The Fourteen Years War - 1997 - Volume I

No one in Jeff’s family but his parents knew about Nate and they had never seen him. Jeff was still with Lo until he told her about Nate on her birthday in January. I was still alone and AZ and I were still snarking at each other. I got a new job in June as a paralegal. Since Jeff and Lo had separated, I thought Jeff and I would start rebuilding our relationship, which went no where. We fought all the time. I would cry and go into Nate’s room and tell him how sorry I was that I couldn’t make things work out. My days were filled with work and Nate. I did nothing else. Then, two incidents happened that changed everything. The first was that one Saturday, I had to go to the grocery store. It was a bad time. I was emotionally and physically a wreck. I looked horrible, I felt horrible, my eyes were red from crying and I just prayed I didn’t see anyone I knew, especially AZ. Nate was old enough to sit up by himself in the buggy, so it was between February and April. Of course, I ran straight into AZ. I inwardly cringed as I spoke to him. The look he gave me was one of, "What the fuck have you let him do to you?" Disgust, perhaps a bit of anger. I remember exactly what I was wearing that day. A shapeless over large, long-sleeved tan shirt, and a pair of shapeless, over large wine colored pants. I threw those clothes away and started fighting the depression. I also started demanding answers from Jeff, which only escalated our fighting. I started getting hives when he would come for his once a month, 15 minute visits. The second, definitely changed everything. I was on my way home from work, traveling down Rte. 25 toward the bridge over the river, when I heard on the radio that AZ was engaged. I burst into tears. I was crying so hard I could barely see, breath, or drive. I took a deep breath somewhere and said to the radio, "I don’t think so. He’s not marrying anyone but me." Then I felt guilty. Over the next few days, I knew that all I wanted for AZ was that he be happy. I gathered my courage and called him at the station. I told him I had heard about his engagement and I wanted to congratulate him. His response, "Yeah." I said, "You don’t sound very happy for someone who just got engaged." His next response was practically non-responsive. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what the problem was. That would take almost three more years. Let me tell you now, and then the incident where I found out I can tell about when I get to sometime in October 2000. He asked her, she said yes, then she said, well, maybe not. You don’t ever tell AZ yes, and then, well, maybe not, because the "not" is going to stick. Regardless, AZ stepped up and encouraged me to look for help in raising Nate, as in babysitting and things of that nature, from the State. I wasn’t getting any child support and Jeff had given me about $150 for Nate’s first year of life. I could tell in the time that we had spent apart that AZ had changed. He was very gentle with me. Not snarky. I was surprised because before he could be pretty hard-line about things. He gave me something that weekend. He gave me hope. He also told me that he worked the early shift every Sunday morning, 6 to 10, and since it was so quiet, it was probably the best time to talk to him. He didn’t have to tell me twice.

Cease Fire

Please stand by for an immediate update * Nate asked me to buy him a scratch off lottery ticket last Friday. He won $200 and he has 40 something still left. He was soooo thrilled and one of the things he figured he should do with it was donate some to charity. Guess how many times we’ve been through the McDonald’s drive thru to donate to the Make A Wish foundation? I think I’ve gained 5 lbs. * AZ is leaving for Boston either tomorrow or Saturday. Nate and I worked at the shop until about 11 last night. AZ has talked about just staying here and I have told him he is leaving. He is going to Boston, otherwise I will severely hurt his cranky grouchy bear ass. * I had to cart one of my best friend’s home this evening. She recently started coming clean about being an alcoholic. I came clean about having boundaries when it comes to alcoholics. She called, said she was drunk, I told her to sit tight, I dropped Nate at T-Bird’s, I drove to where she was, got her keys, put her in the car, and drove her home. She wanted to come to my house to "sleep it off," what I call, "avoiding the consequences of driving my parents’ car drunk." She begged me not to do it. Begged me to turn around. Nope. Remember how I JUST BLOGGED ABOUT CO-DEPENDENCY???? Remember it is a SLIPPERY SLOPE? We’re not 15 and 14 anymore, we’re 35 and 34. If I had allowed her to stay here, then I would have enabled her to avoid and lie to her parents and lie to herself. I just don’t do that anymore. I hated it, but I had to do what I did. Girl, I know you read this sometimes, but I’m not sorry for what I did. I love you, but I love myself, my sanity, and the place I am with the whole co-dependency thing too much to backslide. Now it’s time for the MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT My co-worker should thank Brighton for saving his life. I had to make an emergency phone call to Brighton today due to my co-worker’s idiotic remarks. We’ll just call them by some nicknames, shall we? The Lass says she is going to a baby shower this weekend for a friend. This is the friend’s 2nd child in 3 years. Obviously, a trend is developing where peeps have baby showers for every baby they have, as opposed to just the first. The Italian says he doesn’t allow his wife to go to 2nd baby showers nor baby showers for illegitimate babies. The Lass says, "Well, they’re the ones who probably need it the most." The Italian responds, "Well, she can send a gift but she’s not celebrating some chick getting knocked up out of wedlock." That stabbed me in the heart. It really got to me. I half turned in my seat and I said, "Well as the mother of an illegitimate child, I can tell you that my child is just as special as yours." The Italian looks surprised and says, "I know!" The Lass says, "The baby shower is for the baby, to give things for the baby, not to condone or condemn the mother." I’m paraphrasing since my second head was trying to push it’s way through my shoulder and I can feel my tongue splitting. The Italian responds something of the nature, "I don’t think you should be celebrating someone getting knocked up out of wedlock." I turn both of my heads all the way around, pea soup flying everywhere, my forked tongue now flicking out of my mouth, eyes of red, and I said, "All life deserves to be celebrated regardless of the circumstances." Or something like that, as by this time that red film had descended, there’s this roaring in my ears, and the distinctive sound of a snake’s rattle. I guess, maybe, I said it with enough passion and probably a bit of, you know, venom, that he figured he wasn’t going to win this battle and backed down. Now, the reason I got so upset, besides the fact that he didn’t mention the schmuck who happened to help knock up this chick, was because that’s exactly how my family treated me when I had my baby shower. No one from my family was there because they didn’t want to condone my illicit behavior. I think you all can tell, this was no fucking cakewalk for me. I was not any happier about the situation than they were, but, I was carrying a child, LIFE, inside of ME! This innocent baby, who had nothing whatsoever to do with the shitty circumstances. Shall I wear the Scarlet Letter as well? Navy Boy tried to egg things on, almost to the point of cruelty after the Italian left for lunch. I didn’t respond in anyway. I didn’t look at him and I didn’t speak to him. I was so mad and upset, it took me an hour to calm down and that was only after I placed my emergency six minute phone call to B. (B’s response: Oh, Catholic huh, he probably has little dick syndrome.) No offense to my Catholic readers. I almost called my mother and confronted her about my baby shower. I wanted to know if it made her feel good, to know, that she will never, ever see her daughter pregnant again, nor will she ever attend any festivities welcoming said child to the world. See, not everything is water under the bridge. Sometimes that old shit, it rears its ugly head. But you know what? I remembered I was there. I was at my baby shower. I was there for the birth of my son. I look at him today and I love him with such incredible intensity. I love his big heart and the way he makes funny faces. It no longer matters to me how he got here, it only matters that he’s here and he touches the lives around him in a good way. I had, and continue to have, every right to celebrate the incredible gift of this child. He’s made me a better, stronger person. I love you, Natty. The Fourteen Years War will continue tomorrow

