Why must so struggle so much to go home and go to bed whenever I know he’ll not be here with me? If I know he’ll be getting home and going to bed well after midnight, rather than just going to be early, I almost always end up, without really meaning to do so, staying up myself until about five or ten minutes before he gets home.
What’s with that?
Here I am still up tonight, despite being so exhausted that I am falling asleep sitting upright and with no back rest while I type this. He doesn’t finish his rodeo shift until 7am. He won’t be here during the night… and yet I’m still up… Ugh.
Going to sleep now, though. Goodnight.
God, please, keep him safe and well. Thank you for this life. Amen.
I have a very full day tomorrow. However, it is all stuff that is really good for me, in some way or other, and can produce very positive results. I have the workout at the gym at 7:30am – boy, do I want to sleep in instead(!), especially looking at what the workout is. Then shower and change at home to be ready at the gun range at 11am, so I can test out shooting a bunch of 9mm pistols (that TERRify me, mind you) and see if there is one we can find that doesn’t make me ball upon use. Then I’m rushing to a birthday party, where I’m hoping to be in time to take a professional level photo with my man (while he’s on his way to another rodeo shift, which is where he already is right now until 1am…), and then enjoy hanging out and meeting the other people at the party for this meet friend of mine. Then I’m going to the rodeo 1)to check up on my man and see if he needs or wants anything special for his shift, and also 2)to deliver and gift some hats to some of the police officers who work with us all at the rodeo and who make all the difference.*
Then, I guess, I can go home.
However, our committee has a club crawl happening from mid-afternoon into the evening and night…, so I might attend that or just part of that, after I deliver the hats, of course.
Then I can go home.
Now, a couple comments about today. 1)A security guy asked me how I was doing, when he was checking my bag at the rodeo. I answered that I was okay and ‘kinda hot and [something I can’t recall right now; ugh!]’. He, quite casually and calmly replied, ‘Well, that makes sense – I do believe you are rather attractive.’ Not even joking. I laughed, and told him it was a very good response, and I thanked him, too, I believe, before I walked away.
Now, I must sleep. Goodnight.
*I was talking with a couple of said officers today. The women, I noticed, had two sets of handcuffs on the back of her belt. The man, I then checked, only had one set of cuffs. What gives? So, I asked them why she had two and he only had one. Their response? A short pause, and then, “She works in the courts, and I work with corpses.”
I kid you not – he said that. And he meant it, too. Apparently, he does crime scenes for the main part of his job. And she said that, in her role, she genuinely uses handcuffs every day, and, even, multiple times a day.
Tonight was steak night for my man’s other rodeo committee. We had a great time. And the steak and the rest of the food truly was awesome.
Tonight was, apparently, also the ‘run into everybody by odd coincidence’ night. I just happened today see an old buddy getting out of his car as I walked up to the committee tent. He had no association with the committee until just this year, so I was surprised to see him. But I was not surprised to see him, because his mom had just posted on Facebook about how he was doing so much with the rodeo this year, and I had wondered just today what she’d meant by that. So, I got to ask him and found out.
The people who eventually sat with us at our table and stayed – others came and ate and left, that buddy and his girlfriend included, but they came back way later – not only were tied to girls form my high school, but my mom had run into one of those girls last weekend at something else entirely. I was able to tell them something their niece had done that they hadn’t been yet known. (Good, not bad stuff.) And then, come to find out, these people live down the street from and know reasonably well my sister… and her husband.
Now, my sister’s husband does this po’dunk country growling kind of mumbling yell whenever he’s fussing at the kids or at the baseball boys or, well, yelling in general at times. Somehow, within fifteen seconds of their learning who my sister was, both of the men, who are brothers, and my man are all standing over the table in a sort of crouch, imitating very effectively this growling-mumbling-yell that my sister’s husband does. And, frankly, it was hilarious. 😛
Anyway, now I must sleep. Early rodeo shift for me tomorrow morning. Goodnight!
