on his 19th birthday?

He's leaving his city.  He's leaving his province.  He's leaving his COUNTRY!!!! 

I'll be losing my mind!!

He leaves Friday (12th) afternoon.

He'll be traveling out of the country Friday afternoon to Connecticut (USA) to take his Certified Landscape Engineering course test.  The test he's doing is an eleven hour long test, it starts at 6am, and goes straight through to 6pm (with a one hour lunch break).  It involves a written portion, and then a variety of hands on labour and landscape engineering tasks and tests.  So he'll need his wits about him, he'll need to sleep well, and to apply what he's learned to the tasks which he is being marked on.  This is a very important test for him.  If he passes, it means a significant raise for him, and the ability to put a C.L.E. after his name, for business purposes (of course in the landscaping industry only 

Apparently it's really hard to pass this test on the first try.  Two of the 3 other men going down with him, are taking it for the second time.  A fair number of folks fail the 2nd attempt too.  No pressure there, hey?  He wants, really badly, to pass the first time off the mark!

At this point, it appears he will be doing the driving - though that can change.  So, as we know it, he's driving himself and the other 3 men attending this test on the weekend from here to Connecticut, and then back home again on Sunday.

He'll be away from home for his birthday - it is going to be hard on him, and all of us.  It's the first time any of my children will not be able to celebrate their special day with the family. 

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Monday night I couldn't sleep.  Finally succumbed to dream land at 8:10am, only to be woken back up 40 minutes later by the phone.  I did manage to get a one and a half hour nap Tuesday afternoon, so that helped some what.

Again last night .... no sleep.  I'm sitting here typing this at 8:42am, minutely tired, but that's it.  My children are getting up for the day, breakfast needs to be made, school started .... and I'm just shaking my head.  How am I going to get through, yet another, sleepless night - day. 

What is up with my poor body and sleep ... what is up with it???!

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that you seriously ?  I mean, went off to 'chat' with the porcelain throne?

I've done this twice in recent months, with last night being the second time.


what happens is, my funny bone gets tickled and I start laughing.  Then if I get in a full rolling hold your belly and laugh uncontrollably kind of laugh, I start snorting.  Once i start snorting, I then have memories of my mother doing the same thing .. and I start laughing harder, and snorting more.  It's a vicious circle really.  Now I'm snorting because I'm laughing, and I'm laughing because I'm snorting.  It escalates until I'm laughing so hard I can't catch my breath and that's when the thing strikes.

Okay .. that explains, at least WHY I end up doing that.

Now the what set me off thing.

I sat the children down last night to have a quick family meeting about the upcoming  schedule changes for our household, because school was starting up again for us.

So I said to them what their new - old - bedtimes would be again.  Leaving off the randomness of the summer sleeping and waking schedule and getting back into the concrete Fall/Winter/Spring sleeping schedule.

I said , "Denny, Michael and Belle, your wake up time will be 7:30am" They all groaned but nodded in agreement.

I know Ike will be home a bit more now, as work is really slow right now, and so he's not needed everyday at this time.  It will pick up again in about 3 weeks time, or so. So, turned to Ike and said, "When you are home from work you will have to be up by 7:30 too.

CDee says to Ike, while having a huge grin on his face, "Hey look man, you get to sleep in two minutes more than everyone else."

We all lost it.  Cause he was right, it sounded like I was saying you have to get up at 7:32!

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Hello. 

It's been awhile since we've spoken, old friend.  Yesterday I copied some previously printed/posted items, I don't wish to lose, from places I frequent online.  So if you see some familiar stuff, for those that also frequent those places .... just chuckle and move on .

Lisa

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got this in my monthly HSLDA report.  This sends chills down my spine and makes my stomach hurt.  I'm going to call HSLDA early next week and find out how we are to combat this mandatory edict from the government.  I want to move so bad my teeth actually ache with the need to go.  This sure isn't helping any.



3. Quebec Mandates Relativistic Education For All Students

 

Quebec is in the process of making all forms of religious education illegal. Through the protection of HSLDA, homeschoolers have refused to follow these rules and have been successfully defended in their choices.

QUEBEC CITY, October 4, 2007 (LifeSiteNews.com) - As of the beginning of the 2008 school year, all students in the province of Quebec whether in public school, private school or even homeschooled will be mandated to take a program on "Ethics and Religious Culture" which runs from grade one till the end of high school.  The program is completely relativistic and includes positive presentation of homosexual families and requires children to question their own religious upbringing.

 
This website has the full article ....
http://www.lifesite.net/ldn/2007/oct/07100409.html

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this is an advertisement I heard on the radio a bit a go.

It goes something like this -

woman: "There ya go, all the copying is done."
man: "Oh dear, looks like we might have a problem here."
woman: "oh?"
man: "see here?  That should be a "m" not a "t"."
woman: "Oh my, and it's on all the copies too - all 500 of them."
man: "Ah."
woman: "um .. yeah."

man: "See there?"  
woman: "yes. . . idiom "

man: "The Idiot Company"
woman (roaring with laughter) "Cutting Edge stupid"

fade out to uproarious laughter from both the man and woman.

tagline: _________________(name of company) where copies or so cheap, you can laugh at your mistakes.




This commercial was on the radio about a month ago.  It's stuck in all our heads, and makes us snicker all the time.  We repeat the last two lines to each other constantly.

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CDee and I had a serious chat this evening, in the car.


I asked how his 'walk' was going - meaning his purity walk.  He said he was feeling really blessed in that way, as God really does protect him from thoughts and the world's freedoms and agendas entering his mind and heart.  Considering my two oldest work, day in and day out, surrounded by so much of the world, in downtown Sin City Montreal, this was good to hear.

I asked if he was having any thoughts towards any of the young ladies of our/his acquaintance ... we don't know a lot, but I thought I should try and have my finger on the pulse, as it were.  Dad isn't stepping up and supporting him this way, quite the contrary actually.  So I think he needs to know someone has his back.  We did a bit about "What if one of those young ladies on your board Mum, did end up being my wife - and me their husband.  Can you imagine the conversation?  Hey, Corbin, lovely wife you have there.  Where'd y'all meet?  Oh, our mothers set us up online.  I met her for the first time at our wedding!"

