I love candy. I can't kick my sweet tooth cravings and I have no desire to try. So lately I have been finding small pieces of bubble gum on the kitchen counter among Buck's things. And it's not like a handful of pieces...it's just one solitary piece of bubble gum each day with Buck's stuff. At first I just didn't touch it, and then one piece would become two pieces, then three pieces. At the end of the week, there were 4 or 5 pieces of gum. So a couple weeks ago I was going to ask him about all the gum and then I noticed that they were all gone! So I forgot all about it until it started happening again last week. Again, I was doing dishes before going to work and I saw that one piece of gum sitting there. It looked very good and lonely and went to grab it but felt guilty and had to stop myself. Why was he saving that gum? I never saw him even eat it. I was thinking about it for a long time and finally figured it out. It's some cruel test he's putting me through to see if I would selfishly take his piece of gum, not thinking of him or the trials he had to go through to get that piece of gum. Frankly, I find it offensive that he thinks I would thoughtlessly steal his gum. So I've been making it a point everyday to eat that gum. I've been even leaving the wrapper at the very top of the trash, and the other day I left it on the floor right beside the trash can so it looks like I just accidently missed while throwing the evidence away. All to let him know that I know what he's doing and I don't think it's very nice. He hasn't said anything or even seemed to have noticed, but still he'll leave that piece of bubble gum on the counter almost everyday. And I eat it. Everyday.

I see alot of the same people everyday at the gym but I don't care to talk to them. Most of them I even avoid because they constantly gab with the other regulars. But there is this one guy who I make a point to wave to every day. He's a big black guy who drives a big black truck and I know he's in the gym when I am, but I NEVER see him working out. Except once, he was doing some ab exercises on a tiny machine that I thought would snap like a tooth pick underneath him. He looks very strong but very softspoken as the same time. I think he sticks to the aerobic machines and thats why I never see him. Anyways, I wave to him every day, usually as he either enters or leaves the gym, and only once has he ever talked to me. He stays out of my way, he doesn't hunt me down to waste my time with small talk. I love that guy. He rocks. I wish the other people would learn from that guy. 

I miss the days when I could go to the gym and know that it was MY time. I could go without worrying about putting on any makeup or brushing my hair and I could walk out a sweaty mess and feel great. Now, I'm spending half my time at the gym thinking of ways to avoid talking to people and skirting eye contact. It all starts with a wave or a nod, then that develops into a "hey, how you doin?", which quickly evolves into a conversation, if they don't jump straight from the nod to conversation. I'm not a bitch or anything, I just don't like to hassle with being friendly while I'm trying to torture myself. Even Gorilla, my arch enemy, has been trying to get me to talk. She'll act like she's out of breath, panting under a fan, and I'll laugh, knowing it's only all that plastic weighing her down. But I won't say anything!!! Half the time I choose not to talk it's only because I can't think of anything nice to say. The one person I try to avoid the most is Loafers. I never see him do the least bit of exercise except for pacing around the gym talking to everybody.This morning I made the mistake of looking at him and he immediately twisted around to face me so I pretended I was trying to look at the clock behind him. There's a fairly new threat now, though. I can't give him a nickname because he already introduced himself. I'm going to call him Dick. He looks like a gorgeous black statue: his muscles are enormous, every shirt fits tight over his broad, chiseled chest and washboard abs. He knows he's handsome and I hate it. He's actually really nice, but I caught him giving a couple people advice on technique which is a huge No-No in my book. So, earlier this week I was working on my abs, doing crunches with an additional 10 lbs resistance. I had already been at the gym a little over an hour, and he walks over when I was finished and says, "You're a hard working Sister, that's great!" He doesn't know it, but he started something awful just by saying that to me. Not even 10 minutes later, another guy who I NEVER spoke a single word to before, asked me if I was waiting to use the machine he was on. I was no where near his machine! I was a whole continent away from his machine. I was using the free weights, I don't need his stupid machine! Then, the next morning, Hogan walks over, all huge and ripped and in everybody's way, and asks why I was here so early in the morning torturing myself. It's usually rare to have one person say 'Hi' to me, then I have all these regulars wanting to chat? Get away from me! Let me do my thang in piece! I don't wear these earbuds to listen to music, they are to make you think I can't hear you! This morning when I walked in Dick was standing beside the lockers and he said "Well, good mornin' Ms. Cara, how are you today?" I always keep moving and keep my responses short, never asking questions or if I have to, never asking open ended questions. I'm so nervous now when I'm walking across the floor to the next station that somebody will intercept me and waste my 30 secs of cool down with chatter: I keep my head down, my eyes on the next station, and NEVER make eye contact with anybody. I still don't wear make up or fix my hair at all. I'm not trying to look pretty like the mom's club over there on the treadmills, chattering away. My workouts have evolved a lot, though. They are twice as long, sometimes 2 hours, and I've started jogging again after learning how to strengthen my shins. If a person enters the gym after me and leaves before me, I've kicked their ass. Alright, that's enough from me.I had to vent.

