It was agreed that we will work on the communication issues. I have informed him that I have faith in us, but if the methods we've decided on do not work, I will need time alone.

A few days ago I dreamed I was hunting for an old story of mine through myriad websites and film clips and a large convention. I had it narrowed down to an old laptop hard drive that had been retrofitted with a touch screen. As I banged on the touchscreen trying to access a teeny tiny hyperlink, my Maternal Unit appeared and asked why I was bothering with all of this work when it wouldn't solve anything.

"It's my story and I want it back!" I snapped.

I have since realized the dream is also where I am in this relationship. I want my life back. But I don't want my life without SLB back. I want a return to the months where we were having fun and enjoying each other's company without the arguments on semantics and "objective" versus "subjective". I'm willing to work to get there, as long as he is willing to work with me.

We shall see.

But anyway.

Today is Saturday. We will be having D&D tonight, playing SLB's game. Last time I brought my Nook and didn't pay much attention to the game. I keep reminding myself to bring it home and I keep forgetting. I know why I keep forgetting. Part of it is I keep it in a drawer, so it's not right in my face to remind me to take it home. The rest of it is that I've made the mental association that it is a work related object. I use it at work, so it stays at work. On any given day these two...mental constructs will trade off being The Reason.

I asked what the plan was and SLB said it was his game.

"Oh. I forgot my Nook again." I said and went back to crocheting.

"Why? How?" SLB asks.

"I keep forgetting because I now see it as a work related item," I explained.

"It's NOT a work related thing! It is a thing!" SLB protests and then chants "Not a work thing, not a work thing, it's a thing, it's a thing, it's a thing you need" about five times. I ignore this because it's not helping me. The Nook is at work, I'm not going to get it given I've already driven over three hours today going to and from Ithaca, I will have to figure out something else.

"This is what really pisses me off about you, your passive-aggressive bullshit. You make these negative statements 'Damn, X is not where I need it to be' or whatever and then you turn apathetic to the entire situation instead of doing something about it. A meteor could land on you and you would go 'Meh'!" SLB says, and proceeds to repeat himself about four times. I wait for a chance to explain, he won't give it to me.

"Can I tell you what's actually going on in my head instead of you postulating what you THINK is going on in my head?" I ask.

"No! This is not a discussion. This is me telling you how frustrating your behavior is to me. Bad things happen to you and you don't give a shit." I go back to my crocheting. He finally shuts up.

"Stop taking my spoons," I say.

"Keep a hold of them!" He snaps back.

Clearly, nothing was going to come from this discussion except hurt feelings. He had no interest in "why", even though he asked it and his "help" was, well, childish. Much later conversations reveal my apathy for negative things happening to me by me and my emotional reactions to negative INTERPERSONAL things happening to me and someone else is a source of confusion and frustration. But he still doesn't want to know "why". He thought he was being kind by telling me he didn't want to know and didn't need to know. I informed him I have a Fix It hat too and if my behavior is confusing and frustrating, explaining why I follow these behaviors should "fix" the confusion. Being told he doesn't want his confusion or frustration "fixed" also hurts. It's slamming the door on communication, which was the crux of the entire bloody thing. We don't communicate well. I want to learn how to communicate better with HIM and I offered methods that I felt would help ME understand and better explain myself to HIM. He doesn't think any of my methods would work because he saw it as either impossible on his part or simply setting ourselves up for inevitable fighting. He feels I'm broken and his solution was to stop asking questions entirely.

*HEADDESK*

I am very tired and I know this is effecting my judgement and emotional state. I also need to eat, but the hurt has worked its usual dark magic and the thought of food is unappealing. After he leaves for his game, I'll send the children to their rooms, watch "No Reservations" and eat something. I don't feel I've accomplished much in the last two hours of conversation, other then if he doesn't use the words "you", "like" or "think" in a question, he's looking for a strictly objective answer. I MIGHT remember that.

Which of these two sentences do you agree with?

Perspective is changeable through experiences, but not by emotions directly. Emotions color experiences which in turn can change perspective.

Emotions can color experiences AND directly affect perspective.

We are now taking polls about which view is "correct". Please chime in and let us know what you think!

No, really! It would be a really big help if I can get a sizable sample in here.

So that was my brave time. I no longer have anything to prove about going in the lake. Give me a floatie and I'll hang out and not feel lonely.

