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Yesterday, I had my lunch with Joe.  I just got home.  Chill!  I DID NOT HAVE SEX WITH THAT MAN.  Heck, I didn’t even give Clinton a run for his money. 

 

There were hugs and tears, and a lot of pain.  I’m not even sure where to start because my mind is just filled with so much stuff.  There was a lot of clearing the air (5 hours worth), and we’re trying this new thing called honesty.  Well sort of…he’s trying honesty and I was trying less honesty, but I’ll get to that soon enough.  Obviously, we are both on the rebound, and he’s being very careful.  He’s been deeply hurt by the woman with the inter-racial child, Erica, and he was finally caught in his own honey trap (the same one he’s been laying for everyone else).  He admitted that he lied when he told me he had moved out 3 yrs. ago (when M. “stole” me out from under him…his words…yeah…I didn’t go for that much…last time I checked I’m not property), and that he was really moving back and forth between his wife and another woman, Patricia (LONG story there…I may have to start a Joe page…then I can include Herpes Jen, Horse Jen, and Nurse/Meth-head Jen provided I can even remember enough to keep them all straight); I am soooooo glad I didn’t fall for it then.  True to my word, I looked at his actions and his expressions more than listened to the words.  I watched when he talked about Erica, and there was a “hang dog” look of remorse.  Later, when I spoke about our troubles including when I put an end to “us”, I watched his face repeatedly become a mask of pain.  It was very weird.  He’s very fearful and distant, and that is something I have NEVER experienced from him.  I was shocked and admittedly a bit hurt by it, but I just went with the flow.  And there’s where the fun REALLY started!

 

After an hour at lunch, we were getting the evil eye from the wait staff, and Joe pretty much…hmmm…what’s the word…not begged…or insisted…oh well you get the idea.  He was intent on convincing me to come visit his home.  I agreed because I honestly didn’t want to stop talking, and Joe and I in enclosed spaces are actually way more dangerous than when we can look each other in the eye (everybody can keep their hands to themselves when you’re across from one another).  So we spent 5 hours there talking it all out, and crying and we both were pretty clear that we’re going to be very tentative and feel this out as we go with no eye to the future whatsoever.  There are no promises in place.  We know where each other is, and we’re going to wait and see. 

 

When Joe and I were together, he was married (in case you haven’t read earlier posts…I did not know this until I was deeply in love with him…I’m a horrible person, but I finally broke it off despite the pain to both of us), and I flat out REFUSED to meet his son, Chris.  I was aware (near the end) that Chris had met other adulterers with whom Joe was involved (I don’t kid myself and I will not make infidelity sound pretty…it wasn’t with Joe…it wasn’t when M. cheated on me).  I was absolutely APPALLED, and despite Joe’s persistence I would not go there. 

 

When we got in his truck to go to his place, Joe told me that Chris was there with him (apparently he had expected Chris to be at his mother’s…yeah…I let that go too).  I don’t know if he had planned to try something, but it definitely wasn’t the vibe he was putting off.  Things soon became pretty clear.  Joe stepped out for a minute and the next thing I knew Chris was there and so were Bridgette and John with their two kids (John is Joe’s partner on the police force and his best friend in the world).  After a very few minutes of introductions, I discovered that a cook-out had been planned and I really “must” stay for that.  Gotta say this for the guy…it may take him SIX years to decide he wants you around, but when he does he gets to it.  That was a pretty BIG action, and I noticed it but I’m not laying a lot of stock in it either (others were there before me, so to speak…and I don’t think I’m special in any way because of it).  But, I decided to stay.

 

Things got kinda weird after that though.  Joe was extremely quiet most of the time which is so out of character for him, and although he made a lot of fuss about including me and even calling other people to come and join us, he was definitely in his own world (for once I honestly do not have a clue if he’s confused or disappointed or what…it is utterly out of the realms of my knowledge and I could always read him even if it was something I didn’t want to admit to or know).  However, I managed to bond with Chris and (perhaps unfortunately) Bridgette.  Before the night was out the three of us were having an absolute BALL!  I love quick witted people, and I come from country folk, and Bridgette is REDNECK…and HOW!  I’m talking hunting, fishing, retarded relatives that play the guitar but scream all night thereby interrupting wedding nights…REDNECK.  LOL 

 

Highlights of the night:

 

·        Bridgette getting shot twice after Joe and John had slipped off leaving me with her and Chris (Chris had a new BB gun).

·        Bridgette using the time while Joe and John were gone to find out if I had ever smoked weed or anything else (Erica apparently was a Pill Popper and alcoholic…I hurl at the first sip of alcohol, and I felt no need to mention my love of Lortab).

·        A visit from Officer Chuck who in the same breath talked about the devil, voting for McCain, Masons, and throwing kittens into fans.

·        Bridgette, who is apparently a big ol’ firebug, setting old, arsenic-filled, porch steps aflame…then inhaling.  Did I mention they live in a trailer park with about 10 feet between the trailers where we were sitting and where she began her bonfire?

·        BACHELOR PADS…OMG…DISGUSTING!  Obviously, they had straightened up, but O…M…G!  Camping chairs as fine furnishings and shower grime (that I thought might come to life at any moment) scare the crap outta me!

·        Favorite quote of the night, you ask? “Machete girl was the best of the bunch.” (said in reference to neighbors who a few nights previously had beaten the windows out of another persons car and had to be hauled in by Joe and John)

·        Chris’ kitten, Tina, being chased by Bridgette who was threatening to wrap her in a plastic bag and see if it would melt.

·        The Indian friend of theirs who told us all about his girlfriend catching him in the parking lot with another woman when he was supposed to be in Houston.  Can you say “playa” in Sanskrit? 

