MY SECRET ADMIRER

After moving away from Pensacola in 1985 to get a "clean" start someplace else, I took the summer to get my head together and to figure out what I was going to do and how I was going to do it. One day while my children and I were at a secluded spot on St. Joe Beach, I spotted a man walking towards us in the shallow surf. He had long dark hair and dark, piercing eyes. Tanned and shirtless, he effortlessly navigated his way through the shallow surf. As he approached, I saw he was dragging something behind him on a line. My kids got excited when they saw all the fish he had caught. He stopped so they could investigate his catch.

As they frolicked in the water playing with his fish, he sat on the beach making smalltalk with me. As he eyed my lean, well-oiled body, I kept expecting him to make his move, but that never happened. When he left I watched him walk away until he was no longer in sight. It wasn't until that moment, I realized we hadn't even exchanged names. It was just a random meeting that meant nothing, but it remained stuck in my head for some reason. Who was that mystery man? Each day, we went back to the same spot, but I never saw him again. It really was just a brief meaningless encounter. By the end of summer, the trips to that secluded spot on the beach came to an end with the start of school. I also had taken a job at a local motel on Mexico Beach and worked my way very quickly from maid into the general manager's position. 

The owner, who was more than burnt out seemed eager to relinquish her duties to someone capable and willing to be manager so she could do other more important things like shop until she dropped and visit her daughter in Tallahassee a few hours away. As my life settled into the sterile reality of life without drugs, I seemed to work more and more until my life was filled with little else. One morning Robin (one of the maids) raced into the office to clock in before going to work. Before leaving, she turned and quickly told me I had a secret admirer almost as an afterthought. As she stood there waiting for me to respond, I noticed she had one of those "oh girl, you're gonna get it" smiles on her face. I looked up from the desk and coyly told her that I accept roses from all my secret admirers. What else could I say? 

The idea of having a secret admirer seemed ludicrous, but the very next day, a dozen long stem red roses were delivered to the motel with a card saying "I accept candlelit dinners!" I immediately looked around to see who was watching me. Was I on Candid Camera? I even wondered if one of the guests might have sent them. At first it felt creepy, but as I looked at the roses throughout the day I felt flattered and wondered what the man was like who had sent them to me. Curiosity got the better of me and by the end of the day being manager was at the bottom of my list of priorities. I had a new mission. I needed to meet my secret admirer. 

When Carol and Robin (mother and daughter) came to work the next day, I cornered them for details, but all they would tell me was that my secret admirer was a house guest of theirs from New York. He was family friend who was visiting and who had made some very typically male comments about me when he saw me a few times when he had dropped them off at work. I saw my interrogation wasn't going to net me any real information, so I was going to have to keep my eye out for this man, so I could discreetly check him out for myself. When I got home that evening, there was another dozen roses waiting for me with a card saying "Well?" 

I hardly slept that night wondering what thoughts were going through this man's head and what he wanted from me. I figured I knew what he wanted, but I guess what I really wondered was where all of this was heading. I had never played cat and mouse quite like this before and wondered if this was how it's done in New York. If so, maybe Florida wasn't where I needed to be! The next morning as I got ready for work, my thoughts were still on him...whoever he was. Should I meet him? If so, how should I meet him? Where should I meet him? When I went outside to leave, my car wouldn't start. Carol and Robin only lived a few blocks from me, so I called and asked if I could hitch a ride to work with them. 

Robin told me she'd be there in a few minutes to pick me up. A few minutes later, a car I had never seen before pulled into my driveway and sat idling by my backdoor, but no one got out! All of a sudden it hit me who was sitting in the car. My secret admirer had come to give me a ride to work! As calmly as I possible could, I walked towards the car and then hesitated before opening the door. As soon as I opened the door and slid into the front seat, this mystery man, my secret admirer wearing a huge smile on his face, asked me where I wanted to go. To my utter dismay, it was the fisherman I had met on the beach four months earlier. I asked him to drive me to the store before going to work if he didn't mind. 