I woke up Monday and decided to spend a couple of hours at the gym since I had the day off and could finally take my time on the machines. I spent about 2.5 hours at the gym and felt great... until I got back home and started the first load of laundry. I bent down to pick up some clothes and an incredible stabbing pain shot down my back and down my legs. I spent the next three hours laying in pain on the couch. I knew Buck would be home soon after 12 as he had his own back problems and was going to the chiropracter then taking the rest of the day off. When he came home I was feeling alittle better except my lower back was throbbing and I couldn't bend forward even a little bit. Some ibuprofen helped while we went out to visit his friend in the hospital but I was begging him to get me back home after we left the hospital. I spent the rest of my day off lying in bed, taking ibuprofen, and using ice packs on my back. It sucked. That night when I went to take a shower, Buck said my lower back was extremely swollen and discolored. I STILL don't know what I did! I think it was that first load of laundry because I didn't do anything real strange at the gym. For the rest of the week I took it real easy at the gym, Tuesday I didn't go at all and took it easy while at work. On Thursday, I was itching to get out before going to work that afternoon, so I decided to go walking in Bear Creek. Buck and I have been cycling through the trails of Bear Creek and the Addicks Reservoir on the days that I have the evening off. The trail extends from hwy 6 to Groetchkyblahblah Park on Fry Road ( I don't know how to spell it or pronounce it but it is a large park). I wanted to walk the entire trail and back (6.5 miles) if my back wasn't hurting real bad. At this point the swelling had gone down a bit and it was no longer discolored and only hurt like hell if I tried to bend over. I walked only 1 mile and then something in the brush and tall grass beside the trail startled me. When I turned to look, I didn't see anything at first, then this big cat's head popped out of the tall grass, just starring at me. It was so close: I could have spit and hit it's nose. I think I stopped walking for just a split second and then turned and started again, this time just a tad bit faster. I was trying to tell myself it was just a large house cat that got loose, but there was no mistaking those ears and that build. It was was too large for a house cat and it had a very wild looking coat. I knew immediately that it was a bob cat. As I was walking away I kept looking back to see if it was following me. I stopped a cyclist and told her that I had seen a wild cat beside the trail...and this bitch told me there was another one just up the trail and THEN said "It'll probably be crossing the road by the time you get there," and just got back up on her bike and road away, all safe and shit. I paced back and forth for like...5 minutes. If I walked back to my car, I'd lose my work out that day AND get mauled. If I continued,I'd get mauled but would be able to get a little bit more sun and work my calves a bit more. I decided to keep going. I never did see the other cat, but every squirrel leaping through the trees was a bobcat staging an ambush. I had noticed, though, that I couldn't feel my back aching, so I guess all the endorphins helped with that. 2 and a half hours later I made it back to my car all sweaty and hot and feeling sooo much better. When I got home from work that night, Buck had put this as the background to my computer

AD_Bobcat_Dyess_WebJAE_5578

And that's exactly what it looked like, except so less cute. Of course, now Buck wants to go to the trails tonight.

