There are places

 

There are places

where clouds draw tourists

and millions and millions of stars grace the night.

There are places

where you wake up to birds chirping

and the only traffic you hear

is the tractors churning up the earth.

There are places

where women grow their hair long

and men’s arms turn red

while hanging out of the truck

because a rolled down window

is the only air conditioning you’ll ever need.

There are places

where the dust is more polluting than the smog.

Places where

the tress out grow the buildings

and the buildings out grow you.

Places where

the summers go on and on

and the country meets the sky.

Places where

you know every face

and strangers yield their right of way.

Places where a neighbor is family

and an open field

is a child’s favorite toy.

Places where

you can smell nature

and feel the sun.

Places where

every road, house, park, street corner

has a memory.

Places where

strangers smile,

men bow their hats,

open doors,

pull out chairs,

and call their wives ‘mamma.’

There are places

where the night is peaceful and silent.

The night harbors animal conversations.

The night is dark.

There are places where the county fair is the main event

and your best friend

is the greatest celebrity you know.

There are places

where tight jeans

and cowboy hats are welcomed

and men work hard.

There are places

where no one’s talking about war

but gossip fills the void.

There are places

where small minds run rapid

and you think your mother may just suffocate you.

There are places

where the football team defines you

and you wear their colors proudly.

There are places

where your dreams are vast

and the land is wild.

And there are days

where I can’t help but smile

because there are places like this.

I call them

small towns.

7 days

It took me 7 days to fall in love with my husband.

I think that is as realistic as ‘love at first sight’ is going to get. And to be honest, it was hardly the first time I had seen him. It wasn’t even the first time that I had talked to him or hung out with him. So I guess ‘love at first sight’ doesn’t really, actually apply here. And I believe that ‘love at first sight’ is pretty illogical anyway so I’m sorry I even brought it up.

Burny and I actually met in high school. I get asked that question all the time; ‘Where did you guys meet?’ When I say ‘high school’, people look surprised. And that surprises me. I heard a statistic once that most people already know the person they are going to marry by age 20. I heard that statistic when I was about 22 and I thought they were crazy. I just could not imagine marrying the guy I was dating when I was 22 and naturally when someone says that you already know the person you are going to marry, you assume it’s going to be the person you’re dating at that time. Well, I know I did. I don’t want to say I always assumed I would marry who I was dating, but I did often wonder if I would wind up with whoever the guy of the moment was at that particular moment. So when this person told me this statistic, I really hopped that they were wrong.

But guess what…

I do actually remember the first time I met my husband, and it’s kind of a funny story. I was dating LemonBass at the time, my high school sweetheart, and LB and I were sitting in the dark in the living room of his mother’s house and we were watching a scary movie. We had been dating for some time by that point so there was certainly no hanky panky going on. We were actually just watching the movie.

Que Burny’s entrance into my life.

Burny marched into the dark room, gave a rather strange look around, and curled up under a blanket on the other couch. Lemon and I looked at him expectantly, but he didn’t seem too concerned with giving us an explanation as to who he was or what he was doing, so we just went back to watching the movie in silence.

Come to find out later, that weird kid was one of Lemon’s brother’s friends who had been forced to smoke too much weed in the back yard.

Who could have ever guessed that so many years later I would have walked down the aisle towards that same kid? Certainly not me.

Burny was a year behind me in high school and he didn’t show up on the scene until my senior year, so our time in school together was limited. We weren’t what you would call friends, although I certainly thought very highly of him… once I got past the whole stoner thing. You could say that we knew OF each other. We had mutual friends. His best guy friends were my best guy friends, but I actually only have a few memories that include him.

One of which takes place at my high school graduation. A few weeks into our relationship, Burny and I just so happened to walk in on my sister and Mom watching home videos. The video that was up on the tv was of my graduation party. I was filming and I was scanning the back yard, commenting on all my crazy friends that were jumping around in the pool and all of a sudden… there was Burny. Right smack dab in the middle of a water fight with my step brother. I would never have remembered that he had come to my graduation party. Surely he was there not for me, but for our mutual friends who were also graduating that day. But seeing him on the video tape did bring back a very interesting memory…

Burny made out with my cousin that night. I remember my sister telling me all about it in the morning. I don’t think he will ever live that down. Life is really funny sometimes.

2 years later, after I had moved down to San Diego for college and had ended my relationship with LemonBass, I was home for Spring Break and a very close friend of both Burny and mine invited me out to see a band play. The band was called ‘Burn TACtics and the Loco Focos’. Maybe you’ve heard of it? 😉 Burny was the leading man of course, but I was mainly there in support of our mutual friends- aka the other band members.

But I have to tell you… I took notice of Burny for the first time that day. I leaned over to KayTown, who just so happened to be there with me and I told her that I was getting a major crush on the lead singer. What I was really saying to her was: Years from now, you are going to be a bridesmaid in our wedding. How strange.

After the show, I told their manager and close friend that if Burny ever broke up with his girlfriend- whom I knew he had been dating for years and definitely expected him to marry- he should give me a call! My friend told me that I had no chance. Apparently he expected Burny to stay with his girlfriend too. Little did he know that he too would be toasting at our wedding only a few short years later.

The next memory I have of Burny before I started my decent into love, happens to be a mere 6 months before our fated re-connection.

I was home for Christmas- home from San Diego that is- and  it was the night of my families annual Christmas party. If you have ever been to said Christmas party, you know that it is an epic time. Each year manages to trump the previous year and it’s greatly looked forward to by those who attend regularly. Needless to say, there is a lot of alcohol assumption going on. And this particular Christmas party was no exception.

Now, to be honest, my memory of this night varies somewhat drastically from Burny’s so let me just give you a quick run down of both.

My version goes like this:

I called one of Burny and my closest friends, PCharm. PCharm and I go WAY back. I have to say, PCharm is one of my oldest friends. I met him when I had just turned 5 years old and I’m proud to say that he was in our wedding. (That’s the cool thing about small towns). I also have to say that at this time, PCharm and I were somewhat… complicated. (That’s the weird thing about small towns). So when I called him to leave a message, I never would have expected that Burny would be the one to call me back. But alas, he did.

I remember having a brief conversation with Burny which went as follows:

Me: Come on over if you want, we are still partying.

Burny: Okay. We will try to stop by.

Granted, I do remember being a little bit excited that Burny was calling me. As I mentioned, I had always thought very highly of him. I knew he was an amazing guy. To this day, I’ve never heard anyone say a bad thing about him and at the time, he and I had never really had a very direct conversation so I was a bit flustered. And I will also admit that I had been drinking and that I am naturally a flirt. But I am pretty sure Burny is exaggerating in his version, which goes something like this:

Burny: Hey there… Is the party still going on?

Me: Yes. You should come over here and have sex with me.

That hardly sounds like me!!

Burny didn’t make it to the party that night. I wonder how my  life would be different now if he would have. What would be different between us? Would we still be together? Would we have ever started dating at all? Clearly,  it wasn’t our time quite yet…

That Christmas was the last Christmas I called San Diego my home. I moved back to Northern California the following June. I think I always knew that I was not going to spend my life in San Diego, however, it ripped my heart out to leave. When I graduated college, the plan was for me to move back home with my mom. But then I met Sinkin’ Ship and my plans changed. After my going away party, I changed my  mind and I stayed in San Diego.

After Sinkin’ Ship and I broke up for the last time, I put my tail between my legs and decided that the time had come at last for me to leave the beautiful San Diego weather. After my second going away party, MacTen convinced me that my place was still in SoCal. I moved into her dinning room and stayed. I just couldn’t make myself leave. It wasn’t time… Fate was working it’s magic.

Burny and I talk all the time about how timing has EVERYTHING to do with us getting together. If I would have moved home either of those first two times, we probably wouldn’t have reconnected. And if I had decided to stay in San Diego any longer than I had… he would have gone into the military and I would have probably never spoken to him.

But alas…

The third time I decided to move home from San Diego came along side my third trip to Europe. I had been toying with the idea that perhaps it was time for me to just bite the bullet and go home to pay off some debt before returning to San Diego of course. When I bought my third round trip plane ticket to Europe on a charge card I decided that that trip was going to be my last irresponsible action. I went to Europe in April and moved home in June. They say the third times a charm… but I wasn’t so sure. By the time I had my third going away party, my friends were kind of wondering if maybe I just had a drinking problem and needed an excuse to throw parties. I had cried wolf so many times that no one believed I would actually go… but I drove a uhaul up the state of California for the last time that year.

It was a Tuesday.

I had been home in Northen California all of one day. I was unpacked. I was miserable.

The ONLY thing that I was looking forward to was Friday. Why?

About a month before moving home, fate made another appearance in the way of facebook. Guess who popped up in the ‘people you may know’ section?

Burn TACtics.

Apparently my sister had recently befriended him and so facebook decided that perhaps I would also enjoy being his friend as well. Of course facebook knows all! When I went to click on his picture, an amazing thing happened… I noticed that his picture wasn’t a picture at all. It was an album cover! And I wasn’t excited because he had made it to the big time… I was excited because the album was entitled: Goodbye Emily Jane.

Goodbye Emily Jane????

That could only mean one thing! He was single! Everyone knew that his high school sweetheart and all around perfect girlfriend was named Emily Jane. Now was my chance!!

And PS… clearly, up until this moment I thought that he was still in a relationship and so I would never in a million years have been so flirtatious and forward the previous Christmas, knowing full well that he was off the market. But that’s neither here nor there.

I made my move.

I messaged him.

I told him that I was moving home and that we should hang out sometime. I made up some sob story about not having any friends back home and so he should feel sorry for me. I, of course, suggested we hang out the first Saturday that I would be home- many of my friends had agreed to go out that night already- but he had a wedding to go to that night. So, like the gentleman that he is, he suggested an alternative night. He suggested we go get a drink on Friday, the night before the wedding.

Perfect.

So as I said, the only thing that kept me from moving straight back down to San Diego that first week, was my ‘kind of’ date on Friday night with my future husband.

And I mean that 100%. Fate is a tricky thing. I really believe that if it weren’t for something potentially exciting in Woodland-aka a boy- I would have packed my car right back up and moved right back down to SoCal.

When Friday came around, I took the chicken way out and I decided to text message Burny. I have never been much of a phone person and I feel like texting just seems more casual. So I text him to see if we were still on for that night.

He called me right back. Like… RIGHT back.

And of course I didn’t answer. I was totally freaking out. I just sat there and watched the phone ring, thinking of some dumb excuse as to why I hadn’t been able to answer the phone that had clearly just been in my hand about 1/2 second before.

After laying by the pool with my newly re-established, oldest friend, Lark- I called Burny back and told him that I had jumped in the shower and had missed his call. LIES! He confirmed our plans, we set a time and a place, and now all there was left to do was wait.

I talked Lark into coming with me on my casual meet up as my wing man. She had just gotten married not even a month before that and we joked that maybe Burny and I would end up hitting it off and getting married ourselves. Life is just really really funny.

Burny and I met up later that night at a little place called Morrison’s. We exchanged hugs like we were old friends, but really, we weren’t. We weren’t friends meeting up to talk about old times… but since we had both brought along friends, we weren’t exactly on a date either… the boundaries were fuzzy right from the get go.

But I remember having a really great time that night. We talked about break ups and high school friends. We talked about San Diego and Europe. We basically just talked for the first time in any sort of real way. And I really liked him. I knew that right away. However, being that I was such a recent transplant from San Diego, I was still so used to the ‘straight to sex’ type of bar conversation. So I wasn’t sure if Burny was even interested in me in that way at all. He was being respectful and friendly and sweet… which were three completely foreign concepts to me at the time. Unfortunately, I had truly begun to associate my self worth with whether or not I thought the guy that I was talking to wanted to sleep with me. I’m glad I got out of San Diego when I did… imagine the giant mess I would have become if I would have stayed.

Either way, after the bar, Burny and I headed over to a friend’s house to continue chatting. We hadn’t had much to drink at the bar- which again, was a new idea for me- and so when we left for our second location, we both felt perfectly safe and ready to leave our wingmen behind.

That night, I am sad to say, Burny and I paid homage to our very first meeting all those years before. Burny and I smoked weed together. Gross, I know. Trust me, I hate that about our first date… but I guess it all happened for a reason. Because up until I smoked, I knew I was really winning Burny over with my charm. After I was high, all I could think about was how dumb I was acting. Needless to say, if we hadn’t have gotten high together that first night, we wouldn’t have addressed the fact that neither of us wanted to smoke weed ever again. And quite frankly, if we hadn’t have had that conversation, we probably would have broken up. I knew that he had smoked a lot in the past, and I also knew that I wasn’t ready to be dating a stoner… and so the conversation presented itself very early on, which looking back… was a blessing.

So anyway… we hung out until 4:30 am that first night. We didn’t kiss. We just talked. But I walked away a little more committed to staying in Woodland than I would have liked.

That was day one. We made plans to go on a hike the following Monday.

Day two: Saturday.

Burny had a wedding to go to. He had invited me to come with him as his date, but I had already made plans with the rest of my friends to go out on the town in honor of my return. But I knew it was already too late for me; I would have much rather have gone to that wedding with Burny than anywhere else with my friends. But alas, it was not meant to happen that way.

Before the wedding, Burny called me just to say hello. I thought that was very sweet and I appreciated that he wasn’t a game player and didn’t think that he had to wait any certain amount of time to call me because guys,… girls hate it when you do that! But even still… despite the great night, the invite to the wedding, and the phone call… I wasn’t so sure that Burny was interested in anything more than friendship.

That night out at the bars, I found myself in somewhat of a predicament: I had been left behind by my friends. I have to say, it’s not the first time that it’s happened to me, but it is the first time that I literally had no one to come and rescue me. I tried to call Burny, which is a HUGE sign that I was already in too deep with him, but he text me to say that he was drunk and was unable to drive.

I figured it out, don’t worry readers… I always do. I found my way safely back home without making TOO many bad decisions.

But anyway, the next morning when I woke up, I already had a voice message from Burny. He was checking on me to make sure that I had found my way home safely. I decided that I was not going to be afraid of the phone, and I gave him a call back instead of texting. You should be proud of me!

I asked him if he would like to come over to go swimming. He agreed. We both invited friends over and we made a day of it. Again, I found myself a little concerned that I was breaking all of my rules and I was going to get myself attached… but I figured that I had had my heart broken before and I could probably stand to have it broken again if he just wanted to be friends in the end. What the hell!

But just for good measure, when I hung up the phone, I looked at my Mother and asked her:

‘Are you ready to meet your future son-in-law?’

It’s frightening, I know.

Burny stayed for dinner that night. Non-date number 2 and he was already meeting the folks. I’ll never forget sitting across the table from him as he talked with my mom and step dad. My mom kept shooting me these looks like she was trying to say: Don’t screw this one up! It goes without saying that I had never brought home anyone even remotely close to Burny. He was just in a class all by himself. I mean, I wasn’t worried about him meeting my parents. I knew he would impress them. But I found myself even more impressed by him because of how actually IMPRESSIVE he was. And to be honest, it was really starting to freak me the hell out…

What if he really did just want to be friends? For some reason, I just could not get that out of my head. But I had no choice but to continue to fall for him. There was no turning back.

After dinner, Burny and I got back in the hot tub. He sat on one side and I sat on the other side and we talked. No hanky panky. We just talked about everything. I can’t even remember it all, but we just couldn’t seem to be silent. There was too much to know.

After the spa, we laid in our wet clothes on the floor of my mother’s living room.  We were both wrapped in towels, our heads propped up on pillows, and we talked some more. Burny kept telling me that I had these ‘looks’ as he called them. He told me he was trying to learn them all. And each time he noticed a new ‘look’ he would point it out to me. He told me I was beautiful. He told me that I had the face to be in movies, which by that point he knew was my dream. But he didn’t kiss me. He didn’t even touch me.

When he left, it was 4:30 in the morning again. We hugged goodbye.

That was day three.

Day four: Monday. Our hike!

Remember? On Friday night we had planned to meet up Monday and go on a hike. We hadn’t planned to see each other on Sunday and so now that we had, Monday definitely felt more like a date than I think either of us had really intended it to be. It was the first time that we would actually be alone from start to finish, on purpose. I was pretty confident that if we were going to cross over into the dating category, we would need to have our first kiss on this, our third non-date.