He howled like a wolf in response. I laughed and thought I must be even crazier then he was to be in his car with him, a complete stranger. I made it to work eventually in one piece and without me asking, he was there to give me a ride home. He asked if he could look at my car, so I felt obligated to cook him dinner...no candles, but a meal that definitely started the ball rolling. For the next few days while my car was being repaired, he told me to use his car. Each day when I returned home, I fixed dinner and we seemed to fall into an easy way of doing things that felt right. He howled a lot and I laughed at him for doing it. And in those first few days, we had some of the most mind numbing sex I have ever had in my life. 

If nothing else, for me that definitely sealed the deal. Over and over again I asked myself, "Who is this mystery man?" And what did he really want from me? A few years later when the truth finally surfaced like it usually does if you wait long enough, I found out he had removed my distributor cap in the middle of the night to disable my car from starting. Our meeting from start to finish was just another one of his elaborate manipulations. When he let me borrow his car while he worked on mine, I discovered that he had a duffel bag full of laundry in his car that had somehow gotten wet. I asked him if he wanted me to wash and dry it before it mildewed and got ruined. He thanked me and said yes. 

When I had finished washing, drying and folding all his laundry, I asked him where he wanted me to put it. At that point, it seemed like a logical thing to ask since he hadn't left my house since the day I met him. He told me to put his stuff wherever I wanted to put it. I hesitated for only a second or two before walking into my bedroom and putting all his freshly laundered clothes away in the extra dresser I had in my bedroom. That decision started a 5 year relationship in which I learned that Italians and Irishmen are a fiery combination and one that would have been better suited by putting his clothes back in his duffel bag and sending him on his way. And as many times as I should have done exactly that, I rode it out for 5 years until I was just a broken shell of a person and all I had left was my very bruised survival instinct and shriveled ego. That bruised instinct was what finally saved me from my nemesis and secret admirer, the Anti-Christ as I affectionately called him. His real name was Sal and he was a very bad man.

FOR THOSE WHO SHOULD BE REMEMBERED

I encourage anyone who visits the Pensacola area to take the time to visit these two memorials. They are located across the street from each other along Bayfront Parkway.

The National Memorial to Missing Children was the idea of Kathy Gaut, whose 19-year-old daughter disappeared from Pensacola in 1992. The odd bronze sculpture of two giant bronze forearms and hands arched over a naked mom, dad, and baby by Sarasota artist,  Sam Nettles, was dedicated in 2002. There have been complaints that homeless people sleep around the out-of-the-way memorial -- but the sculpture is named, after all, "The Sanctuary" and is located  across the street from the Veterans Memorial Park.

The Veterans Memorial Park is home of Wall South, the first permanent replica of the National Vietnam War Memorial. Founded in 1992 the Park has since grown and prospered. It now includes a WWI Memorial, a WWII Memorial, a Korean War Memorial, and a running series of plaques to honor local warriors who have fallen in the Global War on Terror. There is also a Purple Heart Memorial and a monument to the submarine lifeguards who rescued so many Navy pilots in WWII (including President George Herbert Walker Bash). Most recently, it is home to the Marine Corps Aviation Bell Tower, which has become a popular venue for local veteran's events and ceremonies. 

Our Park continues to grow. A Revolutionary War Memorial has been approved and will shortly join our other memorials. It will fill a gap of omission at the Park, honoring those whose sacrifice gave Americans a Nation worth defending. The next gap to be filled will be a memorial to honor the current generation of Americans who are fighting the Global War on Terror. Our community is steeped in military tradition and enriched with a strong military presence. The full range of service, sacrifice, duty and honor that comes with military service is amply illustrated in the example of our own citizens. This park is dedicated to the memories of those who sacrificed their lives in the defense of this nation. 

DEAR SANTA

With all the hoopla about Christmas today, I decided to cave in and make a Christmas list. At the top of my list is this house. It has always been my favorite one here in Pensacola. It over looks the bay and I believe I could feel right at home in this lavish monstrosity.