Seriously though, his answer to the interest question was a very quiet, "No."

He said his heart is growing daily for wanting children though.  It is a strong pull and one that confuses him, as he doesn't think he's ready to properly look after a wife and children - monetarily.  He said his heart is ready, but his "wallet and bank balance aren't up to the honour yet."

He talked about how hard it is to even begin to look.  He said his standards are high - very high by today's world standard.

He explained what that meant for him.  He told me about wanting a wife willing to either not work outside the home at all, or to willingly with joy, leave her employment when children were entering their family.  He said it's so hard in today's world where he's almost considered a freak and anti-equality, chauvinistic, and well, just all the mumbo jumbo that the world throws at you, when it comes to women staying home, teaching and raising YOUR own children.  He feels very small for the task of finding a mate.  Doesn't even know where or how or when ... or anything to even begin looking.  I told him to just give it all to God.  I told him God already knows his wife.  He already knows when they'll meet, how and where.  I told him to just keep his heart and mind open to who God does bring him.  All the packages are not equal, and one that might look - by others' standards - to not be good, may be exactly who God has planned for him.

He said he knows, too, by the world's standards his desire to give God full glory over their womb (as it were), is met with disapproval by many.  Especially by many women.  Most he said, seem to not mind the idea of 1 or two children ... 3 tops, but they are NOT going to stop working JUST to raise children.  This mentality includes even his own Dad, and his Dad's GF, and both their families.  "What?  You want a woman to simply be an incubator for all the CDee's you want to turn out, hey?  No one is going to go for that, boy.  Makes you look chauvinistic and self-serving to even ask it of anyone!" Gee, with guidance like that, no wonder he feels a bit disheartened about the whole thing.

He does know he wants to have enough money put aside to put down on a home.  He does want a wife willing to put her Lord, her husband and her children before everything else.  He does want to home school his children.

He wants to do all he can to ensure the best for his family, and he believes that to be wife and children in the home - not out of it.  Husband working to provide for his family, and laughing and growing with them.  He wants to be a hands on Dad too.  He likes, he said, my approach to parenting, and hopes he can do that with his.  He wants a really good relationship with them. 

He said it's not even all the external stuff about a wife he's talking about.  It's not about stuff like physical beauty, chubby, slim, long hair, short hair, in between hair, clothing, etc.  He said it's the stay at home, raising our own children in our own home, schooling them at home, being like minded in faith, goals ... the 'big' stuff.  It's her heart's character. 

He has said he wants a wife who loves herself enough to be confident in choosing modest clothing.  What this means to him will be different for some here.  He likes the way his sister and his mother dress - feminine, pretty, but not just dresses and skirts ... but choosing tasteful, attractive classic to contemporary modest clothing.

Our talk, though upbeat, did give me a glimpse of his concerns about making the right choice.  Listening, correctly, to God's direction.  He tried to be light hearted about it, but he knows the 'good' women, who would meet his higher standard, may have Dads (and Mums) who count him as the lesser choice - because his parents are divorced.  He kind of feels at even more of a disadvantage then a normal 'good' boy from a 'good' family would.

I'm honoured my nearly 19 year old is willing to talk, very openly, about this stuff with me.  It touches my heart to no end.  I know I've been remiss in my prayer life, with regard to God's guiding hand in the wife department for my boys, of late. I need to make it a priority again.

Anyway, this isn't meant as a solicitation post .  It just a glimpse in my young man's heart.  Some of those glimpses made me yearn for him - the family his heart is growing towards, that he doesn't even know yet.  Some of those glimpses made me want to just weep for him.  Most of them made me smile, and nod, and just breathe in this quiet moment of happiness and sharing between us.

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Me:
I'm tired.  I'm not feeling great, but can't seem to put my finger on what exactly is wrong.  School is going - but slowly so, and not as consistent as I'd hoped it would be .  House is looking better though.  I've been working, fairly steadily, on tossing and biffing anything not nailed down and totally useful.  The place is starting to echo in some rooms .  Lots to do though, so we continue on.  I got a bit behind on my laundry, about 3 weeks ago, and I'm still playing catch up with it.  It's coming along though.  It's much faster to get it back in order with my new set of w/d, then it was with the limping ones I had before.  I figure another 6 - 7 loads and we'll have the issue licked.

My heart is very tired.  Nothing horrible going on.  Finances are extremely difficult right now, and that is giving me some sleepless, dream-filled, stressful nights.  XH is fine.  Hasn't been in my face about anything lately .  He came out yesterday, out of the blue, with the 2 boys he had with him this weekend, and finished the deck work he'd started back in July.  Deck looks nice.  It touched my heart so much to see him rallying the children around him, teaching them, guiding them, encouraging them.  They all just lapped it up.  Made me just ache for the shoulda, coulda, mighta beens.    The only one not out there with them was CDee, and he seems to be really pulling away from his father these last few months .  It's sad really.  They could have been great for one another - they are not.  They don't fight, or anything like that.  They just seem to exist with one another, not really connecting through their hearts - more just their heads.  I know it pains XH, but well, it's his own cross to bear - so I try to stay out of it.  Makes me sad for them both though.

I'm so very lonely these days.  I try not to think of it, but I am and I do.  I am coming to the realisation, I just might spend the rest of my days as a single, once married lady.  It is disquieting.

My children are all growing up.  So fast too.  This also disquiets me.  Though I am very proud of them, I am feeling at a loss for what to do with my future, with each of them growing up so fast these days.  If that sounds melodramatic - forgive me.  I'm sort of feeling melodramatic lately.

I am beginning to come to the realisation, that without the Lord bringing me a husband, I'm soon going to have to consider going into the workforce.  As each child is aging and growing, the resources I once relied on to keep me home and looking after my children, is/are drying up.  I will need to look into what to do about that.  I can't do nothing.

I'm trying not to borrow trouble.  I'm trying to remain upbeat.  I'm trying to maintain my equilibrium and hope for my future.  It is hard though.

