It’s now my favorite time - Sunday evening. It’s also about time I got updated in here, too. Let me get our beautiful neighbors out of the way first. I could’ve said it was a peaceful weekend, until 4 hours ago at 4:00 when he based out. He returned quietly, so he wasn’t telling me he was leaving like he sometimes does by playing the music at a so-so, but still unacceptable and distracting volume. Well, he’s gonna have to be woken up tonight. I didn’t want to, cuz I’d prefer to do other things, but come 1 AM, he’s gonna have to hear me. As long as it takes for it to sink through his thick black skull that music means a wake-up call is as long as I’ll make myself heard in return for hearing them. And it was definitely him and not company, cuz I saw him. So what’s this? If company doesn’t bang in or out on Sundays, then he will?

Thank God there’s no dog there. Yet.

Tom fixed the back screen door which was coming off its hinge and he changed the pig’s cage while I did the mice.

Earlier, I took Velvet outside and he and Bunny were nose to nose saying hello to each other. Bunny was nice, too, since he was outside. He runs up to me a lot to pat his nose and to remind me, as Tom says, that he’s still my Bunny.

We only screwed once over the weekend, and again, I faked an orgasm. I don’t know what’s suddenly deflated my sexual appetite, but I’m hardly ever horny. And when I am, he’s either not here or is asleep, so I end up taking care of myself. I kind of like it, though, not having the higher drive that I had before. Like I said, it seems to snuff out the baby desires and we can’t have sex too much more than once a week anyway since he’s busy and since my schedule doesn’t always match his. Keeping the sex down to once every week or two keeps things more exciting. He never had much of a drive himself anyway, and he did not want to get off at all this weekend. I understand, though. If I were this normal woman he thinks I am, I could’ve gotten pregnant and I still think he doesn’t want a kid. It just may be a deep-rooted subconscious thing that he isn’t consciously aware of. It probably is, the more I think about it. He doesn’t know he doesn’t want a kid. I know, though, and the idea appeals to me less and less, too. I just don’t know if I really want to put up with all it’d entail these days. I want life, peace, tranquility. A child is not only something I couldn’t handle but why bring anything into the picture that could come in between Tom and I? I don’t want to risk or ruin a good thing. Yeah, we have our disagreements, but still, our marriage is too good to be altered in any big risky way.

We would’ve ended up screwing on Saturday, the day most likely for baby-making if I were normal, but due to our way of communicating, we didn’t (not that he’d have necessarily cum either, cuz he probably wouldn’t have). This got me thinking, though. We had agreed to go out to do errands at a particular time. Then he said he was gonna go lay down right around that time (this freeloader’s getting on my nerves with his door slamming again)! Anyway, I told him I thought we were gonna leave at that time and he said OK, we could leave at the original time we said we would. So we did. Then when we came back and got around to laying down together, he was too tired to really get it up (or too scared to as well). Now here’s what proves I’m right about God not wanting to help me and why I’m glad I don’t want a kid too much these days anyway. It’s cuz God could’ve seen to it that we did get together at a good time and that he did cum and that a baby was made. Although a child is still something I don’t deserve, not in my cards, couldn’t handle, don’t really want as much anymore, and that would be wrong for me, maybe I am fertile. Maybe I really, really am OK and for some reason, God’s just protecting me from a child and making sure I don’t conceive, rather than sterilize me or anyone that’s gotten off in me during my life. Maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe it’s simpler for him than I can imagine. Maybe all he has to do is just think in his mind how he doesn’t want a sperm to connect with one of my eggs cuz a child isn’t in my destiny, and then it’s a done deal.

Tom and I were talking earlier and he was telling me that he believes he and I can do anything we want and that if we believe we can’t do something, then we can’t. He also says that most people in general find it more fulfilling to dream about something than to do it. I always wished I was one of those people, cuz almost all my dreams were impossible dreams, but now I feel more and more satisfied with just dreaming about a child, cuz I know what the consequences would be for actually having one.

I’m gonna do everything I can do to go along with God and make sure I never have a child, whether it hurts or not, cuz if he feels I don’t deserve one, I feel I don’t deserve one. And it’s true. I don’t. I have other blessings that I do deserve and God can’t spoil one by giving them everything they want. Also, I always got off on punishing myself, so to speak. I don’t know why I do it, but it’s something my instinct has always told me to do. So to be cruel to myself, in a sense, and deny myself the right to a child (along with God), will make me feel stronger and I believe it’ll score points with God too, cuz that’s also doing the right thing. It’s when I do wrong and go against his plans for me (or try to) that trouble comes. That real trouble comes.

I have been stuck for the longest time in quite a while, but hell if I’ll take laxatives and get sick in order to shit! I’ve been taking Metamucil, but so far it hasn’t helped. The weird but nice thing about it is that my weight’s still down. However, it’s obviously not gonna be down to 122 this Wednesday like it should be, so once again, something up there doesn’t want me losing weight. Every time I think I just may be able to shed this weight, something happens to remind me that it just isn’t gonna happen. Chances are excellent, especially as long as I don’t smoke, that I’ll never be thin again, and I just have to accept this like it or not. Anyway, I’ll shit when my body’s ready to. Maybe all this typing which I haven’t done in a few days will help because as I said before, banging on the keyboard always seems to bring on a dump.

