Changing Seasons

With each day that passes, the seasons are changing a little. And then a little more.

And it’s not just the weather.

Yes, it’s starting to cool down into the 50s at night and when you leave the house first thing in the morning, the air has that End Of Summer feel to it. It smells like the greenery is starting to fade into yellows and browns. It’s starting to get more and more quiet; the bird songs aren’t quite as loud and even the cicadas are starting to be silent. Soon, that too will be gone and it will be that empty, quiet melancholy feeling while the world falls asleep for winter.

My older sister just asked me that the other day. “Does fall ever feel….sad to you?”

My reply?

“Every year.”

It just has the feeling the world is sad summer is over. The days are growing shorter and colder and the air is crisp and clear and silent. I think that’s the thing I miss most when summer is gone. The sounds. The birds move south and suddenly everything around you is quiet. There’s a peace to it, but there’s a feeling of an underlying sadness to me.

The world is just holding it’s breath, waiting for the first white snowfall to cover everything in its blanket for a winter nap.

And at the same time as the days grow shorter and the sun sets earlier, my life seasons are changing.

I’m getting married in sixty-eight, yes sixty-eight, days. Mom and I went for a walk the other night and I was saying how I didn’t want to leave home and everything I know, but every day I’m not around My Cowboy is worse than the one before. That not being with him every day doesn’t feel right and that something is missing and wrong.

I figured it would reduce her to a couple tears. Mom’s kind of that way. But instead she said, “I understand. He’s your home now.”

And he is. And I’m starting to transition. Trying to get as much of my stuff moved from childhood home to my new home. The home I’ll share with him.

His sister’s boyfriend was living in his basement all summer, so I didn’t want to move in too much and shove him even more into a corner, but now that he’s gone I’m hoping we can do a quick recon and clean the main room down there where I can have enough room to move more in. And at least stack it until I can find new “real” places for it to live from here on out.

Time is going to fly. Fast. And I don’t want to wait till the very end when I’m the most stressed about wedding day details and trying to move.

And yet, how do you know what to move and what you might need. And part of me feels bad about descending upon that little house down deep in the Sandhills and burying everything under my collection. (I don’t have a ton, but I’ve lived in my own apartments/houses before, so I’m well equipped.)

My Cowboy is fine with it, though. I’ve warned him it’s going to look like a lot until I integrate all of the stuff into its place for every day living. He knows. He understands. And, honestly, I don’t think he cares.

He’s as ready to have me with him every day as I’m ready to be there every day.

Last night we had our first pre-marital counseling session. There had been a slight snafu with that earlier. The pastor of My Cowboy’s church had been asked (by myself) to do our counseling since it would be “polite” for him to do it. He was supposed to call me back and after a couple months, never did.

Okay by me. I’ve never been really fond of that guy. So I asked My Cowboy about a couple in our church. They’re some of the most inspirational people I know. Extremely strong Christians and still infatuated about each other after 33 years of marriage. It was a go.

And then the other pastor told My Cowboy to have me call him (’cause apparently it’s too hard to be the bigger person and call me like you were supposed to!) We already had booklets from the other couple, they were already prepared to guide us. I won’t air laundry here, but I was pretty upset and told my fiance so.

Yes, I did overreact a little, but how do you tell someone, “Sorry, you’re too late.” And hope you don’t make things iffy for the rest of the family as he lives two miles away from my future home. Small communities, you know. It ended up I was upset and stressed out over nothing for it went over fine, he was going to be gone a lot etc., so long story short, he doesn’t get to counsel us. And then I learned My Cowboy wasn’t excited, thinking he would have to air all his secrets and personal life to complete strangers. That he would’ve preferred someone else. When he had said it was ok. So then I was hurt because I went through him and got the all clear, and then learned he has reservations about it, “but it happens all the time. I’ll get over it”.

Yeah, cause telling me that helps….talk about feeling like you let him down. But that’s why I asked this couple.

They’re so personable and caring and would be a great team to have on our side. Not just for counseling now, but for accountability later. To help us grow in our faith and in our marriage.

So I enjoyed it last night – I guess I want all the “help” towards a great marriage that I can get (not saying he doesn’t). My brain and life is ready for a challenge. Ready for something new. My Cowboy didn’t feel quite the same.

He enjoyed himself, talked with the couple very well, and loved the food, but as we were pulling out of their driveway onto the highway and I asked, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I got a, “It wasn’t that great, either,” as a reply.

….Straight through the heart….

I know he didn’t mean it quite that bluntly, but it kind of deflated me. He said that it wasn’t awful, but he doesn’t like things like that. Nor does he like having to read (we got to read a couple paragraphs out loud and a few verses). Not a big deal, but when you’re dyslexic and having to read for strangers, it probably is more stressful than I realize. “And there’s so much to do outside of the meetings…” [working through the workbook].

