On The Road Part I

You asked for it....

We went on the road. I packed my shit up and off we went. I cannot explain to you how much I was looking forward to spending an entire week with trucker boy. Seven nights sleeping with him, seven days waking up to him, his face being the last thing I see at night and the sound of his voice the first thing I hear in the morning. We travelled 7000 km in seven days, 11 states, 4 provinces, $4000 in diesel fuel, I lost count of the cups of coffee after the 534th one...Maine, New York, Conneticut, Virginia, Penssylvania, North and South Carolina, and a few others that are just a blur of highway. I had my laptop with me. On the third night with him I wrote this:

Don’t judge a man until you walk a mile in his shoes. It’s a phrase we often hear used to portray the importance of seeing the world through someone else’s eyes. For the last three days, that is exactly what I’ve been doing. I packed my bag on Sunday, throwing aside the four inch heels, the well pressed pants, and the silk shirts, for denims, sneakers, t-shirts and anything that could be even remotely considered comfortable. Packing was the first challenge. I am what my friends call a “girly girl”. I enjoy painting my nails, wearing skirts, looking feminine. So to try and pack a duffel bag that didn’t include any of those things was a significant task for yours truly.



It’s 9:16 local time, M is in the bunk trying to get some sleep before a long day of driving tomorrow. I tried laying down and my body said, “Ummm yeah, it’s barely dark, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rather than tossing and turning, keeping him awake, I decided it would probably be best just to get up. So here I sit. We’re parked at a rest stop on the interstate in Pennsylvania. I should be revelling in the fact that my ass is sitting here in Pennsylvania. I have travelled across 4 states today, I’ve seen the Hudson River, I have driven through the beauty of Conneticut and seen more of the country in one day than I have in 37 years.


Yet as I fired up the laptop, I kept my fingers crossed that I might be able to get an internet connection. Apparently there is a wi-fi connection available, I’m either out of range or the huge trucks parked on either side of me are blocking the signal. I feel disconnected. I should be lapping up this new experience but I feel completely disconnected from my life. It has only been one day since we entered the US and I shut my phone off, thereby terminating my connection with friends and family back home. I long to get on face book to see what everyone is doing, I long to text my girlfriends with updates.


Is this something that truckers get used to - this disconnection with normalcy and people? I suspect much like a physician needs to separate himself from a sick patient, a trucker would have to condition himself to deal with loneliness and being away from loved ones, all the while doing a job that gives you more than ample time to think about loneliness and loved ones. I cannot help but question what the fall out is to develop the ability to do such a thing, to compartmentalize the loneliness and missing. I see it in M, his ability to shut everything out but the job. It scares me. I asked him about this very thing. His reply, “It takes some getting used to, once you get used to it, you start to like it”. The man I love with all my heart likes being disconnected. It’s not an easy thing to accept.

And the next day....

So here I sit, in the passenger seat of a truck that’s hauling about 43, 000 pounds of peat moss, barrelling down Interstate 81 in Virginia at 100 km an hour . I have never seen truck traffic like this in all my life…keep in mind small town girl where a traffic jam is a tractor and 4 cars. We keep passing by fall out from the tornadoes that have been touching down through the states. I cannot fathom the fear, the sense of having your life literally torn apart.

And then we hit the Carolinas...

Summer has come to the south already. It’s 84 degrees (and snowing back home), everything is green, the sun is out and the scenery is absolutely breathtaking. It makes me long to get out and hike what are sure to be spectacular trails among the hills rising on both sides of the highways. M would have a stroke and gag me for the rest of the trip if I even suggested such a thing. A little over an hour before he needs to be at the customer gives us just enough time for a pit stop at the rest area outside Statesville. I grab the sleeping bag from the truck, and after getting cold drinks, I spread myself out on the green grass (still marvelling at the green everywhere) and M sits at the picnic table with his book. It’s nice to be away from the truck, if only for a brief time. And when he looks down and smiles at me from his perch on the picnic table...yeah this is the way life is supposed to be lived.
 I am not sure yet how I manage to “forget” the 35 degree heat, or the lush, green landscape that spreads as far as the eye can see, but I do. The air conditioning in the truck isn't working and sleeping at night makes me feel as though we're trying to redefine the meaning of hell. I forget that I am in the south sometimes. Until a sales lady, a waitress, a fellow trucker speaks to me in that drawling, warm southern twang and I do a double take each and every time. I love accents, period. The southern accent with its rich, lazy mode of delivery makes me grin foolishly each time I hear it. I strongly suspect I’ll leave a small piece of my heart in this beautiful state. Oh and white gravy with southern fried chicken and that thing these people do with a potato all mashed with 400 pounds of butter....oh dear sweet jesus how do I get a weekly supply of that sent to Canada?

