A Requested Story - Part 1

How did I meet my husband?  I met him on the internet.

These days, that statement doesn’t usually get “the look” that it used to get. You know “the look”, that kind of judgmental look that says “OH REALLY”.  6 years ago, when we first met, I’d get “the look” more times than not.  I have even been known to give “the look” myself.  But personal ads and such have gotten so much more common place, I haven’t seen “the look” in a while.

I don’t exactly remember placing a personal ad online. Seemingly out of the blue one day, I get an email from someone saying he saw my ad, that I would probably think he was too young, but I could email him if I wanted to.  Hmmm.  I followed the link to the web site and read his ad.  Hmmm.  Then I went to the sites main login page, put in the username I always use, and the password I always use.  Imagine my surprise when it logged me in.  I pulled up my ad and read what it said.  Going by the age I had listed, I had posted it about 10 months earlier.  I had a vague recollection of being on the computer one night with a pack of wine coolers sitting next to me.  That must have been it.  I went to several other places and tried logging in to see what else I had done.  I found 2 others, which I promptly deleted.  It probably wasn’t really necessary, seeing as how I hadn’t gotten any response to them. 

I couldn’t decide if I should be relieved or insulted.

So I went back to the email from the guy.  I thought, nah, I’m happy.  I’m not interested.  Delete.

A few minutes later, I put it back in my inbox and went and read his add again.  Hmmm.  He liked to do a lot of the same things I liked.  Nah.  It would be too much trouble, I don’t want to meet someone new.  Chances are it wouldn’t work out and would be a waste of time.  Delete.

Then I put it back in the inbox again.  Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to at least email him.  Maybe we could go to a movie or dinner or something.  I haven’t been out with anyone in forever.  What could it hurt?  A lot, it could hurt a lot.  I was ok with where I was in my life and was ok with raising my kids alone and just being happy by myself.  Relationships are just too much trouble and usually not worth the effort, and I have a history of bad judgment.  Besides, once I had to send him a picture of me, he wouldn’t be interested anymore.  Delete.

Ok, fine.  FINE.  I put it back in the inbox again.  I’ll email him.  I will tell him about my kids and that I am 11 years older than him.  That should be enough to never hear from him again.  FINE.

So I took a deep breath and clicked reply instead of delete. 

To be continued…..

CHL

That is Concealed Handgun License for those of you not in the know.

My hubby has had one for several years.  He has tried to get me to get mine many times.  I always said no, maybe later.  My main excuse was that it is against Company Policy to carry at work.  It is not illegal - they don't have the legal signs posted at all doorways - but it is against their Policy.  And as much as I hate my job, I like having a job, so I tend to follow Company Policy.  More or less.  Plus hubby is almost always armed.  And usually with more than one gun.  So if it ever actually came down to a Mr and Mrs Smith, our backs against the wall, type situation, he could toss me one of his spares to use.  (That's a Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie movie reference by the way.)

I think my real problem with getting a CHL though, was I didn't think I really had it in me to point a loaded gun at someone.  That is one of the main Gun Safety Rules: never point a gun at something unless you are planning on shooting it.  Right behind: treat every gun as if it is loaded.  

I have never been in a crisis situation.  I didn't know how I would be.  Would I be one of those people who get all helpless and can't do anything but cry?  I always liked to think not, but you don't really know.  Until you know.

And now I know.

If I feel threatened or someone in my family is threatened I am perfectly capable of pointing a loaded gun at someone.  And while I would always hope to not have to actually pull the trigger, I would do it if I had to.

Does that make me a BAD ASS too?

Not his first time

The house that is caddy cornered from ours has small kids.  Girl kids.  So we thought it would be in the best interest of the neighborhood to let them know about last nights incident.  Especially since The Perv lives directly behind them.

It turns out that this wasn't The Perv's first window peeking escapade.  Caddy Corner Mom caught him one morning looking in her windows, and called the police on him.  And he apparently has been to a couple of other houses as well.

The Perv is married and has a son.  

When we left the house this evening, we saw The Perv leaving his house and going off on a bicycle. 

Grrrrr.

He's not JUST handy

My hubby is not only handy, but he is a total BAD ASS!

This happened last night:

We went to bed around 10 pm. I had taken an over the counter sleeping aid and a couple of Tylenol (shoulder pain-not sleeping well). So I was dead to the world.

At some point I was vaguely aware of hubby getting out of bed. In my groggy mind I thought he said something about turning off the water. (We have soaker hoses around the foundation. We left the ones at the front of the house running on low when we went to bed. The doors aren't closing right.)

The next sound that penetrates the fog, is the sound of hubby's voice. YELLING very loudly. I can't tell what he is saying, but he is actually YELLING, so some sense of urgency gets me on my feet and stumbling out of bed.

Since I had a vague recollection of something about the water, I headed to the front door. The door was still dead bolted, so he didn't go out that way. I can still hear him YELLING, but still can't make out what he is saying.

I go to the back door and sure enough, it is unlocked. I go out on the porch and say "Honey? Are you back here?" Now I can finally make out what he has been YELLING.

"GET THE GLOCK. BRING A FLASHLIGHT. CALL 911!"

Well that woke me up and got me moving. I run back into the bedroom and open the desk drawer and grab the gun. Then I open another drawer and start rummaging for a flash light. While my right hand is looking for the flashlight, I realize the gun in my left hand is not the Glock, so I put it down and open the other drawer and grab the Glock. I get the flashlight and grab a cell phone and head back outside.

It is dark in the backyard and I can't see anything. I can only tell that hubby's voice is coming from the far side of the yard. I call out "Honey?" again, while I am heading that way. He yells again to get the gun and get out here. I told him I had it, but where was he?

He says "I'm over here. Call 911. This guy was looking in the bathroom window at Surly Teenager while she was in the tub."

I take the gun out of its holster as I walk towards the sound of his voice and I dial 911. I get to the fence and there is hubby on the other side, in the neighbors yard, sitting on someone face down.

The police came. They took the guy away, took pictures and hubby wrote out a statement.

Hubby had chased the guy, jumped the fence, tackled the guy, wrestled him to the ground, and pinned him down. What'd I tell ya? He's a BAD ASS! !

They are going to charge the guy with criminal trespassing. The police said if we see him anywhere on our property again, even walking across the front yard, all we have to do is call 911 again and he will be arrested.

Which is really good, because Surly Teenager recognized him. He only lives a block or so over from us.

Ugh.

I ended up doing....

A little bit of everything. 

Which means I didn't get a whole lot of any one thing accomplished.

Oh, and the Pizza Rolls; the majority of them survived the weekend.

Uh-oh

I am alone in the house with a box of Pizza Rolls.

This isn't going to end well for one of us......

What to do, what to do?

I am going to get the house ALL TO MYSELF for several hours in a row this weekend.

But I can't decide what to do with this opportunity.

I could clean the house and sit back and watch it STAY  clean for hours at a time until Hubby or surly teenager comes home and doesn't pick up after themselves.

Or

I could take a nice long bubble bath without having someone come barging in to use the toilet.

Or

I could sit and read, or cross stitch, or do a jig saw puzzle without having someone holler from across the house so I have to get up and see what they can't possibly manage to take care of on their own.

I am giddy at the thought of it.