I have out in front of my house:
My house. It's weird that I won't be able to say those two words in the same sentence pretty soon. Anyhoo...yeah...it's killing me to walk past the empty garden everyday.
This is what it used to look like, right before winter:
No mulch to be seen. Just the way I like it.
No point in pouring money I don't have anyway, into sprucing it back up, only to leave in three weeks though.
The RammerHammer is probably going to think I'm crazy, but one of the first two boxes I have ready to be shipped to me contains a couple of planter pots, some potting soil and seeds. We'll have a balcony over there and a bare balcony just simply won't do. It will need some green and other asorted colored flowers. Seeing as how expenses will be tight for awhile...I'm coming prepared.
That's how I roll.
I'm going to miss these too:
Yeah. I don't think enticing squirrels to our balcony will be an option, but perhaps a few birds will come and visit every now and again. Time will tell.
What sucks is that thanks to the present circumstances, I'm already missing these things.
Needless to say, I've been feeding them for seven years now, so there are some very confused birds and squirrels in my tree's. And I don't like to look out my front window anymore.
On another note of missing...but in a good way, these two boys went to their new forever home yesterday:
They went together though thankfully. I love when that happens with siblings! They were the resident clowns here though, so I already miss their goofyness.
Still haven't found anyone to foster the infamous Ozwald until September. Fast approaching freak-out-mode.
That's it for today. Not very exciting huh. Sorry.
Hope everyone is well.
Monday, April 21, 2008
We can discover this meaning in life in three different ways: by doing a deed; by experiencing a value; and by suffering.
~ Victor Frankl
The experience:
It's been a busy, busy, sleepless week here at Casa Crazy.
SarahJaneThePain had her second child. Shorter labor than the last, but it was a tough one and Floyd ended up making his healthy appearance via a c-section. Mama and baby are doing just fine, thank goodness, and Daisy is a proud, proud Aunt.
Next up...The deed:
Only me. I swear.
When they finally decided the c-section was going to happen, I knew I had an hour window of prep-time...which meant I could run home and let the pack out to potty. We hadn't been home in almost 12 hours, granted it was overnight, so they aren't used to pottying during that time anyway...but they are all on a serious wake-up-and-potty-first-thing-at-5am schedule. I thought for sure that since they were 3 hours past that point, that there might just be a mess or two to clean up, understandably so.
But nay...I have the best pack this side of the Mississippi.
It's like they knew there wouldn't be any time at all for that little scenario.
Because on the way home, I found this little girl (Ally) running around like a key-stone cop in the middle of an intersection, at the entrance to the highway.
Yep. As par the course, I was the idiot that demanded my ride slam on the brakes, so that I could dart into the middle of said intersection and hope like hell she was friendly and willing to accept some help.
She was.
She turned out to be an adorable, little Cockapoo.
I've never been around one, nor had the pleasure of seeing one up close and personal.
Seriously...the people that opted to combine these two breeds couldn't have come up with a better name than Cockapoo??
But ohhhhh...the long, curly, softest fur I've ever felt!
Since Casa Crazy was mess-free...this enabled me to quickly introduce her to each dog, which went smooth as new born babies butt (I had to go there, somewhere inside, I think you knew I would!)... because if I haven't said it already, I have the BEST PACK THIS SIDE OF THE MISSISSIPPI!
She had a collar but no tags.
WHY PEOPLE? WHHHHHYYYYYY???
A tag is $2.50 at most pet stores and it takes less than 10 minutes to make one...
So verily, I ask yet again...WHHHHHHHYYYYYY?
I was however, still hopeful of finding her rightful owners, as she had recently been trimmed and she didn't stink, hence she wasn't an outside only dog.
I didn't have time to worry about that though...so I left her playing with RolyPolyMoby and headed back for the hospital.
Later that afternoon, once home, I started calling the local vet offices in the city that I found her in, to give them a description of her and my phone number...first one I called, had a match for me of an owner that was calling around with her 'lost' information.
