Mood:  caffeinated

The emotional tempest has passed.  Mike had a marathon talk with London on Tuesday and both emerged relaxed and happy.  Mike says that our little family in our little apartment is going through "growing pains".

In his heart what Mike wants more than anything is for London to live here for a while.  He suffered a nervous breakdown when she was sixteen and wasn't able to help her much during the next two years.  Now he is in a position to offer her a safe roof over her head.  Although, as Reflection pointed out, she does have to put up with living with a crazy person.

I'm not a mean crazy person.  But I am fragile.  I can only imagine that during their talk Mike said to London, "If you are mean to Karen you can make her psychotic."  And it is true.  For several days I feared the anger that was in the house and I withdrew behind thick emotional walls.  It seemed like I was cold and emotionally distant but, as Mike explained, I was trying to preserve and protect myself.  I did long for London to ask me a happy question or engage in lighthearted banter - but fear made me avoid being the one to break the ice.

The day before everything was settled was disasterous.  London's boyfriend came over to visit, invited inside by Mike.  I was in bed resting when he said to me, "Throw some clothing on, we are going to meet Justin".  Mike had forgotten the rule that before someone comes into the house I am to be given a day's notice.  Not something that a normal person would need, I know, I know.  But, as my therapist has said, "schizophrenia is primarily a social disease."  What I think she means is that medication can control many symptoms but the person's maladjustment in social situations remains untouched.  People, their simple presence, affect a schizophrenic more than any other object.  People are our greatest challenge and our greatest fear, because they have the power to greatly aggrivate our illness.  I am not a shy person but this illness makes me behave as if I were indeed very shy.

Justin is a great kid who has a fast mouth and agile mind.  His most flattering quality is self confidence.  The visit went well although, according to Mike I "looked like a deer caught in the headlights".  I was stiff and frozen saying almost nothing.  After London and Justin left I became psychotic talking about "blue boats", "black ants" and "red turtles".  Mike felt that if he could just get me to bed and hold me that the physical contact would snap me out of it.  Apparently physical touch grounds me and returns me to a more logical state.  Luckily I also asked for his help in giving me medication as well, and took a bit of my narcotic and a fast acting old school anti-psychotic Trilifon. 

Mike said my reaction would not have happened while I was taking the anti-psychotic Seroquil, that it is because I am on the weaker Geodone that I am so fragile.  My greatest problem on Geodone has been feeling a mild pain of being suicidal that comes and goes every day.  I'm certainly not psychotic every day but at some point I do feel as if I wish to die and there is something wrong and abnormal in that.  Happily, the day after I took the emergency dose of Trilifon I was steady as a rock and had no suicidal feelings.  So last night when they started to return I took another Trilifon and this morning feel pretty strong and even tempered.

In several hours time I have an appointment to see my therapist.  I'm going to request that we add Trilifon to my drug cocktail.  I did once have a bad reaction to the drug where I couldn't focus my eyes, and honestly, all this morning I've been worried about it, testing myself to see if the focus is normal.  Something is a bit off.  I think the trick is to take the drug in the evening once every two days, and if there is a side effect it will only appear in mild form on the first morning.  I've got to also tell my therapist that since we've last met I've added 20mg of Geodone, doubled my anti-depressent, and now need Trilifon too.

Last night London was with me in my bedroom while I was painting.  On the wall there are two artist's easels.  She pointed to the painting that was created from when I took Seroquil and said, "new style" and then pointed to the painting I am currently working on and said, "old style".  Meaning, my art now is resembling the first artwork I ever made while on Risperdal.  I played the game and pointed to the dry Seroquil art and said, "strong medication", then pointed to my new wet painting and said "weak medication".  Mike says that I have lost all desire to make three dimentional space, everything is flat and two dimentional.  I just shake my head and look at what I'm doing and think, "brain damaged".  It is weird beyond weird to change medication and see your art change.

Posted by dignifyme at 8:04 AM EDT

Updated: Thursday, 28 September 2006 8:25 AM EDT

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Mood:  quizzical

Yes, the idea of having London cart the dog around with her has been bothering me too.  I'm new at being a parent and making up rules.

What went through my head today way, "What if London goes out to a club dancing in a city and someone steals her dog?"  Or, "What if the temperature in the car is freezing and the dog gets cold?"  What Mike and I want is for London to take responsiblity and keep her promises.  When she arrived to live with us she arrived with a puppy who she claimed was "her best friend" and who she would take everywhere with her and for whom we would never have to be responsible. (As I write this Cerberus is lying at my feet.  London is in school.  We take care of the dog a lot.) 