The food was excellent. We had only brought alcohol, as this is a very wet weekend (hahaha). There was a most excellent pasta salad with various veggies, pulled pork, barbecue pulled chicken, chicken speedies, a variety of cakes, cupcakes and muffins, other creamy salads, tomato and cucumber salad, hot dogs and hamburgers and so on. Food was prepared and set out in waves, so I grazed my way through Saturday and most of Sunday. By Sunday night over half the guests were gone, so pizza was brought in. It was good pizza. Today the last of us went out for lunch at a nice hole in the wall in Deposit called Koo Koose (I think). It's a bar with an excellent grill menu and a certified chef in the kitchen. I had the peasant soup, which was kale, potatoes and sausage in a minestrone-type base. It was delicious and the grilled cheese came on excellent bread.

The drinking, well. I had considered getting drunk Saturday night, but then I was reminded of the barge ride after dark, so I nixed that plan. Sunday night I decided I would share in the Jeigermeister (sp? *shrug*) shots, had one, chased it with water and that was it. I fire-tended while SNB and C went out on the barge again. By the time they got back I was tired and SNB was tired. As the guest list had dropped from roughly 50 to 10, we were allowed to sleep inside on a futon instead of in our tent. I didn't mind either way, SNB wasn't happy with how the air mattress had deflated during Saturday night, so we went with the futon. SNB's guess is that the shop vac that inflated the mattress didn't do a good job the first time. We had brought our Rainbow R2 unit, but it was left in the car when the shop vac was offered. Next time, we'll either bring the Rainbow R2 or I'll buy an air pump.

Over the course of the weekend I had a bottle of apple ale, six-seven jello shots, a half-shot of Jeiger, a few swigs of cranberry juice and vodka, and a brandy with fruit juice. All was consumed over the course of hours, with the exception of two jello shots and the Jeiger. I paced myself so well I only got the numb tongue effect after the Jeiger and that faded fairly quickly. Unlike a good amount of the guests, I stayed off the alcohol while on the lake, with the exception of the two swigs of cranberry vodka juice. I also wasn't pounding back bottle and/or can after bottle and/or can of beer, or knocking back jello shots every ten minutes. I had put aside a hard lemonade Sunday afternoon, but I got bored watching the MtG game and went inside for a nap. When I woke up, the bottle was gone, so I shrugged it off.

I guess it's just one more reminder of how this is not my crowd and likely will never be my crowd. While I would like to get wasted again, I fall asleep so quickly it almost seems pointless. I can count on one hand the times I've been as drunk as some of the other guests and I started in my mid twenties. Oh well. The important thing is having a good time. I can have a good time without the alcohol, or with a small amount over a period of time and if I get bored, I can nap or find a book to read.

The one disappointment was the lack of gaming. We had all our people there, but there were so many other gamers that MtG took front and center. That way people wouldn't feel left out. There was a certain logic to that, as many games of MtG were played over the course of the weekend. I didn't feel left out, just bored Sunday night and this morning. However, I was looking forward to killing goblins and maybe getting that stupid Bard resurrected.

All in all, I'd call it a good weekend. I had fun, I faced a phobia and found a way to work with it, and I got to meet a few interesting kids. Yes. Kids. Barely over 21, some of them and a few did not believe I was 35. *sigh*

SNB called during break.

His reasoning is this: Labor rates for service techs; electricians, plumbers, mechanics, etc, are "bullshit" because they have a captive market, they know it, and they bilk everyone.

I explained to him the company I'm using has never screwed me over, has always been honest, and enjoys a good reputation. Mama A uses them exclusively. He said he's glad to hear this, but that doesn't change his reasoning. For him it's an ethical issue. I pointed out that ethics and economics go hand in hand. He agreed that they CAN, but so many techs are in it for the quick buck, so every tech is suspect, every labor rate is bullshit and he hates that this is the world we live in.

He has apologized and said he would try to keep his temper under control. He's not going to change his mind, his attitude or his reasoning.

*sigh*

I don't think this is a break up issue, but I'm already tired of it. What should I do?

Or, How a Catholic Wedding Fucked Queenie Up.

Do I have your attention now? Good.

SNB cousin's wedding this afternoon. Said cousin is a Marine. Good for him, says I. I walk into the church with shields up, as I don't want to get overwhelmed by the energies churches tend to collect.

