Well, this is a quandary...

I really don't live here anymore.  I live on Facebook and in the real world.  I don't share much of my thoughts with the outside world.  Privacy has become a good thing.

I've had what you could call a tumultuous past four years, what with all the changing going on with my body and the consequent changes it wrought in my psyche and my behavior.  There were days where I loved being me and days when I absolutely loathed it.  I think I've reached a comfortable landing point, though.  I can be me, authentically, and not feel like anyone else's opinion is going to invalidate my own.  I don't seek validation from others anymore: it has to come from within.  It's easy to say that, but it's harder - much harder - to feel that in the marrow of your bones and to trust its source.  Now, I do.

The changes in my health have been overwhelmingly positive: I no longer go to sleep at night fearing that I might not wake up in the morning due to sleep apnea.  I'm not depressed anymore.  The joint pain that was starting to settle in my knees and ankles has disappeared, as has the foot pain that had me wincing every time I stood up.  My high blood pressure is out of the stratosphere and hovers near normal with a very low dose of one medication opposed to the higher doses of three medications it took previously (as hypertension is genetic in my family, it may never be completely normal without medication).

The changes I've experienced mentally are akin to a roller coaster ride - all kinds of thrilling twists and turns, sometimes feeling like I had no brakes, routinely making me dizzy, but all the while knowing there was an end to the ride coming.  I've had way too much attention from random men, to the point where I don't do a Girl's Night Out with single women any more.  It's got to be all of us old married hens sticking together, as I get approached when left on my own as the single girls find dates.  Since I've been married for almost all of my adult life, I hardly know how to handle this and it makes me uncomfortable having to fend them off.  I'd like to say I haven't ever been tempted by any of them, but that would be a huge lie.  I've been tempted plenty.  PLENTY.  Which leads me to...

The changes that have been wrought in my marriage have been, for the most part, constructive and positive.  I am completely unwilling to settle for third place in my husband's affections - that's lower than the dog, folks - and have let him know in no uncertain terms that that shit shall not continue.  If there has been one good thing that's come out of all of that random male attention, it's that I've realized my own worth and power.  I was, yes, a fool to not realize it earlier.  However, I've got a handle on it now, and it's not going anywhere.  We're celebrating our 20th anniversary in two weeks.  I'm happy about that now.

So, as of right now, it looks like the future may be fairly smooth sailing.  There may be some rough waters ahead as our daughter enters adolescence, and menopause sounds like a blast , but for this moment, I'm optimistic.  And that seems like a pretty good place to leave things.

Today, I am peevish about...

... relatively little, really.

It's midterm week here at my school, so I have students taking tests and generally behaving in the mornings, and then afternoons for grading with no students.  Granted, I have a metric shit-ton of papers to get through, so I can be righteously peevish about that.  It's still a pretty sweet schedule.

I also get to go out to lunch with some of my colleagues, which I usually enjoy.  The work-husband is usually in fine form over lunch, as is my new work-boyfriend (OMG, hello?  I've somehow picked up a work boyfriend - a 27-year old flirt who has relatively few social boundaries and a thing for "older women."  Does that mean I'm cheating on my work husband?  And wait - I'm now an "older woman?!"  Fuck me running!  Oh, the tangled web we weave...).  Plus, I have my favorite girlfriend teachers around if I get my stuff done, so it's all fun and games by Friday.

So, no peeves here today, really.  Hope your day is relatively peeve-free, too.

Today, I am peevish about...

... the fact that I have a cold.  Again.

It started as a tickle in my throat, then a chesty cough, and now congestion everywhere.  My head is a snot factory, to which my nose is the spigot.  I have lost my senses of taste and smell, and I'm sure I have Zombie Breath of the Undead.  You think that's redundant?  Nope, merely uber-descriptive.

It's not as though this was the first cold of the season, either.  I was sick over Thanksgiving, up until a few days before Christmas.  Then, I caught this beauty just after we rang in the New Year.  W.T.F?!

I would really like to catch a break and get some immunity from these farking miserable colds.  'Scuse me, now, as I go gnaw on some vitamin C.

Today, I'm peevish about...

... my trousers.

They are a size XS (Extra Small) yet they are at least two inches too long.  Honestly, I'm not that short!

Moving into the New Year

So, here we all are, perched on the precipice of a new year. A brand new year, full of promise and possibilities, that's just itching to get started - a blank calendar ready to be filled with appointments, memories, dates, and events.