My husband has never had a dog, the dog he carted around when he was homeless was London's dog named Coco.  Eventually Coco found a new home with a recently divorced Dad who was missing both his kids and the dogs who now lived with his former wife.  When a child has a dog you can expect the parent to end up taking a lot of responsibility for the animal.  But London is 21 and she felt it necessary to get a dog at this time even though her life was very unstable.  Now that she has the dog, if Mike and I always end up taking care of it she basically ditches the consequences and responsibility of her decision in our lap. 

I am having a change of heart about the dog, though.  My mind really was shocked when I came home today from my Museum volunteer job and saw that London had done the dishes.  She didn't have to, I think it was my turn.  It was a very "family" sort of thing to do.  Taking care of the house without being asked.

From my view point London has been searching for safe, secure family her entire life.  It is like a core theme of her life, not of her own creation, but from the situations that have been imposed on her by the adults around her.  What Mike and I are offering her here now in Vermont is very stable, and growing more family orientated.  We three ARE growing into a family.  So then, doesn't family take care of the pets together?

Telling London that she needs to tote Cerberus around with her, I think, was a ploy to stop the integration of the family.  It was a sign saying "Don't take advantage of us!" and "Our lives are separate from yours!"  "Remember, your living here is only temporary!"  But the more I think about it, the more I want to encourage emotional reliance and bonding.  There is that old image of the mama bird pushing the baby bird out of the nest, forcing it to fly.  Mike and I have felt that that that was our job with London.  And yet, the lure of family life is strong.  Tomorrow night is "London night" where we cook what she wants for dinner and watch togther whatever movie she choses.  Tomorrow we will probably eat steak for dinner and watch the Walt Disney animated movie "Pocohantus".

One night recently l said to London, "Let me tell you a secret.  If I let myself care for you, and you reject me, I will be devistated.  It takes a long time for me to make a friend and I don't trust easily."

London had tears in her eyes and she said, "I don't trust easily either."

I've been thinking about the strengths of family, and I think that family always gives you a second chance.  They let you make mistakes.  That is where the permenence lies.  You don't have to be perfect, just as good as you can be at the time.  My family never, ever gave up on me.  Maybe Mike and I should focus more on giving London a family here instead of temporary shelter as she tries to get her college degree.

Posted by dignifyme at 6:27 PM EDT

Updated: Monday, 11 September 2006 6:41 PM EDT

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Mood:  irritated

I've just been asked by a family member to deleat a blog entry.   If you read what I wrote, and you now see it missing -  well, you can guess why.  I know that at least you read it Pam. 

It is too bad that criminals get the kind of protection that they get. 

Sometimes it is important, when trama has impacted on your life or the life of a loved one, to talk about the reality of the crime and the consequences that it has had for the victim and the victim's family.

I'm afraid, at this point, the criminal has too much power over this family of mine. 

Stories of fear and horror need to be voiced, not silenced.  How else are we to understand the kind of world that we live in?

Posted by dignifyme at 10:38 PM EDT

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Mood:  sharp

"Everyone knows that Karen is the head of the household." - London

I got two comments from the last post about having a gun in the house.  The first was an email sent by a worried family member who pointed out that right now I have been having increased depression and I have a history of one suicide attempt.

The second comment you can read, it is by JSR, and I have to say, I'm really honored that he is reading my blog.  My webite and this blog might not exist except for several internet pioneers who had a schizophrenic illness and put up websites all on their own.  JSR is one of the few who first self-published information on the internet that was honest and helpful to people with the disease, their families, and psychiatric workers.

Recently we have been taking unusual precautions with the gun.  It is stored empty and locked in a large, strong, wooden box.  The ammunition is stored separately in our barn in a smaller but also locked box.  After we got the first email we had a serious family discussion here in Vermont with London, Mike and myself. 

It isn't so easy to simply get rid of the gun.  It originally belonged to Mike when he was a policeman many years ago.  Thus, he has sentimental attachment to it.  It was promised to pass to London on her 21st brithday, which, just this July she celebrated here.  She is living with us for the next several years while she finishes college.  Then she is planning to become a private detective and I believe that she wishes to carry the gun her father once carried.  There are my needs to be concidered, but there are also the needs of the two other family members that I live with.  That gun represents a father-daughter legacy.

