Tom should be in any time now with Mom. I’m really looking forward to her visiting this weekend!

They’ve sonic boomed by 3 straight days in a row. They boomed by more like 2-3 times a week last January – March, but are pretty regular about it this time around, till they crash. They boomed by at 9:30 and 2:30 two days ago, 9:15 yesterday, and 8:45 today.

Again I woke up many times and was even up for an hour. I was contemplating getting up when I managed to fall back asleep. I don’t expect to sleep very well until after the 30th. Maybe.

I did some cleaning and washed the guest bed sheets. I brought some of Tom’s clothes into the bedroom, so he won’t have to go into the guest room while she’s in there.

My visit with Helen went well and I was even in for a surprise from her. I’ll discuss it later, though.

It was really chilly in here when I got up so I put the heat on for an hour or so. Now, though, it’s hotter in here than it was yesterday. This is probably because I didn’t open the windows today and let the cool air circulate throughout the house. It’s about 81 degrees inside and outside right now.

I let myself sleep an extra hour today cuz I woke up so tired yesterday, but I woke up a zillion times. I first went to sleep with the sound machine on so I wouldn’t have to have the fan moving the air, but I just couldn’t get used to that, so I had to put the fan on. I think I do prefer the circulating air along with the sound of the fan better, anyway.

Saw an interesting documentary on ancient Pompeii, and again, these are the kinds of things that would’ve bored me to death years ago. The show showed old ruins and skeletons from 2000 years ago when Mount Vesuvius erupted.

Tom just got in and says the mural’s in! Great! Can’t wait to get it up this weekend.

I’ll write later after my appointment with Helen, or tomorrow, or even Monday, depending on how busy the weekend turns out.

Finally got through to Paula. I got her machine, though. I let her know I’d call her not this weekend, but next, and told her I look forward to hearing what she thinks of the calendar, story and tape. I look forward to her sending more pictures. Current pictures are great, but I wish she’d send an old one too, from around 10 years ago! I wonder if she’ll send any dolls.

Helen’s office called yesterday to remind me of tomorrow’s appointment, and of course, my heart beat madly until I realized who it was. It came up as private. This is the time Paul and Don ought to start calling to rehash shit I just want to forget and move on from, and to make me do things I don’t want to do, so I can feel like a kid all over again. Of course, I don’t expect I’ll have to do anything till sentencing day, other than go see Don and Helen. That’s enough right there.

What worries me is how the bitch will react towards probation if that’s all I get. Probation wouldn’t be enough for her. She wants me in jail. No doubt about it. We already know how vindictive, vengeful and spiteful this bitch is, and we already know how obsessed she is with me, so will probation cut it with her? Somehow I doubt it. Nothing’s ever good enough for this bitch. She just cannot drop it and move on! And if she’s already been able to abuse her position within the courts this far, how much further can and will she go? She certainly doesn’t mind taking the time out to do this. It’s obviously plenty worth it to her. As it is, a non-threatening letter and phone call should never have gone this far. So, if it can go as far as it has, it can go further. It shouldn’t have gone any further than being rudely dragged out of my house by a bunch of lying pigs to the police station, but even that’s overkill, and again, life is unfair. So, knowing that, I know the worst possible case scenario could very well happen.

Why has God restored my hearing in my good ear? It seems that lately my hearing’s improved and has been much better in that ear, not that it was ever too shitty. I can no longer tolerate the volumes I used to listen to music for years. Did he make my hearing better so I could hear further away? That’d be convenient since noise is further away from us here than it was in Phoenix, but lately, it’s been amazingly quiet. There have been a few times I thought I heard music, but other than that, it’s been dead quiet like a rural town should be.

Later...

It’s not even 11 AM, yet it’s only 65 degrees out.

Anyway, I forgot to say earlier that they’re booming again. I heard them at 9:30.

Also, Tom did back exercises yesterday. We’ll see how long it lasts.

Went into the city yesterday as planned. At least we made it one way without getting held up. On the way back, we went through Lavene and got slowed by a creeper, but we cruised right into the city the airport way. I like going by Sky Harbor Airport and seeing the planes fly over the freeway. I can sometimes see them land too, if the angle and timing are just right and there are no trucks blocking my view.

No one was there when we got in, and Tom hung out with me for nearly an hour before he left. Other than the dog barking out back, the obnoxious parakeets, and the stench of dog piss, it was quiet. Of course it was quiet; I don’t live there.

Dave stopped in for a quick lunch after we arrived and he left right after Tom left to get Mom at daycare and take her to get her stitches out. While I was alone I played solitaire on the computer, cuz I couldn’t find their tiles game on either computer. I also left Mary a surprise document in her word processor. Just a few sentences saying hi, guess who this is, etc.

I chatted with Mom when she got in while Tom checked their computer network, then we left. She gave us 10:00, which we spent on junk at Circle K, and her suitcase and toilet thing. The toilet thing raises her up cuz she can’t bend her knees well. Guess she must be anxious to visit since she’s already packed.

I also just had to get a little bit of a flow when we screwed and went out. I had cramps on the way into the city, so I swallowed some ibuprofen without water in the car, so I wouldn’t have to wait longer. But why does it always have to happen when we screw or go out? Last time it was when I went to Helen’s that I had to flow. Before that, it was during sex and then in July, it was jail. I don’t have sex that often nor do I go out that often, so can’t I ever rag when I’m home and not having sex?! Besides, how can I hide my flows from him, however wimpy they may be, when he gets blood on himself and the sheets? Does something up there want him to know when I’m flowing? Well, I’d prefer that he didn’t know. When he knows, he tends to play games more when I’m mid-cycle. I tried to blame the blood on irritation (which I truly did have, as always) and I tried to blame the cramps on a pulled muscle, but I don’t know if he bought it. If I was gonna be mid-cycle, as screwy as my cycles are, during the middle of the week, that’d be one thing. But if it hits a Sunday, then all the more I might have to deal with his games. You know, the one where he suddenly forgets how to screw. I hate going through the bullshit motions for nothing, and he’s terrified in bed as it is, so sterile or not, no man that terrified of making a kid wants to get within inches of a possibly ovulating woman.

He got slightly playful on Sunday. I could be wrong, but I think he was trying to get me to think we were gonna screw at certain times on Sunday, only to be let down. When is this guy gonna wake up and see that it’s no disappointment to me and that it hasn’t been for years and that he’s playing his own games with himself, if that’s truly what he was trying to do? And by the way, now he says he likes sex when it’s not too dark out, but not too light either, like when the sun’s setting or rising. My only surprise this weekend was the time of day we got together. I expected to screw Monday, but not in the morning like we did. His bullshit excuse for his slow movements, which I know was to keep from cumming, was back pain. Yeah, something always hurts, doesn’t it? Then he says he’s gonna start doing exercises for that, but do you know how many times I’ve heard that? And so what if he does start doing exercises for that? He’ll only quit. I’m just so tired of the same old, same old, and the same goddamn lame excuses that he does nothing about. He does nothing to help himself cuz he just doesn’t want to be helped.

We agreed we’d sleep together this weekend while his mother’s here, but I know that’ll be a disaster. Nothing’s changed with that; I’m still the lightest sleeper in the world, and God won’t be there to help. Heaven forbid Jodi S should be normal in any kind of intimate way. The slightest movement – I’ll wake right up. The slightest sound – I’ll wake right up. I’ll either have to end up crawling into the retreat on my exercise mat, or he’ll have to crawl in there to sleep on the airbed if we can find the stuff to patch the hole Houdini made in it.

Speaking of Houdini, he was acting like a weekend rat, as usual. He just doesn’t like Tom. For some reason, he’s scared of him. I guess it’s cuz Tom doesn’t feed and handle him like I do. Anyway, on weekends, he’s reluctant to come out and run around. I have to coax him out and take him out myself usually. But during the week when he knows he’s gone, out he comes on his own. He used to come out at night after Tom went to bed, but now he comes out for an hour or two when I get up after he’s been gone for a few hours.

Later...

