Passed!

The winds this morning are big and loud. We might as well be in Kansas. At least our fence has held up.
I passed my ACE test! Not like straight A or anything, but I am very pleased. Now that I don't have that huge dark cloud hanging over my head, I don't know what to do, or think about.
I am happy to say things are just chugging along over here. No big news. And that is a very good thing.

Two things.

Hubby's home, sick as a dog. When he coughs he sounds like he's been smoking a pack a day for eighty five years. Ear infection. Sinus infection. Barfing. Pink eye.
I am not joking. He has all of these. ALL AT THE SAME TIME.
He ended up dehydrated and in the hospital in Vegas. Oh and? No one called me. What the heck?
Are we serious?
And I thought he wasn't calling me because he was having such a good time, or maybe he was tired.
New topic: I am taking my ACE Group Fitness Instructor exam on Monday. This means I have been studying my little patootee off everyday since I signed up at the beginning of this month. That was before I checked the website and the "suggested" timeline for taking the test, which read, one year.
I mean, really, they must think we are all dummies but at the same time I did bite off a really really big bite of physiology, anatomy, and kinesiology. Especially coming from a girl who took ONE science class her entire college education. (I did take a whole heck of a lot of English but that doesn't mean I can spell). And I don't remember taking any science of any sort in high school. Is this stuff even science? I wouldn't know.
I am studying as hard as I can and praying for a miracle at the same time. The test is expensive, not to mention the practice tests I've already paid for.
Which is why I should be studying right now. It's what I turned the darn computer on for anyway. How'd I get in here?

I ain't miss'en you at all.

Yesterday I got up sometime in the five o'clock hour to make Joey some coffee and see him off to Vegas, where he ran a race. I tried to act all cool and collected, no mushy gushyness, but you know inside I was already missing him like crazy before the door closed behind him. Hearing his truck start out in the driveway about made me cry. What can I say. I am all married and codependent and shit.
It was so nice getting up early and having peace and quiet before the bombs drop (aka my children) that I decided to do it again this morning. I feel like a total stud. And coffee with honey and half and half, paired with a piece of Trader Joe's Cinnamon Raisin Bread toasted with butter, makes me feel like I am at the Milworks in Graeagle (little coffee shop that smells like coffee and cinnamon and fresh baked bread) or maybe Paris. It is perfection. And a much better way to start the day than whining (Little Lear numero uno) and screaming (Little Lear number dos).
But I do miss my husband. Going to church without him is like coffee with no honey. Or cream, for that matter. It's bitter and boring. And a little sad.
But I am pulling myself up by my bootstraps (that's the right way to say it, right?) and being all strong. I even made the bed.
I don't miss you honey. Not at all.

Boogies.

Well I have been so strong and haven't really said anything significant about it but when I sit down to write, it's the only thing going on in my head: I am sick. And have been since the last two weeks in February. This is wearing me down. I am quite pissed about it.
I keep charging through day after day, going to work, teaching at the Y, but I feel like one big Kleenex filled with neon green boogies.
Seriously.
I can't smell a darn thing, I can't even taste tropical jelly beans for goodness sakes. I can't even smell my own morning breath, which I am sure is horrific based on the fact I have to sleep with my mouth completely open like I am dying. I wake up with the driest mouth ever.
I am sorry, I know this is all totally disgusting.
I am glad we put a tube in Ethan's ear, because he is also sick and this would have been a no questions asked ear infection had we not. Noah seems to be holding out as well.
Joey, on the other hand, I think has pink eye. I would be completely freaked out about getting that too, but--o wait--yes, I already had that. In both eyes.
This has been the worst winter here ever. This morning I seriously looked on weather site for San Diego's weather, which ironically wasn't much different than ours today. But I don't think Daelynn gets sick like this. I am ready to pack my bags and move. I hate the winters here more and more each year.
And yes, I know "weather" isn't supposed to be directly related to sickness but in my book it is.
End of story.

Manhandled: What the Dr. Ordered.