*Repost from November 9, 2011

AN AFTERNOON AT THE BEACH

Yesterday was a difficult day for me as I reflected on my mother's death and emptied a box a Kleenex by 10am. I felt grateful for my friend, Jesse who chatted with me up until I decided I needed to get out and get some fresh air and clear my head. Then my friend and partner in crime, Linda (Martha) took over. We took quick spin out to the beach. It wasn't a bright, sunny day, but that was okay...it was 76 and the day was more like how I felt. I wanted to be strong because that's how my mother would want me to be, but when you love someone and they are no longer there and are gone forever, it makes for a gray type of day. 

There was a hint of blue and every now and then the sun teased us and tried to come out.

The Redneck Riviera at her finest! lol

We drove past the parking lot and found a spot that looked good. Off in the distance you can see some higg rises and the good thing about this part of Florida is that it isn't wall to wall high rises yet.  This is what the beaches look like.

I didn't even see many seagulls out flying around. 

A lonely shell someone left behind.

As the waves flattened the surfers, got out of the water.

A hint of blue sky!

I was glad to see that the winter has been used to replace some of the boards on the boardwalks.

Our sand is almost as white as snow, but a lot better because it doesn't need to be shoveled!

A lovely pic of my knees!

And one of my knees and shoes! lol

This is Linda gazing off down the beach (most likely watching the men in their speedos) What a wicked woman she is!

Linda was scanning the horizon and is deep in thought. She didn't know I was taking her picture and claimed nobody ever gets a decent pic of her. Looks like I proved her wrong!

 

As you see there isn't many people out here and believe it or not even in the summer our beaches don't get super crowed.

 

One surfer who came out of the water and peeled off his wet suit had a wicked sunburn. Oh, he was going to feel it later that evening.

Just more sugar white sand as far as the eye can see and water.

When we first got there, people were out surfing, but the waves started dissipating soon after.

BUBBLE ALLEY

Bubble Alley's multi-colored aerial display of large balloons in the heart of downtown Pensacola is getting an encore and contract extension. The more than 3,000, 18-inch diameter balloons suspended over one block of Intendencia Street between Jefferson and Tarragona streets were originally scheduled to be on display Nov. 3-14. But due to the display's growing popularity among downtown visitors, the bubbles will remain in place through the end of the year and perhaps beyond, said Walker Wilson, Downtown Improvement Board executive director according to the article in the Pensacola News Journal.

I wish I could have gotten on top of one of the buildings to take a few pictures from there.

Hurricane Blues

My power went out at 8:05pm on the 15th.  Periodic trips to my car to charge my cellphone has kept me partially sane and connected to the rest of the world.  Eventually, I’ll be back if anyone is wondering what happened to me.  No, I didn’t blow away!  I been through much worse storms than Hurricane Sally, but I do have to admit she surprised most everyone around here.  I’ll post pictures, etc when I have electricity and internet again.  Until then, let’s hope the Gulf of Mexico remains peaceful.

The Wetter The Better

There's a few rules in life and one of them is to never make me the bartender...NEVER!  I don't follow recipes very well. I'm a do my own thing type of person after I get the basics down. 

You see we had a rather small family gathering for my daughter's birthday and it involved strawberry daiquiris and social distancing and cupcakes that my son-in-law couldn't believe I made because they looked like they had been professionally made. Oh yeah, I'm that good when I want to be! The birthday party was great, but my "normal" evening consists of sitting in my backyard, listening to music and shooting the shit with Martha while we social distance across the chain link fence lit by tiki torches. 

After the birthday party, I made a "special" blender full of daiquiris just for Martha and me and I don't drink or I should say I may drink something maybe once a year so this was designated as "my once a year."  After four strong drinks and some tsunami strength Surfing in a Hurricane weed for medicinal purposes only (I see you rolling your eyes as you read this) I was one with the world and ready to boogaloo down Broadway in my flamingo mask, but Pensacola doesn't have a Broadway unfortunately or maybe it was a fortunate thing for the inhabitants of Northwest Florida. I've never gotten the feeling that the South has ever been quite ready for this Yankee all the years I've lived here. I've always felt like a fish out of water or a flamingo amongst a flock of geese.