Then we headed back to Canada, through Quebec into Ontario and back east. The trip home is when things started going awry. No, that's not true, things started going awry when I was sitting beside the man I loved and felt lonelier than I have ever felt in my entire life. That happened on day 3.  It just got worse from there....

Can You Ever Go Home?

I go away for a day or two (ok four fucking months) and now we have mobile templates? Is this something I need? Oh my god I feel like the new kid in the class all over again.

I don't even know where to start. Or if I should start or just call it a day and hang up the sparkly red shoes, thank you all for your love, verbal kicks in the pants, the laughs you have given me and call it a day?

This blog, and me, myself, has changed so much from what it originally started as. I am alot more receptive to changing me than I am the blog itself. It is impossible to change one without changing the other, hence my lack of writing. My life is no longer about bitching (oh there's no fear I still do that a gazillion and four times a day) about everyone around me. It's become more. I don't know if that will translate or fit into this space here.

But there's so much I want to tell you, to share. And it feels safe to do it here. I am so clicking my ruby reds and saying, "There's no place like home".  Do you want to hear about the total uber fuckedupedness that is my life right now? If nothing else it will make you feel better about your own. Can I come home now?

Can We Just Skip The Teen Phase

Oh sweet jesus can we not just skip this part of the book?

As many of you know I have three teenagers. The oldest decided back in the fall that he didn't like his mother's rules and moved in with his father. He turns 19 next week, he graduates from high school in June, he has a girlfriend apparently and I have been excluded from all of it. People keep telling me he will wake up someday and realize his mother isn't the witch he has made her out to be. I am not so sure that day will come. In the meantime I'm missing some monumental life moments.

The youngest (Ms. Noreene) who turns 13 in June has her very first boyfriend. I cherish the fact that she feels comfortable enough to tell me about this. I learned of it the day SHE ASKED HIM OUT! Dear sweet jesus she's her mother's daughter. He calls every evening, he shows up at concerts and basketball games. I can't understand how he's still walking upright really as I've killed the poor little fucker in my mind about 236 times. He's a nice enough boy, polite and speaks in full sentences. She is so in love with him, in that 12 almost 13 year old way. I dread the day he breaks her heart and I have to try and convince her that life goes on. In the meantime I smile and nod when she spends 20 minutes telling me about what Connor said and did. I revel in her happiness while hating the fact that my little girl is growing up.

My middle child, who in typical middle child fashion, has never given me a day of worry in his life, got home last night at 1:10 am. Blink, Blink. Blink. What the hell? Does he have any idea how difficult it is to call off the hounds and the air search party? This morning he explained in a calm rational way that he had lost track of time. Went to a movie with his buddies, out for chinese food afterward and didn't bother to look at a clock. He stood in front of me explaining this as though we were talking about the weather. He apologized for worrying me and said that I don't need to worry. When my head stopped spinning on my shoulders and my body stopped twitching from anger, I explained to him that worrying is what mother's do. It is our job. We have union cards. His response, "Well mum I'm really sorry, but your obsessive compulsive disorder is your problem not mine". Do I laugh or slap him?

So yeah, I'd like a please pass go and collect $200 dollars for this phase of child rearing, please?

