Memorial Day

"Although no sculptured marble should rise to their memory, nor engraved stone bear record of their deeds, yet will their remembrance be as lasting as the land they honored."

 ~Daniel Webster

What a HAIRY Situation

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

I won't regale you with a boring and long-winded story. I think the pictures explain it the best.

My life felt drab, so I decided to do some FIRE ENGINE RED:

FIRE ENGINE RED didn't exactly work out. But that's why God invented "Color OOPS!":

Now how do you fix a "Color OOPS" OOPS? With more "Color OOPS!":

Well maybe if I bleach it?:

That color isn't so bad. But it's still a bit too yellow. But hey, that's what toner is for, right?"

OMFG I'm GREY. I guess I could always blame it on "deployment stress"?

So now (the grand unveiling):

400 million shampoos later (using medicated anti-dandruff shampoo and dish soap, and alternating deep conditioning hair mask in between washings) I have achieved what I consider to be a "tolerable" platinum:

It's still looks a bit white depending on what light I'm in, but I would much prefer to have hair that's almost white than be straight-up GREY. (hey, you can even se my piercings in that picture).

New Care Package!!

The news today....care packages and piercings.

Here's my latest care package, just waiting to be mailed out:

(and can I just admit that I sang the whole song all while making it..."ice ice baby...dun dun dun dun dun dun dun...vanilla ice ice baby..")

Thanks to my bloggy friend Gaile for a) letting me come over and use her scrapbooking supplies and machines and also b) making me a margarita :) She is probably single-handedly responsible for this care package actually existing at the moment.

Not the Green Weenie Again..

Funny story... (that's usually code word for UN-funny story).


The Marine Corps messed up their paperwork.

According to them, I'm 5 months pregnant and due in September. Now, under normal circumstances I'd say that error is comical. Here are a bunch of Marines running around making preparations for my husband's R&R to coincide with his baby's birth and there isn't even a baby! HAR DEE HAR HAR. Ya...har dee har my ASS.

Given that oh...I dunno...we've been struggling with fertility issue for the past 2 years, my husband is in the middle of nowhere, everyone around me is popping out kids left and right, and I don't even have a hope of becoming pregnant for at LEAST another year (simply due to DH's absence...don't even get me started on the months of fertility treatments it's probably going to take after that)...well needless to say I don't find their paperwork error to be funny AT ALL.

In fact, I find it to be utterly depressing. It makes me want to shoot someone in admin (disclaimer: I do NOT advocate violence against government officials).

My husband...the "glass is half full" kind of guy that he is, tried to make me feel better about it, joking about "if there's something I need to tell him" or how maybe he just has super sperm that is able to travel trans-atlantic. But it didn't work. I got off the phone with him and sat in the grocery store parking lot (where I was at the time) and just cried.

So thanks for making me feel spectacular again, Marine Corps.

You know...it's a real shame the "Green Weenie" isn't literal or I'd have been knocked up ages ago (I guess there is humor in misery)

Care Package update

Hopefully by now I've actually managed to add all my new followers. If I forgot about you, let me know :)

Now what do I even blog about today? The kitchen is clean (translation: there are no longer dishes in the oven). I've managed to stay on top of the kitty litter (translation: I just bought 40 disposable litter pans). There's food in the fridge (translation: There's hot dogs and bread).

I guess maybe it's time to start on a....*gasp* CARE PACKAGE. Yes, remember those?

Well the one I'm working on now (and will hopefully finish tonight) is called "Ice, Ice Baby!"

It's pretty much everything cold/blue/icy. So I have icy hot packs and muscle cream, toothpaste and a blue toothbrush, blue deoderant, dentyne ice, cool ranch chips, glacier freeze gatorade, a battery operated fan, frosted flakes, and some other little blue/icy/minty tidbits. I've gotten as far as putting blue paper on the inside of the box so maybe with a little encouragement (wink wink) I will have this sucker in the mail tomorrow!!!!

The littlest things...

Make me OH SO HAPPY!

Today a lady I work with invited me to have breakfast tomorrow before our work meeting at pala casino.

For some reason that just made me OH SO HAPPY to know that I may actually be on the road to having friends.

I know maybe 4 people in the whole state. One bloggy friend, 1 unit wife, and 2 gay guys. Lol! But maybe...just maybe I am meeting others.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Wow may has gone fast!