Having my shields up did nothing for the flashbacks. Flashbacks to my first wedding, in a Catholic church, with two priests as the ex was raised Byzantine and I was raised Roman and yes, there's enough of a difference to technically require papal approval, but none of us had contacts in Rome, so we went with it. Flashbacks to sitting on the stairs waiting to be announced and asking "Do you think we can make this?" and having him say "Yes." and knowing, knowing deep in my heart that this was a Bad Decision and we weren't going to make it. Self fulfilling prophecy? Probably. I know now at 35 that 20 year old me was marrying to get away from the Maternal Unit, especially since both parents said I couldn't move to Denver without a husband to "watch out for me".

...

Yeah.

So I spend almost the entire ceremony weeping quiet tears and occasionally digging for tissues (I came prepared) and gripping my coat with white knuckles to keep from screaming at the deacon to SHUT UP ALREADY about the Obligation to Have Children and how Humility Is Important, so Put Each Other First. I ended up begging True Blue Me to help and she did. She held my screaming 22 year old self and soothed her and let her cry tears of anger and bitterness. I cried tears of anger and bitterness. SNB's mother, hereafter known as Rose, asked me during the Exchange of Peace if I was okay. I shook my head. SNB asked me a minute or two later if there was anything he could do.

"It's perfectly acceptable to cry at weddings," I said. "They don't need to know why."

SNB went up for Communion. I was a little offended, until he whispered that he was hungry and that was the only reason he went up. I managed to choke back a snort.

After the ceremony there was a 2 hour + gap until the reception. SNB and I stood outside for a few minutes, wondering what to do. I was hungry, he was hungry, but he didn't want to be seen as rude by leaving before anyone else.

"Your girlfriend had an emotional meltdown during the wedding. I think you're justified," I said. That was enough to convince him, so I waited while he made his rounds and chatted a bit with his Aunt M.

This Aunt M. lost a fiance to a heart attack 13 years ago, so she has a pretty good understanding of my position as a widow. She made the offer to talk and I took her up on it a little before we left. I admitted to being an Ex Catholic. When she asked what I was now, I said I'd tell her later.

SNB and I went for Chinese. I explained why I had the Beautiful Breakdown and the unexpected emotional triggers. He said he understood why it would be coming out now, 14 years later. I understand. I put that whole debacle behind me as a Life Lesson Learned and didn't deal with the emotional aspect because I was a single mother. I had to take care of IDK. I cried more over Wolf, but that's not surprising. I love Wolf. I care for my ex, as one might care for a friend one has outgrown. I don't wish him ill, I wish him well. I hope he's made something of his life.

After Chinese we still had over a half hour to kill, so we sat in the buffet parking lot, listening to jazz while I read and he played on my phone. (^_^)

The reception was long, noisy and mildly ridiculous. Another open bar. *sigh* I don't drink much, as you all know. This is the second wedding in four months with an open bar and I feel overwhelmed because everyone is having three drinks to my one and not showing it. WTF?

The DJ looked like Gene Simmons. I was not the only one to think that, one of SNB's sisters agreed with me. I'm going to call them Engaged and Waitress to distinguish them. Engaged is getting married a year from October. Waitress is working at Persay down in the City as front staff. She graduated from the Culinary Institute, but found out she prefers the floor. Good for her. Waitress is loud and a little obnoxious. Engaged is calmer. We were seated with them and another set of cousins, one of whom is going through some serious medical issues. There was much talk of surgeries, I think his wife was getting a little sick of it. Engaged's fiance sympathized with me about getting used to the family. I explained to the sisters that I have a small appetite, so don't be surprised if I leave half my dinner on my plate, which is what happened. Waitress and I switched plates, as she had ordered the salmon while I had ordered the prime rib. I liked the prime rib better, the salmon was a little dry.

This whole time, I was trying to keep a lid on the anger and bitterness that had been triggered. This is a party, after all, for a very lovely couple. My control almost slipped when another relative came over and called me out for not smiling.

"You must not be having a good time, unless you're a bitch. Are you a bitch?" He asks from across the table.

"I can be if you want me to be," I snapped back. SNB tried to explain that I'm not a drinker by saying I wasn't Italian.

"Are you Irish?" Prick asks.

"I'm a mutt and I'm a widow," I answered. I had to say it three times because he couldn't hear me. He looked a trifle chagrined.

A little while later Prick wanders over again, catches my eye and says "Hey, if you weren't such a prude, I'd give you a kiss." And he chucks a Hershey's Kiss at me. (they were the table favors) It bounced off my shoulder and onto the floor. I picked it up and chucked it back at him.

