Almost done catching up!

Back in October of last year, the Paramount Theatre emailed me to give me a head's up that Anthony Bourdain was coming back to town. Added bonus? Eric Ripert would be joining him.

My head almost exploded. In case you don't know who Eric Ripert is (I mentioned him in this blog entry in 2009), he is a world-renowned French chef & author, specializing in French cuisine and seafood. I've seen him on several of my favorite shows (think: Top Chef, Top Chef Masters, No Reservations), and was thrilled to hear I would be getting a bang for my buck with him in tow. He and Anthony Bourdain have been friends for a long time, according to both of them, and I figured it would be interesting to see them talk, since they could not be more opposite from one another. Tony is your typical potty-mouthed, drinking, smoking (well, he quit recently), hard-living chef, and Eric is more reserved, polite, and far from in-your-face about anything.

They did not disappoint! They quizzed each other on things, they talked about things relevant to the culinary world that would probably bore most people, and it was all wildly entertaining. Once they opened up the floor to questions, Aaron and I couldn't take it for too long, and ducked out. There are few things worse than listening to people try to sound more intelligent than they actually are, and the douche-baggery that spews from them as they try to impress a couple of famous chefs. I'm pretty sure some of these folks really believed they might befriend one or both of these men, simply because they live in a town where the term "foodie" gets tossed around way too often, and they know what foie gras is. But, overall, it was a magnificent night, and I'm so glad I got to see Anthony Bourdain one more time.

Next, and possibly the most exciting thing to happen since Christmas -- we took the plunge and booked our next cruise. I am so flippin' excited, I can hardly stand it. Now, since we know we need the time to get our money saved up, we booked it for *next* spring break. What does that mean? Oh yes, let the countdown begin.

Thankfully, we got our tax return back pretty quickly, and then we called Royal Caribbean the same day - it was a beautiful thing. We will be heading back to the Western Caribbean, and we are sincerely hoping we get to actually see Jamaica this go round. We are so stoked that we can finally have something to look forward to, even if it is a year away. The way I see it, we started counting down at 420 days with the Alaskan cruise, so at least we've got less to endure this time.

Tomorrow - hospital trip #2. And hopefully the LAST for a while!

Catching up list, continued.

Busy weekend, spent most of it at Central Market. That meant the little time at home was not spent blogging, but rather, enjoying my boys and sleeping. Lets pick up where we left off, shall we?

January 23, 2012 marked the day that would have been my dog's 15th birthday. Depsite being aware that he had a really good run having lived until he was 14, his would've-been birthday still hit me like a ton of bricks.

To be honest, I really didn't see this coming. I started the day like any other day, then got my first Facebook message filled with well-wishes and concern for my state of mind as I faced his first birthday since he died. Then, I talked to my Dad, my Mom, and my best friend all within a two-hour span of time, which had me a blubbery mess by the end of it all. Everyone was so sweet & thoughtful, sending me nothing but good vibes and virtual hugs to get me through the day, but once that conversation took place, it's like the flood-gates opened. There was no stopping the steady flow of tears for him and how I had spent every January 23 for the prior 14 years gathering special treats for his day -- rotisserie chicken or tuna, a piece of cake, and vanilla Blue Bell ice cream (to name a few). I pulled myself together after the morning passed, but only to then fall apart all over again before bedtime. I hadn't cried like that for him probably since the days after his death. It was cathartic, but difficult. My son accidentally saw me mid-bawling, because he got out of bed to go to the bathroom around 10:30pm. I was on the computer looking at old pictures of my beloved, crazy pooch, and Z asked what was wrong. I told him I just missed my dog, and he gently came over, placed his small arms around my neck and pulled me close, then whispered, "me too, Mom. Me too." He sweetly kissed my head after letting me cry on him for a few minutes, told me he'd see me in the morning & that he loved me, then quietly went back to bed. It was like God felt sorry for me, so he sent my little angel in to give me some comfort, and I'll never forget that tender moment with my boy as long as I live. As for moving on & getting another dog, my head knows I will bond with another dog again someday, but my heart is still stuck in the place that I'll never have that kind of connection with another animal ever again. Or maybe I just feel guilty about that happening. Almost like I'm feeling some weird sense of betrayal if I open my heart up to another creature the way I did to him. As I type that, I'm aware it sounds so silly, but in the sad, darker moments when I'm missing him, it seems to make sense. I don't know. I do believe, though, this is what they call the grieving process - and I'm wading my through day by day. Hard to believe that in roughly 42 days, he'll have been gone a year. Time sure does fly.

Tomorrow, Anthony Bourdain and cruising. (Thank you God, for both ...)

Catching up - parts III, IV, & V

Ack! Fell down on the job, sorry about that. This week has been a very busy one between both jobs, so I've had about zero time the past three days to post. I shall catch up with three more updates now.

1) So, the dog. {sigh} Aaron and I were browsing adoptable pet websites one night because our son reminds us weekly how long Elijah has been gone, and how he is still without a puppy. Yes, some of them were super cute, but none of them spoke to me ... until I saw her.

