New Life

For the past five years or so, Julie have been living a life that was, while not built around just surviving, definitely defensive in nature. Get Julie through grad school before she can't stand her job any longer and quits them both. Get the kids through high school. Hope Julie's cancer doesn't come back. Borrow money with the plan of paying it back eventually. Just keep it all together and functioning, reacting to each crisis as it happens, using as much mental duct tape as necessary, until we can manage to gain control and start doing what we want to do instead of what we have to do. Until we can make it to the New Life.

I'm very happy to say, the New Life has started. Julie has her masters degree and board certification and is working as a Family Nurse Practitioner. She likes the work, the pay is good, and she's working daytime hours so we get to see each other a lot more. It's been five years since her cancer treatements finished. And now that I have a CPAP machine that helps me sleep a lot better (more on that later), I have a lot more energy. And we've decided that now is the time to deal with something we've both been postponing: our weight.

We're eating better - a lot better. Lots fewer calories. We're going to the gym together 4-5 nights a week. In five weeks I've lost 14 pounds. Today Julie ran her first race ever, a 5k. She's already signed up for a 10k in October and a 10k followed the next day by a half marathon at Walt Disney World in February. Our plan is to keep pushing until we are both well under 200, and then to stay there. We're feeling great, we're feeling empowered, and this is gonna happen.

So My Daughter Got Her Learner's Permit ...

... and I can't stop thinking of what it said on the box of one of the expansions for the game Car Wars I played a lot as a teenager:

If you don't like the way we drive, stay off the roads. ...and the sidewalks. ...and the lawns.

Toothbrush Wars

Julie: Did you just brush your teeth with my toothbrush?

Me: No, I think I used mine...

Julie: You did! You filthy dirty bitch!

Me (checking the bristles on my toothbrush and finding them freshly wet): No, see, I used mine.

Julie: Oh, okay.

Me: Did you just call me a filthy dirty bitch? For something I didn't do?

Julie: Yeah. You like?

Me: Of course not.

Julie: Yes you do.

Lemony Fresh

Julie: How much do you love me?

Me: Enough to put up with you and your craziness.

J: Put up with me? PUT UP with me??? I cannot believe you said that.

M: Well, I did.

J: That is so rude.

M: Aiyeeeee! Whathell you just pour on me?

J: I don't understand. What do you mean?

M: You just poured something on my head. The heck is this?

J: Oh, you mean this?

M: You poured a packet of lemonade mix on me? Yuck! That's all ... icky!

J: But.... it's only five calories.

So, What's Been Going On The Past Few Months?

Life's been going pretty good the past few months. Financially, as the consequences of my divorce are easing and Julie's continuing recovery from the cancer treatments makes it easier for her to work, plus a nice gift from my parents, we're doing a lot better than we have in several years. More money coming in than going out is a damn nice place to be. Nice enough that we felt comfortable borrowing some money and getting a little something for Julie:

Not quite as fast as it looks, but it is a nice piece of machinery. And it means I don't have to drive us everywhere in my car.

Our cable company finally made HBO Go available to us. Similar to NetFlix's streaming service, it's a really spiffy system, if you already have HBO. In addition to having access to more movies than HBO On-Demand, it also let's you access all episodes of every series HBO has ever run. I've watched Luck and Rome, and Julie's been watching Big Love. Works nicely on our PCs, iPads, and iPhones. Very nifty.

Julie's just about finished her bachelor's degree. It probably won't benefit her career directly, but it does allow her to pursue more advanced degrees, which she couldn't do with just a two-year degree. Yesterday, she got an acceptance letter to the University of South Alabama's critical care nurse practitioner program. So, in a few years, she'll be able to get a job where she's the one who can prescribe medicine, order treatment, and tell someone else to clean up after the crazy patient who just pooped all over the floor. So that's a yay. Meanwhile, she's going to take additional classes at the local community college so that she can apply to either medical school or pharmacy school later. Or maybe go for a nurse anesthetist degree. As my mom told her, when she gets a fire lit under her, she really gets a fire lit. And I am so very proud of her.

Me, I'm just doing my job. I've transferred back to my old department, after a three-year stint in programming that didn't work out. I learned some good stuff, but the project they assigned me to was a really bad idea, and it just kept growing, instead of ending. Feels really good to be out from under it.

And because some things never change, I went to take a shower the other night, and she'd set a trap for me. The shower head was pointing out into the room, instead of down. I got wet, my towel got wet, the dog got wet. We both yelped (the towel remained silent). Yup, that's my baby.