·        A 3 hour conversation between Chris and I alone about politics, religion, the local educational system, and yes, even about my relationship with Joe (not TMI though…very general).

·        And another “recap” talk with Joe (who was still very distant) before I left (he was actually worried that Bridgette and Chris might have been mean to me while he was gone…so not the case…it was FUN and absolutely, unequivocally insane).

 

 

Ohhh…I think you get the picture, but I so wish I’d had taken my camera…oh how I wish I had taken my camera.  LOL  The result is that I got a grand total of 2 hours of sleep and I’m still processing everything, but I MUST SLEEP NOW. 

 

I’ll be on later to talk to ya’ll!  🙂

 

P.S.- Oh, yeah, I forgot to explain my dishonesty… Because M. and I were not telling anyone about our separation, I did not see the need to tell anyone about seeing Joe.  But, as I’ve often said, there are no secrets on the hill.  Tina called me in the wee hours of the morning to tell me that Dave had come in last night and told Mom that I went to see Joe (I haven’t been able to find out how Dave knew).  My mother thinks I’m a whore and cheating on my husband.  I cannot deal with that right now though.  The biological need for sleep has taken over. 

 

P.P.S.- Sorry for the incredibly long post.  It’s so hard to decide what to cut when people are trying to melt cats while imitating Cartman from South Park.

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I promised these snaps last week.  I thought that since Bossy is off on her fabu camping trip that I’d show ya’ll what passes for high livin’ round these parts.

 

 

 

 

 

It's got two of those pop-outs or as we like to call them wings.

It's got two of those pop-outs or as we like to call them wings.

 

 

Is that not FINE?  The only thing that would have made those pics better would have been to put Dave & Will in their hunting caps and pose them in front although the 1960’s ironing board out front is nice (apparently it came semi-furnished).  There’s also original orange shag carpeting, but I refuse to get close enough to zoom in for a pic.  It gives me the heebie-jeebies!  The tin-foil in the window is a nice touch. 

 

Will picked this up on one of his junk runs (i.e.- free from somebody who wanted it off their property).  Yeah, I know, he’ll pick up anything (and I’m not even talking about the variety of…err…ladies he’s run around with).  In all fairness, even I consider it a find.  You could put a grand into it and resell it for a fair bundle.  However, since Will is in charge of the renovations.  Yeah… I’m not going to hold my breath.  Instead, I’m just going to think how pretty it’s going to be with the Christmas lights on it…especially next August. 

 

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naudia-5e.jpg

I adore my friend Rachel’s little girl.  She is a cutie pie and a half.  However, I got an email today where Rach has entered a scholarship contest for cutest baby pic (Daddy’s Little Girl).  Apparently, all it takes to win this thing is to have enough votes.  I get it…sort of… 

Rachel seems to have an obsession with these online picture contests.  Yearbook.com is her version of porn.  She pits her daughter, her son, her husband, herself, and even her dog against anyone and everyone.  This includes a recent instance when she pitted her dog, Radagast, against a young couple’s wedding photo (and no…she didn’t know them).  He won.  She felt bad about it; I know because she said so every time she told anyone who would listen about her dog winning.   

Am I the only one who hates these things??? 

Let’s get this straight right now.  You’re kids are adorable and cute!  Yep, every darned one of them (even my cousin who looked for all the world like a red-haired baby monkey…they should’ve shaved him for the pictures).   

However…what used to be the terror of the playground is now the terror of the internet.  Mommy-one-upsmanship (MOU) has risen to epidemic proportions.  Bragging is one thing I get.  (hey, you’ve seen the pics of Pascal…I’m not about to give up pasting his little face on every surface real or digital anywhere someone will let me…the only thing that stops me in the real world are cops…when the government falls, my first step is to paint a giant Pascal on the big W’s parking lot…ya know, so Kang & Kodos will know where to pick us up)  But you have to have personal limits.  I adore my Pas, but consciously I know that he doesn’t photograph especially well (ok, I don’t photograph him especially well) and he’s not going to be voted cutest puppy of the millennium.  I wonder if the MOU’s know that underneath it all?  My baby brother Will was an adorable child and was always commented upon in public (imagine big pale blue eyes, long lashes, and long corkscrew golden blond curls…Mom was way ahead of Kate Hudson), but my mother never once tried to point it out to other people or put him in contests (even though it was suggested many times).  We took MUCH more pride in his manners and abilities (how many 3yr olds do you know that can take a chainsaw apart, fix it, and put it back together?  Yes, he did just that…oh how I wish we’d had a video camera back then).  Sure that’s another form of MOU, and no, I don’t approve of people shoving that one too much either.  But, at least, that one has to do with ability and not just luck-of-the-draw looks.   

I’m not a MOU, not really.  I know the difference between cute and “Quick! Call Hollywood!”  Anytime a third party says to me, “Isn’t so-and-so’s child just the most beautiful thing in the world?”  I find it hard not to go, “Uhhh…if you say so.”  Unfortunately, I’m not calling Hollywood for them.  I can say, “They’re cute.”  But, I think we all know what that means.  They’re cute for now; they shouldn’t get too used to it.  How torturous for some kids to be cute one day and get to the age when “they aren’t really all that adorable anymore” practically overnight.  They don’t call them the awkward years for nothin’.  How much of that suffering would be eliminated if people didn’t do the contests and bragging quite so much?  (We don’t have to give it up completely…just taper off…hence no pic of Pas THIS TIME)

And I’m pretty sure the scholarship goes to the kid…

Lesson for today: Obsession bad.

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