"Your kisses taste like plastic," I said, loud and clear.

"Oh! My one feeling has been hurt! SNB, your girlfriend says my kisses taste like plastic. You like my kisses, right?" And he pitches the Kiss at SNB. SNB held up his steak knife.

"You do realize they equipped me with a sharp knife, right?" It devolved from there into male posturing that put my teeth on edge. Fortunately, Aunt M came up and asked if I needed some air.

"Yes, please."

Outside I explained about Prick and was informed that he has always been that way, yes it was out of line, but he really doesn't mean it maliciously. I refrained from calling shenanigans. Aunt M then told me about her dead fiance and how angry she was with God for taking him away and how now, 13 years later, she has come to terms with it and her new boyfriend she loves very much and his children call her Mom, which is amazing to her as she's never had children of her own. She also informed me that she's certain deep down within my heart there's still a good little Catholic. I didn't laugh in her face, which was good because she followed it up with how good I've been for SNB and she can see a difference in him that's positive and she hopes and prays I stick around. When she stopped talking I gave her a long hug, thanked her and assured her I knew she spoke the truth.

I am very glad I held my tongue about my beliefs. If she's the most progressive of that generation, I'm not saying a damned word. Spangly Elephant will have to be subtle in the Wiccan aspects.

After our talk I felt a little better. SNB had come to check on me about halfway through the conversation and he took me aside and asked that I promise him I don't process the anger and bitterness alone. I informed him I didn't know when or how the processing would take place and he really didn't need to see it. He insisted he be there so I wouldn't be alone.

That was very sweet of him, but knowing me, I'll be crying many more angry, bitter tears alone in my room while he's at work.

By this time the dancing was in full swing. I didn't feel like it, so I put on the yellow plastic fedora I had been given, (someone was passing around green bowlers and found me and said I needed one and I said "If I'm wearing a hat, it must be a fedora." and had to explain to the person that bowlers are NOT fedoras. One of the cousins pulled a trade for me.) stood and watched, finally able to smirk a little. I did make it to actual smiles by the time SNB and I got on the dance floor.

On the drinking note, I have determined that Sutter Home SUCKS as a wine company and Malibu Bay Breezes are a good cocktail for me.

I am a little sorry that I was so grumpy during the family pictures Rose insisted I be a part of. I didn't do my signature peace sign, I wasn't comfortable and the pictures felt a little too formal. There are at least three pictures of SNB and I floating around somewhere and I'm not holding my fingers up in any of them. I made up for it at the end of the night.

(picture to follow once Gmail actually finishes talking to my Iphone)

SNB and I got a few dances in before we called it a night. I wore his suit coat out to the coat check and replaced it with my black wool. As we were leaving Prick showed up. I gave him a hug and informed him I bite. I was sorely tempted to sink fangs in that thick neck and pull away a chunk of flesh, but I refrained. He'd probably consider it a good time, at least until he started bleeding.

SNB had messages from his friends regarding his RP game, which I am not a part of. As it wasn't even 10 pm, I said he could go if he wanted. He did help me with my purple dress zipper, which is a pain. BTW, Chezzie? The left shoulder strap, the thick one that hangs over, has separated along the seam over halfway. I'm nervous about stitching up a pleated section like that, could I please have some pointers in May? Thanks!

All in all, it wasn't a bad time. It's a loud family, which I was warned about, but it's still taking some getting used to. I have once again been a positive influence in a man's life, it seems to be my gift. Here's hoping he doesn't start having baby envy from all the other cousins who are breeding. I was done at 30.

This was the Last Hurrah for his aunt and uncle re: St. Patrick's Day. The food was good, as always. I sampled some homemade wine, it was very good. I was very careful. (^_^)

Visited with SNB's mom for a while. It started out asking about his sister's wedding and progressed to religion. I'm not sure how, but SNB informs me it's what she does.

Anyhew, I was honest about being an ex-Catholic, but I didn't say I was a Witch. I explained my current studies of Hinduism and Shintoism and how I need a Sacred Feminine and women in leading religious roles. She was fortunate that her priest supported her decision to annul her marriage while the ones I knew shook their heads and said "We do not approve." That really was the final nail for that particular coffin. I got the impression that while she didn't really approve, she respected my point of view. Which is more then I ever got from MY mother.