Currently, the large box that the gun has been locked in is being used as a coffee table.  We decided to lock it in another location which isn't so obvious to me.  Then, London put the key on a necklace on her neck.  Only a 21 year old foxy blond who works in a grocery store and goes to college could get aways with such a fashion statement.  She is a little punk, wearing a dog chain along with two watch bands buckled together as a choker all the time, even when she showers.  So for her, perhaps a key around her neck is no sacrifice.  For me it is very sweet, it seems like she is ready and willing to stand guard over my life.

Then London and Mike went into our large, junk stuffed barn and hid the ammunition box Lord knows where.  I personally voted to pass the gun off to another family relative but we would have to carry it in the car and pass through different states with different laws about carrying a gun in the car.  At times moving the gun would not be legal.

All my life history with guns are mostly stories of watching drunk mischeif and near misses.

I lived with a boyfriend in my late 20's who was a rifle marksman.  He also collected antique WWll japanese rifles.  He had started out squirril hunting in Georgia with a gun and a dog as a boy.  I remember watching him early one morning stealthly opening the back window of the bedroom.  He stood totally naked with a rifle in his hand.  In the garden was a wild rabbit eating his lettuce.  Carefully he aimed, shot, and killed the animal clean with a single head wound.  There were trophies that he had won in marksmanship competition displayed on a shelf in the kitchen.

People with guns usually want a hand gun in a drawer right next to their bed, loaded, where it is instantly available if a night intruder should enter the house.  My boyfriend lived that way and so did my husband for a long time.

One evening my boyfriend and I were having an argument.  He had been drinking whiskey and was pretty drunk and depressed.  He went into the bedroom and told me he was going to shoot himself in the head.  I stood in the hallway talking to him because I didn't want to enter the room and perhaps have to witness a suicide.  Eventually I heard some clicking with the gun.  Not knowing anything about guns or the gun culture, I assumed the clicking was him loading the gun with ammunition.  I steadied myself and got ready to hear a shot.  What my boyfriend was in fact doing was unloading the gun.  But it certainly was a terrifying moment. 

What JSR intimated about alcohol and guns being a dangerous mix is very, very true.

My husband's second wife was an alcoholic.  One day his brother came over to visit.  My husband opened the front door, admitting his brother, and then his very drunk wife appeared at the top of the staircase, angry, waving a loaded gun at both men.  They felt like they were bargaining for their lives, convincing her to relinquish the weapon.  That same loaded gun was also "played" with by his young daughter when no one was home and she accidently shot a chest of drawers with it.

I have, unfortunately, one gun story about myself.

While I was living with my gun collecting boyfriend I did overdose on Klonopin, a tranquilizer, and whiskey.  I called 911 after ingesting quite a bit and they took me to the hospital and pumped my stomach. 

A little while after I got out of the hospital I wanted to try again but this time with a gun.  I had this strong idea that I should drive my car down a country road, pull over, and shoot myself in the heart.  The same place Van Gogh shot himself.  This thought was repetative.  One quiet evening I was alone in the house and I felt like I was being tortured.  I really didn't want to die, so I put the loaded gun from our bedroom in a knapsack and rang the doorbell of the nice old couple who lived across the street.  The man had once said if I ever felt blue I could come over and have a cup of tea.  He was alone too that evening and my intention was to give him the knapsack.  We sat down for tea and he begain talking to me about how tough life can be sometimes.  He had years of experience of surviving life, like I think all elderly people do.  The gun sat in the knapsack on the table next to his wife's homemade blueberry crumb cake.  Eventually I realized, as I sat there, that if I told him what was inside the knapsack, it would come as a great shock to him.  He was unprepared for the bizarre thought problem I was having.  I wasn't hearing voices but I did "see" the image of myself shooting myself over and over again and it was very compelling.  It then felt so wrong to burdan this ordinary man with my mental illness and possibly frighten him badly.  What if he initially thought I wanted to shoot him?  He opened his house to me and I walked in with a loaded gun - that was something he might get mad about.  Eventually I thanked him for his stories and tea because they had truly made me feel better.  I took my knapsack back home.  Probably the next day I went into the hospital again.  I was in and out of the hospital frequently with that particular boyfriend.  No amount of medication could counter the fact that we were both people with a dark view of the world, and our darkness each enhanced what was in the other.  When we finally broke up and I left his house, that was only when the frequent trips to the hospital finally ended.

