My Fucking Hole

So... a hole. I've found, in recent weeks, I can dig a big ass hole. I can throw myself straight into this hole (I keep wanting to type "whole"... what am I, an idiot?), make a bed, and maybe work a bit of a pillow into the dirt that I affectionately call "my fucking hole". Ahh yes... My Fucking Hole... I must use the proper capitalization. My Hole deserves it. So... back to the point... if I ever get there... I sat in my hole, watching Without a Trace, eating Lean Cuisine and Peanut Butter on a spoon (I fell off the wagon), working out (only thing that kept me from sleeping all day), and feeling sorry for myself in between. But, I started weaving a rope. This rope would later help me escape my Hole, but it broke a few times first (it was made from my hair... it's not that strong.. and from the many words of encouragement I am afforded). So, after a few failures, one nasty bump on my ass, and premature balding on one side of my head, I made it out of said Hole. It still follows me around, though... This Fucking Hole probably follows behind many of you. So, I'm armed with a "sexy set of collar bones", and a good feeling I'll be seeing Matthew in about 3 months... give or take a week.
Anyway, it feels good... to be back to the numbness that is this life. Yes, the numbness is comfortable... lonely, yes, but familiar.

My Mama helps a ton... and I thank her a trillion tons. So, here's to my Mama... isn't she gorgeous?

Support: a one-way street?

Support: a one-way street? Current mood: silent
I want to blog. I need to blog... but a good blog escapes my mind.
Support... is hard to ask for... I refuse to beg.
Support is easy to accept.
Support shouldn't be so hard to offer.
It is easy to give... it is so fucking simple.
I'm missing things... numerous things. Aside from the obvious, I'm missing certain company I used to be afforded. It's just gone. I am at a loss at how to get it back... you see, I'm not sure how I lost it. It claims to still be there, but it's obviously different. It's forced... it's there out of obligation, not desire.
I miss it terribly.
I miss Matt, also. So bad my eyes burn, but do not tear, thinking of his hand. The tears well up, and recede. They wait for another day. Another day when I'm not so exhausted from other (more stressful and confusing) delimas. So emotionally drained I don't even want to cry.... for fear I might not stop.
Not having the answer.. fucking sucks.

Silence can be fucking deafening. It's worse when no one hears you screaming.

life's little quirks

I've fallen into a particularly disturbing pattern. A pattern of self-pity. I hate it. I really can't even describe it on paper... which is just as disturbing. I don't even want to; it would make it real. It would make this last week real... but this isn't real life. I don't live a "real person's" life. I live a life most don't know about... they hear about it, but don't talk about it. They make their "contributions"... little yellow magnets tacked on their cars... Red Fridays... "thank your husband for his service" comments. I'm still wondering if anyone thinks about those left behind, and their "service". I can see it... the look I get from people who live outside of this war. It's a look full of disbelief, and pity. They don't believe this is actually happening. I remember, I was one of those people. It wasn't "real", then. Now, it's just a nightmare. It's a nightmare that's got 4 months left... it's a nightmare where I can't freaking sleep if not just to dream. It's a fucking nightmare. I just want to dream for a while.

my review of Pirates, Dead Man's Chest, movie

I'll let this guy say it for me... speak Ninja! (it's long, but funny)
..>

too little too late

What's the appropriate wallowing time? one week? a few days? I hope I don't exceed some set standard. I feel like the "Wild Nights" marathon (on Discovery you freaks) was far too much wallowing yesterday. The 15 days before he got home... a freaking eternity... the 15 days he was home... never long enough... 15 days feels like a small appetizer when you're starving for a 15oz. Ribeye because you haven't eaten all day... or in 8 months. Although, it was grand... let it not be overshadowed by one wife's whining. It was grand. It was nice to jump right back into our "tease/love each other constantly" routine. I can't believe I've lived this long without him... I can't believe I must live longer, without him. I can't believe a lot of things. Most of all... I can't believe myself sometimes.
This is my life, and I live for this life (obviously). I wonder sometimes if he got out of the Army... how I wouldn't be an "Army Wife" anymore... a fact many t-shirts I have shout to any passer-by. What t-shirts am I going to get now?? Crap.
Deployment... so many stages of it. It's impossible to relate if you've never experienced it. Now, thinking about each moment without him, is too impossible... too impossible. Too surreal... Now, I know. Now, I know what every moment feels like when he is away. There are no "good" byes... it was a long, hard, "bad" bye... harder than the first. The reality was there, and now it is here, eating a hole in my stomach lining. It fucking hurts.

