Burying the Lede. Again.

Picture this: last evening at 5pm…I’m still sick with the flu (but recovering) on the sofa in my flannel jammies, the ones with happy little owls sprinkled all over a turquoise background, drinking ginger tea (I’m always drinking ginger tea lol) and hub calls.

He casually chitchats for a few minutes about how I’m feeling and about the rain we had and then asks me if I’ve checked his email today (I check his email when he’s gone cos he doesn’t have access to it AND because we have no secrets) and I said no, but hold on, I’ll look right now.

I tell him there’s nothing there and he said, oh, I guess they didn’t cc me.

I said, WHO didn’t cc you WHAT?

No response.

Silence.

I start feeling a little apprehensive.

Not for any other reason than after twenty-two years, I think I’ve finally figured out that hub’s silences speak volumes.

Tugboat man-a man of few words-enjoys observing my mind make quantum leaps.

Oh, don’t even tell me, I said. SILENCE. Absolute silence.

AREYOUFLYINGHOMETOMORROWANDYOU’RETELLINGMENOWWW?

His response? Laughing. That’s it. He laughs.

So…boys and girls, after waiting and waiting and waiting, and thinking for sure he’s coming home on Tuesday,  it’s official.

Tugboat man will be home TODAY.

I’ve never met anybody in my entire life that could bury the lede like he does.

Now is the season for miracles and it’s gonna take a miracle to get me ready and to get some food and freshly baked goodies in this house.

Wish me luck, ‘cos I’m gonna need it.


 

BURYLEAD

FYI, if you’re a writer, you know this is how things are supposed to go!

Read about another time he buried the lede (or lead)

 

 

 

Featured image via Google Images by https://talesfromtaughlumny.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/pbear-coming-home1.jpg

my part-time marriage

You know what I hate more than my tugboat man’s delays that prevent him from coming home?

I really hate all the people who don’t stop asking me when he’s coming home and give me a sort of a snarkly schadenfreude look when I tell them I don’t know or you’ll see him when I see him–they invariably ask me why I stay married to a guy like that–why I put up with it.

That’s just so f***ing rude.

Or they make dumbass comments about how much fun I must have being single for 50% of the time and do I go out and party a lot and how he must cramp my style when he’s home.

Or the one that really gets me boiling…they wish THEIR men were gone most of the time like my guy, cos their hub is annoying, stupid, lazy, boring–or a combination of a few or all of those traits.

Since I don’t normally unleash my UBER-BEEYOTCHY side on the people I see on a regular basis, I’m doing it here.

Let me clarify…

We have a twenty-two year marriage that’s built on trust, love, commitment, strength, and respect.

WE ARE A TEAM.

We’re in this marriage together–TOGETHER–whatever it is, we deal with things TOGETHER– not as adversaries blaming each other, but we work on issues and problems as a TEAM.

Whether his career now takes him out to sea and offshore and away from home for six weeks or two months or even four months–it’s a blip on the radar of the love we share.

Oh, and for those who wonder if I’ve ever been unfaithful or if he has relationships in every port–let me tell you that I can be 1000% certain that has never and will never happen because our marriage motto is FULL DISCLOSURE.

We never keep secrets; there is no reason to–we’re each others besties.

And there’s no one in the world that could ever replace him.

And yes, even all the shopping I do (and the Chanels, whether it’s a necklace or a handbag)–it’s MOSTLY always discussed and is agreed to before it happens hee hee.

Physical distance is only one aspect of a relationship-it can blossom and grow no matter how many oceans separate us.

REALLY.


And here’s a little song from the one and only Frank Sinatra

 

(Featured image from http://www.newlovetimes.com/)

 

This is the life of a tugboat captain’s wife…

My tugboat man departed mid-September for what was supposed to be a six-week assignment.

In the world of the merchant mariner, that’s easy; a piece of cake.

He’s still not home and what’s today’s date?

November 22.

Will he be home for Thanksgiving?

Nope.

Will he be home the week after?

Hopefully, but no guarantees.

