Everything Has a Beginning

I am one of those people that has always hated writing in a diary, there isn't enough interaction with other people. As much as I would like to be a shy person, I am definitley my mother's daughter, and I can't help but want to talk to other people. (We can discuss my mother in more detail at a later date.) I suppose it is a good thing that I have always been driven to follow the rules, it kept me from talking to others when I was supposed to be quiet.
Anyhow, I still have this horrible habit of speaking my mind in not so appropriate places - I hope my blog can remedy that. :-)

On the off chance that you are a stranger reading my blog, you should know a few things. Brent, my husband, "the saint", is in the Navy and has been in Kuwait for the last 7 months. I don't know if you have ever experienced that kind of seperation, but I can tell you from my experience, it creates, and I have, a mean case of pent up sexual frustration.
When I was single, it didn't matter if there was a break in a relationship, there was always a guy to fill in (not that I would have had sex before marriage - kids, that's wrong), but at least there was someone you could reach out and touch without hellfire and brimstone drowning your every thought. (If you aren't married and don't know, it is voodoo to touch someone else when you are married, no matter how frustrated you are, and I guess they burn you at the stake if you do.) Anyhow, I can't even begin to describe how badly I want to "hold someone's hand". (Kids, that is all you should be doing until you get married.) The drive has gotten so bad that I had a guy hug me the other day - didn't matter who it was - and I couldn't help but not want to let go.
Fortunately for me, and you, if you are reading this with any regularity, Brent will be home in January and he will hold my hand all I want. Until then, I suffer quietly in a corner with gloves on. No touchie.