A pinch of this, a pinch of that..mmmm, sure tastes good.
Walker and I have had a fairly rocky time together this past week. Couple that with the frustration of being so far away from each other...well...let's just say, it can create enough pent up energy and emotion to blow the top off a volcano that's been dormant for a zillion years. Course, this causes the "ash affect". Anything and everything in it's path will be touched as it scatters itself around on it's float back to earth.
Neither of us have been well this week. Besides the fact that I've been drowned thoroughly in PMS, my neck glands are up (having a spongey, swollen double chin does nothing to improve my demeanor). I have ear ache, and I've been coughing so much my throat is raw (I know this because I got Dr R to check me out at the end of my shift yesterday morning).
Walker has been very unwell, in fact he's been sick as a dog, hacking and coughing, having trouble catching his breath....sweating profusely (eww) with fever, his body's still healing and trying to recuperate from all the physical work of being cut and bent and pulled this way and that (not to mention a chunk the size of a golf ball now missing out of his side). Stacy, I know you'll appreciate it when I say, this is a man who is used to stitching himself up...what is it with some men? Is there a home doctor kit thingy us woman are unaware of?? The fact that he endured those days, to help earn more money to get to New Zealand is difficult for me to describe. It's tough enough hurting emotionally about the distance...it's another thing to hurt yourself physically to make it happen. It's a Catch 22. Yes I want him here...no I don't want him to get hurt....but I want him here....but I want him unharmed *sigh* Do I love him for going to such lengths? Incredibly.
Anyway, suffice to say, put all the above into a big pot, mix it together and what do you get? You get a mangled mess of emotional outbursts; going to bed upset and angry; slamming down the headset; swearing and cussing....and a fair amount of stomping around the house, slamming doors; bashing down pans on the stovetop....and that's just him. Yeah, yeah, ok, I think you know me well enough....that was actually me *blush*....no point in trying to deny it. Yeah, I was pissed. At one point Cameron found his mother in the kitchen, yanking out drawers, slamming down pots, wrenching open cupboard doors....looking for things she couldn't find through tears. Bless him for not asking questions, stepping into the tornado and gathering me close for a hug.
The way I've felt off and on over the past week, and with my sweetie so ill, I would've loved to be there to look after him, bring him some hot chicken soup or something. At times I was trembling with frustration that I wasn't there to drop that bowl, heavy with soup, on his toe...only to fall to my knees apologising profusely...pick it up again....and throw it across the other side of the room to have it smash into pieces against the wall. Yeah, "OPA!" that then eh?. Betcha I could get that Greek smashing plate thing down to such a fine art, I'd show 'em a thing or two, I would.
We all know that there are upsets and arguments between loving couples. How they're dealt with is the important thing. Two people, both with strong personalities, both passionate about different subjects they strongly believe in and both prepared to fight furiously to try proving a point...well, that's a pretty solid recipe for the clashing of the titans. But..that's also the recipe for ...two people, both filled with the fierce determination of being in the same space at the same time...both aching continuously to be able to touch each other again...and both dying to put that spark back together to build up an inferno hot enough to rock their worlds.
For 90% of the time our relationship flows smoothly...we're like a well-oiled machine, all the cogs fitting into the right places, jugging along at the right speed, everything working in sync. 8% goes to the frustration of the distance between us....and the remaining 2% is due to sheer pig-headedness and stubborness coming to the fore. But what can he do? He loves me despite that anyway.
Now about that chicken soup bowl thingy.
Come sit beside me dear.
I want to trail my hand down your weary leg...pick up your foot...and kiss your toe better.
I'll leave you to clean up the mess if that's alright...you know I wouldn't want to ruin my manicure right?
Neither of us have been well this week. Besides the fact that I've been drowned thoroughly in PMS, my neck glands are up (having a spongey, swollen double chin does nothing to improve my demeanor). I have ear ache, and I've been coughing so much my throat is raw (I know this because I got Dr R to check me out at the end of my shift yesterday morning).
Walker has been very unwell, in fact he's been sick as a dog, hacking and coughing, having trouble catching his breath....sweating profusely (eww) with fever, his body's still healing and trying to recuperate from all the physical work of being cut and bent and pulled this way and that (not to mention a chunk the size of a golf ball now missing out of his side). Stacy, I know you'll appreciate it when I say, this is a man who is used to stitching himself up...what is it with some men? Is there a home doctor kit thingy us woman are unaware of?? The fact that he endured those days, to help earn more money to get to New Zealand is difficult for me to describe. It's tough enough hurting emotionally about the distance...it's another thing to hurt yourself physically to make it happen. It's a Catch 22. Yes I want him here...no I don't want him to get hurt....but I want him here....but I want him unharmed *sigh* Do I love him for going to such lengths? Incredibly.
Anyway, suffice to say, put all the above into a big pot, mix it together and what do you get? You get a mangled mess of emotional outbursts; going to bed upset and angry; slamming down the headset; swearing and cussing....and a fair amount of stomping around the house, slamming doors; bashing down pans on the stovetop....and that's just him. Yeah, yeah, ok, I think you know me well enough....that was actually me *blush*....no point in trying to deny it. Yeah, I was pissed. At one point Cameron found his mother in the kitchen, yanking out drawers, slamming down pots, wrenching open cupboard doors....looking for things she couldn't find through tears. Bless him for not asking questions, stepping into the tornado and gathering me close for a hug.
The way I've felt off and on over the past week, and with my sweetie so ill, I would've loved to be there to look after him, bring him some hot chicken soup or something. At times I was trembling with frustration that I wasn't there to drop that bowl, heavy with soup, on his toe...only to fall to my knees apologising profusely...pick it up again....and throw it across the other side of the room to have it smash into pieces against the wall. Yeah, "OPA!" that then eh?. Betcha I could get that Greek smashing plate thing down to such a fine art, I'd show 'em a thing or two, I would.
We all know that there are upsets and arguments between loving couples. How they're dealt with is the important thing. Two people, both with strong personalities, both passionate about different subjects they strongly believe in and both prepared to fight furiously to try proving a point...well, that's a pretty solid recipe for the clashing of the titans. But..that's also the recipe for ...two people, both filled with the fierce determination of being in the same space at the same time...both aching continuously to be able to touch each other again...and both dying to put that spark back together to build up an inferno hot enough to rock their worlds.
For 90% of the time our relationship flows smoothly...we're like a well-oiled machine, all the cogs fitting into the right places, jugging along at the right speed, everything working in sync. 8% goes to the frustration of the distance between us....and the remaining 2% is due to sheer pig-headedness and stubborness coming to the fore. But what can he do? He loves me despite that anyway.
Now about that chicken soup bowl thingy.
Come sit beside me dear.
I want to trail my hand down your weary leg...pick up your foot...and kiss your toe better.
I'll leave you to clean up the mess if that's alright...you know I wouldn't want to ruin my manicure right?
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