Am I complaining?

Only kinda, sorta, cos I’m pretty much used to this by now.

During the first fifteen years or so of our marriage, he worked in our local harbor as a tug captain and also as port captain of a tug company, and then with the downturn in the economy in 2008, he was offered an opportunity to return to his roots of long distance towing.

Not only is he a maritime academy (won’t tell which one) graduate and a high ticket tug captain, he’s a tow master.

Being a Master Towboatman is highly specialized and a difficult and often dangerous job.

Which is why if I don’t hear from him every day, I get a little (OK, a LOT) crazy.

Even though we do have limited satellite email, I haven’t actually SPOKEN to him in a few weeks, but tomorrow he’s going to bring one 800-foot-long barge into a port and exchange it for another one to take offshore and do whatever it is that he does (can’t tell you) and the highlight of my day is a PHONE CALL.

A TELEPHONE CALL.

Which makes me very, very happy!

So, in spite of my bestie not being here on this Sunday where Princess Rosebud (me) can make him his fave buckwheat pancakes, I am very thankful that I’ll be able to hear his voice tomorrow.

Gratitude…Take it wherEVER you can find it.

gratitudetexlagoon

 

if you love someone…

“If you love someone more than anything, the distance only matters to the mind, not the heart.”

I saw this posted on Facebook and it seems so very true—and helpful to remember at those times when we really miss our faraway mariner.

Like me, like now, when he’s been delayed AGAIN and might not be home for Thanksgiving and it all depends on the weather, so I’m sending good thoughts to Mother Nature to calm down a bit!

SIGH.

Our hearts are connected no matter where he is or how long he’s gone.

Being a Mariner’s Wife is a Constant State of Worry

Woke up to this terse email from my tugboat man:

emailtugboat

P.S. What he means by “go in” is sailing into a safe port, but now the weather is swirling all around him, and best practices dictate staying offshore. Oh, and “shitty” is a mariner term too haha.

I’m pretty sure I can speak for most mariner spouses when I say that we’re not completely calm unless our guys are on land — terra firma — and in our sightline.

There are just so many variables out there on the water; like that routine voyage from Jacksonville to Puerto Rico, which my hub has done a zillion times—can be fraught with danger.

IF everything goes wrong. Not just one or two things, but as in the case of El Faro, EVERYthing went wrong. Loss of engine power, taking on water, steering directly into the eye of the hurricane. Like that.

I checked the National Weather Service offshore waters forecast for the area he’s in and it’s not great: high seas and strong to GALE FORCE winds with a late hurricane season disturbance.

In mariner terms, winds are categorized on the Beaufort Scale. Here’s a graphic:beaufortscale

Even though I know he’s the BEST captain in the world-

Even though I know he’s the SAFEST captain in the world-

Even though I know he’s been through dozens of bad storms all over the world-

Even though I know all of that, the El Faro tragedy is so fresh in our minds that it causes more worry.

I keep the boat phone handy—just in case.

I monitor the weather—just in case.

I put the company phone number on speed dial—just in case.

The worry is a constant thread that runs right along with all my other thoughts.

Like keeping a tab open on the computer and refreshing it every couple of seconds.

The worry is there at the gym during an (amazing) kickboxing class.

The worry is there grocery shopping.

Watching television can’t drown it out, nor does reading a book. (Poor choice of words.)

It’s very stressful, and when retail therapy doesn’t work its magic, you KNOW I’m super worried.

Tugs are very sturdy vessels; I’m sure he will be FINE.

After all, we have to decorate the nursery, right?

b4435b75e99e6e0b77e1eef60e97db78To all the mariners out on the high seas, be extra careful.

And a little merchant mariner humor…

e5c00b9eb0acba9500a514b7a2d80458

My Tugboat Man is Gone and I’m Blue

It seems like I can just copy and paste the same posts because the same things happen over and over again.

It begins…

Tugboat man withdrawals. Cold turkey.

I took him to the airport at 4:30 a.m.