All anxiety and tongue in cheek aside, I realize fully that I could be dealing with so much worse. I have never had to pick my kid up drunk in a public place (sorry Mom), I don't worry about any of them drinking and driving or doing drugs (sorry Mom). I've never had to go into a hospital to sign waivers so they could have surgery because they broke an ankle falling down a set of stairs...drunk (sorry Mom).  It could be alot worse. Hell, I have done so much worse.

On the boy front - I'm going on the road next week with him. Yours truly is hanging up the heels, putting on the sneakers and living in a truck for a week with a boy - who may or may not throw me in the Mississippi at the first opportunity. You just know there will be stories. What else will I have to do but blog about everything he says and does? There may even be pictures.

Being Happy With What You Have

It's something that everyone struggles with in life. Being happy with what you have in your life rather than focusing on the things you don't have. It's usually material things, wanting to jet off on holidays but not having the financial means to do so. Salivating over those beautiful pair of Franco's that just came out last week at the shoe store (fuck me but they're beautiful) and knowing that if you buy them it'll be kraft dinner all around for the next month! The bigger house, the nicer car, the better job.

I find myself in the tenuous position of trying to be happy not with the amount of material things but rather the amount of love. For anyone that knows anything about the trucking lifestyle (and make no doubt that's exactly what it is), you know that time is money. If their wheels aren't turning, they're not making money. Trucker boy's schedule has him on the road for two weeks then a Friday, Saturday and if I'm lucky a Sunday home. During those two, sometimes three days, he has to spend time with his son, do any errands that need to get done and squeeze me in. To say it's a juggling act would be the fucking understatement of the year.

So I'm having to relearn my entire way of thinking. Anyone that has been reading this blog knows that I have a tendency to be a tad bit selfish, just a wee bit. Tiny little intsy wintsy bit. Oh hell "It's all about me" should be tattooed across my ass. Learning to share at the age of 37 is quite an eye opener let me tell you.

He was home last weekend. Arrived on Friday, I picked him up at 10:30 Friday night. We got back to my house and I made chicken wings at 11:00 at night. He read parts of my blog while I puttered around my kitchen. Yes, you read that right, I let him read my blog. No one in my real life even knows I have a blog, except for him now. We went to bed around 2am and back up again at 9am so he could get back in town to spend time with his son. I had to work on Saturday afternoon and he texted me around 3:00pm. "What are you doing for dinner?" I hadn't given much thought to it. I knew I'd have to throw something at the anklebiters and essentially replied as such to him. He replied back, "Why don't you let me make dinner." So I picked him up at 5:00, he hopped in my car with grocery bags in hand, came to my place and cooked a delicious mushroom chicken linguine for the kids and I.

I'm learning to cherish those small things. Watching him putter around my kitchen, being thankful that he's there and would think of cooking dinner for us, knowing that he has a million other things on his mind. I watch his hands move as he cuts up vegetables and I'm enthralled. He kisses me on the forehead as I stand against the kitchen counter and I smile as though someone has handed me a pair of Loubitins. The Dual Mom of a year ago wouldn't have been thankful for those things. I see these changes in myself and they scare me. Change is scary. I find this wellspring of patience where he is concerned and I marvel at where it comes from. The kids see the changes, Mom is a little less edgy, smiles alot more, is much more patient. I question whether I'm losing a part of myself or simply growing. The edgy, take no prisoners, don't fuck with me or I'll eat you for breakfast woman that I've known all my life wouldn't settle for stolen moments and being grateful to have her man cook her a meal. Hell no, the woman I've known all my life would demand to be picked up at the door, wined and dined at a nice restaurant, showered with compliments and endearments, put on a pedestal and make damn sure it's a pretty one. So where did this other woman come from? Was she always there hiding, waiting for the right love, or is she settling because of love?