Posted by dignifyme at 11:43 AM EDT

Updated: Friday, 8 September 2006 1:12 PM EDT

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Mood:  d'oh

I'm listening to the sound of two dogs simultanously chewing bones in two different rooms.  Their saliva driven jaws are very loud, crunching and slurping.  Already this morning I have taken a shower, gone to Walmart to get dog bones, gone to the Dollar Store (more dog bones!), Grocery Store and Blockbuster Movies. 

Yesterday the big puppy Cerberus pulled a plant off a windowsill, dug out the plant and ate it, and started chewing on the plant container.  When London came home from work and school there was a big pile of dirt for her to clean up.  Tears followed shortly after.  Why hadn't Mike and I noticed what Cerberus was doing?  We were both home when it happened.  The truth is, since London was away, the grown-ups were playing captured slave and mean, wicked master.  Gasp!  We could leave our bedroom door open and make noise! 

The hard part of the evening wasn't the loss of my plant, it was a rather pitiful specimin that had seen better days, no, the hard part was finding what to say to help London to feel better.  At first Mike did a no-no, closing the bedroom door with him and London secluded inside and me on the outside.  Before London came to live with us he and I had discussed just such an event occuring, and why it needed to be avoided.  I don't mind Mike and London having private conversations, it is a natural thing for the two of them to do given their long history of being close pals.  But I had requested that if a private conversation is to occure it needs to happen outside of the house, out on a drive or walk or in a coffee shop.  What I was afraid of was hearing whispering voices behind my back or, as happened yesterday, walking though our tiny apartment with the knowledge plain as day that I am physically and symbolically shut out of a portion of my home as well as their relationship. 

The rule of the house is that London is free to shut her door anytime and I never enter her room without asking first.  But the balance of emotions between the three of us drastically changes when someone shuts themselves up in the room with her, excluding the other.  Mike and I didn't want either of our relationship with London eclipsing the relationship that Mike and I have with each other.  I can't allow myself to have secrete confidings with London about my feelings about her father, and he knows that he can't do too much about bringing his troubles with me to burdan her either.  Heaping the secrets of either adult on London may feel like an honor and endear emotional closeness but it is an unfair burdan as well.  Simply put, people in this little household cannot be pitted two against one.  The one unfair but necessary exclusion is when Mike and I come to a joint decision and tell London want we want or how we feel.  In an email to London before she came to Vermont, her Dad made me wince when he said so bluntly - "We are the alpha's and you are the beta."

I don't completely understand why London was so unhappy but I can understand that being in a new state without any friends is hard.  She just started school and a job and I am keeping my fingers crossed that she will meet kids her age that way.  I also wonder if Mike and I seeming like such a unified front isn't a bit lonely and intimidating.  There was good three year span in her teenage years when the two of them lived in a house alone together and did everything together.  Now the Dad of old days has changed.  Mike decided that the closeness they shared then, at this point in her adult life (and with me in the picture) would be, as he put it, "unhealthy".

One night the three of us were in bed together watching the excellent Russian supernatural thriller "Night Watch" when I glanced over and saw London curled up against her father like a little girl.  I remarked to Mike that it felt a little uncomfortable having another woman so intimate - even in a childlike way - with him in our bed.  The next day at work Mike emailed me.  He had been thinking, what if the shoe were on the other foot?  What if, we were watching a movie in bed, and I had my 21 year old son curled up at my side?  Mike then wrote, "Ehwwwwwwwwww!"  He was really distrubed at that picture.

The three people in a bed thing can't be avoided since our television screen is located on a chest of drawers at the foot of the bed.  We are a houshold with two bedrooms, a jam-packed library (over 4,000 books) and a kitchen.  No living room or family room!  We have managed to fit three very comfortable chairs into the library and there is a sofa in the kitchen so each room has a comfortable place to hang out in.  Talking about the situation kinda diffused it for me, and now I have made peace with how we watch movies together.

The flurry of activity this morning was to make sure that London had her favorite food for breakfast, a bone for her dog, and to surprise her with the new Colin Ferrel movie love story that she has been dying to see, "A Brave New World".  It would be nice if the three of us could take karate lessons together, we all have Tuesday nights free.  However, as Queen of the Budget, I want to wait until after the winter and after our next tax return to see how much money is safely in our savings account.  Right now the account is depleated because of the trip to San Fransico.   So, instead of karate, Tuesday night is going to be Family Night with an emphasis on honoring London's place in the family.  What we cook that night for dinner will be decided by London.  Then, London and her Dad can go together to Blockbuster Movies and rent whatever movie London wants for all three of us to watch together.