Living The Life Unexpected

I work days and Julie works nights, so we sometimes only get a few minutes together in a 24-hour period. Not fun, but you make the most of the time you do have. The other day I got home at the usual time, and Julie was taking a shower before going to work at the usual time. So I stand in bathroom doorway and we talk about nothing of any particular importance.

And then she took the showerhead down (it's one of those with a flexible hose), pulled back the curtain, and sprayed me! With absolutely no provocation or justification!

There were some obscenities. Some name calling. And a lot of hysterical laughing.

My parents observed when they came down to visit a month ago how I've come alive again, after years of slowly dying inside. It's because I get to spend my life laughing again, instead of just surviving.

And then of course we had to have the "I don't want to go to work" conversation. It's pretty routine, but she always finds a way to keep it fresh.

"I don't wanna go to work. I gonna quit my job."

"You're gonna do it, huh?"

"Yeah. You think there's a lot of demand for big overweight prostitiutes with double masectomies?"

"WHAT? Oh, hell no. Even if I thought there was, do you think I would tell you that there was?"

"Don't be such a big baby. You're not getting any tonight, but someone might as well."

One never knows what will come out of Julie's mouth. And I love it.

She's Probably Right (She Usually Is)

Julie: So what are you getting me for Christmas?
Me: I can't tell you. It's a surprise.
Julie: Is it one of the two things I've told you I want but didn't just go buy myself?
Me: No, it's something else.
Julie: How can you know it's something I want if I didn't tell you?
Me: I came up with it on my own - I used my brain.
Julie: You no have brain!

I'm Not Inspired Yet, But I'm Getting Close

Back when we first started dating, Julie decided she was ready to lose weight. But then her dad died, and then she was diagnosed with cancer, and then her uncle died, and with all the stress those caused dieting just wasn't in the cards. Particularly during the chemotherapy, when all that mattered was "will this food stay down?"

But time has past, and life is much more settled now, and she's decided it's time to give it a go. For two weeks now, she's been monitoring her calories and taking herself to the gym nearly every day. She also signed up to do an extra shift at the hospital every week for the next few months, at the end of which she'll get a very nice bonus. So she's been pushing herself hard. And it's paying off - she's down about ten pounds so far, and while it's hard work, it isn't overwhelming her. Even the edema in her chest isn't any worse than usual (or if it is, she's fighting through it without telling me).

I'm very excited to see this. Less than two years ago, she was so weak from the cancer treatments. Just one night of work would leave her exhausted for days. But now, she's strong, she's in control of her life, and she's accomplishing her goals. I am very, very proud of her. I am even starting to feel a little motivated to start pushing myself to go back to exercising too, although not quite yet. Soon.

She just walked in here after taking a shower to show off how when she wraps the towel around herself there's no longer a gap at the bottom from not reaching all the way around her stomach. That is a big hooray (although the lecherous part of me thinks that means we need smaller towels...).

You Giefs iPhone Right Nao!

Julie: What you getting me for my birthday?

Me: A present.

J: What kind of present?

M: A wrapped one.

J: I know you're getting me a new iPhone, why you not just admit it?

M: You're birthday's in two weeks. You'll find out then.

J: That is too many long! I cannot wait.

M: Just be patient.

J: I cannot! I has a many fatigue and stress. You giefs me my present nao!

M: It's not your birthday yet.

J: I need!

M: I does not has yet.

J: you gonna forget to buy me one, I know it.

-- two days later --

J: I bought a new case for my phone that you're gonna give me for my birthday! See?

M: I guess I'm getting you a phone for your birthday.

J: Hooray! You go get it for me right now.

M: I don't have the money right now.

J: Well, don't you forget to buy it until the last minute and then I won't be able to use it on my trip to Florida.

M: I will get it on my next payday.

J: Good. We can go buy it together. This way I know you not screw it up, and then you can giefs!

M: But that's still a week before your birthday.

J: You're missing the point. You're not too bright, are you? That's okay, I love you anyway.

Story Time

This all happened 35-40 years ago, and most of it is second or third hand, and kids don't always understand what's going on in the adult world. So I don't claim that what I remember is exactly what happened. However, my perceptions of it made a big difference in how I see the world and the people in it, and that's what really matters.

