Ashes

Judy's ashes are ready to pick up from the vet's office. Is it bad I have a curiosity of wondering what type of container handles such contents? I visited my girlfriend for a quick minute today and stole a peak at their puppies who are only about a month old. Lab and boxer mix and oh my goodness are they the most adorable little creatures. Then I got all choked up because that's about the size Ju-Ju Girl was when I adopted her.

This weekend our base was busy helping linemen get to the East Cost to help the folks on Long Island get their power back So, I was too busy to dwell on the thought of getting a puppy. Now in the still of my thoughts I wonder how much crazier things would be around here.

Edward told us on the way home from putting Judy down that if I never had adopted her that we all wouldn't be hurting so much right now. I'm not sure how I feel about introducing him to a pet he's going to love dearly then mourn even harder come about his 18th birthday.

Needless to say I've worked through the vet hours the last two days. I may just wait until JG gets home mid week before I muster the courage. For three days I had tears, but I didn't cry. Until JG held me and told me he was so sorry about Judy. Then I lost it. Sometimes it takes a kind word to let down your shield. I'm okay with it if JG is my armor.

Judy

Judy's x-ray this morning revealed she had lung cancer. Her lungs were filled with nodules - I knew seeing the picture wouldn't have made a difference in my decision. Within two days her health declined significantly. We kept Zachary and Edward home from school today. We were all with her when the vet put her to sleep. I hope the boys take comfort in the fact that she exceeded a mutt's normal life span of 10-12 years significantly - she was pushing 16. We will be taking her ashes to Maine and burying her at my childhood home next summer.

Fly with Rabies

Hello fly with rabies flying around the bedroom. Most flies follow annoying zig zagging loose figure eights and occasionally landing with soft, yet infested, feet. Not this fly. It sounds like a single army - angrier than the fires of Mordor, bouncing violently off the ceiling. If it hits me, I know it will hurt.

I've thought about blogging at least a dozen times since July - and actually had two drafts started until about five minutes ago. Just like there's little point in keeping trophy jeans from 'the day' I don't like keeping drafts of anything that won't get published. So much has changed and I realize more than anything else I don't ever want to lose my words. A spark of inspiration and the glow of creativity are quickly smoldered when other more 'important' things take precedence. Do you know how sick I am of the trivial nonsense?

Life in this house seems to move around me. I'm starting to feel physically ill from the stress I bring home from work. Not usually a big deal to write off the shoulder and lower back tension but I've been getting incredibly sharp stabbing pains in the right side of my neck where you'd check your pulse. It's happening almost daily now and when it happens I can't do anything but grit my teeth and hope I don't pass out. My hands are also hurting. I was diagnosed over a decade ago with Raynaud's Disease, but I doubt it's related. All the joints in my hand ache all the time and if I carry anything heavy or awkward I get intense, sharp pain.

Separating work from home is difficult and even more so that JG and I work together. He says that if we didn't work together it would take twice as long to share about our days because we'd each be trying to help 'fix' each others' office instead of the same one. There's some merit to that. However, when we both can't sleep at night I'd honestly rather be making love then talking out what needs to happen the next duty day.

JG and I are still trying to find balance even though it's been three months since his homecoming. We've had three real dates since he's been home and we've exceeded the number of dates we had for all of calendar year 2011 (not including military functions). It's a good start.

I really need a new assignment. I think if my two worlds blend even more than they are I'll go crazy.

First Light

I was up before the sun. Things are so different now than they were a month ago. JG is home and my armor is slowly coming off and the sighs of relief are deep and unguarded. :)

Counting The Hours

JG is literally on his way home. I have butterflies in my stomach. I can't wait to see him and the look on his face when he's seen how big his three sons have grown! Michael was about two weeks old when JG left. He's made the most changes. Zachary and Edward have each grown taller. Zachary is getting ready to start wearing a pump for his diabetes. Edward's sternum is healing from when he cracked it with his own head on the trampoline. The trampoline is new. I can't wait to jump on it myself one day. I really can't wait for JG to jostle Zachary on it a bit so he understands what his brother must feel like when they jump together. I'll watch from a safe distance from JG's hammock - his father's day present from last year.

Rain All Week

Rain all week. Raw and cold and bitter. (If you were hoping for a happy post go ahead and just x out now.)

Yesterday I was miserable at physical therapy. Most sessions I leave feeling a bit sore, but never feeling like I may not make it back to the car. It was the first time since I've been back to work that I seriously second guessed myself for getting the severed ACL repaired before JG got home. And let me tell you, I was surprised -- two exercises I had a hard time with came to me easier yesterday. One was doing side steps each direction with a band around my legs just above the knees. The other was doing mini squats leaning up against the wall on an exercise ball. I was technically perfect and didn't need rest in the middle of any of my sets like I had the session before. My confidence was high (even though I was exhausted).

Then, the dreaded step. It's a baby step, maybe only about three inches tall. I'm supposed to stand on it with the bad right leg then bend at the knee and lower myself into a squat keeping the hips even, my booty pushed back and most, if not all, my weight on the bad leg without letting my knee go over my foot. I'm supposed to repeat this motion. Well, I'm supposed to repeat the motion when I get it right. I spent the entire time on that exercise trying to get it right. It's a tiny little motion. My physical therapy technician calls it my 'wall.'

I'm anxious to see how tomorrow's session goes.

Home Soon

JG tells me today that his replacement will get in a week earlier than expected. Of course, this news comes right in the middle of an argument. I don't feel any joy. I'm too upset to be excited and was indifferent on the phone with him and responded with an "oh, that's good, that was a lot earlier than we were expecting."

Since the phone call, the argument several hours later on instant messenger went from bad to worse. I'm wasting Memorial Day right now sobbing in bed like a heartbroken teenager.

The argument was clearly a miscommunication on both our parts, but it's not resolved. During our resolution, things got worse when a modified version of "reflective listening" became a one-way street.

I'm so fed up with the year 2012. It can go fuck itself ass-to-mouth style. I'm that furious.