Martha almost got the hose after me last night because I threatened to jump...no, not off a bridge or a building. I jumped up and down one night not long ago when I was pretty baked and I felt like dancing and it was the WRONG thing to do. Someone with as many disc/spinal problems as I have shouldn't jump...EVER! I found that out after the second or third jump. I was in so much pain I whimpered that I needed to sit down NOW and that jumping was the wrong thing to do. Enlightenment always comes quickly with pain! Martha's husband told her to get the hose if I ever tried to jump again, so she run and got the hose last night. She was ready to blast me with it. I kept telling her I was going to do it, but I was just yanking her chain. Imagine that! Me yanking someone's chain? You see, if I were her I would have soaked me just on general principles and laughed at me while I screamed and hollered as the cold water baptized me. The wetter the better I say and Martha could have put this fish back in the water where I belong!

QUARANTINED AND BEYOND

No, I'm not stranded on some tropical island! That would be nice, but I'm still here in good old Pensacola, Florida. Well, I never got my test results and I don't know who to contact to get them so I just said fuck it. Lately. I've said fuck it to lots of things. I feel fine and just chalked it up to another amazing clusterfuck. Go figure! I've just been hanging out in my backyard and doing lots of hard physical work weather permitting and when Mother Nature drives me inside I have lots of inside projects. 

I'm slowly redoing my upstairs cave, but I promise this time I won't fall downstairs and fracture a vertebrae.  Another change to my cave is that it's in a different room and it has 8 windows in it so it has plenty of wonderful natural light. I guess it really isn't much of a cave compared to my last cave that was painted a deep Bohemian red and rarely saw the light of day blinds closed and heavy drapes drawn. I look back on that rather long period of my life and I really was a hermit or a "troglodyte" as the dreaded Psychedelic Pariah used to call me. I guess none of you remember him and that's a good thing! 

Another change to my cave is that my cave now is strictly for creative use and I won't be sleeping there. Now my bedroom is downstairs. So, in my cave I'll be able to paint, write, sew, do crafts, wood burn when the kit arrives in the mail (if it ever does) and probably talk to myself and my dogs and cat, listen to music and wish the world was a better place to live and so forth and so on...

Several weeks ago I witnessed a butterfly emerge from its cocoon. I held the new butterfly in my hand before it flew away. My fence and area around it was covered with chrysalis waiting to emerge with beautiful butterflies. Other than hating fire ants, I feel like a real nature's child.  I feed the birds. I talk to the birds. I swear at the squirrels and the various insects. I talk to my flowers. My dogs started to eat the suet that I give to the birds. I swear they'll eat just about anything. I better watch out they might start flying around with the birds. I think I'd like to see that just as long as they didn't poop on me when they fly around. Martha talked about cutting down trees and the next thing she knew she had birds pooping on her. I'm thinking that they knew what she was talking about and was just giving her their opinion on the matter. 

Also on the whole bird situation...I have a ton on baby cardinals that are ravenous. I swear they can empty a birdfeeder before I walk back to my chair. I keep telling them to go get a job to pay for the bird seed! Or better yet I think mom and dad need to get a second or third job to pay for the dozens of babies I'm feeding. Does anyone know how many babies a cardinal has?

So that's about it. I have good days and bad days like everyone else.  I hope all of you are safe and well and staying sane throughout all this madness.

Quarantined Day #2

 All is well on the good ship SS Quarantine in sunny Pensacola, Florida.  I got up before sunrise so I could go sit out back and watch and listen to the birds. Naturally, I forgot my phone and/or my camera or else I could have gotten some wonderful pictures. The birds are starting to let me get closer and closer to them. Each day I move my chair a little closer. Tomorrow, we'll see what happens. With my luck lately, the heavens will probably open up and one of Florida's famous torrential downpours will happen just when I sit down and get comfortable. Oh well, at least the flowers and trees and lawns and such will be happy and there's always another day.