The Fourteen Years War - 1996 - Volume II

Nate's birth story is here. As you will note, Jeff called and bitched at me on July 7th because he wished I would just have “that goddamn baby.” Why? Because he had a trip planned with his other family around the time I was due. Jeff missed the birth but he did come to the hospital after his shift. He left on his vacation and called me from MD. It was barely a 3 minute call but it was enough to spiral me into a darkness of which I had never known. I was depressed, my hormones were going nuts, and Nate never slept. That day he and I cried relentlessly. I thought I was losing my mind. Nate nursed me dry, I was weak from my blood loss during birth, and I felt totally alone. AZ did nothing to help that. I called and left a message on his voice mail that I had given birth, gave him all the vital stats, and tried to act like everything was okay. When he called me back, the first thing he said was, “You can’t call me at home anymore. Jean is living with me now and she was upset when she heard your message.” I was speechless. I remember saying something like, “I just wanted you to know that I had the baby.” “I know, but don’t call me at home anymore. Don’t call me at home.” Ohhhhhh... I see, don’t call you at home, but call you at work. Yeah, I got it. Whatever. Belatedly he said congratulations. I wrote AZ off, for about two months. Out of spite, I called him at work. He knew I was just being spiteful too. I think he likes that about me. We were back to snarking at each other. Our conversations were far and few between, almost as far and few between as the times Jeff saw Nate. I worked, I took care of Nate, I fought with Jeff. End of year.

The Fourteen Years War - 1996 - Volume I

I finally had to tell my parents in mid-January that I was pregnant with their first grandchild. Oh, the humanity! Jeff and Lo were still together and Jeff and I were seeing less and less of each other. I remember going to the bar once to see AZ when I was pretty far along. I remember he frowned at me for smoking a cigarette. For the most part though, I didn’t have much to say to AZ. I was too busy dealing with Jeff. I felt lucky that T-Bird had come into my life. In February or March, I had the ultrasound that would show what we were having and true to form, it was a boy. Jeff did go with me to find out and when I looked at the monitor and saw Nate’s face the first time, I told Jeff in elevator afterwards, “He looks just like you.” Jeff didn’t have much to say. Most of the time, I was dealing with my family, and dealing with the fact that Jeff called more than he saw me, and never touched me. It was a very lonely time. I had virtually no support but T-Bird and my co-workers. I didn’t have much to say to AZ because although I felt trapped in my relationship with Jeff, felt that I should stay with him, felt that I should stay with the father of my child, felt that I should make everything okay, I missed him terribly. I also regretted a lot of things and those who mattered most, my family and Jeff, made me feel as though I was damaged goods. On May 4th, Jeff called me late at night, around 11:30. His shift commander had confronted him about me and my pregnancy. Jeff denied the child I was carrying was his so he decided he would call and tell me about it. I cried and cried and cried after we got off the phone. Heaping, wailing sobs for at least two or three hours. I still got up the next morning and went to work. Around 11:00 I started feeling uncomfortable. My Braxton-Hicks contractions were picking up, or so I thought, until I started timing them. I didn’t feel anything if I stood up and walked around but sitting down, I was starting to feel a burn. I called my OB’s office, which was just a street over. They told me to come in for a check. Once they got Nate settled down enough and got the monitor on me correctly, my contractions were three minutes apart. I called T-Bird and she came to pick me up. We went to the hospital where I called Jeff. He didn’t offer to show up. I was dehydrated and had a bladder infection. They shot me up with antibiotics, fluids, and that crazy icy stuff that stops your contractions. My doctor came in later and checked my cervix (can I begin to tell you how gentle he is) and pronounced me fit as a fiddle or closed, which is better. I still had some residual contractions and took a day off from work and then a half a day. Worse, I laid in bed at night and wished Jeff away. I wished AZ was the father of my son. After May 5th, it just got worse. I looked at myself in the mirror and said, “AZ would have been there. He would have been there for you and his son.” After all the writing I’ve done and remembering, I probably wasn’t far off the mark. It got me through.

The Fourteen Years War - 1995 - Volume III

Another Haunted Trail came and went. So did the due date for my period. My bronchitis came back, worse than ever. On November 3rd, I went to my doctor. Before prescribing any antibiotics, I had to have a blood test done since my period was late (and my boobs were sore and I was exhausted). As I walked to his office for the results, I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t pregnant. Right. The doctor broke it to me gently. He said I had options. I fired back, "I’m not having an abortion." He smiled and said, "I’m glad." He referred me to an OB-GYN. I called Jeff when I got back to the office. He knew what was going on and he asked what the doctor said, "It’s not good," was my reply. I think I cried for the next nine months. Jeff met me at my place as I took the rest of the day off work. He mentioned abortion and I shut him down too. I was fearful of telling my family especially, but more fearful of Jeff. He had always told me if I got pregnant he would push me down a flight of stairs and I took him seriously. To me, that was my baby and no one was taking it away from me. He looked at me and said, "It’s a boy." I shot back, "I know!" A little over a month after we found out, Jeff got ripped at an office party and showed up at my place. It was the last time we ever had sex. AZ’s response when I told him about the baby was very controlled. He wanted to know if Jeff had moved in with me and I said, "No. He lied about that." Then AZ wanted to know if I had told my mother. Somehow, he has a way of knocking me upside the head without ever touching me. "No, I’m waiting to make sure nothing happens to the baby. No use getting them all upset for nothing." He was not amused. Frankly, neither was I.

The Fourteen Years War - 1995 - Volume II

So, I worked again and afterwards I went to the radio station and AZ and I hung out. Afterwards, we dropped by the post office and AZ convinced me I really did want to go home with him. Not like it took much convincing. We may have even had to the, "You can’t be very happy with her/him if you’re here with me" conversation. I do remember that as I was getting dressed, AZ came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I looked at him in the mirror and he looked at me. I had seen this in my dreams a hundred times. I still have the jeans I was wearing that night, even though I’ve long outgrown them, I can’t bear to throw them away. It was the last time we kissed. Even though AZ offered me a job, I knew my parents and Jeff would not approve, plus I needed a job with benefits. Two weeks later I went to Atlanta to see Jeff and we went sight-seeing at Stone Mountain. I came home and got a job with a temp agency and eventually landed a full-time gig in the accounting department of a large construction materials manufacturer. I bought a small trailer from a girl I knew from college and moved out of my parent’s house into the city I live now. Well, it wasn’t in the city limits but close enough. Honestly, I thought that when I moved, things with me and Jeff would get better. They didn’t. I moved in July of 1995, and by September, we were on the skids, big time. I was growing more and more disenchanted with the fact I was now autonomous and had my own place and Jeff and were spending less and less time together. I was tired of the excuses and bullshit. I can see now that not only had I outgrown my parents, I was outgrowing Jeff as well. He promised me he was getting a divorce and said he might need a place to stay, could he possibly stay with me. I said he could if he filed for divorce. Around that time AZ called me. I told him what was going on and he asked if he could call me. I told him that Jeff may be staying with me. Understandably, he was not hearing any of that noise and told me to forget it. (I try not to regret these pivotal moments in my life because they brought me to where I am now and let us not forget, AZ was still seeing Jean.) The bad feelings between Jeff and I persisted until October. I had a few vacation days at my job I had to use before the end of the year and I convinced Jeff to allow me to go to Knoxville, TN with him for an FOP convention to try and patch things up. Did I mention at the end of September I had had a horrible case of bronchitis and I had to take antibiotics? Jeff decided while we were there that he would show me where he and Lo had gotten married. I sat there incredulous as he drove me by the church. Karma is a bitch. Nanner got knocked up in Knoxville. I think Jeff and I knew it the moment it happened. It put a pall on the remaining day we had. I questioned Jeff on the way back about the fact his elder son’s grandmother has passed away and how he was going to explain the fact he and Lo were divorcing. "I don’t know!" I knew in that moment that Jeff had lied to me. He wasn’t really divorcing Lo and I hated the fact I had given up another opportunity to be with AZ because of his lies and my stupidity. I don’t know who I hated more at that moment.