And as luck would have it, the owner actually lived about 4 minutes from me...so it was a short and sweet reunion and Daisy and I were finally off to la-la land after almost 30 hours of no sleep.
And finally, the sweet, sweet suffering:
This is Luanne and although her story starts off awful rocky, it has a very happy ending.
We have caves around here...caves that trucking businesses love to inhabit because the cost of cooling and heating is essentially little to nothing, among other reasons.
This little stray girl, found a way into one section of the local caves and had a fun time of setting off the business alarms at all hours of the day and night.
Seeing as how, after the third false alarm, most cities begin charging a fee...the owners of the trucking companies decided to give a $500 bonus to the trucker that was able to able to hit and/or catch and kill her.
::::insert insulting vulgar name-calling here::::
At this point, a secretary, was able to get ahold of her and drove her to the nearest vet office, who inturn, called me.
I've had her for about 2 months now...a little love, we bonded right off the bat.
Yeah...she got adopted this past weekend.
A wonderful, wonderful family with two young girls that will brush her and give her more love than I could have ever hoped for.
Bittersweet, this rescuing business is...but I'd rather be in it, than the trucking business.
I'd surely be in jail for killing someone, if the circumstances were different!
Incidentally...the secretary's name was Luanne;)
~ Victor Frankl
The experience:
It's been a busy, busy, sleepless week here at Casa Crazy.
SarahJaneThePain had her second child. Shorter labor than the last, but it was a tough one and Floyd ended up making his healthy appearance via a c-section. Mama and baby are doing just fine, thank goodness, and Daisy is a proud, proud Aunt.
Next up...The deed:
Only me. I swear.
When they finally decided the c-section was going to happen, I knew I had an hour window of prep-time...which meant I could run home and let the pack out to potty. We hadn't been home in almost 12 hours, granted it was overnight, so they aren't used to pottying during that time anyway...but they are all on a serious wake-up-and-potty-first-thing-at-5am schedule. I thought for sure that since they were 3 hours past that point, that there might just be a mess or two to clean up, understandably so.
But nay...I have the best pack this side of the Mississippi.
It's like they knew there wouldn't be any time at all for that little scenario.
Because on the way home, I found this little girl (Ally) running around like a key-stone cop in the middle of an intersection, at the entrance to the highway.
Yep. As par the course, I was the idiot that demanded my ride slam on the brakes, so that I could dart into the middle of said intersection and hope like hell she was friendly and willing to accept some help.
She was.
She turned out to be an adorable, little Cockapoo.
I've never been around one, nor had the pleasure of seeing one up close and personal.
Seriously...the people that opted to combine these two breeds couldn't have come up with a better name than Cockapoo??
But ohhhhh...the long, curly, softest fur I've ever felt!
Since Casa Crazy was mess-free...this enabled me to quickly introduce her to each dog, which went smooth as new born babies butt (I had to go there, somewhere inside, I think you knew I would!)... because if I haven't said it already, I have the BEST PACK THIS SIDE OF THE MISSISSIPPI!
She had a collar but no tags.
WHY PEOPLE? WHHHHHYYYYYY???
A tag is $2.50 at most pet stores and it takes less than 10 minutes to make one...
So verily, I ask yet again...WHHHHHHHYYYYYY?
I was however, still hopeful of finding her rightful owners, as she had recently been trimmed and she didn't stink, hence she wasn't an outside only dog.
I didn't have time to worry about that though...so I left her playing with RolyPolyMoby and headed back for the hospital.
Later that afternoon, once home, I started calling the local vet offices in the city that I found her in, to give them a description of her and my phone number...first one I called, had a match for me of an owner that was calling around with her 'lost' information.
And as luck would have it, the owner actually lived about 4 minutes from me...so it was a short and sweet reunion and Daisy and I were finally off to la-la land after almost 30 hours of no sleep.
And finally, the sweet, sweet suffering:
This is Luanne and although her story starts off awful rocky, it has a very happy ending.
