Saturday, August 10, 2013

Cute Or Creepy?

     Rule number one of wooing: If you have to ask yourself if it would be cute or creepy to do something... Just refrain from doing it. Please.

     Example number one:
            I was recently talking to a friend when feelings were thought be to be deeper then what they were (We will call him William). I typically dont have time for all those shenanigans, but I thought Id give the poor sap a shot (mistake number one). After a few weeks, we found ourselves arguing more then we were getting a long. Typically a big red flag to just call it quits, off rip. So then he turned into the girl of the relationship... Pulling the, "Dont ever talk to me again." and would proceed to text me the next day pouring his heart into a lovely 25 page text message. And I would flat out tell him, I didnt have time for that nonsense. Not to mention those texts wouldnt come in order. Naturally I blew him off, Told him not more, shut the door and locked that bitch. BUT THIS MOTHERFUCKER WAS NOT HAVING IT. The sappy text message books turned into hate-books, and then right back to being sappy. Talk about emotional whip lash.

      Weeks of no contact went by and I thought I was in the clear. So Im at work, focusing on the one thing Im passionate about that didnt involve sweaty, naked body's. And Out of the corner of my eye I see a grey shirt swift by with the mother fucking quickness. All I hear is my Co-worker say, "That was so weird.." in her valley girl voice. So I look up and out of the window, and I see this crazy man, William, scuffling away. Look down on the bench, my favorite order from Taco Bell and a burnt cd sat out on the bench.

     No warning... Nothing. A random drop off of food and music. Cute or creepy?

     Example number two: (this one wont be quite the novel)
               Having an easy day at work. Not overly booked, Not completely dead. Smooth sailing, especially when all your co-workers are in good moods. By the time I get out of work its dark, and thank you to the buddy system, I was walking out listening to another girl rant about her, Boyfriend-thats-not-a-boyfriend. I get out out to my car, go to unlock it and LOW AND BEHOLD, There is a bouquet of flowers, a  bag of my favorite chocolate and a very sappy Hallmark card signed, "Miss you." And I flip. Halfway freaking out, half way fucking livid. All I could think: Was it William? Is he in the parking lot? Is this motherfucker watching me? Was it the ex of Christmas past? Was it a complete random? Was it the current flavor of the month?

     First thing out of my friends mouth who was with me, "Your love life is catastrophic." Fuck you, thirsty bitch. Anywho, So I call the one person I lightweight HOPED it could be from and he had no clue where my company is even located. Fuck. fuckfuckfuck. So I narrow it down to two people. I message them both, and I play coy. Very well. William made sure not to respond until he knew I would be fucking asleep (I know how he works and he knows waking me up will piss me off enough to pay him attention. Which didnt work because I knew what he was aiming for). And then The Ex of Christmas Past danced very well around the questions I was asking.

     After a few games of twenty questions. I had the answer I wanted, and One very salty ass William, because it wasnt him.

     Cute or Creepy that an ex that I have only talked to enough, since we broke up, to argue with and call each other names would drop off two of my favorite things, in my car, at my place of working?

   Dont get me wrong, I get a soft spot in my heart when the person Im letting see me naked, at the time, shows a bit a chivalry... But from a random-gone-sour-ex? I dont know.

Obviously I need do more in depth background checks when it comes to introducing men to Narnia. 

Thursday, August 8, 2013

True Text. Rachet Style.

Ladies and Gentleman.
      Happy Friday! This is Rachet, the new co-admin. I will be sharing my favorite stories of the most filthy things I can myself into. From blunt, hurtful truths, all the way down to the hate-fucks. But I dont have time for people who get butt-hurt easily... So keep that negative shit to yourselves.

    Are you finding yourself wonder where this random lady came from to co-blog. Well it was quite the epiphany. One text sent and it was pretty much set in stone:
                         "Sooo. Im telling you this because you'll be the only one that understands. My lay last night ended with a high five and a reference to my vag being Narnia." It was basically Texts From Last Night Style.

     We have always shared our dirty secrets and stories, but in light of recent events. The timing is just perfect. I will answer any, and all questions. Just keep in mind, I am not quite the novel writer my Silly Slut is, But I can guarantee to keep you entertained.


Monday, May 13, 2013

Warning! You may be offended by this post.