He came over to pick me up around 10am, only 5 1/2 hours after he had left my house. We hugged good morning, but there was no kiss. We made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and hopped in the car. He knew where we were headed. He had a plan… I could only hope his plan included him busting a move. I’ve never been one for sober move busting and since I knew we had not packed any BudLight… it was going to be all up to him.

We had discussed hiking at length on Friday. He asked me what I was most looking forward to doing now that I was back home and my answer was hiking and camping. It’s true that I love the outdoors, but it’s also true that I’m a girl and I need to take things slow. When we agreed to hike on Monday, we also agreed to hike something mild and relatively easy. I hadn’t been doing much hiking down in San Diego.

He said he knew just the place.

It didn’t take me long to realize that his ‘mild and relatively easy’ was a LOT different than mine. OH MY GOD! I thought I was going to die. It didn’t help that the temperature was a ripe 109 degrees, or that the trail he had planned for us to take was now under water. He hadn’t accounted for the snow melt.

So as he tried to figure out a way for us to get to this magical location that he said we could hike to, have lunch, and return from all within about two hours… I did my very best to keep my mouth shut. I had said that I was an outdoorsy girl and I knew for a FACT that he was a very outdoorsy guy and so the last thing I wanted to do was complain. As a matter of fact, the last thing I wanted to do was talk… I was so out of breath from the incline of the trail that I knew if I were to talk, my breathing would have given me away as a rookie in no time! I was so embarrassed.

About 30 minutes into the hike, we found ourselves hiking along what I can only describe as a cliff side. We were walking along the cliff parallel to the steam below us. The ground was like quick sand. Every step I took filled my tennis shoes with dirt, and sent me sliding just a little bit further down the cliff face. I was grabbing on to bushes and trees and dirt and logs… whatever would keep me from sliding down the hill and/or falling on my ass. I had so many splinters in my hands and my shoes were so full of rocks that I thought I would never get through the day without crying. But Burny was moving so quickly that it was all I could do to keep up.

We weren’t talking to each other and I wasn’t quite sure why that was. I knew that I was too out of breath and too pissed to talk, but I wasn’t sure why he was so quiet. I figured he was either annoyed at my slow pace or best case scenario, out of breath himself. I never dreamed that he was actually thinking the exact same thing I was:

‘If we don’t quit soon… I’m never going on another date with this person again.’

I of course meant that I would rather not date this amazing guy if it meant that I would have to be subjected to this on a regular basis.

And of course he knew that if he didn’t abort mission, and abort it quick… I was never going to agree to see him again.

So true.

Alas, as we approached the 1 hour mark, Burny turned to me and said:

“This is not going as planned. Do you want to just go back to your house and get in the pool?”

Sweeter words I had never heard.

Relationship saved.

As we headed back to the car, the flood gates opened. We both started complaining and laughing openly about our disastrous first hike. He agreed that he was just miserable and he commended me on making it so far without saying a word. I promised him that it had not been easy.

As it turned out, during the entire hour hike, we hadn’t made it more than 100 yards away from the car.

And furthermore… about 6 months later, we attempted the same hike again. It took us 2 hours to hike in, we spent the night where Burny had intended for us to just have lunch, and then we hiked back out the following morning.

I have no idea what he was thinking.

Back at my house that afternoon, Burny and I picked up on our conversation where we had left off the days before. It felt like we just had so much to say to each other. We just couldn’t know enough or share enough. I was just hungry for information. I wanted to know everything about him. I couldn’t get enough of it. And it seemed like he felt the same way, although we maintained our pattern of no kissing, no touching, no sitting next to each other… just talking. Just words. But there was something there… or so I thought. I hoped.

It was on that day that I realized that I wanted to marry him.

I had already decided that I wanted to date him; be his girlfriend. Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I want that? He was perfect to me. He was attractive, he was kind, he was a gentleman, he was well spoken and intelligent, he was interesting and interested, he was real. He was honest. And I wanted him to be mine. But it was in that pool on that Monday that I realized I wanted him to be my husband.

I asked him what the most important thing in the world was to him.

His answer?

Becoming a father.

I just knew. I knew in that moment that he wasn’t like anyone else I had ever met, let alone dated. He was different. He was so different. And I knew that if he would have me, I was going to marry him.

They say ‘when you know, you know.’

Day five.

Tuesday.

I didn’t have a job yet. I had just moved home the week before and although I was supposed to be job searching, my new infatuation was completely interfering with the rest of my life. I basically lived to talk with Burny. And Tuesday I woke up in a little bit of a panic…

Tuesday was the first day that I didn’t already have plans with Burny!

Friday was the drinks, Saturday he had the wedding, Sunday I had a reason to call him first thing, Monday the hike… and then TUESDAY! Crap! Nothing. No reason to call, no plans to see each other. It was torture, I assure you.

When we first starting going on our non-dates, Burny was working for his dad which meant that his schedule pretty much worked around what he had going on. However, because he had taken Monday off entirely for our horrendous hike, I knew that he was going to have to put in some extra time on Tuesday to catch up. So I came to the very difficult decision that I was going to just have to wait until he called me.

Although I was completely worried that Burny only thought of me as a friend, I was pretty sure that he was going to call. If nothing else, I was very confident that he at least enjoyed spending time with me. If we weren’t going to end up in a relationship, surely I was going to be the best friend that everyone knew was really in love with him.

Burny didn’t call until nearly 5 o’clock, which in hindsight, was a perfectly normal time to call. He said he had just finished work and that his family was expecting a family friend for dinner. My heart dropped. Did that mean…

“I won’t be able to do anything tonight, but we should meet up tomorrow.”

Devastated.

I have to be honest, I was truly heart-broken that I wouldn’t be able to see him. I mean, it was only going to be one night but I felt like it might as well have been a year. Burny had already become my addiction and now he was just asking me to quit cold turkey. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with myself.

Up until our first night out for drinks, only five days previous, all I had been doing was thinking about San Diego and how stupid I had been to move home. Now, after Burny, all I could think about was him. I had been in deep water before, but never quite like that.

I called my sister that night and I told her that I THOUGHT I was dating Burn TACtics. She knew who he was, of course, from high school and she was more than pleased, although she did find it hysterical that I managed to get myself anchored to Woodland in less than a week. It was no secret that my previous string of boyfriends had been less than tolerable. Burny was a giant LEAP in the right direction. I could tell that she was excited for me, but I just couldn’t seem to convey to her just how excited I was!

I told her all about our non-dates and how badly the hike had gone. And then I told her:

“If he likes me… I’m going to marry him.”

I could hear the smile in her voice, but I don’t think she realized how completely serious I was. I knew that if he and I ended up together, I would be off the market for good. But I just couldn’t seem to figure out whether or not he really liked me… or just liked being around me.

I analyzed the situation with LoDown over the phone as well that night. She was scheduled to come up for a visit that Thursday- only a few days away- and so I was hoping that I could introduce him to her and she could help me shed some light on the situation. She said she was pretty convinced, based on the evidence thus far, that he did actually really like me, but I just wasn’t ready to come to that conclusion.

It just felt like that would be too good to be true. People like Burny didn’t like people like me. I wasn’t lucky like that…

By the time Wednesday night came around, I was chomping at the bit to see Burny.

It was the sixth day.

He came right over after work and we sat on the couch upstairs and talked for 8 hours straight. We came down for dinner of course, and enjoyed another lovely meal with my family, but we returned to the upstairs couch to continue our riveting conversation. Like I said, I cant’ remember all the juicy details about what we found to talk about for all of those hours in those first six days, but I do remember that on that Wednesday he told me that he had missed me the day before. One day apart and he missed me. I was sure that was a good sign, but we were still sitting on opposite sides of the couches, with our feet touching in the middle. If he did like me so much… where were all the moves? If someone didn’t do something quick… we were going to turn into Mormons right there on the spot. Poof!

There was one other fairly major sign that night, that he really did like me in that way…

As we were chatting on the couch, I mentioned that my good friend LoDown was going to be coming to town the following day. I told him that we should all go out and that I was very excited for him to meet her and vice versa.

And would you believe it… in all that talking, Burny had failed to even mention to me the fact that Thursday morning he was scheduled to go down to Irvine with his family to watch his sister graduate college. All those hours of talking and the topic of ‘what are you up to this weekend?’ never made its way into the conversation.

I was shocked and completely bummed! I was so excited at the thought of one of my closest friends from San Diego, mixing in with my new reason for staying in Woodland. Not to mention, I desperately needed her to tell me that he liked me for real.

How was that going to happen if Burny wasn’t even going to be around? TERRIBLE!!

I guess my disappointment was pretty obvious because Burny took quick action. He made a quick call to his dad, jumped on the internet and BOUGHT A PLANE TICKET for Friday morning to fly down and meet his family in Irvine. Just like that. He actually purchased a $150 plane ticket just so that he could stay in Woodland an extra night to meet my friend.

I mean, I was pretty convinced by this point… but I just couldn’t be sure if he was really into me. I didn’t want to assume. You know what they say about assuming!! And besides, this grand gesture could still be interpreted as him just really liking to be around me. I mean, come on, I’m a good time.

But after all, we did make it the rest of the night (until 4am again) without even a goodbye kiss.

It was getting pretty ridiculous. I had already begun planning our wedding day and he hadn’t even reached for my hand under a blanket. And now, looking back, I think that the speed that our relationship picked up once we actually realized we were in one, directly correlates to how slowly I felt that we moved at the very beginning.

Day seven…

Three years and five months ago to this day (I started this blog on the 15th)…

LoDown came up for her visit. I quickly explained to her that Burny had purchased a plane ticket so that he could stay in town an extra night to hang out with us. She nearly smacked me in the head. LD felt that it was becoming painfully obvious that he liked me, but again, I just couldn’t be sure.

So that afternoon, while LD and I were out and about, we stopped by his house to say hello. He was very friendly towards LD, making an amazing first impression, and because he just so happened to be playing guitar when we stopped by… I got to hear him play for the very first time that day.

Well… that’s not entirely true. I had heard him play live that one time so many years ago… and I had heard all three of his albums… but I had never heard him play just for me.

He played ‘Long Goodbyes.’ If you are a fan and know the song, you know that it has a lot of cuss words in it and it goes so quickly that you have to struggle to make out the words and in a nut shell, it’s about ‘assholes and whores.’

To this day I have no idea why he chose that as his first song for me to hear him play…

He was very nervous, which I took as a sign that he really cared about what I thought. But of course it could have been because LD was there too. I didn’t want to get cocky. He didn’t look at me the entire time he played. But I was looking at him…

LD and I left and went about our business for the rest of the day. We gathered up a group of people and decided to make our little night out, a big deal. As LD and I were getting ready to go pick up Burny, I told her that I was going to get a little liquid courage under my belt and I was going to make a move! The time had come. I had stacked up enough evidence to convince myself that he wouldn’t turn away if I went in for the kiss and so I decided that tonight was the night! I was going to make this non-dating thing… a real thing.

And so we went out. To Morrison’s. It had been almost one full week and we were returning to the scene of the crime. I figured that this would be the perfect time to make my move. It almost felt serendipitous. Like we had come full circle or something romantic like that. But of course… I just couldn’t get enough beer in me fast enough.

We had a great time…

But I just couldn’t work up the nerve…

So we headed to the next bar…

Kenny’s! Lucky for me, Kenny’s had BudLight too!!

And Karaoke:

So with a little bit more of that liquid courage running through my body, I asked Burny to marry me.

I kid you not. I used those exact words. I asked him to marry me.

I was flirting of course, but I think he could see the seriousness in my eyes because he laughed at me. He laughed!

I asked him again and he said no. He just flat out denied me. I was crushed.

I couldn’t believe he said no. I mean… at least flirt back and say yes. But no… he just wasn’t that into me. But he did reach for my hand and then before I knew what was happening to me, he had pulled me onto the dance floor. Yes… at Kenny’s. Where there is no dance floor.

I was obviously embarrassed, one. Crushed that he had not accepted my proposal, two. And three… too drunk to dance.

We left shortly there after and headed home. The night just wasn’t quite working out how I had planned.

Burny got LD and I a cab home, but I told him that he should probably just come back to my house with us. I had promised him a ride to the air port in the morning and so I figured that we could at least salvage the night by having one of our all night chats. If he didn’t want to marry me, I was still totally open to the ‘friend’ category in hopes that I could eventually sway him in my direction over time.

He agreed to come back to my place.

Now let me please point out to those of you who think you know where this story is headed… WE HAVE NOT EVEN KISSED YET, he has turned down my proposal, and the fact that he is at my house late into the night has not exactly been unfounded before this point! Keep your minds out of the gutter!

So while we are in the cab… LD and I in the backseat and Burny in the front…

I decide that I am going to text message Burny… even though he is literally two feet away from me…

Hey… I was feeling a little disheartened after the denial earlier and although I was not completely ready to give up, I was still feeling shy.

I text him:

I have a crush on you.

I heard his phone go off. I saw him pull it out of his pocket, look at it, and put it away again.

He didn’t look over the seat and give me a look. He didn’t text me back. Nothing.

Strike two!

When we got home, the three of us sat on the floor of my kitchen and ate the taco bell that we had paid the cab driver to take us to go get. After taco bell, I stormed up to my room in protest. LD and Burny followed, and they both crawled in bed with me.

Please people!! This is not going where it seems to be going! This is the first time that Burny had even seen the inside of my room!!!  It was perfectly innocent.

So I was laying in the middle of my great friend LD and the future love of my life, Burny. We were quietly pretending to go to sleep when I decided to make one last-ditch effort at a love connection.

I LOUDLY whispered:

“Lo!!”

Lo answered back with a giggle and a ‘what?’

“I really like this guy… what should I do?”

Lo giggled again, but I felt Burny smile on the other side of me. I could hear his head moving on the pillow in the dark.

“I think you should kiss him,” LD suggested.

“What if he’s a bad kisser?” It was a legit concern. I mean, he was wonderful in every other way… how could he possibly be any good at kissing?

“You should still try it out and see,” LD urged again.

And so I did.

I made the move. I kissed him. And I assure you, he was a perfectly wonderful kisser. I even went so far as to give the results of the kiss to LD, who was still waiting on the other side of me for a full report.

Don’t worry… Burny and I went back out onto the landing and left LD alone to go to sleep. We didn’t put her through the awkwardness of hearing us making out for long. But before we left the room, I made sure to make one thing abundantly clear to Burny:

“I want you…” I started, unsure of how exactly to phrase what I wanted to say and yet, pretty sure I was off to the wrong start…

…”But I want to be your girlfriend.”

Burny smiled again and kissed me. It felt like we had been waiting years for that first kiss…

“Okay,” he said…

“Starting now.”

And so it was. We were boyfriend and girlfriend. It was the easiest relationship I’ve ever gotten myself into. No games, no gimmicks. Just pure excitement and honest intentions. And just as I had anticipated, I’ve never returned to ‘the market’ since that night. Exactly one year and one day later… I became his wife.

My wedding vows:

Thomas-

Four days after our first date, I said to my sister and my Maid of Honor, “If this guy actually likes me, I’m going to marry him.”

Six days after our first date… I asked you to marry me. You laughed at me and said no. But later that same night I tried a different approach and said: “I want to be your girlfriend.”

You didn’t say no and you didn’t laugh. You said: “Starting now.”

Today, almost two years to the day of that first date, I ask you again: Please marry me, because I want to be your wife. Starting now.

Falling in love with you has been the easiest thing that I’ve ever done. And I have only just begun to know what it is to love you. I never dreamed love could be like this. You have made me believe that I deserve love like this.

Loving you has never been the question; it’s always been the answer. The answer to my dreams, to my prayers and to every other question in my heart.

Thomas, you have shown me that romance is in the jokes and in the mishaps, and wrong turns, and even way out in the wilderness. Romance doesn’t have to be a preconceived notion. I know love isn’t perfect. But you have given me romance. And you have given me love.

You have taught me that it is okay to rewrite the old fairy tale, to find my own happily ever after. Who knew that a small town country boy, with a gun and a guitar would turn out to be my Prince Charming?

