Valentine Schmalentine

Is anyone else bugged that February 10th through 14th flowers triple in price?

How about $65 for the smallest and most uncomfortable underwear imaginable all for a 2 minute “show”?

It took every ounce of gumpshion I could muster to make the kids Valentine’s this year. And this was my latest craft project:

Then there's the dilema about getting flowers at work. If everyone elses gets them you feel like a loser. When you feel like a loser you make him feel like one as well.

If he does send flowers the only thing you can think about is what a waste of money it is. You'd rather have him get you _________.

Happy Valentine’s Day! *sarcasm*

I am...

Well meaning friends often ask how I am doing. Most days there is not an easy answer for that. I am not sure how I am most of the time. I have become numb to my life.

Most nights I am fine with being holed up in my craft room until he passes out. Others I really want to veg in front of the tv. The problem with that is if I go where he is there will be interaction.

If he's in a good mood there is jovial interaction. If he's in a bad mood there is duck and cover interaction. There are only so many egg shells one can tip toe over before she just avoids the egg shells all together.

I guess that sums it up.... I am avoiding egg shells by hiding from a situation I have every ability to fix but choose not to.

Because I choose not I to, I feel it's unacceptable to unload yet again on the shoulders that are there for me. I know they have heard it all before and are as sick of it as I am. One day the story will change.

Until that day I will carry the burden I have chosen in silence with the exception of my musings here.

They call me grace for a reason

Winter has finally come. It was late this year and I can't say I was unhappy about the lingering fall weather. Especially yesterday when Winter decided to appear compete with a different kind of fall.

The stories of Fall:

Last fall I was ripping out the remains of my hosta's in the front yard. I was pushing the garbage can with the lid open in front of me. (Yes I can read and yes I NOW know why the garbage can says very clearly NOT to pull it with the lid open) That way I could push it as I went along making the job easier. It was working great until...

My foot caught the lid and down I went INTO the garbage can. This is where I am glad it tipped over and didn't rebound upright trapping me BUT was clearly mortified that I was IN my garbage can neck deep and upside down. There is no way in hell I could have gotten out if it were upright. I'm 4'11" and the can is taller than 4'11".

I am very certain my neighbors were laughing hysterically. I was laughing even though I knew I would be black and blue from the incident. Laughter which was amplified since the can was empty. Again blessing = empty garbage can.

What I didn't know that the next night I would trip and fall down the stairs in slow motion. One minute I was at the top of the stairs; then grabbing for the hand rail (DAMN THE ORANGE OIL) but not being able to get hold; then the tuck and roll to keep from getting hurt worse. You know since I was sore from the garbage can incident.

The Story Winter

This brings us to winter's competative side. I am hoping Winter is not all eye of the tiger, have to outdo Fall, crazy competative. You know the same way my sister was all Imma go to school and get my masters and show you. Because sometimes that thinking backfires. Right sister? Can you hear me over the 30 scraming kids in your class? I thought not.

Yesterday we made our monthly Costco run in the sleet. Not becuase I like Costco or sleet but because my dogs like their food. I mentioned how slick it was out there blah blah blah so you would understand completely. SHEET OF ICE. BY the time we got home I was not thinking about slick running boards covered in sleet. Nope. I was thinking about unicorns, and rainbows and such. Or more likely how much my dogs loved me because I went out into crap ass weather to provide food for them. Ok, not more likely. Go with the unicorns.

Because I was distracted by the unicorn my foot made contact with the running board for a nano second before it slid right off with my ass in hot pursuit. Literally. I slid out the door, down the side of the seat, and off the running board. Yes, I also slid all the way down to the ground until my ass made contact with slippery concrete.

The the door decided to jump in and close on my face. Ok my hand may have grabbed at it to help and pulled it into my face but let's not split hairs. It's my story and I say it was out get me. My face believes my version...

I am lucky there are not broken bones and actually not a bruise I could find. My lip however is another story. The inside looks like hamburger. The outside however is swollen and pouty. This may be the only time my lips can be considered voluptuous.

My hopes are that winter is content with being out done by fall and I can proceed with caution yet not covered in bubble wrap in anticipation.

Eggshells

For me, the worst part of living with an alcoholic is eggshells.  You find your self tip-toeing around.  Tip-toeing around the house or the conversation.  One wrong move and you’ll be just another idiot in a fight with a drunk.  The drunk always wins and not because he’s right but because you finally wise up and stop fighting.  You can stop being the idiot but the drunk has to sober up.  And good luck if he remembers what was said.
 
When The King’s on a binge you’ll find me in hiding.  If I stay out of the line of fire until he (passes out) falls asleep there is no arguing or mean things spewing from his mouth in my direction.  Plus I get amazing and creative things accomplished when I go to my happy place.  It’s nice there.  Pink clouds and happy music.  I’d invite you but being alone there is the best part.
 
The problem recently was the holidays.  If he’s “in his cup” I don’t like to go anywhere with him.  He’ll embarrass the cashier at the grocery store or say something that has the waitress looking at me with pleading eyes to help her.  
 
There are sometimes that taking him in public can’t be helped.  My Birthday for example.  How do I not take him to have the special cake my niece made me on my Birthday?  You would think it would be easy since the only thing I got was a “happy birthday” before he jumped “in his cup”.  No card, no flowers, nada, zip, zilch.  It should have been so easy to leave him home.  
 
But nope. I took him and he ruined my birthday and as a bonus my Sister’s as well.  I can take him coming at me with this drunk bullshit but NOT at the kids.  They know he was drinking but they are kids and they don’t know anything other than he’s not himself and he’s being mean to them.  It not only makes for a tough holiday season but was also the last straw for me.
 
Drunks are experts on EVERYTHING.  It is amazing how much smarter they become the more they drink.  What is strange is how there is scientific evidence that shows you lose brain cells when drinking.  And despite that drunk people are so much more superior in intelligence.  Odd….  This must be where the saying perception is everything came from.
 
In my mind I know he has a disease but in my heart I resent him for being too much of a coward to face his weakness and fix it.    It’s a constant battle to remember he doesn’t have control over it the way I think he does.  Especially when mean and hurtful things spew out of his mouth.
 
So as to not turn this blog into a pity party the next post will be full of happiness…