Giving thanks. Just a little late.

Thanksgiving has come and gone and thankfully so have those ridiculous social media posts being thankful for this and that each day.

I am not saying we shouldn’t be gracious and share the wonderful things in our life.
Don’t get me wrong.
I just don’t think I’m buying into how sincere all this is if you must be prompted to express it.

Yes, you love your kids and your momma and your dog and your sweetheart and pumpkin pie and your favorite sports team. I do too.

Well … most of those things anyway.

I might be sarcastically moving along in life but I do take time to genuinely appreciate and thank those who make it just a little more awesome to be alive everyday.

For the sake of laughable tradition I will throw it out there for you. The top 5 list of things I am grateful for this year (and all year).

1. A roof over my head.
It’s no mansion in a gated community but I have a warm comfortable place to plant my pajama clothed ass on a couch every weekend. It might be dusty and cluttered but it’s mine.

2. A great job.
Seriously, I pay for my own house and have weekends to sit around in my pj’s. I’m grateful. It also affords me the luxury of browsing for my next Groupon.
It’s a good job but it isn’t like being a CEO at Apple. I’m not Bill Gates and my neighborhood watch list doesn’t include Oprah. I’m doing alright just the same.

3. Smart kids.
They do really, really dumb stuff on occasion but I am not raising idiots here. Not a single kid got pregnant, dropped out of school, got arrested, or ran away. I consider this a fair amount of luck and decent parenting. Whatever the percent of luck – I am thankful to not be a young grandma. 

4. An amazing spouse.
This is a tricky one. Not to say I’m not thankful for the perfect life partner but I am more thankful she came around at just the time she did. It took me a long time to grow up and mature and know myself well enough to know what I need in life. I made bad decisions and learned from past mistakes. I broke hearts and had my heart broken,  more times than I’ll admit.
I’m most grateful she isn’t one of those learning experiences for the history books. I’m also grateful she’s only going to wear those fuzzy Batman Pajamas for the duration of the winter season. They look ridiculous. Sorry, babe.

5. People who read my blog.
I know what you are thinking cause I’m thinking it too. I’m geeking out here. How could I be so lame?
People who want to read what I have written are right up there with stretchy waist pants.
I heart each and every person who likes, comments or emails me about my blogs as much as I love getting away with leggings on a work day. This fashion trend needs to hang on till I’m retired. 

I’m sincerely thankful each and every day for the time to write, the things to write about, and the sarcasm and wit to make you all want to continue reading.

In the spirit of things please feel free to leave a comment about what you are most thankful for. 

In a world full of strangers

Everything you have read from me has been hilarious.

Fine, it was at least funny in parts.

I try to be light hearted as much as possible. No matter what. Anything to make the next day better. Sarcasm helps.

Some days though … there is no strength left for better.

Some days it just feels like I’m dragging around a body. Just posing my limbs throughout the day like a stylish department store clothing display. Moving my mouth to form words in such a way that to call it interacting with society would be a generous stretch.

I’m in autopilot and I’m surrounded by strangers. Overwhelmed, emotionally exhausted, dramatically desperate.

I left the doctor today with strange news. There is a major malfunction in my body but it is fixable. Correctable once the source of the problem has been diagnosed. Probably. Hopefully.

Great news, right? No.

I like to be in control. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. I am great at being in control. I mean it’s not like I land airplanes for a living but I direct and reflect trouble like a boss.

Except now. Right now I am all alone. I am broken. I don’t want to share the pits of my despair with anyone in particular. I don’t want to pour my story onto a white page to be discovered by strangers.

Actually. Yes. Yes, I do. I want to share my story. It’s not always witty and entertaining. Sometimes it’s sad and raw and real.

The entirety of the situation is rather embarrassing really.

That makes me sad.
Or mad.
Not gangster style mad though … more like blogger mad. Instead of roughing up the rivals I will take to my blog and punch the keys with intent. That’s right, the sound of my typing can probably be heard from outside the house.
I’m an angry typer.

It’s been a tough couple weeks. I have not blogged purposely because I didn’t want to share sad. Sad isn’t witty or funny or entertaining. It’s just … sad.

