“What’cha Been Doing, Pissy?” As a Matter of Fact…

This is just a little update to let you know what’s been going on with Pissy, lest you think I’ve succumbed to life’s pressures, gone completely mad, and fled to the quiet of the mountains where I spend my days mumbling incoherently over a bottle of Jack Daniels. Nope! I’ve actually been doing quite well, thank you very much, and have just been spending my time trying to find my center. The key, I found, is to stop running around trying to dodge the obstacles that are being hurled at you, and instead use them to build a damn fortress to protect yourself. I got as far as working on the tower before the threat receded, and was more than willing to start hurling shit back upon completion. Good thing the Old Man started waving the white flag or he would’ve looked patriotic as hell bearing red and blue marks on that fair skin of his.

Yep, it takes a lot for Pissy to have her fill, but she reached her limit. Had myself a wonderful consultation with a female attorney—who I knew was a keeper, because I spied ink on her shoulders around the back of her tank top—and after being assured that my quality of living would only improve if I proceeded with a divorce, went home to start getting my affairs in order. Well, after Kristy took me to have cocktails first and I proceeded to get stinking, rotten, drunk. Ya gotta do that sometimes. What a friend! What a friend! Since, I’ve just been allowing things to run their course. I put seven pieces of leather on Craigslist to obtain a bit of money so I can file (not one freaking bite so far), have been waiting for my credit report to arrive in the mail from all three of the major credit reporting companies to see just where I stand, and have been taking inventory of personal and marital assets. I’ve also spent a lot of time online looking at rental and foreclosure properties, because Pissy will have to find new digs, and is particular about the kind of litterbox she shits in. Things ‘appeared’ to be moving smoothly along.

The Old Man seemed agreeable with all this, but now appears to be having a change of heart. I’m not so naïve that I don’t question whether it’s love, or just the fact ‘it’s cheaper to keep her’. It makes no nevermind to me either way. I know what I want, I know what I deserve, and I know what I’m entitled to, and it doesn’t matter how I get it, only that I do.

A wife is entitled to and deserves a bit of financial independence, no matter whether she financially contributes to the marriage, or simply makes her contribution as a homemaker. She should be encouraged to actively pursue her own interests, friendships, and any goals she may have. She should be given the respect of having an opinion on how the house is run, the bills are paid, and on all major purchases. She should be given the courtesy of being able to communicate when she needs to. She deserves and requires love and attention. She is not a servant that is there to simply cater to her husband’s needs, a trophy he occasionally takes off the shelf to admire and show off to others, a gadget he tinkers with when he’s bored, or a therapist he uses to dump on about troubles with family, friends, or work. A husband does not own his wife, she is someone that chose to love him, stand by his side, pick up after him willing, and listen to him because she considers him her best friend. Any confusion about this and a man shouldn’t be married. And if you’re a wife who doesn’t have these things, kick and scream till you get them, because they are as vital to your well-being as the air you breathe.

Fortunately, I don’t have the problems that many do so my marriage could be salvageable with nothing more than just a little compromise. I guess the ball is in his court. Lately I’ve been seeing sincere effort on his part, so there’s the distinct possibility that a divorce may be averted. Any-hoo, the jury is still out as to whether I’ll remain a missus or not, but you can be sure no matter what that Pissy’s life is changing for the better.

The Midwest heat has been terrible this summer. Like living on the surface of the fucking sun, I kid you not. Given that I’m prone to sunburn easily anyway, I’ve been nesting in the air for the past couple of months. Apparently all this ‘cozy-time’ indoors has affected the dogs as well, because Bon Bon and the Lil Girl are now expecting puppies in the next couple of weeks. Good thing we have several family members that want puppies or I’d be playing the part of the Old Woman in the Shoe. ((shudder)) We’ve already decided after this first litter, that the two of them are both going in to get fixed. No more tempting fate. They are just going to have to figure out how to get their ‘slap and tickle’ on another way.

Jud is still sitting in the joint awaiting a bed to come available in the halfway house, if you can believe it. Geeze-Louise…he was released on paper back in May! If I were him I’d be livid and shitting purple twinkies with anticipation. Fortunately, he’s taking it better than his Ma would, because he’s riding out the time without throwing a tantrum. Not an easy task, I assure you. The guards in that place are assholes, and would turn even the most stoic person into a psychotic postal worker. I think what’s getting both of us through is the ‘knowing’ that eventually when he gets out we can be a family again. It’s been a very long haul.

I sit here as I key this and realize that Summer is nearly Spent, Fall is right on my doorstep, and I have nothing to show for these past few months: No color to my cheeks, no gossip to share of interesting weekends, no…well…nothing! My fiftieth birthday is quickly approaching; I thought I would leave my forties with a bang, and close as I can tell it only resembles a 4th of July, sparkler. WTF? I need to get my ass in gear and make something happen. ((sigh))

I’m fully aware that a big part of this problem has little if anything to do with me or my desire to have fun, but more about my obligation to these dogs that the Old Man insisted we get. And before I hear mutterings from the crowd of dog lovers out there, let me assure you, I love my kids, I take very good care of them, and I don’t blame them for their neediness; I blame him. The agreement was last year when we purchased Bon Bon after Sully passed, that the Old Man would actually partake in the raising of this new one, where he hadn’t the others. Then of course, after Hound Dog got eaten up by the monsters in the woods, we got Lil Girl so that the very energetic, Bon Bon would have a playmate. I had stressed that I really didn’t want more dogs but was willing to take on the responsibility again to appease my husband, if he would pull his share of the weight. Nearly a year later I find myself worse off than I was before, because the Old Man works out of town all week and I’m left here to care for them alone.

I literally feel as if I’m in a prison and they are my guards, and admit that this is not how I saw myself approaching my fifties. I remember a time not so long ago when I was still working the bar, when I would sit and dream about what my future would hold once all my children were out of the house and on their own. I had all these plans of living alone and only having to pick up after myself, of not having restrictions placed upon me about what I chose to do, where I went, and how long I stayed when I got there, because I no longer had an obligation to anyone. I saw myself traveling, maybe taking some college courses, and spending oodles of time with friends. I saw myself happy. Dare I say that’s not the picture that is presents itself now? I feel as if I’m once again mothering toddlers, and every decision I make concerning what I do revolves around their care. I’m finding it incredibly suffocating and have become bitter at my husband for taking away my options. To be honest, there are times when I feel compelled to leave this marriage, for no other reason than just to get my freedom and sanity back. This ill will has spilled over into and affected every area of my life, and I’m afraid has been the contributing factor in my not being able to write or blog. I’ve hesitated to lay down any words, because I knew that the only thing that would spew forth from my brain would be poisonous drivel. Today, I guess, I decided poisonous drivel was better than complete absence, so I’m writing anyway. So now you know.

I’m enclosing a couple pics of the pups taken while they were out swimming at the pond. I had no idea that Labs instinctively fetch without any training. Who knew? Now if it were only that easy to train a damn man!

Bon Bon and Lil Girl taking a dip in the local pond.

They love to play ‘fetch’ with daddy.

“My turn to return the stick.”

Is that a good looking dog, or what?

A pic of Lil Girl frolicking in the water before springing on us that we’re going to be grandparents.

Love you all!

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