But most importantly, you remind me everyday that love is a journey not a destination. It’s hard and rough and sometimes we get lost, but as long as we have each other, we will find the right path for us. This is our journey, Thomas. Starting now.

You are the best man, the best friend, the best partner that I could ever hope to find. And I promise before God and our friends and family that I will work everyday to be a better woman, a better friend, and a better partner for you.

I love you with all of me.

I will always stand by you, Thomas, no matter what our happily ever after brings. Through hard and harder times, through children and grandchildren, through life and through death, I will be there with you.

I will be the one to hold your hand. Forever.

Thank you for loving me, Thomas. I will make you glad everyday that you do.

You sent me this quote in a text message the night you graduated basic training and it really sums it all up: Love never gives up and its faith hope and patience never fail.

 

 

Our original witnesses:

Old, old wooden ship

So it’s official.

I’m old.

I knew 27 was going to be borderline… I mean, I’m now in my late twenties. It’s funny how that works. 20-23, you are in your early twenties. 24-26 are mid and then starting with 27… you’re in your late twenties. There is no MID about 27. I mean, we might as well just round-up and call ourselves pre-thirty.

To be honest, although I joke that I’m getting old, I hadn’t really given it TOO much thought until the world started throwing it in my face! All of the sudden it’s as if the world is telling me to run inside and get a face lift! I mean, lately I’m hung over no matter what I do. I get tired before 2am. I find myself in pj’s on Saturday nights. I hardly make any reckless decisions… it’s just like “ok world… I see what you’re trying to say!”

But before I go into that, I have to say that there is one un-ignorable ‘clock’ that has been ticking away, louder and louder each year, since about age 24, but I am hoping to quite that down here soon enough. And yet something tells me, even when I do become a mother… I’m not going to feel any younger.

But regardless…

The first time I knew I was officially getting old was back in Texas. I kind of talked about this in my Sept. 11th blog but it bares repeating. When Burny was in tech school in San Angelo, you can imagine that it was flooded with 18-year-old kids, fresh out of high school. Burny and I were in our mid twenties still at that point, so we were the old kids on the block. I mean, it was really a struggle to think of what to do with people who couldn’t go to bars. What did I used to do? I couldn’t think of a single thing!

It was during a conversation with these underage kids that I realized, they were in 6th grade when Sept. 11th happened. They could hardly remember it! I was in college. If that doesn’t make you feel like you are in a whole different generation, I don’t know what will.

A while after we moved home from Texas, I performed in the musical: The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. I was actually asked to join the chorus after casting because they were short on voices so when I went to the first reading, I was painfully aware of that fact that I was going to fall into a weird age bracket.

There were the 15-year-old, high school kids playing Tom Sawyer, and his friends. There were the adults in their 50’s cast to play the parents of said kids… and then there was me. The twenty something who didn’t fit in either group. Too old to be a kid… to young to be old.

I sat down next to a girl who seemed to have found herself in the same predicament. She was quietly sitting on her own and she looked to be about my same age. I was relieved to see that I wouldn’t be the only one feeling out of place.

As we began to read through the script, I struck up a bit of a whispered conversation between myself and the twenty something next to me. We were both chorus so we didn’t have any lines. We were just there for looks basically.

About half way through the reading I realized that the story line in the play was strikingly similar to the movie plot of the 1990’s film: Tom and Huck.

I leaned over to share my findings with my new, twenty something friend. I said, “This play is exactly like the movie ‘Tom and Huck’.”

“What movie?” she asked.

Clearly she just hadn’t heard me. ‘Tom and Huck’ was a pretty well-known movie when I was in jr. high school. Namely because of its leading actor: Jonathan Taylor Thomas.

I leaned back into her and said, “‘Tom and Huck’ with JTT!”

And then she said something that just BRANDED my age so plainly across my forehead that I could feel the burn…

“Who is JTT?”

Say WHAT?

Who is JTT??? Come on! I mean, how do you describe who JTT is without a BOP magazine for evidence. I have to admit that it did occur to me at that point that BOP magazine likely no longer existed, and that didn’t help my cause much.

I said his full name to her in one final hope for recognition but it was clear to me. She wasn’t my age at all. There was just no possible way.

“He was in Home Improvement,” I tried…

Still nothing. Not one ounce of recognition in her face. Not even for ‘Tim the Tool Man Taylor.’

Finally, after a few minutes of consideration she came back and slapped me in the face again…

“I think I’ve seen re-runs of that show. Which one is JTT?”

I just left it alone. I couldn’t explain it. There was no point. I asked her age. 17. Sigh. She looked so mature…

The final blow came just the other night. I mean, there have been several ‘you’re getting old’ moments in my life since turning 25, but this one the other night really sealed the deal. I believe it’s official now and I’m not quite sure what to do with it.

I’m 27 now, obviously. I went to a Halloween party on Friday dressed as a Red Headed Slut. Burny went as Mike’s Hard Lemonade:

I have to tell you that when discussing costumes with my 23-year-old friend she said: “I’m too old to be slutty for Halloween.”

Hmm… perhaps I should have reconsidered my costume at that point, but instead I decided that I looked dang good! Not just for 27 but for any age! I was going to celebrate that! I was going to be slutty! I was going to wear my boots and show cleavage and I was going to rock it out! And that is just what I did.

So, once at the party I quickly realized that married couples must not regularly go out. Everyone was asking me if Burny was my boyfriend…

“You could say that.”

We’ve been married for 2 1/2 years… it’s just not something I’ve been asked in a while. And then the real kicker happened…

I was talking with this girl about make up. I had never met her before and I guessed (correctly this time) that she was probably in her early twenties. She mentioned college and I said something back about ‘when I was in college’ and then she looked at me very strangely…

“How old are you?” She asked appalled. I mean, it wasn’t like she was a young guy I was trying to deceive into thinking I was some hot young thing… it was a girl and we were talking about make up. I wasn’t aware I should have said my age before sitting down.

“I’m 27… can I still sit and chat??”

“Seat’s taken!”

So I answered her: “I’m 27.”

Her eyes widened, she tossed her head back in surprise (and a little bit of disgust I have to admit… like she could catch the late twenties) and she said:

“Wow… you look great! What do you use?”

Really?

I mean… really??

First of all… how old am I supposed to look by now?

What product do I use?

I was really thrown by that one. I didn’t know what to say. I felt like I should have given her the card of my plastic surgeon. It was the weirdest comment. And I can’t say that it felt good… Even though she really meant it as a complement, and I’m glad that I don’t look like I am really the ripe old age of pre-thirty, but still… the idea that I was old enough to have to use product to look this good… it hurt.

Perhaps I am too old to be slutty for Halloween.

Perhaps I’m too old to be going to parties…

But maybe… perhaps not too.

And by the way… if you’re wondering… I use Arbonne of course!

Movin’ on up

Welcome back me!

Sorry for the delay in posts. I was sailing the Caribbean on an all expenses paid, 7 day cruise! Thank you Arbonne! And so naturally, the theme of my post today is totally relevant to my hiatus from the blog. It’s about my travels through the Caribbean. Actually, it’s specifically about my experience in Jamaica, but you know… whose counting. It’s a travel Thursday so it fits.

When I was in Jamaica this past week, I had a very unique experience. If you were on the cruise with me, you will hardly consider it unique since most of us from the cruise (and any other cruise to Jamaica for that matter) had this same experience, but even still, I’m going to go ahead and call it unique.

I hiked up the face of a water fall.

And I mean quite literally just that. But let me start from the beginning.

When I was still safely home in America, I read the description of the excursions that went out from the dock in Jamaica. My Mother- my travel partner- and I decided that Jamaica would probably be our best bet for an excursion because it was the island we both knew least about. Neither of us had been there and so we figured we could stand to learn something.

So each of the excursions leaving from the dock in Jamaica all ended up at Dunn’s River Falls at one point or another during the day. Our particular excursion- that is to say, the one we ended up purchasing- went first to a plantation in Jamaica, where we were able to learn about and sample the crops, as well as tour the Great House. Then we went on to a Jamaican buffet- complete with the infamous Jerk Chicken- and then alas, we ended our afternoon at Dunn’s River Falls.

Now when I originally read about all the excursions and realized that most of the excursions went to this location, I figured that it was one of those tourist ‘must see’s’ and we would be able to climb some rocks and be done with it. Maybe take a dip if it was hot enough… but truly, it’s never that hot for me.

That is… until I experienced the heat of Jamaica. But that is neither here nor there.

When we purchased our excursion and they told us that water shoes were recommended… even then I thought that perhaps they were just covering their bases. They didn’t want us to get hurt romping around in the water.

Of course, I, completely afraid of the water, had no intention of actually going in.

When we got off the bus on Wednesday in Jamaica, I still had no idea as to what I had gotten myself into. When the old, German man in front of me took off both his shorts AND underwear AND bent down to pull up his swim shorts, exposing not only his ass but his FULL ball sack… only then did I realize that this might not be what I thought it was going to be.

And man… was I right.

We all got wrist bands as we headed into the “Dunn’s River Fall’s Park”. They asked us to get into two lines… those who were climbing the falls and those who were not. Of course I was going to climb the falls. I mean, how hard could it be? I still didn’t really expect to even get wet. I fully intended to climb right along side the water fall. How on earth would you climb a water fall even if you wanted to? I had no idea.

But the line of people forming in the ‘don’t want to climb’ line was a little unnerving.

So we headed into the park, and those of us who were climbing the falls headed down this winding path down and down and down. Farther and Farther. And all the while I could hear the sound of rushing water. I couldn’t see it… but I was painfully aware of it.

Once at the bottom of the winding cement path, we were introduced to our guide. He was a very enthusiastic gentleman. A very enthusiastic and very WET gentleman.

He led us even farther still… all the way out into the Ocean. Knee deep in the warm, Caribbean ocean I began to worry. What was about to happen to me? I mean, by that point I could see the tail end of what I could tell was an enormous water fall coming down the rocks and emptying into the ocean, but certainly there was no way of climbing up it. I mean, clearly that was a death sentence.

But climb we did. Right up the front. Just like they said we would. I just couldn’t believe what was happening…

He told us all to join hands. I grabbed my mom’s hand no problem, but the guy standing next to me was the very same German man whose balls I had just seen only 15 minutes earlier. I was a little less willing to grab onto him. But alas, the guides insisted. And the guides were quite frankly, a little too chipper for the impending doom that I could hear right around the corner.

So off we went, hand in hand… one long line of about 20 unstable tourists from all around the world. And we were all headed towards the sound… towards the water… towards a very unique experience.

At first I didn’t have a lot of time to realize what was happening. The line was moving forward and we had no choice but to continue along with them- we were all linked after all- but that didn’t help my anxiety. As we began to climb I noticed that we seemed to be moving away from deep water, and mostly sticking to wet rocks where the water had found it’s way around, but that didn’t last long. Before I knew it, I was placing my foot in the center of a jet of water that was rushing past me, challenging my footing. It was all I could do to keep my foot there, let along keep my hands in the grasp of someone else.

But you know what…

The people above me pulled me up before I even had the chance to fall… and the people below me were there when I began to falter there way.

It was truly an amazing team building activity. It’s amazing how dangling your life in the balance will really make you bond with a stranger.

But before we knew it, my mom and I were laughing, and climbing and although I don’t know when it happened… we didn’t need the help of the guy in front of us all the time anymore. But when we were about to fall… it was there; that helping hand. Just out of no where, someone would grab my elbow and prevent a whip out. It was pretty cool, I have to say.

And after 960 feet, we did get wet. At points we were chest deep in water. I even slid down a rock into a pool if you can believe that.

I know that picture makes it look totally un-scary, but trust me… it was terrible when it was happening. Sure my head stayed dry, but that’s hardly the measure of terror.

So needless to say… my mother and I climbed the front of a 960 foot water fall… right up the face of it. I can’t say that I am overcoming my fear of the water, but I do think that climbing a water fall is a step in the right direction. I mean, as long as there is a German guy there to catch you when you fall, how can you lose?

 

 

Percocet… the best pain killer

In the case of this blog, Percocet is in fact, a blog name for a good friend of mine. And I feel that it’s very fitting, especially in the context of this blog. I just googled it and this is what came up:

Percocet (Percaset) is used to relieve moderate to moderately severe pain.

I think that works well, actually. My friend, whose blog name shall be known from here on out as Percocet, did relieve my moderate to moderately severe pain. He is one of those very unique and complex friends that, if you are lucky enough to have one, stay with you for a lifetime.

I was driving to Yuba City today, and if you don’t know, most of the drive is a two-way highway. Today, nearly the entire way, I was stuck behind a lifted Toyota Tacoma. There was a FOX sticker on the tailgate, as well as one of those grenade stickers that I’m not sure what it stands for. But I AM sure that it means you are too cool for school.

There was a lot of traffic coming the other way, and I am such a chicken when it comes to passing, so I just drove behind this truck for a long while… wondering about the driver.

In another lifetime, these stickers, this truck… that would have been a sure bet that the driver would be someone I would have had a crush on. And when this truck and I finally approached Yuba City and came to a stop light… I noticed that he was talking on the phone- a law breaker- and he had his hat on backwards.

Again, this would have been love at first sight for me. In another lifetime…

All this immediately made me think of my friend Percocet. And then I laughed out loud in my car. I laughed out loud because I remembered how Percocet used to endlessly tease me about this, back when I lived in this other lifetime.

At the time, it felt like Percocet was the first guy in a long time that had really SEEN me. Really understood me. And not only that, but he was totally willing to call me out on all my faults and stupid ideals. I knew I had a pattern, but he was the first one to point out how stupid of a pattern it was.

It was liberating.

I met Percocet in the same fashion that I met so many other friends; at a party. But this wasn’t just any party… this was a party at Arosa. If this doesn’t immediately set off bells and whistles for you, let me explain further.

Arosa is a legend.

Well, technically, Arosa is a street in San Diego. But on this street, there was a house. And in this house… there were MANY a party. And these parties were epic. These parties were themed, these parties were huge, and these parties were parties even when it was just a few friends gathering in the living room. Arosa was THE place.

Now, during college, the party spot was MY house… but this was post college. Arosa is only known by those few of us who didn’t know what the heck to do after graduation. The few of us who stayed.

So anyway, I digress…

I met Percocet at one of the many parties at Arosa. He was well known, I was well known, but we didn’t know each other. So I introduced myself. Well, that’s hardly true either. He had my sister perched on his lap and so I sat down beside them to talk to her, when he realized that we were, in fact, sisters. This is always a very appealing thing to a drunk man. And so before I could do or say anything about it, Percocet had befriended me.

Now, there were two very unique facts that made our friendship… unique… right from the start.

1) I was about to move in with him.

When Ship and I broke up, I was homeless. I lived on Mac and Raps floor for months and months, but when they moved into a much smaller place… I was once again on my own. It was summertime and EMoney and Dewip were planning to get a place with me in September and so for the summer, I was a wanderer. I slept where I could. And a lot of the time, that was on my mattress- my last possession besides my clothes- on someones living room floor. For the month of July, I rented out a room at Arosa. Consistancy for an entire month!

Sidebar: Arosa usually only housed boys. I believe that LoDown and I are the only two daring girls who have ever dared to call ourselves roommates. This place was disgusting. It was one party on top of the next… and just one bathroom. It was the kind of house you can’t walk around in barefoot. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And so I had no choice but to move in. Perc already lived there… in what would normally be considered the dinning room.

And the second thing was…

2) Perc had just recently found out that he had cancer.

I can’t speak for Perc, but this might have been the hardest thing that he has ever had to go through. And at that time, we hardly knew each other, but I was going to be one of the people he came home from chemo to. It definitely started our relationship off on an interesting note.

When I met Perc at that party for the first time, you would have never guessed in a million years that he was sick. Not at all. Drunk, yes, but sick… not a chance. He was lively. He looked healthy. He had a ton of dark hair and a full beard. He had my sister on his lap and not a care in the world… or so it would seem.

This is Percocet. This is how he does it…

By the time I moved in, maybe a month later, a few things had changed. From the waste up, he looked perfectly normal, but from the waist down… well, that was a different story. I’m 96% sure that it was lymphoma, but Perc just called it ‘Bob’. To this day, I think I’ve only ever heard him say ‘cancer’ maybe 4 times.

