I went to bed last night around 2ish and crawled in bed with Mr. G. Rare. Usually I sleep on the air mattress because of my hip, but I was worried about the whole world situation and how I should handle it. In contrast Bush is probably sleeping like a baby, all snuggled up with his teddy & his binkie. I flipped and flopped about 45 minutes and finally Mr G rolls over and says, "What's wrong? Why aren't you sleeping?" I said, "Honey, I'm worried about the economy." And in his wonderfully comforting way, he says, "Quit worrying. I have to get up for work in about an hour. You can resume worrying about it then." But then he kissed me, snuggled me close and said, "Go to sleep. We'll talk about it when I get home from work." Ever since we were first married, if I'm scared about a situation, all I need from him is for him to say HE'S not worried about it and then I can relax. Yes, I have that much (blind) faith in the man. He's my rock for a reason, ya know. My friend David is the same way. If I talk to him and he tells me its ok, then I believe it. They're the only two men in my life that make me feel that way.
I had to literally push Holly outside this morning. The sun is shining and it's a gorgeous fall day in Pennsylvania, but for the first five or six days that I'm off this dawg sticks to me like glue. THEN on Thursday, when it's almost time for me to go back to work, she'll want outside. Friday she didn't go outside until 1:30 in the afternoon and she hadn't peed since 4 a.m.! That gurl has the whole bladder control thing goin' on. What really gets me is when I'm working this Sunday, without a doubt at some point Mr. G will call me and say, "Holly's been outside ALLLLLLL day." Grrrrrrrr!!
(12 a.m.) "once i was a boogie singer...playin in a rock and roll band..."
Ooooooo I am soooooo drunk on disco music right now. Mr. G went to bed early, so I slapped on my headphones and my Pure Disco 2 CD and I am dancing my BA-HIND off. I've been working on my novel since Friday--one night till four a.m.--and it's coming together well for me, so I was happpeeeeeeee. That high, combined with the lilting tones of "Macho macho man, I've got to be a macho man!" put me in a fine mood. All I need are a couple gay guys to dance with me. Holly keeps doing that confused dog thing. You know, where they tilt their head from side to side and look at you as if you've lost your friggin' mind?
"everybody get on the floor, let's dance....don't fight the feeling, give yourself a chance.."
There's an idiot over on the COPS forum who makes me laugh. Some jerk posted his thoughts about female cops and they were less than stellar. I commented on his comments, and now this idiot chick keeps jumping all over me as if I made the comments. She's obviously thicker than a four by four, and instead of just admiting she's posting to the wrong person, the twit keeps digging herself in deeper and deeper. I know it's wrong to be amused by people's stupidity and yet I am. Go figure.
"for the first time in history it's gonna start raining men...it's raining men..."
Shit. I can't believe three days of my seven are gone already.
They zip by so fast, even when I try to stay up late and get up early.
What fun it would be to be so wealthy that I could stay home and write all the friggin' time.
I swear I sat down at the computer this afternoon around 3 and then next thing
I knew it was going on 8. It felt like five minutes had passed.
"last dance last chance for love......yes it's my chance for romance tonight."
My stomach churned when I listened to Bush talking about how much all this reconstruction is going to cost. If terrorists or even the weather drops another hit on us, how in the world will our economy sustain it?
We are so overextended with the war in Iraq, and the N.O. reconstruction may cost close to $200 billion.
It's all very frightening.