Yesterday was a fun day. It got hard at the end of it, but it quickly got better, thanks to Tom.

After we had fun, ate, and got dressed, we went over to Ma’s. First, though, we checked out a few nearby motels that looked suitable for my folks. We’re going to be calling them within the next few days.

Ma looked good. She still has trouble talking, but otherwise, she seems to be her usual self. No one was there when we first got there, so we just hung out while we were waiting for the motor of Ma’s car to cool down. Tom had to fix a leak in it.

We were there for about 4 hours and as usual, it was very noisy with kids, and dogs and I swear I heard bass banging by about 10 times while I was there.

Ma and David came in shortly after we arrived and of course, Ma had to go on and on all about Parker, Nickolena, David and Evie. That was her primary source of conversation, to whoever was at the house, to whoever was on the phone. This didn’t help my failing mood. Between the Aerobid and the PMS kicking in, I was fighting tooth and nail to hang onto stable emotions. It’s not her fault and others deserve to be happy and have kids, even if I can’t, but I was reminded of what I can’t have all day and it hurt. I managed to keep it together, though, but when I came home, that was a different story. I’ll get into it later.

First, though, besides hearing all about the baby, Tom helped her with her bank statements, then he and I went to the store to get something for the car and me some lunch.

Then David left to go see Evie and Parker at the hospital.

I picked out a picture of Jennifer she offered, then we talked about sign language. I showed her some signs and some letters.

On and off I played games on her computer and did some puzzles. Ma did some puzzles, too.

She had a big bag of paperback books that Bobby got from the bookstore he works at. I thought they’d be mostly romance books, as they usually are, but she had a lot of thrillers and supernatural suspense stories I liked, so I picked out about 10 books. I was psyched and I’m already nearly halfway through one of them. They’re smaller than the big, small print Koontz and Saul books I read.

Meanwhile, Tom had begun working on the car. He had to go to the store again for a car part when Mary and Dave showed up to take Ma to the cemetery to put flowers on Dad’s grave. We all chatted for a while, and teased Ma about how she kept saying, “Do you hear what I see?” Then they left shortly after Tom came back and finished the car before we came home.

After hearing about babies all damn day, hearing so many kids, coming home to a set of baby commercials on the tube that Tom had thrown on, it was making me sick. My heart was racing and Tom lovingly slowed it down and I poured out not only the usual things that set my emotions off, but something else I realized about God.

Before I get into it, though, Tom really made me feel better and made this so much easier to deal with and I felt better so much faster. It wasn’t as bad as that 3-4-day bad spell I had last month. Maybe it’s cuz we know now, that the Aerobid, along with the PMS, doesn’t help me and it enhances the things that are never-ending, major issues for me. He’s sure that Rugg and Rauche will do something about the Aerobid ASAP. They better, cuz at 106-108 pounds and the way I’ve been mentally, I need a new inhaler fast. I found one of my old Azmacort inhalers in the linen closet and have been taking that till I see Rugg.