Pictures: www.dropshots.com/vmcgraw

Matt makes a b-line for his baby

Towards the end of the video, you see Matt head straight for me!
Video Hosting - Upload Video - Video Sharing

Rinse and Repeat

She insisted... she wants to look pretty for Daddy too!

sleep does not come easy

I squint my eyes when I hear someone say, "I'm a genuine person," or "I don't care what others think about me." I squint my eyes because I wonder... I wonder does saying this make it believable, in one's own mind? No matter how many times a statement is repeated, it does not make it fact. In my experience, people really do say things to hear themselves talk. Everyone cares what others think, even God. Maybe I (for example) don't care what Jane or Joe passing on the street thinks of my shirt, but I do care how my family views me; what my husband thinks about me; and what my friends think about me. If you are "genuine", the people around know it, and there is no need for it to be vocalized. A genuine person does not need that sort of validation; although, it may be nice. If you're a good person, when you go home at night, you know it.

One more thing... don't give advice if it's unsolicited... please... it's annoying. If I want to cry on your shoulder, that's all i want... is to cry. I don't want my "problems solved"... I just want to cry. Silence helps more than forced comfort or advice.

Anyway, back to attempting to sleep... it's impossible.

Joyous days are few, but they are these days.

Oh man... my mood today: OUTSTANDING! I woke up with a moan, and slowly threw myself out of bed... a few hours went by without word of Matthew's whereabouts. Then, phone rang... Illinois number... it's Matthew!!

me: Hi, Honey!
him: My baby!
me: Where are you?
him: Iraq.
me (sadly): oh... when are you leaving?
him: don't know.
me: really? crap, that sucks ass.
him: it would if I weren't in Kuwait! HAHA! Fool you!
me: That's not cool, honey! But, YAY!
him: I leave here tomorrow night. I should be at DFW Thursday 0955 (oh-nine hundred fifty-five).
me: sweet...

So, there was a lot of "inappropriate for this public blog" exchanges... but i'm so flippin' excited. I was really down the past week. Worried, anxious... freaked out... but now... I have a flight time. I have a terminal number; I have a gate number. I can meet him at the gate! I'm going to go up Wed night and stay at a hotel... I won't be able to stand it here. I can't do that drive that morning, and then back again the same day... I just can't wait. My legs are shaking.

Thanks to you guys that offer me so much encouragement. On the outside, it may appear as though I am strong all on my own, but I'd be nothing without all your kind words. I know I say I don't need it, and that this is my life, my choice... but I appreciate the shoulders that are offered. Thanks. Thanks a ton. :)

God's Country?

I got back from running, not too long ago, and I say to myself, "Self, check the weather; that was a hot run." So, I click on the trusty ol' weather.com favorite, and there you have it... it's 94 degrees out at 8:30pm... but no worries, it only feels like 114!!! WTF... Texas isn't God's country anymore; Satan lives here!

nail bitters anonymous

So, since I was a nine year old youngin' I've been a nail bitter. Not just "pull of the white part of my nail" sort of bitter, but "bite at my cuticles until they bleed" sort of bitter, a serial bitter, if you will. My good friend the Softball Slut challenged me to a contest about two months ago. She said, "Stop biting your nails, and every Sunday, if you haven't bitten your nails all week, you can get a manicure." Well, I haven't had one manicure, but I haven't bitten my nails since. And at T's request, here is the proof...

project- completion

So, I've finally finished my project... to give you a reminder of what the chairs looked like before,
and... here's what they look like now...
I'm pretty happy with it... they still have a weird shape to them, but I like the color now. Have a good Sunday.