SNB informs me a few members of the older generations were twigging him a little about "his future wife". I am amused.

The wine is now disagreeing with me. I need chamomile tea.

So my lease is up this October and I'm debating what to do. Do I keep Ripley and find a way to pay the ginormous balloon payment car dealers stick leased cars with, or do I trade her in on another lease, or do I trade her in and buy something like a Maxima or an Altima?

I haven't decided yet. I would prefer to own a car outright, but it depends on the costs.

Today I took her in for service. As I noticed she was just over 30k, I asked for that service to be done, along with tire rotation.

"Sure, it'll be about 3 hours," says the very nice tech.

"Huh. Okay, don't do a half-assed job," says SNB.

"Right-o!" We walk out to Sam's, as I needed to pick up my script, and I apologized for not knowing the wait time. SNB shrugs, as there's nothing we can really do about it, but he's ADD, so we need to find something to keep him from being bored.

(I, on the other hand, can happily sit for 3 hours in a waiting room playing on my phone, watching television and/or reading magazines.)

We wander Barnes & Nobles for about an hour.half, then head over to Taco Bell for lunch, then head back to the dealer. He calls us as we're getting close and is ready with the bill when we arrive.

$255 for 2.3 hours of service, oil, air & cabin air filter, new battery for my key fob, all fluids changed and/or topped off, brakes checked and adjusted and oh, by the way, your rear wheels were bent, so we fixed those and made sure your alignment was correct and we didn't charge you for that.

"Cool!" says I and I pay the bill. We end up cooling our heels for another 15 minutes while they wash Ripley, part of the service. Very Nice Tech calls SNB my husband and I chuckle as I correct him.

"I'm sorry, you act like a married couple!" He says. We thank him, shake hands and part ways.

SNB asks to see the bill as we drive home.

He is not happy.

Turns out he knows how to change oil and such, so to spend that much money for labor time (the bulk of the cost) is obscene and ridiculous and how can you justify paying this when his family had 3 cars growing up and they NEVER serviced anything until something blew up or fell apart.

"I have no problem paying labor time to people who are qualified to do the job," I explain.

He is not happy with me.

I realize I draw a lot of experience about cars from my former job, which were Mercedes and Audis and BMWs, much more expensive cars then my little Sentra. I also know what can happen to a car engine that's not properly serviced. No, really. It WILL come back to bite you in the butt. I don't care WHAT car you drive, changing fluids is REQUIRED MAINTENANCE. If you want to do it yourself, fine. Save that hundred or so now, you're gonna need it later.

I also realize I'm not making $14/hour anymore, but that doesn't mean I'm going to skimp on my vehicle. I NEED my car.

I am waiting to see if this becomes an issue.

Had an interesting conversation with SNB regarding relationships. I got the distinct impression he hasn't had one last more then six months and as such, he's skeptical of us, despite the obvious love.

Maybe I'm naive, but I've been a wife twice, a girlfriend twice, and a romantic interest with or without sex...well, I'd say twice, but an argument could be made for three times, all before him. All of those are in the 6-18 month range, with Wolf being the "stayer" of 7 years. I can kind-of tell when things are going south, y'know?

So, no, I don't know EXACTLY how a girlfriend acts or behaves. All I can do is be myself and show that what we have will last longer then six months and, if the gods are kind, a hell of a lot longer then seven years. We've already discussed the killswitches, as it were, and he's let slip a few things that made me go "Hmmmm" and vice versa. (My favorite quote of his; "How is it that you have the fashion sense of a woman AND a man balanced so well inside you?!" I have since agreed to wear skirts for HIS formal occasions and he will deal with me wearing a nice pantsuit on MY occasions, especially if it's cold, but I still haven't talked him into the Man in Black/Inigo Montoya Halloween costumes, which I think we'd totally ROCK)

Frankly, I'm a little surprised he's still here.

*shrug*

What will be, will be.

I got to meet SNB's bestest best friend and his girlfriend last Friday night for a belated Halloween party. Our lovely host and hostess were dressed as Harry Potter and Hedwig and I wish I had gotten pictures of them. Here's me and mine.

( The Umbrella Corporation couldn't get the Most Interesting Man in the World, so they sent me out with the Second. )

You can't see the snifty Umbrella logo on my breast pocket. SNB drew it two hours before we left. I had dinner in my costume, he waited until we were at the party before changing. I rock the Sexy Scientist With Questionable Morals.