I can quit anytime...

Lover Boy and I are looking to save some money, so we've been discussing what we spend the most money on. Lover Boy thinks our problem is how many trips I like to take.

I can't help it. I love to travel. I love being in a new place, doing new things. Even old things. The grass is always greener and all that.

This January we went home for a week to spend time with family and college friends. This, to me, is necessary. We are also going away for a few days next month for my birthday. This isn't necessary, but I love taking a trip for my birthday. When I'm doing something during my birthday, I can forget that I'm getting older. This has worked for the last 3 years.

In May I'm doing a girl's weekend with my mom, as we are going to my cousin's wedding. This is semi-necessary. I really don't like my cousin, but watching her disaster of a wedding will give us fodder to mock her for years. Or until the divorce.

Lover Boy just got offered a trip through his work to go the opposite coast to visit a place I've always wanted to go. It's only going to be $650.00. If we planned the trip on our own, we'd be getting into the thousands for the cost. We have to go.

It's only February and I've used up all my vacation time already. I have two floating holidays, and three places to be.

I might have a problem.

But, I counted to Lover Boy, we go out to eat far to much. And that, surely, is more costly in the long run then a few trips over the year.

He agreed. Then he asked our waiter for the take-out menu.

Pity Party, Indulge Me

Sometimes, I feel like I'm always the strong one. If someone needs a problem solved, I solve it. If someone needs an ear, I have two.

But when I feel awful about something, when I need to spew my guts out...I find myself alone. Most of the time Lover Boy is at work, and I don't feel like anyone sets aside time to listen or help me.

Not that I don't love all my friends, I do. They are good friends. But sometimes I wish I had a friend who would be there if I needed them, all the time. I feel like I haven't had one of those in awhile.

And I'm just low right now too...I'm sure I have those people, but right now it feels like I'm all alone.

I've decided to give back to the community!

I'm doing it the only way I know how; through blogging. And I'm totally not talking about "Ask Two Drink Girl Anything." Oh no....although you can still ask me anything you want. I'm talking to you, Rod.

Anyway, I've submitted an entry of this blog to this charity. Read the entry over again, and see if I made the right choice of what to send in.

And please, this is for posterity, so be honest. :-)

Happy Singles Awareness Day!

I stayed up last night to wait for Lover Boy to come home, so I could wish him a Happy Valentines Day. He wanted to watch yet another episode of good eats, and I fell asleep on him. He woke me around 1:30AM and we went to bed, with a set plan of what to do in the morning.

8:30 AM, there is a knock at the door. The repairman for the apartment complex thought right then would be the perfect time to fix the lock on our porch door. The same lock that hasn't worked since we moved in, over 3 years ago. Since he was there I told him he needed to fix our leaky sink too, and he had to come in and out a million times, and I had to wrangle the cats every time he walked in the door.

Around 9:30 AM he finishes his work and says goodbye. I climb back into bed with Lover Boy, tired beyond tired, and am *thisclose* to finding sleep, when there is yet another knock on the door.

I answer the door at 9:55 AM, only to find the repairman has forgotten his radio. I lock the door behind him, then realize in order to make it to work on time, I have to get ready now. As in, no sex, no cute lunch with Lover Boy, and no going to the post office to pick up my package from my mom.

Happy Freakin' Valentines Day. I swear I feel more single when I'm married.

Mortality Rates are High

There has only been one time in my life where I've cried so hard that I sobbed uncontrollably. It was in high school, when my Grandma had a heart attack.

At first I kept my cool. She had a quadruple-bypass surgery, and my aunt said she was doing well. I wasn't worried. My Mom went to stay with her for the week, and I was going to take care of her for the weekend.

Mom warned me that Grandma was going to be different. My normally upbeat, nice, polite, well-mannered, lovable Grandma had been changed by the experience. I wasn't worried, my Grandma was strong.

Grandma sighed. A lot. And the long scar shocked me more than I realized. Suddenly it hit me that Grandma was mortal. I could tell that she was depressed; she didn't ever want anyone to baby her or see her weak. It bugged her that anyone had to take care of her. She and I are alike that way.