That's mah quote bitch!

Fuck. My mood sucks. I can't get out of it. I need a laugh... sooooo... now begins... "That's mah quote bitch!"

Something you are notorious for saying.
I'll start...

"Tha fuggin' bitch..."

4 days and a wake-up...

Insomnia sucks. Insomnia especially sucks during a prolonged period of anticipation. Insomnia kills when you (for instance) don't really care for sleeping pills... especially when they don't quiet your mind anyhow. The waiting for sleep to come is a far greater annoyance. Always with the freakin' waiting. A story begins in my head... with me on a beach alone; a beautiful sunset accompanies me. This sunset becomes perfect when Matthew joins us. Pristine as they may seem, things can collapse and crumble with a shift in the Earth's crust. A tidal wave. Then, humanity rebuilds itself, and before I know it... it's 20 years later, I'm president, and I moonlight during the holidays as Santa.

Worse yet? Waiting... waiting... insomnia... waiting... then... delay...

4 days and a wake-up...

Stop kicking me

I walk into my closet... I let my elbows graze his clothes. Chills shoot through my arms, and head straight for the muscle in my chest. Its speed increases for a time, then slows to its normal erratic rhythm. As this day is full of his laundry, I realize I've missed the sweaty socks, stinking PTs, and cologne filled polo shirts. His clothes only smell of dust... 7 months of house dust. My excitement, now polished and fired up, causes a nervous tick in my feet. I pound them with impressive speed on our wood floors. I couldn't thread a needle, if asked. Caffeine is really unnecessary. My metabolism is increased each time I think of 8 days... tomorrow, 7 days.

It really is unreal how quickly time has passed. These 25 years and some odd months have gone quickly; why shouldn't this year? Yea... 7.5 months. One would think time might stop. Groundhog day, everyday... for both he and myself. When he goes back his battalion will already be planning their return to "the states" (seriously, what American calls I" 'the states"). Only 4.5 months left. Wow... think of the respect we shall both have for one another. It's already increased two-fold... even more so when this year of waiting is over.

I kick myself for my uncertainty. When I'm weak... when I weep. When sorrow over comes me, and I've fallen on my knees. I'm harder on myself than any other person could be...
Tonight my thoughts tonight are broken and disconnected. I'll stop here.

PS 'shroom... I'm gonna channel me some energy in about 8 days give or take an hour.

too much too late

I'm not sure how many times I'm expected to say... but this is my life. I've chosen this life. It is mine and I belong to my life, and my choices. I've never made excuses... okay, I shouldn't say never... but concerning this life, no excuses. Yes, I'm under pressure; yes, it is difficult; yes, I get down... but in no way do I use this as a reason to act like an asshole. I've never said, "you need to be nice to me because my husband is off fighting a war..." Never, have I brought my situation down on anyone but myself. Yet, some of those around me (and some that do not surround me as often as I'd like) seem to think I live in a glass house. Some seem to think I might break if one were to peer inside my windows. It's far easier to ignore me than ask of my well-being. So, the real truth is skirted around. One tip-toes so as not to disturb the delicate balance that are my emotions. Because, afterall, I am that fragile. I do understand, to some extent, the easy silence. I take advantage of this easy silence. I am not too busy to call someone... I just choose to not call. I know it's not in my best interest (in the long run), but in the short time it's less stressing to avoid condescending conversation, and listen to the opposite end of a telephone line, dead. The difference between myself and those I speak of? Well, I admit my unwillingness. Through my faults, I am stronger. In the end... I will know. I will know who was there, who wasn't there, and who is still there, and I will know who claimed to be, but wore a mask. I will know. There's no need for anyone to say the words. I know. Those I thought would be there... those I needed to be there, aren't. I find comfort in the oddest of places... in most unexpected places. I am thankful. Repeat after me... I am strong. I am strong. I am stronger. I am not perfect, but I am stronger.