I went on a short trip with him in the truck. Yep, your's truly whose idea of camping is renting a 30 foot camper complete with air conditioning and full bath spent 24 hours in a truck and loved every minute of it. What the hell? No bathroom facilities, no running water, curled in a bunk for a quick nap on the side of a highway. Peeing in public bathrooms at truck stops. Who is this woman? He sleeps in short 3-4 hour periods. We arrived at his first delivery stop at about 4am hopped into the bunk, set the alarm for 7 and drifted off to sleep. When the alarm went off he hopped into the driver seat, I mumbled something incoherent and drifted off back to sleep. He drove around, making his deliveries while I dozed in the bunk listening to the sounds of him working. About 9:30am I hear, "Do you know someone that might like coffee?" I pulled myself out of the warmth of the bed, hopped into the front seat of the truck, blindly groapped for the coffee sitting in the holder and looked at that beautiful face smiling back at me saying, "Good morning baby" and I can't remember ever being happier. What the hell?

We drove for another 12 hours, stopping for bathroom breaks, naps and food. Driving down the highway, watching the world go by, singing together at the top of our lungs (have I mentioned how badly I sing) and I was happy, deleriously so. What the hell?

Seat covers - that's what passengers are referred to in the trucking world. Apparently I make a good one. My passport application is completed and ready to go. I've decided to take a week off in the near future and go out with him. It requires a passport because he does runs to the US. How much fun will I have blogging from the open highway people!?!

I need to learn how to accept the happiness without overanalyzing. I need to convince myself that it's ok to be happy when I sit and remember how he wakes up in the morning, looks down at me with just one of those beautiful blue eyes open and whispers, "Good morning love". Or how it makes me feel safe when he reaches for me in the middle of the night to wrap his arms around me. I need to let go of the crazy thought that I'm somehow less because I love this man with every fibre of my being. I love loving him - and I need to accept that that doesn't make me weak.

I May Be Dancing In The Rain Yet

If you love something set it free, if it comes back to you....

It came back to me. Now before you start banging your head against your keyboard and screaming, "Nooo DM please don't tell us you took him back," let me tell you the story.

Oh brief interlude, your comments have made me smile, laugh and cry. I cannot thank you enough for caring. Reading your comments at 3am got me through more than one lonely night. One of the best was from GB Girl. She wrote: If it makes you feel better, I've been flipping off every truck driver I see on the roads. Just in case it's him.

Oh hun I had wonderful mental images of perplexed truck drivers wondering what the hell they did to piss off that crazy bitch. It made me grin from ear to ear. Sorry to say you missed him though, I asked.

In my efforts to forget my broken heart I've been keeping busy. There's been lots of wine drinking, spending time with friends, texting those near and dear (you know who you are), did I mention wine drinking? Yeah I have been pretty much pie eyed shit faced drunk for two weeks. A week and a half ago, I'm at a dance with a girlfriend having the time of my life. Sober. For some reason that I can only call fate, I wasn't drinking. I got home at 2am and sat down to check email and a text came in on my phone.

"Decided not to dance huh?"

Remember I deleted his contact info off my phone. It took me several seconds to recognize the number and then it dawned on me who it was...the blue eyed boy. My heart immediately went into the 160 bpm range and my breathing stopped momentarily.

My reply:

"I was out"
Him: Ok
Me: Where were you?
Him: Insert club name
Me: I see
Him: Insert club name for you?
Me: Nope.
Him: Ah k have fun?
Me: Yep

Fuck that, I wasn't going to make this easy for him. At this point he said:

Ok, I'll leave you alone now.

And I asked, "M, why are you contacting me"

"Because I miss you and I miss us"

My breath caught in my throat and I had to close my eyes against the searing pain that coursed right through my heart.

My reply: "You do?"

"Yes"

Me: "And what do you want me to do with that M?"

Him: "Nothing. I'm sorry I bothered you."

And then I lost it.

No M, you don't get to do that. You don't get to text me at 2am and then just pull away and shut down. Goddamn it no.

Him: "It's what I am"

It went back and forth for another 5 minutes. I finally asked if he would talk, if I went and picked him up if he would talk to me, open up, explain to me what the hell this was. Then he asked me if I was going to hit him.

So I went and got him and we talked till 6am in my car. There's the fate I mentioned earlier. Had I been drinking that night, there's no way the rest of the night would have happened.