We have caves around here...caves that trucking businesses love to inhabit because the cost of cooling and heating is essentially little to nothing, among other reasons.
This little stray girl, found a way into one section of the local caves and had a fun time of setting off the business alarms at all hours of the day and night.
Seeing as how, after the third false alarm, most cities begin charging a fee...the owners of the trucking companies decided to give a $500 bonus to the trucker that was able to able to hit and/or catch and kill her.
::::insert insulting vulgar name-calling here::::
At this point, a secretary, was able to get ahold of her and drove her to the nearest vet office, who inturn, called me.
I've had her for about 2 months now...a little love, we bonded right off the bat.
Yeah...she got adopted this past weekend.
A wonderful, wonderful family with two young girls that will brush her and give her more love than I could have ever hoped for.
Bittersweet, this rescuing business is...but I'd rather be in it, than the trucking business.
I'd surely be in jail for killing someone, if the circumstances were different!
Incidentally...the secretary's name was Luanne;)
Monday, April 14, 2008
There are days when I swear I could fly like an eagle
And dark desperate hours that nobody sees
My arms stretched triumphant on top of the mountain
My head in my hands...down on my knees
~ J. Bon Jovi, B. Falcon
Today, my arms are stretched out... although I'm not quite on top of a mountain.
Better than I have been lately though.
Main problem here as of late, is the purging of my belongings.
I love Spring Cleaning. Ya feel good after Spring Cleaning.
Sifting through things and deciding the fate of said things because you have to though, is a different story altogether.
It's been a good couple of days though since the entry on the old blog.
For one thing, I realized that Coco and I haven't had a date in quite some time.
And I get sexually frustrated quite easily, which just makes everything else worse.
At least it does in my world. lol.
Suffice it to say, that I'm not anymore.
Heh heh.
Which got me to thinking, of course, how much I miss the RammerHammer.
It's been a little over three months since we've been together.
And I miss everything about him, sexually and otherwise.
But sexually speaking, I miss him. All of him.
This long distance stuff sucks major ass.
And it will suck even worse if I'm unable to join him until September.
But I cannot think about that right now.
Yeah. I miss him baaaaaaaadddddddd!
The feel of him, the sound of his voice and breathing, the touch of him, touching him.
Oy.
Everything.
All of this, of course turned me on, which led to the above aforementioned well spent time with Coco...but it also got me to thinking about blow jobs.
Yep. Blowjobs.
Let's talk about 'em for a minute, shall we?
In the words of one of my favorite comedians, whose name, thanks to chemo brain, I cannot remember...but I digress...
Blowjobs.
---"They're why 40 year old men, date 20 year old girls...
Picture the blonde, bubble head, twisting her hair casually between her fingers, with empty eyes and an even emptier brain (even emptier, well that doesn't really make sense huh? Me thinks getting away from the Midwest, might improve my grammer...at least I hope it does!) saying, "Really? Everybody does it??...Okay."
"Meanwhile, the woman that's been married to the same man for 20 years or so, is just waiting for him to slither up to her, like the reptile he has become, and make that little request, just so she can say, "Fine. But you're mowing the lawn when we're through ya bastard!"---
Yeah, I remember hearing that on a HBO special during a 2am feeding, after Daisy was born and about pee'd my pants and woke up the neighbors because I laughed so hard and so long.
But that's not the point of all this.
What I realized... is that I missed giving blowjobs.
Back at the end of the S and I, blowjobs were scarce. I just didn't feel the same about him and thus giving him blowjobs. All the lying and cheating changed everything, and I remember just feeling degraded whenever I did...so they, or should I say *I*, began slacking off and I really didn't give a shit.
Then...when the RammerHammer and I got together, the first time, I fell back on the bed in dismay and yelled, "Sonofabitch!"
Which, of course, perplexed him and he accordingly asked what was wrong.
And me, being the blunt person I am, couldn't help but comment, "That I was shocked about what a substantially HUGE Schvanschtooker he has, although at that time I believe I used the word 'cock'...and as little as I am, I certainly didn't think I would be able to fit all of him...in my mouth. Which sucked (no pun intended) because I've been known to have the ability to suck a watermelon through a garden hose."