I just tried calling Paula, but couldn’t get through to her. I was going to call her this weekend, but cuz of Mom’s visit, I thought I’d call today, but all I get is static after one ring. I could get the message I left Tom just fine, as well as his call telling me he’d be late, so I guess the problem is on her end. Anyway, I’m sure she’ll call this weekend because if I remember right, she’s a weekend caller for the most part.

Mary wrote my character letter saying she’s known me for years, I’m kind and considerate, she’s been a guest in my house and treated well, I love animals and collect dolls. I’m surprised she mentioned the dolls. What do dolls have to do with my character? Nonetheless, the letter was well-written and articulate.

It’s beautiful out right now at only 71° and I have some windows open to let in the nice breeze. They say it might get down as low as 50° in the next few nights. I knew it would be chilly enough in here by early morning, once I saw that it was already down to 68° by 10:00 last night. When I got up it was down to 76° in here, and I usually like it to be 80°-81°.

Today we’re going out at noon to bring his Mom to get her stitches out. Well, he’s going to take her to get them out. I’m gonna hang out at the house and play on the computer. Mary and Dave have to work today.

October 30th is getting closer and the stress is mounting yet again. If God has any mercy on me whatsoever, he’ll make sure this is the last court date. I can’t take this every few months. I just can’t take this anymore! I go home from jails or courts, slowly get on with my life, then the stress and anxiety slowly eats at me little by little as the next court date draws closer and these sick fucks are thrust upon me and my life all over again. Uuuggghhh!!!

Tom noticed I was stressing earlier and said it sometimes helps to talk. No thanks, I told him. I don’t want to argue, which is what we often seem to do when it comes to these blacks, and of course, the Mexicans, too. They’ve come between us enough, thank you. Besides, I’ve got Helen now and it’s her job to listen to me talk to her. It’s not Tom’s place anymore. I don’t want him to have to listen to me bitch about anything, whether we agree on it or argue about it or not.

I find myself not so much missing Andy, but wondering about him. I still feel I did the right thing by cutting him loose. We just had less and less in common as time went on and I got tired of his coming over only when he wanted a button sewn or to browse the net. He became quite the pest, along with his never-ending rebellious attitude towards my simple little requests, and as Tom pointed out, he wouldn’t have been able to come out here anyway. Maybe once every year or two. It just would’ve been too hard on him and his car. And it would’ve been so hard for him to restrain himself from the long-distance calls, too. Nonetheless, and although this is quite impossible, I sometimes wish I could talk to him once a year, but I’d never want to resume regular contact with him. That I don’t miss. Just to know what he’s been up to on a yearly basis would be nice enough. However, what could he tell me? The same thing year after year? Sadly enough, I’m afraid so. I think he’s peaked in life just like I have at this point. I’m sure that although it’s been just over a year since we talked, he’s still doing the same things – getting fired, getting high, hanging out with losers, living on the phone, stuffing his face, and dreaming of Mr. Right, who by most people’s standards, is really Mr. Wrong. Mr. Very Wrong.

Tom was right – the strips do pop off the wall easily enough, and without destroying the wall. Someday, when we go to repaint, we’ll pop off all the strips. I hate them, anyway. They totally interfere with my decorating. Anyway, he popped the two strips that were where the mural is going, then spackled the gap. Once that dries, he’ll sand it, then the wall will be all prepped and ready for the mural. The mural’s not ready to be picked up yet, and I assume they would’ve notified us already if it had to be back-ordered.

I saw a show on the learning channel that would’ve bored me to tears when I was younger. Now, however, I find these things interesting; fossilized animal remains from thousands, even millions of years ago.

No predictable, boring, cumless quickie today because today is Saturday. I would bet my dolls on us screwing tomorrow, our usual sex day, if it weren’t for the long weekend. I think we’ll end up screwing Monday, though, if we get together at all this weekend seeing that we just got together last weekend, cuz he tends to put that off till the end of the weekend. In this case, the end of the weekend, when he starts to tire down and unwind, will be Monday afternoon.

Later...

I can’t draw anymore. I just can’t draw anymore! Why? Is it just another compensation for being here? It’s a worthy tradeoff if that’s what it is, but I wonder – is that really it?

We were talking about foods his mother would like while she’s with us next weekend. Yes, she’s actually going to stay with us next weekend! Then any other time she may need to during Mary’s treatment, depending on how sick she gets. It’s going to be about 6 months before Mary’s treatment is done, and who knows how often this thing will reoccur? Anyway, Tom said Mom would like to have at least one meal a day where we all sat down at the table (preferably without Tom making those disgusting sounds he makes when he eats) cuz Mary and Dave don’t do that. They run out for fast food and bring it home to eat in front of the TV. They don’t clean and they don’t cook. It’s a good thing I can’t lose any more weight and that I’m now in the maintain state, cuz I could certainly never lose weight with all the extra foods that’ll be around. I just don’t have the willpower I once had.

When I asked Tom why he thought I had an easier time saying no to food in the past than I do now, he said it was cuz I had more to rebel against back then. True. Very true. But I still have enough to rebel against now – freeloaders, cops, courts, and I still feel controlled by him in bed and I don’t care what he says. But that doesn’t mean I’d feel controlled by him if he had ear surgery like I had, for example, and I had to help him with that. That wouldn’t be his fault. So, having dirty clothes to wash may not make me feel “controlled,” but being told what to do and where to go does make me feel controlled. What’s happened with these cops and courts thanks to these freeloaders, has totally made me feel like a kid all over again with no say in the matter whatsoever. Well, let me tell you – I’m sick and tired of being told what to do, and if that’s being rebellious, then so be it.

Tom’s going to stop at his Mom’s after work before doing the grocery shopping. He meant to see her yesterday but had to do a tour at work that ran a little late. He said she mentioned giving us some money. I guess she wants to give us a little for all the flat tires and shit like that we’ve had. It won’t be much, though. Probably just $20, but it’s something.

Tom said that Don’s not in a hurry to call me back no doubt cuz he liked my answers given in the interview and isn’t worried about me being such a problem that needs jailing. Well, that’s all well and good, but how much am I gonna be forced to pay the courts monthly? And worse of all, how much do I have to be totally degraded into paying the freeloaders directly?

Tom says to try not to let the possibility of jail get to me, but sometimes that’s easier said than done. On the one hand, my logic says I should never get sent to jail for this, but life’s so unfair. People do get jailed for the wrong reasons and people do go free for the wrong reasons, too. Just because I shouldn’t go to jail for this, doesn’t mean I won’t. And just because I don’t have any vibes saying I’ll have to go to jail, doesn’t mean it’s not just wishful thinking that’s blocking out any negative vibes about a pending jail sentence. No one wants to “see” or “sense” that they’re going to jail, and therefore, I may not be able to see or sense it if it is fated to be. I just want this sick bitch out of my life! How many years have I been saying that now?

I sometimes wonder if I should take the new, stricter laws and use them to my advantage and drag them through the mud right along with me. I’m white, and I don’t have letters with their fingerprints or tapes with their voices on them so I couldn’t get them arrested or brought to court, but I could put them through the hassles of questioning. All I’d have to do is insist they did whatever to me, like swear they drove by here making threats or something like that, and they’ll at least pick them up. I’d hope so, anyway! But, I don’t think I want to lower myself to their level just because I’m pissed at them, which is exactly what she and the Mexicans did; they got pissed at what I had to say about them, couldn’t handle it, and went running to the piggies. They were never scared. They were Pissed with a capital P. So pissed that they weren’t afraid to implicate themselves in doing so. They weren’t afraid to look bad or incriminate themselves to get at me.

The land looks pretty dull right now. Actually, some of it’s kind of shabby looking with those damn wheat-colored weeds with the stickers. They go away in the summer, making the land look a little better, but this place certainly needs saguaros, prickly pears, queen palms, and whatever else. We talked about planting a bougainvillea and a bird of paradise bush and letting them grow wild. We had to trim the ones we had in Phoenix, but not here!

At night, when the moonlight is out, the moonlight almost gives off the illusion of there being a light dusting of snow on the ground with the way it illuminates the sandy dirt and the light-colored weeds.

