But if my Daddy thinks I'm fine...

"If you were pregnant, I could paint henna designs on your belly!" he called me this morning to announce. I love my strange man and his strange ideas. I love how much sense we make together.

The funniest thing is that no matter who it is evaluating us, we seem to belong together. From dear friends who have witnessed our maddening evolution into the couple we are today to our Direst Foes. Even those of you who don't like us agree that we deserve one another! Don't you, Anonymous?

I am so over my fit from last night. It's kind of miraculous...I don't know what happened. I do know that part of what happened is I took control of my plans for the weekend, slept well, and woke up and talked to Question on the phone. That was nice.

And then, I sign in to look at my comments, and there's so much wisdom:

From the aptly named "Serenity Now Dammit!":

Patience. You can have both, but it's going to take patience. Tighten up your grip a bit, loosen up those expectations and focus on something else. He probably has so much anxiety about this new job that asking anybody to change anything for him when he feels like a piece of shit only causes him more anxiety. Look at the big picture. Is it going to matter in five years that he didn't go with you? Take a DEEP breath now . . . .

And from Wayward Son:

Talk about what you want and not what you don't. All the time. Talk only about what you want. Stop talking about what you don't want. Even if he talks about what he doesn't want Even if he talks about what you don't want. Talk about only what you want. Think about only what you want. Do it in the face of not getting it. It's worth a try.

And many, many others. I'm a lucky women to have found this wonderful community of electronic friends. Combining all of you with the wonderful women I see at my meetings and my real-life, pre-addiction girlfriends, I'm one lucky woman.

And so Mormonesque is going to come with me and be my date for the wedding. We'll be exciting Lesbos. We are even considering going to Massachusettes and getting married (I think it's still legal there). She'll be my third husband, and I'll be her first. Now Mr. Junky is suddenly afraid that his shop won't open and he'll be stuck home with no wife, no car, no nothing...which won't happen, because if the shop doesn't open, he'll go hang out with his friends and drink beer and pee on things. But we will have a marvelous-girl-road-trip good time, and I'm excited. Yay!

Mormonesque is a good friend. I've known her for a long time, but she's been a good friend since we've both been living here. I always liked her, but in this kind of distant way. She's a little younger than me, and when I first knew her, I was in the full throes of my cokewhoredom, and she was still rather naieve to the ways of cokewhoredom. But now, we're grown-up homeowners, and she's been a wonderful grown-up friend for me in a really gnarly part of my life. I'm not just saying that because she's probably going to read this, either...