Someone – I shan’t say who it is – keeps letting bugs into the house, specifically mosquitos. And someone – meaning I – keeps getting bitten by said mosquitos. Ugh!
I’ve gone to bed several nights of the past two weeks with multiple mosquito bites around my body. Tonight is yet another of those night.
God, heal us, please. Help us to pursue your will for us, that we share your love by being our best selves in the world. In your name, I pray. And thank you. Amen.
P.S. Did I mention that I resigned from my part-time job? And, boy, am I feeling relieved and good about it. It was time, for sure. Now, just to take on the terror of self-paced school, doing it as fast as possible so that I can start earning pay again. Dear God, help me, please. Amen.
She says in Spanish, ‘Is there another salsa? A green salsa?’ The waiter replies in Spanish that there is a cilantro, creamy green sauce that is kind of a topping sauce. ‘Yes, could we have that also, please?’ He agrees and thanks are given.
So far, they have gone through almost two normal containers of the red salsa, eaten almost entirely by him, her man, not the waiter. They continue eating the chips with the delicious red salsa.
After less than a minute, a small container of delicious-looking green creamy salsa arrives. It is smaller than the size of a shot of alcohol, much smaller than the regular red salsa dishes on the table. She looks down at the green salsa. He, her man, not the waiter, looks down at the green salsa. The two look at each other briefly before she, with a lightning-fast move, grabs the green salsa and moves it to her far corner of the table, out of his reach.
He does not share food well. He admits it fully. He devours food. Sharing happens only by speed and force, before he can finish eating, or else it usually doesn’t happen at all. They both know that this is why she has taken the salsa. Two normal dishes of red salsa have been eaten entirely by him at this point. She has full rights for her move. But he doesn’t trust her, because he wouldn’t trust himself if he’d been the one to grab the green salsa first (which he’d tried to do).
He retaliates by grabbing the chip basket and moving it to his far corner of the table.
It is a Mexican (food) stand-off. She says as much, chuckling.
They begin negotiations. ‘Let me get a scoop, and I’ll give you three chips.’ ‘Let me get that scoop for you, so you don’t take all the salsa in one scoop.’ ‘No, let me get the scoop, or I won’t give you any chips.’ ‘Then you won’t get any salsa.’ ‘Okay, put the green salsa over here for one scoop, and I’ll give you three chips.’ ‘How about I hold the salsa over here, and you can get a FAIR and small scoop yourself, then give me three chips?’
They reach an accord.
She holds it tentatively to make sure he doesn’t scoop half of it out in one go. He surprised her by confirming that his amount is okay, and even wipes a bit back on the container before asking. She approves. He eats. She asks for her chips. He gives her one.
The container is small, so she breaks the chip in half. She dips and eats one half and dips and gives the other to him. He gives her another chip, and the process repeats, repeatedly.
‘See?’ she asks. ‘I told you I would be fair with the chips and the salsa.’ He just smiles and eats another bite of chip and salsa.
After a while, she has had her fill and hands the container off to him. He devours what is left in mere moments, it seems. They both know she was right to take the salsa, though he doesn’t want to admit it, and that’s okay for both. They got the chips and salsa they had wanted, and they got them together, which was what had mattered most.
………..
I just hope you can see us being idiots at the restaurant tonight. 😛
But not in the poor emotional way – in the really good way(!) and from my part-time job. Yay!
I actually felt giddy after sending it in. My man said it perfectly that this is just an opening for what’s next now. I am ready to move forward from that work, and be my best self elsewhere.
Thank you, God, for this opportunity and this blessing. Thank you for this chance to develop myself and to learn how to be more and more myself each day and in more circumstances through this job I’ve had the past two+ years. Help me to use all of that to move forward powerfully and to fulfill your will. Thank you. In your name, I pray. Amen.
We had the availability tonight, so we chose to have ourselves a date night together. We even thought that, since we were going to an early dinner, we might even go to the cook-off just to check it out, try the free barbecue, visit the Jack Daniel’s tent with his special Jack Daniel’s card, and just have a small little hang out there together.