I understand where he’s coming from. When you hate reading and writing and you’re up from 4:00 am till past 10:00 pm working day in and day out to try and survive and make enough money to keep going one more year, something like working through a book and answering questions does seem like a waste of time. But if we “have” to go through this, hadn’t we might as well learn something and be challenged and not just watch a few videos and call it good?

And I know I’m taking it more personally than I should. Like it’s against me since I requested this couple. And he’s not meaning it that way. But my woman’s heart feels like if the workbook is too much work, does he think the actual marriage is going to be all sunshine and butterflies? Am I not worth going through a few chapters in a book?

And I am. And I know he thinks I am. I guess I just want him to be at the same place I am, which I know is unrealistic because we’re two completely different people with different personalities. I guess I’m just so ready for this. For anything that makes us feel closer to being married is exciting. It’s driving it home I’m going to me a “Mrs” in a little over two months. I’m ready for it.

I’m ready to fall asleep in his arms every night, and wake up with his kisses. To make him breakfast and even do his laundry. (Yeah, I’m twitterpated, I know.) But I’m so ready to be a wife.

I’m even ready for the challenges. I’m honestly excited for them because it means we’re a team. From here on out.

For learning something new about the love of my life every day.

For the misunderstandings.

Even for the fights.

And the making up afterwards.

Just to be married.

And it will be ok. I know and accept My Cowboy isn’t going to enjoy talking about our marriage with outside people as much as I do. It’s a wonderful difference between men and women. But I do have faith we will grow and learn from it.

And we’ll have the most wonderful marriage we possibly can.

Starting in sixty-eight days.

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Words, When Words Don’t Seem Enough

I need to write. I’m itching to write. My fingers turn towards the keyboard, towards my phone’s notepad, anything that will take down what I’m thinking.

But I don’t know what all I’m thinking.

There’s so much spinning through my brain that I don’t even know where to begin. If I just start writing aimlessly, I’ll spill my guts and write pages upon pages upon pages. So, I’ll try to summarize. Maybe get enough of whatever is built up inside me satiated and find the thing I need to write.

Last month was my dear friend’s court date for her divorce and child custody battle. Every evening I reread her letters and tried to commit certain facts to memory. It was like studying for college finals all over again – only with a much bigger stake than pass or fail.

The night before the trial, I drove down to My Cowboy’s ranch to spend the night there. I didn’t want to be alone before this – I needed encouragement and support. And a few of those great kisses didn’t hurt anything either. Yet, at the same time I sought comfort from the greatest love in my life, a piece of my heart broke for my friend. She had no one. All I was preparing for was to tell what I knew and I was a nervous wreck. She had to be questioned several times, by different people, listen to false accusations from others in the stand, etc. and she had no one to turn to beforehand.

I slept. I think. I didn’t feel like it, but the night passed. I stumbled from bed and sat on the kitchen counter in my t-shirt and running shorts while My Cowboy packed his cooler with water bottles and Gatorade in preparation for a day in the hayfield. I wanted every moment possible with him. He sent me back to bed for a little nap as he went out the door with kisses and sweet words. I think I dozed off for another half hour before starting my day. Shower, hair, makeup, clothes = check. I headed out and when I reached cell service, got a text saying my friend’s shoe broke on her way to the courthouse. She stuck it together with gum. Bubble gum. Honestly. You couldn’t make up the stuff this girl goes through.

I was so humbled that God had prompted me to pack an extra pair of black heels. Not the ones that are a tiny bit tight like I was planning on, but the black platforms that are tiny bit loose. The ones I’ve had purchased for a year and never worn. The ones just a half size smaller than what she wears. I can’t believe God uses little ol’ me to bless others like that.

Met up in the parking garage, swapped out a busted heel for a pair one could actually walk in. Got the lowdown of what was to be expected. Who did we see the minute we hit the open air out of the elevator? Yeah, the archenemy. I felt a shiver of disgust creep up my spine and did the thing girls usually seem to do. Duck into the bathroom.

In my defense, it had been a 3.5 hour drive straight through!

Then I sat in a courtroom lobby all afternoon. Thankfully, I had my friend’s sweet aunt to talk to for a couple hours. It helped pass the time and kept the vultures at bay. As soon as Aunt left, the opposing team started walking by extremely close to me and peering down at the notebook in my lap, looking through the courtroom doors I was sitting by, making snide comments. I should’ve told them I don’t intimidate easily. Especially when you wear shoes that flip and flop while you walk. And you have an old lady, saggy butt with cellulite paired with very sheer pants. I actually tried not to laugh more than once and used them to pass the time and give humor to the day.

One of the enemy camp made a pass at me and tried to make friends…I must’ve looked good – someone honked at me while I was gassing up my car on my trek over. An icy cold look and a shut-down line of all shut-down lines took care of that. He retreated to the other side of the room and stayed there.

