Saturday, February 24, 2007

Murder by Omission

Fallin love with him had been so easy. He was long and lean, with a crooked Elvis-grin and a Nashville drawl. He called her his Hey-Baby, with a lazy wink of his eye. Yeah, he drank, but probably all he needed was the right woman to really, truly love him. If his cup of self esteem was filled with love, she thought, who knew what worlds he might conquer?

And so she loved him, invited him into her home. And she'd been right, of course. He made repairs, put in a garden, fixed her car. He praised her drawings and her cooking. She craved his approval, and felt all wriggly inside. At night he made her feel beautiful and desirable.

When did everything change? Their wedding day? He hadn't come to bed that night--had sat up listening to the stereo, promising to be in 'soon.' Finding him on the couch the next morning, he looked so vulnerable it was easy to forgive him.

She didn't understand that he had simply dropped his camouflage. The predator had bagged his prey. There was no longer a need to pretend.

For months she refused to see what he was. He was her husband, and she was loyal. The first time he kicked her, when she shouted at him, hurt and angry, he laughed. "I was just playing with you baby. Don't take it so seriously."


It's been nearly two years, she thought. Nothing ever gets better.

"I ain't leaving!" he roared, when she told him she wanted a divorce. "You're just like all the rest; nothing but a bitch. You're my wife and I ain't leaving!"

For months his rages had been more frequent, less controlled. She felt like she was losing her mind. She needed help, but she couldn't tell anyone how bad it was.

He'd been sick for weeks. She was sure he had pneumonia, although he refused to see a doctor. She knew it was because he couldn't take the chance he'd have to leave his bottle. Driving home from work she felt exhausted and defeated. She hadn't slept in days, between caring for him all night, and dealing with her job all day. She even found herself wondering how she could kill him and not get caught. The thought terriefied her.

Everything looked normal when she pulled into the drive. Or looked like what had become normal. The bass rumble of the stereo greeted her as she walked up to the door.

The door was locked. He probably hadn't been off the couch all day.

Inside, the dog cowered behind the couch. "I don't like the noise, either," she murmured, rubbing his ears.

She steeled herself as she marched into the family room. Without looking at him she turned off the stereo.

He didn't say anything.

Surprised, she turned around.

He was in his usual spot on the couch, his cigarettes and tequila within arm's reach. A half-burnt cigarette had fallen out of the ashtray. He lay so still...she felt a flutter of hope mixed with fear and watched for the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes opened and he stared at her. She waited for the cursing, but when he opened his mouth he seemed to convulse into a fit of coughing. She stared, horrified, as blood belched from his mouth.

Somewhere in her mind she thought, esophogeal hemorrhage. Call 911.

Slowly she backed out of the room, eyes fixed on the blood.

At the door she whistled for the dog and put him in the car. "Come on boy. Let's go to the park."

Saturday Evening

I wish I knew how to go back and edit because it drives me crazy that one of my headlines says 'faborite' instead of 'favorite.'

So it's Saturday evening, and I am home. I visited a few blogs I enjoy. Hannelie had a video on hers, and I loved it. I'm not a very good dancer, but always loved dancing. In my mind, I'm still 20-something, but I only dance in the privacy of my home now. Well, I never go anywhere that there is dancing, either.

I've done some reading today, and some cross stitching. I'm working on Jack's Christmas stocking. Now I will have to begin a search for a new pattern for Jack's sister or brother. I'm determined that each of my grands will have a hand-stitched Christmas stocking to keep.

Gradually, I think I am feeling a little better. The exercise 2-3 times a week, and the healthier eating are paying off. It seems like hurting so much in so many parts of my body would be incentive to keep me on my eating program. Still, I catch myself on search missions in the kitchen, trying to find something I can eat. Something that isn't salad. I catch myself noshing on things that are at hand. It's much easier to leave food alone when I am at work. I'll keep practicing; maybe I can get it right.

Friday, February 23, 2007

Not much in the mood

to write, but it seems to be time for a new post.

I have a new dog. She is a fat old girl, a yellow lab named Abby, and she has been here a week. I think I love her. She is kind of slow, content to take it easy, and kind of like me. In fact, we're both short, fat blondes...

One of the things I like about Abby is that she snuggles with me at night. The house doesn't seem so empty now, and she is so happy when I come home from work. Even Maggie, the cat, seems ok with Abby. Abby seems to know there is a cat here, and she doesn't seem to care.

My friend, Kathy, sent over a gift basket for Abby. In it I found a variety of dog treats, two tennis balls, and a squeaky furry football. Abby loves the toys, but won't let go of them. She gets the tennis ball so far back in her mouth I'm afraid she will asphyxiate herself. She brings the toys to me, shoves at me, but won't let go. When I finally do get hold of one and pitch it down the hall, she is ecstatic and tears after it as fast as her bulky old body will let her. She's not that old--probably about 8 years (that would be 56 in human years, and I'm 58, so that's pretty young).

I'm really glad Abby came here to live.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

Pick a Favorite (You may choose more than one)

1) (On an infant's shirt): Already smarter than Bush.

2) 1/20/09: End of an Error

3) That's OK, I Wasn't Using My Civil Liberties Anyway

4) Let's Fix Democracy in This Country First

5) If You Want a Nation Ruled By Religion, Move to Iran

6) Bush. Like a Rock. Only Dumber.

7) You Can't Be Pro-War And Pro-Life At The Same Time

8) If You Can Read This, You're Not Our President

9) Of Course It Hurts: You're Getting Screwed by an Elephant

10) Hey, Bush Supporters: Embarrassed Yet?

11) George Bush: Creating the Terrorists Our Kids Will Have to Fight

12) Impeachment: It's Not Just for sex Anymore

14) America : One Nation, Under Surveillance

15) They Call Him "W" So He Can Spell It

16) Cheney/Satan '08

17) Jail to the Chief

18) No, Seriously, Why Did We Invade

19) Bush: God's Way of Proving Intelligent Design is Full Of Crap

20) Bad president! No Banana.

21) We Need a President Who's Fluent In At Least One Language

22) We're Making Enemies Faster Than We Can Kill Them

23) Is It Vietnam Yet?

24) Bush Doesn't Care About White People, Either

25) Where Are We Going? And Why Are We In This Handbasket?

26) You Elected Him. You Deserve Him.

27) When Bush Took Office, Gas Was $1.46

28) The Republican Party: Our Bridge to the 11th Century

29) 2004: Embarrassed 2005: Horrified 2006: Terrified

Saturday, February 3, 2007