Another Private Blog Post about Centrifuges.

Nothing had turned out as I planned.
I had planned a life with my just out of high school sweetheart in 1999.  My happily ever after, the way I imagined it, would result in a train trip to the Pacific Northwest, never having to explain what I meant, loving and laughter...
Then he threw me across the room while I was 8 months pregnant with our daughter for not adding meat to the spaghetti sauce.  We did travel a tiny bit, but we mostly just fought when he'd ask me to explain why I had taken a particular turn on a particular road.  Then, (regardless of how much the turn made sense,) he would call me stupid.  When I told his friends, most figured I was lying about all of it.

Then, I left and was taken in by two of my girlfriends, then kicked out a month later when they wanted their couch back.
I found an apartment with a male friend of my ex-husband's.  A man I had gone on one date within a casual, friendly sort of way.  We were to have a roommate, but she decided she did not want to "betray my ex" in such away.
Then, my happily ever after emerged as dreams of getting my Associate's degree, then moving on to Northwestern in Chicago.
Then just settling down with our family and friends nearby, then eventually just our families.
Then those dreams slowly dissolved, and I had to admit to defeat again.

Then my dream became, living my own happily ever after all by myself, where ever the wind dropped me, sprouting wings, meeting strange people in clubs and having questionable relations with them in cars and bathrooms because I was afraid to pick up a dildo at a sex store.
That then became moving to North Carolina, where I knew no one but the weather was better, and I was within a 4-hour drive of my father's home.

Then when I was rejected for such social interaction, when going to a steampunk gig my brother was throwing, I met a sweet man named Steven.
Now, my dreams of happily ever after are a lot vaguer, just "make it to next week, make it till our children are grown up." We dreamed of moving to Paris until he found out I dislike France.  (I've never been there, I just remember my Dad going there while I was graduating from high school and being bitter about it.)
I occasionally get a dream in my head.  I occasionally think of some happily ever afterthought, but our lives are not this, they are survival.  We found each other that we may survive.
And that's the best we can really hope for.

This post was private but I wanted to use it for my decade rewind

Travel tips
We did a lot of travelling this year.
From May to August we spent every weekend travelling, we went to Evansville for the Step-Daughter's world series, we went to the UP and explored heavily, we hiked more than usual, we went to several beaches on the west side of the state and generally had a blast; until August.

My Dad came up to Michigan in Early August for my Uncle's Wedding celebration, (their wedding was in Florida in May, but they had a reception for family in August.) He looked ok, was slowing down but not terribly, still sharp, still played guitar for the whole family, about Saturday morning he said he gut hurt, and that he would go to the hospital when he got home because it was only a "bowel obstruction", but he really had far too much to accomplish while he was in town.

Fast forward to Thursday of that week, me calling to make sure he and his "girlfriend" got home, and "Well Dee, I'm at Piedmont Mountainside, and it looks like they're admitting me.  Appendicitis and it ruptured.  I'm going in for emergency surgery sometime tonight, but first they're sending me to Piedmont Atlanta.  I love ya kid, gotta go."

And I calmly, but quickly, gather my work accoutrements and get the F out of my office.

I decided going home and waiting for news was the best thing I could do, I made Steve stay home from work because he worked in Kalamazoo and if I was going to have to run down to Atlanta, I didn't want to have to do it by myself.

WELP.  The "girlfriend" called at 9:30 saying that everything was horrible and that she was sure my Dad was going to die.  I only said "I'm on my way" and called my former step mother Susy to find out her take on the situation.

She knew very little about what was going on, and Karen, the aforementioned "Girlfriend" wasn't keeping her updated.  See, there was a problem already brewing.

Suzy was to be managing my Dad's finances while he was in the hospital or unable to mange them, Karen was to manage his DNR on file with the hospital and reiterate his wishes.

Well, Karen told myself and Susy several times she didn't think she could do it the last time my Dad had a scare.
As next of kin, and my Dad being in a really bad way, I had to make tracks.  But, I didn't get paid til the next morning, and Steve was again scheduled to work.  Being as we didn't have confirmation it was the end yet, Steve had to go to work the next night.  So, 13 hour drive to Georgia starting at 11pm because I had to borrow a few bucks from my family to make it down.

I'll skip the rest of the details, but I was down there roughly 5ever.

We've basically stayed put ever since.  I would like to travel more, but holidays+work+pretending to give a shit...

Anyway... Back to "work."