You've only had barely enough, to hang on.

I'm a pissy bitch today. So far, I've cursed 4 people under my breath. I think this is getting to me... 12 days. SHIT! There are far too many hours in this day, and the next... and, I'm certain, the day after. Can I sleep through the next week, please. Thanks, God... you're a pal.

Let's discuss the nature of shitty friends... okay, this is how it goes...
Girl 1 meets Girl 2
Girls 1 & 2 become best friends
Girl 1 introduces Girl 2 to boy 0 (zero)
Girl falls for boy 0 (lowercase, by the way)
Girl 1 continues to try and be Girl 2's best friend
Friend status is reduced to "good".
Girl 2 claims to "be there for" Girl 1
Girl 1 has doubts
Girl 1 and boy 0 have a fight
Girl 2 chooses boy 0 over Girl 1 because of said fight
Girl 1 keeps her mouth shut about how she never sees Girl 2 anymore
The "good" in friends is removed and Girls 1 & 2 are merely "friends"
Girl 1 confronts Girl 2 about her continued patience with boy 0
Girl 2 gets angry
Girl 1 and Girl 2 exchange nasty emails for a few days
Girl 2 says a lot of mean things to Girl 1 about her husband's deployment
Girl 1 decides she has to let it go or fight forever
Girl 2 never apologizes
Girl 1 forgets about it
Girl 1 & 2 and Girl 3 make plans to hang out
Girl 2 ditches Girl 1 & 3 for boy 0
Girl 1 & 3 are furious
Weeks pass
Friend status is now at an "acquaintance" level.
Girl 2 asks Girl 1 to drive 70 miles to hang out with her and Girl 3
Girl 1 decides she only wants ot hang out with Girl 3
before Girl 1 has a chance to tell Girl 2, Girl 2 has already revoked her offer to hang out with boy 0
Girl 1 decides her and Girl 2 are no longer friends.

So, yea... that's pretty much how it happened. Stupid friends. Stupid boy 0! I hate him.
Anyway... back to my own reality... I have to shave my dog, for the second time this summer. It's so flipping hot. I'm going to go be pissy elsewhere.

"We own a Va JJ- we're entitled." -Eban!

I've been trying to keep myself busy as the nerves under my skin become tighter and tighter with excitement. I've taken up quite a few projects to pass the time: furniture refurbishing, scrapbooking, living room furniture rearranging, closet organizing, mowing the lawn twice a week (instead of once... it's really straight), dancing, drinking (not a healthy "project", by the way), running (a healthy project... in case you didn't know), and I have had an increased interest in music recently. I'm shaving my dog's hair tomorrow. Fun stuff. So, as if I needed extra incentive to look forward to whom I'm missing... I get a call from my sweet mother-in-law... she's booked a room for Matt and I in Ocean City, MD... two nights... on a beach... half naked... free. I can't believe it! It's all I can think about (and my R&R present that happens to be a digital camera)! Anyway... I see east sunrises, west sunsets, bikinis, picnics, and a ton of... well...

Ocean City, MD

Guest: "Hi, room service?"
Employee: "Yes, ma'am?"
Guest: "Would you mind sending up a good bottle of champagne, please?"
Employee: "Yes, ma'am, right away."
Guest: "Oh, and some strawberries too, please."
Employee: "No problem."
Guest: "And some whip cream."
Employee: "Yes, ma'am (chuckles)."
Guest: "In... ah... a can...?"
Employee: "I'll see if we have that variety."
Guest: "Thanks. Could you leave it outside the door? I don't want to get dressed."
Guest #2 (in the back ground): "Don't tell him that!"
Employee: "Not a problem, ma'am (more chuckling)."

So, one chair is complete. Which do you prefer? Top? Bottom? I'll let you decide... meanwhile, I'm starting on the other chair. Then, I'm going to the thrift store to see what other ugly furniture I can find! Bye!