I was probably four years old (which would make it 1972 or so) when my parents invited a man to come over for dinner at our home in Pittsburgh. I remember that he was big (a lot bigger than my dad, who was roughly average-size) and black and rather intimidating to a little kid. Based But he was friendly and after a bit I got used to him, and decided he was okay after all. Pretty typical kid reaction to a stranger in the house. I don't think I ever saw him again.

About a year later, we had moved to Connecticut, bought a house in the suburbs and survived the great ice storm of '73. One day my mom said dad was going to be out of town for a few days, which wasn't that unusual an occurrence, since he traveled a lot on business. She asked if I remembered that man who had come over for dinner, and I did. Well, apparently he was having some trouble with something, and dad was helping him out. Okay.

I don't remember when it came up exactly, or why, but at some point mom filled me in on the story. I was older, but still a kid. Maybe about ten or so. Apparently, dad had spent some time going to prisons and counseling inmates as part of a church outreach program. Now, dad's religious beliefs have careened from atheist to born-again christian and back again over the course of his adult life, with stops along the way for Lutheranism, Catholicism, Judaism, and Anglicanism. Probably some other stuff in there too. I'm not sure where exactly he was in this colorful journey when he was visiting prisons, but I think in the early 70s it would have been more about social justice and less about saving eternal souls. Anyway, that's where he met this man, and he had just gotten out when my parents had him over for dinner. The trouble he was having a couple years later was about as serious as it gets - he'd been charged with murder. My dad had taken time off from work, traveled to another state, and testified as a character witness. Apparently having Dr. T. A. Cruse, PhD, a white upper-middle class engineer speaking on behalf of a poor ex-con black man impressed the hell out of the jury, and he was found not guilty.

Demographically, I'm about as privileged as it gets in this country. White, male, educated, intelligent, heterosexual, two parents who loved me and each other, the list goes on and on. But I learned a valuable lesson, watching my dad as I grew up. Having been dealt all the goods cards doesn't make you better than other people, it just means you were luckier. And sometimes, to be a man means doing right by other people - even if you have to step out of your comfort zone and stick your neck out a bit. I've been thinking about this story a lot this past week, with the BlizzCon kerfluffle. In addition to raising my voice on my blog I took a few steps I don't usually take to try to influence the president of a multi-billion dollar company. I have no idea if anything I did had the slightest impact on how it all ultimately played out, but it never occurred to me not to try. I was not targeted by that hateful video in any way, and I could easily have done nothing. But I know I did right by my fellow gamers, and I sleep pretty good at night knowing I did. Would I still have done it, had I not seen dad's examples - this story and a number of other times, big and small that dad did the right thing. I don't know. Quite possibly not. So thank you dad, for showing me how to be a grown-up, even when it's not convenient.

I Don't Think My Stepson Gets Us

There are the sounds of shrieking from our bedroom. Then water running. A few minutes later I emerge into the living room.

Me (faux indignant): Your mom just poured Dr Pepper on my head!

Stepson: Why?

Me: For her own amusement!

Ss: Is she okay?

Me: Of course not! She's freaking nuts!

At which point he retreats back into the stable and rational world of Spongebob Squarepants. Poor kid. It must be hard being a teenager and knowing your the only sane person in your family.

And She's....

...painting my toenails purple again. Just on the left foot. Not sure why she enjoys doing it, but she does, so I just roll with it. She can't really say. Perhaps it's reassuring to her, a reminder that yes, I do trust her, that I don't mind minor strange incursions into my personal space. I figure tolerating this affront to my manly dignity is just karma, catching up with me for all the times I wouldn't let my six-year-old kid sister dress me up like an oversized Barbie doll.

When I was with Brett, we never did anything together that didn't make sense. And as time went by, we just did less and less together, until there was nothing left. I realize now, doing little things that bring us closer together, that keep us from drifting apart, are so very very important. They keep the love strong and rejuvenated. Who cares if they make sense?

Of course, for the next week or so I'm going to glance down towards my feet and mentally scream "holy crap what happened to my toes???!?" at least once a day. I can live with that.

What I Was Up To One Year Ago Today (Sort Of)

Actually, it was one year ago yesterday. But I was doing other stuff yesterday.

It was a wonderful day. The rain stayed out in the gulf, the store we ordered the food from fixed their mistake in time, we didn't lose the rings, and I was the happiest man in the world.

One year later, I still am.

Does Brett Have Any Marbles Left?