Not very long ago I watched my children walk with contained excitement onto an airplane destined for the other side of the country. To be delivered to the other half of their parental unit. They couldn’t wait to find their seats and I panicked when I lost sight down the airplane corridor.

I cried on the way home.
I lost control.

I will miss them. They are gone for a few more weeks. If they need me I won’t be there. I don’t know what to do with that. How do parents do this? Why is this a thing?

Yes, they are safe.
Yes, they are healthy and happy and having a blast.
Yes, I’m still crying.
So what.

Also entirely out of my control?

My marriage. My beautiful, amazing, brag worthy and public love letter inspiring union.
What could be so bad about that? My fairy tale is made of regular everyday normal people, that’s what. People who sometimes reach a crossroads. I have no control over the depths of my love and just the same seemingly no control over the limits of human patience. My carriage may have turned into a pumpkin. No fairy godmother, just humble pie. Good thing I still believe in happy endings.

Sometimes you just want to go where nobody knows your name. Where you are surrounded by strangers. Where you only need to be in control of you.

I need to be reminded that the world still turns, the sun still rises and the moon will still beckon to the lost souls. Even if I get lost in the crowd. Even if I get lost and have to relinquish my control.

Sometimes I just need to be in a world full of strangers.
with my humble pie.
a glass of wine would be great too.

Why amusement parks are family glue

I took a long weekend from work so we could escape to our favorite amusement park for a few days. Little did I know that it would be more than roller coasters and a few trips down some water slides.

This was a big weekend. The weekend. The one before the kids catch a plane destined for a location across the country to spend summer with their father. It had to be right. It had to be awesome. Alright, it had to be awesome to the kids.

And it was.

It was more than awesome. It was family bonding and moments that can not be taken back.

Alright so in true fashion here’s what happened the last couple days …
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Friday morning we scrambled to gather our backpacks and overnight necessity stuffs. Just a couple backpacks for the park and water park and a hotel bag each. We left at the crack of dawn. Alright maybe it just felt like it, with my love rushing me to get out of the bed. It’s easy for her, she just showers and miraculously is put together. I on the other hand need a team of experts and a barista to get me to look alive.

I gathered my things quickly and waved goodbye to the dogs. I explained that everyone was waiting for me in the car but the dog sitter would be by later. I gave them each the “don’t eat the sitter, just burglary suspects” look and hoped they understood. I think the little one winked. I’m not sure why but it seemed like a good sign.

Our drive was easy, our passes from last year had indeed been renewed and scored us free parking. We even found a spot right near the entrance of the park. I love when that happens. Even getting the kids past security was a breeze. So far so good.

The first day we split our little family into pairs and the bravest amoung us went to ride the brand new giga-coaster. I won’t lie, it was intimidating and I wasn’t sad to be taking on smaller rides with the scaredy cat child.
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After a few thrilling and a couple little less than thrilling rides we made our way to the water park and took a leisurely stroll ran like newly released zoo rhinos to the wave pool.
I don’t think I have ever seen more excited faces.

It’s not as if I have never taken my kids to this amusement park.
I have.

This time was the first with our little family as it is now. The first time ever for teams of 2 and a family of 4.
My love and I were called out equally, to watch new dive moves and to ride water rides with my offspring.

It made my mommy heart swell with such pride.

The kids announced that they were having such a great day, a perfect day. I danced a happy dance in my head.
I mean it.
I broke it down like nobody’s business.

I was ecstatic that my kids were having such fun. That our little family unit, on this little family outing, was so sucessful.

There wasn’t a fight, there was no whining, no complaining no sarcasm. Okay, there was sarcasm.
Lot’s of sarcasm. It was epic.

On day 2 I didn’t want to get up. Suprise, surprise. So I was rushed. Hair in a messy bun and everything from the hotel room thrown quickly into our bags.
Again, everyone was waiting in the car for me.

We got to the park at the same time but didn’t get as great a parking spot. It still wasn’t terrible and we were grateful to not have to walk from the next town to the park entrance.

