My husband might not make it into another day awake. I have never seen anyone operate on as little sleep as he has in the past two days. Wednesday, he came home at six thirty to sleep for a couple hours, until ten only to go to lunch with a business guy. Came home and slept from four thirty until six thirty. Then he went to work to come home and go to this thing in ATL until four the next day. He slept for an hour in between work and leaving for ATL. Then he slept from four until seven to leave for work tonight. CAN YOU SAY NUTS?!! I can't imagine operating on sleep like that. I know that he really wants this opportunity that he is losing sleep over but OMG!! CAN YOU IMAGINE?!!

My husband is officially nuts.

I have found out the hard way what skipping a workout does for me. By nature, I am an angry person. My parents thought something was seriously wrong with me when I was growing up. They consulted a preacher's wife because I was so angry all the time. She said the only thing you can do with a child like that is pray for them. I don't remember being as angry when I was a part of an excercise regimen. When I was playing a sport, I don't remember being as angry. These days my anger is tempered by things that I didn't even know how to do back then: prayer and meditation, behavior corrections, self awareness, identification of fears. I have found a new tool: working out. Although, I don't work out like some people, I do what feels good to me. So far, I am up to about a thirty-five minute workout. I have been doing it about everyday to everyother day. The other day my head told me that I should reward myself and take an extra day. This would mean that there were two days without working out instead of one. No big deal right? No big deal: wrong. All day long anything anyone said to me was wrong. They were wrong! My mother knows exactly what I am talking about because she used to be the anyone (unfortunately she was also the Mom so that meant that I was being disobediant to boot.). The other tool I used was never miss an opportunity to keep my mouth shut. So I am not necessarily telling the stupid person that they are stupid, but I am thinking it! AND I am smiling which means they know I am thinking they are an idiot. Dumb, dumb, dumb they are. As I am riding home from Cornelia with a good friend she looks at me and says she is sorry that I am so out of sorts. She asks me when the last time I worked out was because this is the point in the conversation where we go over our workout stuff. Hmm...two days ago. Yeah, she says, you can't miss a day of working out. That is what is wrong with you. You need to work out. You know what I am thinking? She doesn't know what she is talking about. Stupid people. So the next day I workout, hop in the shower, hop out of the shower and am singing around the house when the hubby says, oh, you're in a good mood today. Damn it. The girlfriend was right. I can't miss more than a day of working out. I was crazy. My guess is that my parents have been praying for me since Mrs. G told them to, so all I have to say is thanks for the prayers. I am not so angry today. Now I am going to workout.

So this week it was harder to love myself as I was in great anticipation and mostly just fear. This seems grave to those who don't know that I am afraid of my own shadow. This week though it was an ingrained, soul written, had no idea was there fear. Big enough that I was able to function throughout my life happily except when it was brought up at which time I thought I would throw up. Turns out that I am afraid of money. Not money like hey I got paid but money like not having to work for the rest of my life. While this is only a reality five years from now, it is still a great possibility. So I come writing today of good news for John and I: John got a killer job. I am no longer in fear. Turns out that through my little emotional upheaval I have learned that God doesn't want me to be poor. I have also learned that poverty is not spiritual. AND I learned that neither is arrogance. So, if you throw them both away, you have a pretty good person who can be of service to God. Hopefully, I will be a service girl.

In other farm news, someone stole my dog. The black and tan puppy. I am a little upset, and keep calling all other dogs, Rocky (his name), but it is better than finding him squished on the side of the road. There is nothing fun about cleaning up dog parts. It is easier on the heart and the eyes to just know that God got him. It did give me ample opportunity to see the pasture as I walked the entire 65+ acres with Mikey. Turns out that we live on a BEAUTIFUL piece. There are two creeks and a river that border the property. All of them look like something Cooper would totally get a kick out of climbing, swimming, fishing, camping, exploring through out. I was amazed by the landscapes they created. Found a good site for a bonfire which I totally expect to have in the next couple of weeks (after blackberry winter and once John gets back on a day schedule again--hurray for the day schedule).