So, yesterday was Mother's Day, and I guess I said some severely inflammatory things. I was eaten alive by strong minded women and women with infertility issues. But the thing is, I wasn't trying to offend anyone. I really wasn't. But I was offended by posts all over Facebook commending women who have pets, on a day meant for women who have paced the floor at three am smelling like vicks vapor rub and formula. Women who have gone to parent teacher conferences covered in snot, hair in a pony tail because she couldn't get the time to brush it before herding children into a minivan.

The day to day jobs of motherhood aren't easy. It is a thankless, frustrating job. The pay sucks and the retirement is nil. The only long term benefits we get are grandchildren and if we did a good job, we don't have to worry about getting thrown into the state funded nursing home. It is a job we have FOR.THE.REST.OF.OUR.LIVES. We can't just buy another if it runs away. There is nothing on this Earth that can change that I am a mother, I will be a mother until the day I die. I was lucky, I carried and birthed one of the pregnancies I have experienced. No, I didn't get the chance to raise every pregnancy I carried. It was sheer dumb luck that the second pregnancy took, and I was going to be a mother. I have been pregnant three times. I have one living child. I understand the heartache and the pain, physical and emotional, of losing someone you don't know yet.. but love with everything in your being.

I don't hate pets. Common misconception. I adore pets, and have had many of them through my life. Even right now, I would love to get a kitten or a puppy, but where we live, we can't have pets. Some of you may remember not too long ago I had a puppy... I posted pics of her on my page. I was in love with her. Sadly, she passed away, and we buried her in the backyard, under a tree she would lay under. I cried for two days. Then, my life went on. Maybe it is the rational part of my mind that can make the distinction between the bond I can have with a pet, and the bond I can have with a child. And there is no comparison.

I am not trying to diminish anyone's feelings for what is in their lives, what tethers them to the world. And if you feel that way, I am truly sorry. But to me, being a pet owner is worlds different than being a parental figure in a human child's life. And I am honestly confused how anyone could compare the two.

In my life, there is a wonderful woman. She is beautiful, loving, smart, and would make a damn fine mother. Her heart is so full of the love that she could give to her own child, but her husband refuses to adopt, and says he is comfortable with his life the way it is. So, she will never be able to be a mother. She has resigned to that, spent her tears on it, and is moving on with her life. She has two dogs, and a cat. She loves her pets, hell I love her pets! If I could grant magic wishes, I would wave a magic wand and she would be pregnant, and all her dreams would come true. But I can't. So I won't. I will be there for her when she needs to cry and rage against God for what he's cheated her out of. But I will be DAMNED if I rub it in her face that she's not a mom... WHY THE FUCK WOULD I WISH HER A HAPPY MOTHERS DAY?!?!? Why would I want to remind someone that that I love, they are missing out? It's offensive. It's abhorred. It's catty. She is an intelligent woman, she knows there is a difference. She wouldn't expect her husband to buy her a card, and sign it with the names of their pets, or buy her a bouquet of flowers in their honor. She very well may have looked at him strangely if he had. Bae is amazing, and dotes on her nieces and nephews. She loves them with everything she has, and they become... because of her love, her children.

I know another woman, who rejoices in her four legged family. I am okay with that, have your pets, love your pets, because if you don't, you shouldn't have them. But she touts that it is the same as being a real mommy. And people support her view. This seems like madness to me. She wants children someday, and shouldn't have any problem having them. She's just in a selfish point in her life, and she doesn't want to give up what she has in order to sacrifice for a human child. THIS IS WHERE MY ISSUE IS!!!! My issue isn't for those women who are struggling, and hurting from the desire to hold that warm bundle of flesh that can not function without them. My heart goes out to each and every one of you. I've been there. I know how hard it is to go to the mall and see a newborn and have to lock yourself in the stall of a public bathroom to cry. I know how hard it is to not hate your friend who had "an accident" and is now pregnant with a child she doesn't want or need. I wish upon wishes and hope upon hope that with every passing day, there are fewer of you who know this pain, and mote of you that know the sheer panic of hearing "Mommy, smell this."

I have the issue with women who are too selfish and too busy to have a child, yet they think they deserve the same accolades every woman who has DONE THE JOB deserves. It's not true. They don't deserve that. Maybe a pat on the head for taking in a stray, but c'mon now, you really think you deserve an orchid for putting food in a bowl and installing a doggy door??? You can hate me for this, but no. No, you don't. You don't deserve the macaroni necklaces, and the paper doily cards. You don't deserve dinner, or any other gifts bestowed on a mother for Mother's Day. And these are the women that diminish the meaning of Mother's Day, and it takes away from the women who deserve it. My mother worked 60 hours a week when I was growing up. She made sure there was dinner on the table and our house was clean. She listened to secrets and would set aside special time with each of us girls to let us know she was there for us. THAT is a mother. THAT is what deserves the accolades. Not some selfish lazy wench who has a few dogs. 

