There's no place like home ...... there's no place like home ........ there's no place like ..... EEEK !! I've hit the 3 week mark, and yes, there's no place like a home that isn't prepared for a new husband!! I mean closet space .... what closet space ??? Forget the garage. It's a lost cause at this point.
Actually, I'm reminded of Dorothy because I finally, after all these years, got to meet my great friend, COWBOY !! I'm in Dallas for the week in 'management training', and Cowboy was sweet enough to meet up with me for a great evening of laughs, giggles and awkward moments at Chuys. And the Dorothy part, well you'd have to scroll waaaaaayy back in time to a place where Cowboy did write ups about all his blogging friends ... except me. LOL. He told me he went back through his blog and found where I had left my first comment on a post of his, October 26th, 2006 !! Hard to believe it has taken us 7 years to meet. He's only a 3 and a half hour drive away. But life happens and boy has it happened to the two of us during the last 7 years!
He is everything I've known and loved over the years and ... not. He's more. He's real. Not just this great teller of funny, quirky stories on a blog called Bullet Holes In The Mailbox.
And yeah, he used the word quirky and I was impressed because Cowboy has a whole lot more going on in that brain of his than just this larger than life funny man that he plays so well. And it was all there, the reasons I love this great big hearted guy who befriended me at a turbulent turning point in my life. Whose blog ended up in divorce deposition papers that my ex. served me. We have weird history. And here I am, in Oz, learning all about corporate flying monkeys, and Cowboy rode in on his less than shiny white horse-powered steed to save my day from tanking completely.
Thank you, Cowboy, for a great evening. But even more, thank you for hanging in there with me through the ups and the downs and the times when I couldn't talk to anyone, much less blog about it.
Sort of like now, but now it is all about happy stress which feels just like unhappy stress and I don't think that's very fair, because I am OVER THE MOON happy but seriously running out of time to get my house, literally, in order. Now I KNOW ya'll are going to leave me comments about how Soub's not marrying the house, but really: THERE'S NO ROOM FOR HIS STUFF here, at the moment. And I do believe he has a CONTAINER OF STUFF that is being packed up next week.
You know, these big life events, I always tell myself to prepare ahead of time, do a little at a time, so I will be 'free' to savor the big moments. But I always procrastinate and end up a blithering mess, which must mean this is my coping mechanism. And hey, you can teach me some new tricks, but at the end of the day, I'm still a one-trick pony.
BIG HUGS, COWBOY! and it was a long, over-due pleasure.
Soubriquet successfully negotiated the final labyrinth of US Immigrations today at the US Embassy in London. He crossed all his t's and dotted all the i's. And he officially swore to enter America to marry me, the Red Dirt Girl. And that makes me, officially, the happiest woman in the world today. Thank you everyone here who has watched this up and down journey and encouraged us with your well wishes and kind thoughts. May today also be your happiest one this week.
This on the heels of Dr. Jab and my 6 month med check. He has given me a 12 month guideline on 'coming off' of my anti-anxiety med. Apparently withdrawal from it is as equally bad as coming off of any street drug (Does this mean I get new drugs to help me off the old one ??.... just wondering)
Oh right, I'm laughing BECAUSE he praised me for never'ABUSING'my anti-anxiety med.
Sweetheart, if there is ever a time to abuse an anti-anxiety drug,
Which is a misnomer since I have not stopped working since my last day off over a week ago. And now I understand the difference between a 'salaried' employee versus an 'hourly' employee: my time no longer equals money. And the job now demands more of it. My time, that is. Sigh. In my head at the moment are two voices: my mother's exclaiming, "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth!" And my own voice muttering something somewhat unintelligible about 'fool's gold.' As you now have noted, I am often of two minds. So how about we meet in the middle and say,