I believe I'm feeling rather melancholy lately.

*************************
Ike passed his second attempt at his beginners theory driving test last Thursday.
He's also been off work for most of the last 4 weeks, and is driving me bananas .  He needs to work.  He needs the outlet.  He needs the feeling of doing and being, and being needed.  There isn't enough work right now, so they had to temporarily lay him off. 

Denny is just so ....  lately.  I'm not sure what is up with him, but he is getting on every single person's very last possible aching nerve lately.  I'm trying to love him through it, but I'm having a hard time even just liking him at all these days.  I know his heart.  I know he doesn't know how to say all that is in his heart, and that makes him react.  I know he was supremely hurt by Mr. Q. (Farmer fella who was really harsh on my son's ego and heart, for the month he worked for him) He's still angry.  He has not forgiven him, yet.  I know he will, but it is still to fresh and too painful for him. His pride is hurt, as well.  He feels inadequate and has turned away from his farming dreams.  He came to me today and said he is looking for a new place to walk with his dreams.  I feel so sad that this one man could do so much damage in my son's heart, to his self-confidence, his hope .

CDee is just growing up, and maturing and becoming such a good man.  I'm am very thankful for this young man and his heart.  The only thing I worry about him is his growth with the Lord.  I know he loves Jesus.  He has done so from a young age of about 6/7.  I know he rededicated himself right around 12, and continues to speak, with love, of the Lord. I don't see him growing though.  I know he has a deep prayer life, but I also know he is not getting  into God's Word.  Part of the problem is our church situation.  Neither of us can find a solution to this situation.  We just don't have the choices, as English folks in Quebec, as we need to find a new home.  He feels like an outsider looking in there.  We both do.  He use to know so many of the youth, and the young leaders at church - now, he doesn't.  Anyway ... he's trying, and he'll keep on trying.  He does love Jesus, and that the only important thing - the rest will come, as he continues to grow and mature as a man of integrity.

Michael is so much like CDee it amazes me.  Yet, he's is own quirky self too.  He loves everyone around him, and shows his love to everyone around him too.  He's cheery and gentle and sweet and giving.  He's the one child, of all of them, that I KNOW will give his all to whatever he sets himself to.  Doesn't matter if he's sweeping the floor, cleaning his turtle cage or painting the front deck he helped his Daddy fix ...he is enthusiastic and joyful in all he does - even if he hates it! .  He's a hugger and a snuggler and his heart hurt easy, but he forgives wholeheartedly and without reservation - no matter the transgression against him.   He tells me he wants to have a kennel and raise Huskies - breed them, train them and groom them.  I often wonder if he isn't going to be raising saints for Jesus .... his heart is sooooo compassionate and impassioned.  He's a good egg and I love him dearly.

Miss Belle .... how did she get so very beautiful?  I don't mean physically.  I mean her heart.  It's so beautiful, sometimes I am brought to tears with how her sweet heart works.  How she takes other peoples' meanness and turns it around and talks about them with care and love.  She's emotional.  She's dramatic.  She's modest.  She's endearing.  She's forgiving.  She's loving.  She's a little imp, and a quirky giggler and she has the most amazing joy for life, babies, families, puppies .... Even when she steps into trouble, she has the good character and integrity of spirit to admit it, deal with the repercussions and take her 'medicine' with grace and humility.  She amazes me.  I wish I could be her when I grow up.  How did she get to be almost 8?  I mean, she's my baby and she'll turn 8 in mid-November ... and how did that happen?

I want another baby.  I don't want to admit that my baby years are behind me, until my Grandbaby years get to start.   I have so much capacity for love in me to give to another baby - husband .... grandbaby .... I want to give it, I don't want to stifle it until then.


Anyway ... first I'm silent, then ya can't shut me up, hey?

Sorry about that.  Just feeling old.  Sad. Melancholy. Disquieted.

Wishing I had some of those roses to stop and smell .

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Oil Tank:
I got a registered letter on September 10, from my insurance company, informing me - completely out of the blue - that I had exactly 10 weeks to remove the old oil tank, and replace it with a new one.  Why?  It was older than they insure for.  Turns out it was original to the house, which makes it 40 years old, and they only insure up to 25 years old.  Still, great to let me know I was going to lose my insurance, and giving me so much time to deal with it.  If I lose my insurance, I have my mortgage note called in - not a good thing - trust me on that.  So, I had to garnish our food and extras budgets to the tune of $1300 over the next four months to pay for the fool thing.  So we eat skimpy for 4 months, but we still have insurance and we still have a roof over our heads.  The old oil tank was removed on Friday.  New on put in, nearly fully installed.  One vent pipe not attached yet.  I was able to send confirmation of replacement, to the insurance company on Friday.  Waiting to hear back from them, to see if anything more is required.

Old Van:
The one I killed last year.  It's been sitting in my driveway for a bit over a year now.  I'm sure the neighbours are nice and ticked about that one.   Having a problem with one neighbour, figure this is partly why.  Pulling down the real estate values, etc.  It was really just laziness on my part.  I needed to get out and clean it up, and didn't. Then we started using it like a small garage  so I didn't really want to get rid of it.  Now I just want it gone, and my yard back, before the winter parking ban hits again, and Corbin has no where to park his car.  I went out to day and removed the good stuff I'd been storing in it, then trashed everything else.

Anyway, I called the local kidney foundation today, and asked them if I could donate Rosie (white van) to their Cars for Charity/Donation thing they do.  They are sending someone today to pick it up, and will be issuing me a small tax receipt for my donation.

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My dear daughter (7) is learning how to properly apply Mama's make-up, to Mama.  She is doing a pretty good job too - no more 70's looks for me .  It use to be when she asked to do my make-up for me, I could qualify for a Michael Jackson thriller video role.  Now, she's getting very efficient at this. 

It is such a time of laughter and joy for us.  We are sharing, and talking and giggling .... and I love this little Girl.  I love our Girlie time.



You know ... the make-up turned out almost as good as I can do it.  I'm totally impressed.