I finally found a job! It wasn't my first choice but the pay is decent and the hours are what I was striving for. As of right now I am the Assistant Manager for Naturalizer, a small store in an outlet center just north of where I live.At Naturalizer I was guaranteed 30 hours a week but as of this coming Monday, I will be joining Factory Brand Shoes as their Assistant Manager. Apart of the same company, FBS can guarantee me my goal of 40 hours and the chance to supervise a total of 8 employees. FBS is a bigger store with both male and female shoes and a much better diversity of styles than Naturalizer. It is still in the same outlet center, even on the same side. My hours will be the same, no earlier than 9 and no later than 9:30. I won't be working from 9 to 9, though, that would kill me. My feet can only withstand 8 hours a day. And speaking of feet!!!! I just came back from a wonderful trip to the Goodwill with a pair of flat Naturalizer shoes, a pair of cute, flat sketcher looking things with a pretty design, a Tommy Hilfiger jean skirt, a yellow casual-day-out skirt, a shirt and short pajama set that feels incredible, a sexy yet comfortable satin slip, and 4 adorable tops to wear with said skirt or jeans for only $60. Yeah...that is totally awesome.

I think I might have a problem. I've been crying a lot. Like ALL THE TIME. I swear, the only times I don't cry is when I'm at work, eating and sleeping. And even then, just this past week, I've crossed those lines. I've been crying while I'm at work driving around, even when I'm sitting next to Buck on the couch (I don't let him notice), I've woken up at night crying, I'm crying right now, I have even been crying everyday at the GYM for the past two weeks. I'd be cycling my butt off on the stationary bike and all of a sudden get the urge to cry. I've lost 8 pounds as well, though my kick ass routine at the gym is probably the cause of that. Crying in the middle of the night, though, is a new one. I havn't done that since my emo, train-wreck teen years. I am not feeling real fatigued or tired, just weepy. I wouldn't even say I'm sad! I feel great physically and I feel beautiful and in control of what money I do have. But I have an idea of why I'm crying.

I've been reading a lot of literature concerning grief and mourning so I know all too well that we can mourn a symbolic loss just as easily as we can a physical loss. An example of a symbolic loss would be anything from losing the sense of friendship to losing your sense of femininity after a masectomy. What makes it harder is that the grief experienced is not understood socially because it's a personal symbolic loss and many people usually misinterpret the grief as someone just not handling it very well. It hit me this morning when driving home from the gym: yet again, I was crying uncontrollably and trying to sift through the reasons why in my head.

My theory: The crying really got worse after my 6 month anniversary with Buck. We didn't celebrate it or anything and to be honest I don't think he knows it's been six months, but with every monthly anniversary we have, I notice I get more weepy. This month has been by far the worst. I think the closer and longer I am with Buck, and the more comfortable I feel with him, the more I start to wonder why I had ever lasted so long with Poodle. It actually makes me mad that I've never been this happy with Poodle, yet I stayed. Even after so many years, I never felt this comfortable around him as I do with Buck. And I'm not saying I'm going to run off and marry the guy and I feel great that there has been no pressure to do so. I'm really enjoying my time with him and his family and it feels great to actually feel protected and cared for. Buck is so excited about crafting fire pits and selling them, he's been drawing up new patterns and ways to customize each fire pit, and it makes me think, Poodle was NEVER this excited about anything other than his video game. So I think I'm mourning a symbolic waste of time. About 7 months since breaking it off with Poodle, I still catch myself saying "kiss kiss" to Buck on the phone. I still pick up my phone after taking a shower at night thinking I'm going to call Buck, then realize I don't have to, he's waiting for me down stairs and not 1,500 miles away! I've actually caught myself several times wondering when I'm going to schedule my next flight, and what type of new clothes I need because it's cold in Delaware, just to realize I no longer have to schedule flights and dish out $400 every 3 to 6 months. Next year, some time in March, Buck wants to take me to Tennessee, to visit Nashville and go sight seeing, and ride trains. Did you know Poodle NEVER took me anywhere just for the hell of it? I don't know when this crying shit is going to end, I hope soon so I can get back to feeling normal.