He admitted to not being able to communicate. He admitted to being angry at me because I asked things that he had no answer for. He admitted to being scared. When he held my face in his hands and said, "TM I love you" with tears in his eyes and more love than I have ever seen in a man's face, I was done for. I wrote before about how much I longed to hear those words.

Leather helps the forgiving process. This is what he landed with for me on Monday evening. He said he saw it and thought of me. That I would need it this summer when he gets the bike out.

He won't call it a "I fucked up and here have some really nice leather as an apology for my jack ass actions" present. No, he won't call it that. It's because he saw it and thought of me. Mmmmmkay  baby, I'll let you have your delusions.














I may be making a colossal mistake. I may be setting myself up for more heartache than I can possibly imagine. But right now, right at this very moment, I am brimming with happiness. This man has a selfish streak a mile long, he lives in a world, works in a world where his own wants and needs are the number one priority. Oh I'm not delusional enough to think that I am in any way, shape or form going to change him. He is however trying. There is no doubt that I feel completely and utterly loved. I asked him why he contacted me, why he came back. His response, because I love you. That is enough. For now, that is enough. It may not be enough tomorrow or next week, but right now I'm happy. So incredibly happy and loved.

If two months down the road he pulls away and shuts down, I'll rage and rant and stay drunk for several weeks, and I'll cry on my virtual friends' shoulders and I'll call him every version of rat fink bastard that I can think of ... and I'll have known what is to date the greatest love that I have ever had in my life. I'll have the memory of his arms wrapped around me as he whispers "I love you" into my hair. I can't walk away from that without giving it another chance, I can't spend the rest of my life wondering if it might have worked  had I the courage to try again.

So here I go again.....

A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss

And so it ends.

Officially, and perhaps more importantly, with the answers I needed to - if not mend my broken  heart - to at least partially fill my need to make sense of it all.

His text today, "I can't give you what you need, what you deserve. It will hurt less to end it now than in six months time. Sometimes love isn't enough."

"You cowardly son of a bitch", was my reply.

Then I went vaginal, he went silent and I said goodbye to my blue eyed boy. He was never mine, I see that now.

So after more than two weeks of radio silence I have my answer. I'm trying not to dwell on the thought that keeps running through my head....he simply didn't love me enough. It's what it all boils down to, but I can't dwell on that.
I typed all of that without crying. Progress...

I deserve a man that loves me beyond reason.
I deserve a man who will fight tooth and nail for my love.
I deserve a man who stays awake just to watch me sleep.
I deserve a man who is constantly willing to remind me how lucky he is to have me.
I deserve a man who when he says I love you, doesn't attach a dozen conditions to that love.

And I won't settle for less, no matter how much I miss his smile. It amazes me that even though he broke my heart, every little piece of it still loves him.

Silver Linings and Fucking Snow

Fucking snow.

Fucking fucking fuckity fuck fucker fuck snow. Bastard snow I curse you with every fibre of my being.

Why yes I am sick of the snow, how could you tell? It's been snowing for the last 693 fucking days. It's like snowfuckingpalooza and let me tell you it's getting old fast. I'm sure if I went back in my archives I'd probably find an almost identical post at this time last year. One where I threatened to punch all the skiers in the vagina and shove their poles up their arse. (No offense to any of my darling readers who might enjoy such a passtime).

At this moment I am stuck sideways in my driveway. Don't ask me how I ended up sideways...I am just THAT good people. It is 11:07 and my day is just NOW ending. I have been on the go since 6:15 this morning. Stab me in the face please.

My heart is still broken but let me tell you cursing like a crazy psychotic bitch who's forgotten to take her meds certainly makes me feel better. That and your comments. You guys are just the best damn bunch of people in the world. I say so so it must be true, right?

It was two weeks ago today that he told me he loved me. How do you go from that to this in two weeks? I don't understand. I just sit here and try to make sense of it all ... and no matter how many tears fall or how much I think - it doesn't. It doesn't make sense. I sent him a text yesterday morning, it said "I love you, I miss you" and he ignored it. He has never ignored a text I've sent him.