She told me she thinks she might want to do cosmetology (I gave her the word - she said "people's make-ups for them Mum), when she grows up.  I wonder what she'll want to do next week

I'm not encouraging her to become a manicurist .... you should see the my fingers ... not my nails .. my fingers.  Plus she used two different kinds of polish too

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The trip he was suppose to do in late September got canceled.  His boss didn't get the paperwork in, on time, to register him for the Certified Landscaping Engineer test he was to write.

His boss told him it would be rescheduled for "sometime in October."  Well, he found out yesterday .... he will be leaving, by car, for Connecticut, to write his test on same Friday his birthday lands on. He'll be there all weekend, arriving back late Sunday afternoon.

We are all bummed.

Even with sharing visitation with XH, we have never missed celebrating any of our children's birthdays, ON their birthdays.  This will be the first time. 

I know we can celebrate before he leaves, or after he gets home - it's just not the same, that's all.  My young man isn't even going to be in his own country on his birthday, let alone with the people that love him and want to celebrate his special day with him.

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yes I know  pretty leading title hey?

Don't worry, I'm good for it


I would like to know how and why hair has grown under my chin?  I mean, I'm not a guy.  I shouldn't have chin/neck whiskers.  How come I do?  I didn't 3 years ago.  I didn't 2 years ago ... now here we are, I'm 42 and have chin whiskers .... a lot of them.

Seriously ... I think I might actually need to shave .


Where'd they come from? 

I bought this depilatory cream stuff to rid myself of the unwanted man-hair.  Now, I'm afraid to use it, in case it tricks my body into thinking that now it needs to grow thicker hair there .  I'm beginning to look like one of those folks on Ripley's Believe it or not .... sasquatch lady .. that's me.  Lisa Sasquatch Michele. 

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Poor thing



I was singing along with Travis Tritt and John Mellancamp's, What Say You .... and she said, "Oh, Mama, you have such a beautiful voice." complete with a contented sigh and big innocent blue eyes twinkling up at me. 


poor child.

In the words of my dear mother ... "I can't sing my way out of a wet paper bag."

When do you think they finally 'get' that a person can or can't sing?

Do you think she will be tone deaf her entire life?

 

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Seriously.

I'm sick to death of someone coming in at the last possible minute and sniping me by $1 or less.  Then, about 20 minutes later or so, the item I bid on, is back up and listed at a higher price.

All I want to do is get my daughter a few nice skirts and/or dresses.  All they want to do is bilk everyday folk out of their money and turn a profit.

 


I've lost every auction I've bid on, so far.  I'm to the point where she can just where a big bath towel with a lacy ribbon around her waist


Let me clarify .... I am not ticked with sellers that have more of the same item, and they list the same item again ... I'm ticked at a person who BUYS the item, then turns around an hour or 3 more, and re-lists the item they JUST WON, with the same pic and everything.  So if you make your living, or subsidize your household by selling on Ebay .. I'm not talking about you!

Wanted to add ... after ranting and raving ... I then managed to win 2 auctions for some nice dresses.

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Back in the Spring, we were shopping at the local Maxi's store (predominantly groceries sold there, but have recently branched out to household and clothing stock as well).

CDee, Belle and I were in the clothing section, checking out their liquidation items.  I needed some new underwear for Belle so we moved to that area together.

I was chatting with Belle and showing her the different sizes and shapes - seeing which one she thought would be most comfortable.  She is VERY choosy about her undergarments, as she hates anything at her belly button level - so we have to buy her the low rise, or bikini type ones (short sides, very short sides).

CDee let out a frustrated noise and then said, "This is wrong."  When I turned around to see what the problem was, he was stalking away from us, towards the front of the store.  He was gone about 10 - 15 minutes.  When he came back I asked him what was up?  He said, "Look.", and flung his arm out to indicate the aisle we were in.  I looked. I honestly, had no clue what would set him off in an underwear aisle at Maxi's.   He then said, "Look, Mum.  This aisle has the little girl underwear on this side of the aisle ... and on the other side of the aisle (same aisle) are the men's underwear displays."

He was upset because he felt it was wrong for two reasons.  1. Little girls shouldn't be forced to be looking at men's undergarment packages, with men modeling them off.  2. He felt it was extremely unwise because not all little girls are as protected as his sister, and what if some creep was skulking around in the men's undergarments area, waiting to prey on a young girl who would be innocently looking for her own undergarments.  (the girls panties were sized 2 - 14).

He had gone to put in a written complaint, and asked that the girls and mens undergarments be separated - stating it was a safety issue, not to mention visually wrong. When he filled out the complaint card, it asks for the reason - which he stated as above, the time and date of the complaint.  In the section for time and date, he wrote, "It doesn't matter. It's wrong.  Move it!."  Yes, none too polite, but his heart is/was in the right spot.

About 2 - 3 weeks ago, we were once again back at Maxi's under pant section. This time looking for something for him.  (We don't have to go to this section often LOL).  On the opposite side of the men's undergarment section is now the men's sock section.  The little girl's unmentionable section had been moved about 6 aisles away.

We don't really know if it was CDee's complaint, however I was very proud of him for seeing the potential danger, for not just his sister, but other folks daughters and sisters out there - and taking a direct stand.

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the rest of my story:  Sorry it took so long, I had to go make some supper in there

Boy #3

That was May 9th, 1981.  We started 'going together' as of May 10th, 1981 we worked fast, hey? We went to the prom together in 1981, 1982 (for his Senior Prom), 1983 (for my Senior Prom) then in 1984 (Seniors were always invited back to the prom post-grade twelve).  Gordon's dancing was ... well ... sad, when we first started up.  All jerky and weird, and looked like he was having spasms of pain out on the dance floor.  My brother, Michael, took me aside at that first prom and said, “Boy do we have our work cut out for us.” .  By the second prom, he was doing a mean jitterbug, and a heavenly waltz (we learned that one on our own.  Michael said, “No way, am I teaching a guy how to waltz!”  Mum did though , it was a laugh a minute.