Like the day before, we split in pairs so that the adventurers could use their season passes for early ride privileges on the new coaster. The more level headed child and I went straight to the water park so that we could get in and get our favorite location claimed before the masses came.
We were met at the gates with a very colorful family. The mom may or may not have been a star on that show “Here comes Honey Boo Boo” I’m not totally sure but there were some clear similarities to the mother. They seemed polite but eager and we waited in the #1 and #2 spots at the gate. I was worried I might have to kick a leg and trip a reality TV star but they headed a different direction once inside the gate.
Lucky break.

I secured our prime location, some drinks and snacks and we were soon joined by the adventurer crew. I listened intently to tales of the feeling “the free fall” and “almost coming off the tracks.” Whatever that means.

It didn’t take long before the sun beating down and the intense crowd began to take their toll. My sweet, happy family started to get cranky, sunburned and begin to turn on each other. It was time to ride some more coasters and consider the drive home.

We left the water park and began to notice the sky was becoming dark. Ominously black.
Then it started to rain. I began to second guess trying to ride any more rides as we took shelter in a vine tunnel. with about 50 other people.
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We waited out the storm and then ventured out, damp but our spirits were unbroken. We found a cute diner and the kids ran off together to ride a neighboring coaster.

Finally, a moment alone.
It was short lived but long enough to chat and we collectively decided to head home after the kids exited the last ride.

It was not our first trip, with,the 4 of us, but it was so much more meaningful than any other.
There was bonding.
I don’t just mean the sticky dried coke on the souvenirs cups kind of bonded. I mean actual love and good energy and laughter.

I didn’t just get a killer tan, I got family time. I don’t know which I’m more excited about. In fairness red heads don’t tan like this.

The thing is amusement parks really aren’t just coasters and crowds. It’s a chance to bond, reconnect, and fall in love. I am pretty enamoured with my crew right now … and my tan.

1st anniversary, that’s paper right?

It’s almost that time!

Remember the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland freaking out about the time? Yeah. Put that bunny in a red curly wig and a sundress and that’s me.

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Just add a red curly hair.

It’s almost our first anniversary.

Seriously.

One whole year since we became wife and wife.

A whole freaking year of ups and downs and all arounds. We danced around the “for richer or poorer” and all those traditional vows whether we said them or not. It hasn’t been easy but it has gone fast and if I could do it all over again I would. Except slower, and I would have started blogging about way sooner. All the good and the bad and unbelievable love.

All the things marriage is. It all came around in our very first year.

Now it’s time we celebrate that we lasted this long. It’s just an anniversary but it’s a big one. People will be cashing in on the bets they placed 12 months ago kinda big. Giggle if you will, the odds for a big payout were probably great if we made it. We love hard and we fight like someone will have to stop breathing before it can be over. Ok, not really, but it has been close.

She will be expecting something super romantic and I will be expecting something sweet and heart-felt. What neither of us is expecting is to run out of time and it’s ticking on.

We never do anything small. If you have followed my blog to date you may have glimpsed what married life is like on the inside. Gift giving is a major task. We go big around here.

I’ve requested the advice of co-workers and I’ve googled “first anniversary” and nothing jumped out. Just paper stuff. Sometimes really expensive paper stuff. I am all about some sentimental names on canvas but that isn’t her and therefor isn’t us. Tricky territory. This anniversary thing is almost worse than the ridiculous wedding markup. If it says wedding or anniversary you’re going to pay triple. True story.

I tried to search “first gay anniversary” thinking that might bring me to something unique but personable but still nothing. Well nothing G rated and appropriate for sharing. I did get some ideas though. We will see what she thinks after I present her the anniversary gift of all gifts. If she hates it I will keep those search results for a plan B. Always good to have a plan B.
kpbktick tock tick tock … running out of time.

and ideas.

running out of what little sanity I was holding onto.

I can’t get a re-do on the very first celebratory year of marriage. It almost feels like getting married again. I’m so nervous. Not “what if I don’t fit in my wedding dress” nervous. I can still eat pizza. The kind of nervous that compels me to wonder what happens if this doesn’t turn out as beautiful and magical as I planned. That kind of nervous.

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Time waster. I love it still.

I’ve looked at Pinterest and still nothing.  Unless I want to spend a day making paper dolls of each of us with materials I will need to hunt down in a craft store.

The problem is I am neither crafty nor patient enough for anything on Pinterest.

and it makes me hungry.