I am really trying not to rant, but I might be doing it anyways. I am okay with that. I was told yesterday that I am not humble in my opinions, and that there is no maybe about it, I am a bitch. I am okay with that too. I am not humble in my beliefs. I shouldn't have to be. No one should be. If you agree with me, GREAT. If you don't, WONDERFUL. I'm not trying to change your mind. I'm not telling you that EVERYONE HAS TO ABIDE BY MY BELIEF SYSTEM!! I am just voicing my frustrations in a dark room. Maybe someone will hear them, maybe not. One small voice in Ohio isn't going to change the world... and that's not even what I am trying to do. Say what you want, wish Happy Mother's Day to who ever you wish... that's your right. It's also my right to not agree with it. I want to take a moment to say that I hope that all mothers of human children had a wonderful day yesterday, this includes, adopted/foster/step mothers.... And to those struggling with conception, I pray this year was your last year struggling.

I hope I haven't lost too many with this post, but if I have... I wish you the best life you can have. I won't beg you to stay, but I am sorry to see you go.

*Big Sloppy Whett Kisses*

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

How I spent my day....

So, today I had an appointment to go looking for a bridal gown. No, we haven't set a date, we aren't even discussing a date except in terms of what year. I'd like to think 2015-2016 but could (in all honest possibilities) be as late as 2018-2019.

My outlook is this... the sooner I know WHAT I want, the better. And since my mom passed away a year ago last October, I knew starting this process was going to be a little painful.  I know she would want to see pictures of what I was picking, and discuss music, flowers, and all the things that go into planning a wedding. She would have amazingface ideas, and the sagest advice. Doing this without her seems cruel. I just wanted the worst over with. Now, Tiny is very very excited about everything. I asked her to go with me, just to see what her tastes were, spend some time, and I figure her enthusiasm and mothering will ease my pain during what should be an exciting and fun time for me. It worked. We had the best time. We laughed and joked. We found THE DRESS.

I had envisioned a tea length, off the shoulder, long sleeved number. Picture 1950's, satin cream colored class. I wanted my hair down with a wide net offset eyebrow blusher. I wanted a whole retro cool vibe, with an elegant modern twist to it. That is NOT the dress I walked out the store with. And it is NOT the style I ended up with. I can't believe I walked out of the store with a dress anyways, let alone the princess fluff thing that I fell in love with in the dress shop. I was only going to look around and get ideas. Not to actually BUY a dress. I would have never have picked out the dress I got. Sequins. It has fucking sequins! And seed pearls!! It's a ball gown. I look like a fucking Disney princess in it. I am shaking my head at myself. It is the exact opposite of what I would have normally thought I would have picked. But even thinking about that fluffy white skirt spinning out around me as I spun in the mirrored viewing room (yeah, I did that. Don't judge.) I smile. It is perfect. It makes me feel like a bride, not a girl trying on dresses. And the modern retro dress made me feel like a girl in a dress.

It fit perfect. When I came out of the dressing room, Tiny's eyes welled up. I called Scratchy at work to tell him that I'd found it. Not for anything other than a hope that he would say "keep an eye on it, if it gets down low enough, we might get it." My appointment was over. The consultant said she would put it on my wishlist. Tiny and I head back to my house. She kept telling me how perfect the dress was, and how beautiful it was. She told me that she was glad he'd found me. How she loves me. How she knows I will take care of her baby. Now, I don't know if you realize this, but having a mother tell you that she's happy her baby loves you, THAT is some big shit! Not to mention, Scratchy is an only child! I know how much it took for her to say that, and how bittersweet it has to be for her. Some day, I hope I will love the girl wearing Buh's ring enough to tell her that I am glad she's here. Anylaid, we were sitting here just bullshitting when he came home from work, picked me and Tiny up, and took us back to the store. Bought me my dress. Paid in full, and it is now hanging in my bedroom closet. He hasn't seen it. They bagged, then garment bagged the first hanging bag. He promised to stay out of it.