We went through a lot, together, before marriage even.  He was my first 'in love' kiss, he was my first lover, he was my only lover, I was his only lover.  We were intimate before marriage though .  Not something I'm terribly proud of now, but I thought we'd done well to 'wait' as long as we did .  We 'went together' and for nearly two years before intimacy took place.  He did not pressure me, I was the one to take it to this step.  At the point where physical intimacy took place, he had already asked me to marry him, several months earlier.  Because of Wade, and the incest I had had to endure as a child, I insisted on not being pressured, and I would immediately cease our relationship, if he did pressure me.  He waited, pretty patiently too.  I thought since he had asked me to marry him, I'd said yes, we could safely go ahead now.  

About four months after we began being physically intimate – I got pregnant.  We actually used protection, but, well, it broke.. Gordon was pretty good about the whole thing though.  He stuck by me, when everyone, even my own mother, turned viciously against me . .. us.  My relationship with his mother, which had been wonderful, was totally rent, and took literally years to mend.  Even mended it was never what it was in those first two years.  We suffered a pretty bad miscarriage, in my 17th week, and I was devastated.  For all we were young, we were both more than ready to take on the task of being parents. Once the shock had let go, we really embraced it.  Everyone around us were just awful though.  The whole thing changed me.  I lost the baby in mid November of 1983.  We named our son Daniel Gordon.  If he had lived, we would now have a nearly 24 year old son!!!!

I left home in August of 1984, to begin University.  I had little money, and needed it all to pay my tuition and expenses.  When Gordon suggested the logical way to go, was for me to move in with him, I readily jumped at the idea.  I was in love with love, in love with him, and in love with doing things my way!  I moved in with Gordon, two weeks before my courses started. I never told my family – none of them.  They never came to visit me in my new home in Bedford, N.S., so they never knew that I was living with Gordon.  I'm not proud, just stating facts.  Gordon's family knew, and readily accepted the situation.  I learned later, about a week prior to our wedding, that his mother hoped we'd remain like that indefinitely. Gordon knew I wouldn't though.  

His mother took me aside the day before our wedding, and in front of her husband, and two other family members said to me:  "Gordon's Dad and I will not be giving you and Gordon a wedding present."  I said that was fine, as my Mum couldn't afford to give us anything either – so that was all good.  She then took great pains to explain further.  She told me that though they could well afford to give us a wedding gift, they were choosing not to.  I sort of blushed and said .. “Oh .... O Kay.”  She continued telling me that they didn't want to see their hard earned money going to something that would inevitably leave the family in the next 2 – 3 years, when we divorced.  She also asked me to seriously consider NOT having any children, as that would really messy up the works, when things went south.  Let's just say, if I hadn't considered having children, I did now!!!!

I looked to Gordon's Dad, who had tears in his eyes, and he gently shook his head, and turned away from me and his wife.  I was heartbroken, and very nearly canceled the whole thing.  I didn't think I was going to be able to handle this woman as my mother-in-law.  Gordon heard about it – but not from me.  He was livid and angry with his Mum, and supported me and stood by me through it all.

We were married in 1985, at 2:30pm.  All morning the skies had simply pelted and drowned the land.  I kept looking out thinking it's just going to be a disaster – all that humidity, all that rain .. all that water.  Literally, 30 minutes before our wedding began, the rains dissipated, the sun came out high and strong, and dried up everything.  The flowers were all still beaten down, but the day turned hot hot hot.


Side note:  Earlier in the day, about 2 hours before I was to become his daughter-in-law, I was down at Gordon's parents place to pick up the pew markers.  My FIL-2-B came quietly up to me in the back kitchen – with no one around and handed me this adorable little stuffed monkey, with no eyelashes.  He quietly told me, “This is my wedding gift, to you, from me. I saw it this morning, while I was out at yard sales, and it reminded me of you.  Welcome to my family.”  He gave me a little squeeze hug.  Then he turned to leave, and saw his wife, he gave me a wink and sit, “My wife washed it for me, and all the eyelashes fell out.”  He chuckled and left the room, while she stood there looking disapproving and grumpy at me.  I knew it was his way of saying sorry for all that my wife had said the day before.  Totally warmed my heart.

Well, it isn't fancy.  It's not a successful love story, but it's mine, and it's all true.

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Boy #2, is actually how Gordon and I got together.  I met Stuart and Gordon at my brother's then girlfriend, Vicky's, 16th birthday.  I was about the only uncoupled person at the party.  I actually didn't even know Vicky really.  I met her on a couple of occasions, but didn't really know her.  Michael begged me to go to the party, because Vicky wanted to break up with him, and he was devastated.  He thought I could talk to her, and keep things good between them.  I truly didn't want to go.  Mum intervened and said the only way Michael was getting the car that night, was if I went too.  Off I went.

So, I sat there at my first teen party, watching with interest all the others filtering in.  I didn't really know most of them, as I was 16 and in grade 10, and they were all (or I thought) 17/18 and in grades 11 and 12.  Trust me, grade 10 and 11/12 didn't mix.  We wanted too, but we generally didn't.  I loved watching people, still do, and so was sitting in a corner chair, close to the door, watching everyone filter in.  Michael duly introduced me to most of the people.  I had met some of them on a previous rollerskating outing (the old roller skates, with the 2 sets of wheels on them), which Michael dragged me kicking and screaming to.

Let's see, the couples: Nancy and David, Conor and Bonnie, Celine and Peter, Michael and Vicky, Andrew and Carol ... umm, I think that was it.  

Just about everyone was there, when the last two 'single' guy prospects walked in the door.  Oh boy, talk about slim pickins, if you were looking for the gorgeous department.  Both these poor souls got left behind the door, when looks were handed out - at least I was sure they were.  Hitherto, I had not realised I had such a callous disregard for character, and only honed in on looks.  

Stuart:  Tall, beanpole thin, beak-like nose, thin angular face, soft hands (eewww), sad eyes which almost looked long - rarely seemed to smile. Frizzy blond wiry hair. He acted like one of those geeky dudes out of place in any kind of group.