Hard to believe that it's almost over. That means I've gone 3 months without my husband.

I'm still alive too. 3 months and I'm still alive :)


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Tricare....Spawn of Satan?

Where to even begin....

I enrolled in Tricare Prime last year at Hill Air Force Base. They let me choose my own off-base PCM and I did. I never actually went in and had any appointments or anything, and I didn't really bother changing it when we moved out here, until now.

We live about 10 minutes off post, but we're 15 miles from the hospital (which translates into about 30-45 minutes of driving, depending on traffic, and another 10-15 minutes trying to find a parking place in that God-aweful tea cup they call a parking lot). I went to the Tricare Service Center on base today to change my PCM over from my old Utah doctor to someone here. I had already selected a family practioner within WALKING DISTANCE to our apartment. He had excellent reviews and I wanted him to be both mine and my husbands (and eventually our child's) doctor. And he was accepting new patients. Plus his partner was an ob/gyn so it was like perfect.

Well, Tricare didn't think so. Rather than allow me (and them) the convenience of letting me go to the doctor 30 seconds away from our front door, they assigned me a doctor on base in INTERNAL FREAKING MEDICINE (not even general or gyno), then put me into the Naval Hospital system. Now that I'm in the system, they won't let me out of it!!!

As this was all happening, I asked the lady at the TSC if I could please have a doctor off base...can I fill out one of those Tricare PCM change forms please? She glared at me. "NO!"

So I left the TSC, called Tricare, and asked them how to change my PCM.

"Oh no problem, just fax the PCM change form to us....oh wait no....you're already in the Naval Hospital system. This is out of our control. You're going to have to get them to let you change, since it's now their issue."

So I call the Naval Hospital and ask them what to do.

"No, you have to have a doctor on post because you live within the 30 mile radius."
"But it takes me 30 minutes to get there"
"Yes, but it's in the radius. You can come in to the TSC though and ask them."
"I have to drive 30 minutes back on post to change my doctor to avoid driving 30 minutes on post?"
"Yes, ma'am."

So I call Tricare back and this time go through an entirely different phone tree and get someone different. She looks through her map, asks me zip code, consults the map again...

"Well it looks like you're only 5 miles from post"
"Yes, but it's another 15 or so to the actual hospital. The base is very large"
"Hmm...ok well, I can't really do anything. It's out of my control. You're going to have to go on base to the TSC and petition them."
"Do they have a phone number?"
"Well, call the hospital and have them transfer you though."

So I call BACK to the hospital, explain whats going on, and ask for the TSC.

"They don't have a phone number."
"Oh, they don't? Well I really don't want to have to drive back on post. It's 30 minutes."
"Well, that's not true. They have a phone number. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but if you call Tricare and ask them, they will transfer you to Camp Pendleton TSC."

Ooook....so I call Tricare back YET AGAIN, and explain what I was just told. The lady asks me to wait a minute and transfers me through...TO THE PERSON AT THE HOSPITAL I WAS JUST TALKING TO.

I ask her what is going on. She says just give up and come on post. I ask her what exactly are the guidelines to change to a PCM off post and she says that they probably will deny my request because we're only 5 miles from base (plus another 15 from the HOSPITAL...geezus).

So, Tricare....this is what I want to know.

Why, in the name of all things holy, do you have in-network PCM's who accept tricare prime IN FALLBROOK if you won't let anyone actually go there? What do I have to do? What am I missing? Do I have to go and see this "Dr. Vu" I was assigned to and have him refer me to this other guy every 4 visits? Do I have to use standard? Do I have to pretend to move back to Utah, switch to a civilian PCM and then switch BACK to one out here?

Seriously...none of this would have happened had I just ignored everyone's advice and faxed the PCM change form to begin with. But everyone kept telling me I HAD to put myself in the Naval Hospital system. I HAD to go to the JRC and change my PCM with them. I HAD to do that in order to even get a doctor. Come to find out, I could have just faxed the form to the main tricare office with my request and gotten the doctor I wanted to begin with.

Is there a way to get out of the Naval Hospital system or is this like a lifetime without parole kind of situation?