Has anyone ever actually browsed pins and not been bombarded by super fanciful flower adorned cupcakes and exotically named smoothie drinks? each served in cute mason jars sorted by size and color? sitting neatly on a handmade shelf of reclaimed wood?

Seriously.

I’ve got no time for funny pictures of kittens and recipes I will never make.

I need an idea. I need to get creative.

Maybe a giant glued together construction paper card with glitter and pop up hearts like a toddler’s first book about dinosaurs. That sounds like a lot of work though.

Back to the drawing board. By which I mean the internet.

I’m ready for another vacation … please

I’m back!

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My love.

Okay. I’ve been back for a few days.
It doesn’t look much like it though.

I still have half packed suitcases. Several in my bedroom, each opened and rifled through, with random colorful articles hanging half in and half out into the floor. One would think I am living out of them. One would be mostly right.

It’s not that I’m lazy, it’s that I still don’t have that hand maiden / personal assistant / volunteer slave I’ve been asking for.

I’m really busy catching up on my shows on the DVR, deleting voice mails and dragging myself back to work. Ironically I’m doing the same thing there, deleting more emails and cleaning out my email inbox trying to catch up on work gossip.

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I simply don’t have time to unpack and clean up after myself let alone my family. There should be vacation time after a vacation just to pull yourself together. A few days maybe to detox your liver and unpack. Time to hang up all your flowered shirts to the back of the closet again, and to wash and put away display proudly all those obscenely large souvenir drink glasses.

All this vacation crap. I need to do something with it besides ignore it and take a nap.

It’s a glamorous life I’m living.
We are approaching day 5 of post vacation and I had to pull my sandals from a pile of rumpled tee shirts declaring a successful Daytona trip from the bottom of a sandy suitcase.

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We definitely brought some sand back with our suitcases, gear and souvenirs.

Just add it to the normal house clutter we left when we exited the house to go on vacation in the first place.

The clutter that still needs to be cleaned up from 2 last weeks ago. I don’t know where it all came from.

The sand I mean. I’ve got an idea about the clutter.

We rinsed and shook and otherwise left enough sand in and around the hotel that I was sure we weren’t bringing any back.

Now I see I was wrong. So wrong. So very wrong.
The dust bunnies are building sand castles in the corners of the stairwell.

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There are still clothes to be unpacked and washed. The beach gear is still in the front room, stacked in a corner. It will continue to wait, either be put away or carried back to the car for the next trip. Chances are it will still be there for next time.

You wouldn’t know I took a week in the gorgeous sun, day drinking on the beach and crashing pool parties by night.

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except for the dark circles under my eyes

and the tell-tale peeling of my sun burned shoulders

Cardigans over my summer dresses and some concealer under my eyes. Working magic over here.  I look tan, refreshed and pulled together. Except for the fact I’m talking to myself about the fact that I’m still mess under this disguise.

Being a woman is sorta awesome, you can go from ship wrecked and floating on a board for weeks to paparazzi ready in about 10 minutes. or 30.

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If only I could use my magical woman powers to clean this vacation mess. If anyone has any post vacation tips to share I would appreciate it.

Feel free to leave your comments, I will either mock you or sing your praise.
It’s a 50/50 gamble.

Kinda like finding my favorite shorts in one of these suitcases …

Beer slushy, monkey poop and a beach trip.

I have a full life. There are not enough hours in my days or days in my week.

What I want to do, what I would like to do and what I need to do are entirely separate.
Similar to a zoo, without the zebras, elephants, lions and monkeys it’s just a few caged animals. All together it’s a zoo. Like my life right now.

A freaking zoo. A strange new attraction around every corner.

If I start charging admission maybe I can afford a snow cone machine with a beer option.

That might actually solve all my problems now that I think about it.

I don’t sleep enough, I dream too much, and I can relax rarely. It’s catching up to me.

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Every day. Monday – Friday

My career choice keeps me on my toes, it’s unforgiving some days. Lucky for me I have the next week off. Sort of. Mostly.

I’m fairly certain at least once a day my thoughts will be consumed by a “problem child” … anyone who has ever worked an advocate position knows exactly to who or what I refer.