Paula said she thinks she has a big butt. She said she’s got a “Mexican” butt. Well, I’ve still got quite a bubble butt of my own, and I’m definitely set for life at 115 pounds unless I either starve or quit working out. Or become deathly ill, for that matter.

I asked her if she pled guilty (to beating up that girl and slugging a cop). She said she did, cuz not pleading guilty would’ve made things worse. Yeah, they bribed her too, and gave her ultimatums. I forgot to ask her if she had to pay any court fees, but she did tell me that she was in jail for 30 days and on probation for a year. She also had community service. She worked on the highway in a chain gang when she was in jail. She worked in churches and sorting clothes at the Salvation Army. One thing I can tell you for damn sure and that’s that no law’s gonna make me work in a church full of narrow-minded, delusional fools. I also forgot to ask her if they made her see a therapist. Somehow I doubt it. Only I get made to see therapists. Only I’m crazy. Me and maybe sex abusers have to see therapists. Anyway, Paula says she’s been behaving. That’s good. She doesn’t need to get in any more trouble any more than I do.

The phone company fucked with us the other night when we were reporting to Mary to let her know how well the TV worked. It went dead, and it took several minutes before it came alive again. Cybertrails will be gone this week, then we’ll be getting a free service, but that’s not unlimited. We pay a set fee for unlimited service now, but with this service we’re going to get, it’ll be free unless we use it cuz they don’t have a local number. It’ll be like making a long-distance call. Anyway, we won’t use it for fun, just if we need to. It’ll be nice to have so that if we need to look up directions to a particular place, for example, we can. Especially since we never got any Phonebooks out here.

When I got up this morning, I turned off the AC and opened the windows for about an hour and a half. It was sooo nice. So nice to smell the outdoors, to hear nothing but peace and quiet, and to see nothing but nature. I could see nothing, as I lay on my side in bed drinking my coffee and gazing out the window, but sky, trees, shrubs, and the earth itself. No driveways, roads or pavement of any kind. No people, houses, cars, balls bouncing, barking, screaming, sirens, music, etc.

The possibility of having to go to jail was eating at me last night, and Tom said to try not to let it worry me, and that Don’s not calling me back right away is a good sign. It is? I didn’t think to ask him why, so I’ll ask him when he gets in. I just thank God they didn’t go after him for this shit. Better for it to me that has to deal with this shit if one of us must do so, cuz I’ve already got a record and he doesn’t. Also, if worse came to worse in this very unfair world and one of us had to go to jail, better for it to be me. He can get by without me, but out here in the boonies, I’d be completely stranded.

He hasn’t decided yet on exactly when to take time off. That’s gonna depend on what goes on with Mary, I guess, to whom I gave the second probation department envelope. I figured now was a better time to ask her for that character reference, even if it did me no good in the end. Anyway, I have mixed emotions about his basing his time off on what goes on in Mary’s household rather than in his own. I want him to take time off for us, the people that live here, and not so he can cater to Mom and Mary, but on the other hand, we owe them. Sort of anyway. They’ve done so much for us, I’d love to have Mom visit, and besides, what else could we do being this broke? It’s not like we could spend his vacation time, which can be anytime before the year is out, shopping, gambling or flying to Vegas. He says his Mom would feel better staying here if he were here so she doesn’t have to worry if she falls or anything like that. I don’t know. He says she wouldn’t be bringing it up if she weren’t serious, but I still get the feeling that she wouldn’t feel comfortable staying here, whether or not he’s on vacation. I know she doesn’t hate me, or else she wouldn’t have given me material and other things, but I get the feeling she might feel uncomfortable around me. You know how a lot of people feel that way with hyper, outspoken people like myself.

Later...

As I remember bits and pieces of our chat, another “discrepancy” comes to mind. Paula said she thought my computer or printer must’ve broken for me to be sending some hand-written letters, yet if she had really read my letters, she’d know the real reason for the hand-written letters. I think she does read them. I think she’s just so damn air-headed, that she can’t remember half the things she reads/hears/sees.

She got contradictory on me in regard to the bad vibes I had about Justin. First she said it wasn’t going to happen cuz she told him about it, then she admitted to his getting in trouble in school, then said that whatever happens, happens.

Either way, it’s too late for him. She’s already damaged him and planted the vicious seed that’s destined to be as God shall see fit. His fate is sealed.

Well, I did get a little surprise, after all. I expected Tom to be OK with my wanting to put a hold on sex, but nope. He objects, he said, unless I absolutely insist on waiting. But why? If all he wants to do is get hard, I can see to that by hand. Maybe he objected cuz he knows I don’t want to do it. He does, after all, seem more driven by the things that I’m not interested in, or that turn me off altogether. So, I guess some Sundays, for the rest of my life, are going to be very boring and very predictable. Yes, we certainly have much more fun out of bed than in it. That’s my opinion, anyway. At least he has a good time in bed. In fact, so good of a time that he’s willing to sacrifice any pleasure with me just to keep his stubborn attitude and to bore me to death. Sometimes I wonder – should I start expressing pleasure in bed? Will that make him want to veer the opposite way; if he thinks I like things the way they are? Then again, what opposite way can we go? He doesn’t like having sex during the week and is usually too tired to do so, we can’t do many different positions, and the guy’s old-fashioned and unimaginative. He’s also afraid to cum and shouldn’t be made to do anything he doesn’t feel comfortable doing. Like I said, I know we’ll never have a kid and that’s not the issue anymore, whether I’m sterile or not. The issue is the lack of honesty on his part. His failure to face and admit his fears is the issue. After hoping for so many years that he’d one day come out and say – You were right. I was afraid to cum regularly cuz I was afraid of a kid. I just didn’t want the expense and hassle. I’m sorry I wasn’t upfront from the beginning. Especially with how badly you once wanted one. However, with each year that passes with no change whatsoever, and with a confession from him, I realize it’s never going to come. Thirty years from now he’ll still be saying it was out of his hands, but that he did want a kid (even though he happened to never do anything to achieve that), and that he didn’t control me.

Well, in the end, we don’t have to have a kid. I’m fine without that. I may wonder about it from time to time since it’s an experience I’ll never have, but we don’t have to have a kid and he doesn’t have to cum, even if it’d make me feel like cumming too, and turn me on more to know I pleased him and that he is without fear. I just think it’s rather sad that I’ll never hear the full truth from his mouth, but only from his actions.

No, I don’t bother praying to God for help. In fact, I haven’t prayed to him for years now. That’s because I know he doesn’t give a damn and that there’s no help from him. He obviously wants things to be the way they are as much as Tom does or else he wouldn’t have let this shit go on for 7 years. He’d have done something to give Tom the strength and motivation to change, or to at least own up to the truth. Or maybe he wouldn’t have let Tom be the way he is in the first place. Remember, it was me that made him the way he is. He was never cumless with anyone else. I’m the one who brought the sexual curse into this relationship, even if he’s the one with the fears. Not that I never had my own fears about a kid. It’s just that I wouldn’t have let them stand in my way if I had had some say in the matter. I’m not alone as far as him being afraid to have a kid for various reasons. Most women deal with resistant boyfriends/husbands when it comes to that. The difference is that their men still cum, so sometimes they can get tricked into parenthood by the woman who may insist she took her birth control when she really didn’t. Well, this one’s so scared I couldn’t trick him if I wanted to. He keeps his equipment under strict lock and key and would never dare take chances with it. I still can’t figure out why he did take those chances the dozen or so times he did. What gave him the burst of courage to do so? What made him so daring and brave back then? We had even more shit going on than we do now, believe it or not, and we weren’t much richer.

I don’t pray to God for anything at all. If someone busted in here and held me at gunpoint, God’s the last one I’d be pleading with for mercy. For I would know that if God wanted me unharmed, he would never have sent someone to hold me at gunpoint in the first place.

I thought of another thing that Paula said that has me confused. She acted all surprised that I had to spend the night in jail. Well, if she read my letters, wouldn’t she remember and know that I spent the night in jail? Could any of my letters have gotten lost?

Later...