And let me just make myself ABUNDANTLY clear...I DO NOT, under ANY circumstances, want to have a doctor on post. It has nothing to do with the "motrin cures all" mantra (well, maybe a little). It really just has more to do with the nightmare that is that hospital. Getting there is a pain. Parking is an even bigger pain. Finding my way around is a ROYAL pain. And what am I supposed to do about my husband? He can't get in to medical to save his own life. I had to take him to a civilian ER in Salt Lake City when he had freaking pneumonia. I would much rather HE have an off-post civilian doctor as well, because things might actually get done.

I have nothing against Dr. Vu. He is technically a civilian doctor and actually used to work at the medical center in fallbrook that I so desperately wish to go to. I just really wanted to NOT be fucked by the green weenie for once. Is that really to much to ask????

Oh and before I forget....what genius at the Naval Hospital came up with the idea of playing techno rock while you're on hold? The LAST thing I want to hear when I'm about to rip someone a new a-hole is "doooba dooba chicka chooo....dong dong booopbleeeboopbleee dinga choooo"

Dramatic Deployment Story

Today was one of THOSE days. You know...the ones where so much stuff goes wrong that it almost becomes hilarious. And then that ONE thing just tips the scale and suddenly you don't even have the emotional stamina to cry, all you can do is laugh at your own misfortune.

WELL, that was today. It all started after work when I came home and remembered that the LDS missionaries were supposed to be coming over.

My house was (and still is) a complete and utter HAZMAT zone. I walked in the door after work and was bombarded with the vile smell of cats (I LOATH the smell of animals and 99% of the time our house smells like roses and cookies, but the past week I've sorta "neglected" the litter box). It just so happened that the litter box was so disgusting and full I decided that rather than clean it, I was just going to chuck the whole thing and start over from scratch. Seemed like a good plan at the time...

I jump in my car and race off to the pet store. I get there and they are CLOSED. I had a near meltdown in the parking lot so the lady was nice and let me run in and grab some of the disposable litter pans. I rush back home, set up one of the litter pans for them to use, gather up the other 2 litter boxes and begin hauling them to the dumpster.

I'm about halfway down the exterior stairs carrying the extra-large covered litter box (FILLED to the brim with cat excrement and trash) when suddenly I bumped the railing. The cover of the box flies off, the bottom pan crashes to the ground, tumbling down the stairs leaving a nice trail of cat poop all the way down the stairs and onto our neighbors front porch. *groan* And I'm not talking like there was a turd here and there, I mean the ratio of poo to litter was pretty much 200:1.

I rush to the dumpster, throw the box away, scoop up as much of the solid waste as I can, rush back upstairs, grab a broom, rush back down, and begin sweeping the cat crap underneath the bushes (what the heck else am I suppose to do????)

I get that mess cleaned up, head back out to the car to get the box of fresh litter I had just bought. It's one of those stupid cardboard boxes with the flimsy plastic handles...and I'm a weakling. So I'm hauling this thing down the walkway when suddenly the entire top of the box rips clean off and all the fresh litter pours onto the cement. Then it starts to rain.

So not only is there a pile of cat crap underneath the bushes getting moistened up, there are now 10 pounds of fresh litter becoming soggy and gross on the walkway. I rush back up, get the broom, rush back down, try and try and sweep it back into the box. The end result is there is now soggy cat litter with sweep marks in it,  and I have a broom cemented over with clumping cat litter.

I walk back into my house, on the verge of tears, and get once again bombarded with the smell of cats. So I decide maybe I can mask it with air freshener. Oh wait...I'm OUT of air freshener. So I turn to the next best thing...hair spray. I run around the house hairspraying everything trying to get the smell of herbal essences to permeate through the cat aroma. So now there is cat litter everywhere, trash everywhere, dishes all over the place, AND my apartment smells like a pet salon. Great.

At that point I was pretty fed up. I looked over and noticed my plant had died and my garbage bag had a hole in it. That was the tipping point. I picked up the trash bag and hurled it out the front door (literally...hurled). Next came the plant, flying out the door. It actually rebounded off the railing and back into the house the first time (sending dirt everywhere). But the second time it got some nice air and bounced off the stairs before tumbling down to the story below. I threw the broom off the balcony. Then I looked around for more things to throw, but there was nothing, so I stormed downstairs, picked up my plant, came back upstairs, and threw it out the door a third time, then let out a war cry and started laughing.

And that is the scene that the missionaries came upon....a histerically laughing housewife in pj pants standing over a pile of soggy cat litter repeatedly throwing a shriveled house plant from her second story apartment. They were nice about it...offered to dispose of my trash, newspapers, and dead plants. Then they pretended to overlook the horrid cat smell when they came inside to help me some more, and averted their eyes from the disgusting sink, all the while proclaiming that I "kept a fine home" and "they had seen worse".

