#fiercelyhappy


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Most of this is from Tumblr or Pintrest

NASA Smaug

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We officially have the keys to our first house. It’s rented, but it’s magic. I have wanted a house for the kids for over a decade now. And this house… It’s a 4 bedroom ranch with two bathrooms. Finally enough room that we aren’t tripping over each other just to move around. (We’ve been in a 5 bedroom for the past 6 years. The 5 of us.) The backyard could be classified a park it’s so big and it’s on a non-active air force base. We’re in the old base housing. We actually got an officer’s house. And we’re a 5 minute walk from the airport itself, right down from where they park the Apaches. My boys think they’ve died and gone to heaven. Even the most hesitant of them, Lucas who has only ever know this house and is timid and sensitive, is in heaven. Sambam is just in aw. It’s like she’s been left alone in a candy/toy store. Her favorite part is her closet, she insists she’s going to sleep there. I share the sentiment, it’s been a long time since my clothes haven’t hung from a pipe in the basement. I asked Thomas what the best part about leaving this house was and he waved his arms around to indicate all of it. It’s taken us over 11 years, but Pat and I have finally been able to give our kids what we’ve always wanted for them. I don’t even care it’s rented; that means if shit breaks, someone else has to fix it. The neighborhood is safe, the schools are great, I want to die of old age in this house! We can rent to own so that might damn well happen!

Here is this problem: This very first month, with the costs of moving, and some new financial sources not yet kicking in, we are in the biggest financial pickle we have ever been in. I am asking, hoping, wishing that those who might be able, to kick a buck or two or whatever you can our way. We are desperate. This money wouldn’t be covering shit and giggles, but the essentials of life. If you can help, please visit the donation button to the left which will go straight to my paypal. It’s always been there as a thank you for running this site, and as a little extra something which people have very kindly occasionally offered. But now, I really need it there. If you can’t give, please know we understand and love you all the same. We accept happy thoughts, crossed fingers, and blessing of good luck on this next stage in our family adventure, just as gratefully. There is also the option of sharing this cry for help with those you know? Only if you are comfortable with it. But sometimes, just sometimes, magic happens. And we really could use just a little more. (I’m not lying, this house is pretty magical.)

Photos you ask?

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The front of the house, which needs some work but we’re happy to. Thrilled to!

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The back yard! I assure you: Sambam and I have already twirled barefoot in that grass. Skirts swirling, heads dizzy, hearts, glowing, mouths laughing.

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Ah there she is, exploring our first ever covered parking. We’ll finally be able to keep the kid’s bikes at our place, chained to those pillars. But the neighborhood is perfect for afternoon bike rides.

I truly love you all who come here. Please know that. And I thank you all for every visit. For every comment ever left. And for any outcome from this post.

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School is going.  I’m doing quite well, but the classes I’m taking are college writing and Math.  So they were going to go well. Should help pad my GPA for when the going gets tough.  I did realize, much to my delight, that now that I’m full-time I’m eligible for the Dean’s List.  I look forward to my placement this trimester.  You hear confidence because there is no reason I won’t.

I enjoy my Math class being in an actual classroom.  I think I might make a point of one in-class a trimester.  It gets me out of the house in a healthy setting and fashion.  I’m in a place where I’m looking to meet people for various reasons.  Don’t look at me like that, I don’t sleep with every hand I shake.  Not even a notable fraction.

Speaking of… I’ve been on a few first and follow-up dates.  I’ve been stood up a few times.  I had one guy who looked promising end up not being promising.  That sucked.  Though the fashion in which that spiraled out, his loss.  I just recently had another first date also promising with a second date on the horizon.  I still maintain I’m looking for a best friend first and foremost.  The rest is just what it is or isn’t.