So I think I am finally getting comfortable with hunting vocabulary, both the field and firearm terminology. I've learned through watching the kids last time what NOT to do and how not to behave. I'm getting pretty used to a rifle's recoil, and I know the difference in the kick between a 30-06 and .270, and I definately prefer Buck's bolt action .243 over his dad's .243 automatic. I'm at that point now where I don't have to trail Buck up and down the aisles at Gander Mtn. as he looks over the big game rifles. Now, I may not know what everything on the tag means, or how powerful that one might be over that other one, but I can meander by myself and relish in the fact that I know just about as much as that stocky, biker dude's 8yr old son standing behind his dad poking the taxidermy skunk. However, I still very much prefer curling up on the couch to watch a sappy Lifetime movie, as I reminded Buck yesterday when he proceded to cuddle up behind me on the couch to a DVD compilation of Rock Crawler Tournaments and stunts. I did watch it with him, but later that night he began playing a DVD on his laptop (during my lifetime show!) of common coyote distress calls, in which he then started to imitate with his new hunting whistle thing. The thing was friggin loud, shrill and obnoxious. I gave him a hint on where he should shove it and I turned the volume up louder on the tv just as the crazy babysitter bitch bludgeoned her boss' perverted co-worker with a shovel. I loved the last hunting trip, although I believe this next one next weekend will be a lot more sedate since I won't be sharing the deer stand with two restless and chit-chattering brats.

The best thing just happened!! I've been laid off!! Beginning January I will no longer be on call for that other part time job with that company in the Galleria. I will no longer need to make the treck into town on my day off just to sit in a cramped skyrise office with the AC blowing snow flurries down my neck. I will no longer want to peel my eyes out of their sockets from peering at a computer screen covered in a flourescent glare. But...I will miss the additional $750 a month. It sort of made all that nonsense worth it. The funniest part of it is WHY they are laying me off (and it's the other part-timers too): Their number of clients have skyrocketed! They are doing great! They do business in both the US and in Canada! I never really liked what they did though...I sort of felt like a crotchety old hag could do my job better. I'm too young and active to sit and wait for the phone to ring on my weekend to work. I always had to make sure I brought my laptop with me no matter if I went to the mall or out to eat, it was ridiculous. And on busy weekends with the funeral home, I was so frightened that the blackberry the company provided for me would ring. Atleast when I'm on call with the funeral home, all I have to bring with me is a pen and paper. I'm hoping to receive a raise with the funeral home, or even go full time by the beginning of next year. Money is going to be real tight, but I think I can make it work if I reduce miscellaneous purchases.

I'm 21 years old and have already been LAID OFF!! Now THAT's an accomplishment.

Some pictures from the Deer Lease this past weekend. I had a great time! I like it more than I thought I would, and I was friggin' awesome! We weren't seeing a lot of deer but we had promised Tobi we would bring he back some meat for processing, so Saturday night I shot a pretty good size doe. I shot it right above the shoulder to explode the heart, killing it instantly. It dropped immediately. We took it back to camp to clean, skin and gut it then packed the meat into a cooler. Everything will be used for meat except of course the guts. The next morning we went back to the same stand. I had taken some allergy medicine so my eyes were getting real heavy. SAP ALERT: Buck tucked an arm around me once I fell asleep and let me rest on his shoulder for about an hour while we waited for the sun to rise. As soon as it became light enough so that we could see the feeder we began to hear the deer walk out of the woods all around us, gathering beneath the feeder. Then out came a really nice looking, mature buck, atleast six points on the horns. Since I had shot the doe the day before, it was the nephews turn to shoot. Trace is about 8 or 9 years old. At the last second he backed down and wanted me to shoot the buck. I think he knew he would miss. He's a little gun shy because the last time he tried to shoot the scope hit him in the head, and he missed completely. Still, I was so happy he let me shoot it! My heart was racing while I was lining up the crosshairs on the shoulder of the buck, the last thing I wanted was to miss and lame the deer. It's only fair to kill it instantly. I pulled the trigger and the buck dropped right where it was under the feeder. The other deer scattered. About 30 minutes later we walked to the feeder to look at it, and to my surprise, it was a 9-pointer! YAY! I had hit it right in the shoulder and killed it instantly, like the doe. Again, we took it back to camp to skin and clean it. Buck and I are keeping the meat to get it processed into sausage and steaks. Buck is also going to skin and boil the head so I can have the complete skull and horns, which Buck is going to mount for me. YAY! Here are some pictures, but a warning: if you don't want to see dead deer, don't scroll down completely. Something else I forgot to mention, there was another smaller buck that walked out on Saturday night. I didn't shoot it because it looked real young.