Once again there’s that lonely ride home.

This time he’ll probably be gone for six weeks or so.

Hopefully, but that’s what was supposed to happen last time, and it turned into FOUR months!

And because I try to find silvery and sparkly linings in most difficult situations, I came up with these…

blueskywrds

I pointed my camera straight up because the sky was so blue, more blue than I’ve seen in a long time. Not a cloud in the sky.

And so hot. Record-breaking hot. Drinking ice water all day.

And nope, I can’t go with him, in case you were gonna ask. 

Sky blue, SO BLUE — can you believe this is an un-retouched pic I snapped in our backyard? Kind of heart shaped, can you see it? If you tilt your head just a teensy bit to the left, can you see it now?

blueskythursday2

My old friend, Willie Nelson, singing “Blue Skies” by Irving Berlin

The Life of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife

This is so me when I heard he’s going to be helicoptered in to a remote offshore location…

tumblr_m5n9rqEtY91qbaj4uo1_500

When he’s home, like he’s been for about a month, I can totally erase from my mind the fact that he’ll have to leave –a little amnesia — and when “the call” comes in, I get all cranky and whiny, because it’s time for the fun to end and my other life as a single woman starts all over again.

It’s another critical situation and so far away only a helicopter will be able to approach — and then what? Land on a boat? In the water? Will he be dropped down a rope? Loaded in a basket?

He isn’t here right now as he’s a a United States Coast Guard class for licensing maintenance (at least it’s local) but when he comes home, I will definitely get the answers to my questions, not that any of them will make me feel great, but at least I’ll know what to expect.

All I know for sure is that whatever it is,  it’s dangerous.

And I’d rather have him here, at home, with me.

But he has to go, and like he says, the sooner he goes, the sooner he’ll be home.

Or something like that.

how to excite your spouse (or why you men should really listen to us)

What happened in our home a few minutes ago is a perfect example of one of the many differences between men and women and if nothing else, it succinctly illustrates the very real fact that men do NOT listen with their full attention when we speak.

The facts:

I was cleaning the bathroom this morning.

Hub was in the garage.

I walked out to the garage and said to him…

“I need some white caulk”

THAT IS OBVIOUSLY NOT WHAT HE HEARD because his response was, with graphic hand gestures (ahem)…

“I’ve got some right here for you.”

End of story.

My plea to MY husband AND your significant other:

Please pay attention to us so that you will be spared the embarrassment (and disappointment) when you actually comprehend what we’ve said when we talk to you.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to CAULK the area around the shower.

Have a lovely weekend.

caulk

Women Are From Venus, Men Are From Stupid

SOME men.

All right, MOST men.

Why am I throwing down the gauntlet with such a broad and inflammatory statement?

Because I am REALLY REALLY tired of tugboat man being gone more than 120 days, that’s why.

ONE HUNDRED TWENTY DAYS PLUS.

I flew up to San Fran to spend the weekend with Angel Boy and DIL which consisted of making breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks for three days — and hiking until my knees hurt and I had shin splints in both legs.

Oh, and scrub the toilet, wash the floors, and take a toothbrush to some pretty gnarly tile grout.

Just another day in the life of a mom.

As you can expect, I’m exhausted; and now that I’m home again, I planned to take it easy for a few days and leisurely prepare for the arrival of tugboat man, who was tentatively (again) scheduled to return next weekend.

That is, until late last night when I received an email along with flight arrangements.

FOR TONIGHT.

TONIGHT.

No food in the house, I mean none, except for hummus and coffee. And wine, of course.

First thing this morning, I ran off to the grocery store.

I’m taking a five-minute break before baking oatmeal cookies, granola (his faves), and banana bread…putting up the welcome home signs, managing a bit of personal ‘scaping and scraping, and chilling the champs.

This is pretty much the longest he’s ever been away and I’m not gonna lie, it was becoming a bit unpleasant, so that’s why I think women are from Venus, men are from Stupid.

No real reason, just a feeling.

(Until he walks in the door, that is!)