The Fourteen Years War - 1995 - Volume I

1995 started out with Jeff going to Atlanta for polygraph school. I was unemployed and my parents were spending a lot of time at their new farm, which left me with a lot of time on my hands. I spent most of my days with my friend Markie (female), who was my neighbor and is deaf. We would drink coffee, smoke, and watch the O.J. Simpson trial. With Jeff gone, I was free also to go out. I spent many evenings at AZ’s bar. He had purchased the bar with a friend of his (Mike). I didn’t drink much while there, I spent more time talking to the blind guy and reading a book. AZ was dating, well, I’ll call her Jean. One night I went in and sat down as usual. AZ wasn’t there but the Mike was and he asked what I had planned, was I busy etc. I said I wasn’t and didn’t have any plans and he asked me to work because a couple of waitresses had called off. So, I threw on a t-shirt and started waiting tables. AZ came in a little later and the crowd thickened. It was a busy night but around 1 a.m., AZ said he had to back to the radio station to do some work. He asked me to come down after we closed. I said I would. After Mike and I finally shooed all the drunks out the door at 2:00 or so, we cleaned up. Mike was a very good looking guy but had a steady girlfriend. I liked him though and he liked me and we were somewhat attracted to each other. We ended up laying on the pool table together, not touching, talking about how he had his girlfriend (who I believe he actually married) and how I had Jeff and we shouldn’t even be contemplating doing anything at all. We laughed and I told him I had to get out of there so I could go see AZ. Mike went ballistic. "No, no, no, no, you can’t go see AZ. I have to go see AZ and if he knew that you and I were here together this late he would be pissed (upset? jealous? - can’t remember his exact words). I stared at Mike and then laughed, "Mike, AZ is not going to be jealous. He knows if I’m going to cheat on Jeff, it will be with him. It’s not a big deal. AZ will not be mad." Mike persisted in a dead panic about AZ not knowing we were there so long together and alone. I finally relented and went home, while Mike went to the radio station. The following evening the phone rang. It was AZ. Practically the first words out of his mouth were, "What happened between you and Mike?" My mouth dropped open, "Nothing! And if he said any different then he’s lying! We didn’t even touch each other. Didn’t kiss, nothing!" I recounted the entire evening after he left, including mine and Mike’s conversation. There was a pause and AZ said, "What makes you think I wouldn’t be jealous?" My mouth dropped open again. "I, well, I don’t know, you just never acted jealous before." "Just because I don’t act jealous doesn’t mean that I’m not." *Gulp* Reminder: I’m seeing Jeff and AZ is seeing Jean. Jean is important later on. "Can you work tonight?" "Sure." "Are you going to come and see me after work?" "Yes."

The Fourteen Years War - 1994 - Volume III

By this time, I was in way far deep with Jeff. He had worked his magic on me. I say that because I was very co-dependent at the time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still co-dependent, just not an active member of the Co-Dependent Society. I see co-dependency the same as I do alcoholism, you can slide down the slippery slope. This was around the same time I was in counseling for the sexual abuse and looking back, I can say I shouldn’t have been any new relationships. Sometimes it is hard to see your own vulnerabilities. Jeff and I spent as much time loving as we did fighting. He was (and is) very jealous. He controlled me in much the same way Julie had controlled AZ, through fear and love. On occasion, we would go out to a remote camp, drink, fight, have sex, laugh, or whatever. I warned him that we had to be careful since he wasn’t actually divorced and the other officers were going to pick up on our relationship, which he 100% denied. Why he didn’t think anyone would notice is still totally beyond me. One of our favorite meeting places was that same park where we had first met. There was one particular shelter that sat at the top of a hill. I became very adept at recognizing the distinctive sound of a police cruiser coming up that hill. Once, we caught a peeping tom up there. Guess who the peeping tom was peeping on? An off-duty police officer and his illicit girlfriend. It wasn’t his best day. I got a pager and Jeff and I became very skilled at sending each other messages via numerical code. We could call from any phone and tell the other where we were and where we were going to be. I hung out at a local club where Jeff worked overtime. It was behind that club that Jeff and I kissed the first time. The pager also became a convenient way for Jeff to break up with me. I would be driving down the road and out of the blue, boom, he would tell me he didn’t want to see me anymore ... via pager. This would persist for a few days, just enough time for me to cry it out and attempt to move on when he would page me, want to see me, etc. I see now it was a cat and mouse game. He kept me off balance enough to keep me in line, which as you can probably tell, was a full time job. As Viggo says, "The nurse in me, won’t let me leave." AZ was often not far from my thoughts, and there were many times that I missed him. Although he and I fussed, it was nothing compared to the knock down, drag outs that Jeff and I had. It was nothing like dealing with Jeff and Lo reconciling for the kids’ birthdays, Thanksgiving, and Christmas when Jeff’s older son would come in from out-of-state. My disenchantment waxed and waned. AZ and I still talked but kept a decent distant from one another physically. By the end of 1994, Jeff had been promoted to the detective bureau and subsequently would be spending time in Atlanta, GA to learn how to run a polygraph. Oh, how when the cat’s away, the mouse shall play. Next... 1995

The Fourteen Years War - 1994 - Volume II

When Jeff and his wife separated, we started seeing each other on the sly. Oh Holy Hera! Did we ever! And then, he and his wife reconciled for a period of time and then they separated and then they reconciled, over and over and over. I have no doubt that Jeff didn’t love her but he loved his daughter. Now, fucking fantastic, I was stuck between two men, both of which I loved, both of which were doing things to stay with "their children". I totally understand that but some of it, I didn’t understand. Eventually, I heard that AZ was having a remote for the radio station and as Jeff was off somewhere or mad at me or something, I went to see him. He was sitting at the bar like the world was sitting on his shoulders. I sat down with him and asked him what was wrong. Julie, the horse ugly fat bitch? Yeah, she didn’t have cancer. Healthy as a fat ugly horse. I asked AZ, "So, who finally tipped you off?" He looked at me with death in his eyes. "My Mom. You don’t seem very surprised, like a lot of my other friends." I told him I had suspected all along she was lying but it was pretty much confirmed when I saw her. He was furious. "Why didn’t you say something?" I told him that I wasn’t willing to risk our friendship over her, he refused to listen anyway, and that he knew I loved him and I was afraid he would have thought I was only jealous. I was jealous, not of the child, but of Julie. He denied he would have thought any of those things. I hate to tell him, but I’m not sure he would have. Sometimes you don’t realize how deep you’re in until you’re out. Oh, the reason Lex left? Because he found old tapes of when "Jenny" had called the radio station and compared them electronically to the voice tapes of Julie when she had called. He said they matched. He quit his job and left. That’s right. "Jenny" didn’t die because Jenny and Julie were the same person. CAN YOU FUCKING IMAGINE?????