So by the time I moved in, Bob had already started wreaking havoc on Perc’s leg. It had only been a month and the tumor had gotten huge. He wore jeans all the time, but it was painfully obvious that one of his legs was literally 3 times the size of the other. The tumor had started to prevent the fluids in his leg from escaping… and so they were just building up. He could hardly move it. It was difficult to walk. Difficult to shower, get dressed… everything. But it wasn’t difficult for Perc to laugh about it…

I hadn’t lived there more than a day when he lifted up his jeans, poked his leg and joked as the indent from his finger stayed in his leg.

This is how Perc does it.

Maybe four nights into my living at Arosa, Perc and I found ourselves alone in the house. The other roommates were gone and he and I had no plans for the evening, and so we figured what better way to break bread and get to know each other than over a few Red Stripes?

Hooray Beer!

Perc and I sat out on the back patio, the site of our first official conversation maybe a month before, and we got to know each other. To be honest with you, I can’t even remember what all we talked about but I can tell you this: Perc KNEW me. In an instant. He just knew who I was. It was so surreal and unnerving, but SOOO welcomed at the same time.

Like I said, at the time, I had been separated from Ship for maybe 9 months and yet, things still felt so fresh. I had so totally lost myself in that relationship that I hadn’t even really begun to put myself back on any sort of a track yet. I mean, I was still sleeping in people’s living rooms for crying out loud. The dust hadn’t settled. At least not for me. And Perc just SAW that. Maybe it was his having cancer that allowed him to see the cancer in me.

And it was just that simple. Without meaning to, Perc had totally put things into perspective for me. Next to Bob… Ship was nothing. He was insignificant. If Perc could nickname his cancer… couldn’t I find a way to move on in my life?

Talking to Perc that night relived my moderate to moderately severe pain. The kind of pain that I didn’t even really realize I was still feeling. And I think that maybe, just maybe… I helped do that for Perc as well. Everything seems less scary when you have someone on your team.

During a break in the conversation, we decided to move our bonding indoors. It was getting late. I used the restroom and went into the living room to talk some more, but Perc wasn’t in there. He was standing in the doorway, looking down at his pants. They were wet.

“I either peed my pants or my leg is leaking.”

Interesting.

Perc went into the bathroom to investigate further. While he was gone, I cursed myself for being drunk! I was supposed to be the responsible roommate who was going to be able to safely and calmly react and assist in any Bob related needs! SHIT! Was I really going to fail as a friend on night one?? He had just given me a bandaid for my stupid problems, and now he was going to die in our living room because I was too DRUNK to help!!

Perc came out and reported that the site of his biopsy was, in fact, leaking. Hmmm. We kind of looked at each other, both drunk, and contemplated what exactly to do about that. It wasn’t blood… it was clear. Water? Vodka??

I voted to call 911.

He called his doctor. It was almost 3am, but his doctor answered. Perc gave the doc the info and together they decided that it would be best if I could drive him to the hospital first thing in the morning. I was clearly much more concerned about the leaking leg than Perc was. He thought it was quite the incident! And I assure you, it has been the subject of many jokes since.

In the morning, Perc woke me up early and I drove him to the hospital.

I waited, and wiated.

It turned out to be nothing.

Nothing, but the start of a very strong friendship. I mean, how can you not be bff with the person who helps you with your leaking leg??

On July 4th weekend, Perc drove himself home to Northern California. Half way there, he called me to report that he had stopped at a grocery store to use the restroom. On the way to the bathroom, he slipped on a grape and fell all the way to the ground. It looked like he peed himself. It was just his leaking leg.

This is how Perc does it…

After he started chemo, I came home one day from work and Perc called me into the living room. He stood up and said:

“Guess what happened today?”

I wasn’t really into guessing games…

Perc reached up, grabbed a hand full of his dark hair and pulled it out. It came out easily, in one big chunk. I swallowed hard, preparing myself to be the caring friend…

“It’s time for a Mohawk!”

I video taped as our other roommate shaved Perc’s hair into a Mohawk.

This is how Perc does it…

Finally it all started to come out and we had to shave it all the way off. We didn’t video that time. But Perc made jokes the whole time. The whole way through…

He went through several rounds of chemo, and then one extra one just to ensure that Bob would never come back. And although he transformed before my eyes from a guy who didn’t have a care in the world… to a guy who had lost all his hair, his eye brows, his health… He never went a day without smiling. Without laughing. Without making ME laugh.

His hair grew back. His palness dissappeared- well, mostly. Perc made a full recovery. And you know what? So did I. And it started that night with the Red Stripe. Something about that summer has stayed with me. I moved into that house in the middle of MY chemo. I was still trying to flush the cancers out. I hadn’t turned the corner yet. I still felt sick. And when I left… my hair was growing back in. I was on the mend. And I really, truly feel that I have Percocet to thank for that. I think I was meant to be his roommate that summer. We needed to help each other.

In so many ways, his cancer saved me.

I’m thankful to say that even to this day, despite the distance, the changes, the passing time… Perc and I are still good friends. And I feel very lucky for that. There are very few relationships in this life that are like this one; People that we meet that we instantly click with. We instantly know them. And we are instantly able to tell them the truths about themselves that they aren’t always willing to admit.

And sometimes… that’s all we really need.

Perc and I still exchange inside jokes. I still think of him as a dear friends. And I know I always will…

Afterall… he’s my percocet.

“It’s time to go home”

It’s WoopsieDaisey Wednesday!

I always have trouble thinking up a tale for these days, even though I’ve had so many ‘Woops’ moments in my life… however, today it just came to me. In my most recent blog, about SinkinShip, I referenced a particularly crazy night and I feel that it most definitely falls under the Wednesday category and therefore, should be completed today.

As is the case with a lot of these stories… please keep in mind that my memory has been blurred by that devil alcohol. So try to keep up.

So the day I am referring to is the day/night of my college graduation. My high school graduation has many a fun story attached to it as well, but again, that must be saved for yet another of the never-ending blogs.

As I mentioned in my previous blog, I was dating Ship at the time of my college culmination. This was more or less, right smack dab in the middle of that relationship, and if you will recall, I was pretty much desperate for his attention and affection by that point. So just throw that in the back of your mind and keep it there.

The day started out like any other busy, important day of one’s life. I woke up early at Ship’s house. My family was in town, as well as my ex boyfriend, LemonBass, and so there was literally no room at my house for me. I’m sure that that is the only reason Ship agreed to having me over to his house in the first place, but that is neither here nor there. We woke up to a call from Ship’s superior on the Naval base. Apparently, Ship was supposed to be on base that day but had filed his paperwork either incorrectly or too late because there was definitely a communication error. He yelled, they yelled, and basically he decided that he was right no matter what they said, and he wasn’t going to go in, regardless. This was great news to me, because it meant that he was ‘choosing’ me over work, but even still… I would never have talked to my boss the way Ship spoke to his. And, well, because he was in the mood to yell, he decided to bring up AGAIN the fact that my ex boyfriend was in town to come to my graduation. I said it had been an argument between the two of us, but I didn’t mention that it went on and on. So after getting the brunt of his anger on that subject, I decided that the day was off to a great start.

I got up, got dressed and headed home. The original plan was for me to get ready in time to go see one of Ship’s MMA fights down in Pacific Beach. I’m not sure if I mentioned that in the previous blog… he was a Mixed Marshall Arts fighter… doesn’t that just add to his douche bagery? Anyway… so of course I started out the day stressed out, on a timeline, and nervous. It ended up, with all the showers of all the people in my house, that there was absolutely no way that I was going to be able to make it to his fight. This worried me very much. I really, honestly thought that if I didn’t go to this one fight, there was no way in hell he was going to show up for my college graduation. As if the two are even comparable. So I begrudgingly gave him the news that I was just running too late to make it to his fight. He didn’t even answer me back.

Side note: The cap and gown… totally not flattering. It doesn’t matter how big or little or tall or short or cute or whatever you are… it just doesn’t look good. And how the hell are you supposed to wear those hats anyway?? Hell if I know. I mean, I really struggled. This was supposed to be a day that would be photographed and looked at for years to come, and I couldn’t figure out one suitable way to wear that damn hat so that my hair didn’t look hideous.

Alas, I opted for the curly hair, down, and the hat pinned back on the skull of my head. Still not cute, but at least it didn’t smoosh my bangs.

So I headed, with my beloved roommates DMo and KayTown, my mom, he-who-must-not-be-named (Step dad), Lemon, D’Monk and my cuz to graduation. No sign of Ship.

We got to COX Arena on the SDSU campus about an hour before the ceremony, and there were quite literally 100 million people there. I think that was the official count. And it was right around 100,000 degrees as well. Again… what’s with the heat retaining, black bag that they call a gown?? So hot! Kay and I, and the rest of the graduation crew headed down to where our major was gathering, while the rest of my family- sans my noticeably absent boyfriend- headed to their seats.

The actual graduation ceremony at COX Arena was very impersonal. There were hundreds of us crowded onto the floor, where the basketball floor would normally be, and hundreds more ‘fans’- so to speak- in the stands. Out of all of those hundreds of people… no Ship.

We heard from speaker after speaker, all off which had a similar message: Shit gets real, starting now. And then we each stood up, as a major, and switched our tassels from one side to the next. We went through the motions, we followed protocol. The guy sitting two seats down from me was so moved, he fell asleep. It was magical. And all through the 20 hour long ceremony, Ship did not make an appearance.

However, the real ceremony, the one that mattered to me, was the one that followed the giant, impersonal one. It was JUST for MY major, which of course, was theatre. So after we were released from COX arena, and after I found my family and friends in the masses, we made our way across campus towards the second ceremony. Maybe Ship would show for this one? In truth, it was the only one that counts in my heart… even now.

And sure enough… there he was. He showed! I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be SURPRISED when your boyfriend shows up for your graduation, but I really was. Kay and I had to go into a special room before the ceremony began, so that we could all make a breath-taking entrance as one graduating unit. And as soon as I walked into the room, I did what every other girl does on any special day in her life… I looked for my Mommy. And there he was, sitting right next to her. He was standing and cheering and grinning, ear to ear. I was in heaven.

So this ceremony, unlike the first, was totally moving. DMo, and three other great friends of mine sang ‘For Good’ from Wicked, which if you’ve never heard it… is the PERFECT song for a graduation.

It was so beautiful that I ugly face cried.

Another good friend of mine was class speaker and her speech was very pointed. It was totally different than any of the first speeches at COX because these were MY friends. They were people I had gone to class with. They were MY teachers. These lessons were really MINE to take. It was really a great ceremony and I’m very sad to report that due to the economy, these separate major ceremonies no longer go on. I think that cheats the grads out of a very memorable experience. I remember looking over at KayTown and laughing at the inside jokes. Jokes that were ours. And I cherish the fact that our house, the party house, was brought up more than once by the speakers. It felt very personal and real… like we were really moving away from something, reminiscing. I’ll never forget it.

But either way, after this second, magical ceremony, I again reunited with my family and friends. I was given a sash to hand to the person who had most influenced my life during my college years and I gave it to my mother. We cried some more. At that point I was really wondering why I even bothered to spend any time on my hair. My face was a giant, sloppy mess.

After pictures…

… we headed to dinner at one of my favorite Mexican food places in Old Town San Diego. What better place to celebrate? When we got there, Kay’s dad pointed out the sign leading into the restaurant which announced mine and Kay’s names and congratulated us on our success. I thought that was very special and I just love to feel special.

The only down side about celebrating anything at a Mexican restaurant is the margaritas. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love myself some margs but when they come in pitchers… well, that’s where things get messy. And so we began. We took shots, we had mixed drinks, and we had many a pitcher of margs. Needless to say, by the time Kay and I left the place, we were more than special… we were ‘special’. It was scary.

First stop: Home. Or so I think. We had large plans to go out on the town, but for some reason I remember heading home first. Perhaps there needed to be some dropping off of things. Perhaps some changing. Again, I asked you to bear with me on this so I hope you are. In any respect, at some point in the evening we were at my house. The house where Kay and I both lived, and the house where everyone who was anyone was staying. And by that point, the emotion of the whole event was hitting me. We were done with college. We were all moving on. A lot of us were moving AWAY. Kay was nearly packed and she wasn’t just moving out… she was moving to NEW YORK! I am talking about the soul mate who had lived just across the hall from me for 4 years!! (Figuratively). It was very difficult. And we hadn’t really allowed ourselves to talk or even think about it. But the time had come for no more time. I hate it when that happens. Kay and I were closing a chapter. And all of a sudden, drunk as all get out, it hit me. And what did I do? I broke down crying, climbed into my mother’s lap and insisted on her rocking, and singing to me.

I’m not crazy.

I just reverted back to my childhood years. This is exactly what she needed to do for me when I was upset as a child. And apparently, it still worked. I felt much better afterwards. Ship, however, might have been thinking twice. Too bad he had no room to talk because I’d seen him far more intoxicated than needing to be rocked by his mother.

So after I was settled down, and keep in mind it is possible that this portion of the story did in fact take place prior to us coming home, we went down the street to a little bar called Bourbon Street. If you’ve never been there, let me just say… it’s a gay bar. It’s not just a gay bar, but it’s a gay bar that shows gay porn on all the tvs. Now, of course this didn’t bother Kay or I, or even my mom or sister for that matter, but my step dad, cousin, ex and Ship… they felt somewhat out of place. Ship felt even more awkward when I handed him my purse to hold onto.

Why did we choose this place? Can’t be sure. I know that I had gone there on my 21st birthday and had a blast. I never had to deal with getting hit on but at the same time, men still bought me drinks. And, quite frankly, I love myself some gays. I think it was just one of those things.

So at the bar, as I mentioned, men were just lining up to buy the two grads some shots. And of course I felt it necessary to accept. I had just graduated from SDSU- one of the largest party schools in the country! How could I turn down a free shot? I only remember taking one, a blow job shot of course, but I’m sure I took many. The thing I do remember best about that place was this: As soon as I finished my shot, I reached over with shot glass, and dropped it right on the floor as if I were placing it gently on the counter. Nope. No counter… just a long drop to the floor. So it shattered of course and no one was more surprised than me.

At that point I decided that I had to use the restroom, and as is the case with most drunk girls, I didn’t decide that early enough to hold it while I waited in a line. And what a line there was. At a gay bar, they don’t actually see the need to have a girls restroom other than the law, and so the line was absolutely astronomical for the one stall. And I just could not wait. I asked my friend, a gay man of course, for assistance and he opened up the empty boys room and said,

“Not like anyone cares in here.”

So true.

In most mens room- and not to insinuate that I’ve been in many- there are a few urinals and generally only one stall. I don’t understand this. If anything, men are much more likely to crap in a public place than women are, and yet they only get one option. And of course!! A guy had to be taking a poop just as I was in desperate need of a stall!! SO again… what did I do? I did what I think anyone else would do in my situation… I popped a squat over the urinal. Luckily for me, it was one of those floor ones. And my good friend helped hold me up so my bum didn’t touch the porcelain.

It was yet another ‘bet you haven’t done that’ moment that I can add to my long list of moments.

We might have been there an hour, it might have been 5 minutes, there is no way of knowing. But either way after the urinal, it was time to move to the next place. Truth be told, it was time to get my butt to bed, but no one likes a quitter.

The next stop was Tripple Crown which was also in walking distance of my house. Actually, it was on the way BACK towards my house so at least we were moving in the right direction. And although I was unsure earlier about the order of events, I know for a FACT that this bar was last.

Tripple Crown is a good, solid pub-like bar. It was close to our house so we knew it well, but at the same time, it was always packed with new people. And that night was no exception. The place was jumping. And again, it could have been 1am or maybe it was noon, but it was packed and we were ready to have a good time.

I sat down next to my mother, at the bar that faced out into the street. That was the other cool thing about Tripple Crown. There was a bar that faced out towards the street, and there was a huge sliding door that was open so that we could just reach out and touch the passers by- if we so chose. I always thought that was very cool. And so my mother and I hopped up onto the bar stools that were facing out towards the passing cars. Ship, who was a smoker (strike 100 against him), was standing on the other side of the bar- actually outside on the street- smoking. He was chatting with LemonBass, ironically enough, who he just so happened to really like. Go figure!

