They say it's your birthday nuhnunuhnunuh-it's my birthday too.... :)

I love this day. Tonight my people are gathering together to eat and drink wine, and I love them all the more for it. :)

The big 2-4. My proudest accomplishment thus far: I don't have any kids. Praise JESUS! Seriously.

Last night I may have had one or two too many adult beverages. And when I say may, I definitely did. Good news is that Andrew has the day off except for the meeting he is currently in, so we got to sleep in this morning.

But while we were spending time with friends, celebrating a visit from one that is currently living in Cairo, my attention was brought to something I had forgotten about: Andrew left me one night. We were hanging out with the same friends, his friends from high school, and we were again partaking in adult beverages. He got frustrated because he was tired and wanted to go home and I was drinking, so he just left me there without so much as telling me he was going. Cam had to drive me home. It was quite the event at the time, as we had only been married all of five seconds.

I just wanted to write this down, because in my last blog about Andrew I wrote that he had never disrespected me or been embarrassed of me, but he has.

I love the way he smells and breaths and clasps softly at my hand in his sleep. The way he always falls asleep while driving, but when I'm in the car keeps squeezing my leg to stay awake-it's one thing to get in an accident when you're alone, another entirely when your wife is with you. I love that when we get tired together we laugh and laugh and laugh, well, we laugh after we've figured out the reason we're so irritable has to do with being tired. I love that he is tender with me, and has literally never once disrespected me. Ever. Really, I just thought about it.

He somehow(because he loves Jesus) always knows exactly what to say when I'm broken, he knows how to tell when I'm broken for that matter, and after the hot tears make rivers down my face he brushes them away and lets me cry some more. Until I'm done. Let's not fool ourselves though, I don't cry...

Even though I give him a really hard time about it, I love his morning stinky breath the way you love puppy breath because it's just so damn cute. I love the way he plays with kids, but that after we're away from everyone else in the car on the way home, he always turns to me at just the right moment and tells me that he's probably never going to be ready(which I am normally three seconds shy of telling him, so it all works out). I love that he is not embarrassed of me, even though I know that I often do things that are reckless, foolish, and downright stupid. He has never yelled at me. He has, however, threatened to blow me up with a pumpkin bomb a few times, but at that point we're just splitting hairs.

I love the way he melts into me when he's tired, how he is when his back itches, and that on our days off when we get to spend time together but have no money he chooses one of my two favorite things to do if the weather doesn't permit a hike: the library or the Humane Society. Truthfully, we never go on hikes. I'm a whiner and if the weather isn't just so I don't want to go. When the weather is just so there's always a million other things to be doing. But you know what? Even though he adores hikes he loves me and he has never complained.

I love that we eat meals at the table whenever we're both eating at the same time, which really never happens, but that when we do we don't even clear the surface. It's a hodge-podge of mail, bags, invitations, books, pictures, craft scraps, cups, clothes, and most of the time-Hurley. But we sit and hold hands and he prays thanking God for me and my willingness and ability to make a meal. Even though I have never spent more than an hour preparing a meal that just he and I are going to eat, my sister-in-law would be ashamed, that girl cooks.

I love the way his eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles or laughs, from years and years of joy. I love that I get to experience life with someone who spent almost every day of their life smiling, to know how the other half lives. I love that when we do market together he does most of the work, but when I do lift my share and sweat my share-he always thanks me and praises me for it.

Every fall when things start to get shaky for me as my birthday, the holidays, memories passed but never forgotten, start to approach, he just buckles down and snuggles me more. He tells me that taking a million credits is really good for me because he knows I have to be pushed to the limits to be successful. He encourages me in the things that will prosper me, that will make me feel accomplished, and if I fail or quit-he lets it pass quietly. Telling me there will be another chance to work on it or make it up.

He edifies me with his every move. He makes a conscious effort to love me with every-single-one of his actions, and I'm pretty sure all of this is why I do feel so loved. Why in return I adore him still and am constantly amazed I have managed to not only be in relationship but live with someone so long. I say so long because I never thought I would even have the capacity to be married, truly. I thought I would fail somehow, run the person off, cut them within an inch of their life with my tongue, but God has been so faithful and loving in giving me Andrew. I am so rich.

But I really do need to start hiking.

I've been missing him lately. We have only been meeting lips and noses and toes as we fall into bed together at around 11:30 each night. On Monday and Wednesday I managed to go have lunch with him at work as this is my last week before my 23 credit term, split between PCC and PSU=no life. Even today I was going to ride along with him as he did pick ups for work, and then hang out this evening. Instead, I am going over to a friend's because I have a feeling something is a brewing with her and her boyfriend of going on 2 years, and I want her to have the opportunity to spill.

I did have plans with Melika until 3 seconds ago, which I just cancelled, because dammit-I want to see my husband.

The funny thing is, I don't ever even really know what exactly it is I want to do. I find the most joy when we're actually doing nothing, like sitting next to each other on the couch holding hands and watching a movie. Maybe I'll get him to do yoga with me tonight....which would be a serious feat considering he has the dexterity of a 75 year old man.

One.More.Day. of double dose prednisone, and I am not sad at all whatsoever to see it go.

This post was more supposed to be about the amazingness of my husband, how grateful I am to have him in my life, what an amazing support system he is. How when I'm there for my friends going through crisis he has his phone in his hand the entire time waiting for me to call him should I need him. That he says the exact right thing at all the exact right times. That he looks damn good naked...that I am afraid something big and world changing will happen in the next few years and the thing I'm most afraid of is that I'll lose him.

So I am constantly reminding myself that I am far more important than the birds.