Anyway, we all know that very familiar and very true saying: Life isn’t fair. Well, not only did I realize a long time ago that God doesn’t love us all equally and that some of us he loves, some of us he likes and some of us he hates, but that God has certain standards for different people. Like I said, some of us can get away with murder, even get rewarded for it, but some of us get punished for just sneezing. In God’s eyes, I know that homosexuality in general and murder aren’t wrong or bad. He loves murderers, otherwise there wouldn’t be any in this world and a lot of them wouldn’t get off scot-free. If God can do anything, you’d think he’d have anything he hated not exist (unless it was a person he hated, but not a type of person). I’m sure I’ll never know why God is the way he is and why he treats people differently, but I realized something new about him that pertains to me and my life. If only I saw the pattern and caught on years ago. Cuz then, I wouldn’t have stepped out of line and maybe things would be different today; even better. Well, like I said, gayness, in general, is OK by God, but not for me. I looked back and saw the pattern and it all made sense. Just like it took me years to understand why the NHA was stalled and to understand a series of events over a handful of years, it took me years to figure something out that I just did. Too many years. I’m sure there are plenty of things I’ve done that pissed God off and I know I was sterilized before I was born, but since God can do anything, maybe he could’ve made my plumbing work if I’d realized long ago that he didn’t want me to be with a woman. Whether it was for one night or a Miss Right, it was a no-no for me as far as God was concerned. God wasn’t just telling me he didn’t want me with women and that he wanted me with a guy, by having so many women reject me and by so many guys hitting on me. He was also trying to tell me that for me, being with a woman was a very serious sin and a no-no. In his eyes, he wanted me to do what most women do and most women go with guys. And now, despite the DES, cuz I abused my body in his eyes and didn’t use my body the way he wanted, he’ll never allow me to use my body the way I want (to have a baby). After thinking about it, I realized that with each woman I was with, things got steadily worse. After Diana, Kacey and Lisa, things got worse. After Brenda, the bad cycle of asthma attacks began. After Anne Marie, the NHA shit went down.

Then when I came here, I was in heaven. A heaven I thought would last despite my financial hardships and problems with neighbors. I didn’t know it was just a tease. He wanted me to have a taste of a happier life, only to take it away and make me want it back so damn bad.

Then there was that night with Julia. After that, I realized Scott fucked me over and had to deal with that and the Mile High getting deader and deader.

Tom, Andy and I are perfect examples of how God can love, like or hate certain people. He hates me for the most part. Not the worst kind of hate or else he’d have never blessed me with my musical and artistic abilities.

He likes Andy. It’s OK for him to be gay. He can get away with pranks (God never took away his sleep for waking up people for years on the phone in the middle of the night, like he did with me). He’ll get away with the grocery store scam, unlike I could ever do so. I’d have to pay dearly for it. But he’s had a hard life and is deliberately doomed to always be partnerless.

God loves Tom. Now here’s a guy who had a wonderful and normal childhood, with a normal family. He can have or do just about anything he wants and if he can’t, no hard feelings. He can deal with it, unlike me. God blessed him with being able to deal with things and with having the power and control over not only recognizing a problem he may have but with being able to solve it. With me, I can recognize a problem, but more than most of the time, I’m not able or allowed to solve it.

So, if God wanted us all to be the same, we’d all be the same and life would be fair. We’d all look the same, do the same things, there’d be equal justice and we’d all have the right to have kids.

Then Tom came up with a plan that had me feeling mixed emotions from happiness, eagerness, doubtfulness, and even a bit of anger and feeling like I was being played with, tricked and bullshitted just to make me feel better and tell me what I wanted to hear. His plan is absolutely and totally 100% impossible. You see, he’s now gonna squirt several days in a row (mostly around the right time frame), and I’m gonna get pregnant. On a scale of 1-10, he said it’s a 10 that he’ll squirt for at least 3 days when the time is right and it’s a 9 as far as me conceiving. Bull fucking shit! I hate it when my realistic, logical, practical, intelligent husband acts like he’s none of these things and kids himself and me with things that are as impossible as us making money appear with our minds. Who does he think he’s kidding? There’s a very fat line between reality and fantasy and what he’s talking about doing/happening is pure fantasy. Then I reminded him that he said he hates to put pressure on himself and expectations and that things like this take away the fun of sex and make him feel like sex is one big job. A total chore. Well, I not only don’t want him to bullshit me to try to make me feel better, but I don’t want him to put any pressure or hardships on himself and spoil any fun for him. He insisted, though, that he wants to do this and that it can be done. Right! We’ve been down this road a million times. He sets this bullshit thing in his mind that can’t happen and tells me he’s sure I’ll get pregnant from it. I’m sick of these kinds of bullshit stories and things we’re supposedly gonna do that we can’t. It’s like - why doesn’t he just tell me he’s gonna crawl along the ceiling, grow an extra set of arms and legs, snap his fingers and make the refrigerator float and that it’ll get me pregnant for sure?