We hadn’t been sitting there more than 5 minutes and we hadn’t been in the bar more than 7 when I fate-fully reached for my mom’s Bud Light (aka B minus). I remember this part very clearly. I reached for the beer, which was positioned just out of my reach to the right and directly in front of my mom, when the most outrageous thing happened. I can’t explain it. I was reaching to my right and suddenly, without warning, I fell straight backwards off my bar stool. I was leaning right…….. and fell backwards. Still don’t get it. And don’t worry… I totally blame this trick of gravity for my fall and not my alcohol consumption.

But don’t let me sugarcoat this fall for you.

I fell backwards. Head towards cement. Legs sprawling for the ceiling, still in my graduation dress no less. And I slammed down on the ground. I broke a record-breaking THREE glasses during this epic tumble. One was the beer in my right hand, which had caused the whole fall to begin with. One was the glass in front of me that I had kicked whilst falling. And the third was my cousins. He was less intoxicated than me at that point and so he had seen me start to fall from across the bar. He made it all the way across the room just in time to get his drink knocked out of his hand by my passing arm. I broke that glass by FALLING on it.

Amazingly, I did not have a scratch on me. And also AMAZINGLY, my mother managed to SAVE MY LIFE. She saw me start to go- it must have been in slow motion… or at least that’s how it felt for me- and so she grabbed my two hands at the last minute. She knew there was no saving me. My feet were well over my head by that point. But her intention was simple: Keep my head from slamming into the cement.

And although I did break 3 glasses, one by falling on it, at the last minute my arms extended to the max and my head was saved. I had a wicked case of whiplash the next day, but my brain was intact! Or at least mostly.

Now, this is where I did what most people wouldn’t do. Instead of being embarrassed and mortified… I laughed. I started laughing my ass off! People were encircling me, strangers were picking me up off the ground, my mother was pulling my dress back down over my crotch and I just thought it was the funniest thing to ever happen.

At that point I looked at Ship who was standing directly in front of me, still outside the bar, and I’ll never forget what he said:

“It’s time to go home.”

And so it was…

Once we got home, it was as if nothing embarrassing had happened at all. I was causing quite the drunken scene. I was very insistence upon Ship taking me home and home meant his house. As it stood, my mom and step dad were sleeping in my room, the fold out couch had already been claimed and the only thing left for Ship and I was a blow up mattress in the dinning room. I found that totally unacceptable. But Ship refused to drive me because he had been drinking and he didn’t want to make a bad impression on my mom. (Way to see that through). And so he did everything in his power to keep me laying down on the mattress. And trust me, I was putting up quite the fight. I was yelling at him and I was calling him every name in the book. I kept telling him that he was the worst boyfriend ever, when in fact, this might have been the ONLY night in our entire relationship where he actually was a good boyfriend.

And to top it all off, I went off on my step dad about how much he had been drinking. Apparently, he hadn’t had anything. Nope… just me. Great.

So that is the story of the night I graduated from college. It would appear that the only thing I learned in my four years… was how to party.

And down she goes

Brace yourself readers…

It’s time for cheat number 3. And it can’t be abbreviated.

Cheat number one was hard because as the title of that blog suggests: The first cut is the deepest. That’s true and all, but it doesn’t really hold a torch to cheat number 2. And cheat number 2, HurtLocker, is really quite forgivable when you compare him to cheat number three. So although this was not my first OR second heart-break… it was probably the worst. It definitely changed me drastically as a person. And when I look back on my relationship with this person, I really don’t even recognize myself. It’s a very specific version of me that never existed before or after this relationship. It’s very strange. And yet, if I had never had my heart so completely torn apart, I would never have needed 2 1/2 years for it to repair. And if I hadn’t had that time to fix what was broken and set new standards for myself… I never would have made my way to Burny. Life happens for a reason. And although it’s hard to even tell this story… I know that I have to embrace it. It’s part of me.

I met SinkinShip in early March of 2005. It had only been 3 months since I found out HurtLocker was engaged, and not that it has to be said, I wasn’t over that yet. I was still not eating and not sleeping, but I agreed to go out with Lizzard on that fateful night just because I was feeling really pathetic. She picked me up and we had every intention of heading to Pacific Beach (yes, I was living in SD at this time) or somewhere equally as ‘exciting’ but we had to make one quick stop before we began our night to say hello to her boyfriend at the time.

This is what really weirds me out… what if we hadn’t stopped? What if her boyfriend hadn’t gone out that night? What if I had just stayed home like I wanted to do anyway… where would I be? WHO would I be?

But alas, we went to Effin’s on El Cajon Blvd. If you’ve never been there, it’s a rather small Irish pub and one of my very favorite hang outs. I have so many good memories there, both before and after this night. And I find it very strange that I had never seen SinkinShip there before and I never knew him to go there while we were dating either. It was just one of those random, fate-ish things. But he was there on that night. And he was there with Lizzard’s boyfriend. There was no avoiding him. Not that I could have. There was a very strong connection between he and I, even from the very moment we saw each other. I can picture it very clearly, coming in the bar and him looking over and locking eyes… I can even remember what we were both wearing. It felt very cosmic. And I know that sounds cheesy but you’ll see as this blog progresses that this guy had a very strong pull on me.

Lizzard and I approached the table where both her boyfriend, and SinkinShip were stationed. It didn’t take Ship long to start a conversation with me. Lizzard had leaned in close to talk to her boyfriend and he and I were standing side by side rather awkwardly. It was very loud in the bar and he was very tall- 6’5”- so he had to lean way down to talk into my ear.

“I like your shoes.”

That’s what started it all. I was wearing black and pink Converses. I found it really intriguing that that was what he decided to open up with.

“Thanks.”

“You don’t see Chucks on girls very much”

“I wear them all the time.”

It was true… I did.

I was immediately attracted to Ship. He was exactly my ‘type’ if you will. Let me correct myself… he WAS my type; the type I had been attracted to from the time I started to notice boys up until Ship. It also has to be said that he was the last of this ‘type’ that I ever dated. Keep in mind that I was living in San Diego and I was wearing Chucks… Ship was tall and lean. He had amazing blue eyes, dark hair (which is a very rare combo it seems), and he had tattoos.Ttattoos were kind of my trade mark thing. If he looked like a douche, I probably liked him.

Ship was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and I could see a half sleeve (tattoo) just popping out at the bottom. True love.

So we were talking and because it was so loud he kept having to lean down and nearly shout in my ear. And after about 20 minutes of the shouting back and forth, he just kind of left his face near my ear and we talked like that… cheeks touching. I could just feel the chemistry right away, which should have been a huge warning sign for me. I can never think straight when there is chemistry. But as if that wasn’t enough of a reason for me to run in the other direction, I noticed something on his wrist as he was talking to me…

Another tattoo. And just as he was telling me a story about what he does for work- he was in the Navy OF COURSE- I cut him short and grabbed his wrist to examine it closer.

“Tell me this is written in ink!”

Ship looked at his wrist, licked his thumb and tried to rub it off. It didn’t even smudge. The tattoo on his wrist said:

Don’t be a pussy.

Are. You. Kidding. Me.

How on earth did I continue talking to this guy? Who does that? Who tattoos that on their wrist???? Trust me, I asked him all these questions and proceeded to berate him for being such an idiot. He gave me some story about how 12 of his friends all had the same thing and there was some reason for it, which of course I can’t remember now, because really… what reason could there be?

Well, that was a deal breaker for me. I wasn’t drinking and I was keeping my head on mostly straight and I just couldn’t be talking to a guy who had a tattoo like that on his wrist. No thanks! I was just about to leave when… I didn’t.

2 hours later, we were still chatting and Lizzard asked me if it was okay if she just went home with her boyfriend. He lived right down the street from the bar. I said sure, knowing that I had a lot of friends who lived nearby if need be. But also unwilling to leave my new-found idiot. So Ship and I talked well into the night… all the way until closing. I still wasn’t drinking, but NONE of my friends were answering the phone. Without really intending to, and without being even remotely intoxicated, I had gotten myself into a really uncomfortable and probably unsafe situation. Now, I’ve had my days in college but I didn’t make it a practice of going home with random men that I had just met that night at the bar. Certainly not! But at that point, I really didn’t see a lot of options. I could either go to Ship’s friends house with him. Or I could wander the streets at 2am hoping that one of my friends would either answer their phones, or be home when I got there. Neither sounded too great.

I decided to stick with Ship. He promised and swore that he would take me home in the morning and he wouldn’t try anything and that he would even walk me wherever I needed to go if need be. I had nowhere to go. I really hadn’t thought it through. So I decided to trust the guy with the ‘don’t be a pussy’ tattoo.

We went to his friend’s house and true to his word, Ship didn’t make a single move. We made some hotdogs at around 3am and continued talking. Ship had led quite a life. Another HUGE warning sign would have been his past drug use, his arrests, his family life, his crazy relationships… I don’t know, pick one. But at that time in my life, I was in the ‘I will fix him’ stage. I think all women go through some version of that, right? Well I certainly did. I thought to myself: I am going to change him. I am going to be worth it to him. He will change for me. What silly, silly thoughts. Please ladies… don’t ever even try to convince yourself of that. When you put your WORTH in someone elses hands like that… it won’t end well. Trust me.

We pulled out the sofa couch, slept side by side, and he didn’t so much as touch me. He took me home in the morning and dropped me off. We had exchanged phone numbers of course, and as soon as he drove away, he texted me that he had enjoyed meeting me.

And that is how we left it.

How different I would be if that is how we would have left it forever.

In the morning I told KayTown all about my brush with danger. She had been fast asleep when I was calling for a ride and so she was very concerned as to where I had ended up. I’m smiling to myself right now because Kay used to tell me that whatever guy I happened to be talking about was just “one of my guys.” I was somewhat of a flirt. I still am. But back in college, it was out of control. Week to week, my crush was someone different. I am a self-proclaimed lip slut. I love kissing and I had kissed my way across the entire state by that point. Note: A lip slut and a slut are not the same.

So when I told KayTown about my new crush, she brushed it off as if it were just another of my boys. And at first, it seemed like that would be the case. He didn’t call. No word. Not for a week. And then one week later I got a voicemail from a voice I didn’t recognize. It was him, but he didn’t say his name. He said that he had gone ‘out to sea’ and was back and wanted to see me. He said he was having a party at his house and I should come. I ran into Kay’s room and told her to get dressed. She was going to meet my crush! A week of thinking about a guy will always get a girl overly excited. This was no exception.

Kay and I went over to his house. I hate to even bring this up but he walked out to meet us and he was wearing board shorts and no shirt. He was into wrestling so this was a huge selling point, the whole no shirt thing. We went inside and he introduced us to everyone. He was very friendly, clearly the life of the party, and I had no trouble stepping up to meet that standard. Kay and I spent most of the night in the garage, chatting with his friends and he came back and forth to talk with us and then back into the house to be a host. It worked out quite well.

Towards the end of the night, still rather unsure of what the situation was going to develop into between he and I, Ship made a move. Kay and he and I were standing in the living room, just talking between the three of us, and he put one finger up as if to say “hold on a sec”. He took the drink out of my hand, he took the keys out of my hand and he took the phone out of my hand and he handed all of that to Kay, who was standing right there beside us. And then he put his hands on my cheeks, and he kissed me. It might sound awkward, but it was very sweet. And Kay and I were close enough so that it didn’t make her feel weird. She actually said:

“How cute! Was that the first kiss?”

It was the first of many.

I fell in love with Ship pretty quickly, fight as I might. He and I actually set up rules. He knew about HurtLocker, what had happened between us, and how devastated and fragile I was because of that relationship- which makes this story so much more painful- and he was aware that I wanted to take things slow. I know it may seem weird that we opened the X-files so quickly, but I really felt like I had to tell him where I was at. He needed to know that I wasn’t in the market to be messed with. And he seemed to understand and respect that. At first…

It was St. Patrick’s day and he and I had gone downtown with a few of my friends, and we were pretty drunk. I remember standing in the kitchen of my house afterwards and just staring at him and laughing and having a really great moment. And I remember him saying that he was totally infatuated with me. He couldn’t stop thinking about me. He was totally smitten. And I said:

“I’m in LIKE with you”.

One of our rules was that we were not going to say love. We were not going to fall in love. We were not even going to talk about things that had to do with love. Not at all. Being in LIKE was our compromise. And that’s what we used for a long while.

Shortly after we started dating, I became painfully aware of his ex girlfriend and her constant presence in his life. She called on average 20 times a day. He never answered- at least not while I was around- and he was always complaining about how crazy she was. The story seemed to fit. I remember spending the night at his house and finding a HUGE ink spot on his sheets. He said that it happened St. Patrick’s day. She came over and his roommates said he was out and so she broke a pen on his bed. Or so the story goes…

I should have seen this as yet another red flag. That is definitely not something I wanted to be involved with… but I was already in too deep.

Ship and I had a pretty relaxed situation at the beginning, which really was exactly what I needed. He had to go ‘out to sea’ often for training and I was in school and so we saw each other 3 or 4 times a week. It wasn’t everyday and that was nice. And to be perfectly honest, it was he who decided that we should be exclusive. It was he who decided to have ‘the talk’ with me. He made it serious. And I didn’t complain. But we still stayed away from that ‘love’ word. One time he said it on accident, more as a joke than anything else, and he gasped, covered his mouth and started apologizing. I had made a joke and he said: “You’re so retarded, I love you.” That was it. But it lingered…

I guess it was a few months in when things started to take a turn. I was graduating college in May of that year and I was heading to Oxford to study theater for the summer. I was actually planning to move back to Northern California before I left for Europe. That had been the plan and although we hadn’t really talked about it, I was already doubting my decision to move. When I finally did come clean to Ship about my plans, he was devastated. And at that moment, I felt him start to pull away from me and I felt myself hold onto him harder and harder. I really think that was the turning point. That was the beginning of me giving up myself to be with him.

Sometime before my graduation in May, Ship and I had our first major blow out fight. By that point in our relationship I had discovered that his party lifestyle was pretty much just that: a lifestyle. He was nothing short of an alcoholic, which shouldn’t have been surprising given the things I knew about his past dependency issues. And even more than that, he had anger management issues. And when I say that I mean that he was in court mandated classes for his anger management. But until that first major blow out, I really had not seen that side of him.

But that night, I’ll never forget. His roommate had gotten in a fight with his girlfriend and he had thrown a beer in her face. Yes, these are the type of people Ship hung out with. Of course the girlfriend stormed out, and of course, Ship felt that he needed to get involved. He ran outside after her and started running down the street after her car. As he was running, drink in hand, his pants fell down and he tripped and super maned across the cement. It should have been funny, but it wasn’t. It was sad. It was so pathetic that he was that wasted that I started to cry. And at this point in my life, I hadn’t talked to my own father because of his drinking problems for nearly 2 years, so seeing my boyfriend that drunk really stuck a chord with me.

When he saw that I was crying, he stumbled over to me and tried to figure out why. When I told him it was because he was so drunk… he lost it. I can’t really explain it. I have no idea why that set him off, but he completely lost it. He started punching the house and punching trees and screaming and throwing things. It was terrifying. I ran in the house and got into bed, hoping to just fall asleep. But he followed me in there, apologizing but still throwing things around. I was hysterically crying and totally beside myself but he just kept going.

I called Rossco at that point, even though it was about 4am, to come and pick me up. I had never been around someone like that and I was sure that the craziness was about to be turned on me. Rossco didn’t hesitate. He jumped in his car with another close guy friend of mine and he sped to get me. Thank God for that.

But as soon as Ship found out that I had called a guy to come and pick me up, he was livid. And this time it WAS directed at me. And what did I do? I apologized. I begged him to not be mad. I told him that I was stupid for calling anyone and that I was just going to go home and go to bed but that I would see him in the morning. And worst of all… I meant it. I really was sorry that I had made him so upset. Yep, I blamed myself.

When Rossco showed up, Ship insisted on walking me out. I was so scared. I had already seen Ship get into two fights and I was just so sure that that was exactly his intention when we walked up to Rossco. Thank the Lord, nothing happened. Ship kissed me and put me in the car. There was definitely some terrible looks exchanged between Rossco and my enraged boyfriend, but not even a word was mumbled. My friend driving the car had white knuckles he was holding onto the steering wheel so tightly. He couldn’t even look at Ship. I don’t blame him. And to this day I am so very sorry to both those boys for involving them in that. I brought them into such an awful situation and that wasn’t fair. But at the same time, I am so grateful to have had people in my life that care about me as much as those boys do. I feel lucky.