I find it similar to what having a fire-breathing, baby animal eating, dragon as a pet might be like. As much as your job is to please the masses there are some you simply can not. Sadly, like a pet dragon, you can’t exactly just find them a new caretaker. You can’t dump them at a nice farm-house in the country. Nobody wants to deal with an asshole of a pet dragon. Even when you go on vacation. Still your my problem.

wpid-f531c7312407d88733ef3de72ddaa157.jpgMy children (as offspring often are) happen to be entirely dependent on me to entertain them, feed them and house them in a comfortable home. The same home which they are constantly being told to clean their messes from.

The laundry is ever piling, the fridge constantly emptied and the noise ever-present.

The bathrooms are always smelly and the toilet paper rolls are always empty.

There are dirty, mismatched socks and single shoes in random places and I’m pretty sure I nearly stepped on another Lego.
The Wi-Fi is slow and the cookies are gone. A sure sign they are hiding somewhere watching Netflix while I mop the sticky substance from the kitchen floor.

They are too big to put in a basket on the church steps. At least I think so. If I have to play “guess the smell” again I might hit up the container store for the biggest basket I can find.

My spouse who I give my conditional love makes me absolutely crazy sometimes. Like now. She’s making me lose my mind. right now.

You know those plaques and signs in the zoo which tell you about the animal you’re standing in front of? Well marriage doesn’t come with those. There are no guides or maps. There are no little foot print marks to tell you what to do or where to go next.

Not at all like this. I would be alright with this.
Not at all like this. I would be alright with this.

You are on your own. If you get lost and can’t find your way, the next step could lead you into the boa exhibit where you will be squeezed lifeless and consumed.

Ok, that was dramatic but that’s what marriage feels like. sometimes.

We are about to head to a beach front hotel for a week. Just us. Sounds like a romantic dream doesn’t it? Now throw in a tiny budget and little sleep. As much love as we have we are only human and sometimes it’s not always coming up roses. I keep looking for her hand, maybe together we can reach the exit door of the aquarium building and stop feeling like we are under water.

imageAll we need to do is get to the warm sunshine outside the exit door but it’s elusive.

and I’m too tired to form the words for directions.

and I’m too pissed off to ask her which way to go.

remember how I said sometimes she’s an asshole? Yeah that.

I miss the days of throwing caution to the wind and leaving with nothing but a bikini and a toothbrush for my next adventure.

Unfortunately I am trying to keep up my zoo. If anyone finds the door labeled “beach – this way!” let me know.

Until then I’ll just be over here with my beer slushy, teaching monkeys not to fling poo.

I just want to go to sleep ..

Sleep. I’ve come to realize when I need it, its elusive, like Big Foot or Loch Ness.

When I would really like to stay awake I’m pretty much out with zero chance of not drooling on myself.

It is evenings in particular that I find myself alone, with a workday ahead in the morning, that I can’t seem to fall asleep. Nights I need my rest to function when the sun rises. The nights I can take up the entire bed, pile all the pillows under my head and wrap myself burrito style in our blankets without anyone complaining.

These are the nights I can not convince my body to go to f*cking sleep.

I tried turning the air conditioner on, apparently a cooler room helps you sleep. It’s not helping. Someone probably made that crap up so their lovers body would be as near theirs as possible for warmth. I’m just smothered by bed covers, my cheeks are cold and I’m being assaulted by blanket burrowing dogs.

I tried to watch TV, no go. It’s not safe to venture there. There is nothing on the DVR I won’t end up binge watching a marathon season of.

I tried to lay still and breath deeply, clearing my mind. Next thing I knew I was thinking about whether my love had text me back and then I had to check my phone. Deep breathing mission aborted for the opportunity to digitally flirt.

I would try warm milk but then I’d want cookies too. I need to look amazing on the beach for vacation in just over a week. No milk, no cookies.

I might even consider taking some sort of sleep aid but then I likely would not wake refreshed. Or my luck, ever. Everyone knows that’s a terrible plan, even for those of us who don’t operate heavy machinery.

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I have reached an age where I require more than 5-6 hours of snooze time or everyone I come into contact with the next day will suffer the consequences. It’s just not pretty any way you look at it and I don’t just mean the bags under my eyes.