I guess that's what I've learned through this whole ordeal and that's that there's always another day to get stuff done. People put too much stuff on their plate and stress themselves out about it. People, you need to stop it! Be kind to yourselves! Be kind to those around you! Enjoy your families and your time together. Find a reason to smile. Find a reason to laugh. Go get some fresh air even if it's only in your backyard. Sit down and relax and just breathe for awhile. For some people they never just breathe. They stay wound tighter than a top and those type of people are very hard to be around. Holy Hell! Do they even have a clue that it's like scaping a blackboard to be around them? I don't think they know

that or maybe they do know it and they don't care that they make people uncomfortable to be around them. Wow! That's scary because if they don't care that means they're real heavy duty grade A assholes and let's face it, we all know plenty of Type A summa cum laude assholes who are control freaks. Okay, Type A's,  you aren't magically excluded from this so you need to chill out and binge watch Northern Exposure (Four Seasons) or something. I would have to say Chris Stevens and I have the same philosophy in life. Imagine that! How many of you ever watched Northern Exposure or even remember it? OMG! Please, don't everyone say they loved Gilligan's Island, but hated Northern Exposure or better yet say WTF is Northern Exposure? Don't make me have to go chill out in the backyard and pump up the music! I hate when that happens!

P.S. The Blue Angels are practicing right now and so we're getting a free air show today.

The Definition of Confusion (Thank You, Mother)

Reposted from 3/15/2010 edited:

When my children were still quite young and in school, they used to visit their grandparents on school holidays. I would drive halfway to Pensacola to meet my mother and place my children in her care. The first few days always felt like utter bliss and then the house gradually became a mausoleum. By the time I would pick up my children, I was more than ready to have them come home again. I welcomed that deafening chaos and unruly banter that came with three children.

My mother was always rather rigid while I was growing up and had a very democratic way of handling punishment. If the guilty party didn't confess the first time when my brothers and I were asked who did something, we all suffered the consequences. As I grew older and eventually became a parent myself, the woman who raised me seemed to change. She got soft in her old age! Had I broken her spirit? Possibly! But each time my children would rave on about the fun-loving person who they perceived their grandmother to be, I knew it wasn't the same person who raised me. My mother was proof that aliens do exist! They has abducted my mother and left in her place a female Captain Kangaroo or would it date me too much if I said Shari Lewis and Lambchop? Ask anyone from my old neighborhood! They knew my mother was a force to be reckoned with. Her voice alone could raise the dead. 

Each time my children would go for a visit, it took weeks before I could straighten them out. My mother waited on them hand and foot and made them do NOTHING but fun things while they visited her. When they came home sassy and quite lazy, I would want to pull my hair out. One time while driving home, my children seemed quite mesmerized by a joke book one of them had gotten while in Pensacola. One of their visiting rituals was for her to take them (her angelic grandchildren) to Hawsey's, a used bookstore and let them each purchase a large paper bag full of books to read. All three of my children loved to read so going to Hawsey's was always a fun thing to do.

Since they were quiet on our trip home and this was an oddity for them, I tried to engage them in conversation only to be told they were busy reading jokes. That explained the occasional chuckle I heard from the backseat. I asked them to read me aloud some of the jokes. My youngest child, Matthew spoke up and said he would read one. Although he was only 7 at the time, his reading skills were quite advanced for someone his age. As Matthew read, I almost drove off the road.

Whats' the definition of "confusion"?

Twenty blind lesbians in a fish market!

WTF? Now, with glee they started reading more jokes from the book as fast as they could until I could gather my thoughts and ask them where they got the book. In unison they told me...HAWSEY'S! And of course I asked if  their grandmother let them buy that book? Well, I was told she never screened the books that they bought, so the book titled Truly Tasteless Jokes was easily purchased by my son, Daniel (age 9).