The next day, Ship refused to talk to me and I was miserable. I felt like the whole thing had been my fault and I was LITERALLY begging him to take me back. And please know that I have never been like this before. I have never been hit, I have never been in any sort of abusive relationship, but all the same… I was totally playing the role of the battered woman. I was defending him to Rossco. I was defending him to Kay and he was saying such awful things to me in return. He called me a slut. He said he never wanted to see me again. He said that I had ruined everything. It went on and on. But I did have one thing that he needed… his work boots. So after an entire day of convincing, he agreed to come over and get his boots so that we could talk.

All that he remembered from the night before was that I had called a boy and went home with him. He had no idea why I did it. He did not remember the punching or the yelling. He remembered that it was my fault. And when I told him about all the rest, he said:

‘Oh well, sorry.’

And that was it. He stayed with me that night. We were back together…

Our relationship only got worse, and I seemed to give up more and more of myself to make it better. Remember when I told you that I had put my worth in his hands… well the second that I convinced myself that I was going to be worth it to him to change his ways… was the second I decided that I was going to be treated this way. The more I wasn’t worth anything to him, the more I needed that worth. The more I tried to BE worth it.

One night he called me, it was a Wednesday and I had school the next morning, but he wanted me to go out with him in PB. He said that he was eating dinner and that he would be over to pick me up in an hour. I tried to convince him that I really didn’t want to go, but at the same time, I was so desperate for him to want me that I agreed. I got in the shower, did my make up, got dressed… and he never came. He wouldn’t even answer his phone.

One day he told me to come down to the beach and meet him. There used to be a huge party in PB every year called ‘PB Block Party’ and it had become somewhat of a tradition. I was planning to go regardless, but when Ship invited me to meet him down there, I was overjoyed. I went down there with DMo and it was the same story… he wouldn’t answer his phone. I was down at the beach for hours and I never found him. I found his car and I left him a note… he didn’t call me until the morning and he was mad at me because I had called him 22 times. He called me crazy. I apologized.

It wasn’t all bad though. It never is. Obviously there must have been some reason I stayed with him, right? Well… yes. But to be honest… I can’t remember the reason. I know he was funny and he could be very sweet. He was great to D’Monk and KayTown but that couldn’t have been all of it. I remember him taking me to a fancy brunch one time and I remember he went to a play just because it was ‘my thing.’ He did want to leave at intermission though… I don’t know. This is why this story is so hard for me to tell… I don’t know why I was this person. I can’t think of what would have come over me. It wasn’t real love. It couldn’t have been. Fear? I don’t know. It just makes me so sad. And it breaks my heart to think that some people live their whole lives this way… afraid. I wasn’t so much afraid of him… although the thought had crossed my mind that I should have been… but I was afraid that after everything, HE was going to leave ME. I just never knew what to expect. And I was just holding on for dear life…

When I graduated college, he was there. He was sitting in the audience, cheering me on with my mom, MacTen and my friends. LemonBass had come to see me graduate too, and of course that had caused a fight. Ship didn’t understand why I would have an ex boyfriend come to see me graduate. I didn’t understand why his ex girlfriend called so much, but I apologized. It was always my fault. And I’m sure that is why he came to my graduation anyway, to make sure I didn’t do anything bad, but whatever the reason I was so glad he was there. I remember feeling so validated that day because he was there. Because he made the effort. LemonBass had gotten on a plane. My family had driven 9 hours to be there… but the validation came from Ship.

That night was kind of a strange night, I have to say. Ship was actually quite the charmer. He stayed with me and my family all night. He even went with us to a gay bar. And he even stayed sober to watch over me and make a good impression on my mom… but that story is one for another blog. It’s actually quite entertaining. But I’m gonna breeze over it for now…

So after graduation, I had a major decision to make. Should I stay or should I go? Obviously we had been talking about it, and clearly I had been thinking about it non-stop. I wasn’t quite ready to leave San Diego, but I certainly wasn’t ready to leave Ship. I knew that would have been the end. So ultimately, I decided to stay in San Diego. I just wasn’t ready to quit. But even though I had decided to stay… that didn’t mean that my house was still available to me. I had already found someone to take my place… I was essentially homeless. But I still felt like it was the right decision.

So what did I do?

I moved in with Ship. It really wasn’t my intention for things to work out that way, but I have to say that I was very happy that they did. And I was even more overjoyed that he was allowing me to move in! I felt like we were finally taking a step in the right directions. I have no idea why the evidence leading up to this event would cause me to think that this was moving in the right direction, but that’s hardly the point. We both knew I was going to be leaving for over two months starting the following month (insert trip to Europe and studying at Oxford here) and so really, it was only ever going to be a temporary thing. He didn’t even give me a key.

Before I left for Europe, I went home to Northern California for 2 weeks. I moved in with Ship, slept there about 3 nights, and then I went home. It was the beginning of an extremely long separation for us. And leaving was very hard. I knew I was going to see him before I left for Europe, but that was only going to be for a few days… this was the beginning of the longest goodbye I’ve ever had.

The night before I left for home, Ship and I spent our last night in MY house. It was a very emotional, very humbling night. Ship was actually pretty broken up about it, and again, that was hugely validating. Anything that showed he cared was all I ever wanted. But he kept saying that I was leaving HIM. He made that very clear. At the time I didn’t think anything of it. I guess I WAS leaving him…

That night he told me he loved me. It was the first time. He broke the rule. And I loved him back.

I left the next morning. When I was home, we talked on the phone every night. One night, he broke out in hysterics talking to me. He said that he had taken everything for granted with me and now I was going to be gone. Remember how I said that when I first brought up the fact that I was leaving… I felt him pulling away. Well, apparently he regretted it. And that was all the fuel I needed to go over seas and feel confident in my relationship. He regretted treating me that way and so all was forgiven! I knew there was hope for us! I was willing to believe that a few weeks at the beginning of our relationship was what was real… and everything since had just been a bad day. He loved me. He really loved me. I felt it, finally! At the risk of being terribly lame and ironic, I’m going to quote one of my husband’s songs:

“That ain’t what love is. That ain’t what love does.”

I had a graduation party at my house in Nor Cal a few days before I left for Europe. Ship actually got on a plane and flew up for it. I couldn’t believe it. He kept telling me that he was going to, but I never really believed that he actually would do it. Even when he said he had bought the ticket, I still didn’t really believe him. But when I went to the airport to pick him up and he came down the escalator with a huge smile on his face, I knew that it was actually real. I thought that I just might be in the relationship that I hoped I was in. And it really felt like all the bad stuff was behind us and we were turning over a new leaf. He had told me he loved me. He had admitted he regretted everything. We had moved in together! We were ever starting to talk about getting married. It was really real.

The night of my graduation party, Ship was introduced as my boyfriend to everyone. Again, he didn’t get drunk and make a fool of himself. He seemed to be very much in control and he was happy to chat with anyone who he came in contact with. He understood that I had to mingle and that I wouldn’t really be able to babysit him. He didn’t need that. Despite it all, come to find out later, no one was really that impressed by him. I was the only one who really fell under his spell.

After the party, things took a change. My cousin, some friends of mine and of course, Ship and I, all went out to the bars. Ship made up for lost time and was quickly intoxicated. He was talking to this girl, clearly flirting with her, which really didn’t bother me as much as he was hoping it would. I knew that he was staying at my house and I knew that he was just trying to piss me off, and so I played right back. I started flirting with a guy friend of mine. About five minutes into that, he came over, grabbed me by the arm and made some rude commit about how I was acting. I brushed it off, but it was obvious that the night was over at that point.

We all took a cab ride home and the total cost of the cab was $12. My cousin had a few bucks, but the rest of the cab fare fell on Ship’s dime. He was my boyfriend after all, and it would have been the right thing to do to pay anyway, but for some reason, this really set him off. We had to walk about a block from where the cab dropped us off and by the time we got into the guest room at my mom’s house, Ship was beside himself. He started screaming at me and slamming doors and hitting the walls. He grabbed me several times and it felt like he wanted to throw me across the room, but he didn’t. I was just sobbing the whole time. He was saying things like:

“You are just like your mother.”

“No wonder your dad doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

He was really going for the gut and he was so far out of line it was hard to know where the lines were. He really didn’t know anything about my dad. Only that he was an alcoholic and we hadn’t talked in a while. But he also knew that it was a sore subject. And he totally used that against me. It was the first time in my life that I was really scared that I was going to be beat up. I was just standing there against the wall waiting for the blow.

It never came. Thank God. But neither did anyone else. Ship was screaming at me. There was a house full of people. And no one even knocked on the door. And you know how that made me feel? It made me feel like everyone thought I deserved it. Can you even believe what one person can do? Can you believe what control one person can have over another person? It still amazes me today.

He finally stopped yelling and started crying. Then came the apologies and the ‘I’ll never act like that again’s.’ I was a cliché.

The next day on the drive back down to San Diego, Ship was driving and he brought up the fight. I asked him if he remembered what had happened and he said he had. He clearly felt the same way sober as he had drunk the night before. I cried the whole drive home.

And then I left for Europe.

If you read my journal from Europe, you would never guess in a million years that a blog like this could ever exist. For the first month, I gush about Ship. I talk about how much I miss him and how much he understands me and supports me. I was gone for over 2 months and I talked to him 3 or 4 times. MacTen talked to her boyfriend almost everyday. Something is wrong with that picture.

But by the second month, about half way through my program in Oxford, a little light started to be shed. I was finally removed enough, and happy enough, and WORTH enough on my own that I was able to see for the first time, that maybe things weren’t the way I thought they were. Maybe Ship wasn’t the guy for me. I was hopeful, but I was also starting to be realistic. And my journal reflects that too. Thank God for Mac. This trip is where we really solidified that we NEED each other and that we will always be connected, no matter what distance comes between us. Mac was my rock through all of this with Ship, especially in Europe. Kay was there for the good times, Mac was there for the fall out. Kay was in New York by that time and although she tried to offer her support, she was going through her own blog-worthy relationship drama.

By the time Mac and I got on the plane to come home, I already knew that my relationship was over. I changed in Europe. My eyes were opened. And I really felt ready and prepared to end things with Ship. I knew it was the best thing for me. And more than anything, I knew that I had out grown him. I had become the person who was not going to put up with that shit anymore. But that didn’t make what was coming any easier…

Ship was at the airport when I got home from Europe. He had insisted on being there. And as soon as I saw him… everything I thought I knew went out the window. Love is stupid like that.

We went home to OUR house and I fell asleep. It was all just too much to deal with. And that’s what I did for an entire week. I just went to sleep instead of dealing with what I had realized in Europe. Instead of getting myself out of the shit hole I had put myself in. I did that until finally, I couldn’t sleep anymore. I just laid there. I just laid there next to this man who I didn’t even know, and I was afraid I was going to slip back into the girl I didn’t know as well. And it was on one of those restless nights that I heard Ship’s phone go off. It was past midnight. Who one earth could be texting him? I had to know.

And so I did something that I had never done before. I went through his phone.

The message had come from the ex girlfriend. The same one who had been tormenting me our entire relationship. We had been together nearly a year, and she was still around. What did she say:

“Hey, is Sarah your girlfriend? Because it says you have a girlfriend on myspace.”

Okay.

First of all: Myspace? Ship had a myspace when we first started dating and he deleted it because he didn’t want his ex to know what was going on in his life. As far as I was concerned he didn’t have a myspace. And now his ex… the same ex he was trying to avoid… was friends with him and I, his LIVE IN girlfriend, was not.

Second of all: Who the FUCK is Sarah?

Third: Why does your ex think that this SARAH is your girlfriend????

And finally: Why does you ex, who you talk to every single day, NOT KNOW that your girlfriend of nearly a year is named MRSWATERCLOSET?!!????!?!?!?

I can not tell you how difficult it was for me to lay there the rest of the night next to him. I can not tell you how sick it made me to kiss him goodbye in the morning. And I can not even begin to explain to you the amount of hate I felt when I got on his computer the second he walked out the door, found him on myspace and discovered that a SARAH had writen on his PUBLIC wall:

“I miss your penis. Come back soon.”

That is exactly what she wrote. I wish I could erase those words from my mind, but I don’t think I will ever be able to. She lived in Newport Beach. He wasn’t just cheating on me. He had a whole other GIRLFRIEND.

I called Mac, we went to lunch, and we planned my escape. I waited until he got home and I told him that I was leaving. I didn’t mention anything about anything. I just said that I couldn’t trust him and that I was leaving. And I did.

Again, I wish that was the end of the story.

I cried for a day or so. It was totally devastating, even though I knew that it was the right thing and even though I was already planning to do it BEFORE the penis missing Sarah. And if you’ll remember from the HurtLocker story (cheat number 2), I said that the best thing Hurt ever did for me was to just let me go. He never tried to explain. He never went after me. And that is a blessing. I’ll always be grateful to him for that, even though it tore me up at the time. Because that is something that Ship refused to do. He begged me to come back. He refused to leave when I came to pick up my stuff. And ultimately, he got the chance to ‘explain’ himself. I had to come back. All my stuff was there. I had to move out, and he knew that. So he just waited. And finally he got his moment. And he somehow managed to get a hold of me again, and he made me believe the completely ridiculous story that Sarah was yet another crazy ex who was just trying to cause him trouble. He had an excuse for everything. Everything. And I decided to believe him…

He was desperate to get me back, but I felt like I just couldn’t jump back in. Obviously. A few nights later, I was at a party and he was out with his friends and he called me and asked me to come home. I said I didn’t think it was a good idea and so we got into a fight and I ended up crying. I was drunk so I asked my sister if she would take me up to his house so that I could get the rest of my clothes out. I was done at that point. I had had it. He was trying to win me back and it was clear that nothing was ever going to change. I was through.

So D’Monk drove me to his house at about midnight. I knew he was gone because I had just talked to him at the bar. I had never known Ship to come home before last call so I figured we had some time. I was wrong.

I was in the garage, getting my clothes out of the dryer, when I heard my sister talking to someone at the front door. It was muffled and I couldn’t hear what was said, but I flew out of the garage to confront Ship.

I am not kidding you, as I opened the door and came into the kitchen, I saw Ship pushing a girl out the back door and onto the back deck. I was totally floored. Had he brought a girl home? Had he called me and asked ME to come home and when I refused, brought someone else home?? No. Couldn’t be.

I walked to the front door and asked my sister if that was Ship. SHe nodded. She looked totally freaked out. I asked her if he had a girl with him. SHe nodded again. I sighed. I just sighed. And I think I laughed. I was just dumbfounded. I couldnt’ believe it. After everything…

I went to his room, picked up the rest of my stuff and walked out the front door and got in my sister’s car. And just as she was about to pull away, I changed my mind. He couldn’t get away with this. And so I did what every other girl would do…

I became the girl that Ship would tell his one night stand was his ‘crazy ex girlfriend’.

Ship met me at the front door and led me out into the street. He started walking away from me down the street but I wasn’t going to let him get away. He kept saying “baby… just come here.” Can you believe that? And of course I said every cliché in the book.

“You just lost the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“No one will ever love you like I did.”

“You are no better than HurtLocker…”

“Turn around and say goodbye to me!”

All the good lines. And I kept it together… or so I thought. When I got to the bottom of his street I realized that my entire face was wet with tears… but I didn’t even feel them anymore. I don’t think I even let him speak at all. I got back in my sister’s car and I completely broke down. I think D’Monk even started crying. I don’t know that anyone has ever seen me that upset. And to be honest, I think I was crying for Hurt and for Ship all at once. I was feeling the tear of both of them… the first tear I wouldn’t allow myself to feel and so this time… it was so much worse. I really thought I would never be able to trust ever again. D’Monk took me straight to Mac’s house. It was almost 4am.

Even after all of that, the saga of SinkinShip and MWC did not end there. He showed up at my house. He called in the middle of the night. He emailed. He wouldn’t give up… and my heart just couldn’t take it anymore. I kept slipping up. I would go back, for a day or an hour, but it always ended up the same way. He really never changed. And I just couldn’t stop listening to the excuses. I just couldn’t tear myself away. So I decided that I had to move away. I guess you could say that I decided it was time to RUN away.

