Speaking of Drugs ...

Yesterday morning while I was taking Gus out for a walk, the little guy picked up something off the ground, something he does all too often. When I scolded him and it fell to the ground, I noticed it was a teeny tiny baggie filled with a white powder substance. Yeah. Now, I'm typically an "every-man-for-himself" kind of girl, so I picked it up and sort of threw it out of the way, hoping that Gus wouldn't sniff it out and find it again. Or that some child - and there are several who live in our complex, I might add - wouldn't noticed it on the ground.

Last night, as Mike was taking Gus to the bathroom again, the little guy found it - again - and picked it up in his mouth. This time, he didn't drop it when Mike scolded him, and Mike had to pry his mouth open (a common occurrence on daily bathroom walks) to get it out. When they came back inside, we decided to call the cops, who came and took the baggie filled with white powder substance. Mr. Policeman said it appeared to be meth, but that he'd have to have it checked out. If it does turn out to be meth, we'll have to file a police report.

For the record, there are several young children who live in our complex, many dogs whose owners let them roam free around the greens, and our apartment complex sits right across from a middle school. Reality people. In your back yard.

Pondering the 'M' word

So, I've been thinking a lot about the 'M' word lately. I mean, I'm a girl. Technically we're thinking about it from the first time that we meet a guy. But back to the point. I went to a wedding a couple of weeks ago and found myself wanting to get married. Normally at weddings, I'm like, "Oh, that's nice ... for when I get married." And this time I was really wanting it more.

So it got me to thinking (love that phrase, btw!) about what it means to be a spouse. I mean, if I'm serious about marrying this boy, I'm going to be serious about the meaning of marriage.

To me, marriage sort of makes that other person your other half. As in, whenever you need anything - whether it be physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually - you go to them first. A spouse is supposed to be your rock when those things fail. And so, if I'm thinking about marrying someone, I want to make sure that they are going to be able to supply all those needs (because I'm pretty sure that in a lifetime of marriage, you're going to need help with one or all of those at some point).

And so, alas, this is what my mind is fondling with now.

One-Way Streets and Conversations

Why is it that my best blog ideas come at the most inopportune moments? Take, for instance, this morning when I made a left-hand turn onto Louisiana and noticed that the street was now a two-way instead of a one-way, meaning that I now can't speed around all the other cars like a crazed woman, barely missing the red lights, so that I can get up to work by 9:05 a.m. instead of 9:06. And I'm wondering, as I listen to the oldies, if the car in front of me is watching my head turn from side to side and realizing that I just noticed the newly-painted double lines.

Or take, for instance, the time when I'm sitting on the couch watching TV on a restful Saturday afternoon and I realize that I am now having a one-way conversation with my dog (unless you count his slight head-tilts as a show of understanding) about why he hasn't pooped all day.

Or the way that I explain situations to people in my head and make them feel what I feel by my words alone, only to forget that phrase (she looked bluntly bare with her wet skin lying on top of his) or that specific description (of the strawberries dripping sweet beads of wet chocolate down the lavender-colored wedding cake) when I sit down at my computer to write. It's like I need a typewriter on hand that will take down my blog thoughts and descriptions at times when I can't, like when I'm sitting in the back corner of a bar watching the fluidly movements of a blonde woman, penis bouquet in hand and veil on head, try to get down from the stage after grabbing a barman's crotch during a vulgar dance rendition of Three Dog Night's "Joy to the World."

I swear, it's like a phenomenon.

The wheels of the plane are taking off, and I'm scared

So, after digesting all of that about Mike's job, it just hit me that times might be a'changing soon.

I wonder if this is supposed to be the me "Happy that things seem to be taking off" moment or the "Scared shitless" moment or the "Running away" moment or what.

Well, I'm not running away. Let me start with some background.

I got it into my head yesterday that it was time for me to start looking for a house. I mean, I've lived in Little Rock for three years and I seem to like it. I mean, I've stayed, haven't I? You know how sometimes you just know things? One of the passages that I read in the Bible recently was one that I colloquially refer to as the "A Time" passage. "There is a time to be born, and a time to die..." Sometimes you just know things, right? So I thought to myself yesterday, "I need to start looking at houses."

A couple of weeks ago (or maybe it was last week), I started thinking to myself, "Yeah, I think I might be getting ready to get married." You just know those things, too, right? I mean, I have postponed marriage thoughts and subsequent actions as long as I can because I've always thought, "I'm just not ready." Now I think I might be getting closer to the "ready" part. Maybe not 100%, but a heck of a lot closer than I've ever been. And I might add, I'm not as scared as I thought I would be.

Well, now Mike is getting this new job. And it might be difficult for me to handle his finances if we don't have some sort of extra bond other than just boy-girl bond. Which is no reason to get married, I might add, but I'm just throwing some balls at you, so to speak.

So - and I'll be the first to tell you that I could be way wrong about this - but it seems like the wheels of the plane that has been firmly grounded for years are finally starting to shake up and take off. And I'm scared. The kind of nervous you get in your stomach right when the plane takes off, which usually subsides once you're on level clouds in the air.

Everything is all in due time.

Whoa

So, I just got a call from my lovely boyfriend about a job that he is likely going to get. Let me give you some background. Mike works in the oil and gas industry. For the past three or four months, he's been trying to get a job that would more than triple his income. The guys who have the say-so have been telling him that they'll keep him in mind, that he's next in line, etc., etc. Well, today one of them tells him that he's definitely going to get the job, and it will probably be next month.

Now you're thinking: "Why aren't you jumping up and down with joy? You won't have to work!"

Well, not so fast. In this job that he will likely get, he will only work 1/2 the year. ("Well, that's just gravy!" I can hear you say.) Only thing is, he'll work 7-on, 7-off; or more likely, 14-on, 14-off. Which wouldn't be an issue except for the fact that he'll be gone on those "on" days. "So NOW we're getting somewhere," you say.

Mike has already told me that he wants me to handle the financial aspects of this job - which is great because I like to manage money. Especially if I have it. :) Seriously though, I can do that. He's also told me that he doesn't expect me to work. He actually wants me to stay at home. (You're thinking, "What's the problem?" right?) Well, there are a couple of things that I'm concerned about.

1: I'm scared. I don't know how to handle that much money. I don't know how to do quarterly business taxes. I run from that stuff. And I would hate to mess it up. So I'm in the process of scoping out accountants as we speak. (Or as I write.)

2: I don't want him gone all that long. I mean, 7 days wouldn't be bad. I think I could handle that. But 14 is a stretch. I am really scared of that because I'm worried about what kind of commitment that will be. I mean, this is the guy that I've been thinking I might want to marry someday. So I'm thinking more long-term. Like, what if we have kids? How much will I want him to be home then?

And so I'm stressed, to say the least. I was just going to talk to him about this last night, too.