Worst of all is my magical ability to pass out cold snuggled into my love at any given time. This little trick happens regardless of any plans we may have had that didn’t involve sleeping.

It’s a curse really. When I’m alone there is zero chance of sleep and when I’d rather enjoy her company I’m out in minutes.

To make it all worse it just so happens we work opposite schedules. This means we spend 1/2 of our nights separated. It’s awful and should somehow be illegal.

Maybe the next time I can’t sleep I’ll Google it.

Alas. Here I am thinking about what I should wear to work tomorrow…

and what we might do this weekend…
and whether my kid had me sign his homework …
and whether anyone fed the dogs tonight …

It’s a glamorous life I’m living. Especially when I should be snoozing.

a not so private love letter

Once in a while things go perfectly right and you thank your lucky stars. Everything just falls into place so perfectly and you just know it couldn’t get any better.

Yeah, that has never happened to me. I do thank my lucky stars though for 2nd chances.

Or 3rd. But who’s counting anyway.

The point is right now I really don’t know if things could get better for my deepest sincere desire to love and be loved. I want to shout from the rooftop or write in the sky. I want to let the world know what she already does.

I am ridiculously, head over heels, shamelessly in love.

There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not reminded of my own feelings. Even on our darkest days I can’t deny that I have never in my life had someone give me butterflies, even now, like I experienced day one with her.

There was a time I was absurdly sure we were not going to make it. I was broken in a way I have never felt. It didn’t take me long to realize that inability to walk away was the truest, most honest form of love. It was brutal.

We worked hard to work it out and I realized that I never wanted to let her go. I knew then that nothing would ever be stronger than we could be, together. I knew even in my bravest moment I am that much stronger with her at my side.

I was sure I had fallen in love a million times, it’s who I am.

I never knew though that real, true lasting love is a secret combination.

It’s not something for now, it’s not just a trend. It can not be defined in words and it changes as we grow. I have tried to figure it out, how it is that this feels so different. The recipe is still in the works. I know this for sure though; you need laughter, honesty, respect, patience, understanding and a healthy dose of lust for good measure.

I am incredibly lucky to have found this with her. Incredibly grateful she chose me, that she chose us.

She is my one. She is every love song ever played, every poem ever read and every promise ever whispered.

She is my idiotic bliss and I am forever grateful.

 

 

Please pass the tissues. I’m sick.

I am by no means a wimp when it comes to being sick. You don’t birth all your babies each 2 years apart, survive 2 divorces, go to college as an adult and work to paying your own way in life just to curl up and surrender to a little cold. You just don’t.

Allergies though, that’s a way different story. I’m waving the white flag. Okay. Maybe It’s a Kleenex. Still, I surrender.

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It’s a fairly new phenomenon for me personally. I have stood guard every year since my baby boy suffered throughout his first season. I did my very best to be sure he was medicated and comfortable. I visited many a pediatric specialist and sat holding him for countless breathing treatments. He is a healthy happy 10 year old now with just the common seasonal and pet allergies. He doesn’t seem to be allergic to everything anymore.

The problem is that suddenly I am. Me. The momma of steel has been brought down by tiny particles unseen but powerful enough to make me crumple like straw paper in the McDonald’s drive-thru.

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I mean sure I remember once my parental units bought weird cheap laundry soap and I got a little itchy when I was just a kid. Never a runny nose or rash or infection related to allergens again. I was a normal kid, no signs or symptoms that later in life I may need to live in an adult sized bubble.

It was all rainbows and lollipops until I moved down here. I was healthy and for the most part mucus free.
This place though, it’s different. This is the land of trees and mountians and killer pollen levels. Every year for the past 4 or 5 I have had a steady worsening of my symptoms. It doesn’t take much; cat fur, trees, flowers, soap, dog dander, lotions, stupidity, dust, air and on occasion my wife. Every freaking thing I come into contact with causes some form of irritation.

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I am miserable all year round at random times, indoors and out and I have to hunt for the culprit. It’s like a “Where’s Waldo” for the new thing I have to disinfect, avoid or give up. I am sick and I’m tired of searching for what the problem is. There could at least be a warning beep when I come near a contaminant. I don’t think that’s asking too much.