We got to visit my parents last week at their new home in Colorado (They're not in Ohio anymore, because Dad gets insanely restless every few years and needs to move. When he dies, my sister and I plan to put his ashes in an urn and move it around the country periodically so he doesn't get annoyed and go haunt people or something. Anywho.). While we were there, we had several discussions about Brett. We know Brett thinks that she can use Taylor as leverage over my parents when I start cutting off the money flow, and we wanted to make sure they understood that we won't let the utilities get cut off or the food run out. We just aren't going to give Brett cash anymore (much of which I'm sure is going to support her cows and goats and whatever else she's keeping).

Along the way, an interesting datum came up in all this. Brett's secret plan for when I cut her off is to take me to court and claim she is entitled to .... who knows what ... because I was seeing Julie before the divorce went through. Which shows she is pretty ignorant of the law. If at the divorce trial she could have shown that I had spent some of our joint money on Julie (which I admit I did) she would have been entitled to that much more than 50% of our net worth. However, I was already voluntarily giving her significantly more than 50%, so it would have been moot. And of course, there's the small fact that the trial happened over a year ago, and there's no do-overs.

But it's not her secret plan that dumbfounded me. It's just sad, that she thinks she can still avoid having to, you know, support herself like any other adult. What amazed me was that she confided her secret plan to my father. She actually believes that she is so in the right, and I so in the wrong, that my own parents are taking her side. The reality is that they think she is a lunatic who should be committed for her own good.

Twenty years ago, I fell in love with a bright, ambitious young woman. It hurts my heart to see what a pathetic, delusional, train wreck of a human being she has become.

Partners

Julie's at work tonight, her third twelve-hour shift of the week. That's what she is supposed to work, but for the first seven months she's been at this hospital it never worked out that way. Either she was in too much pain from the lingering effects of her surgery and had to call in sick, or there weren't enough patients and she would get put on call. But last month, for whatever reason, the patient load finally picked up enough to match the staffing level, and she hasn't been called off once. This is putting demands on her she hasn't had to meet since before her diagnosis, but she is handling it.

Julie is taking a heavy class load at Austin Community College - eighteen hours. This year she has started working towards earning a bachelors degree in nursing, to open up career options that aren't available with just a two-year degree. Possibilities like becoming a nurse anaesthetist, with great pay and regular hours and no muscle-pulling labor. She had intended to do this a couple of years ago, but then some guy came into her life and thoughtlessly disrupted everything. And then the cancer disrupted things more. But she is stronger now, the strongest she has been in over a year. And she thought she was ready to take on both work and school. It was hard at first, and she was afraid that maybe the cancer and the chemo had damaged her brain. That she might not be as smart as she once was. But after a couple weeks, the rust got knocked off, and her brain remembered how to learn new material and take tests and write papers, and she currently has an "A" average in all five classes. This is putting further demands on her, but she is handling it.

At home, there is much to do. Cooking and cleaning and laundry and grocery shopping and managing the animals and harassing the teenagers to at least make token gestures toward living like civilized human beings. It isn't fun, it isn't very rewarding, but it is so important to me that these things are covered, that Julie not feel like she needs to worry about anything more than what she has to. This is putting demands on me, but I am handling it.

I am very, very proud of Julie. Her ambition, her strength, her determination. She has made it clear that she loves me more than ever for stepping up and supporting her. You know what this feels like?

It feels like we are partners.

For so many years I wanted to feel like Brett and I were partners. Like we were working together to make a better life for both of us. But it never worked out that way. The more I tried to make it happen, the more she focused on herself. But now, with Julie, I finally have that. And it feels wonderful.

New Rules

Rule 1: Oatmeal raison cookies from Tiff's Treats are a legitimate substitute for the planned evening meal.

Rule 2: Dogs are no longer allowed to pull the insole out of my sneakers and bite holes in them.

Rule 3: In all future residences, the television where the teenaged offspring tend to congregate on Friday and Saturday evenings will not be located right outside of our bedroom door.

Rule 4: No one will talk about Rule 4. Ever.

Rule 5: When inviting relatives for the weekend, make sure they understand this does not mean "show up on Tuesday."