After we left the bridal shop, we had an appointment to look at a townhouse on the other side of the township we live in. We took Tiny with us, because it's between here and her house. We find the place fairly easy. And we wait for the realtor. We take our time, checking the place out. 2 bdrm, 1 1/2 bath, basement, dishwasher, gated patio, all affordable, all with more room than we have here. Buh can take the back half of the basement, leaving the front to laundry and freezer space. That leaves the second bedroom on the second floor empty. The master is a little on the small side, so I think we're going to put the dressers in there, and use it as a dressing room/ walk in closet. Before we left, he paid the deposit and set up an approximate date to sign the lease at the end of March. She said we get a week free at the end of the month to start moving things in slowly, and give us time to clean both places. We came home, told Buh about it. I cooked dinner wearing my new adorable apron. I made Italian Breaded chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy and corn. 

I'm excited. There's progress being made, and progress means we are moving forward with our lives. Nothing scares me more than stagnation. Progress means a future, bright and shining with all the hope only the future can give you. For so very long I have been afraid of the future. It seemed redundant, and sometimes lonely. It was stagnant. I was stuck. And now, with the love of someone shy and quiet, I look forward to sitting on a back porch, watching the Summer light fade, with my head on his shoulder. I'm excited to complain about my tiny kitchen and hear how I knew how small it was before we moved and how I said it was a fair trade for everything else off my list I was getting. I can't wait to invite Nan and her mom over for card night, while Buh and Gentle Giant play Xbox.

I am happy.


Tuesday, February 19, 2013

"Are you fucking serious??"

The past year has steadily amazed and intrigued me. Last year, at this time, I was avoiding any kind of pseudo serious relationship by hanging on to a crush that I was aware would never be compatible, even if it were to come together in fumbling attempts at intimacy. (this is in no way a slam against his sexual aptitude, just that there must be something more than physical attraction and a skewed sense of humor to have some semblance of a relationship.) I wasn't truly aware of my complete and total self sabotage until I brazenly laid my confusion out for examination. This was only because I was pushed by a "religious experience" to do so. After receiving a polite refusal of my affection, my heart jumped and I laughed! Then I realized... I shouldn't be this happy at being shot down. But I was. The friendship suffered a bit, and life has taken off for both of us, but he is still my friend, and we just pretend it never happened. I love him extra for that. The only thing that makes sense to me, as to why I was so happy, was that I knew it was wrong. I just wanted something I knew wasn't going to work. If you go in with it going to fall apart, it's not such a shock when it does.

I have moved twice since last year, trying desperately to make each place home, when it could never be. There was nothing wrong with those homes, not entirely. Sissy B's was warm and loving and amazing... but it was her home, not mine. My dad's house was beautiful, spacious and inviting.... but chaos and back biting kept it from being what I needed. Then in with one of my best guy friends... Beta. (Who will, from here on out be known as Scratchy. Because I prefer it, I don't demand it.)

Scratchy didn't care that within one weekend of being here I had rearranged every cupboard in the kitchen, and was writing up a list of things that this apartment needed. (How to single guys live off of such meager stuff?? I don't get it. Why wouldn't you have a mandolin to julienne your cabbage for slaw instead of cutting it by hand?) He just went to the store and got what I needed. It was a bit bumpy in the beginning, as I was the first woman he'd lived with aside from his amazing mom (who's name will be Tiny), so we needed to find a comfortable routine that was compromise as much as it was eye rolling and muttered curses. I will give him a boat load of credit. I am not an easy woman to please, and when I would get pissed at something he said or did, he would try his best to rectify and understand the situation. I do my best not to give him a reason to get mad at me, but when I have, he treats me like a grown up and talks to me about it. Almost all the time I understand his points, apologize and explain my actions, and I do what I can to not let it happen again.

Scratchy has always been a quiet, kind of backwards guy. I've known for quite some time that he's been interested in me, at least sexually, It's hard to spend most of your time with a girl who obsesses about sex as much as a teen aged boy, speaks candidly and openly about personal fetishes and fantasies, and not really want to know if she is as much of a freak as she seems. But he never really made any move to see if he could make it happen. I'd dropped some major hints, but typical to the gender, he missed them. It seemed to take forever but finally it happened.