Tom’s home now. I had him get new scent cartridges. Instead of that way-too-strong and perfumey flowery oil, I had him get vanilla. Vanilla, Country Garden, and strawberry are the best. I took the oil out of its warmer and placed it in the closet. I only have the cartridges in my office and the bedroom. Just in rooms that are “real” rooms. I don’t have anything going in the open part except for the air cleaner.

It may only be the 4th, but I wonder, should I call Don if he doesn’t call me by the 30th?

Somehow I doubt I’ll get that lucky. He’ll call. I’m sure he’ll call. Like I said, something up there really wants me to pay for this. For a lousy letter and phone call. How can people harass their neighbors for years and not expect there to be some kind of consequence? And just what is something up there doing to them for what they did wrong to us?

Nothing. Nothing at all. How stupid of me to even ask, huh? I could be murdered and my murderer would never see justice done to them. They’d probably never get caught, but if they did, they’d get off on some stupid technicality, or they wouldn’t do much time. It’s OK to wrong Jodi S. It’s very OK. God made that clear to me just by the parents he had me born to.

Anyway, no I won’t call Don. I called him and he said he’d call me back, so it wouldn’t be my fault if he didn’t, but like I said, he’ll be calling.

There are a lot of things that Tom’s better at than I am, but making pancakes isn’t one of them. He trashed the kitchen making the damn things. But I, who can’t keep her paws off the stuff he buys that I don’t put on the list, and that’s usually not very healthy, make them without making such a mess. I cook them well too, and make them all about the same size.

I’m psyched to say that I finally heard from Paula! Tom brought a letter home from her yesterday, which had her new phone number in it. This was the longest letter she ever wrote, too. Her grammar is not great, but she spells pretty well. I dig how she started off: Dear Jodi – best friend.

She’s been in the same apartment in Chicopee for a record-breaking year and says she’s still waiting for Section 8 or some kind of housing.

I was right about suspecting she lost my number, but I gave it to her when we talked. She asked me once again to try to find a couple of guys online, but I let her know we were ditching the Internet.

I was surprised when she asked - how did you get in all that mess? What happened? What charges did you get? I was like – aren’t you reading my mail? She said she got confused by all the abbreviations I use in her letters, so I let her know I wouldn’t use initials and abbreviations anymore.

She contradicted herself a handful of times. Not intentionally or cuz she just doesn’t care what she tells people which is the case with most people, but just because this is the way Paula is – unable to focus. She said on the phone that she just started a computer training course, yet in her letter, she said she wasn’t going for that till November. She also said there’s no man in her life now. Just that black cop John. Yeah, and I haven’t eaten anything today. Just a sandwich, some soup, some pancakes, and popcorn!

She said she got a computer, but no Internet or printer. Soon she’ll send pictures.

Any CDs I don’t want, send to her. Also, she’ll send me some money to make her tapes of rap music. I told her not to bother sending money and that I’d make her tapes off the satellite. They have a rap channel. I made a tape up already and will send one at a time. That way I can use regular envelopes. She said she likes soul music too, but there’s no soul station. She said she has 5 dolls sitting in her closet. I let her know I’d gladly give them a home if it’d be OK with her.

She said her friend is in prison for 3 years. He’s in for drugs.

She asked how my diet is going and says hers is going well. Then why is she up to 170? The last time we talked, she said she was around 150.

On November 14th she’ll be having surgery for stomach adhesions.

I also talked to her son Justin who’s now 9 years old. We mostly talked about his coin collection. He asked me to send pictures of tarantulas and diamondbacks, and I assured him I would as soon as I could get shots of them. I enclosed his own letter, along with one for Paula, in the envelope containing the first rap tape.

Later...

Tom’s home now, eating the chili mac I made him before he got in.

I had begun typing him a note before he got in, letting him know that I don’t want to screw till after the 30th due to the doubled predictability involved. It’s predictable enough to know he wouldn’t cum (which puts a damper on my cumming) even if we were rich and had nothing going on, but another to really know it with all we have going on, cuz sterile or not, we have to take responsibility and make sure that he doesn’t cum, like it or not, as long as we don’t know if I’m going to jail, and as long as we’re broke and don’t know what’s going on with Mary. I don’t like the 2-minute quickies with all its limitations and restrictions. I want to wait until we can let our guards down and not have to be so cautious. After we take care of Mom, Mary, the courts, and get a little more stable financially, then we can screw, unless he insists we keep up on it anyway. I told him, If I don’t hear any protests from you, I’ll assume you’re OK with this plan, and remember, I can get you just as hard by hand as I can with my crotch, so if that’s all you need anyway, then feel free to ask me for handjobs along the way. For a while, I was comfortable with our routine, but for now, I can’t screw when each session feels so planned, mapped out and predictable. I need a little more spontaneity, surprise and variety.

Took some gorgeous sunrise pictures the other day. The sun was so reddish that it looked more like a sunset. It’s so cool how you can actually see the sun rising up over the horizon, unlike back east. It’s just not flat enough back east.

Anyway, I have a zillion things to catch up on. First of all, we got the big-screen TV, and I ordered a mural!! I never would’ve gotten the mural if Tom hadn’t accidentally gotten credit from Lowe’s Hardware. Let me go in order of events…

First of all, we’re both doubting Dan’s here. When Tom was coming home one day he saw the people a couple of properties ahead of Dan’s, that you can’t see from this house cuz of too much vegetation in the way (you could easily see 4 or 5 properties in Phoenix!), pull out in front of him, then turn into Dan’s. Well, as I’ve been saying, it’s been awfully quiet over there, not to mention the gate being open funny and the strange lighting patterns. Dan never leaves outside lights on overnight. He also guns his engines much more often, for more than a minute at a time, and he blasts music, too.

On the other hand, the people could’ve been going just to visit. Remember, these properties are huge. No one walks from property to property here. Even next door drove over here when they came to ask us about those stray dogs. I also thought I saw him in his standard white T and cap, but couldn’t swear to it cuz the person was so far away; around 500’ away.

Saturday morning we headed for Lowe’s first and got held up by creepers both ways. I just don’t get why the fuck everyone’s so afraid to drive the speed limit out here. We just can’t go anywhere without some creep holding us up! Anyway, I was really surprised Lowe’s had murals. I didn’t think they would. They didn’t have the water lamp.

Tom picked up some hooks for his pegboard, a blank faceplate for where the satellite connection used to be, and I picked out a decorative faceplate for the kitchen light switch. It’s a soft pastel-colored tulip design with pink, blue and yellow. After Tom dragged me around the store for what seemed like an eternity, we finally found the wallpaper section. The one I picked out is what I figured I pick – something tropical. A palm-treed beach scene. The only negative is that it’s close to 6’ wide and not 8’, so once it’s centered on the wall it’s going on, there’ll be a foot-and-a-half gap on either side. It’s 6’4” wide and 8’ tall. I’m going to have it come down from the ceiling. There’ll probably be about 2’ of space under it. We didn’t want it delivered to the house since people have such a hard time finding the place, so we’ll pick it up at Lowe’s in a couple of weeks. We got an awesome deal on the thing, too. I expected it’d cost around $80, but instead it was on sale for $45. Tom applied for a credit card with them, expecting to get rejected and expecting to get a watch they offer for applying, but to his surprise, he got accepted.

Later...

Although I still have a lot to write about, I took a break so I could get my workout out of the way, and watch a movie on the big TV. I also saw part of an old rerun of Little House on the Prairie, and was like – wow!

After we left Lowe’s, we went to Mary and Dave’s. We weren’t there long. We said hello to Mom, grabbed a soda to share, a cookie for me, and then loaded up the TV and file cabinet. Once we got home, Tom pulled the stairs away so that Dave could back the truck right up to the door. That made bringing in the TV much easier.

I wasn’t happy to find that while we were out, Jehovah’s Witnesses had stopped by. You mean to tell me that out here, where people live on 10-acre ranches, religious fanatics badger people? Great. All the more reason to appreciate the exterior fence with the no-trespassing signs it’ll have once we get them up in God knows how many years. I want it to be a real bitch for anyone to come to the door. I want them to have to get out of their car and then to have to climb over a barbed-wire fence if they want to come to these doors that bad.

