It's pretty self-explanatory ... I got a job interview!!!  I am going to meet with the man in charge of Lipscomb's arts department and I'm gonna get a tour of the school and give them the opportunity to get to know me better.  They are still accepting applications, and there is no timetable for when they will select someone, but I think it's a really good sign that they are wanting to get to know me.

I am so very very excited!!!!!!!!!  And then a wave of nervousness washes over me ... but I want that job so badly!!!!!!!!!!  Y'all pray for meeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I stumbled across this creative writing assignment while I was cleaning the bedroom today, so I thought I would record it here for posterity!  We were asked to write a paragraph on a sentence that was said to us which changed our lives.  Here was my paragraph:

"In the comfortable, musty-dusty cab of Phil's truck, a life-changing realization came to me.  We had been on our first date, driving under the diamond-strewn sky with a milky October moon smiling down upon us.  The date had not been fancy -- Phil was a wonderfully humble man -- but it had been alarmingly comfortable.  My acquaintance was quickly seeming to me like someone I had known my whole life.  The casual conversation, which had drifted here and there like an errant butterfly, had settled on desserts.  I mentioned that I did not like cake, only cheesecake, and Phil -- with a slip of the tongue that changed lives -- unthinkingly replied, "Well, we can have cheesecake at our wedding."  While he verbally backpedaled, stuttering and turning a brilliant shade of red, I smiled at him and in my heart because I knew, then and there, one day ... we would."

And we did.  :)

So yesterday was Valentine's Day. I am totally in an emotional funk.

Phil and I have both been sick for the past week. I had a sinus infection, and he had a cold of the same sort. Hocking up a rainbow of mucus does not exactly qualify as the basis for a romantic evening, but it was the best we had.

It was sweet at the beginning of the week, when I was feeling worse than he was. I could barely move because I felt so terrible, and he cleaned house a little bit and made supper and went to the grocery store. I joked with him that I needed to get sick more often! But as Valentine's Day drew nearer, my anxiety heightened.

Phil has never -- I repeat, NEVER -- done anything for me for Valentine's Day. When we first started dating, I asked him to never buy me flowers because I believe flowers are a waste of money, and we simply didn't have money to waste. I didn't mean that I didn't want some kind of gesture on Valentine's Day! As the years went on, I have tried more and more to do things for him on Valentine's Day. I've written him little notes with his lunch. I've bought little romantic things for him. I've always made a huge romantic dinner (usually either starring lobster or crab), and set up the candlelight and the fancy glasses and pop the bottle of sparkling cider. I'll give him cards and this year I even bought him a big can of cashews (his favorite) and wrapped it with xerox paper and drew an elaborate design of hearts on the outside, so that the can is quite pretty now.

I do this because I love him, and I want to be appreciated. He'll look at me and say, "You sweet woman! Everything is so good! Thank you!"

And then that's it.

Over the past year or so there has been a growing fear (or, perhaps, realization) that we are not the friends we used to be. Phil used to say we were like "peas and car-rots" (like from Forrest Gump), and I would smile, because it was true. We did everything together. We were total best friends. He shared everything with me and I shared everything with him. Wherever Phil goes, I will go, wherever Phil stays, I will stay. He wanted my opinion first thing with any decision. We were a team.

After we got married, just through the progression of how things developed, his dad became more on the scene at the farm. And, because of the way things progressed, I was not Number One anymore. Phil and his dad make all the decisions now. I used to fight it; it used to make me so mad to go down to the farm because I stewed in the memories of the way things used to be. Too much of time has passed, and now I am just numb. I cannot fight anymore, and being passive is easier than angry. I can go to the farm with Phil and never get out of the vehicle. It is hard to feel left out if I was never there. Sometimes I told myself that I would not go down to the farm again until we moved there, but the call of the land is too great; I love that plot of property! It is my home ... it is where my heart longs for, and it's where I go to in my sweetest dreams. Sometimes I cannot deny myself going down there, even if it means a day of bittersweet torment. So I have removed myself.

This is how the distance began.

As time has gone on, the chasm has deepened. Sometimes major decisions are made that I do not even know are in the works until they are done. This, to me, defined uselessness to the nth degree: not only could they get along fine without me, but they could operate as if I never existed. Fine, the cold part of my heart answered. But not without a little part of me dying.

Some days I don't think we talk about anything. It's crashing in front of the TV, whittling away the hours until I can finally go to sleep. We're on distant, opposite sides of the room. Still, every day, I dress with him in mind, thinking of his reaction when he sees me, and I doubt if he could even tell me what I was wearing.

It's not that I don't love him, or that he doesn't love me. Quite the opposite, we love each other deeply! It's just ... when did I stop being his best friend and start becoming just his wife?

With a best friend, you talk to them everyday. You tell them compliments, and crave their smile.

With a best friend, you seek their opinion and advice. They are your go-to person, more than anyone else.

With a best friend, you can't wait until you can see each other again. Company is comfortable.

With a best friend, you mutually help each other out. Anything for a friend!

With a wife, you talk to them when the commercials are on. You tell them compliments if it'll shut them up.

With a wife, you seek their opinion and advice only if you think they might have a problem with it.

With a wife, you can't wait until you can leave their presence. Silence is golden.

With a wife, you give her a chore list to do when she gets home. Most things are women's work!

I suppose it is possible to be both a wife and a best friend, and I do believe I am still his best friend, but I want to be his best friend more than his wife. A best friend you take places; a wife you leave home.

And today, after he STILL has never given me anything for Valentine's Day, he has left to go to a meeting about the farm. "None of the other wives are coming." That didn't used to matter, when we were peas and car-rots. "My Gran and Aunt Dot aren't coming." Because I always look to see what the ladies do that are fifty years older than me!

But that's okay, because I am a wife, and you leave the wives at home.

Yesterday, he told me that he was going to get me a CD for Valentine's Day, but he never got around to it. I make him this elaborate meal and hand-decorate his present, and I am a full-time teacher and student, and he can't get around to buying me a CD?

And that is the most that he has ever DONE for me on Valentine's Day!

I just ... want my best friend back. I want my friend that did sweet things for me when there was no special occasion, who truly listened when I had something to say. Who would have sensed that I was drowning in my own cacophonied loneliness. I want my Phil and my dreams and my farm and my life back.

Oops, I'm sorry. Better stop here. The commercials went off.