On Saturday I was back to doing things that make me feel better again. I cleaned out the back bedroom. It actually looks like a place where someone could lay their head if they came to stay. There is a place to put our clothes and everything! There was LOTS of things thown away and LOTS of things to be given away. There was lots to just be put away. John thought it would be great fun to leave the trash outside to test the puppy. One for Mikey, zero for John. Trash all over the yard. ALL OVER THE YARD. Mikey had eaten something aweful, he was so stinky. However, he thought it was great fun and just couldn't get over the wonderful toy John had left for him. John didn't make that mistake again. He took the trash to the dump the next day, but left it in the mud room over night.

Our farm house is slowly turning into our home. Each day it gets a little more like John and I instead of like John and Albert. Thank goodness. Have I ever mentioned how bachelor's don't clean? Yeah, gross. But it is clean today. And I feel better about myself.

In the spirit of doing things that make me like myself, I have begun an attempt at physical sobriety. What does this mean? I don't know. It means that I have been praying for some time now to have the obsession and compulsion to eat more than I need to be removed and to give me the desire to be healthy today. It means that after six months of praying the prayer, I have become willing to not just work out but consistently work out. I also have not had a desire to eat after ten pm. While this sound surprising to some of you out there, my sleep schedule is all screwed up since I started waiting tables and getting home at eleven o'clock or midnight is standard with a period of wide-eyed-ness until around two am or on really bad nights, three. Much to my shagrin, I would eat at these times of the night. Nothing I ate was percievably healthy by anyone's standards other than the Pilsbury Dough Boy. Now if I eat, it is a bowl of cereal or popcorn. I don't know what has changed, I just know it has. I continue to pray my prayer and I continue to feel better.

Also, in the spirit of sharing good spirits, I baked my husband a pecan pie. Don't you wish you were at the farm right now?

There are some things that are unexplainable. For example, my not blogging for forever...

Another is the first Dave Matthews Album. There was a guy I met my freshman year. He was, of course, a GT man and was either not very bright or not very right, which ever, he flunked out. Before he did, he initiated me into the world of fraternities my first semester. His name was Dave and was from Hoboken, New Jersey. I don't know where Hoboken is, but I love the name. He was a big brother figure. Someone who called me his little sister. For example, he always had a pull out couch for me to sleep on if I was unable to get home and didn't want to fall prey to some smuck who was looking to get lucky. Another example was him kicking me out of his room when he was smoking pot. Ah, yes, looking out for his little sister. He always provided me a ticket to the GT football game even if I didn't have a date because he never had a date. He was a guinuinely (wow, how do you spell that word Carter?) nice guy, for being a pot head.

He also introduced me to good music, good people and good habits. He wouldn't let me drink and study at the same time: good habit. He introduced me to who I would consider my big sister at Agnes Scott: good people. He listened to Dave Matthews all the time: good music. I can remember most importantly, he made me feel a part of something. I guess I was a part of a friendship. At the time I was not very good at relationships. Actually, I have never been very good at relationships. I was particularly bad at them in college because if they didn't circle around drinking, there was no point to me. But he was a friend. He was my friend.

I think I only have one picture of him at a toga party at Delta Tau Delta. He was hanging out with Lori. She hated me, but whatever. That feeling of being a part of has always stuck with me. It seems like my relationship with Dave ended much as so many did: somehow aweful and awkward. But that small period when life was good, I remember. When I listen to Dave Matthews, especially the first album, I find that confidence and comfort of being in a friendship. Somehow the relationship is a part of me. It is a part of me that I am not ashamed. I was someone who I liked in that relationship. When I listen to it, it reminds me that sometimes, sometimes, just sometimes, I like myself.

Strangely, it also makes me want to do more things, have more relationships where I like myself. I haven't liked myself much lately. Mostly, I have wanted to hide under the covers and just wait for it to be over. I don't know what "it" is and Dr. Pinka would berate me for not haveing an antecedant to that "it", but IT has scared me for a while and I am not sure, but IT scares me into a place where I am not happy and don't really like myself. For the first time in the past couple of days, IT has been on the back burner and God has given me some willingness to get out from under the covers to see if I can battle IT. So I am taking action to like myself again: Clean the farm house, clean the farm house, clean the farm house. I want to make the farm look like a home instead of this mishap of two people colliding and calling it home. In the name of Divine Order, First Things First, had to have good music. So I hooked up my stereo system (can you believe I have been here six months and not hooked up my stereo? Can you say Rae is loony toons?) and to my disbelief, what was in the cd player? Dave Matthews. I knew I was on the right path. It made me like myself again. Thanks Dave.