Anyway, Mary and Dave didn’t stay long. I showed them my office since Tom and I swapped desks, gave them cans of soda for the road, then off they went.

So, we’ve gone from a 19” TV to a 25” TV and now to a 46” TV! I can’t believe someone just gave us this TV, and that Lowe’s had murals! We are going to be so compensated for this! I tremble just thinking about it! No one gives us something for nothing in God’s eyes, not that we’ve never given them anything or that Tom hasn’t done anything for them. Still, what’s acceptable for others isn’t always acceptable for us. Meaning that it may be OK in God’s eyes for some people to do 50% for someone who’s done them 100%, but we’re expected to do 150% for those who do us 100%.

The TV screen doesn’t feel like glass like regular TVs do, cuz it’s literally a TV screen. It’s a type of vinyl material with tiny grooves that the picture projects onto. If you get too far toward the sides of it, the picture gets darker and harder to see.

Anyway, it’s awesome, and so is its sound. It sounds almost as good as the speakers that we always had hooked to our other TVs, so when I want to play the 70s and 80s music stations, I get great sound. This is the kind of TV apartment tenants would love to have to sic on other tenants. Especially in a culture that believes music is something to be shared. People in houses would love it, too. Primarily where the houses were just a few feet apart. You can really open the windows and let the sound out!

It was so nice to finally go out together someplace other than to courts, dentists, therapists and shit like that. It was so nice to go out simply to have fun and get something fun for us.

So, going from room to room, I still have the blue card table and the walker stored in the retreat, along with a big stuffed animal, and a couple of other little odds and ends. All I have on those walls are a couple of small cactus pictures I printed/framed. The small shelves that were in my office holding my box, one of the stereo speakers, and a doll or two, are now in the bedroom by his side of the bed. It’s got dolls and books on it for the most part. As for wall changes in there, I took down the Indian picture that was by my side of the bed and centered it over my desk in the office. It looks great there. Its brown frame goes well with the brown desk. I only have 5 things in the bedroom, and boy does it look great in there. I have the pastel ballerina picture on his side of the bed over the shelves and another cute pastel picture of a little girl and boy on a beach on my side of the bed. They go well together. Over the bed is a long picture of cute puppies and flowers. Towards the front of the room, closer to the dresser than the bed, I have a brown shelf on the wall outside the closet, and a fancy mask opposite that by the bathroom door.

In the living room, just inside the front door to the right, is that large picture of a field of purple flowers with mountains in the background. To the left of the door and to the left of the windows, is that picture I printed out of bunnies. This is also where we put the 25” TV (I guess the 19” will go in his office). To the right of the windows is a contemporary drawing of a woman’s face, then I put my 3 black plastic musical notes on the wall behind the mice, each one higher than the other, following the rising slant of the ceiling. The mural is going to go straight across from the front door where the rats are, and to go with it, I put a long tropical picture on the wall to the right of it. The musical notes used to be to the right of the back door, but now there’s a mirror there. I took down the piano picture that was to the left of this door and put up a tiger picture (the piano picture not only broke out of its frame, but it isn’t even wrapped in plastic like my other frameless pictures are). The tigers had been in the den where the big TV is now. Because it’s nearly as tall as I am, I don’t have anything in the center there behind it, but to the left of the TV, to balance off with our wedding picture to the right, I put a cactus picture up. The loveseat is now where the entertainment center used to be, and this is where that long tropical picture was. I put my pink floral tree next to the loveseat, and my blue-feathered dream catcher above the loveseat. The couch, chair and tables have remained where they were. Nothing to change in the guest room either, but my office is where the entertainment center now is. It looks better than I thought it would, and black goes better with the brown than the whitewash. We basically have brown in the guest room, brown and black in my office, black with gold accents in the den and dining area, whitewash in the kitchen, baths and bedroom, and nothing in particular in the retreat, living room and his office. Well, perhaps you could say the living room’s brown and black. The mice’s tables and the TV stand are brown, and the Bowflex is black. So are the bars of the rat’s cage.

Some rooms have taken on themes. Dolls are the definite theme of my office and the bedroom, and flowers are the main theme in the kitchen and den. The rest of the rooms have a mix of things. As I teasingly told Tom, the theme in his office is junk! Although, he’s been surprisingly low on the clutter in there lately.

Later...

I took a piece of material that I don’t plan to use and put it in the corner behind the rat’s cage. Houdini loves to play in the pile of material, and he loves to play with me too, when I shake it around. I slip my hand under it and wiggle the material around and he dives into it like a puppy. He dives under its folds and I poke at him and he tries to get me through the material. It’s so cute. It’s so cool having animals that play with you besides with each other and by themselves. Just like yesterday when he was waiting for me at the side of the cage when I got up. However, unlike yesterday, he came out on his own to play shortly after I got up. He doesn’t usually come out on weekends when Tom’s home all the time. I have to sort of coax him out when he’s home and not in bed.

I decided to make my wake-up time 7:00 for a while. That way I’ll be more available to play freeloader and deal with courts and probation officers when I’m forced to.

Yesterday morning we bombed. We weren’t going to bomb for another month but we found a good deal on bombs at Lowe’s so we decided to go ahead and do it. With this one, we only needed to be out for two hours. We went to Circle K. As always, cleaning up afterward was a bitch. I had to square away the animals, run many loads through the dishwasher, then do the laundry and wipe down countertops.

We ended up screwing yesterday for the first time in what? A month? I asked him why now, and he said it had to do with Mary. Because he’s in a situation he’s never been in before, he had to sit and sort through his thoughts/feelings in his mind and ask himself what his responsibilities should be. I think his just being there for them and doing what he can possibly do to help is taking enough responsibility. Meanwhile, Mary and Dave aren’t his “responsibility,” so to speak. Nonetheless, this is all well and good, and I understand how depressed and worried he is over Mary, but there’s always something eating at him, preventing us from getting together, making sure we have little bursts of sex, and confusing the hell out of me. Just when I think we’re settling into a platonic relationship, he decides he misses me, as he put it. Again, I understand this thing with Mary, but I also feel that he’s using life’s BS, whether it’s a new problem or not, as an excuse. It’s a tool he uses to avoid regular sex. But I don’t want regular sex. We don’t have to screw every week, but when more than two weeks go by, I don’t know what to think.

Anyway, this discussion led to our 7-year argument over a kid. He still swears that he’s not controlling me from having a kid. No, that’s God’s department. But a guy who refuses to let his cum enter a woman is just as controlling. A guy who refuses to let his cum enter a woman is afraid of her conceiving and is making sure that that doesn’t happen, whether she wants a kid or not. I could’ve kicked myself for letting the argument start, though. What did I think it was going to change? He’ll never give me normal, satisfying, fulfilling sex, sterile or not. He’s been the way he is for 7 years, and he’ll be the way he is for another 7, and another 7, and another 7…

Sex still hurts. I’m 100% sure this pain is a permanent thing that’ll never go away. Why has God always been so damn determined to curse me sexually? First I’m humiliated with freaky sex, and now it has to hurt, too?!

Tom’s been asking himself questions like, what if Mary’s treatment turns out to be a big deal and her cancer keeps reoccurring? What if she dies? I asked him, wouldn’t his Mom come to live with us if she died? He said not if I didn’t think I could handle it. I asked him if he thought I could handle it and he said yes. Because his actions have made me believe he doesn’t think I could handle a kid, and because God’s actions and plans for me certainly made me believe I couldn’t handle the responsibility of taking care of anyone, young or old, I lost faith in myself. So, later on I asked myself to set aside what God’s obvious opinion is of my abilities and what Tom says he thinks, and ask myself – do I think I can handle caring for his mother?

Yes. But only because I can now keep a schedule. If I still couldn’t keep a schedule, I’d have to say no.