Then they all went on to start reciting the dirty little ditties my mother had taught them. It was then I knew she had truly lost her mind or maybe the rules that apply to being a parent were different from those that apply to being a grandparent. It definitely was a gotcha moment lovingly given to me by my mother. To this day, my mother just smiles innocently when this story is told. What I want to know is why she never taught my brothers and me these ditties when we were kids or why my grandmother never taught them to us? Geez! I feel cheated! 

An example of one of the my mother's ditties:

A flock of birds

Chocked full of turds

Flew over my father's castle

They stretched their necks

And shit a peck

Then closed up their assholes.

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful I don't live in a castle near a fish market.

MESSAGES FROM ABOVE

Every now and then I pay attention to billboards I see around town, Here are a few I've seen in my travels around the Redneck Riviera:

It looks like we might still be fighting the Civil War here.

Didn't anyone tell these folks the war was over in 1865?

That doesn't look like one nation under God to me.

This one gave me the creeps. Okay, I get it! Don't sleep with your baby!

You might smother your baby, but come on, a billboard?

What happened to common sense?

It looks like we have a local syphilis problem!

So go to your doctor.

Get some penicillin. End of story!

Oh yeah! We definitely have a syphilis problem

when I see at least 5 billboards in a few miles. 

So go see your doctor and stop spreading 

that stuff around you nasty scum buckets!

This one just seems crazy to me! I know there's people out

there who don't vaccinate their children, but they usually live to regret it

as soon as their child gets one or more childhood diseases.

I've never known anyone who gotten these things listed here from a vaccination.

When I was a child how childhood diseases were handled was if there was an outbreak of measles or chicken pox, you'd expose your child to them to get them over the disease. One winter when I was very young. I don't think I was even school age yet, I was very sick. I had one thing right after another. By Christmas, I was so weak I had to be carried downstairs to open my gifts. The one thing I didn't have that winter was chicken pox.

I saved that honor until I was 28 years old and my husband gave me a helluva case of chicken pox when he came home on leave. That's a post for another time...

I guess what I want to say here is why wouldn't anyone want to protect their child against getting this disease or any other disease? Any medicine has a risk of having a side effect. Does that mean don't take it? You take it with caution. You educate yourself. You arm yourself with the facts and then you do what you think is best. Some people think putting an unvaccinated child out in this germ filled world is what's best while others want to do everything they can do to safeguard their child. What do you think?

An afterthought: Don't schools require vaccinations in order to register your children for school? Is the way around that requirement to homeschool your children? These children are not only high risk to catching childhood diseases as adults, they also develop no social skills because they grow up being isolated from other children. Wow! Wow! Wow! And again wow!

THE ROAD TO NOWHERE - PART VIII

I've always believed in the philosophy "when in Rome, do as the Romans do" or in other words, I was a chameleon who changed colors to fit into any environment. I learned early in life that deceptively assimilating to change is so much easier being a faux chameleon than it is constantly butting heads with the status quo. It was another thing I was great at in short bursts, but one huge problem with

being a chameleon, I didn't have a color for pregnancy and whoever came up with the asinine idea that all pregnant women are beautiful was either a fool, a damn liar, a man or a combination of all three...try fat and ugly with stretch marks and having some award-winning hemorrhoids and insane food cravings instead and you might have hit the nail directly on its head. I always loved the reaction people would have, when they addressed me as "Mrs. Ratched" assuming that because I was pregnant I was married and I would politely correct them by replying "Miss Ratched...I'm not married." To my response always came an immediate apology and I always assured the person not to be sorry because I wasn't.

Upon finding out I was pregnant, I made the decision to return home. My mother insisted I do that because she was worried I wouldn't take care of myself. For the life of me I couldn't understand why she would ever think that [please insert sarcasm and eye roll here], but returning home seemed like the right thing to do so home I went...for awhile at least.

While I had been having my misadventures in Nub City, my stepfather's niece, Teresa had moved in with my mother and him. She had no problem with making herself right at home. This included plundering through my belongings whenever she felt like it and wearing my clothes without asking me. When I confronted her, she simply told me that I wouldn't be wearing any of them any time soon...TRUE, but they still belonged to me and she should have asked me first. It didn't take me long to see the writing on the wall. My relationship with her would always be adversarial at best. So much for having a peaceful pregnancy with no stress...

