She Didn't Kill Me

If I've not mentioned it before, Momma tends to get quite ill when I head to Seattle.  She worries about me, about money, about whether I'm really going to marry this loser man.  For the record, Momma, I am going to marry this wonderful, funny, supportive, scary, intelligent equal.

Yay!

Anyhoo, I put off telling her as long as possible before I leave for vacation.  Because I'm brave that way.  This time she took it with a grain of salt, only asking when I'm leaving and returning and the motive behind this trip.  My answers were until and because I've saved up the money.

I do have my pound of flesh, however - I have to help her clean the third level of her house so her houseguest will be much more welcome.  I'm disappointed that I won't get to see her friend, but so glad that this didn't turn into WWIII.

Nothing left to do but clean, pack, move furniture, get my jewelry cleaned (I'm marrying a man who notices things like that) and arrange for airport transportation.  Keep your fingers crossed that I bring some sunshine with me to Seattle.  I get weird with sunshine after about three days.

I Am Not Special

A few weeks ago, before my personal national holiday, I was dreaming of getting an Android phone. Who doesn’t want one of those? (No comments from you Apple people, please. I am fully aware of the prior and ongoing superiority of Apple products.) I want one because I don’t have one and because it seems like everyone else I know has one and because they’re fun to play with and just because.

Currently Momma and I share a family plan, and we’ve found that the contract on it ends in April. So we went looking for what will work best for us. Of course I found a $250 phone (AFTER discount) and of course I could rationalize the $150 each month that this phone would cost not me. Momma was sitting down, letting me do my exploration, and when I went to talk about it with her, she kinda blew up.

“You know, I don’t even use this damn phone, and I’m paying for it!” Ouch. Not that a word of that isn’t true, but ouch. I asked her for a little time to explore my options, which she has granted.

GPOM and I have decided to get our own family plan, which will cut costs for both of us, and allow us to have unlimited minutes and texts. I really don’t need an Android, I don’t know how to use even the call feature on such a phone (I only recently found the ‘back’ button), and quite honestly, I can’t afford such a phone. GPOM and I will be content with calls and texts and picture messages for the time being.

To the point! I asked the sales lady at T-Mobile a quiet question about getting a new phone: There are, let’s say, ahem, uh…uh…uh…private photos on my phone that I don’t want to lose and I don’t want to be seen by the person transferring the data from the phone and SIM card to the new phone. She laughed and said, “Everyone asks that. EVERYONE. The transfer is done by computer and we never see a thing.”

I thought I was the only one!

At Least I'M Excited

Tomorrow's my birthday.  I like to think of it as a national holiday dedicated especially to me.  I really don't like people telling me that they know someone who shares my birthday.

There is no sharing on birthdays.  Because it's my national holiday, I get to make the rules.

I have cards and gifts on the mantle, and I'm excited to open them tomorrow.  Yes, I am one of those people who can get gifts and save them for my special day.  I don't understand those who have to open gifts immediately.  What's the fun in that?  What happens if nothing else comes on your national holiday and then you've got nothing new to open?  You've squandered a precious opportunity to be the master of your domain for just a few minutes.

Oh, and I got some new plug-ins today.  The place smells terrific!

Valentine's Day - In March?

You might remember that last year, I was sorely disappointed in GPOM's and my Valentine's Day.  This year, I told him well in advance that the day was coming.  What I finally received, LAST FRIDAY, was a package with a couple of novelties and the stuff I'd need to do his taxes.

ROMANCE.

GPOM got me a scarf and a bracelet.  I was terribly offended.  Really, can you imagine me in a scarf?  The bracelet I more understood, as it was hard plastic with dead bugs in it.  GPOM loves that sort of thing.  But, still, a scarf?  I fumed for the evening, and then talked with GPOM the next day.  He asked me if I liked the scarf, and I scattered around, trying to find a way to say NO NO NO while saying that yes, I did.

"Duly noted," was his reply and he sounded so disillusioned.

Later, he asked me if I sniffed the scarf.  As I had not, and it never occurred to me to do such, I told him so.  He told me then that he had scented it with his cologne.  Yeah, right, it came in plastic wrap, I thought, and went to bed.  The next morning I decided to test my theory and discovered that it smelled just as his Miracle does.  Not quite the same - let's be honest - because that scent meshes with his body chemistry and creates a different aroma.

But tonight I apologized, because I should never assume.  Nor should I add to those presumptions any sort of blame.  Tonight we're in a better place.  Honesty - scary.  Tough.  Sometimes too easy.  Lessons - good.  He loves me.

I might need your help to remind me to tread lightly, k?