For starters, I wasn't just updating the website tonight. I was also watching after the love of my life, who had a damn petit mal seizure today, puked her guts out, and still managed to smile and tell me she loves me. I'm pretty sure she was having some kind of partial seizure activity as she slept tonight, as well. With the meds it takes to knock this kind of thing back, it's best to keep an eye on her a while longer tonight, in case she gets up half-awake and stumbles around.
This photo you see here is of Julia and a former foster daughter of hers (whose face I believe is adequately left in anonymity here). The goose belongs to our boys' "adopted" Grandma, Elizabeth. We spent the day, along with our three youngest boys and one of Grammy's neighbors, clearing brush that last week's ice storm brought down all over Grammy's property. This is the same dear old friend with whom I once held a Mexican gang member at gunpoint (in her home, which is just behind the photographer). But "Grammy" Elizabeth doesn't wait around for Latinos with a loaded gun all day. She's no more two-dimensional than I am. In fact, she lived for years in Sub-Saharan Africa and Northern South America, and is herself an adoptive parent. When her son went into the Air Force he asked me to watch after her. Well, we watched after each other. I don't stay in touch like I should these days, but we do what we can and we don't what we can't in life.
So here's Julia smiling. Why is she smiling? Because that's who she is, man. And she's smiling even though we had just found out that the big log house we'd been hoping to buy has already sold. We couldn't move fast enough or with enough clout in the market, even though I could swing a hefty down payment and have never been late on a loan payment in my life. Trouble is that I've been so careful to stay out of serious debt my whole life that I'm effectively invisible to lenders. So, it doesn't matter that a big house would be great for the kids, that we already pay more on rent than we would on a mortgage, or any of that stuff. We just don't fit into the right boxes on some stupid F-ing form.
But she's smiling, right? So how can I not smile? How can I not understand that, really, whatever, life is good and nobody's going to stop us from doing good things with it.
God, I love my Julia. She's brassy bold, looks like damn Pippi Longstockings, is a hell of a lot of fun, and she's just a wonderful person to be alive with. So it almost doesn't matter that her unemployment ran out and we're running on fumes until we can tweak her meds and get her back to work (we're both psychiatric nurses, RNs). It almost doesn't matter that my car's in the shop with a busted radiator. Heck, it really doesn't matter at all when I look at her asleep beside me like she is now. She knows we'll be okay, and I choose to believe her.
That's what my day's like. That's what my life's like. And I don't say any of this to brag about some imagined moral supremacy over anyone. I just think it's important to be clear with people who may be prone to making a lot of negative assumptions about what a guy like me must be like, running a fly by night private firearms research website and advocating respect for gun rights. Go hate someone else. Or better yet -- ask yourself why you bother hating anyone at all without attempting to understand them. Because if you imagine we're bad people, man, you've got a lot to learn.