The One Where I Talk About My Sex Life

 Back when I was still with Brett, I used to be pretty unhappy about my sex life. Year after year, the frequency would decline, and while sometimes it could be very good, sometimes it could be not good, sometimes even to the point of being downright bad. The six months or so that she would break out in hives at the end was particularly memorable, but often things were more mundane. "You've been really sweet and kind and attentive and helpful today, but I'd just rather stay up and watch this thirty-year-old sitcom than go to bed with you." "OMFG. You guys were like roommates. I think I would kill myself," was Hydra's response when I told her what it had been like. Looking back, I can see that a lot of what I thought was love and affection was really just her hormones kicking into overdrive for a few days. When that had happened to her in college, she'd go on a tear and sleep with a different guy every night. But then I came along, and I was safe and reliable and dependable, so we would be romantic and passionate until her itch was done being scratched. I would take it as a sign she really did love me, and cling to it through the following dry spell. But when the dry spells grew to be multiple months long, even I caught a clue.

Then, Julie entered my life. She not only enjoyed sex as much as I did, she really did love me. (And, yeah, it was a brand new, exciting relationship. That never hurts.) We made love whenever could, in person during our too-infrequent visits together, over the phone or on-line when we had to be apart. For eight months, it was wonderful.

Then came the cancer diagnosis.

We tried to keep the passion going, we both did. But when you don't know if you're going to live or die, when you're being cut into and poisoned and irradiated, when you throw up after every meal and your hair falls out and your breasts are removed, it's pretty damn hard to feel sexy. And I was far too scared I'd lose her, and concerned about her health, and focused on trying everything I could to make life easier for her to be much of a horndog either. But, there was always affection, always a desire to be close to each other as much and as often as possible. I never, ever felt alone the way I did with Brett.

So now, four months after the treatments ended, where are we? In a lot of ways, Julie is recovered from the ordeal. Much of her physical strength is back, and she (and I) aren't fighting a constant battle with fear anymore. (The fear is still there, for me at least, but it's down to a quiet background hum.) Unfortunately, though, her interest in sex hasn't come back. As she said to me the other night,

"I miss wanting sex. I know that sounds weird, but it's like my sex drive took off. I want it back."

It's not that she objects to sex, it's just not something on her radar anymore. Combined with the facts that she works 3-4 nights a week so we often only see each other for a few minutes in the morning and the evening, and we now have her son (and on weekends, my daughter) living with us so there's a lot less privacy, it just doesn't happen all that often. Like, about the same frequency I had with Brett. She's apologized to me, a couple of times, about the irony of it all, that I'm still not getting any. But it's not the same.

For one thing, there's still a lot of physical affection. Cuddling, backrubs, and tickling - I never was particularly ticklish as an adult, but Julie can get me to shriek hysterically. For another, there's still some pain, as her body struggles to adapt to having several lymph nodes removed. This will get better with time. I know she's having to deal with body image issues. I still find her sexy as hell, but it's hard for her, after years of having big magnificent knockers, to accept a pair of small, uneven lumps of fat and scar tissue. This will get easier with time, particularly next year when things have healed enough to get cosmetic surgery. And someday, in a few years, the kids will go off to college - Whoo hoo!

So, yeah, the era of frequent, easy sex is gone. And I miss it, sometimes. But I am loved, and I get to give and receive affection, and I know it'll get easier with time, instead of the slow steady decline I had before. So, I'm okay with it. Gods know, there's a lot worse things that could happen.

I used to write her erotic stories, back in the pre-cancer days. Sometimes featuring us, sometimes our warcraft characters. They could get her (and me) very excited, and add some very enjoyable spice. But I stopped doing that when things got grim a year ago. This week, I started writing a new one. I'll show it to her this weekend, when we both have some time, and we shall see what happens.

A Fashion Request From Julie

"Fuck, I gotta do laundry again. Why can't you just not wear clothes?"

Weekend Chore

Spent some time this weekend on my knees cleaning the carpet in the room the dogs hang out in with the Bissel carpet shampoo thing-a-ma-dohickie. Tedious, but it made a big difference. At some point Julie came over and sat on the floor, just quietly watching me, for about five minutes.

I guess she thought it looked sexy.

Been A Long Year

It was a year ago yesterday that I proposed to Julie. We knew it was going to be a long engagement, in part because we were both still married to other people at the time. Possibly also because, well, it was only the fifth day that we'd actually been in each other's physical presence. We didn't know how long my divorce would drag out, for absolutely no reason. And we certainly didn't know that we were going to have to deal with cancer. But we both knew it was what we wanted.

As I write this, Julie is driving across Texas, to our home. And when she gets here, she's going to stay. Forever. She is bringing Patrick, her fourteen-year-old son with her, and the last of her stuff that was still in Florida. In eleven days she starts her new job. And we will finally be able to start building our life, together.

Been a long year. So, so glad we went through it together.