Mary’s attitude about what’s going on with her never ceases to amaze me. She’s taking it so well! I can’t observe her 24/7, but she sure seems to be handling it a lot better than I ever could. I’d be pissed and scared, running around muttering – why me, why me? Maybe that’s why I haven’t had any health problems lately; because God only gives us what we can handle. Well, some of us, anyway. On the other hand, I could barely handle that vicious cycle of asthma attacks. I even contemplated suicide cuz it was so bad. When you can’t breathe, you tend to feel and think that way. I wonder how many times my health will compensate for itself. Meaning, this being healthy like I have been is no doubt compensation for the shitty health I was in from the late 80s to the early 90s, but will I get hit with problems later on down the road for this time of healthfulness?

Tom got me a list of holidays throughout 2004, so I made a holiday file so I can have them available to add to calendars when I make them up.

I forgot to add a wheel mouse to my list of non-doll stuff. I may have that mural today! Tom told me yesterday we could look for one at the hardware store we’re going to this morning, but I have a feeling they won’t carry them. It’d be just my shit luck, too. Especially when he’ll have plenty of time to put it up since he’s gonna be taking time off during the time mom stays with us. We’re gonna head out of here around 9:00 and go to the hardware store first. Then we’ll go to Mary’s, help load the TV into the truck, and then head back here. I got the space in my office clear for the entertainment center. They’re also giving Tom a metal file cabinet which he’ll keep outside for his tools.

Boy, this rat is full of surprises! Ratsy, I mean. Yesterday he was panting and seemed to be so weak like Scuttles did before he died. He looks like he lost some weight, too. However, when I got up at 4:30, he was upstairs! How’d this weak old thing manage to climb up to that tube?!

The phone company never did need to come out to the house to fix the phone. It’s working again. At least, for now it is.

Good news about Mary: it looks like the cancer is contained to her throat, so all they’re going to need to do (hopefully!) is just radiation therapy. Also, Dave’s mom will be in around October 16th, so that’s when Ma will stay here unless she changes her mind. She’ll be here a week or two, I guess.

It’s just about October 1st, my weight deadline. Since it’s been over 2 months since there have been any significant changes in my weight, and since I’m still yo-yo-ing between 112-116, I’m going to have to write off losing any more weight as the impossible dream it is, like it or not, and just hang onto what I’ve got.

Speaking of dreams, why do Doe and Art have to casually butt into my dreams so often? Ugh! I get so sick of them popping into my dreams whenever the fuck they feel like it. They intrude upon my dreams as if nothing ever happened. We all live together in most of the dreams. Last night I was washing our laundry like I would as a teenager. We had those crappy stackables like we had in Phoenix. They nearly overflowed, and the dryer only ran if I held the button down. When they came in from being out somewhere, I mentioned my frustrations about it to Art. Doe seemed to be in her own little world. I said I was sick of having to depend on something that didn’t work half the time and would do laundry by hand. Art said he could fix it and I was like, fine, but put up a clothesline so I can hang dry clothes when the dryer conks out.

Once the sun comes up I turn the AC off and turn the fan on continuous run, then I opened most of the windows to let the fresh air in. Once the sun really starts rising, I shut the east side windows. I have the retreat, bedroom and kitchen windows open now, and it is beautiful! It’s dead quiet too, the way a remote country area should be. It’s been quiet and it’s hard to believe that for a while there, I was hearing music nearly every day. I couldn’t get any peace in Phoenix with the windows shut, so it’s nice to be able to open them and not have those fucking freeloaders screaming, bouncing balls, and blaring music right outside the windows. I can’t fully feel the wonders of not having those sick fucks just a few feet away, though, cuz they are still a part of my life. It sort of dampens the mood, knowing that although I can’t see or hear them this doesn’t mean I’m free of them. I’ll never be free of them. I remember how shocked and disbelieving I was when the blacks moved. Meaning, I just didn’t feel like it was over. Well, obviously it was far from over.

I don’t usually watch talk shows these days, but I was doing things to keep myself awake to push my schedule around faster, and what I saw on Oprah was really scary. It’s sooo damn easy to get the most innocent people convicted of all kinds of things. All you have to do is swear they did whatever. This segment was on capital punishment and innocent people who spent years on death row before they finally were set free. I’m still for capital punishment, though. Better to fry 9 guilty people and 1 innocent person than to let just 1 guilty person go free. What’s scary is how many incompetent lawyers there are out there, how you can get convicted with no physical evidence tying you to the crime, and worst of all, just by someone’s word for it, and it’s usually not the word of a reliable witness, either. I’d be going down for these blacks even if my prints hadn’t been on the mail, and even if I’d had someone else make the call from a pay phone or something. All the bitch has to do is say I did it. What do I do when they fuck with someone that reacts differently than I did? What do I do when someone kills one of them and they point the finger at me? Even if I had an airtight alibi, which would be hard to do when you’re home all the time, the cops would still insist I had something to do with it and so would they. Well, I just hope that when they push the wrong person too far and when that person snaps and harms them, they know who it is and that they finger that person and that person only. I also hope I’ll be somewhere like Helen’s or the dentist’s so I’ll have an alibi when it happens. Assholes like them may live long, healthy lives, but at the same time, they’re living on the edge. Especially the blacks.

Got my weight back down to 115 pounds. Guess I got a bit watery, but I should also cut my calories for a while. Yes, my metabolism’s faster, but I shouldn’t be doing 1500-2000 calories for too many days in a row.

The incompetent fucks at the phone company have really been fucking with our service. It’s hit or miss as to whether or not the phone will be dead when we go to make calls or leave messages. I told Tom he should just live with it, knowing how poorly people take to complaints, but he got fed up and called them. They say it’ll be fixed by tomorrow, but that’s what they’ve said a million times before. I know each time he calls and bitches that our service is going to get worse. Meanwhile, instead of leaving messages, since I know he may not be able to retrieve them, I’ve been typing them. Especially if I’ve got more to say than can fit on the memo board. The things I usually tell him are trivial stuff, like about the rats, etc.

Not only am I still finding tons of those annoying black bugs, but I also found a big, creepy spider earlier. Hope we can bomb soon.

Mom needed around 50 stitches the other day after she scraped her leg with the car door. That’s one sharp car door! She said Mary and Dave were out talking about whatever right before they were getting ready to head out. This is when Ma started to get into the car and cut herself. They rushed her to urgent care. Now all we have to do is hope it’ll heal quickly enough without getting infected. They gave her antibiotics.

When Tom went to see her yesterday, she gave him a bag with lots of material for me. Most of it’s dull, but what do you expect from an old lady? Bright shiny colors? I’m still happy to have it, though.

Another Ashton-Drake catalog came yesterday, and since there are too many dolls I want, I reevaluated the ‘stuff to buy’ list and narrowed it down to just 6 non-doll things I want to get, excluding household stuff like awnings, pressure tanks, etc. Besides the fire Indian, since we don’t know what she looks like yet, I want a Latina, an Indian, and a bride.

I knocked off the retreat table from the list. Unless I really get into sewing, which I can’t picture, we don’t need a table other than what’s already in there for that room. I almost knocked off the water lamp, but I did knock off the bedroom mural. The more I thought about it, the more I think it’ll look funny in there and throw the balance off there. Especially with the way that room’s laid out. An open room like the living room, though, will look great muraled. I knocked off the mattress pad, cuz they probably don’t make any built-in ones as soft as I like anyway. We’ll just stick to pads. Besides sewing stuff and clothes, I only want the living room mural, a CD changer, a tree for the dining corner, new towels, exercise gloves, and a water lamp.

I’d still like the doll kit and maybe some plastic dust covers which they sell. I can get 5 covers for the cheapies for $20. I don’t need their record book. I keep records electronically. After having time to think about the dolls I see in a catalog, some wear off me, some grow on me, and some keep their first impressions. I still want Marisa first (Hispanic), then Star Dancer (Indian), then a bride (white) called With This Ring, as in with this ring I thee wed…

Knocking some of the things off the list will save money. Also, by the time I get these 3 dolls, there’ll be 10 more I want, so wanting 6 non-doll things is better than 10.

Here’s an idea: If I get $35 for my birthday unless it’s needed for bills, groceries, or some kind of necessity, I’ll combine it with whatever pennies are left over from Tom’s electric razor loot, and get the living room mural! That’ll knock it down to just 5 non-doll things, and then I can maybe get 1 of the 3 dolls I want for Christmas! It always goes without saying, though, that the necessities come first.