Posted by dignifyme at 11:43 AM EDT

Updated: Friday, 1 September 2006 9:23 AM EDT

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Mood:  spacey

Brought the dog home today from her kennel at the vetrinarian.  We borded her originally for a rabies quarenteen because she nipped a kid at a park.  After ten days we could take her home but by then my husband and I had flown to San Francisco to attend my sister's wedding. 

Plum Pudding has lost a lot of weight.  I can't imagine she was very happy at the vetrinarian, especially given our emotional state of my huband and I when we manditorily handed her over.  She has borded before, althought never this long, and never has there been visible weight loss.  Now her head looks too big for her body and her hip bones are prominant.  Happily she has already eaten two small meals at home.

Posted by dignifyme at 7:57 PM EDT

Updated: Wednesday, 23 August 2006 10:39 PM EDT

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Mood:  blue

I couldn't write here in my blog about what happened until several days had passed. 

My dog is safe, but she is in manditory rabies quarenteen at a local vet for ten days.  It is an expensive slap on the wrist and I'm sure a comfort to the parents of the little girl that she nipped at the playground.  My husband brought the dog there and then let it off leash.  Something he knew I would have never, ever allowed.  In our town it is not legal for dogs to be off leash.  And our dog in particular has lost all training when she is with my husband.  He is incapable of being a doggie authority figure for her and she knows it. 

This post is so painful to write.  I feel shame, guilt, fear, anger and worry.  The bite was to the eight year old's back and while Plum Pudding broke the skin the bite did not require stitches or a doctor's attention.  Thank goodness.  One hour after the incident the little girl was back at the park riding her bicycle on the sidewalk.  My dog was trying to herd the moving target - without training her herding instinctinks take over and bicylcles and cars and joggers are all targets for little nips.  It isn't aggression but it is a dominence gesture. 

About a month ago I forbid my husband to take Plum to the park on a fifteen foot training leash.  I had talked to a neighborhood parent who expressed fear about a lunging german shepherd and I got a good image of how wild Plum must be behaving when my husband takes her out.  With me she heels right by my side.  My husband she pulls.  I told my husband that now he was only allowed to walk her on a conventional short leash - a better means of controlling her.  Apparently my husband walked her on the leash to the park and then let her off the leash.  After the bite he mumbled something about hoping to give her practice in  "learning how to socialize" but it was laziness and daydreaming to think that giving a dog more freedom results in better behavior.  My husband let her off the leash becasue is gave him the chance to relax and smoke a cigarret or read a book free of responsibility.

When Plum comes home my husband is not allowed to ever walk or take care of her again.  He failed her and he failed me.  I'm scared becasue if Plum bites again there can be a police hearing to determine whether or not to put her to sleep.  Now her life is in my hands.  I wish we lived out in the country near woods with a couple of acres of land but we don't.  We live in a small town near the center of town where the buildings butt walls five feet apart.  Plum has to exist with people and I have to make certain that she is domesticated in any situation.  It will be more work for me, but I do look forward to having a closer relationship with my dog. 

Posted by dignifyme at 6:03 PM EDT

Updated: Friday, 11 August 2006 7:50 PM EDT

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Mood:  not sure

Arrived home late last night.  Wednesday I drove down to Connecticut to help my Mom find a dress to wear to my sister's wedding in two weeks.  We found the perfect dress.  Mom looked like a royal queen.  But she can't eat any sugar right now - the dress fits on her body very snug.  I got a dress too, but mine is light and airy.  My underware cost more than the dress, but Mom kindly paid for it.  Without me she would have had a very hard time finding something so nice.  I ran around the stores picking out and holding all the dresses, checked their sizes, getting a new size if required, and putting them back on hangers. 

I don't know how to feel about my life.  Having a sister who is getting married in a church in a lavish dress with a tiny waist to a man who's career is skyrocketing and pals around with multimillionairs makes one reflect on one's own circumstances.  I'll be very lucky if I get to keep all my teeth in these next ten years.  Shopping in Connecticut reminded me of the best benefit of money; you can pay to be around people.  Shopping malls, bookstores, and resturants are all places I used to go to in my first marriage to be around people.  My depression is very old fashioned - I'm lonely.  I've got a great husband and I love my dog and his daughter.  I love my art, making it and planing it and dreaming of a future where I get recognition.  So why the empty hole in the middle of my body?  I am baffled.