The Fourteen Years War - 1994 - Volume I

1994 found AZ back at his old radio station. They had rehired him even after his assault on their ratings. They figured it would be better to have the fox back in the henhouse. But not before he met a woman, I don’t recall her name, we’ll call her "Jenny." (This is the background as provided by Lex) "Jenny" used to call AZ and Lex at the other radio station. Both of them were very fond of "Jenny," even though they never met. Obviously she called the station quite often to talk to them. I suspect it was often over the midnight shift, when all others are sleeping, that she did this. "Jenny" was very depressed though and called either Lex or AZ one evening and said she was going to end it all. Her sister, Julie, called a few days later to inform them that "Jenny" had in fact committed suicide. Needless to say, AZ and Lex were both very distraught, especially given the fact "Jenny" had a small child who Julie took custody of. Then Julie started calling and talking, especially to AZ. Lex found something very fishy about the situation and finally quit the station and moved to Ireland, not returning until his father was terminally ill with cancer. AZ started talking about Julie and the child. When I saw photographs of AZ and the child together, I was shocked at how much they resembled one another, even though I could tell the child was of mixed race. AZ then informed me that Julie had leukemia and her prognosis was not good. Of course, AZ, having been very close to "Jenny," now took over the father role to this young child, even taking him to kindergarten his first day. AZ was like any other parent, consumed by his child. Julie began taking over more and more household responsibilities. AZ bought a house so that the child would have his own bedroom after Julie passed away. One time she passed out while cleaning snow from her car, so her condition was not getting any better. It was around this time that I met Jeff again as a student rider for the police department. I can’t say again that sparks flew, as I was very cautious around anyone with a gun. However, after a few eight hour shifts together, it was apparent, something was happening between us. Jeff even knew about AZ and knew how much I cared for him. I remember sobbing in AZ’s kitchen about falling in love with Jeff. Frankly, AZ quietly warned me away from the situation. I didn’t listen though and the reason I didn’t is because there was no way I could compete with Julie and the child. AZ pushed me away when it came to them. I finally saw this Julie woman one night at the bar. I had stopped in for a beer and conversation with AZ when she brought the child in the bar at 11:00 at night. He could not have been more than 4 or 5 years old at the time. I saw my worst nightmare. A horse ugly fat bitch who looked nothing like a cancer patient, carrying the one thing AZ loved most in the world. I was stunned out of my mind. AZ knew I still loved him. Any attempts to talk to him about Julie and the child went unheeded, the same as his speech to me about Jeff. I felt like I had lost him and I would never, ever have a chance with him, no matter how much I loved him. As I said, he was consumed and I became consumed with Jeff.

The Fourteen Years War - 1993 - Volume III

I did call him. I went to see him and explained everything. I cried and I figured he and my mother had had quite the pow-wow on the phone and he had had time to deal with it before I talked to him about it. He was the first man to touch me sexually after that happened. He did all the right things. Two things stand out in my mind. The first was when he ran his hand up my naked back and he stopped and drew a breath. I’m not sure if was my vertebrae sticking out or the fact my skin had broken out terribly along my shoulders, which is very unusual for me. Regardless, I knew it was either of those which drew him up short and, as I said, I was very sensitive about the weight I had lost and how I looked, so I stopped short too. Wow, this is one of those tough things that hurts, in a way, to remember. I wanted to crawl away in a hole. I did. I was ashamed and scared that he was going to reject me. If I remember correctly, I was sprawled out on top of him, it’s dark, but I knew my eyes were closed, my head was hanging, and he brought my forehead to his lips and enveloped me in his arms. On occasion, he still kisses my forehead, and it’s the same rush of love and acceptance every time. The second thing was after we fell asleep. AZ has a king size bed not just because he’s tall but also because he flops like a fish out of water, not to mention, he’s a very light sleeper. The noise of the answering machine kicking on, in a closed drawer, under a wadded up t-shirt could still wake him. Having slept with him before, I knew this, so I perched on the edge of the bed allowing him the maximum room to flop. But I had a dream. Must have not been a very good one because he told me later I was moaning and twitching, all guaranteed to keep him awake. All I remember is trying to get out of the dream. You know where you’re trying really hard to wake up and it’s like you’re swimming up from the depths? That kind. The scary, chest crushing kind. I felt like I was literally clawing my way out of something. Then I sat straight up in the bed. I tired, disoriented, and scared. AZ sat up too, wrapped his arms around me, and laid me back down, still in his arms, still holding me tight, soothing me. All the right things. Who knew life would step in and clobber us? The fall of 1993, saw me back in college, taking more advanced classes where I met a member of the police department which Jeff worked for. My instructor was the chief of the detective bureau and was a member of the FOP. He invited to me to participate in the annual Haunted Trail held at a local park. I was still a bit leery but since it meant possible brown-nosing points, I gamely signed on. I was some kind of screaming witch and the Lieutenant said, "Hey Nanner, scream for Jeff here." And I did. That was mine and Jeff’s first meeting. Nothing Earth shattering, no sidelong glances, not another word spoken between us. Things get a bit fuzzy toward the end of 1993, but I know this was around this time that a woman named Julie came into Steve’s life. Between Julie and Jeff, AZ and I would find ourselves at impasse after impasse in 1994. That story is one of the most incredible I’ve ever heard or been a pseudo party to. (Lex filled in many missing blanks in this story, so you will get the full story, not just the half-assed one that I did for so many years.) Our year had started out with two people getting to know each other better and asking questions, blue bras, ice cubes, and that yellow dress he loved to take off of me. It ended with Julie having a direct influence on my relationship with AZ and therefore, later with Jeff and we began a steady decline into 1994.

The Fourteen Years War - 1993 - Volume II

AZ really didn’t have much of a chance to anyway because in February of 1993, I was sexually abused by a former classmate of mine. I wrote about it here. Yes, a very hard time would begin for me. I stopped going out with my friends, I skipped class, I stopped eating, I stopped seeing AZ too. I couldn’t stand for a man to touch me. I was really close to an ex-boyfriend of mine and we would curl up on the couch in the Art Building and nap together between classes. One day he laid down beside of me and I freaked out. Right now, I weigh around 135. At the height of this insanity I weighed about 105, twenty pounds less than my normal weight. Not hard to accomplish when you’re only eating one bite of food a day. Once I started dealing with it, my weight crept up a bit but still I was painfully skinny and very sensitive about it. My boss and our district manager knew what had happened and decided I might do well with a change of scenery, so after college was out for the summer they sent me to another work site out of state for a few weeks. It ended up being something like two and a half weeks and I called home to let my Mom know that I was coming home. (Luckily, my Mom’s sister lived within five miles of the place I was working so I was well looked after while I was there.) My Mom said, “AZ called. He was worried about you. Said he hasn’t heard from you in a while. He’d like for you to call him when you get back.”

The Fourteen Years War - 1993 - Volume I

1993 dawned bright and clear. Frankly, I don’t know how it dawned, but having celebrated AZ’s birthday in December and receiving my first and only Christmas card from him, it appeared as though things were going to be starting out okay. 1993 is both fuzzy and deathly clear. In January and the beginning of February, I don’t remember a whole lot. I know that sometime in the 92-93 segue, I had heard AZ talking on the radio about some ex-girlfriend and it got my back up. (Ya’ll know what “got my back up” means, right? Like a cat or a porcupine? Yeah? Okay.) I mentioned it to him and he asked, “Why do you care?” I said, “Because it’s mean.” He said, “Well, you’ve never been my girlfriend, so I wasn’t talking about you.” *Pause* “Why haven’t we ever dated?” *Pause* “Don’t know.” Then came the inevitable question of, “If you have a girlfriend and I have a boyfriend, then what are we doing here?” And then the inevitable snark, “Well, you must not be very happy with him if you’re here with me.” And the retort snark, “Well, you can’t be very happy with her if you’re here with me either.” Talk about talking around something. Then came the incident about the address book, which I blogged about but will put the pertinent part here. We were laying in the bed. He was on his back and I was curled up next to him since its always arctic cold when we sleep (whether together or separately) and I was just drifting off when he ran his hand up my back and he said, "Hey." I raised my head and looked at him but he didn't look at me. "Know what I did the other day?" "No, what?" "I went through my address book and I erased people right out of my life." That sent a chill right up my spine. The finality of his words. "Oh." "But when I got your name, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make myself erase you," and then he looked at me and I saw anger and pain in his eyes, and then they softened. I don't remember what I said, but I do know I probably kissed him and ran my hand down his chest. Then I would have turned over and he would have pulled me flush against him, draping his left arm over my waist, our hands intertwined and tucked between my breasts as we slept. Sometime after that, we hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks and he called me, so I went to see him. Now, AZ was just not one for coming out with emotional things and to hear him say things sometimes takes me full off guard (like last night when he was pissy with me because I had made a flyby of the shop and didn’t spend anytime with him - that man... *sigh*) but that day, we were laying in bed, and he said, “I missed you.” I hate to even write these words out. I hate it. God, but I fucked that up and royally. Fuck. My response was a light-hearted, “Are you on drugs?” Yeah. Smooth. Wonder he even speaks to me, huh? Ever want to snatch your words back onto your mouth? There was no recovery from that, even when I realized, he actually meant it and it meant a lot for him to say it. Again, it would have helped had I known a little bit more about him. However, not a great moment. Guess who wouldn’t speak to me for a while? Yeah.