They said nothing about the fact that I still have groceries sitting in plastic bags in the living room and I think I'm going to just pretend that maybe everyone does that...just to make myself feel better.

Being a Military Spouse (Part 2)

Well I was just sitting around today looking at pictures and I decided to go back through some of my old photo albums on facebook. I came upon a picture. It instantly brought back such intense feelings I couldn't help but blog about it.

It made me REALLY think about what it meant to be a military spouse. Why do I put it with all this crap, the fighting, the deployments, the separation, the bullshit they like to call Tricare (don't even get me started on that...).

Why do I do it?

This:

I remember that day so well, like it was yesterday. It stands out more than my own wedding. All that waiting and writing. I was a noob then, oblivious to military life and the green weenie of the Corps. But it was that obliviousness that made me really be able to stand back and look at things as they really are, without the politics, the drama, the heartbreak.

MY HUSBAND made something of himself. He set a goal and he achieved it. And it made me DAMN PROUD of him. I don't think I've ever felt more proud of something in my entire life. Not my high school graduation, not my scholarships, nothing.

It was a different kind of proud. When you see someone struggle so much to get somewhere and do something, when you see someone go through what he went through just to make a life for the person they love..the feeling is indescribable.

And that's what I'm resting on now. When I sit back and think FML this is BS why am I doing this, I think about him. As much as he is doing this for me, I'm doing it for HIM. I simply go back to that feeling of intense pride, seeing him graduate and become a Marine, seeing how excited he was, and that's what I focus on.

I'm back...with Awards!!!

Once again, my apologies for being a complete blogging stick in the mud this past week. I haven't had a job in 2 years (literally...I've spent the last 2 years just "hanging out") so now that I HAVE a job I'm running around like a chicken with it's head cut off.

If you are a new follower and I haven't followed you back yet, I'M SORRY! I'm getting a wee bit behind on keeping track of things around here. So if you would, just comment on this post and I promise I will go through it tonight and visit everyone's blogs.

Now on to the awards...I was given 3 awards. Firstly, I would like to thank Mel over at Head in the Game. Heart in the sand and Jesseandmarissa at Living the Life of an Infantryman's Wife for the Sweet Blogger Award. Then, I would like to thank Bryceandwhit over at Army Wife for the Versatile Blogger Award!

So, as per the "Versatile Blogger Award" rules, I must list 7 things about myself. So here we go:

1. I am always late. I'm one of those people who tries soooo hard to be on time but is almost always late. Even if I'm "on time" I'm usually the LAST person on time.

2. I'm addicted to vampires. I love vampires, vampire novels, vampire movies, vampire TV shows, vampire clothes, etc etc etc.

3.I have a black thumb. I even managed to kill a cactus once, that's how bad it is.

4. I come home from being out and immediatly change into my pajamas pants. Even if I'm going out again later, I have to change my pants because I simply can't lounge in jeans.

5. I squeeze the tooth paste tube from the middle. It annoys the ever-loving crap out of my husband who is a "roll from the bottom" kind of guy, but I just can't be bothered to do it.

6. I always find myself with way too many limes. Every time I go to the store I end up buying limes, and then I have too many. Needless to say there is a LOT of limeade around here.

7. I should never be allowed to rent from Red Box ever again. I never return the movies soon enough. We now own 3 beautiful redbox DVD's due to my inability to return them.

Now who to give it to...hmm...how about EVERYONE! Yes ok, so part of that is laziness, but I also just simply don't know who to give the awards to! So if you want one, take it! My treat!

Now that that is done, I would just like to say that I promise I will no longer be such a goose about this blog. I WILL come back more often. I PROMISE lol. I don't want to lose my followers from lack of...blogginess.

What Does Being a Military Spouse Mean to Me?

First of all, I am SOOO sorry to all my bloggy friends for ignoring the virtual world last week. I DID check every single one of your comments as the days went on and I noticed I have a few new followers (hurray!). So just know that yes, I am aware of you and most of you I followed back, there are still 2 or 3 that I haven't had the chance to, but I will once I'm done with this post!
Now, I've had such a whirlwind of a week that I figure it's time to sit and relax with a CONTEST! Christina over at Married to a Sailor: Journey of a Navy Wife is hosting a contest. The question? Write about what being a military spouse means to you.