So here I am, half a days work done and a days worth of Sudafed pumping in my blood stream. I am hot and cold, my throat hurts and my joints ache. I have sinus pressure so bad I am almost positive my worst fear will come true and my head really will explode. I am tired but I can’t sleep. I am hungry but I can’t swallow. No, it’s not some weird disease. It’s allergies.

Tree pollen. Dog dander on my pillow. Cat hair on the sofa. Old lady perfume in the drug store check-out line. That stupid fake tree in the corner of the office. I might be ok with just one but spring and fall both throw me a toxic combo hit straight to the face. I can’t avoid it and I can’t go on like this. I’ve got to outsmart my poor genetics terrible descision making.

The next time I spend an evening soaking in an outdoor hot tub maybe I will take an antihistamine before we go … and maybe I can give up that 2nd glass of wine while I’m medicated. Maybe I will deep clean the house more often to keep pollen and pet dander at bay. Maybe I will ask the dog to get off my pillows and sleep in her dog bed.

That’s a lot of maybe and not a lot of likely. 52c08c26fbbb2d6b1bc3ad7d571b16ad

In the meantime if someone could please hand me a tissue I would really appreciate it.

The funny thing about gay marriage.

It’s ok. I’m allowed to say “gay marriage” and you are too and so is everyone and everyone is. It’s a topic we are all reading about and hopefully talking about. Whether it is in hushed whisper or shouts from the roof tops, I would bet it has been present at some point in your day this past week.

The news is all about it. I know you’ve seen it. The rainbow flags and Supreme Court headlines and picket signs and grandmas for gays. It really is everywhere. The thing I want to know is anyone really paying attention to what it really means? What it means for you or your neighbors or your friends or your co-workers? How about your kids or your grand kids? A historic movement is taking place right now. It could mean nothing to some but it means everything for the future.

Ok no more soap box speech. I promise. At least for now.  This blog was meant to be funny and I will do my very best to keep it light hearted.

So here goes – the story about what this all means to my little family.

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You all know I have a wife. She’s kinda an asshole sometimes but I love her more than any words in this blog will ever express. In July we will have been married a year. That’s like 8 years in a hetero relationship. I know these things. I hope to spend the rest of my days laughing at how much we annoy each other. We validate one another and that should be all that matters but it means everything to have the right to say “we do” and we did. Every single couple deserves the same right.

The sad fact is that we live in a state where our legal marriage has only been officially noted for just a few short months. The day the state of North Carolina announced the ban had been lifted I was elated.  It was like my being was validated. Not that I am worth only what society views me as but it still felt like I was worthy of everything that was granted to me before I married her. It was like we were just gifted a pair of magical unicorns following a lottery win, announced by a dragon holding a welcome sign to our fairy princess castle where a surgeon was waiting to give me a tummy tuck.

Yeah. It felt exactly like that.

A late but magical wedding gift had been bestowed upon us. It was surreal. I was at work and I wanted to stand on my desk and proclaim I was legally her wife. That I had a legal spouse waiting for me at home. My co-workers would have looked at me like I was high. One eyebrow raised and shaking their heads in bewilderment. They knew I was a newlywed but they never questioned whether it was “legal” here. It just was not a concern to them, it was not a big deal. It was a huge deal to me.

Imagine for me for just a moment sitting across from your significant other and knowing under the law, in the state you reside, that he / she is not your legal spouse. Imagine that those rings you wear and the certificate you signed are just ornaments. Imagine if you fall ill and can’t make decisions for yourself, that your love will not have legal right to see you. No decisions can be made for you. Your lover will not be holding your hand, they will not be by your side. That is not your spouse. Not legally. That person across from you is your roommate.

Alright now snap out of it.

For the majority of you that will never be your reality. For the few of you who wish it were – shame on you. Jerks.

So here we are. This is happening. By the end of June a historical decision is going to be made. This will matter. This will be the reality of the future. I will no longer take a drive to visit the in-laws only to be “unmarried” when we cross the state line. Although sometimes that sure sounds heavenly in all seriousness it’s an awful hit to the gut. every. single. time.

Until the ruling is made I will be over here holding my breath and holding her hand. because it matters.