Friday nights, we stay in, watch tv and hang out together. Occasionally on a Saturday we will go out with a few of his friends to a sports bar. We live a subdued, and boring social life. The most exciting thing I have going on in my life is when I get him to try a new recipe (I am a pintrest junkie... I admit it. I should go to meetings.) And in the midst of all this mundane life, in the throes of this quiet contentment, it hit me. A real one. Not a pseudo relationship where we only see each other on dates. We see each other in real life. We don't even go out to dinner once a week. (Sometimes we do, but it's not uncommon for me to cook every night.) On the heels of that revelation, another more staggering knocked the wind out of me.

I was in love with him.


How the hell did this happen?!?!? No! This isn't right! What if he doesn't love me? Worse yet, what if he does?? Shit! Shit shit shit shit. This is going to hurt so bad. This isn't going to be good at all. Someone is going to hurt, and it's going to make me hurt, and I am so tired of hurting. Maybe I am wrong... maybe I am not in love. Maybe I am just being silly. That's it... I am confused again. But the thought of him politely rejecting me, of him turning his back on the only thing of value I have, made me desolate. So I went at it like a boy. I'd treated it all very offhandedly. He must have seen through it. Damn his keen eye. He informed me that he was aware of the situation between us, but he wouldn't discuss it because he didn't want to freak me out worse. He let me come to the idea as slow as I needed.

I won't say it's been easy. I've had second thoughts and moments of paralyzing fear. He knows, and he's never pushed... never gotten bent about my sometimes incapacitating past. Patient and caring, trying his damnedest to fix every hurt ever inflicted. Fuck if that didn't make me fall harder faster. All he ever wants is to see me smile, and would juggle flashing dildos to make it happen. It is an adjustment, being with someone who is happy just sitting next to me on the couch with his hand on my thigh.

Christmas was an interesting compromise of old traditions and new ones made. New Years was a quiet affair with Nan and Gentle Giant, Buh and Lil Bit. Super Bowl Sunday was spent at Ass's with him, Lois (Ass's girlfriend), and a few other friends. I consider holiday season over. But Scratchy, despite himself, is a traditional romantic at heart. On Valentine's Day, after dinner he took me out and bought me a chest freezer. Yeah, I got a card, a big box of my favorite chocolates, and a rose, but I.GOT.A.MAJOR.APPLIANCE. A major appliance that I had lusted after for years. My attached female friends spent the day posting about the flowers, candy, and jewelry they had got. And I was smirking to myself at how I got the better deal. And then he made plans to whisk me away for an night in a beautiful jacuzzi suite. The package was dinner (at my favorite steakhouse of all time), and a movie, included in the price of the room for a very awesome price. Check in Saturday at 3.

Saturday morning, I drag myself out of bed earlier than normal so I can freeze the family packs of pork chops, pork roasts, chicken breasts and ground beef that he had brought home the night before.Scratchy claimed he had to go finish buying my presents. 'Oh and by the way, what are your favorite candle scents?'  I tell him my top two. I smile at him he kisses me and leaves. I get everything I need to get done, done. He sends me a picture of two candles, and tells me he'll be home shortly. I start packing an over night bag. I pack all the necessary accoutrements one must take on a romantic getaway, I pack toiletries and clothing. We were going to get ready for dinner at the hotel, so I had to take all my makeup and hair stuff. Scratchy came home, and was trying to get his stuff rounded up. He made the remark that he was sweating like a pig. I laughed, and told him there was no reason to be nervous, it's not like we'd never had sex before. He chuckled, and threw the last of his stuff in the bags.

We get to the hotel and marvel at how nice it is, how big the tub is, blah blah. He rushes me into the shower with the demand that I make sure it's safe when I am ready to come out. I begrudgingly complied. Showered, and dressed, I stood asking if I could come out until permission was given. When I came out of the bathroom, the rest of the suite had been lit softly with a handful of fragrant candles, grouped mostly around the tub. There were white fabric rose petals sprinkled all across the king sized bed, and on the floor surrounding the bed. It was the cutest thing. I'd never had anyone do anything that traditionally romantic just for me. I couldn't do anything but grin. I kissed him, and after being prodded, went and finished my makeup and hair so we could go to dinner.

The restaurant has a wait of an hour and a half. It's worth it, we waited. His best friend, Mr. Who, texted him during dinner. Just to give him a hard time, I point out that I wasn't allowed to text anyone, but he was texting. He laughed and said 'Maybe if you're good, I'll let you text later.' We laughed.