Posted by dignifyme at 8:53 AM EDT

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Mood:  irritated

The cats are beautiful while they sleep.  It is so hot here that they lie with furry tummies showing, paws splayed every which way.  Even as they sleep they are graceful.  And one position is never comfortable for very long.  They are continuously stretching and then shifting, eyes closed. 

The heat doesn't make me look beautiful.  I feel like a wet noodle.  We have an air conditioner that we could use in the bedroom (and then I would live in the bedroom) but we are saving money and not using it.  Our frugal living makes me proud.  But the heat combined with lousey eating habits is sapping my strength and giving me migrain headaches.  My bras are getting destroyed as well.  I sweat, the fabric weakens, and the underwire starts a tear and pokes out. 

The dog Cerberus has found the coolest spot in the house.  It is the tile bathroom floor.  Twice I have had to take his collar and drag him out of the bathroom, he is so reluctant to move.  Now I just let him lie by the toilet and step over him.

Posted by dignifyme at 12:01 AM EDT

Updated: Sunday, 30 July 2006 10:12 AM EDT

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Mood:  vegas lucky

The friendly cat, who is afraid of no body and no thing, is called "Miss Grey". 

Occationally when she is in a generous mood the dogs are "Miss Plum" and "Mr. Cerberus".  The dogs  frequently are misbehaving, but they are also very cute, so they pull at your heart strings in every direction.  Boo, the black cat who is skittish and does not like change is addressed as plain Boo.  And I am called "Miss Karen". 

This could be a sarcastic title, because traditionally young people don't get along with a step mother.  But given the evidence of how the animals are treated, how their name changes when they are favored, I'm of the opinion that my nickname is an endearment.

"Miss Karen" is also always said in sweet tones.  Perhaps her voice is always sweet.  Eh, I'm won over.

London came to us on July 2nd, one day before her 21st birthday.   My husband and I had been preparing our home for a foster child who we wished to eventually adopt.  As part of the state investigation into our home and life, we needed five letters of reference from friends or relatives.  London wrote us a beautiful letter of reference.  It was emailed for us to proof read.  Yet the original letter dragged and was slow to be sent out.  And so I wondered, did this show a bit of reluctance?

During a Father's Day phone conversation it came out that London was unhappy.  She was doing what she could to change her circumstances.  But from her perspective it seemed that the person who was going to benefit from the new experience of financial and emotional stability in her father's life would be our adopted child.  It wasn't just jealousy.  It is my guess that London was angrey at a world that had moved on too quickly, her childhood rights and privilages had ended, and any chance to live in a safe, nurturing enviornment had passed. 

While Mike was at work I sent him an email.  The idea popped into my head that we could invite London to live with us, on our dollar, while she returned to school.  The foster child was not real yet, just a future phantom, and we had real family that had real needs to minister to first.  Since our apartment is only two bedroom the choice had to be between one child or the other.  Our resources are limited. 

The first night London was here I asked her to dream a bit.  If she could get anything out of her stay with us, what would that be?  London said her first wish was to re-connect with her father and simply enjoy his company.  Her second wish was to stay long enough to get her Bachelor's degree.  A friend had warned her that his Associate's degree had done nothing to help him find work.   This news delighted both Mike and myself because we wanted, when London was ready to launch into the world, her to go with as much strength and advantage as possible.

Mike had been secrety hoping for some time that we might open our door and have London stay with us.  However, he rightly guessed that the only way it could happen without my feeling resentment (a new bride wanting a young child of her own.....) would be if the idea was first suggested by me rather than him.  So he played a waiting game and kept his finger's crossed.  Never did I feel pressured or manipulated.  Quite the opposite.  Interesting husband I have.

Happily, London is a young woman who brushes her teeth every day, makes her bed every morning, does laundry frequently, and takes her dog into her shower with her.  Thus she always smells fresh, her dog's fur is soft, and her room is always neat when you walk by and look in.  Our apartment is old so the walls are very thick and we can't hear her hardly at all when she talks on the phone or listens to television.  Most of the time she is on her computer.  A self proclaimed "geek", London's obsession is Japanese anime and internet role playing games.  Both fantasy pursuits she takes seriously and spends long hours quietly entertaining herself.  There is an enormus amount of writing involved in the online roleplaying games and from what I hear she creates very popular, memorable characters.  My guess is that one day London will become a famous published author of science fiction or fantasy books and people will look at her life and exclaim with envy, "You get paid for doing that?!"

Posted by dignifyme at 9:28 AM EDT

Updated: Sunday, 23 July 2006 9:02 AM EDT

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