Da Bomb . . .
Day 1739 Da Bomb!
I has pichurs!! Remind me to bust them loose before the end of the post wouldja? (No Q, no HNT stuff for you. Yet. Maybe.)
The weekend was productive. That was helped immensely by the gorgeous weather we enjoyed up here in the north east. That was our payback for a shitty winter – we got nice holiday weather. Temps in the 70’s, mostly sunny, light breeze – great painting weather.
Painting the porch occupied the vast majority of the weekend. Finished priming, got the first coat complete on the outside. Got some pictures of the progress. It’s really looking nice. Even managed to get some of the foundation planting in. It’s a little earlier than I’d like, what with some painting left to do, but potted plants just don’t do well. They require so much more watering. Of course, now we’re in for 3 or 4 days of rain so no worries there (figures!).
The weekend was not without it’s drama too. I’ve mentioned here that Cindy has been ‘slipping’ of late, and I think she thought that my not mentioning it meant that everything was peachy. Well. Friday evening, I refused to go out to dinner, opting to order in instead. My reason? She’d been sneaking drinks all afternoon. She wasn’t totaled, but she was at that point where she couldn’t stop offering information, thought she was being so open & friendly and couldn’t shut the fuck up. Plus she starts to adopt this fake Delaware accent (yes, they have an accent there, at least compared to us normal folks) and you know motor skills degradation is not far off.
So I just suggested we order “to go” from a local joint. She was pissed, but considering she was drunk, I didn’t much care. By Saturday, she was over it. We also worked our butts off Saturday. Sunday I got to painting early, putzed around with the pond a bit, and put ribs in the smoker. Had the whole fandamily coming over for a picnic that afternoon, to finally properly christen the porch. When my mom rolled in, I put the paint brushes away, showered up and got ready for the clan. Cindy? Was already priming her pump.
The porch christening was a smashing success. I had a few beers, my brothers had a few beers, the girls (SIL’s & nieces) had a glass or two of wine, my boys and their girls had a beer or two. Cindy pretty much kept up. But. She made sure her cocktails looked like iced tea. She had her wine out of in pewter water goblet (so did all the wine drinkers actually) and she wasn’t bashful about having a beer later on in the evening. I said nothing about it at the time. No sense calling her out in front of a crowd.
But. Monday morning we had our couples therapy session. Scheduling-wise, Cindy had her 1 on 1 first, I chilled out in the waiting room doing the crossword puzzle (Monday NY times, in ink, thankyewvurymush) and reading. When I got called in for the couples part is when the Enola Gay took flight.
Janine (the counselor) asked hw things were going. Cindy offered up a “pretty good” while doing a good job of being cheery & upbeat. When it was my turn, I turned to Cindy and said “Do you know why I decided against going out to dinner Friday night? It’s because I didn’t want to spend a meal sitting in a restaurant with someone that had spent the afternoon drinking. I really don’t care to spend my time that way.” From there, I brought up how I’ve noticed she’s been drinking with increasing frequency, citing very specific examples. I mentioned how it made me feel uncomfortable and fear that she was headed right back down the path that would land her where she was (WE were) 2 years ago, and I didn’t want to go back there.
You can imagine the kind of awkward silence that followed. There was no outward denial. I never mentioned how much she drank, what she had, where her stash was hidden or how I could tell. I really didn’t force anything, just stated what I knew, how it made me feel, what it made me afraid of.
I think it hit pretty hard. After the dust settled, Cindy & Janine spent some more 1 on 1 time while I went back out to the waiting room. After a few minutes, I heard the outer door close and Janine asked me to come back t her office. Once there, she re-assured me that what I had done was ok, necessary and done about as gracefully as possible. (No small thanks to Annette and her reading recommendations.) Janine also mentioned that when working with couples, she normally sees each individual in one on one sessions to get a sense where each of them is coming from. Even though I’m seeing Annette, I agreed to at least one session with her, just to let her get a feel for where my head is – or what is (or isn’t) going on inside.
So that’s what I did on my Memorial Day Vacation. Painting, planting, ponding and protecting. As in protecting my boundaries. Cindy and I have talked about the simplest of things since then, but she’s ignored the provided openings into discussing what went down that morning. To the plus side – she’s been to meetings every evening since (including tonight). I’m trying to speed read a book titled something like “7 conversations to have that are key to a successful relationship” (or something like that) in an effort to figure out how to get a meaningful conversation started. Seems like it shouldn’t be so hard to do, but we are both at rather heightened anxiety levels and it’s difficult to talk about anything without worrying about hurting feelings, what the others reaction might be or even just being interested in engaging in something like that. (Did that make sense? Felt rather like a vowel movement.)
Subject change. Went to quitnet.com and looked up my not-smoking stats. Because I’ve been popsting so infrequently I actually forgot how many days it’s been. Here’s what they look like:
Quit Date: 8/22/2004 7:00:00 PM
Time Smoke-Free: 1738 days, 13 hours, 12 minutes and 46 seconds (as of 8:13am EDT 5/27/2009)
Cigarettes NOT smoked: 34771
Lifetime Saved: 8 months, 25 days, 14 hours
Money Saved: $7,095.12 (that’s at the old price of $4.08 a pack for the generics I smoked back then. Now, Cindy is paying closer to $7.50)
Stole this from Q, over there at <a href=”http://hookedonquack.blogspot.com/”>Hooked on Quack</a>. It’s from TMI Tuesday, and this is really too much. (Like the last page or so wasn’t too much already) Read on:
1. Before the industrial revolution, most people never traveled more than 30 miles from their home. How far from your birth place do you now live? From the house my parents lived in at the time, 3.7 miles. From the hospital in which I was born, 6.1 miles. From the house where I grew up, 5.4 miles. I G00gle mapped it. Furreels.
2. What is the farthest distance from home you have you have ever had sex or an orgasm? 1432 miles. What is there farthest distance you have traveled from your home to have a sexual encounter? For the specific purpose of getting it on? 11.7 miles. Unless you count coming home on leave while in the army, then it’s more like 2680 miles. (This is tough too. When in the service, I was 2680(ish) miles from home, but that was ‘home’ at the time – so I’m not really counting escapades there as far from home)
3. How many states (or Canadian provinces or your country’s geopolitical division) and counties have you had sex and/or an orgasms in? Fl, Wa, NY, Cn, NH, Vt, Va, SC, Pa, in the US, Ont. and BC in Canada. Nothing in Europe, darnit.
4. Have you ever had sex in a vehicle? 2 months ago . . . While the vehicle was moving? Well, yes, but not according to Bill Clintons definition of ‘having sex’ . . .
5. Do you have any travel related fantasy? Not especially. If so, share, please. Isolation, outdoors, no bugs, tropical – this IS a fantasy, right?
Bonus: On holidays that honor our military do you tend to remember those currently serving or veterans of military service? I honestly considered those who are serving, those I served with and those who have gone before. Many of us just trudged along, doing our jobs. Many others paid the ultimate price. It feels so inadequate to be able to only say “thank you”.
Now for the pictures:
Oh yeah – the wedding favors are done. Programs are done. Flowers are set. 9 days to go. Starting to get REALLY excited.