1992 - 1993 Segue

Yes, both AZ and I dated other people during the year of 1992. Yes, we were still together during that time, even when we were dating other people. No, to my knowledge, neither of us had sexual relations with any of those significant others. Tough questions and hard times would follow in 1993.

The Fourteen Years War - 1992 - Volume III

This was also the time that my relationship with my parents grew rockier and rockier as they tried to rein me in as I was attempting to spread my wings and old issues popping up between my mom and I, I did start a short-lived downward spiral. I say short-lived because of two incidents. I had headed out early, stopping at Beki’s apartment, hit the water bong with her, her roommate, and her roommate’s boyfriend, then popped a few speed pills, drank a beer or two, and then went out dancing. I hit a joint behind the club with the bartender and proceeded to drink even more beer and probably a few B-52's. Had a few more pills, toked up, had a few more beers. By quitting time, I was trashed, but eerily sober, somber, and paranoid. AZ was working midnight shift at the radio station, and although I had often snuck into the other radio station to sit with him, not to mention that little tryst in the sound-proof room, this was a different story. I called him from the bus station crying, practically hysterical, because I couldn’t find him. He ordered me to get back in my car, lock the doors, and drive forthwith to his apartment and wait for him there. The bus station at 4 a.m. dressed like an 80's band whore, not exactly my glowing moment. Did I mention it was snowing? Did I mention how short my hot pants were? Did I mention I didn’t have a jacket? I did make it to AZ’s house in one piece, now more than just upset but also terrified because I had freaked out. It had to be hard for AZ to wait out his shift, not knowing whether I had actually made it to his place or not. It was I who was bleary eyed and disheveled as he angrily jerked up on the door handle of my car and then strode away in the pre-dawn light. It was cold and I was shaking from chills and coming down whatever I had put in my body that night. One of his friends came by and they talked while I shivered and dozed on the couch. Eventually, his friend left and AZ practically picked me up off the couch and carried me to the bed. He was angry and had basically let me lay on the couch shivering as penance. He didn’t say a whole lot but I knew he was upset and that bothered me. Fast forward a couple of weeks. Almost same scenario, I just didn’t call him this time. I was just asleep in my car when he got home from work. The same angry jerk on the door handle, this time, more vocal, as in, “Get your ass out of the car and into the house. Have you ever thought about what would happen if it wasn’t me who was pulling on your door handle? What if it was the cops or someone else?” I didn’t answer, I just followed. As I got to the doorway, he turned and said, “Don’t come in here with those clothes on. Go get some other clothes out of the car.” I hated him very briefly in that moment. I trudged back out to the car, got some clothes, and with attitude, changed. Petulant was I, oh so petulant. He was waiting for me in the living room. His bottom lip drawn up, eyes glittering, that “stop fucking with me” aura seeping out of his pores. I wasn’t so petulant then, I was back to terrified. I really expected him to tell me to get the fuck out and never come back. I expected him to yell at me to stop sleeping in front his house and just stop, stop everything, just get out and never come back. I expected the worst. I expected the yelling and insults to rain down on me. That’s what I was used to, having shit thrown back in my face. I’m not sure now if he met me in the middle of the room or if I sat beside of him, I just don’t recall. I do remember his words though. “Nanner, you’re very beautiful and you don’t need to dress like that to get attention.” As you know, that is not what I had been expecting. It floored me and I’m pretty sure I started crying and I’m pretty sure he hugged me and I think he said something about, “Please don’t ever do this again.” *Laugh* And since it was probably 7 a.m. in the morning, we went to bed. After gathering my courage and petulance back, I grumbled, “Why did you make me change my clothes if you were just going to take them off of me again? You pissed me off.” A smug grin played out along his face, “I know.” How could I do anything but laugh? He got me and I never did that again. Once you start getting to know someone, you start developing patterns. Now, the wild drinking, semi-drugging, wasted phase didn’t last long (relatively speaking), but the dancing and laughing and fussing, it continued. I would describe us as “unstable” at that time. Not just because of me but also what AZ was dealing with, those things I didn’t find out about until later. For some reason, we kept coming back around to each other. Even after I ripped his picture to shreds. Yes, I did. That’s how much he pissed me off. But, when I would go to his house in the afternoons, we would lay in bed, kiss, and snuggle, I would give him a whole body massage and he would say, “Tell me a story,” and almost every time, that story would start, “Once upon a time, there was a big, grouchy bear named AZ.”

The Fourteen Years War - 1992 - Volume II

I was totally crazy about him from the moment I met him. I was also very young and inexperienced. He had already graduated from college and been engaged, which ended badly. He was still in mourning from his father’s sudden death. (This took some time to get out of him) I was also deep in my party phase. Most of that first year was spent going to college, working, getting toasty on the weekends, dancing to live bands in the clubs, or dancing at the bar that AZ worked at. He worked on the second floor overlooking the dance floor and often I felt his eyes on me and I would look up and he would smile and wave. If I wasn’t there, then I would leave wherever I was, drive to his apartment, and sleep in my car until he came home. All he had to do was walk up and lift the handle on my door, which made the keys “sing” in the ignition, and I would get out and follow him inside. Oddly enough, he always came home, and he never had a woman with him. He never told me to get lost. That’s not to say though that we didn’t spat. Oh Lord, did we fight! He was, and still can be, one sarcastic asshole. If he vented on me, I wouldn’t see him for a week or more. Often I would take my breaks between classes and call him from the payphone at the school, sometimes he called me there (way before cell phones ya’ll!), and then sometimes I would show up on his doorstep, unannounced, and he would open the door, bleary eyed and disheveled, and I would wince, apologize, and then he would drag me inside, undress me, and throw me in the bed. (Disclaimer: No, no sex, just everything but) I skipped many a class with AZ. Time has made some things fuzzy and the time frames involved may be a little off but not enough that I feel as though I must consult AZ, yet. Sometime in early Summer, I asked him why we didn’t progress our friendship/relationship to include sex, since we did everything but. His response at the time was, “I don’t love you and I don’t know if I will.” That stung a bit, more than a bit. Of course, it might have helped if he were a little more forthcoming about how his relationship with his fiance ended and how soon before I came to know him that it had ended. Water under the bridge now. Regardless, I loved him anyway and I remember how he groaned in frustration with me when I informed him that him not loving me didn’t stop me from loving him in the least. One thing is, I was WILD AS A BUCK. I lied to my parents about who I was with and where I was going. I especially lied about weekends. Often, okay, all the time, I would say I was staying with Kelli or Beki, and I would actually stay with AZ. I was experimenting (lightly) with drugs, drinking too much at times, and dressing like a total 80's band whore. I loved to dance and often spent more time on the dance floor than at a table. This was around the time AZ had been fired from his radio gig and, for a while, was going under in the Gulf of Depression. I’d swing by between classes or call and check on him. In no time, he had landed a gig at a competing radio station and took great glee in peeling the former radio station’s bumper stickers from my car. He declared all out war, even to the extent, he was showing up earlier at concert ticket sleep-overs and generally making the other radio station look bad. I can still see his smug grin. Amen.