Gordon:  Faired only barely better than Stuart.  About the same height at beak-boy, coke bottles for glasses, long hair just past his shoulders, shy - way shy.  His outfit is what scared me the most.  We met in 1981 - he was wearing HUGE bell-bottom jeans, so tight you could snap peas on them.  I swear NOTHING was left to the imagination - except, at this point I had not imagination in that direction, so I wouldn't have known what I was suppose to be imagining .  He was wearing a purple and white , 1970's style too-small-for-him knit shirt, with a large pointed collar, unbuttoned to almost the base of his chest. It had this mind-numbing pattern on it ... wavy like rows and rows of wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww .  Topping this extraordinarily out of date outfit, was the ultimate in jackets.  It was a dark purple knit jean jacket look, with dark yellow stitching. It - he - was an assault to the eyes.

I decided right then and there - I didn't need a boyfriend.  Indeed I didn't want a boyfriend, if these were the only two blokes I had to chose from.  I was content to just be single - forever.

Stuart had other plans.  See Michael and I were very dear friends, for most of our lives, and at this point, the teenage years had not changed that.  Michael felt it was his brotherly duty to get me up and on my feet, make sure I had a good time.  So, he and I were doing a modified jitterbug dance, with the dips, swirls and twirls all that entailed, to the 'modern' music of our time.  Stuart thought I was beautiful - no surprise his Dad was one of the two town optometrists .  He asked me to dance.  I and said "yeah, I guess."  Michael was not pleased, but relinquished me to Stuart.  So we start to dance.  Problem #1 ... Stuart can't dance.  Problem #2 ... He thought he could.  Problem #3... Stuart had soft (ewww) puffy (double eww) sweaty (triple ewww) palms.  Problem #4 .... he lost his grip on me, after a particularly undignified spin.  Michael, to his credit, did try to catch me, but it was too late .. I went spinning, like some screwball B grade comedy routine, across the room.  I landed - KNEE DOWN - on Gordon.  Yep, down THERE, on Gordon.  I was mortified, apologising all over the place.  He, Gordon, took the opportunity to cop a hug - which sent Michael's blood pressure into the stratosphere!  Michael came and bodily picked me up away from the lecherous male.

A few days after the party, Stuart arrived at my house, to apologise for his oops.  He arrived the next day and the next day ... and well, you get the picture.  I thought he was nice, but I had zero interest in him, in that way.  He kept coming around.  One day, he came by on a Sunday and asked me if I'd like to go to a dog show.  I'd never seen one in my life, and was intrigued.  However, I didn't want to make him think I liked him as more than a friend, so I said no.  He asked me again, and said he didn't expect anything, liked me as a friend only, and just wanted to spend time with me.  I still felt wrong about it, but my mother was in heaven.  Her daughter was seeing the rich optometrists son - she urged me to go ... it was a great way to get to know each other better.  I was still reluctant, but I went.   It was an okay day, he was a nice person, just not the one for me, and I knew it.  Also, Wade had made me feel I only had one purpose for guys, and well, I didn't like that one purpose, so I was leery of all male interest now.  We got to the dog show, and he told me he didn't have any money, and would we like to go for a drive instead.  I suggested it would be nice to drop in on Gordon.  He and Gordon were good friends, and at this point I didn't have an interest in either boy, but I didn't want to be alone with Stuart.  So we went off and spent the afternoon with Gordon.  It was pleasant, but no earthshaking happened.  Though Gordon was definitely improving in my estimation.  He was quiet, unassuming, gentlemanly ... and sweet.  He was also improving in looks, in my eyes - not sure why, I didn't analyze it too closely.

Stuart drove me home that day, in his parents caddy.  We got to my yard, and as I went to get out of the car, he power locked all the doors.  He asked me if I'd go to his prom with him.  He said it was his graduating prom, and he didn't have a girlfriend, and I was about as close as it got.  I said I didn't think it was right, because, I didn't think of him as a boyfriend - at all.  He informed me he wasn't going to open the doors until I said yes.  Now, I have to admit, being a freshman (gr10) and being asked to the Seniors Prom, was definitely exciting.  I reluctantly agreed, but said if, between now - end of April, and the Prom date, if he found someone he really wanted to take, besides me, I would understand and we'd be fine.

So my first experience with preparing for Prom began.  Mum loved it.  The boy, the family, the prestige, the prom .. everything.  I wasn't too terribly thrilled, but off we went a galloping on the prom train.

Meanwhile, Gordon and I had been hitting it off more and more. I was always careful to keep it all very proper, and he always came out with Stuart, at Stuart's behest too.  However, I knew I was definitely having heady heart moments about Gordon, and feeling rather sad and awful about having zero for Stuart.  Finally, because of my feelings which were growing in leaps and bounds for Gordon, I finally had 'the talk' with Stuart.  I explained that I felt bad about only feeling friendship for him, and that I wanted us to 'break up'.  We had never formally started going together, but I knew he felt we were.  He agreed it was a good plan. I told him again, I'd still go to the prom with him, but if he found anyone else he really wanted to go with, just let me know.  I was honest with him, and did say I was growing feelings for another boy, and just didn't feel right about him thinking (Stuart) things could deepen, given time – which was something he had mentioned at some point, between us.  He was a bit sad.  So was I.  Stuart was a nice boy, and wound up marrying a lovely woman, with two children.  They are happy, and I see them whenever I get the chance – when I visit Halifax, N.S.


continued ...

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Well, since mine isn't really a note worthy love story .. in that it well, crashed and burned ... I thought i'd share it here, separate from the ongoing love stories .

Why do I want to share it?  Because at the time, it was a great love story, and from it came five of the most precious ongoing love stories of my life.  I've been thinking about it off and on for a bit now - since the other thread was started, really.  So here it is.  I hope it doesn't offend anyone that I've shared it here.


It'll be in 3 parts, cause well, I can't say anything in 100 words, that 1000 couldn't say better



I was a shy, awkward, self-conscious, girl of 15.  I had precisely 3 boyfriends in my entire life.  I was not boy crazy, and indeed felt I was rather unattractive to the opposite sex, so didn't even bother with the whole craze thing.