The WCM and I had an epic argument about a week ago. It was the most powerful argument of our entire marriage, indeed, because the marriage itself hinged on that argument. It lasted two days. Those were tense, miserable days indeed. I am not a confrontational person by nature. I tend to pull back and wait things out - not the best strategy when dealing with my bullish spouse, who will make a big noise, pawing and stamping, charging to get his way. This time, though, I stood my ground and got what I needed. I said my piece - reiterated it, restated it, rephrased it until it was completely understood - and finally won my concessions.

We will be starting therapy this year. We need it. I will no longer accept coming in last in my husband's attention. He will endeavor to remember that intimacy in marriage is as important as companionship. Without the former, one might as well have a roommate.

Peevish Place will be starting out 2010 at the bottom of the hill. It's a good place to start, in my opinion, as one can only climb up.

Choices and Changes

I've made no secret that I've been having troubles with the WCM lately - mostly because I refuse to accept that what I've currently got is going to suffice for the rest of my life. There are choices to be made, and changes that come with them.

One of the things that I've always believed is that people don't change who they are. You must accept them for who they are and not think that you can change their personalities, their appearance, or any of their less-than-perfect aspects. Sure, they can try to change what you don't like, but when they do, you run the risk of them resenting you for it. The WCM and I have embroiled ourselves in a bit of a power struggle, where I think I've been the one doing all the changing and accommodating, and I find myself resenting him for it. I also resent that after all the things I've changed for him, there is always something else he wants me to change, something else that's wrong with me and I need to fix, before I'll become acceptable. And lastly, I resent that he expects me to do all the changing, and won't honor the one simple request that I've made at least once a year for the last 18 years. It's a request that most men wouldn't mind in the least. I dare say, most men that have been married 20 years would be thrilled that their wife was making this request. But then, the WCM is not most men.

I played a very dangerous game last month. I went out to a bar with a friend and flirted. A lot. I collected phone numbers from very interested men. I heard all kinds of ridiculous flattery, drank lovely coctails that I didn't have to pay for, and had a lot of fun.

At the end of the night, when I was throwing the phone numbers away - because at the heart of it all, I wouldn't do that to the WCM, even though some of them were REALLY tempting... - I couldn't help but hear that cynical bitch that lives in the back of my mind as she snarked "well hell, honey, there were at least seven men that you wouldn't have to change shit for."

I honestly believe I've reached my breaking point. There are choices and changes in store for me in 2010. I just hope that I can live with them.

Heart Dog

I was never a dog person, much preferring cats. Who wouldn't prefer sleek feline independence to slavish canine slobbering? Cats are much neater and far less demanding than dogs. A cat is never going to wake you up at 3:30 in the morning because it has to pee. A cat won't bug you for a game of fetch, barking at you endlessly to throw the frisbee, Throw the Frisbee, THROWTHEFRISBEE!!!!!!!!! No, indeed. A cat has way too much dignity to lower itself to ask you for anything. Cats are cool.

Imagine the surprise felt by my family when the WCM and I went and got ourselves a puppy. It was September 1996, shortly after a shocking and emotionally traumatic miscarriage. I needed desperately to mother something, anything, to help heal the huge hole left in my heart from losing a baby I'd barely known existed but had wanted with every fiber of my being. The WCM suggested a puppy.

I'd long loved the look of the big-eared, short-legged Welsh Corgi. Having found a breeder, I learned that she had only one puppy available: a little black-headed tricolor boy. We went to visit him that night, and I fell instantly in love. He was a charmer - playful, affectionate, loved to cuddle. The WCM wasn't exactly convinced, as he wanted a larger dog - a Lab or a Shepherd - but he caved instantly when I found out that this puppy and I shared a birthday.

We had to name him after a dance, according to the breeder, so we named him Electric Slide and called him Slider. He became my firstborn, my furry son, my heart dog. I taught him to catch treats out of the air, to play fetch with a frisbee, and to sit on command. He used to snuggle up on my lap and fall asleep as a puppy, and would always come over if I sat on the floor, giving me his belly to scratch. He used to love riding in the front seat of the car. Too short to get his head out the window, he'd press his nose up against one of the air vents instead.

As he got older, we got him a pet - another corgi that we named Zippy - so he wouldn't be lonely while we weren't home. Zippy's a trip. Where Slider thinks he's a furry human, Zippy knows he's a dog. Make no mistake, Zippy's an animal, and he's happy to be one. For ten years, they have run the house together, and I have loved every minute of it. I, who was never a dog person.

Slider is now thirteen and a half years old. He's got arthritis, has gone deaf, and is going blind. Today, we found out conclusively that he has lymphoma and hasn't got much longer to live. I do not know what I am going to do when I have to take him for that final ride in the car. I can't stop crying.

My heart hurts.