The Fourteen Years War - 1992 - Volume I

I know writing this is not going to be easy. It may not even be cathartic. However, I have wanted to write this history down for a long time. No time like the present. Chronologically... In January of 1992, I noticed a good looking redhead hanging out at the Art Building at my college. We started talking and then dating. Valentine’s Day was on a Friday that year. I remember because that good looking redhead broke up with me the day before V-Day. On the following Monday, I’m assuming, since it would have been the first time I saw my friends Kelli and Beki at school, Kelli told us she had met a local DJ, AZ. We were in awe. THE AZ. Wow. She said she was kind of interested in him and would we like to meet him, since she now knew where he lived. The three of us piled into my father’s truck, as my car was in the shop, and she directed me across the river to a half-house apartment in the center of the small town that I now live. AZ met us at the door, disheveled and bleary eyed, in his underwear. *Laugh* He excused himself, leaving we three neophytes on his doorstep while he put on his blue and green bathrobe. I won’t ever forget that bathrobe. After donning his bathrobe, he invited us in. Me, being in the throes of heartache, immediately zeroed in on his massive CD collection and found a song which had just the right beat and lyrics to soothe my aching heart. The song was “Gimme Love,” the B side of the single “I’ve Got A Lot to Learn About Love” by The Storm, a Journey-esque band with a couple of former members of Journey in it. This was the time of Shotgun Messiah’s Heartbreak Boulevard, Skid Row’s second CD Slave to the Grind, Metallica’s Enter Sandman, Guns N Roses was singing about November Rain and we had started hearing new bands like Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam, and Nirvana. While AZ and Kelli sat together on the floor, Beki sat properly on the couch, I jammed out, dancing in his living room floor. It was very hard for me not to look at him. Long dark curly hair, and those eyes, those dark, deep set eyes, like pieces of onyx, and the look of a very hungry leopard. His look alone made electricity surge through my body. I was 21 years old. I didn’t know much, didn’t have a lot of experience with men, but I knew when a man was interested and he did little to hide it. After we got back in the truck, Kelli and Beki both remarked, “God, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you!” Kelli wasn’t upset. She figured he wasn’t much her type anyway and urged me to “go for it.” I said, “But he kissed you.” She said, “Yeah, but he was watching you, THE WHOLE TIME!” (These conversations are over 14 years old and I’ll remember them the best I can, but, yeah, this is pretty much what was said.) Regardless, I was still hurt over Red and our break-up and seeing Red everyday did nothing to assist me in moving along, but, I did hear AZ on the radio everyday, and that did assist in moving things along. One day in early March, I gave Red a ride to the tennis courts and I was sure it was over and my feelings along with it. That day, I left the tennis courts, drove across the river, and started searching for that little half-house apartment. It took me a while but I did and AZ was out in front detailing his car. My stomach was full of butterflies as I approached him. He smiled at me, remembered me, and we chatted while he detailed. After a while we went in the house, sat in the floor, listened to music, he played air drums, I sang, and we head-banged. And we kissed. . . . Next “14YW - 1992 - Vol. II”

A Tale of Two Men

Last night I was thinking about how much I write about Jeff and AZ. AZ and Jeff. Back-stories have been alluded to, old hurts, years of memories. I was just wondering if it would be worth it, at least for myself, to start at the very beginning and work my way through the last 14 and a half years (AZ) and 12 and a half years (Jeff). I have thought of doing it before. Could be a nice summer project. The good news is that Jeff gave me back a lot the letters and things I gave him during our relationship and I kept that for Nate so that when he is older, he will have something tangible from when Mom and Dad were together. I believe AZ has squirreled away every letter, card, photograph, note, and bar napkin I’ve ever given him. About five years ago, hell, maybe longer, I said it was a shame I hadn’t kept copies of the photos I gave him and as I now keep copies of letters I send him in electronic form, all the handwritten letters were lost forever. He said, “What makes you think I threw them away?” He’s mysterious that way. Wrestling those from his control is probably not possible. However, I do have my memories and I have a journal around here somewhere with some documentation of what happened when. Plus, if I get stuck, it’s not like I don’t have both men at my disposal to root through their brains. I think I should do it now before anymore time passes and the memories fade even more. So, who do I start with?

Rumination

Jeff is preparing for a hearing tomorrow dealing with issues relating to his disability. This precipitated him dragging out every legal document he has ever been given, including every letter and Order from my child custody suit. Interspersed among those documents were copies of his certifications from the police department, most of which I was aware of, but there was also a copy of a “Recommendation for Letter of Commendation” from Jeff’s former shift commander. It was dated in early 2000. Jeff said, “You know, it may not mean much to me anymore, but maybe my kids would like to see things like this.” The letter detailed how a call had gone out for a B&E in progress. Jeff had been the first on the scene, parking close enough to box the guy in, parking far enough away that the guy didn’t know he was there. Jeff got him on the ground and confiscated what appeared to be a semi-automatic weapon. The two other officers mentioned in the letter I know were close to be being rookies themselves and under Jeff’s direction canvassed the neighborhood, took statements from other individuals, and were able to ascertain the individual’s real identity as the crook has supplied false information. Come to find out he was wanted for a violent car-jacking and the supposed semi-automatic, which turned out to be a pellet gun, had been used in the commission of that crime. His shift commander specifically praised Jeff’s leadership, etc. I got a lump in my throat when I read it. I remembered the Jeff that I fell in love with and the fact that he no longer exists. I was still so very proud of him. I handed the letter back and I saw that he began reading it too. I looked away to the television and when I looked back, I could see the emotion on his face, the redness around his eyes, the look when someone is trying very hard not to become emotional. He finally put it down and said, “I have to stop reading.” I said, “I think your children would very much like to read that someday.” He nodded. There are more than a few reasons why Jeff is no longer a police officer. One is it just drove him crazy. Another is his former chief wanted the men on the department to turn a blind eye to his own son’s drug deals. When Jeff refused, the chief began targeting Jeff and there were a few guys on the department who went along with the chief and I know of one specifically who tried to cost Jeff his entire job. This officer is so obese that I could out run him in a pair of Brighton’s stripper shoes. Plus, I rode with him as a student rider and he was lazy and stupid, more lazy than anything. For a while, Jeff was the pariah of the department and although we weren’t together anymore, I knew what was going on and I worried for his safety. I literally worried that there were some out there who wouldn’t have his back. Eventually, three other higher ranking officers filed a grievance against the chief for his requests and harassment of the officers regarding his son’s drug dealing. The day the grievance was filed, the chief left the City Council meeting, went home and on his doorstep had a massive coronary. Those three officers were asked not to attend his wake or funeral. And that is life in small town U.S.A.

Which Way Did I Go?