My first boyfriend, Wade was 18, I was 15.  Mum had always said no dating until I was 16.  However, Mum also was a sucker for a good looking man - just like my grandmother too.  Mum was, self-admitted, completely boy crazy for the majority of her life - even though she was never promiscuous, she said the possibility was there for her to have been.  Wade was gorgeous.  I'm talking Hollywood gorgeous.  I felt very unworthy of his attentions, but quite excited too.  He asked me 'out'.  I asked my Mum if I could, and she agreed, so long as we weren't alone with each other.  So we started going out.

I adhere to Mum's rule, for the first 2 months or so, but eventually rebelled, with Wade's urgings, and we would sneak off, at lunch time, to his Aunt's place - where he was living - to ... ah ... neck.  That was as physical as I'd let it get.  Kissing, hugging, hand-holding, etc. - but not the BIG etc. 

He definitely wanted more, and pressured me for more.  Did the whole "if you love me you will" routine.  I did not like being pressured and balked - badly.  After another month of him pushing and pushing at me, and realising I had a very large and deeply rooted stubborn streak, he began to 'cool' towards me.  I honestly didn't notice, but was glad the pressuring had stopped. The icing on the cake was when he took my friend, Yasmin, to the beauty pageant at school.  She was a contestant, and Wade was still ticked with me, because I declined the nomination to be a contestant.  I dislike, heartily, being the center of attention .. and dislike - on a nuclear level - public speaking.  Being a member of the Queen's Court, would require both.  I opted out - Wade was furious with me.

Yasmin was stunning, and sweet, and new to the school - and my friend.  Wade had asked me if he could take her, because in his words, "I love being the center of things, and if I go with you, I won't be.  If I go with Yasmin, everyone will be looking at me, and her."  I told him it would bother me, but it was ultimately his choice.  Yasmin, to her credit, came and asked me if I was okay with it all.  I'm incredibly non-confrontational, and I really liked Yasmin - I said it was up to Wade.  She is of Eastern decent, pakistani - I think?, and was 'promised' to a boy back in the home land, and was very serious about her commitment to her fiance back there, and her faith.  I knew nothing would ever happen between her and Wade.  Also, her brother, my other friend, Zahar, was going as her chaperone.

They went.  I was hurt.  I didn't tell anyone, and just bled a lot on the inside.  Our relationship changed completely after that.  During our last month of 'going steady', he seemed bent on putting me in awkward embarrassing situations.  I now realise it was to get me to break it off with him.  I was naive, loyal and just simply wasn't getting the picture.  Finally, he told me point blank ... "I'm looking for some one who'll give me what I want ... sex and the spotlight.  If you aren't her, you need to either change that or move along."  I mustered all my courage and told him, he wasn't who *I* wanted, and we were finished.  I wasn't handing myself to him, because he wanted sex.  We were over. 

I hurt for quite a while, but eventually got over it.  We became friends later on.  We lost touch after highschool.  Although Gordon and I did go see him a few times after we were married. The last time I saw him IRL was when CDee was about 9 - 10 months of age.  Now  he has gained notoriety, and the spotlight he so craved, throughout New Brunswick and the g@y community for having the distinction of being the first married g@y couple in that province.  Oh the joy ..

I either send them to Redlight districts, or to other men .

continued ...

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this blog was inspired by some dear women sharing their homes, through pictures, on a cyber home I belong to.  Most of these homes were organised, tidy, homey and beautiful.

Do you know what all these pictures of your homes make me want to do?



Hire a dumpster.

And.


throw everything, except appliances and absolutely necessary furniture ... in it.

Toys. extra furniture, clothes, dishes, shoes, boots, hangers, even books (not all of them, save the good ones, and the school ones - but everything else GONE).  Every thing, in every room would be stripped down bare.  Then, maybe, I would have a home worthy of taking a few pics and sharing. 


I've been trying, since the first one was posted a couple of weeks ago ... to be able to get to the point of taking a picture to share.  Trust me, it would be an uncomfortable thing, indeedy, to just walk in to any room in this house (that's all 10 rooms, 2 bathrooms, hallway, stairways and entryway) and just click a picture and then blissfully go and upload it here - or anywhere.  I wouldn't be able to just say please excuse the drying dishes on the counter, or the fixings for breakfast, or the magazine and load of laundry, or small toys or whatever, in the picture.  We haven't done our morning chores yet.

HA!  You, my dear beloved sisters and friends, have NO IDEA of what messy, dirty, unkept can be.  Not if I go by the pictures I saw here. 

I really really wish I had the guts to just do that.  Hire a dumpster, and just go through each room systematically stripping it down to barren, utilitarian needs only.  I'm thinking, specifically, of the Convent our Women's Retreats are held in.  The rooms are quiet, dignified and just what you need, nothing more.  A small bathroom off each, a single bed, comfortably made up with solid good blankets, a pretty coverlet.  Nice matching curtains. A small chair to sit in, a desk to write at, and a small bureau.  Nothing else.

Now, lest you think I thought any ... I mean ANY of your homes looked that way ... sort of utilitarian, and plain - NOT AT ALL.  I thought they were lovely.  Most were attractively set out, with little touches of individuality showing through - even in rooms housing many children.

I was, I have to admit (seems a day for admitting things, for me.) envious of just about every home displayed.  The home-i-ness, the order, the peace, family, contentment .... I don't know .. just that 'it' that homes with lots of love (for the members of it, and their 'space') show.

I'm not doing a very good job explaining this ... but I know in my heart, what I'm trying to say ... and it is good (about your homes ).

No really point to this entry ... just sort of ... wistful and longing, for something I clearly am not good at accomplishing - over the long haul.  (I can often get it in gear for short periods of time ... but that's about it).

Thought I should note:
Just so no one worries, this is not about being down or depressed.  Trust me, since I've actually been through depression, I do know what that feels like.  This is not that.

it's more about a waking up, looking around, and just not liking what I see, where I'm at.  Feeling somewhat overwhelmed with how to get from here .....................>to there.  I mean both with my weight and our physical home.

It honestly isn't a pity party ... more of a Get With it Party.  But how do I get with it, and what do I bring to the party?