We, of course, fooled around getting ready, and so didn’t actually leave until maybe an hour after intended to go to dinner. Granted, we’d thought we’d stop for a haircut for him on the way, but the place was closed early, so we never even stopped. But that only saved us about 20 minutes or so. Nonetheless, we have dinner, determine that neither one of us really feels like going to cook-off anymore, and we head home. We diddle around at home some more and then put on a movie. But we’re both so tired, we stop the one we’d picked and chose one we knew we’ll and didn’t mind missing if we fell asleep or went in and out. Keep in mind, this is at 9:30pm, now.
We put on Shrek, then. I make it only to the scene where he starts to fall, after saying, “But you ain’t ever seen a donkey fly!” before I apparently passed out. I don’t think my man made it even that far.
At about 2am, I woke up on the sofa, hot and uncomfortable and with my legs falling asleep, lying across his, hanging off the sofa. I wake him up multiple times over the next half hour, as I shower and get ready for bed, because he had wanted to nap and then go to the gym… still not sure st this point if the gym is happening tonight, though.
I’m about to collapse into bed now – just finishing this and my stretches. Got to check on him quickly first, then I can sleep.
But really, how silly is all that for a date night? Clearly, we are exhausted.
Dear God, please, grant us restful sleep tonight especially, please. In your name, we pray. Amen.
Well, our first rodeo shift went rather well, especially for a first shift and for only the second day of cook-off. We only got yelled at once, and it was by someone on the committee who clearly needed to ‘be in charge’ and ‘be the boss’ for the minute, without having any idea what actually was going on in the moment. And we got it all handled quickly, anyway, and that person left, because her shift was over, anyway. Aside from that, things were mostly normal and good.
My mom and I stopped in a bathroom on our way out, and I realized then that I hadn’t yet seen myself in a mirror in my rodeo uniform. I had always looked at myself in the mirror during rodeo, in our uniform, I mean, and felt that I looked so blah and not-womanly and not-pretty. I always looked a little bit of a mess, somehow, even if I was freshly cleaned and brushed and whatnot. There was just something about it I couldn’t seem to shake off: I didn’t look very good in our uniform, the black cowboy hat, the vest, and the white collared button-down shirt.
Last year was the first time that, suddenly, I not only didn’t look not-very-good anymore, but I actually looked pretty. I looked like a woman. I looked beautiful. I was wearing the same exact uniform as the year before, the same shirt and vest and hat. And I had the same long hair, just a few inches longer. Yet something was different, because I was pretty. It made me smile like crazy whenever I looked in the mirror. And I noticed that I looked at myself much more often than in the past. It felt good to see myself looking so good. It was the opposite of a Catch 22.
This year, I have short hair. And I’ve been a bit of a mess off and on in terms of looking feminine and pretty and all, ever since I cut it. It’s just about shoulder length now, and I was worried I’d be back to looking boyish again, and very much not pretty.
And yet, when I saw myself in the mirror tonight, I was shocked. My hair somehow looked perfect and cute and girly and pretty. I looked beautiful, gorgeous, good. And so it began again, smiling at myself in the mirror. I look forward to seeing more of this beautiful woman in the near future. This truly shows that what’s going on in our heads impacts a lot in terms of how we appear physically. When I’m happy, healthy, holy in my head, so, too, isn’t body. When I’m uneasy, stressed, and feel like I’m not worth it, so, too, is my body.
Thank you, God, for this blessing of joy that has caused such wonderful beauty in my life. Thank you for this life, and thank you for this love. Help me to share your love, especially with those who so openly share love with me. In your name, I pray. Amen.
You see, I had something else I was going to share, but I cannot seem to remember what on Earth it was. Ironically, I’ve had the Italian word, “dimenticare,” on repeat in my head for the past couple hours… “to forget.” Quite apt, right? 😛
hannah ananas 