Had Casey and The Screech here most of the weekend, until I had a hissy fit early this afternoon and he took his kid and slagged off somewhere. I’m just so tired of being trod upon. You know how they say the best thing about being a grandparent is you get to hand them back when you’re done? Yeah, I can’t seem to hand her back. Even when he’s HERE he expects me to supervise her the entire time. He stays around long enough to put her in bed (though doesn’t wait ’til she’s actually asleep) then goes out with his buddies until 3-4 in the morning. Then gets irritated with her when she gets up at the normal time in the morning and wants his attention. You’re her father for christ’s sake, play with the kid. She’s sick of Grammi already. And he knows that and gets all apologetic after. She’s two tomorrow and isn’t old enough to get that Daddy A) isn’t a morning person even on his best day and B) still wants to be young and stay out all night. So I alternate snark with blunt-ass comments about what he needs to do.

Her Birthday party is next weekend. Mr. Nice Guy lent quite a bit of cash to an old friend weeks ago and hasn’t seen a return on that since. His next week’s check is clear so he can throw her party then. And Buck is planning on going so I won’t. Let him have the day.

I’m forcing myself to read The Catcher in the Rye because apparently you’re supposed to have read this in school. I didn’t. Please tell me there’s a payoff in the end? This is on my top 10 most boringly pointless books of all time. If this whiny, hateful crap is all there is, how on earth did this crap get published in the first place? I don’t get it. Unless there’s something interesting in the end. I’m about halfway and I’ll really be pissed if nothing happens.

Max called with the latest deployment information. He’s being sent to Camp Speicher in Tikrit, leaving October 17th, spending a week in Kuwait again and then onto the base. Another month maybe until he gets a phone that works there. We’ve been through this before.

Other than this night, I tried really hard not to think about where he was and the increased danger. He didn’t tell me about getting hit by shrapnel and all that until he came home on leave. I don’t dwell on it. There’s nothing I can actively DO so there’s no point in worrying, right?

Except for some reason this time when I DO think about it I’m covered in this HUGE dread cloud. I don’t know why. I totally believe in the power of positive thinking which is probably why I don’t think about Iraq. This time is harder. I didn’t say anything to him, but this time is 10 times worse.

Think POSITIVE thoughts Debbie.

I’ve been wracking my brain about this fucking car. I’m so screwed. It Blue Books at around $4k and I owe over $16k. My credit is already shit, so I’m seriously thinking about defaulting and dumping the damned thing. Someone suggested bankruptcy. Never EVER get a Land Rover. This fucking car has caused me nothing but hassle and angst since I drove it off the lot. It’s been doing that shimmying grinding thing it was doing last year. Yes the parts were warrantied, but I can guarantee you that dealership will fuck me over as much as they can if I take it back. Plus the cheap Tire Pros tires I bought are already getting thin. I’m not picky anymore. I just want a dependable car with A/C (and maybe a decent stereo) that can move Ginnie and I and everyone else who depends on us for transportation. I have to have A/C. I spend way too much time sitting in this car waiting for other people and half that time with a baby in the back.

Can’t think of anything else. Catch y’all later.