A long, long, long time ago I bought Joey a massage. It was an act of love. I didn't think twice about having some girl's hands all over my husband's body; I only thought of giving him a relaxing and luxurious experience. This is when we were poor college kids living in a shoebox on campus with nothing but pure, naive, giddy love holding us together.
Then life happened and six years later, suspicious, jealous, insecure, and bitter, I told him in a very nice way I wasn't comfortable with him getting a massage from some other female that I have never met (and therefore was not able to say yes, go ahead, she's ugly, or HECK NO, that girl is way too hot-don't you even put a finger on him).
He was, a little, peeved. Just a bit.
I even added I would be more than happy to give him massages. He rolled his eyes.
Before I axed my husband's freedom to get a massage now and then, he gave me an 80 minute massage and scalp treatment gift card (I swear he is such a better human being than I am). I called to make my appointment and the lady on the other end said, " I have an opening with Tim at four."
Tim.
Tim.
Hmmmmm.
"Sure, that will work just fine."
When I told Joey I was getting a massage from a man it was like I was telling him that I had a turkey sandwhich for lunch.
Oh, that's nice.
Hmf.
"Tim" turned out to be almost as scary as I imagined him sitting in the waiting area. Late thirties, beard, (yes, beard), slitty eyes, nervous smile. Not too tall, gangster sneakers, hairy knuckles.
As I followed him back to the room, where we were going to spend 80 minutes together, I took a deep breath and acknowledged to that suspicious, jealous side of me that this was, entirely, her fault.
The room was dimly lit with a mural of Tahiti or someplace painted on it's brown walls. It was hot. There was island music playing. It's smelled like oranges, and coconut sun tanning lotion.
We chatted a bit, I told him about my accident (focus on the neck, buddy, the NECK), and he left me to get undressed.
Here we go, I thought as I slipped off my pants.
I got onto the table and waited nervously, sweating like a pig, for him to come back.
The first touch of his soft man hands surprised me and as tense as I was, immediately relaxed me. He very slowly, and very firmly, pressed his hands down from my shoulders to my ower back, and it was pretty much all over at that point. He was really good.
Sure, I freaked out with him doing my legs, especially the upper parts (I hated him for a moment when he adjusted the sheet at the you know what area--I mean common, my eyes were closed but it's just creepy as everything to think he could have snuck a peak. Sicko.)
He burned me with the scalp oil and it was kinda gross to have him running his fingers through my four inch hair, but other than that, I left drunk relaxed.
On the way home I thought about all of it and realized none of it helped me with how I felt about Joey getting a massage from a girl because I am not Joey.
The whole man massage for me was awkward. Great massage, but awkward. That's all I know. That night I told Joey if I hadn't been late for dinner I would have bought him a certificate for his birthday (which I still will probably do).
It basically comes down to what it always will come down to: do I trust him?
And I do.

Miracles.

Yesterday I came home from work and in an hour of madness fed Ethan and I left overs, cleaned up, fed Noah peaches mixed with rice cereal (and a prayer it wouldn't clog him up), read Ethan two stories, let him brush his own teeth while I put Noah down, then sang Ethan a train song he l.o.v.e.s., then a quick prayer while wondering if the theology is correct, and then getting a little irritated that I have to be thinking about that while saying a quick prayer before Ethan goes to bed.
Then I was able to brush my hair and my teeth, wipe a q-tip under my eyes to get the black smudges off from wearing mascara all day, and a tiny, half spray of perfume (didn't want Joey thinking I was trying too hard).
And then as I was getting the coffee maker ready for the next morning, he walked in, and it was peaceful and I was looking forward to spending time with him.
This is a miracle.

Three Penguins.

So I went to Ross, the most dangerous place in the whole world. In fact, it was even more dangerous than usual because I was stressed (Ethan...tantrum...you understand) and the trip wasn't planned.
You know what that means: Shopping with No Conscious!
I loaded up my basket like a squirrel collecting her nuts for winter.
I found some delightful penguins that I just could not resist. They now look down on us when we are in the kitchen or living room, like little gods. Of course they didn't look right where I had pictured putting them while I was in the store, but nothing ever does. They were supposed to go on top of the entertainment center, the main piece in our house (sad to say but it's true). However, when I placed them up there they were a little scary looking. They needed a spot that was a bit conspicuous, otherwise when you walked into my house it was like "AHHH! PENGUINS!"
I also bought a crazy big picture to hang over our mantel, and that just didn't work at all, not did it work anywhere else in my house unfortunately. That meant another trip back to Ross, but we'll talk about that a little later.
Then I found two dresses that I knew would fit perfectly so I did not have to try them on. I love clothes like that. I had three in my hand, but I put one back to prove to myself I had some control. Ha. (See below).
I found some sleek and very comfortable sunglasses that I L-O-V-E. Now if I can just not lose them...or break them...
And then I threw in (not literally of course) a beautiful sexy black vase for our bedroom and two black picture frames for the new pictures of Noah that should be arriving soon.
It was a lovely day.
Oh yes, but that picture, remember? That I had to go back to Ross to return?
Yeah. Like five more dresses later. And a purse.
*sigh*.....and my husband still loves me. Penguins and all.