The question is very hard to answer. If you had told me in High School that I would be a military spouse I probably would have laughed in your face. You see, I was vehemently opposed to the military. I was a member of Code Pink, a rebellious teenager just entering the world of politics. I was uninformed about many things, particularly the military. It wasn't that I so much hated them, just that I was so far removed from military things and everything I knew was just what I got from the news or other sources.

I remember walking the halls at lunchtime frowning at the recruiters, thinking in the back of my head that they were signing people up to die. I had cousins in the military. One in the Navy, one in the Marines, and one in the Army. They represented the military well because shortly after each of them left for basic I was left feeling abandoned. The military took my cousins away, maybe one day it would kill them.

When I met my husband I was 17. I had never imagined myself in a serious relationship. He used to tell me that had he not met me he probably would have just joined the Marines. I thought to myself that I was saving him from being signed up to die. I told him that under no circumstances was he to enlist because I would leave him. And he said not to worry, he would never join the military.

Fast forward 2 years and we were living by ourselves in Northern Utah where I was involved in school. I was unemployed, he lost his job, had no high school diploma either. I remember the moment well. He was sitting at the desk in our guest bedroom playing a video game. I popped around the corner and uttered the unspeakable. "Maybe you should join the Marines." He responded back with the unthinkable. "I already decided to."

We went to the recruiter that next week and he was signed up for adult education classes to finish his diploma. We got married the next month, he completed his diploma in 4 months and was DEP'ed into the Marines. He left 1 week later.

What being a milspouse means to me is hard to answer. Sometimes is means that I lie on the floor and rip my hair out trying not to kill myself over dead vibrator batteries. Other times it means I scoff at the on-base "dress code" that doesn't allow hats in the MCX. But then there are the days, when I tag along with DH to work and watch him do morning colors, and I see the flag being raised, the National Anthem playing in the background and I think that I'm glad I'm a different person than I was 4 years ago. I'm glad I married a man who became a Marine. I'm glad I have been able to travel around the country in the past year and meet people who I will probably know and love for the rest of my life.

Sexually Deprived for Your Freedom...

has never rang more and more true than it did this past week.

And to the next person who asks me "how can you go that long without sex"...I just do. OK! ARE YOU HAPPY WITH THAT ANSWER? BECAUSE I'M NOT!

How to Have a Clean House

I have discovered the secret to having a clean house.

In my busy busy week, I have had ZERO time to clean ANYTHING. The kitchen especially was borderline HAZMAT. I thought for sure they were going to have to call my husband's unit back from the Middle East and have them all get out their MOPP gear and decon. this place (it's his MOS after all).

With company arriving in less than an hour and my kitchen looking like something out of "Fear Factor" I came up with the PERFECT plan. I hid the dishes.

Some went in the oven:
 

Some went in the dishwasher (crammed into all the nooks and corners and lying on top of things):

And the few that remained went in the microwave:

Granted, there were still a lot of dishes that didn't fit anywhere and were left in the sink, but I rinsed them and then covertly rotated the toaster to conceal the sink from certain key angles around the house.

Then I lint-rolled my carpet as a substitute for vacuuming (only the spots dark enough to show the white cat hair).

TADA! Clean house (at least at first glance...just don't look TOO close)

I am so behind on things

I have been working all week with the US Census Bureau and what originally started as a "make your own hours" job now has mandatory 8 am meetings EVERY day...even weekends.

I've been sick all week with low blood sugar problems, in and out of the hospital.

Oh and my cats figured out how to open drawers and decided to sleep on my clean laundry.

I'm waaay behind on care packages, my kitchen is disgusting and the list just goes on and on.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The shittiest advice ever

*I would like to apologize in advance for the vast quantities of foul language that I forsee in this post. I'm not going to bother censoring out my swear words like I do most of the time. So if you are easily offended by cussing, this is probably not the post for you*

OK! Today I stumbled upon a site for military wives about how to survive deployment. After reading for a few minutes I was just flabbergasted by how completely unrealisitc and BS the entire thing was. It was, quite possibly, the worst advice I have ever heard (with the exception of #1).