Got a letter from a very unhappy Bob who said something along the lines of how if he can’t prove himself to me and Kim, too bad. How dare I think he’s stuck his dick in anybody in the last 15 years, he’ll answer any questions but has no feelings left, etc. I know that his not having sex in 15 years is bullshit and even he’s said so, but nonetheless, he obviously took my teasing all wrong. I told him I don’t give a shit where his dick has been in the last 15 years. It’s none of my business.

So other than sending him old journal drafts from my proofreading project, I have to use them for him. Never did, anyway, other than car rides and for someone to read my old journal stuff/wacky letters. I get a real kick out of people like Fran, Nervous and him reading my journal stuff. That way I know my writing’s been put to good use and has been read by someone who will read it and I won’t be embarrassed cuz it’d be read by someone whose opinions I could care less about.

Later...

I just rearranged the mice, not just their cages, but where their cages are. They were right by the doorway separating the kitchen and back room, but now they’re by the back door. I really like this a lot better, cuz now I won’t get a whiff of their stinkiness every time I walk by them, and I walk to and from the back room and kitchen a lot more than I go in and out the back door. I think it’ll also help with their smell if they’re right by the door, too. I can also see them from the kitchen now and I’m sure that due to their inquisitive nature, they’re quite pleased with being able to see more of the house where they now are.

Yesterday, we went to Staples where he got a program that lets you design your own home, which I think is a little too soon to get, but he wanted it.

We also went to a couple of art stores where we got thinner cardboard since the one we got to do journal covers with, was too thick for the puncher. We came up with some pretty cool experimentations, though. On one so-called cover, I’ve got a desert scene, some clipart palm trees, and a picture of Norah. On another cover, I’ve got strips of pictures. A strip of Gloria, then Norah, and I rotated back and forth. Each strip of 4-6 pictures is the same picture.

Anyway, we used a type of clear contact paper, but that bunched up in certain areas. We used a spray, too, to laminate one of the covers and Tom says that dried too fast. So, I’ve been using these two covers for just decorations.

The iron-on shirts - now that was a cool project! I’d have killed to have done these in 1989 when I was really hot for Gloria. Anyway, I printed out both Norah and Gloria pictures onto iron-on sheets, then ironed them onto 3 different T-shirts. I didn’t do a very good job on some of them, but it’s still awesome!

We got a form for ordering magazines through Sarah’s Brownie troop. I’m not a magazine person like Tom is, but nonetheless, I got a Weight Watchers magazine and he got a couple of computer magazines.

Guess Tammy’s happiness has been rather short-lived. Things are civil with Bill and she’s still with Mark and is happy with him, but the problem is Lisa and Mom.

She says Lisa’s smoking. Yeah, I figured as much. No, I’m not mad, but I am disappointed, as I said before. I can understand the “hell, I’m not gonna quit, and cigarettes will never bother me” attitude. I know how it almost always takes years to quit and I can see her wanting to tell someone she looks up to that she did in fact quit when she really didn’t. Anyway, she said she told Lisa that she’d prefer she didn’t smoke for reasons that are obvious, like how it’s bad for you, but she also knows she can’t stop her. She said all she asked of Lisa was that she smoke outside and not in her room. Lisa isn’t listening, I guess, and from what Tammy says, she’s going and doing the opposite of what Tammy says. Yeah, that’s kids for you and again, do I really want one of those rebellious things? I don’t think so. I think I’d prefer to just think about it. Cuz then I don’t have to really deal with motherhood’s shit.

She said Jen stood there for 3 days and that she and Lisa had a good time, but Lisa did not end up going to Larry’s this weekend after all. Tammy said teachers at Lisa’s school were calling about her grades, etc. That’s why Tammy told Larry that maybe next weekend would be better, cuz she needed to catch up on her schoolwork.

Then she said she’s had it with Mom and is ending her contact with her. Mom was questioning her parenting, telling Tammy she’s not an RN and to send a diploma to prove it (Tammy’s really just a nurse’s aide and she has told Larry and I that she was a nurse, but since I know Tammy does hype things up, I just ignored it). She also told Tammy that 4 times she’s turned to men and asked if she was having sex with Mark.

At least she has Mark, though, cuz some people have no one and I know what that’s like, cuz I’ve been there. She agreed, but she feels alone as far as family goes. Family other than her kids. She pointed out how I’m so far away. True, and we both have mixed emotions about that, too. We’d love to see each other, but we know we have to do what we have to do. My family doesn’t have any regrets about me coming out here, either. They say it’s the ones you’re closest to that are the farthest away. If it were Larry she was closest to, he’d be the one out here.

Anyway, the only thing Ma said that I agree with, besides the fact that Tammy’s not an RN, is how Tammy does turn to men. She’s always seemed the non-independent type who’s gotta have a man.

I told her that if she wanted my advice, I’d email Mom, not call her, and tell her to fuck this diploma shit. Nurse’s aide, RN, MD - they’re all the same in the sense that they’re helping people. As long as Tammy enjoys her work, that’s what counts.

And like Tammy said, who the fuck is Mom to question her parenting, whether or not Tammy was a good parent when she was a shitty parent?! That’s something someone like my Mom would do, too, question someone else’s parenting. It helps her cover and justifies her own guilt for being a lousy mother.

I also told her she might want to tell Mom that it’s her crotch and her right to have whoever’s dick in it she wants.