Life can be confusing. This, I know. This whole thing about the shop and AZ and his reaction and the employees’ reactions. *Shakes head* See, the guys want me there, at least the two of them that realize that AZ seriously needs a break in his workload. However, I’ve warned them absolutely not are they to mention, which the dumbasses already have, that I’m cute, hot, sexy, built, or any other word to describe the fact that I’m woman in any way. Remember that whole spiel with Lex, AZ, and the jealousy thing? Yeah, jealousy can be a problem. The other problem could be that the guys don’t know me. They see a cute woman who might make the boss’s life easier but I don’t think they’re quite grasping the concept that if they dick around, it’s me who is going to be busting their balls. I wouldn’t be there to be “cute” I would be there to order supplies, work on advertising, sales, marketing, help with the printing, doing the books, and making sure they are doing their jobs. Them doing their jobs is one of the reasons AZ has to be there as frequently as he is. Two of the guys fight like bitches. One of the guys has all of these great ideas but... they cost time and money when they don’t work out. This is pissing AZ off. Yakking on the phone for an hour, pisses AZ off. Bringing your personal life into the workplace to the point it affects your job, pisses AZ off. So, as you can see, they’re spending a lot of their time pissing AZ off. I’m all for having a relaxed atmosphere where employees can meet their full potential. There is a line, however, between relaxed and working hard and dicking around. There are a multitude of things I would rather be doing than working so when I work, especially in a situation where there are deadlines, I expect people to pull their weight. When I look at the board, it’s all there in color what needs to be done and what the deadline is and what may be coming up in the future, orders that are on hold, orders that need artwork, screens need to be cleaned, some need to reclaimed, ink needs to be scraped, tools cleaned and put in order, screens burned and cured so they can be used the next day, supplies, especially shirts, need ordered. AZ hasn’t made up his mind yet about having me there. He calls me practically every evening that he has to leave me at the shop with the guys because he has other responsibilities and obligations to fulfill. This morning it was 1:15. We talked for an hour, even though we were both exhausted. He fell asleep on the phone with me. Luckily, he’s a light sleeper so I didn’t have to yell too loud to get him to wake up so he could turn his phone off. He had been awake 22 hours. I have to say though, I really enjoy our conversations. They are eclectic to say the least. One moment we’re discussing the shop, the next it’s other obligations we have, bits and pieces of our day, anecdotes (he heard why karma is a big fat bitch with a mustache last night), and then the sound of clothes being shucked off, and both of us lying in our respective beds. One night, whilst chilling out, I said, “We’re undressed, lying in bed, now we can sleep together.” And yet again tonight, another 45 minute conversation. And yet again, he fell asleep on me. I was at the shop from 12:40 until 7 and he stopped by to pick up a personal order he had done for a bridal couple. Let me tell ya folks, you see those pretty, pretty t-shirts with all the nice colors on them, you know, 5-7 different colors on one t-shirt, yeah, let me tell you how hard those bitches are to set up. Pain. In. The. Ass. Three and a half hours with two people working on lining it all up so you have a coherent design. Please appreciate it the next time you see one. If you own one, go hug it. You know, before AZ asked me why we keep coming full circle I had finally made a peace with it. I didn’t have to know, I didn’t have to understand, I didn’t have to have an explanation. For the most part, I still don’t. I try to live in the moment with him. Every moment may not be made in Heaven, frankly, a lot of people would think it’s closer to hell on Earth (just dial “hell” and I’ll answer - thank you “Elizabethtown.”). It’s not hell. But, damn, yes, it can be confusing, and damn, yes, sometimes I wonder. I wonder why he has a girlfriend and he’s falling asleep with me. Why am I the last person he thinks about at night? Why is my voice the last he hears before he falls asleep? Life can be confusing. This, I know.

Dear Diary

I was stood up on my date and then I went to the see that horrible movie, “The Break Up.” Honestly, what was the point of that movie other than to depress me? I know that part of my problem is it is very difficult to let people into my life and to trust people. AZ said I need to work on that. Like he is one to talk. Pot. Kettle. Black. This leads me to wonder though if I have pushed him away some how over the years. It would help if he would tell me. Vulnerability is not my strong point anymore, nor his. Perhaps we are destined to orbit one another, stuck in each other’s gravitational fields on elliptical orbits which bring us a breath apart and then sling us miles away from one another. Perhaps one day we’ll crash into one another and explode in large ball of dust and flame. It’s the best I can hope for now.

Things Are Looking Up

Okay, I’m feeling much better, now just back to being extremely busy. Saw AZ yesterday and talked to him three times. He’s graciously allowed me to apprentice, sort of, as a screen printer at his shop. In other words, I walked in, told him I wanted to learn, and I was also going to organize his office. I like screen printing much better than document review. AZ and I have talked about me doing some secretarial work, sales work, and learning the screen printing trade in the past and now I’m just lining work up for when this job ends. I also am applying for a part-time creative writing/research assistant position. I still have my beads and I have a demonstration set for August. I was even able to squeeze in a date yesterday. He’s very nice. We have another date this evening. Not sure if there is any spark yet, but we’ll see. My sinuses are still draining although the TMJ has abated for the time being, yet, I am still unable to turn my mind off and go to sleep at night. I think I miss a certain little boy. I think I miss that little boy a whole lot. AZ left the shop yesterday and I had a chance to talk to the guys who work there, who have known AZ as long or almost as long as I have and they were both very encouraged that I was there and were hoping that I was going to step in and relieve some of AZ’s workload. Good guys, both from where I grew up. One is actually the step-brother of a girl I ran around with in high school. Yet, as AZ has pointed out, they need a babysitter and that’s why he’s stuck there a lot. Heh. Enter Nanner. As one of the guys said yesterday, “Ya know, you could help answer phones, do sales, help with the printing, do the books, pay some bills, order supplies, and if we’re not really busy, you could do your beading at one of the tables. We could really use the help.” Cross your fingers that Nanner will have a more interesting job by the end of summer. Not to mention, I would get to work with one of my absolute favorite people in the world. I think the Lord and Lady are smiling on me.

When The Shit Monster Says, “BWAHAAHAHAHAHHAHA”

Nate is gone for the week to Washington, D.C., leaving me free to engage in debauchery without guilt. I started my period. My TMJ is acting up. I haven’t had much sleep. My house is still a disaster. I called AZ, and he’s not answering his cell. I have no beer.

"Let me not mourn for the men who have died fighting, but rather let me be glad that such heroes have lived."

After Uncle Ted returned home, there is another sizable gap in the remembrances of those around him. My father was only 3 1/2 years old when Ted returned, my grandfather and grandmother have both passed away. Only one person I know still alive would have any idea what the next 40 years held for Ted and I have not yet had the opportunity to speak with him. There was a rumor that Ted married and fathered a child before his wife grew tired of his ways and moved, taking the child with her and never returning. While Ted may have had a liking for alcohol before the war, he certainly took a great liking to it afterwards. Luckily, in our small rural town, the County Sheriff was one of his best friends and when Uncle Ted got too full in his cups, the Sheriff would “arrest” him, dry him out, and then make him cook at the jail. Also, if the jail got without a cook, the Sheriff would call Ted and have him come over and cook until another cook could be hired or located. A mystery of sorts surrounds his death. My father was present at the time and said that Ted was drunk, fell, and hit his head, killing him instantly. Ted’s death certificate said he “dropped dead, striking his head on a table as he fell.” As my grandfather died suddenly of a massive coronary, I’m inclined to believe the coroner, although medical technology just wasn’t the same then as it is now. Perhaps the worst part of this whole scenario, besides the fact my uncle died before I ever had an opportunity to know him or listen to his stories, was what happened after his death. My grandmother, a harridan on a good day, threw away everything she could lay her hands on that belonged to Ted, including all of his service medals. I’m surprised his discharge paper survived, maybe she didn’t know where it was or my grandfather squirreled it away for safe keeping. Regardless, until my father and I can get his record from the government and order his service medals again, hopefully putting together a nice memorial, this is the little I have to remember him by. Thank you, Jack for reminding me of the real meaning of June 6th. The title of this post and the previous post are quotes from General Patton.

"Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no one - for I am the meanest motherfucker in the valley."

My great-uncle Ted was a World War II veteran. He died when I was just a baby. Uncle Ted was a true hero, although an unsung hero of my entire family. I have attempted as best I can to piece together his war record. His discharge papers are not very accurate from the information I have received which is why it has been difficult to piece together his trek across Europe. I do know he was a member of the 738th Medium Tank Battalion (Special)(Company B) which trained at Camp Bouse in Arizona. The existence of Camp Bouse and the “special” tanks they had there was second in secrecy only to the atomic bomb. The special tanks had a light near the tank turrent which flashed much like a strobe light in the darkness, making it nigh impossible to shoot as the opposing force could never get a clear bearing on its position. Under threat of death and Leavenworth, the military personnel were not allowed to speak of it. Unfortunately, even after intense training, the tank was never used for its intended purpose and the lights only came on when barging into the Rhineland area of Germany. While the discharge papers state that Uncle Ted entered the European Theater of Operations (ETO) on the 2nd day of June, 1943, that would be impossible as he was training in Bouse, Arizona. Had he entered ETO in June of 1943, then he couldn’t have been wounded in Rhineland in February of 1943, now could he? Sources state that the Infantry divisions he was most likely attached to were in Rhineland in February of 1945, not 1943. Two of the special tank battalions from Bouse were supposed to be deployed on D-Day, however, they were not. More confusions sets in here. My father’s recollections of Uncle Ted’s war stories are very similar to his discharge papers which list the major campaigns he was involved in as Normandy - Northern France - Rhineland - Ardennes - Central Europe. However, an extremely abbreviated history of his tank battalion says they were never at Normandy, instead they debarked at Le Havre, France (well north of Normandy) and then entered Aachen, Germany, with Company A attaching to the 3rd Armored Division and then attaching to diverse units after that. It does not mention Company B. Perhaps Company B had entered at Normandy, I don’t know. I have found that keeping up with one platoon from one company from one tank battalion in World War II is next to impossible, especially not knowing what platoon Uncle Ted was in. Battalions, especially those in armored units attached and detached within weeks, days, or even hours. Sometimes the companies from the battalions split and sometimes the platoons from the companies from the battalions split. Uncle Ted was a tank gunner and because they weren’t using the tanks for what they were intended, the tanks became mine exploders, breaching and clearing mine fields while also providing combat support. Uncle Ted received two Purple Hearts and the Bronze Star. His unit received the Distinguished Unit Citation (or Presidential Citation - which is something like the Medal of Honor for a unit). He also received the European African Middle Eastern Service Ribbon. He returned home in the Fall of 1945 . . .

Mawhi-Mawhi and White Dressin'

People ask what my new job is like. It’s not exactly new anymore since I started on the Ides of March. In a nutshell, it’s The Breakfast Club revisited, there are just four of us instead of five and Principal Vernon has been replaced by an attorney. (Let us all observe a moment of silence for the recently departed Principal Vernon - Paul Gleason.) Our work is laborious and boring. Especially now that our team and the main headquarters team are slogging through boxes and boxes of paperwork doing privilege review. This entails sitting in a practically windowless room (the windows are at the very top of the room and only afford a glimpse of the blue clear sky if you stand due East at a 45 degree angle with your head tilted 90 degrees to the West with your back at a 15 degree angle with a half twist) and flipping pages looking for particular names and other sundries until your eyes cross and your neck feels as though there is whole box of documents sitting on it. In order to pass the time more quickly, Bender, Claire, Brian, and myself (Allison), share tales of our travels and travails, sing ass songs (My hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps), and attempt to find covert sexual innuendos in our paperwork (like nipples). Claire shared with us her college days job as a waitress at a local seafood restaurant where a customer came in and ordered mawhi-mawhi. She said, “We don’t have any mawhi-mawhi, but we do have some mahi-mahi.” I didn’t say she was nice about it. Another customer told her he wanted white dressin’ on his salad. She inquired, “Would that be the white dressin’ with chunks or without chunks cuz we have two white dressin’s.” He said, “I don’t want no chunks.” She said, “We call that Ranch.” Between that and Bender’s impersonation of the Buffalo Bill from The Silence of the Lambs - It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again - and Brian’s impersonation of Hank Hill from King of the Hill - That boy ain’t right - and the ass-biting, snarky zingers that fly from the four corners regularly, I guess it’s worth the 945,000 documents about nipples we have to review.

Sleeplessness

The past week I didn’t have much sleep. After attending the family reunion and sucking down bucketloads of pollen which aggravated my sinuses which then began dripping into my throat which then caused my tonsils and uvula to swell and get all kinds of gross gunk on them, I was unable to sleep well. One morning in particular, I had horrible lucid dreaming. If I’m having sex or fooling around, I don’t much mind lucid dreaming, but I wasn’t, I was fixing cars or watching cars be fixed, over and over and over. I only lucid dream when I drink Jim Beam or if I’m in some type of gnawing pain which isn’t painful enough to actually wake me, but painful enough that I’m half awake and attempting to dream at the same time. Then as I was beginning to feel half-human, I met this guy who is really interesting and smart and was staying up way too late chatting (among other things which would give my mother a heart attack) and then since Nate was at Jeff’s and this interesting guy is leaving for Afghanistan very soon, we decided we should meet and off I go. No, he’s not military, he’s an international contractor (having spent time at both the North and South Poles and several other foreign countries, I figure he can say that with all honesty). Anyway, it was a decent drive to where he was and then it was up early in the morning and I drove home and with all good intentions but that bed just looked too inviting. Upon waking at some point I realized I hadn’t eaten and watching simulations of how catastrophic an eruption of Mt. Rainier could be was not filling my gut, so I went to Applebee’s and had a nice quiet dinner, all by myself, with booze and dessert. I still had good intentions but watched an episode of “Forensic Files” when I heard it start thundering so I plodded outside to grab the comforter off the clothes line and of course the air cooled down and the wind picked up and the comforter was fresh. Not to mention, it was thundering, which we have all now determined is some type of sleeping draught for me, and I didn’t wake from my slumber until after 10. I was supposed to be stopping by T-Bird’s and she had called, although my phone was on the floor buried under some clothes, I guess I heard it and it woke me. So, now it’s 2:38 and I should be wide awake but it is one again, nappy time. Sweet dreams.

I Want You. . . To Be My Wife!

Jeff called this evening in all of his drug hazed glory and asked me to marry him, more than once. Yeah, I’ll get right on that. After I firmly refused his most appealing offer, he asked what I wanted, meaning “tell me how I can change to win your love, sweet NannerPeachyOne.” It’s kind of useless to tell someone in a drug haze that one shouldn’t have to change but be loved for who they are and even if by some strange stretch of the imagination, a serious head injury, nuclear holocaust, and Armageddon, it ain’t happnin’. I don’t like to say “never” but in this case I’ll capitulate and say nusquam ad infinitas. For you non-Latin speaking individuals, that means: nowhere, in no place, nothing, for nothing, never for eternity and evermore. If he could understand, I’m sure he’d ask, “Do you mean, ‘ever, ever’?” Let’s recall the last time I blogged about Jeff. I believe my parting words were, “If he were to lay prostrate at my feet on fire I wouldn’t piss on him.” Those are strong words, even for a Peach. So, I quoted one movie in the title and about half quoted another movie with the “ever, ever” line. Do you know which two movies? Isn’t life in Peachtown just a hoot!