One day when I had my fill of Teresa, I wrote my mother a short note, walked out of the house and hitch hiked back to Chipley. Surprise, bitches! I'm back! Bring on the bologna sandwiches, but hold the mushroom tea!



In reality I was no closer to figuring out what I was going to do than I was before I left Pensacola. With plenty of time on my hands, I couldn't help but think about all the days that led to my present situation dilemma delicate condition. I think getting a birthday card from Bruce (remember him?) effected me more than I cared to admit. It made me think once again of Stacy and the huge mistake I had made. I never did tell my friends I was hurting. None of them knew of my adventures at Kinsman Hall. They knew nothing about the pain I carried with me. I missed my friends I had left behind and although I know the door had been slammed in my face months before from never returning there even though I had tried, I knew a part of me would always remain in Jackman. I just did what I always do...put on a convincing act as if and everyone saw me as a free spirit with not a care in the world (another thing to add to my list of things I do well.)

Everyone always assumes Florida has no winter. Up here on the Redneck Riviera, winter does exist! It may not get into sub-zero temperatures like those in Maine, but it gets in the 20's several times throughout the winter months (not exactly considered ideal camping weather) On one of those chilly nights in January, Theresa and I went by to visit her family and ended up spending the night at her mother's house. Her brothers had built a nice, toasty fire in the backyard and had pitched a tent. We thought camping out sounded like a splendid idea until about 3am when I hadn't slept a wink and was colder than a witch's tit (an old Maine saying.)  No matter what position I got in, I couldn't get comfortable laying on the ground in a sleeping bag. The crackle of the inviting fire had long died out and was replaced with the sound of Theresa grinding her teeth in her sleep. And yes, Theresa could sleep through anything!

I woke her up and told her I was going inside the house because I was freezing. I was either going to kick one of her brothers out of their bed or I was going to crawl in with one of them. Upon waking, Theresa discovered she was cold also and thought going inside was a great idea so in we went and out came her brothers bitching at how rude we both were. Being pregnant definitely had its advantages.

The next day Theresa and I made our way back to Chipley. Our first stop before going "home" was to make a bologna run at the local Piggly Wiggly. Murphy Laws states that whenever you don't want to run into someone, that person will always show up unexpectedly so one should always be prepared for such inauspicious occasions. When we came out of the store, there was Rickey Brooks and Kent French waiting for us. Naturally, after the customary greetings, Theresa thought it would be a friendly gesture inviting them back to our place. This would have been a great time to have Theresa wear a shock collar set on "kill the bitch," but I smiled and agreed to the visit.

By this time, there was no hiding that I was pregnant. I could see the wheels grinding away as Rickey did some quick math in his head. It seems like I went from being able to wear my normal clothes to nothing fitting overnight. Being pregnant definitely has a way of spreading the news without ever having to say a word. The visit was somewhat awkward. Rickey eyes never left me and I kept trying to avoid looking at him as much as possible. He looked like he was waiting for me to say something acknowledging being pregnant, but I never said a word. Add that to my list of things I'm great at doing! A simple discreet "the baby isn't not yours" would have adequately sufficed, but no such  words ever left my lips.

Rickey looked good...he always looked good. But more important, there were no visible signs of the horrific accident he had been in a few months earlier. After awhile Rickey fell into his normal playful banter with everyone and he even tried convincing me he was crazy because his car rolled on his head. To that, I kindly reminded him that the car rolling on his head had nothing to do with him being crazy. That ship had sailed a long time before his accident! When it came time to say our farewells, I did manage to tell him I was glad he was okay and that I was moving back to Pensacola even though I hadn't actually decided to do so. I just knew I couldn't tolerate anymore visits from him. I had some real regrets where he was concerned, but dealing with them now had been placed on the back burner. Maybe someday I'd address those regrets, but today wasn't that day.