Buck is very talented when it comes to behaving like a primative neanderthal. He could easily take care of himself if he had to live in the wild, as long as he was supplied with ammunition and bug spray. He took me on a hog hunt this past weekend at his uncle's lake property. After fishing all day and catching nothing but four sun perch (and I'm certain it was just one foolish fish) we returned to the truck where he took his .243 rifle out which had been buried beneath the .410 and .22 he had also packed just to be safe. We walked a bit until we came to the first feeder and sat about 70 feet away from it. His uncle told him that it would be fine if he shot a couple hogs as they were rooting around his property and making a mess. I think we sat there for an hour and a half and not one hog showed up, even after the feeder went off and littered the ground with deer corn. Even though we had completely covered ourselves with Deep Woods Off, the mosquitos were still swarming us, not biting, but just being pests. Then Buck did something that caused chills to run down my spine: he cupped his hands around his mouth and squealed like a pig wrestling with another one. It was haunting and surprisingly really loud. I'm a bit ashamed to say it but it was a huge turn on for me. I don't know why but it was just too hot. We got fed up soon after and went to Whataburger, bringing the food back so we could sit on the dock in the middle of the lake and eat it while watching the sunset. Surprisingly, it was his idea.

For the first time in about two months I actually get a real day off. Tomorrow I get to sleep in late (7am) and take my time eating my cereal and sipping my coffee. I'll actually have time to watch the news long enough to get a decent weather report, then it's off to the gym! I miss my days off and being able to spend hours at the gym if I want to. Tomorrow I think I might stay at the gym for two whole hours instead of the mere 45 minutes every morning. Usually, on Thursdays, I help out at the K's by washing their three outside dogs and cleaning the three bird cages. The cages are gross and ant infested and the birds are terribly unhealthy and mean. They are alot better off than they were before, however. It takes about 2 hours to do all that, but if you include the time that it takes me to shower the grossness off me and nurse my allergies and bug bites, it's a job that takes more than half the day. And I can't relax and take my time at the gym in the mornings because I feel pressured to be at the their house before it gets too damn hot. I have every Thursday off from the Funeral Home, but lately I've had to go to the Everest office downtown to get "acclamated to the environment", like I was some sort of fish. On the contract for Everest, however, I'm only being paid for four hours in the office each week, and I already take care of that on Tuesdays. They pay me a VERY fair retainer twice a month to being on call and such, so I can't gripe too much...but the office is so cold and boring! It's so not like the funeral home.

What am I going to do tomorrow? Probably take my time at the gym, take a shower and shave BOTH legs (I usually only have time to shave one each day), then I'm meeting Buck for lunch, maybe I'll take Maya to the park and read a book, then clean the apartment. The apartment isn't too terribly dirty, since I spend most of my time in Buck's apartment. That is where I cook and sleep and such. Hell, I'll probably even go swimming.

Oh and by the way, I did have a four day weekend the weekend before last, when Buck and I went hunting and fishing with his friends. But we were traveling and away from home all that time,so I don't count it as an average day off.