Fast forward to my wedding, right after I finished college. Right up until the last minute, we didn't know if Grandma was going to make it there. I tried to not care if she came or not, but really I desperately wanted her to be there. She decided to get on the plane, and came she did. I was so happy that she was there. And she was back to my old Grandma again. She laughed, she joked, she walked around as if she never had any pain in her life. She sat on a stranger's lap and joked at the hotel, she was the best.

Last year I decided to go to my favorite city for my birthday, with friends. Every morning before we headed into the city, we visited with my Grandma for an hour or so. She was sad again, and we hadn't seen each other in a long time. But she was still gregarious to my friends, and forever asking if I was hungry and trying to give me things. I didn't get away without two coats of hers.

She told me that my aunt was trying to get her to move into an assisted living facility, but she didn't want to leave her home. I told her I'd never give up the house; I felt like I'd grown up there, and she seemed to be doing fine. I hugged and kissed her goodbye, and went back home and lived my life.

A few months later my aunt wore her down and got her to move into an apartment. After just a few weeks there, she started showing up in other people's rooms, losing her hearing aids, and eventually beating up on my aunt's boyfriend. I loved her for that last one.

She has dementia, and is living in a home now. A few weeks ago we went to see her, and it was the most heartbreaking thing I've ever had to do. She was unresponsive and obviously not my Grandma anymore. She had lost so much weight that I probably wouldn't have picked her out of a crowd.

A year ago she begged my Mom to kill her, she was so unhappy with living. She never wanted to lose her mind before she could just end it all. She would've hated that so many people saw her in a home like this. My mom and sister tried to engage her in conversation, telling her that her hair looked nice, and asking her what she ate for breakfast. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to take a walk. She just wanted to stare straight ahead.

A part of me understands. When I went through depression, that's all I wanted to do. Stare straight ahead and not interact, because I felt like my depression showed I wasn't strong, that I couldn't take care of myself.

She never wanted me to see her like that. She never wanted anyone to see her like that. It broke my heart that my strong, amazing Grandmother wasn't getting what she wanted.

It struck me then that I had the determination of my father in my DNA, along with her desire to not let anyone see her weak. I wasn't going to let it end the way my Grandmother didn't want it to.

When my time comes, I'm going be in control of when I leave this existence. And I won't ask help from anyone.

Does Attempted Suicide Count? (I kid!)

"What's the most dangerous thing you've ever done?" ~Jamie

Depends on what you mean by dangerous. If you mean physically, I'm not very adventurous. I suppose that it could be when I rock-climbed...but that actually felt pretty safe. I think that's because it was indoors. Ooh, I went skydiving; also indoors. I'm just not an outdoor girl.

The only thing I've done that I've felt dangerous doing was when I walked out of a job. It was a temp job, and I told the temp agency how bad it was there, and if my immediate supervisor there was escorted off the job that day that I'd be right behind her. I did it, my heart pounding in my chest the whole time. I even took the stairs because I was afraid I'd run into the security guards coming back up. I knew it was the wrong thing to do, but this company had been doing the wrong thing to it's employees since the day I got there. Someone needed to show them. Of course, the Temp Agency 'fired' me, even though I let them know what was going down before hand. I just met my immediate supervisor across the street for margaritas. We were joined by another employee soon after.

I know, I don't take chances that much. I always seem to play by the rules, even though I always say what you should do is break all of them and see what happens.

Dear Rod: Why do questions always come in threes?

1. How much of my hard earned money would it take to get you to run naked through a crowded mall?

Funny, I had a dream about that the other night...Although I wasn't running, I was more cowering and needing badly to pee. More on that later.

Okay, not really. There is no amount of money that could get me to re-live my nightmares.

2. How can I increase my bad-assedness quotient?

There are a few easy steps, such as wearing more black and buying a motorcycle. But in order to really be a bad ass, you have to believe in you. This always works with women experiencing PMS. :-)

3. What makes the women swoon?

When a man shows that he thought about something. Women want desperately to feel like their man pays attention like they pay attention; with immense detail. Women remember what kind of dog food the dog digs the most, because she actually feeds the dog and measures the amount of time in which it is eating.

So just pay attention, and when you get her a "lemon lip gloss" and mention that you had remembered she said she needed some, and you saw it and thought of her, she'll swoon.

At least on the inside. :-)