Thankfully, it turned out not to be an issue at all...which is why we hungrily christened the new bridge in Dubai...Blowjob Bridge;)
But yeah. Damn I miss him:(
Okay. Enough of that or I'm gonna start crying and it will ruin my pretty good day thus far.
Next up: Packing.
1) Since coming out of meno-pause and having the never-ending bleedfest that I'm having, I've come to two conclusions.
A) While in meno-pause, I didn't miss menstrual cycles and all that they entail...at...all.
B) I throughly enjoyed going commando 24/7, 7 days a week, for almost 2 years straight.
What do these two things have to do with packing you ask?
Well...I'm really glad that I didn't just ditch all my thong underware and now that I'm sifting and packing...for a girl that didn't wear PANTIES (That one's just for you Beej!) for almost two years straight...I have A LOT of freaking underware!!!!
2) Before really sifting through things, last week, I pulled out my two suitcases and packed them, as if I was leaving the very next day.
This is my process of packing.
I pack weeks in advance.
Then I wait awhile and go back through again and rethink what I can live with and without, for however long I'm going to be gone.
Then I do it a third time...at which point, it's usually time to really leave, thus the suitcase is substantially lighter.
I know. Lengthy and somewhat complicated process with what most will consider unnecessary extra steps...but it works for me.
And today, I had a BIG moment. One of which to be proud...
Okay...maybe only Random will be able to understand and be proud of me...
I actually removed not one...not two...but three pairs of shoes from one of my suitcases today and put them in one of the boxes to be mailed at a later date.
Yes.
Three pairs.
Yes.
This is HUGE for me.
You see...most airlines allow two suitcases and one carry-on. I'm probably going to end up taking 3 or 4 suitcases (depending on the garage-sale income) because I'm really paranoid about mailing stuff to other countries for fear of things being forever lost.
Hence, I figure two suitcases of clothes/shoes.
Okay...mostly shoes and then whatever clothes will fit.
Stop laughing.
And one suitcase of momento's and knick-knacks and little doo-dad thing of a ma-jiggers that are important to me and one suitcase full of pictures.
Yes. Pictures.
I am a picture taking fool and I just don't trust mailing all of my pictures, fearing that they will get ruined somehow or lost.
Go ahead. Have your A-Ha moment.
This is just one of the reasons that supports the name of my new blog!
Hope everyone is well;)
And dark desperate hours that nobody sees
My arms stretched triumphant on top of the mountain
My head in my hands...down on my knees
~ J. Bon Jovi, B. Falcon
Today, my arms are stretched out... although I'm not quite on top of a mountain.
Better than I have been lately though.
Main problem here as of late, is the purging of my belongings.
I love Spring Cleaning. Ya feel good after Spring Cleaning.
Sifting through things and deciding the fate of said things because you have to though, is a different story altogether.
It's been a good couple of days though since the entry on the old blog.
For one thing, I realized that Coco and I haven't had a date in quite some time.
And I get sexually frustrated quite easily, which just makes everything else worse.
At least it does in my world. lol.
Suffice it to say, that I'm not anymore.
Heh heh.
Which got me to thinking, of course, how much I miss the RammerHammer.
It's been a little over three months since we've been together.
And I miss everything about him, sexually and otherwise.
But sexually speaking, I miss him. All of him.
This long distance stuff sucks major ass.
And it will suck even worse if I'm unable to join him until September.
But I cannot think about that right now.
Yeah. I miss him baaaaaaaadddddddd!
The feel of him, the sound of his voice and breathing, the touch of him, touching him.
Oy.
Everything.
All of this, of course turned me on, which led to the above aforementioned well spent time with Coco...but it also got me to thinking about blow jobs.
Yep. Blowjobs.
Let's talk about 'em for a minute, shall we?
In the words of one of my favorite comedians, whose name, thanks to chemo brain, I cannot remember...but I digress...