1. Allow yourself to feel bad. DONE!

2. Talk to your soldier.
What? I wasn't aware that communication was like an on demand movie. That I could just simply "talk" to my husband, whenever I wanted to. Geez. I wonder what I'm missing here, these past 2 weeks that I have been living without hearing so much as a peep from the other side of the globe...

3. Put a support our troops sticker on your car or wear a pin.
Yes, of course. Because supporting the yellow car magnet industry is going to make ME feel better about my life. Who knew a sticker held that much power.

4. Be positive at all times. Fuck that.

5. Keep busy.
 Fuck that too...I've been "busy" this whole week and all it's done is land me in the ER with even more of a stress ulcer than I already had.

6. Live your life.
 OMG, NO WAY! Here I thought I was supposed to live someone else's life!

7. Don't worry.
*snork!* Easier said than done. I could walk around all day telling people to simply "not worry", but you know that inside I'm freaking out.

8. Don't get frustrated.
FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK!

If you can't tell, this week is going horribly. I've already been in the ER once...contemplating going back. Last night I was drifting off to sleep when I suddenly started shaking. My heart was racing, my head was throbbing, my stomach was growling/intense hunger pains. Basically, I was having a low blood sugar episode. I've had them before, it's not really a big deal. So I went and ate some food. Well, I actually ate quite a bit of food, some complex carbs, soluble fiber, and an orange.

The pain seemed to subside so I crawled back into bed. 10 minutes later it came back. Now that is unheard of. Usually when someone eats something like 500 calories, they don't feel like they're going to die of starvation 10 minutes later.

So I went to the ER, where it was determined that I had low blood sugar and I was equiped with IV glucose and some other random fluids and sent home. I still had to work today, because the training is mandatory or else I forfeit the job.

All day today I have been battling the same hunger pains and problems I had last night. I ate a ton of food this morning and afternoon and no matter what I do I feel like I'm about to pass out from starvation. I have to work yet again tomorrow. So it's now 11:30 pm and I am SO FREAKING HUNGRY! I just ate another 4 hot pockets and feel like I'm going to throw up if I eat any more food, but my stomach is literally doing somersaults growling on itself and my head is pounding. I can't sleep I'm so hungry, but I can't eat.

I'm almost wondering if it's some sort of stress ulcer?

And then to top it off, I feel completely and utterly lonely right now/abandoned. I haven't heard from DH in 2 weeks, so it's not like I can just unload my problems on him, and tell him how I can't even function on a day to day basis anymore. I can't even really explain it...it's like my longing to be cuddled and hugged and stuff is like killing me. The emotional pain is SOOO intense that it's becoming actual physical pain

The Hardest Part....

Seeing all the couples.

I went to the zoo today with a guy friend. He had errands in San Diego, which was where my car was in the shop. So he took me down there on his way and we decided to swing over to the San Diego Zoo for the last 2 hours they were open. He's a Marine so he got in free and I got in for a spouse discount, so it just seemed like a nice little side trip to avoid going back to reality (me being alone, him having to pack his gear).

We spent a few hours walking around looking at the animals, making fun of British tourists.

But as fun as it was, it was equally as painful, seeing all the couples who had gone to the zoo that day and were hanging on each other, holding hands, laughing and giggling and cuddling on the tram. They were looking at us like "why are you guys not being cute", obviously unaware of the fact that he's not my spouse/partner and thus that kind of behavior is not appropriate.

And it was at those moments that I wanted so badly to run up from behind and grab him by the waist and burry my head in his chest and look up and find out that is WAS my husband and I WAS at the zoo with DH, and is WAS ok to be affectionate. But obviously, that was not the case, and I was punished to an afternoon of bittersweet fun.

And then the nail in the coffin of my loneliness came at the end of the day, when we climbed into our seperate cars and he waved and drove away. I could no longer live in my little fantasy of pretending like it was actually my husband. It felt like so long as he was there, I could trick myself into believing he was DH and I wasn't actually lonely. But then I was left in the zoo parking lot with a newly painted truck and a hole in my heart, watching someone who was NOT my husband drive away. I wanted to run after the car and scream at him to come back because he forgot me....his wife. And have him stop the car and turn around and it would be DH's smiling face and a "just kidding" expression. But I know it's not him.

I felt abandoned. Abandoned by my husband, abandoned by my guy friend, abandoned by everyone. And I climbed into my truck and drove away, catching a glimpse of another happy couple walking arm-in-arm towards their car. They were going home together. I was not.