Later...

Tom said that he warned the phone company that we weren’t about to pay for anything we couldn’t use. Therefore, we’ll just go cellular if we have to. Anyway, they’re supposed to come out to work outside the house today. Tom said I can just ignore them if they knock, cuz they don’t need to come in. No prob. At least I shouldn’t have to worry about them waking me up. I was up over 18 hours yesterday and slept till nearly midnight, so I shouldn’t be needing to go to bed till late afternoon. If we do drop the main phone, I’ll give Paula the cell number.

Star Dancer’s a nice doll, but I think I’ll put her on hold and go after Marisa and the bride first.

Dave’s mom is coming to visit from New York in October, so Tom’s mom may actually stay with us for a week or two, believe it or not.

Forgot to mention that Ratsy was out yesterday morning. I couldn’t believe it! He didn’t run around like he used to, though. It was still quite an unexpected and pleasant surprise for the old, arthritic guy!

We are getting the big screen TV, after all! I didn’t get up till 7:30, and I guess Tom had just gone to bed, cuz he left me a note saying he spoke to Mary. Cool! I think I’ll take the entertainment center in my office, cuz it’s just not suitable for the mice. Especially when I want to have more cages set up.

I both dread and look forward to tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it because I want to find out what’s going on with Mary, but I dread it, knowing it’s not going to be good news.

I’m not only back to 115 pounds, but to 116! What the fuck did I do to gain more than 5 pounds back, and so fast? I was stuck, but now that I’m not, and now that I took a water pill, perhaps I’ll drop back down, but why the fuck can’t I just fucking lose 15 more pounds and keep it off?! I’m sick of this yo-yo rut I’ve been in!

Maybe not that predictable. I actually have a light flow and would count this as being a period.

I also had a vibe saying I’ll need a full hysterectomy when I’m between 36-37. This fits. I mean, it’s something God would do, but why in my mid-30s and not when I was 20? Obviously, he wanted me to feel teased by his not cumming, even though I knew deep down since I was a little girl that I’d never have a kid. How do I feel about having a hysterectomy? Well, again, I don’t like my decisions being made for me, and I don’t like having more and more options and doors slammed shut on me, but decision-making is also hard for me because I’m not used to it. So, it’s one less decision I have to make (having invitro) cuz I’m just so undecided, and I have been for the last few years. Meaning, I’m not dead set against a kid, and I’m not dead set for one, either. I feel that if I never try for invitro, I’ll wish I did, and if I do, I’ll wish I didn’t. So, one less tough choice to make. Also, a hysterectomy would end Tom’s fears, but that doesn’t mean he’d start cumming. He’s not going to do anything that’d admit I was right about him being scared. Periods are a bitch, so that’s a plus there; not having to deal with them. So, knowing I’m not fated to have a kid, knowing I don’t want one bad enough like I used to – I’ll take a hysterectomy if that’s what I’m in for. As long as I don’t have any serious suffering to do along the way – sure, why not? I don’t mind cutting out on periods a decade or so early.

I cut out on Ratsy’s wheel. He no longer uses it to wheel with. He’s just too weak. He only uses it to sit on, and he got his foot caught between the rungs again for the fifth time. So I chained it up high in the cage, out of his reach, for Houdini to sit in, but he seldom wheels. He prefers getting his exercise by running around loose.

I forgot to mention that the renters were hammering at midnight last night. Yeah, that’s an Arizonan for you. I was lying in bed reading when I heard it, but just for 5 seconds. I can’t imagine what the fuck they’d be hammering at that hour, and Dan’s place was too dark to be the one doing it. I figured it was the renters, cuz when I looked out back at midnight the front light was on. An hour later it was off.

I printed out all the calendars for Mary, Dave, mom, and the ones for us, grids and all. This is because the phone’s so fucked up he can’t download the holiday list I wanted. If he manages to, though, I’ll just write them in on the calendar we’ll keep in the kitchen by hand.

Wow, it’s only just after midnight and it’s already down to 64 degrees out there. For the first time this year, I can really feel winter starting to set in. Thank God! It’s still hot in the daytime, and I still don’t miss the bitter cold of New England, but after having 8-9 months of nothing but intense heat, it’s nice for a change. I don’t mind a couple of months of a little shiver after sweating my ass off for so many damn months!

It’s been days now since I’ve seen Ratsy climb up to the tube. How sad it is seeing him get so old and feeble. Still making funny noises, too.

Later...

We decided to get rid of the Internet. Why pay for something we can’t use since all they do is crash us or not let us online? Besides, the extra money wouldn’t hurt. We still don’t know how much more these freeloaders are going to cost us. It’s one thing for me to go down on account of those who harassed me for years, but another to do it while we’re broke!

I didn’t run heat last night, but if it had gotten a few degrees cooler I would have. Remember, temperatures feel cooler than they do in the east out here. 80 degrees is miserably hot in New England, but here, 80 degrees is quite comfy with how dry it is. So, when it got down to 74 degrees in here early in the morning, it felt like it was in the 50s.

Although I slept from around 8:00–5:30, I was still tired when I got up. I guess it’s because I’ve been waking up constantly throughout my sleep. Hopefully, if the freeloaders will ever let me go, I’ll sleep better. But until this shit is over and until I find out how much more I gotta pay for something I should never have had to pay for in the beginning, I’m pretty stressed out. Anyway, I ended up lying down this evening. Tom said I was out cold for nearly two hours, but I thought I had barely dozed off and that it had only been for about 45 minutes. Nerves have a way of really beating one down!

As I figured would be the case by today, that little gush I had last night is gone. I’ve tapered down to just a few spots here and there. At least that much is predictable. So now I’ll have to deal with the expense and hassle of wearing a liner till I get another half-assed flow in a week or two.

And now it’s been exactly one year since we left Freeloaderville! God, how did my life come to be such a mess despite having such a quieter area and nicer house?! Well, anything’s better than living with Doe and Art or Brattleboro or Valleyhead or Oswego Street, the NHA, PHX, etc.

I decided to highlight all my entry dates in yellow. It shows up the best, even on paper. On paper, all the other colors are much darker than they appear on screen, making the text hard to read.

All our calendars are made up, except for the date grids. This is because I’m waiting for Tom to get me that holiday list. He said he couldn’t get online most of the day cuz our wonderfully competent phone company just had to go play with the lines again, and the phone was out all day. Anyway, for our 4 calendars, which will go in each of our offices, plus the kitchen area, plus the guest room, I’ve used a wide variety of pics. Pet pics, scenery, wildlife, flowers, etc.

Believe it or not, I’ve added a little bit of floor work to my workout routine. I still think floor work alone can only get you so far unless you’re old, weak and feeble, or some 200-pound mama, but it helps, in addition to the Bowflex exercises. I’m only doing my lower body, though. It’s just something extra to do to give extra help to those more problem areas.

Houdini was so cute earlier. I made us a tortilla treat, and he jumped up in my lap as soon as I sat down on the floor, trying desperately to grab a piece before I could get the chance to tear him off a piece and hand it to him. Just like the last time I did a rollover, he’s adapted his schedule to mine. Guess that rat likes me a lot! Ratsy was having trouble breathing and was making these funny noises. Tom said he doubts he has much longer to go, but every time I think that he surprises me with living on and on. He’s a toughie!

Daytime weather’s still hot, but evenings and mornings have become pleasant, even chilly. I won’t need any AC for the rest of the night until the sun comes up. Another week or two, and we’ll be turning the AC off and using heat at night.

Later...

What the fuck is going on? Just what the fuck is this? I was sitting there when all of a sudden I felt wet down there. Well, it turns out I’ve got my period, yet I just had one, although it was half-assed, a couple of weeks ago. This is more than just spots too, although I don’t expect it’ll last long. I expect it’ll drop to spots and that I’ll spot for a week or two till I get another half-assed flow. Just like last time, it started instantly, in the middle of my day. The only thing that’s different this time around is that I have no cramps, whereas the last time I had tons of cramps for so little bleeding. Usually, periods start in your sleep. What is this? Wacky hormones? Menopause setting in early? Something else?

