Monday, July 23, 2007

In The Midst Of A Milestone...

No, Silly, not a Mill Stone, a Milestone.

I say "in the midst" because I tend to think of it in terms of the entire week instead of this date and that date. I guess I threw in the "Mill Stone" reference because I've been stressed-out these last few weeks while it's seemed like everything came at me at once. I'm calming down a bit now, thankfully, and instead of putting all my effort into keeping myself from coming unlaced, I can come back to putting a little effort into updates... I think.


This week makes two years.

Two years ago last night, several things were different around here. Tulsa Speedway was still open and I was still racing close to home, very close to home. The big black race trailer was still relatively new and only in it's second or third week of haulin' The Twenty. The Twenty-Bago Idea hadn't even really been mentioned as an idea yet. and my MySpace Account had yet to come about, and I was still venting my feelings into a little black notebook instead of a blog. I was just a few weeks past my 10-year highschool reunion, and just a few months past the first time I'd ever ditched a guy because he sucked the life outta me (as in not because I met somebody else, I know that's kinda "ewww," but I'm bein' truthful here).

Two years ago, I was (finally) at that point where I'd learned that I didn't have to put up with a bunch of crap just because being "with" somebody was better than being by myself. Don't get me wrong, I'd put up with some crap, but I'd finally got to where I'd had enough, and then it was about like that "redneck divorce" joke; "Get out of my truck!" I hate to think "that guy who thought his shit didn't stink" got mentioned in two posts in a row, but here he is again. It was amazingly liberating to think that I, the girl who usually gets dumped, had been the one who decided being by myself would really beat the hell out of being with someone who was that hard to deal with.

Two years ago, I was by myself and it didn't bother me. Let me rephrase that, I was by myself, and it was good. Nobody was talkin' down to me about piddly bullshit, nobody was questioning my Christianity because I bought "Bad Santa" on DVD, nobody was bitchin' about my driving, nobody was askin' me what I was doin' or who I was talkin' to, nobody was tossin' their keys across the top of my car, nobody was lookin' down his nose at me and callin' me or any of my friends "fat," nobody was askin' me to loan 'em money for dog food, nobody was expecting me to "be polite" around his "mom" and her dog that I'd just hauled in food for, even though I hated the damn thing. Seriously, it was evil, they'd even named it "Memnoch." Oh shit, now I'm going to turn up in Go0gle Searches for "Memnoch."

Two years ago, I was amazingly comfortable with singleness; for the first time I could ever remember, I wasn't constantly on the prowl and wishing I wasn't by myself. I was gonna have my fun for the sake of my fun and I wasn't worried about anybody else. I was appreciating the fact that I could go where I wanted, do what I wanted and talk to whoever I wanted for as long as I wanted; at the races and just about everywhere else too. I was far, far away from being the girlfriend of the guy who bared his teeth and snarled at anyone else who tried to talk to me -- including track officials, my friend Donnie, and Craig, and even Craig's Dad. I was also quite happy to be far, far away from being the girlfriend of the guy who wouldn't come to the races, but would call my cell phone on race nights and say "What'cha doin'?" I was havin' my fun wherever it came from; hangin' with my friends, flirtin' with whoever, and not worryin' about it. Sometimes I'd spend time with an old boyfriend, even if it was a lot like harassing Sasquatch. I had my eye on a few interesting prospects, but I wasn't putting forth as much effort as I might have in the past; which was good, because sometimes spending time with those guys was like tossin' a football to a guy with no arms -- you can throw it all ya want, but he's not gonna catch the ball, and he's not gonna throw it back.

Two years ago last night, I was just hangin' out with my buddies after the races with nothin' goin' on...

And then Clay came along...

Clay came along and nothin's been the same since. It's been a fascinating two years with amazing Clay who knows all the right ways to make me feel like I'm the best thing ever. Amazing Clay who can drive me crazy without trying. Amazing Clay who knows he'd better not toss his keys or anything else across the top of my car. Amazing Clay who loves the races as much as I do, and even sprays "Shout" on my grubby racin' clothes. Incredible Clay who eats what I cook, picks up after me, fits in with my friends, lets me drive his hotrod while he's outta town, and doesn't just bitch-bitch-bitch all the time. Amazing Clay who doesn't mind helping carry armloads of yarn to the front of Hobby Lobby, and doesn't mind pushing the shoppin' basket, even if it's got "all that girly stuff" in it, and doesn't care that I leave tons of hair in the shower every time. Sweet Clay who wouldn't leave town on Valentine's Day without me. Sweet Clay who politely listens to my stupid ol' stories, laughs at my dumb jokes, and lets me fall asleep with his arm around me...

Happy "Anniversary," Baby!


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