Speaking of best friends there is someone a true best friend whom has been there for me as long as I’ve known him and he is so exactly perfect in what I need and what I’m looking for.  But it isn’t to be.  At least I still have that friendship and he is the standard I will hold every other guy on the planet to.  But sometimes… I really wish he could be.  I know I see him as a white knight but in over 2 years and countless tests I’ve never been presented with a hint of a reason not to.  Even Pat supports this friendship though the depths of it are mine and mine alone.  I assume Pat knows I have feeling there.  I don’t have to discuss it with him.  Pat knows my heart.  But even without official discussion, Pat, if he should read this, is nodding along in agreement.  He knows how deeply I care for this person.  And he knows this person is good for me.  And he supports this friendship like he supports me breathing oxygen.  I write this in fear that the other person could someday read this and question if I can be trusted.  I write this knowing trust would never be betrayed.  I write this knowing I wish he would read it and find support where I’m willing to bet he never suspected.  I can’t know for sure but it’s a safe assumption.  I know my husband and my husband knows me.  I am great with secrets but Pat is great with me.

So I dally on with first dates, last dates.  First kisses, last kisses.  Being stood up, and losing hours to unexpected conversation.  Comparing them all to the one who won’t be.

And I’m happy with Pat.  I know the past decade has been rocky, but this feels right.  Not because I get to fuck around, because I’m not, but because this brings me a spark to Pat.  If anything, in my quest to show Pat he is my number one man, I’m looking for new and exciting ways to show him my affections.  In his quest to remind me what I have in him, he’s being the man I always wanted but never realized I had.  He would be doing this anyway, I would be doing this anyway, but this element of the open marriage keeps that spark lit as we are on our toes to never forget the partner that really matters.

We’ve been to the art museum twice, once with the 10-year-old.  He took me to see The Princess Bride on the big screen.  The local theater showed it one showing only.  We giggled together in advance of the scenes we knew were coming.  We spoke along in parts, not the only one in a theater full of fans to do so.  We are going to an art gallery for Valentine’s day.  I have the most romantic thing I’ll ever pull off, planned for late valentines, early anniversary.  I’m excited to romance Pat and be romanced by Pat.

And yes, I’m excited to be in the dating world, even when it has me not wanting to leave my bed from time to time because I got dumped in the most childish way ever.  But I’m out there having fun.  And I don’t mean *nudge nudge wink wink* fun.  I mean the fun of getting out there and meeting people and just leaving the damn house, fun.

Feeling desired and attractive and young and vibrant helps too.  This helps my self-confidence more than it hurts it.  I can’t take getting stood up too personally.  But I’m actually starting to learn I might actually be kind of not ugly.

And that’s been 30 years in coming.

So if you want to know what I’ve been up to in the new year, I’d have to say the answer is reading, studies, and dates.  Good and bad.

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I have been missing it since last fall.  Never thought I would, but the feeling of power that comes from pushing through the burn as my feet hit the pavement, is strangely addictive.

Warm up.  Run.  Walk.  Run.  Walk.  And so on until cool down and collapse.

I have it nowhere near by the book.  I will continue day 1, week 1 until I do.  It might take years. Then I’ll move on to day 2, week 1.  I have my limits though.  Not fat girl limits, but chronic pain issues limits.  If I don’t listen to my limits I’ll do more harm than good.

But I’m working on it.  I’m officially that fat girl making her way down the sidewalk not giving a damn what you think because at least I’m trying.

What are you doing?

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I am in the Smokey Mountains of Tennessee in a secluded cabin with my husband of 10 years and not a single child I birthed in site.  You only with you were me!

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One weighs 6.6 pounds.
The other doesn’t even register on the scale.
One is the bringer of doom to spiders found in my bed.
The other could be carried around by the spiders in my bed.
Both are awesome.

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I wasn’t expecting the package.  When I opened my mail box and found the key to the community package box, I cursed our idiot mailman.  He’s forever getting things wrong.  So, I took out the key and opened the community box expecting to have to pay a neighbor a visit.  I looked at who it was addressed to.  Me.  What?  Then I saw the return address.  Dawnie.

Welcome to my inspiration box.

 

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