There is some good news. I hit down at 111 pounds! And coincidentally, I recently had a vibe of hitting down at 109 pounds. Finally! I thought I’d never quit bouncing between 112-115 and my not having any vibes or dreams about losing more weight for seemingly so long, was rather discouraging. Anyway, my metabolism’s really speeded up. I’ve been consuming 1500-2000 calories a day lately. I’m starting to feel more and more like my old self like when I was in my 20s. The one who could eat whatever she wanted without worrying about it, although she certainly eats less junk nowadays. The one whose body spit out and rejected calories, for the most part, rather than gladly taking them in to store them as fat. I’m almost a new woman, too! My coffee with sugar in it is almost gone. I’ll be a sugar-free woman in no time!

Despite my lack of desire for my limp-dicked husband, I kind of couldn’t help feeling somewhat bummed and humiliated by his apparent lack of interest in me as I paraded around him naked. He’s had plenty of opportunities too, day after day, but he just doesn’t want me. Does he not want me, or does he not want sex, though? Guess I’ll never know. I may still have a fat face, neck and ass, and I may still be a bit thick-waisted with hips still a little too wide, but I could be worse. I know I don’t look great; certainly not like I did when we first met (although he tells me I’m beautiful), but I’m not an ugly blimp, either.

It got all the way down to the low 60s yesterday before dawn, and I don’t expect we’ll need the AC for the rest of the night. It’s not even 9:00 and it’s already dropped to 77 degrees out there.

She got me. Yeah, but this time it wasn’t the black bitch. It was Doe. Once again, how wonderful it is to know I never have to see my parents again or ever be abused by them again, but what a shame it is to know I have to live with the memories. Memories that pop into my head spontaneously. It doesn’t matter what mood I’m in, where I am, what I’m doing; they can come to mind any time, any day, any place. And believe me, the memories are almost as detrimental to my mental health as the actual events were. They really cause a lot of stress, anxiety, sadness, and sometimes, still a bit of anger, too. How one can hurt over something that happened nearly 25 years ago? Telling myself it’s done and over with, I can’t change the past, move on, don’t think about it, it can’t happen again isn’t always so easy. No one could easily forget that their own mother would’ve left them to die if circumstances had been just a little bit different.

I was forcefully remembering the time I starved myself for a few days at the beach. I had no liquids either. Hey, I was only around 10, so I didn’t know any better about the importance of water. On the third day of no food/liquids, I couldn’t lift my head off the pillow when I awoke. I probably wrote about this before, but anyway, she didn’t feel the least bit sorry for me. Her exact words to me, and I remember them as if she’d said them just yesterday, were, “You did it, you correct it.” 

That’s some mother I had, huh? Yeah, I did a stupid thing, but what do you expect from a kid so young? Utter perfection? If it weren’t for that bedroom being right off the kitchen, and if it weren’t for the cabinets containing food being about 5’ away, I’d be dead for sure. I remember how strenuous it was to get up, grab that Devil Dog out of the cabinet, then hop back into bed. I pretty much fell back into bed. Anyway, I could ever so barely muster up the strength to do this, and I remember it took 10 minutes to slow my heart down and gather enough strength just to eat the damn thing. I think – tell me I wouldn’t have died if the food had been further away or even on another floor. Tell me my own mother wouldn’t have let me die – but she would have. She just didn’t care. Perhaps I did the wrong thing by saving myself. Maybe I should’ve let myself die instead of fighting for my life that day while she played backgammon in the next room with her gal pal Charlotte, determined to have a good time and not let her virtually dying daughter ruin her day. Maybe I should’ve let go and given up, sparing myself many years of emotional and physical grief, and maybe teaching this pitiful excuse of a mother a lesson. Maybe it would’ve served her right if I’d died when I jumped instead of breaking my arm. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Later...

Another hour will mark the date we moved exactly one year ago. I never would’ve believed it in a million years if someone had told me the freeloaders would still be a problem, either!

I feel both rejected and relieved by Tom’s not hitting me for sex after all this time. Maybe I don’t turn him off, but I sure feel like I don’t turn him on, either. I feel like the last time I really turned him on was when we first met. It’s that way for me, too. I know most of his turnoff stems from his baby fears and his stubbornness to admit this to me. I still think something’s wrong with me, but it doesn’t matter cuz a woman doesn’t have to be sterile for a kid to be not meant to be. I just wish he could see this! Even if he opts to never cum again, I wish he could see that there’s no way I could conceive anyway, and if there ever was the slightest chance that I could, he’s made sure that that’ll never happen.

Regardless of who’s afraid of what and of what’s destined, I wish I’d started things off right! I wish I’d let him screw me from the get-go and not been like I was; having to go slow. I wish I’d been on birth control. Maybe that would’ve saved us from a lot of BS; if I had gone by the fact that most guys don’t want kids, and by the fact that I’ve known pretty much all my life that that wasn’t meant to be anyway, and had gotten on birth control or gotten myself permanently fixed.

Sometimes I wonder – did this man, who’s so wonderful and so close to perfect 95% of the time, trick me into marriage by telling me he’d cum regularly and that he wasn’t afraid to have a kid? Did he, and is he still, assuming I’d just throw my life away on account of his cumless dick and fears to just sit home all my life and clean the house? Did he assume I’d give up and lose the desire to pursue my dreams? Well, I definitely lost the desire, and I’d definitely rather be bored here at home with him than worse off all alone somewhere else. If I’m right about any of this, though – how dare he take me for granted like that, assume so much, and risk losing me while doing it! I may not want a kid like I used to, but the point’s still the same – he’s always lied, strung me along, and made such lame excuses about it, and I wish to hell he’d come clean. If he hasn’t yet, he obviously never will level with me honestly about his not cumming, unless he intends to wait till after menopause. Nonetheless, he should’ve leveled with me up front. I had a right to know the truth from the start. Not figure it out for myself in time by watching his actions. If he had had a genuine physical problem or came out and bluntly admitted to not wanting a kid, that would’ve been OK. I’d still have loved him enough to marry him. And whether or not he continues to bullshit me, I’m with him for life either way, but it’d still be nice to hear the truth. Knowing the truth and seeing the truth is one thing, but having it admitted to you is another. I don’t expect I’ll ever get an admission from him like I should have up front, but better a late one than to never receive one at all.

Do I want him to hit on me tomorrow, Sunday, our usual sex day? Yes and no. If he’s reading my journals he’d know I might be ovulating at this time (if I really do) so that may either scare him off or scare him into playing games, which he also finds quite amusing. You know, the one where he “forgets” how to fuck me, or is just too soft altogether. Sometimes he never gets hard, other times he deflates right before he’s about to enter me. Then again, I might’ve mentioned bleeding a couple of weeks ago, and so he wouldn’t necessarily need to read this with his great memory. And he has an easier time, like most of us, remembering the things that are most important to him, too. Anyway, I want him to hit on me so I don’t have to feel like some abnormal freak (something I feel enough of already), and I don’t want to feel like a turnoff, but he turns me off as well, just for different reasons. So, I don’t want him to hit on me, cuz I can’t get aroused because of his predictability and because of his not getting all that into it. It’s hard to get off by someone who doesn’t get off by you, and God only knows I managed to do so for the first year or two. I’m not saying I’d necessarily get off regularly if we suddenly had spontaneous sex where I never knew what to expect in bed from him, and where there was a 50/50 chance of his cumming, but I might more often.

Tom may find me more of a turnoff than any other woman he’s been with, due to how bad I wanted a kid at first and cuz of my aggressiveness, but I don’t think he’s ever been a very sexual person to begin with. He’s just not big on sex and is even sort of prudish. The guy wanted me to shut the blinds in the bedroom one time, and I was like – oh, please! How the hell are people going to see in a house with no lights on, in the daytime, from a few hundred feet away? If it weren’t for his low drive and prudishness, I might wonder if he was cheating. They say that if you’re not getting it from your mate, you’re getting it elsewhere, but this usually applies to those with an appetite.