So the rat fink bastard has been deleted from my fucking phone and at the first opportunity I'm going to bitch slap the fucker like he's never been bitch slapped before. I'll take pictures and share with you.

Excuse me while I get another kleenex. I've cried so much over the last four days my fingertips are shrivelled up. One would think the amount of wine I've been drinking would keep me from getting dehydrated.

He's not a rat fink bastard. Truth be told if he were to walk in my door right now, I don't know that I wouldn't just fall into his arms like the lily ass bitch that I am. But he has been deleted from my phone. Every loving text, every sweet nothing, every picture of sunsets in New Hampshire and his smiling face have been deleted. They are all gone. My heart shattered in a million pieces doing it but it was the only way I could keep from contacting him. I don't have his number memorized. No number prevents me from making an ass of myself. I do have some pride left.

So the continual crying has stopped. Now it's just moments where I'll be driving along feeling part human again and I'll have a vivid flashback of something he said, or the way he looked at me and it's like someone punched me in the sternum. When does that stop?

The silver lining, I bought a pair of pants today in size 5. Size 5 people!!! I haven't worn size five since I was ....well probably five years old. Now before you go apeshit on my ass and tell me I'm not looking after myself I need to tell you this is what happens to me when I get stressed like this. It's happened twice before; when my mother died and when I left my husband. I rate my stress level by the amount of weight that falls off me. This would be a quadzillion and one on the richter scale. But I'm wearing a size five...GO ME!!

I will be ok, I will be ok, I will be ok. Fake it till you make it, right?

Should Have Left The Wall Up

I have managed to reach the ripe old age of 37 without having my heart broken. It's not an accomplishment I'm proud of and one I can no longer claim.

He broke my heart.

Now before the blogging world bands together and you all hunt him down and rip his testicles out let me explain. We'll see if I can do it without short circuiting my keyboard with my tears.

I went into this relationship with my blue eyed boy knowing what he does for a living. Knowing that he drives a truck and is gone 90% of the time, and LOVES what he does. I knew all that, and yet I fell in love with him anyway. My bad....

I also went into it with a little voice in the back of my head that said, from day one, he's going to hurt you. He says and does all the right things, but somehow someday he's going to hurt you. I put duct tape over the bitches mouth and buried her deep under my happiness.

It came to a head this week. I was looking forward to him being home on Friday. I was sooo looking forward to seeing him after two weeks. On Thursday he texted me that they had turned him around back to the states and he wouldn't be home. I went vaginal on him (that phrase comes from an amazing lady, I can't take credit for it). I was hurt, and angry and I needed him to assure me that he would somehow figure out a way to make this work, that he would do something, anything to ensure that we made this relationship work, that he wanted it to work as much as I did. He couldn't, or wouldn't. I think it's more wouldn't. I can't accept wouldn't. I can't be in this relationship feeling as though I'll always come second. That I'm the one who will make all the sacrifices to ensure the relationship grows.

So on Friday I sent him a text that I needed him to stop driving for 10 minutes and focus on us. I needed him to talk to me. He didn't respond and I haven't heard from him since. This may sound very strange to you and abrupt. It doesn't surprise me. My blue eyed boy loves to have control, he does not deal well with demands. I made a demand and he chose not to respond to it. His lack of response says so much more than any words ever could. I can't be with someone that has such little respect for us, for me.

It could have turned out so differently if he had somehow just shown me that I was important. That we mattered. I'm a firm believer in actions speaking louder than words. It's easy to say I love you, showing it isn't as easy. Never make someone a priority in your life when you are just an option in theirs. I can't be in a relationship feeling as though I'm an option. I deserve more than that.

I had no idea I could cry like this.

You know the crazy thing, I keep expecting him to pull in my driveway and wrap me in his arms and tell me he loves me. I know in my head it won't happen, but my heart keeps hoping.

The memories are killing me. He would call me and sing to me when I couldn't sleep. His smile when he walked in the door after not seeing me for two weeks made my heart sing. The total feeling of safety and love that washed over me when he put his arms around me. The way he made me laugh. I miss picking up the phone and hearing "Hi baby" in that beautiful baritone voice. Falling asleep with his entire body wrapped around mine. Those blue eyes that I lost myself in. I miss him so much. I miss all the things we're never going to have.

