I did survive the holiday. I won't be posting until the start of 2006, however. Busy little beaver, I am. Look forward to seeing you all then.

100 Things About Me.

...and my ass is too!

I'm exhausted. I feel like I haven't been this tired in years. My daughter has the flu, and I'm heading into at least another 4 hours with a sick child before my relief arrives in the morning. Those 24 hours no-vomiting rules at daycare are dastardly things, aren't they?

Life is fine, for the moment. We're rushing head-first into Christmas, and I'm already feeling sad that the season will be over soon. I'm sensing the first inklings of holiday jitters coming from my big strong Bear, so I'm trying to take a few extra steps backwards and allow him the space he needs to cope however he needs to cope. I don't understand it, but I respect it. We can't all be exactly the same person with exactly the same issues, life would be outstandingly boring that way.

I got the great pre-Christmas news that my dad has to have heart surgery again. This would be intrusive surgery number two, and heart "fucking with" number five. I'll be happy to have his heart beat in a normal fashion again, like it did when I held my head to his chest when I was a little girl.

This is jumbled, but I'm just that tired. I haven't written about sex in a really long time, huh? Maybe that's because the last time I had sex I don't remember too well; that's what a couple of martinis will do to you. I promise, I'll take notes next time. Until then...


***
As a parting note...

A close friend had something traumatizing happen to her today. I'm not going to go into detail, but I just want her to know that I'm thinking about her and hoping that karma will work its way out. I'm really sorry for your loss.

6 inches of snow, a five minute drive turned into thirty and a negative windchill later, I'm exhausted. I had this huge entry planned out; Bear and I are talking about trying to be 24/7 on a trial basis. I can't help but feel like I'm bullying him into it a bit, because he seems to be a little too "go with the flow" with things. But we'll see. I just gotta have it that way. There is a sequence of codons in my DNA that is spelling out my need for submission. I'm tired of fighting it.

On an semi-related note - thanks for the advice, Jill. The fact that we care about the little things must mean we really love each other. I hadn't thought of it that way! :)

More tomorrow or Monday!

A few weeks ago, I re-established an account on Collar Me. There were profiles I wanted to view, forums I wanted to chat on, friends I wanted to make. I viewed it a few times, made a profile, then forgot about it until another friend of mine started an account on it yesterday. I mentioned it to Bear, gave him the link, and hard feelings and an argument ensued. I feel horrible for it, not because I started this account to find people to fuck or to cheat on him, but because something I did out of innocence and boredom came back to hurt his feelings and make him re-evaluate his relationship with me.

For some reason, our relationship is based entirely on incidents. Neither one of us is able to or capable of looking at the whole picture - it's always fine for the majority of the time until a single incident pulls the dress up on us. We can't look at this as water off a duck's back, it feels like so much more. He's hurt, I'm terrified. One incident, one misunderstanding, and he feels ready to call it off again while I cry myself to sleep. Why can't we see the bigger picture? Why can't we love each other enough to let little things go?

Friday, when Bear told the woman hitting on him at JCPenney that he had a girlfriend, she responded with "Want another one?".

Wow. Points for originality, 0. Points for total disregard, 10.

Best pick up line ever.

It's snowing outside, has been for hours now, and life is absolutely perfect in this moment. Bear is out Christmas shopping for me, calling every once in awhile to ask cryptic questions about fabrics and colors. He's bringing indian food over after that, and I'm thinking about asking if we can watch National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation (that and A Christmas Story are the epitome of the holiday season for me).

This morning, my daughter and I woke up bright and early. We got dressed in multiple layers and still succeeded in freezing our asses off watching the annual Christmas parade. We headed to our favorite local independent coffee store after that and drank mugs of hot chocolate (mine with peppermint, of course! Holiday season and all!) and cranberry almond scones.

1 o'clock brought a free showing of the Jim Carrey version of The Grinch That Stole Christmas.
Neither my daughter or I had seen it before, it definitely wasn't as good as the original. Nothing ever is, of course.

Bear took her Christmas shopping after that, which seemed to be an exhausting thing for him. She's determined to tell me what they bought, and I just don't want to know! Gone are the days when I would sneak into my mother's closet and open all my gifts. It's not that the surprise is that important to me, I enjoy the look on the giver's face much more than the actual gift. The expectation, the excitement, the nerves... the present couldn't possible top the intent behind the gift.

We ended the day with a story and some pottery. We listened to The Polar Express and I watched my daughter, tongue between her teeth, create a coffee mug. It was adorable - she's so precise and creative!

So I'm ending today full of mellowness. I'm going to try not to write much more sentimental crap, even I'm making myself a little ill. Let the sex, violence and darkness commence! ;) Kidding, of course, but I am going to try to pull myself more onto the middle road of literary creativity!

I miss you so much these days. It's not the usual understandable emotions from a woman who lives by herself, it's a deeper and more heartfelt loneliness from a woman who has lost so much.

I miss lying in bed with you, tangled in each other, while the snow fell softly outside our bedroom window. There was such childlike joy there, watching it coat the ground like a winter wonderland. We could watch it for hours, memorize the pattern of every snowflake and trace the trail it took from sky to ground. We took as much joy in that as we did in each other.

I miss cooking dinner for us, flour up and down my arms. It was the way you would pad in quietly barefoot and slip your arms around my waist that made me melt, pulling me closer to you and tipping my head back to steal a kiss. I felt so cherished in those moments, the picture of the adoring wife (someone I always knew I wanted to be).

I miss climbing into your lap when you were writing, snuggling up like a cherished pet on your lap while I tried not to get in your way. Just being there with you during the creative process, feeling the emotions pour out of you as you would write an update, filled me with such delusions of greatness. I felt like I could take on the world, there in your lap. Some of the best times in that apartment were spent with you in your office.

I said something jokingly on the phone last night, a Freudian slip. I said that I couldn't believe I "wanted" to marry you. Not want, wanted. I caught it in my head, and I don't think you caught it at all, but it's been rattling around in my brain ever since. I still want to marry you. I still want it just as surely as I did when you placed the ring on my finger a couple of years ago. My ring finger feels naked without it; there is a little piece of my heart having the ring on fills up. I do want to marry you, still. I do I do I do. I only hope I get a chance to say those words.

It did snow. :)