I remember telling Mac that in my car when we were leaving the gym one day. I told her that I was going to have to move home and she broke down crying. She told me that she didn’t think that it was the right thing to do. She said that of course she didn’t want me to go for selfish reasons, but she really felt like it was a mistake to run away. She was right. I moved in with her and I lived on her couch for almost a year. And that is where I met Raps too. And with the help and support of my amazing friends, I was able to stop answering the phone when he called. And now that he didn’t know where I lived, I was able to avoid him. He was almost out of my life…

I was at my favorite club in PB. It had been months since the last time I answered Ship. He still texted me sometimes, but I had stopped answering. I was standing at the bar, about to order a drink when I saw him. He was standing at the opposite side of the circular bar and he had already seen me. He was staring at me and he has this shit eating grin on his face like I was some long-lost friend or something. I broke eye contact and walked away. I felt my phone buz in my pocket:

“You too chicken to talk to me?”

I ignored it.

But as we were about to leave, I saw him coming at me out of the corner of my eye. There were crowds of people between us and I could see that his girlfriend, SARAH, was standing in front of him yelling at him. But he was looking right over her head at me. And just as I passed, he reached over her, through the crowd and he grabbed my arm. He yelled:

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

I answered:

“Because I don’t like you.”

It just came out of my mouth, but in hindsight, it was a pretty perfect thing to say. I pulled my arm out of his grip and glanced back just long enough to see his girlfriend become enraged. And I felt this huge weight life off my shoulders. I thought to myself, ‘that’s not me anymore’. I don’t have to be his girlfriend anymore. I’m done.

And I went home and I cried. I cried because I was disappointed in myself. I cried because I was embarrassed. And I cried because it was finally over. I was really done. And I was.

I saw him one more time to say goodbye. And it was a real goodbye. We both said our piece and then we went our separate ways. Gotta love closure.

I made a decision after that night at the bar. I realized that even though he was clearly the one doing all the wrong in the relationship, I was the one who not only picked him to be in my life, but allowed him to stay as long as he did. What a waste. Never again. That is what I decided. Never again. Not even if I ended up alone forever. I was never going to let my heart make any decisions. I was not going to talk to anyone with a tattoo. I was not going to even TALK to anyone not worth the time it took to say hello. I just wasn’t. I couldn’t afford it. Between all my failed relationships, I had wasted YEARS of my life. But like I said at the beginning of this blog… hours ago… I was not going to regret a minute of it. Even then, even when it was breaking my heart, I still knew that Ship was going to be THE reason for the rest of my life turning  out well. I knew that if I had never met him, I would have never had such an amazing wake up call. I just wouldn’t have become the person I am now. And for that, I have to thank him.

Absolutely everything happens for a reason.

The next boy I dated…

…was Burny.

And the last time I talked to Ship was when he saw my wedding pictures on facebook. He said I looked beautiful. I did. And I didn’t need him to tell me that. I already knew.

The land where everything is legal

Yes, I am speaking of Amsterdam.

And I am speaking true. Really, everything is legal. Drugs, prostitution, running people over on bikes… it’s all good to go. And it was quite an experience to be there, I assure you.

The reason I am writing about Amsterdam today is simple. I was at lunch with Burny the other day and I was talking about MacTen and somehow that segwayed into talking about eating Space Cake in Amsterdam and before I knew it, I was laughing uncontrollably and Burny was completely lost. I guess it was just one of those things where you had to be there. But then I called Mac after lunch to see if my story was as funny as I thought it was and sure enough… she started cracking up as well. So even though it is one of those ‘you had to be there’ stories… I am going to do my best to bring you readers there.

Enjoy…

So we arrived in Amsterdam, MacTen and I, on June 28, 2005. We had been traveling before hand- New York, London, and then Ireland- and we would be traveling after our program in Oxford, but the exciting thing about Amsterdam in particular was this: All 8 San Diego State students who had been accepted into the Summer Abroad program in Oxford had agreed to meet in Amsterdam the weekend before our program started. And that was this very trip. So not only were Mac and I in a brand new country… we were there with 6 of our college friends! What a completely different experience.

Mac and I flew from Ireland into Amsterdam in the afternoon. We then caught a train from the airport to the part of the city where our hostel- and the rest of our friends- would be waiting for us. We knew we were going to be the last to arrive. We were armed with directions given to us by Rossco, our only friend who had been to Amsterdam before. Now, the directions we had in our possession made me nervous, I have to admit. It’s not that Rossco can’t give good directions, it’s just that he can’t give real directions. The street names in Amsterdam are, well, laughable. They can’t possibly be real words. There is no way Rossco would have been able to say them or even spell them correctly so instead he gave us a different type of directions.

“Get off the train and go straight down the stairs. Head into the square and take a right at the giant phallic symbol.”

I am not kidding you… these were are only directions.

When I asked Mac about the phallic symbo,l she said that Rossco said we would definitely know what he was talking about. Okay. Here goes nothing.

So we got off the train and it was nearly 10pm at night. Now, don’t be alarmed. At 10pm in the summer in Amsterdam the sun is still setting. It actually looked more like 7pm. But the night life had definitely started, all the same. Did I mention that we were staying in the Red Light District? Yes, that’s where we were wandering around at 10pm at night in Amsterdam. So when we got off the train, we immediately  noticed several sets of stairs. GREAT! If we didn’t pick the right stairs, we certainly wouldn’t run into the phallic symbol. Damn it Rossco!!

So Mac and I chose as best we could and headed out into the nightlife of Amsterdam, backpacks and all. There was no obvious ‘Square’ and there was certainly no obvious phallic symbol. Not even in the Red Light District. We made a quick attempt at the map but could not find the address of our hostel anywhere. We found a street sign and tried to locate that on the map to no avail as well. We even went so far as to ask a passer by- by showing him the street name on our piece of paper hoping he would just point- and even he had nothing to offer us.

So we just started walking. No sooner had we began, a man who was clearly under the control of the police officer who was walking beside him, reached out and grabbed Mac’s boob as we passed. He said something rude of course, and then the police man quickly reestablished his hold on the drunk man. I was so flabbergasted by the fact that the police in Amsterdam simply held hands with those people who were under arrest and escorted them to jail. Mac, on the other hand, was scarred for life. I could see she felt very violated and scared. She was on the verge of tears. Oh man… not good. So I grabbed her hand, told her it was okay and started walking even faster towards… well, towards nowhere. I had no idea where we were going at that point. I knew we couldn’t be far because the directions were very short, but we had seen no phallic symbol at all. I was starting to get really pissed at our stupid directions.

Finally, after wandering down crowded allies and in and out of stores, we found someone who spoke a little english and who could point us in the right direction.

We walked up to our hostel- the Bull Dog Hotel- at the same time as one of our male friends from San Diego. We could not have been happier to see him, even though he was clearly high, drunk, and quite frankly just as useless as we were. He did help us check in and find our room though, that was helpful, and then he led us down the street to where the rest of our friends were many, many drinks deep.

I was 21 at the time but for many of our friends- Mac included- this was their first time drinking in a bar. It was quite hilarious, I must say. It’s always funny showing up last to the party. You really get a good idea of where people are at. But don’t worry… it didn’t take Mac and I long to catch up. We drank a lot of ciders, our drink of choice abroad, and met many interesting people. One man in particular I will never forget. I can’t remember his name at the moment but he was very much Italian with a very thick accent and he was very intrigued by the girls in our group. Speaking generally, foreign men were often very interested in the fact that we were American. And this man in particular, was very interested in everything about all of us. He was… to be blunt… asking us for sex. In Amsterdam. Where he could literally walk outside and buy it for cheap. He was telling us all the nasty things he would do to us if we would let him. There was something about his crazy accent that made it more hilarious than creepy, but overall… I was keeping my distance.

Allow me to offer you a direct quote: “I will take three hours to go from your shoulder to your belly… and one and one half hour to find your cheese spot.”

Gross.

Now add an Italian accent.

Really gross.

That was it. We had to cut him off. He was just getting way too graphic for us. And it was at about that time that Mac and I realized that her wallet had been stolen. We had it when we came into the bar, because we had ordered drinks, but now it was nowhere to be found. It was quite a blow, let me tell you. Again, Mac was on the verge of tears. All her credit cards, her ID and her phone cards were all in that wallet. It was really very tragic. Luckily for us, I had plenty of money and she still had some travelers checks. We ran over to the hostel and immediately called her mom and told her to cancel all her cards and send new ones to Oxford. Overall, we dealt with it pretty quickly and moved on as best we could. Mac and I both tried to keep it from ruining our night. After all, there was really nothing we could do about it.

That night we all slept in bunk beds in an 8 person hostel room, where we all tried desperately to hear our Ipod’s over Rossco’s snoring.

The next morning we all walked to the Van Gogh museum. It was a beautiful walk. Rossco led us, confident in his own directions, and we happily followed him up one street and down another. We passed by the phallic symbol that Rossco had mentioned before and yep… it was pretty obvious. Had we have seen it, we would have known exactly what he was talking about.

Amsterdam is stunning. I had no idea. I was definitely not expecting that at all, but it is. It is so beautiful. There are canals between nearly every street, much like Venice. There are bridges and cobblestones and color. Oxford is nearly all the color of sand stone, London is gray and Amsterdam is colorful. There were lots of flowers and the buildings were made from lots of different materials so there was a lot of contrast. It was quite a lovely walk.

Once we got to the museum, I was not nearly as impressed by the art as I was by the city that housed it. I could really take it or leave it, personally, but I am happy that I went and saw some of his original work. I always think that’s very special.

After the Van Gogh museum, we headed back to the hostel, stopping at Hard Rock Cafe of course. America is everywhere. Right smack dab in the middle of this amazing, new culture was Hard Rock. And we were craving burgers. Once we got back to the hostel, we all showered and hit the town yet again. I have to warn you, this is where both the histerical-ness and illegal activity come into play- well technically it’s legal in Amsterdam, the land where everything is legal.

All of us, minus Rossco, took space cake together.

Don’t judge me! If you know me, you know that I am usually totally against this behavior but you know what they say… When in Rome!

So all 7 of us went into what they call a ‘coffee shop’ in Amsterdam and asked the bar tender- who conveniently spoke English- some questions about what would be the best plan for our group. We told him that some of us had smoked before and some of us had not. We told him that we wanted to have fun, but we didn’t want to lose our minds or anything crazy like that. He suggested Space Cake. We agreed. We each bought a muffin of Space Cake and sat down at the bar. The bar tender said that one muffin should be plenty but not too much so we all had our fill. It tasted just like a bran muffin… nothing else.

After we all finished eating, we headed back down the street to the bar were we had been the previous night. If you have ever eaten pot in any form before you know that it can take up to, or even over an hour to kick in, so we were all just waiting patiently. Our eyes were shifting from one person to the next, just waiting for the first person to go. That, in itself, was hilarious. Those of us who were new to the whole experience kept saying “I think it’s hitting me” and those of us who were veterans kept saying “trust me… you will know.”

It was a little unnerving. The only thing that kept me calm was knowing that it was legal, and regulated and safe.

And then we met this guy… I can’t remember his name either, but he was cute enough and he started talking to Mac and I. It had only been about 30 mins since we had eaten our muffin so I was willing to chat for a few minutes before finding a way to ditch him. He kept telling us that we needed to go to this amazing club with him later called ‘Escape.’ We knew our plans did not really exceed tripping out in the bar, but we told him that we would think about it. He was unaware of what we had recently ingested.

About 45 minutes into muffin land, Mac realized that she hadn’t talked to her boyfriend since we had arrived in Amsterdam. We made a rash decision to literally race the drugs and run back to our hostel, use the phone, and run back. We really thought that there would be enough time. And more than anything, I really thought that we were going to be able to feel the effects coming on slowly…

JumpSki, who was there with us, decided to go as our chaperone back to the hostel. What a gentleman. But between the three of us, we had maybe smoked a half a joint combined before this experience so not one of us was going to be any help in that department. Oh well…

We made a run for it. I tried my boyfriend, SinkinShip (aka cheat #3)  first and SURPRISE SURPRISE, didn’t get ahold of him. Then Mac jumped on the phone and started chatting with her much more devoted boyfriend. She was just talking with him, completely normally, and Jump and I were trying to hurry her off the phone, when suddenly… quite literally out of nowhere… I BURST into laughter. I am talking about sitting completely still and normal to laughing very loudly and crazily and uncontrollably in an instant. I guess the drugs had hit me. And the world around me was absolutely the most hysterical thing that I had ever been a part of. Poor JumpSki was trying desperately to quite me down. But lucky for all of us, it didn’t bother anyone. Everyone else around us was already high.

As I was laughing uncontrollably, in walks the same, cute guy from the bar. The same guy who wanted us to go to the club with him. There was no being inconspicuous at that point, so he came right over to us and tried to convince me to go with him to ‘Escape’ again. I couldn’t even answer him I was laughing so hard. He must have been on something too because he didn’t seem phased by my erratic behavior. He said ‘Escape’ a few more times and then walked away and left me to my laughter. Jump finally calmed me down enough so that I could catch my breath. That is when I turned to Mac to get her to hang up the phone so that we could get back to our friends. As soon as I looked at her, I burst out in laughter again. But this time I was laughing for a reason… Mac was still holding onto the phone, but her eyes were closed and her mouth was wide open in the most hysterical silent laughter that I have ever seen. It was amazing.

 Two down!

I don’t even think that she said goodbye to her boyfriend. She just hung up the phone and the three of us stumbled out into the street. Jump was holding both of us up, unsure of what exactly was happening. Apparently he was still unaffected by the bran muffin. The three of us only made it about half way down the street before we had to stop and catch our breath. I just could not stop laughing and Mac could not seem to hold her head up. Jump had his arm around her and every time she tried to lift her head, it jus slumped back down and around and into Jump’s chest. This, of course, was the funniest thing since Dumb and Dumber. Even Jump couldn’t help but laugh as Mac continued to proclaim that she couldn’t hold her head up, and then would prove it by swinging back into Jump’s chest.

Suddenly, Jump got this very funny look on his face. Mac and I stopped laughing and asked him if he was okay. I’ll never forget what he said:

“My underwear just got tight!”

Three down!

He said it so calmly, but Mac and I knew that he had finally joined the club. He continued to describe how the elastic on the leg part of his boxer briefs was slowly cutting off the blood flow. He didn’t seem too concerned… just reporting the facts as he felt them. Mac and I just continued to laugh.

It was at that point that the boy from the bar appeared again… or I can only assume it was him… all I heard was ‘Escape’ over my shoulder and then he was gone. It was so strange.

We finally made our way the rest of the way down the street and into the bar, where our friends had all clearly started experiencing the effects of the bran muffin. Again, Mac and I were the last to the party. And again, it was priceless. It’s at this point where the night gets a little fuzzy but I do remember a few more things:

We were all standing around the bar like models. I kept saying out loud:

“Oh my God. We are all standing like models right now, it’s crazy!”

I took about 8 pictures of us ‘standing like models’ but sadly lost the camera before I could develop the pictures. I assure you though, we were such good models that night.

At some point Mac insisted on finding doughnuts. Now, in all the years that I have known Mac, I have never heard her request a doughnut, let alone even see her eat one when they are available. But this particular night was different. She wanted a doughnut and there was not going to be any substitutes. After we announced our mission to the group, naturally, they all felt the unbearable need for doughnuts as well. So we were off…

Again, lucky for us, Amsterdam was prepared for the munchies. Not more than a block away- or so it felt- we found a magical store with an endless assortment of desserts, doughnuts, french fries, kabob, and anything else you can think of that wouldn’t normally be found in a store together. And other than the one brief freak out by one of the girls when we initially left the bar- it was too dark outside- everyone seemed to be handling themselves well enough.

When we were in the store, and Mac was enjoying her doughnuts, I remember a spider dropped down from the ceiling on its web. My friend Nickle- our veteran druggie- looked at me with the most serious look on his face.

“Don’t tell anyone that just happened.”

I agreed and decided that the reason was because everyone would suddenly be seeing spiders in their food. I wasn’t eating so there was no risk of that with me. But sure enough, as soon as we left the store to head back to the bar, one of the girls started freaking out over her food.