After dinner we went back to the room, and decided we were going to play a few hands of cards. (I insisted. I needed time for a wardrobe change, if you know what I mean.) I change into a pair of black yoga shorts and a tshirt... and black thigh high socks that were detailed up the back with a silver zipper design, and a hot pink Playboy Bunny above the knee. He smiled like the devil himself when he saw the socks. I told him he wasn't allowed to touch me while we were playing cards. And let me tell you, I had to scold him for breaking the rule a few times, but nothing too serious. Again, his phone chirped, Mr. Who had said something funny enough to make Scratchy laugh out loud. He sent a reply and picked his cards back up. I make another comment about him texting and me not, because I knew Mr Who wouldn't have bugged us without a reason, so I can safely rib Scratchy about it. He told me that I would soon enough know what was going on, and just to be patient. I think we were five hands in when I became disenchanted with the game. I got up to go to the bathroom, and told him I was ready to quit, insinuating heavily that I was ready for the jacuzzi.

He told me to stay in the bathroom until he said I could come back out. Figuring he was relighting the candles, to make the transition into that beautiful tub even more seamless, I stood in the bathroom until allowed to return to the main room. And as I suspected, all the candles had been relit and he was standing in the middle of the room. I smiled as I walked by and figured, why not get dirty before we take our bath, and started to crawl up on the bed. But he stopped me. Told me to stand next to the bed and close my eyes. I had one more surprise.

"Keep your eyes closed, do you have your eyes closed?"

"Yes." What the hell is he doing? He's walking away. Where the hell is he going?

And then he did it. My whole world slid out of tilt when I opened my eyes. I didn't even see the glinting rock in the red box that he had lifted up to me. I only registered that he was lower than me, HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HE'S ON ONE KNEE!! I lost the filter on my mouth the moment I realized he was on one knee. I was in shock, I couldn't help it, I incredulously asked...

"Are you fucking serious??" No malice, just utter confusion, and disbelief.

Honestly, I couldn't tell you what he said after he smiled and said yes. I don't know if he asked me to be his wife, or if he asked me to marry him. I don't know if he went on to tell me he loved me, or if he said my name when he asked me. I was too busy trying to memorize every major detail about this moment. The way he smiled when he spoke, how gently he held my hand, how my heart was beating so loud and so fast. I don't even know if I breathed. I know I nodded, or said yes. It seems to me, I screamed it, but in reality I probably choked it out. Arms wrapped and kisses deep and shuddering. Wait, wait... look at the ring, do you like it? I didn't care what the ring looked like, he bought it because he wants to be with me forever. He bought me a ring. I just wanted to kiss him again.

He made me stop. I think he needed to know that I liked the ring. We'd never discussed anything about styles, or metals, or even sizes. He walked into it blind. I flicked on the light and sat down on the edge of the bed. He proudly informed me that it was a three quarter ct, that the band was white gold, and the cut was called a brilliant cut. He said I told him that you were a simpler kind of person, nothing flashy, nothing too bling bling. I thought this one was good because it was just a solitaire, just basic, but beautiful.  He went on to tell me that it probably wouldn't fit, we'd have to get it sized. They had shown him the biggest sized rings they had on the floor, in his price range. As I pulled the ring out of the box, I asked what size it was. Seven? Must be, because it fits.

It was too late to tell most people, although, Mr Who had stated he was not going to bed until he got an answer as to what I'd said, got a text almost immediately. I sent out a few texts, telling those I am closest to. I even texted my dad, whom I haven't spoken to since moving out of the house. At 7:30 Sunday morning, Scratchy called Tiny and asked her if she would be home for awhile, that we were going to stop by. By 9 am we were sitting in his mom's living room. She took the news with hoots and hugs. And some gentle pressure to provide her with a grandchild. Which isn't any different than any other time I talk to her. We just laugh her off. From there we went to Scratchy's dad's and told him. He congratulated us and asked about babies. We laughed it off.

I am still in a state of shock. Every time the light catches the stone I am in awe of how much my life has changed in this past year. How I have gone from being lost, to having a home. We haven't set a date, we aren't going to rush things too much. I don't think it's become real enough for me to think about setting a date.

I wanted to tell you all, I wanted you to be happy with me. I hope everything is going as good for you, as it is for me. Now, I have to fill up my ice water and make sure thee is enough sweet tea for Scratchy to have something to drink when he wakes up... Even tho he should be drinking his pineapple juice first thing so it's done for the day....

The Slut