I wasn’t called to testify that afternoon, but they did decide to keep me out of the courtroom in cause they needed a rebuttal the next day. I read a disgusting amount of US Weekly and People magazine. All several years old. Come on, people. At least provide decent reading material. Blast it all, I had forgotten my Game of Thrones book by my table at home.

After the day was over, we checked into our motel, giggling and dodging raindrops in our skirts and heels. I treated Friend to Red Lobster since she’d never eaten there before, then we wandered a mall to burn time (and buy new heels!) before returning to our home for the night. A few mindless episodes of Full House until My Cowboy called so I talked to him a little before crashing for the night. Funny how not doing anything but sitting can wear a person out.

More sitting the next morning, but I had brought my pre-marriage counseling workbook along and worked on some of that. Talk about an oxymoron. Working on that during a divorce hearing. Sat and listened to other individuals recount their trials with others outside their courtroom doors. The session only went to noon that day, so at 11:00 I was told I could at least sit in the room instead of in the lobby by myself. It was…interesting. Heartbreaking. Wishing I could throw things at certain individuals for what they did to my beautiful, innocent friend during her short marriage.

One more hour of final questioning and testimony, a wash of relief. It will be how it will be; we did what we could with the time given us and the final decision will be made no matter what we did. We celebrated with feel-good food full of grease (namely Taco Johns) and talked…me being filled in with the court going ons that I hadn’t been able to hear before since everything wasn’t finalized as of yet. Then a quick shopping stop for the brother in law and we headed our different directions. Her to her babies, me to My Cowboy.

I spent the evening with him, snuggled up watching a movie and making supper. As close to normal as we could get.

After that was off the board, I started the next step in wedding planning. Nearly all my envelopes are addressed, just waiting on stamps from the Post Office. These cards are no larger than any from Hallmark you would buy for a birthday, but they’re going to cost $0.70 to send. And they had to order those in. Ah, the joys of a small town. I’ve been harassing the postman every day and he says he expects them any day, which is why I harass him every lunch hour.

Last night was a bit frustrating. I had been nearing the end of the “premade” pieces I had done (I’ve been doing one entire job at a time before going on to the next step) so I counted, figured how many extra pictures I would need to send in to get printed, and got them ordered and on their way. While working through what I still had, I found a few extras I already had.

*whimper*

Granted, it wasn’t the pose I liked as well (My Cowboy had requested that one, so I went with it and ordered some) but there’s probably enough to have made it through without reordering any at all. Granted, they weren’t super expensive, but it was just another thing to have to worry about. Then I had to stop my assembly line to reprint some other pages. Again, not a big deal, but it was just one more thing I had to stop what I was doing and make more of.

I just want a project to be done. To be able to put stuff away. To have a semi-organized schedule. But there’s so many things just sitting and waiting to be done.

Stamps needed for the invites to be sent.

Pictures to be proofed so I can order and build/print my guest book.

Windows that need to be made for a craft fair in a month so I can hopefully make a bit of profit.

Designs and decals to be made for customers.

Plans to be made for weddings. Which can’t be done till RSVP’s start making their slow ways back.

A lifetime of 27 years packed up and transferred to a little house in the Sandhills.

Life to be lived.

None of it’s a big deal. There’s just so much little stuff I feel overwhelmed by. Little things that are just going to take patience to iron themselves out. And I suck at patience.

Plus I had a crappy day…week…past month at work. I’ve been shuffled to the back room to handle the shipping and receiving while the new idiot they hired was given my position at the parts counter. I’ve handled it for a month, but after talking to my parts manager who said we’d talk to the general manager about it, and he conveniently “forgot” (aka he’s a chickensh!t), I took matters into my own hand.

I requested my job back from the general manager and hit a brick wall. I got the entire load of b.s. about I’m pretty much too good for my job, and the techs requested me back there where they had easier access for me to get them parts, and it’s a learning experience for the new guy, etc. We all have to take turns and learn to cross train, blah-blah-blah. And to buck up and stick it out, that it’s not permanent, which doesn’t mean I get my position back tomorrow, but it won’t be three years. (Like h-e-double hockey sticks it won’t! Three months and I’ll find something else to do for livelihood in this tiny town of few options!)

It wasn’t mentioned how the new guy spends 98% of his time on his cell phone (in front of customers), and another 70% of time in the bathroom (on his phone, so they overlap each other). The rest of the time, he won’t listen and runs around like a chicken with its head cut off and not paying attention to anything anyone’s saying. Everything is something to panic about. To call him dumb as a box of rocks is mean to the rocks. He’s bounced from about 3-4 jobs in the past couple years, so I’m expecting him to continue this habit, but it can’t happen soon enough in my opinion.

But I have no faith in “managers”. They’re supposed to manage. If they know you’re upset, they don’t just “forget” and go on talking about their day and wanting your attention and grovelling to make you like them. Wrong move for that, Mr. I’ll just keep taking care of things myself since you’re no help.

Pretty bad when you get a “lower” job for being as good as you are at it. And, as normal, the dumbassery is rewarded…..