“My fries are glowing. They are poisoned. They are glowing neon.”

Mac and I just lost it again. We tried to hide our laughter from our friend, knowing she was seriously concerned that she was about to die from her neon fries, but we just couldn’t hold it in. And somehow, Nickle trying to convince her that they were fine by eating handfuls of them, just made it that much more funny.

And then, of course, I remember the end of the night. We were all back in our 8 person hostel room, Rossco was snoring loudly, Mac had “sunk into her bed and become tv fuzz” and was sleeping with a huge grin on her face, and Jump and I, along with one of our girlfriends, were sitting on the floor still enjoying the effects. I was just talking and talking and talking, about what… no one will ever know, and Jump and Checko were just laughing their butts off. I felt like quite the comedian. I could do no wrong. I felt like I had never been funnier! And I am a funny girl.

And then suddenly, out of nowhere, Checko stopped laughing… leaned over to JumpSki… and whispered in the loudest whisper I have ever heard:

“She is really freaking me out!”

And then she continued laughing as if I hadn’t heard her, clear as day.

I have to tell you, my high ended right there. I stopped laughing, got incredibly self conscious and said:

“I’m going to bed now.”

And that’s just what I did. I put in my Ipod and went to bed. I didn’t even allow the thought, ‘Why am I creeping her out?’ to creep into my head!

It was about half way through our walk to the Heineken museum the next morning when we all realized that we were still high…

Tune in next week for the rest of our weekend in Amsterdam!!

Know how I know I’m old?

Today is my birthday.

The big 2-7!!

It’s going to be a big year, I’m sure of it. If you are a reader of my blog you know that this is officially the age that I thought I would be having children. LoDown reminded me today that 27 is the age when our eggs start to die off. Women actually start to become infertile at the age of 27. Great. I guess I better get on that. But I can’t help but feel that I am doomed before I’ve even began… 

Just had a thought… what happens when I turn 30? Will I have to change the title of my blog? Hmmm…

Anyway, because it’s my birthday and I am officially turning old, I thought that I would share my day with you. It’s the start of a very important chapter of my life… I can feel it. And I can promise you that being in my LATE twenties will still provide both you and I with many laughs and many adventures. It’s not over yet. I may be approaching 30 but I am still a twenty something.

Today, was a very lovely birthday. And because TODAY was a lovely birthday, I know that I am getting old. Today I woke up at 10am to 13 text messages and 2 voice mails… all with wonderful birthday wishes. Now, again, if you know me you know that my work day does not start until 10am so if you did not get a response… that’s why.

Side bar- I feel like this might be the last year that my day is able to start at 10am. Once kids are in the picture, I know that’s out the window.

First item of business as a 27 year old: Pick up dog poop. Wednesday is the day our lawn mower people come and to be honest, I haven’t been so kind to them in the pick-up-the-poop department so I figured I would do them a favor and clean up after my little man.

Second thing I did was make a protein shake. Yes, I am officially old when I have to get myself on a cleanse diet just to get my body working the right way again. Trust me, I can’t eat like I used to. And I certainly can’t drink like I used to. I really feel like I put my SDSU education to shame when I get these hang overs now… Sad times.

Next I watched two episodes of ‘Say Yes to the Dress’. I love this show. It’s a weakness I have. Even though I am already married and quite happy to have all the wedding mess behind me, I still enjoy watching other women try on their white dress and spend WAY too much money on something they will only wear once. It’s like a drug. Usually I limit myself to one episode before I get to work, but hey… it was my birthday today.

After two episodes, which put me right around noon, I headed up stairs to the office. As I walked up the stairs I found a very unexpected birthday gift from my puppy Harper. He had chewed up my pillow case and brought it out to the top of the stairs so I would be sure to see it. How kind. Of course he was nowhere to be found… and this was quite unexpected considering he hasn’t chewed up anything in at least 3 months… hmm… I guess to a dog, that would be quite a gift. So I forgave him that. I felt much better about the situation when I checked my email and facebook where I had 64 waiting birthday wishes!! 64 by noon!! Thank goodness for facebook reminding everyone that it’s my birthday! I really felt quite special! I was very touched by the amount of people who took the time just to write a happy little note. Lovely start to the work day.

Then I made all my phone calls… the one’s I had been putting off… but I figured that on my birthday I wanted to feel accomplished. And yes, after checking off ALL the items on my to-do list, I closed up my business day around 3pm. I had showered somewhere in between calls and invite making… so by 3 I was already ready to hit the road and run some errands.

I hit up the dry cleaning across the street only to find out that they are closing in 2 weeks! Sad day!! Now I will have to go all the way across town for my dry cleaning… strike that… for Burny’s dry cleaning. So that was kind of a bummer. On the way across town, I stopped at the post office and mailed out some samples (I guess the work day wasn’t done after all). And then I headed home to find that Harper had left me yet another birthday gift, that thoughtful guy. This time he had chewed up the plastic piece on the corner of my bed. What was going on?? But again, I felt much better when I returned to my facebook page to see that I had at least 20 more birthday wishes. I have to say… this birthday in particular was the most widely recognized it would seem. EVERYONE sent me their love. It was wonderful.

At around 4pm, I turned on a recorded call for work (okay… so work wasn’t done at all) and swept and mopped my floors. I also dusted, and cleaned the burners in my kitchen. And after the call was done, I vacuumed. It was at this point that I realized Harper had ripped up 4 new holes in the lawn. He was really on a roll with these birthday gifts for mom… Kind of over kill really.

At 5 I got the mail where 2 birthday cards were waiting… with money!! Got to love that. Nice timing too… I’m terrible at that. And then I got a delivery from the UPS man with ALL of my Holiday products for Arbonne. It was like Christmas on my birthday. I knew it was coming of course, and I had paid for it so technically it wasn’t a gift, but man did it feel like one.

At 6pm I came downstairs to find Harper chewing on one of the brand new Arbonne product that I had just taken out of the box. By then I was livid!! I mean come on!!!!! It was time for the crate. We haven’t been crating him for some time now, and ironically enough, we had taken the crate down and put it in the garage THIS morning… but alas, it didn’t last long out there. He is still a puppy it would seem.

At 7pm I crated Harper and took myself to a movie: Eat Pray Love. It was great. It really got me thinking about traveling and how lucky I am to have been where I’ve been and seen what I’ve seen. It left me feeling very content with where I am, which is good because where I am is oldsville!

So how do I know I’m old?? Well… today was a great birthday. Getting work done, cleaning, eating absolutely no mexican food or drinking any alcohol… and still it was a good day. That’s how I know I’m old.

When nature attacks

Since today is a ‘Sisterhood of the Traveling Thursday’ and I haven’t blogged on a Thursday in quite some time, I felt that although it’s nearly Friday (11:36pm), I really should squeeze in a traveling story.

And since I’ve only really talked about my travels abroad, I think that it’s only fair to bring things domestic this time around. Because after all… I do actually spend more time traveling around this great country than I do in others…

So alas…

This is one of my most ridiculous travel stories.

It takes place when I was about 19 years old, a sophomore in college, living in San Diego. I remember it specifically because we were living in the haunted house at the time (still a blog to look forward to once I can figure out how to put that into words) and I only lived there while I was 19 years old.

Not really important.

It was late December. As a matter of fact, I will go ahead and say that it was 23rd of December. This is important, obviously, because my roommates and I were still in San Diego and needed to be in Northern California for Christmas. This is the whole problem that starts the travel story from hell. The problem, however, was not necessarily that we weren’t home YET. Obviously in any normal world there would be plenty of time to get home in time for Christmas. The problem was that there was a giant, unstoppable, unpredictable, immeasurable, CRAZY storm approaching…

Let’s go back a moment.

KayTown, DMo- my roommate in the haunted house and all around great friend- and I were planning to drive home in a caravan. DMo and KayTown lived in the mountains, while I lived in the valley, but we all lived North. So it made sense for us to travel together because after all… there is safety in numbers…

In most situations.

So KayTown, DMo and I, very aware of the fact that there was a storm on the way, came up with a plan: We were going to stay awake all night so that we would be able to sleep the following afternoon and early nightfall. And then we would be able to wake up around midnight/1am and drive home having been well rested. This was our original, brilliant plan to avoid the on coming, moderate storm.

Stupid Sophomores.

So after we stay up the entire night, KayTown and I were at work, exhausted, and we were checking out the approaching weather pattern…

I am not kidding you… a HUGE, California sized green blob was engulfing the west coast on the doppler radar.  It did not look good. And it definitely looked like A) things were much worse than the weather men had anticipated (if you can believe that) and B) it was coming much sooner than the weather men had predicted as well.

Shit.

So Kay and I thought things out and talked it over with our boss and headed home with only one solution in mind.

DMo, however, was already fast asleep… carrying out the original plan (Sleep in the afternoon to prepare for the long ride home in the middle of the night).

Kay and I, even though we had had NO sleep ourselves, knew we had no other option. We woke him up and we told him that the plan had to be pushed up.

To now.

It took some convincing I assure you, but about an hour or so, and 3 espresso shots later, DMo (very grudgingly), Kay and I were on the road.

DMo drove his convertible SeaBreeze behind  Kay and I (with the top up of course). And Kay and I, and all of our things for the month-long winter break were crammed into her 1938 Jeep, with a tarp for a roof.

Why you might ask?

Because Kay was going to be purchasing a new car in Nor Cal and needed to bring her old OLD car back home, and my car (a new Ford Contour) was missing… yes missing. It had been stolen. But don’t worry… I got it back a few months later.

But anyway… that’s why we were in the Jeep.

So off we went, at about 10:15pm, under what appeared to be a perfectly clear sky.

But the green mass on the doppler was telling us that any moment, things would become really interesting.

Our main concern at that point: The Grapevine closing. Who would have ever guessed that it snowed anywhere in LA ever? Well I guess that the Grapevine gets to a high enough elevation that in some storms, there is snow. And because no one in LA would ever have any idea how to drive in snow, they always close down the road when this happens.

This would 100% insure that we would not be home  in time for Christmas.

The weather man claimed the road would be closed by midnight.

We were racing the clock.

So we took off, DMo in toe, video rolling. Yes, it’s true. Amazingly enough, most of my college career was caught on tape!

We made it to about  Disneyland before we saw any rain at all. However, that does not mean that the trip had not yet become eventful. Please do keep in mind that we had not slept and that we were in a tarp covered car with nothing more than a 6 pound bag of gummy bears to eat.

We realized very quickly that a tarp covered Jeep was not really  meant to be on the freeway. Between the ripping wind and the jolting clutch, it was not a very smooth ride.

And LOUD! Let me tell you… by the time we made it home (11 1/2 hours later) Kay and I had no voice at all from yelling at each other over the sound of the wind. Not to mention, we didn’t have a stereo, so I held a boom box in my lap the entire ride and we sang along at the top of our lungs (when we weren’t in  fear for our lives).

And FREEZING!! If a tarp covered Jeep is not meant to be on the freeway, it’s certainly not meant to be on the freeway in the dead of winter! Kay and I had on sweats, beanies, sweatshirts with hoods, gloves, blankets and we could see our breath in the air the entire night.

So yes, even before the storm caught up to us, we were already having a very adventurous time.

So around Disneyland, the rain started. It was light at first, but quickly got harder and harder.

If a tarp covered Jeep is not meant to be on the freeway and it’s certainly not meant to be on the freeway in the dead of winter, then it is most definitely not supposed to be on the freeway in pouring rain.

Now we were getting wet as well.

As we approached the bottom of the Grapevine, we pulled off the freeway. We needed gas, but we were in a hurry. It was nearly midnight and the storm was ripping. I am not kidding you. It was hard to stand up straight in the extreme wind. The trees were doubling over and the rain felt like pellets. It was actually very scary, but we were doped up on gummy bears.

We got back in our respective cars, and for Kay and I that meant no escape from the piercing cold, and we headed up the Grapevine, which we were hoping and praying would not be closed.

We made it to the top and just as we were about 5 miles from cresting, the snow started…

And it wasn’t just a little snow… it was hard-core, mountain snow, right in the middle of Ventura county. Lucky for me, both Kay and DMo lived in the snow, so they knew how to drive in those conditions. The other drivers, however, did not. It’s no wonder they have to close that road at the first sign of snow. Our windshield was being covered as quickly as we could wipe it, and the lanes on the road were indistinguishable. These cars were shooting by us going the normal 70mph. I couldn’t believe it.

And wouldn’t you know it… as SOON as we got to the other side of the summit, we saw a long line of cars coming the opposite direction stopped along the roadway. It was literally JUST after midnight and the Grapevine was being closed. I couldn’t believe it.

If we would have decided to take our chances with our original plan, or even if we had decided to leave 10 minutes later… we wouldn’t have made it home for Christmas.

So needless to say… we were in a really good mood coming down that hill. And as we were coming out of the snow and returning to the normal, crazy windy rain storm, we were really thinking that the  worst was behind us.

Ha.

That’s not how it works when nature attacks.

At the bottom of the Grapevine we saw, way out in the distance, a glowing light. Now, it is pouring rain and it has been for quite some time. If you have driven up I5 you know that at this point in the journey, there is nothing left to look at. Especially at night. The middle of this busy state, California, is simply empty. It’s very weird.

So naturally, this glowing light caught our attention  and held our attention for the 5 or so minutes it took us to actually approach the glowing light.

As we got closer, we could see that it was off to the side of the road, maybe 50 or so yards off to the left, and then suddenly we realized… it was a fire.

A fire on top of a pole… Assumably a telephone pole of some sort. But there was really no sign at all as to how or why it was burning. No car wreak. No down power lines. No other sign of any damage. Just one large fire at the top  of this one pole.

In the pouring rain.

At that point I got a call from DMo asking me if we too could see the fire. Um… yes. He also had no idea as to what could cause such an unexplainable fire.

We laughed, the three of us, about how random our trip had been. First clear skies. Then rain, then ripping crazy wind, then snow, then fire… I mean, what could be left?

Fog.

Yes, fog came next.

A few hours up the road the rain started to let up and the terrible wind started to die down… which I have to point out, really did nothing for our hearing conditions in the tarp covered Jeep.

And just as we were thinking “Maybe we are through it”, Mother Nature came and slapped us across the face.

All of the sudden, out of nowhere, we found ourselves in the thickest, most dense fog I’ve ever seen in my life. And it was still freezing.

We could hardly see DMo’s headlights behind us and we were sure that at any moment, we were going to smash into the car of another stupid college duo in front of us who we couldn’t see because of the crazy fog.

But alas, we made it through the fog too.

And then we stopped for gas again.

By this point in the trip, all three of us were fried. I mean, haven’t slept, been at a 9 on the stress scale for hours, freezing and annoyed kind of fried. We got out at the gas station, completely empty except for us morons, and we danced. We turned up DMo’s car radio and blasted “Move your body” by Eiffel 65 as loud as we could and we danced. It was one of the most amazing moments of my life.

When we were ready to leave, I offered to drive the tarp covered Jeep but Kay didn’t think it was such a good idea considering I didn’t know how to drive stick. I figured two things:

1) Once I got on the freeway, there would be no more need to change gears and

2) It’s not like I trip could get any worse…

Kay still said no. DMo agreed. There was NO WAY we were going to throw that out in the universe to be screwed with. Clearly, things were not going our way as it was.

Back in the car, we drove right into more windy rain. It seriously felt like the longest, most incredible journey of our  lives. And although we managed to maintain a sense of humor about the whole thing… we were definitely over it by hour 7.

The pouring rain and terrible wind continued the rest of the way. I remember coming into Woodland over the river and across the coz-way. We were trying to pass this huge semi in the rain and wind on that narrow road and the truck kept creeping into our lane because the wind was pushing it so hard and I was thinking… We are going to make it this far, through all that, and we are going to die 5 minutes away from home.

They were both going to be spending the night at my house before continuing on into the mountains.

But  we didn’t die. We lived. We made it all the way home. And we made it in time for Christmas. We got home on the morning of Christmas Eve I believe. Early in the morning. And we were very grateful to have made it in one piece.

I will never forget looking at that Doppler radar picture and seeing the entire state of California being swallowed up…

We lived it.

We survived when nature attacks.