Goddammit it is not fair. I want to stamp my feet and rage at the fates that brought him into my life to hurt me like this. I can't because no matter how much I hurt right now, no matter how much the memories are killing me, I wouldn't give them away even if it meant stopping the pain.

He once said to me, "I want to dance with you in the rain ." I'll never get to dance in the rain with him....

On The Road Again

Things I've learned from dating a long haul trucker:


Soon has many a varied definitions - it could mean anywhere from an hour to four days

Cell phones are a mans best friend

Lot lizards are NOT an amphibian that you would buy as a pet for your nine year old

It is possible to send and receive 548 pages of text messages in one month

The name of every state along the eastern seaboard...and how long it takes to cross it

The weather forecast a week ahead for above mentioned states

If you're travelling behind a transfer truck and you can't see his/her mirrors, they can't see you

Google maps is my new bff

Receiving a text that says "I'm in (insert name of obscure town, village) and ok" will brighten your day and ease your mind unlike anything you ever thought possible

The bunk of a truck can be quite cozy...just sayin

Long haul trucking isn't a job, it's a lifestyle. Eighty percent of society has a totally warped idea of what that lifestyle entails. I know I did.

Those of us not driving transfer trucks are called "4 wheelers" and for the most part, we drive truck drivers nuts

Cowboy boots are incredibly sexy on the right man

So is a 4 day scruff

It is possible to miss someone so much it takes your breath away

It will also take your breath away when you see that someone walk toward you, after being gone for 23 days, with a huge smile on his face. When he crushes you in the biggest hug imagineable...priceless.

Driving for two hours to spend the night in a truck is not outside my realm of possibilities

Taco Bell is a food group...apparently

It takes more than the length of a football field to stop a truck when it's hauling an 8 thousand pound trailer. So if you're passing said trailer on the highway - make damn sure you don't pull in front of him abruptly. Think crushed beer can.

Most truck drivers don't drive when they're tired, they have no desire to make crushed beer cans out of your vehicle.

EVERYTHING you buy, own or eat, was brought to you in a truck.Think about that.

Cell service between the US and Canada blows hairy monkey balls.

It is possible to love someone so much, that receiving the text "Good morning baby, I love you" will make you smile like a fucking lunatic that's ready for the funny farm for the rest of the day.

I know what a turbo booster is - file that one under info I never thought I'd have.

I have it within me to relish the thought of living in a truck for two weeks, without running water, bathroom facilities or a coffee maker. If I'm coming through your hometown can I stop and borrow your shower?

I have patience, not saying limitless patience. Just saying I can hear I don't know or we'll have to wait and see without wanting to rip the face off of the person saying it to me.

Errrr...Ummm Hello?

Crazy lady steps to the microphone, head hanging with shame and a faint blush tinging her cheeks. "Hello?"

So I'm not blushing, but yeah hanging my head with shame, just a wee bit. I logged on expecting to have four followers left. To my surprise, I've only lost about 10 of you. This tells me one thing, you people never clean up your blog lists! What the hell is wrong with you? I haven't opened my blog since my last post. Seriously. I also didn't realize how much I missed this until.....right now. Putting these words out there knowing that some of you will read and respond and I'll respond back and we'll insult each other and you'll offer your words of wisdom and then I'll read all about your crazy antics and your dysfunctional lives and boy have I missed this.

I'm baaaccccck she says...as Satan shudders with fear.

I have stories!

But really it's the new man you want to hear about isn't it? C'mon you know it is.

Yes, he's still around. Yes, I'm still deliriously happy.

Yes, I'm in LOVE. I'm fucking in love people. I know, you're as amazed as I am right? In love like I didn't think it was possible for this hard, blackened heart to love.

So be prepared because I'm going to bore you to shit with stories of the blue eyed boy. After I catch up on what everyone has been up to. Must go read.....

Oh I'll be back, I promise.