Blowjobs.
---"They're why 40 year old men, date 20 year old girls...
Picture the blonde, bubble head, twisting her hair casually between her fingers, with empty eyes and an even emptier brain (even emptier, well that doesn't really make sense huh? Me thinks getting away from the Midwest, might improve my grammer...at least I hope it does!) saying, "Really? Everybody does it??...Okay."
"Meanwhile, the woman that's been married to the same man for 20 years or so, is just waiting for him to slither up to her, like the reptile he has become, and make that little request, just so she can say, "Fine. But you're mowing the lawn when we're through ya bastard!"---
Yeah, I remember hearing that on a HBO special during a 2am feeding, after Daisy was born and about pee'd my pants and woke up the neighbors because I laughed so hard and so long.
But that's not the point of all this.
What I realized... is that I missed giving blowjobs.
Back at the end of the S and I, blowjobs were scarce. I just didn't feel the same about him and thus giving him blowjobs. All the lying and cheating changed everything, and I remember just feeling degraded whenever I did...so they, or should I say *I*, began slacking off and I really didn't give a shit.
Then...when the RammerHammer and I got together, the first time, I fell back on the bed in dismay and yelled, "Sonofabitch!"
Which, of course, perplexed him and he accordingly asked what was wrong.
And me, being the blunt person I am, couldn't help but comment, "That I was shocked about what a substantially HUGE Schvanschtooker he has, although at that time I believe I used the word 'cock'...and as little as I am, I certainly didn't think I would be able to fit all of him...in my mouth. Which sucked (no pun intended) because I've been known to have the ability to suck a watermelon through a garden hose."
Thankfully, it turned out not to be an issue at all...which is why we hungrily christened the new bridge in Dubai...Blowjob Bridge;)
But yeah. Damn I miss him:(
Okay. Enough of that or I'm gonna start crying and it will ruin my pretty good day thus far.
Next up: Packing.
1) Since coming out of meno-pause and having the never-ending bleedfest that I'm having, I've come to two conclusions.
A) While in meno-pause, I didn't miss menstrual cycles and all that they entail...at...all.
B) I throughly enjoyed going commando 24/7, 7 days a week, for almost 2 years straight.
What do these two things have to do with packing you ask?
Well...I'm really glad that I didn't just ditch all my thong underware and now that I'm sifting and packing...for a girl that didn't wear PANTIES (That one's just for you Beej!) for almost two years straight...I have A LOT of freaking underware!!!!
2) Before really sifting through things, last week, I pulled out my two suitcases and packed them, as if I was leaving the very next day.
This is my process of packing.
I pack weeks in advance.
Then I wait awhile and go back through again and rethink what I can live with and without, for however long I'm going to be gone.
Then I do it a third time...at which point, it's usually time to really leave, thus the suitcase is substantially lighter.
I know. Lengthy and somewhat complicated process with what most will consider unnecessary extra steps...but it works for me.
And today, I had a BIG moment. One of which to be proud...
Okay...maybe only Random will be able to understand and be proud of me...
I actually removed not one...not two...but three pairs of shoes from one of my suitcases today and put them in one of the boxes to be mailed at a later date.
Yes.
Three pairs.
Yes.
This is HUGE for me.
You see...most airlines allow two suitcases and one carry-on. I'm probably going to end up taking 3 or 4 suitcases (depending on the garage-sale income) because I'm really paranoid about mailing stuff to other countries for fear of things being forever lost.
Hence, I figure two suitcases of clothes/shoes.
Okay...mostly shoes and then whatever clothes will fit.
Stop laughing.
And one suitcase of momento's and knick-knacks and little doo-dad thing of a ma-jiggers that are important to me and one suitcase full of pictures.
Yes. Pictures.
I am a picture taking fool and I just don't trust mailing all of my pictures, fearing that they will get ruined somehow or lost.
Go ahead. Have your A-Ha moment.
This is just one of the reasons that supports the name of my new blog!
Hope everyone is well;)
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