 
I'm not sitting here all mope-y, sad and down, thinking dark thoughts.  I'm really just at a place where I crave change, and am having a very difficult time dealing with how to satisfy those cravings - needs.

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Can I admit this?  Should I admit this?  Even to myself, should I admit this?  Let alone, admitting it out loud on my blog?

I'm both reluctant and scared to go weigh myself.  I don't mean just reluctant or scared today. I mean I dread every single Tuesday morning now.  I'm tired of losing and gaining the same stupid 3.5 - 5 pounds.  Up to 226 - down to 221.4, up to 222.8, up to 225.4 ... down to 221.8, and on and on it goes.

I ate very very poorly yesterday AND Sunday.  It doesn't seem to matter that I go regularly to the gym now, and exercise hard while I'm there.   It doesn't seem to matter when I eat GREAT for a week, or when I eat sort of great for part of the week, then off, then on ... then back to okay.  It also doesn't matter if I eat just okay ... or really awful.  I'm still up and down the 5lb yoyo tree every single week.  I'm getting very frustrated with the whole thing.


Then I start to ruminate, and even , to myself.  I'm wondering what's so bad about being 4'11" and weighing 22_._ - forever.  I'm still the same woman inside, I argue with myself.  Why should it matter whether I way 125, 156, 185 or 22_ or whatever. It doesn't change my personality, it doesn't change my character.  It doesn't change my faith, or my faithfulness (or lack there of, as the day might be.) I mean, all that changes is my pants size, my shirt size .... my mirror's size - right?  I'm learning this thought process may well be wrong.  I don't want it to be wrong.  I need the excuse of it being RIGHT.  I want it to be right so bad, I think I've convinced myself of it over the years, and especially over the weeks of this challenge.

You know though, it's a lie I tell myself.  Yes, I'm not going to be nicer, or meanier, or bitterer, or more faithful, faithless, spiritual, empty - whatever, if my scale reads up or down.  But .... but.  My heart is definitely down when that scale is so so so high .  There in, lies my downfall.  Pride.

Pride.  I so hate that word.  It convicts me every time I see it.  I hasten to leap in and say, "Pride!  Not me!  I don't have pride issues.  I mean, don't you have to BE proud, to have Pride issues?  You know, rich, snobbish, skinny, the ultimate in Home Schooling gurus, wise (and know it!), super organised, beautiful "Better Homes and Gardens" homes, intelligent, intellectual .... you know, be someone who has a reason to be proud, to have pride as an issue. The reality is - I need none of those things to be proud.  Actually, you can have ALL of those things, and still not be proud.  You might be misguided, lonely (for some of them), but not necessarily proud.  Pride, to me, is when you know the truth of something, don't like it, and turn your eyes blind to your own fault(s), and foolishly belief, you do not have a problem with that, do not need help, accept no help.  Why?  You don't want to give up the control to the Father in that area.  You don't want to need help. You want to be able to do it in *your* strength. Well, that's me. 

I should journal.  I don't.  Why?  Because then I would no longer be able to stand here in prideful 'innocence' shouting ---- I don't understand.  I'm exercising.  I hardly eat. WHY AM I NOT LOSING WEIGHT?  I'M DOING IT ALL RIGHT!. Can we all see the screaming pride?  Then the biggest lies I have in my arsenal, as a Christian, come to my rescue.  'God loves me as a fat woman.'  'God allowed me to become and stay a fat woman.'  'It must not be my time to lose weight, or the Lord would be blessing my efforts.'  So many other lies come tripping to my rescue every day. 

Pride.

Now, if I can admit this fault and failing, what do I do with it now?  How do you just 'let it go, and let God?'  I thought I was doing that - I haven't been.  So how do you literally put this thing - eating - at the throne of Jesus, lock stock and  barrel, and walk away?  I need food to survive. It's not like an alcoholic, or a drug addict, or gambler ... who can actually walk away from their vise.  Not have it in the house, in every store and mall, and gas station they go to.   It's inescapable.  If you love food, how do you come to a place of loving just the right amount of food - and nothing more?  How do you give up those things that taste so yummy?  How do *I* let go? 

I don't want to spend my life as a 220 something pound woman.  I remember feeling so discontent when I weighted 101lbs (nearly 25 years ago!).  I remember feeling discontent at 123, and a 130 ... and a 145.  Oh how I wish I could feel THAT kind of discontent now.  Now, I feel nothing but loathing, for this blob I have become. 

Love others, as you love yourself ... oh boy, do I have a problem then.  I certainly can't even pretend to love myself - I don't.  How, then, can I love others?  How can I love Jesus?  The Father?  The Holy Spirit?   I can't.

There's the truth.  I can't. 

Maybe, the only thing that can come out of this is an ending.  Not an ending to being morbidly obese, No. An ending to this crippling pride.

I need help.  I need a food mentor.  An exercise mentor.  I spiritual guide through this minefield of food, scales, journals - everything.  I think I seriously need someone to hold my hand, even my fridge ... and hold me up, because I fall down so often, I'm too weak to hold myself up.  You say ...well, go to the Father.  Yes.  I know.  That is the place I should go.  I do talk to my Father about it, but I also remember Moses.  The Father knew Moses felt too weak to do everything asked of him.  He knew Moses could do it, but Moses didn't believe he was up for it.  God gave him Aaron.  Aaron encouraged Moses.  Aaron was strength to Moses, when Moses was too weak to go on.  Aaron even held Mose's arm aloft, when he was growing weary of the task at the Red Sea.   There are other examples of the Father giving aid to His chosen envoy throughout the Bible.

Pride goes before the fall, they say.  Well, I don't know about that. I am an intelligent woman, and I haven't the first idea how to truly even start. I think, in this area, in particular (there are others, but those are other posts), I have fallen.  I can't get up.  I'm too weak.  I'm too fat.  I'm too beat. I need an Aaron.

If  this journey has shown me anything, it's shown me: my failure, my empty heart, my pride.  I'm not seeking pats on the back, commiseration, pity party participants ... I'm just letting go of my pride, and showing my heart.

It's not a pretty sight.  I wonder what the Father wants me to do with this mess?

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