I'm jonesin' like a crack head

With a title like that, how can this story be anything but riveting, right?  I am coming to the realization that I may indeed have a problem. 

I have been crocheting on a ridiculously large baby blanket for a friend during all my spare time - listening to the governor speak at a conference last week, meetings, and of course... every evening when I sit down.  Oh yes, and on all these delightful snow days we've been getting.  Today being one of them. 

Last night I was crocheting and Wesley came over to be a pain and tickle my feet.  In the ensuing battle and me slumping down in the recliner in an attempt to kick him in the face (don't judge, I didn't have any weapons close by) I managed to lose my only crochet needle in the depths of the black hole that is the recliner.  After attempting to retrieve it for 30+ minutes and then sulking for the next 12 hours, Wesley pointed out that I may have an addiction to crocheting and I may have to look into other indoor hobbies. 

Instead, I am thinking about driving the 60 miles in semi-blizzard conditions to the nearest craft shop in order to satisfy my cravings instead.  And yes, I realize this is not healthy.  And yes, this is the last time I will ever lose my last crochet needle again! 

I am not taking responsibility for the low quality of this post.  If I had a crochet needle in my hand I wouldn't have been forced to type anything at all! 

Kiss of Death

I thought with this being Valentine's Day and all, we'd stick with the lovey-dovey theme, right?  Sounds rather apropos to me.  Actually, I don't know that I'd file this story under 'lovey-dovey', but it does involve a kiss.  That's enough of a connection to justify it as a Valentine's Day story in my book.

I went home to Mom and Dad's last weekend and it was great.  We went to church Sunday morning a bit early as Mom was singing in the choir.  It was a fairly nice morning so Dad and I elected to stand outside next to the pickup while he finished his coffee.  It gave me a chance to watch as folks pulled in the parking lot and recognize lots of familiar faces.

I especially took notice when a large sedan pulled in and a tiny, ball-of-fire older woman stepped out.  As she exited her vehicle she took the time to do a 360 sweep of the entire parking lot and scan for potential victims.  I mean, she took time to scan for people to wave at.  She spotted me standing 30 yards away and, deciding I was too distant a target, settled on waving so hard I thought she might dislocate her shoulder.  Escape #1 of mine was a complete success.

During the church service Mom, Dad and I sat in a pew towards the back of the church, far from the center aisle.  Thankfully, a nice couple came in and sat in the pew with us, effectively blocking a clear path from me to the center aisle.  (Cue evil scientist laugh.  My plan is working, mwahahahaha!)

At the end of church we are dismissed from the front of the church to the back.  Probably as an incentive for more people to sit closer to the front, but my family never bought into that.  We were patiently sitting and waiting for our turn to be dismissed when the tiny, ball-of-fire Marge* and her husband stood up and prepared to leave from their pew several rows in front of us.

I leaned over and whispered to my dad, "Watch this.  She can't get to me.  Mwahahahaha."  As Marge made her way towards our pew she spotted me - a victim child she hadn't seen in quite a while.  We watched as she frantically scanned the area and saw that I was effectively boxed in by people, meaning she was also effectively boxed out from accessing me.  We settled on a friendly wave and smile.  Escape #2 of mine was a complete success.

After church we made our way to the hallway and I got the chance to see several folks I hadn't seen in quite a while.  It was fun, and the fact that I have a fetus the size of an orange this week made me more of a commodity as folks came up to see my ever expanding midsection.  Most of Mom and Dad's friends already knew our news so the element of surprise wasn't there, which did not hurt my feelings in the least.

We were almost ready to leave when our friend Marge strolled up.  I gave her a hug and listened to the standard, "Oh my goodness Sweetheart, you're looking so good these days, I can't believe you're growing up so quick...."  I thought I was going to be safe.

And then it happened.

I was wearing a larger black jacket that day which helped to camouflage most of any sort of belly unless you knew one was supposed to be there.  Marge gave me (what I thought was) one last little hug and said, "Oh, Sweetheart, your just so skinny!  How do you stay so thin?!"  (Totally blowing smoke up my skirt, by the way.) 

My mom opened her big mouth with a twinkle of evil no mother should ever possess in her eyes.  "Anna's belly is getting bigger.  She's going to have a baby!"

"Oh, congratulations honey!" she shrieked as tiny little ball-of-fire Marge grew springs under her red pumps and that little 4'11" lady jumped up and planted a huge, fire engine red kiss of stay-forever lipstick on my 5'7" cheek.  Escape #3 was not as successful. 

And thus my mother sealed her destiny to end up in a crappy nursing home forever. 

Birthday Girl

Big day at our house today.  Loopie is turning three.  THREE.  Where does the time go?  (And yes, I realize that recognizing this event does qualify us as those dog people.) 

When I realized this morning that it was her birthday, I started thinking back on how much our life has changed in these three years.  It took me back to the time that Wesley and I almost got divorced.  Yep, that's right, I can take any sentimental moment and crush it with a heavy dose of reality and assorted downers. 

Think back to all those lovey-dovey high school and college relationships when the significant other could do no wrong and you only saw stars in your eyes when you lovingly and affectionately gazed at them. 

Remember that story from a few months back when I said we were on the 'accelerated program' regarding brutal honesty in our relationship? 



It was my last semester of college and I was coming home for spring break in late March.  We had a late season blizzard come through that week when I was trying to drive back to Kansas and see my beloved, my do-no-wrong, say-no-wrong love of my life.  Earlier that week I had also gotten the call that my puppy had finally reached the weaning age and was ready to be picked up that week.  I thought about it long and hard (yeah, right) and decided that Wesley could wait.  I needed to drive an extra two hours north in a blizzard and pick up this adorable little ball of blue heeler fur. 

I called my do-no-wrong, say-no-wrong love of my life to let him know of my genius plans to pick up the pup before I came to see him.  I remember his loving reply to me on the phone that day. 

"If you are stupid enough to drive up there and pick up a damn dog you can just keep driving and don't bother stopping here again." 

Not quite the reply that I was looking for. 

After a crying and cussing fit I came to the realization that this only further solidified our relationship.... and put us on the accelerated program regarding total, brutal honesty in our relationship. 

Monumental things happened that day.  1) Wesley became the first ever male to have the gumption, the gall, the cajones to speak to me like that and live.  And, 2) Wesley became the first male that I ever really listened to, besides my Dad.

It ended up that I didn't get to pick up Loopie on that horrible spring break trip home and I didn't get to meet her for several more weeks.  She was worth waiting for though.  And Wesley and I went through with the whole wedding thing and didn't end up getting a divorce over a puppy and a blizzard. 

And this is the part where you say to yourself "Awwww, such a sweet ending."  See?  I can let some sentimental moments stand uninterrupted. 

Happy birthday, Loop.