Did I mention though, his wonderfully kissable lips? ;)

It all becomes so muddled when your brain is befuddled by medical accomplishments that really just stretch your tenants and all you want to do is sleep all day and play all night and laugh in the face of those with their false might but instead you take the recommendations and swallow them with commendation and quantify the results with false joy and snide insults while praying that it all ends well you begin to notice your loss of smell but at least you can hear the mower of the man on the property lower through the two inch crack in your window that a week ago you wouldn't know-was there.

No tumor. Started prednisone two days ago. My brain is foggy but my hearing is clear-this is a good sign. Vacation was amazing. My predictions for the actions of the friendship lost and her subsequent choices were not only confirmed but far exceeded. I know she is hurting. I know there is loss. I understand it is hard for all parties involved. I just really had come to a point where I realized that it was a relationship in which her pain so eclipsed that of the people she called "friends" that she was no longer actually in relationship with me. She said she didn't want me to be her therapist. Yet all she wanted me to do was listen and listen and listen and if my opinion conflicted with hers to keep it to myself....kind of like a therapist would do. A friend of mine recently started seeing a therapist that I recommended to them, and one day said therapist asked me how I was doing while supporting my friend through her experience. I said that it is hard to know the "correct" thing to say, the healthy psychological thing to say, when all I want to do is tell my friend that the person causing her so much pain is an asshole and toxic and not to take their shit anymore.

He said to me "that is the luxury you have as a friend-you get to say how and what and why you feel. As their therapist, I can only give the "correct" answer." So I ended something that no longer was a friendship. When I stopped being the therapist she supposedly didn't want, I was then too much for her. If someone wants my professional advice, actions, and opinions-they can pay me. The rest of my friends know who I am and respect that. I am comfortable with all of this, regardless of the fact that I know the woman I hurt is sensitive, regardless of the fact that even though I am hurt and angry I am sorry that I am hurting her so deeply. Above all, I am sad that it is irreparable. Especially after a comment about how I am "treating her like I treat my mother." Some people have big cohones, some people are ignorant uneducated assholes. I for the most part choose not to associate with the latter.

Also, a side effect of the new medication is euphoria. I laughed through a three minute voicemail on Melika's phone yesterday and only realized after hanging up that it was 100% due to the medication. This is still funny to me.

Sometimes it all bubbles to the surface, and you let it.

Clank. Click. Clank. Click. Clank.....

For 45 minutes they say "don't move. at all." So you don't. You try to focus on the grey strip, the white of the tube, but if you do that for too long you realize that you're inside of a very small space and that nobody can hear you scream. Instead you close your eyes and realize that this sounds, through the ear plugs, through the headphones playing a radio station you picked and instantly regretted, extremely similar to the test from the audiology and vestibular lab. The one where they stick this little goopy wad of cotton-like substance into your ear, then plug a wire into it, and then it clickclickclickclick-s for about fifteen minutes a cycle.

Similar, but different. Before they were just testing your hearing, your sense of balance, the pressure inside of your ear. Today, they're looking for a tumor.

The hearing tests come back making statements like "Heather is crazy. Her hearing is fine. Ignore her frustration and situation because it is all in her head." Fortunately, my doctor told that damn test to shut up and wrote me a prescription for a tumor shrinking medicine, but told me not to take it until he called me after the MRI. The MRI including a dye used specifically for finding acoustic neuromas.

So now I just wait. I called this morning as he had said I could call the day after the test, but apparently he doesn't get in until this afternoon. More waiting. The tumors are almost always benign, and are treatable. Each treatment carries risks, as does all surgery or radiation, but at least we would finally know. Meniere's never felt right. Maybe it is, but this would make far more sense.

Onto other news: Grow the hell up. If you're going to talk about how I am stunted and going nowhere, quit acting like a fucking child yourself. You're upset because people have opinions? Join the Amish community. You like being surrounded by people who are going to lie to your face and tell you just what you want to hear? Continue to shut out all the people who have held your hand through the tough shit. Who know what a facade you put on all the time and don't care. Quit calling, quit caring, and by ALL MEANS-PLEASE talk about them behind their backs. Make bold statements that you know nothing about, since you've been so damn successful yourself, and then get upset if they ever confront you. Tell all of the people that are still a part of your life(your relatives. you have managed to run off the few friends you had) what a victim you are. How it's so sad that nobody supports you anymore, nobody wants to spend time with you. Guess we should all eat worms. I am so. beyond. angry. at you right now. I am so.beyond.frustrated. that you of all people could help me right now. that I was there.every.day for a very long time and tried to help you the best that I could with the resources I had, and your statements compared me to someone who is a moocher to the core and has never done anything of substance. Fuck you. Truly. You were there when I worked for an international company at the age of 20. You were there when I made more money than your husband was when he was working two jobs. You were there when I finally had the option to go back to school. However, you have not been a part of my success in school because I simply did not have enough of the "right" kind of attention for you because I have been SO DAMN BUSY MAKING SOMETHING OF MY SHITTY LIFE THAT I HAVEN'T BEEN TOO CONCERNED WITH CONGRATULATING YOUR MOST RECENT PREGNANCY. I'M SORRY THAT YOU NEEDED IT SO BADLY. I'M ALSO SORRY THAT EVEN YOU ARE BEGINNING TO RECOGNIZE THAT YOU'RE NOT MAKING THE RIGHT CHOICES ABOUT THINGS, BUT STILL FEEL THE NEED TO PROVE IT TO THE REST OF US THAT YOU ARE. Be angry at me. Never talk to me again. What-the-fuck-ever. I'm so over it that it hurts girl. Honest.