There was something about that goofy, adorable face that grabbed me and tugged at my heartstrings a little bit. That night we went to bed, and I found myself thinking of her, and looking at her online again. The next day, I looked at her several more times, until I finally broke down and contacted the shelter who houses her. A woman called me back and we talked at great length about this little furry girl, her personality, who we are, etc. During that conversation I found out that she has been at that shelter her entire life (she is now roughly 18 months old). She and a few litter mates were brought in as pups, and have grown up there. Initially, I immediately humanized her and thought how awful it was to essentially be in foster care without loving parents her entire existence. Then, the day after I talked to the woman from the shelter, it dawned on me that it wasn't all sad, because the workers there were good people. They have interacted with her and bonded with her, which then made me realize that that is all she has ever known. As sad as I find that environment, she's never been mistreated or abused, she's just never been adopted. The lady remarked about how comfortable she is there, and how good her disposition is, which are all good things, but I was starting to wonder how we could get her to acclimate to a new environment on our time schedule. Basically, since the holidays had just happened, neither one of us could take a week off to spend with her if we brought her home. We would be plucking her out of the only environment she has ever known, what she has known as safe, and thrusting her into a house with three strange humans and two even stranger cats. How unfair of us would it be to do that? Could we be available enough for her to make a not-so-terrifying transition? Probably not. We would have to bring her home, and then still go to work and school each day, leaving her here alone to adjust. And that felt wrong.

The woman from the shelter told us to take weekend and talk it over, and she emailed the following Monday to see if we had any further questions. I definitely wanted to get her thoughts on my concerns, and see if she had any brilliant advice or insight into the transition. Was I making a big deal out of nothing? Didn't want to read into things too much, but couldn't help but think of things from the dog's point of view. I wrote a very concise, inquisitive email, and got zero response back. It's almost like because I had concerns, and the dog wasn't going to be adopted that same day, she didn't have any patience for me anymore. Still to this day, I have never heard back from that woman, and now, it makes me glad we didn't adopt from them. If that is how she gets when people are really considering the situation, and needing to weigh out what might be coming down the line, then I really don't want to have anything to do with her. I was definitely irritated that I was dismissed so abruptly, but I just went with the flow. Everything happens for a reason, and I actually had relief set in once I knew this wasn't going to happen. The thought of having a dog, having to house train (this dog was not house trained, because she had lived her entire life at this shelter), having to be home if I don't want to be, having to make arrangements if we want to travel ... all of that sounded like a chore to me, not fun. I don't get excited at the thought of a new dog yet, it just sounds frustrating and annoying. I know my urge to mother a fur baby will return, but I'm simply not there yet. I'll know it when I am.

2) The car: I finally was able to unload that piece of crap Focus I was driving! There is a God! It started trying to overheat on a daily basis while I was in the drive-up line at Z's school, and I snapped one day. Couldn't take one more minute of driving with the uncertainty of whether or not I'd actually make it home. I emailed Carmax, told them they sold it to me, and now I wanted them to get me out of it & into something more reliable -- and that's exactly what they did. Even though I still owed $3k on that hunk o' junk, they gave me $2k for it, and rolled the remainder into my new loan. Payments only went up $58 a month, and in turn, I am the proud new owner of a 2007 Ford Fusion. It came with only 25k miles on it, and drives like a dream.

They also gave me 3 months of Sirius satellite radio for free, which is pretty cool. Not cool enough to pay $15/month for it once my free time is up, but pretty cool nonetheless. Of course, I flip between the 80's station, the smooth jazz station, and the 40's station.

It's like they know when I'm listening. {smiling ear to ear}

3) The door: We had a bit of random bad luck that turned into good fortune. One night, Z and I were sitting together on the sofa, reading a book, and this gigantic, horrible, heavy noise seemed to rattle our back door. It wasn't a thud, nor was it a bang, it was just a strange, huge sound I had never heard before. Turns out, our backyard neighbors have a young son who was up on their deck shooting his BB gun. He said he was aiming at a bird, but clearly, he's a shitty shot. He nailed the window on our back door, instead.

The point of impact.

Shattered all the way down.

And all the way up.

Thankfully, this family didn't act like jerks about it, and they offered to replace the door and pay for the new one to be installed. Crappy random accident, yes, but we desperately needed a new back door because of the 11 years worth of drooling and scratching that Elijah did to it. Now, I was getting that replacement door free of charge. Yessssssss. The new door gets installed next week. Awesome.

Off now to enjoy my night off. Tomorrow? Elijah's birthday. Boy, that was tough.

Catching up, part II

On New Year's Eve, we celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary (yay us!),

but that day I also started a second job. Yes, I recently acquired a part-time job, and I am happy to say I was able to get one at a place that I ♥love♥. I am now a proud "partner" at Central Market!

We needed a few extra bucks to get the bills paid lately, so I wanted Aaron to stay focused on his schooling and I volunteered to get a second job. I only do about 16-20 hours a week, and it works out perfectly. Very laid back, very friendly co-workers, and I get to be surrounded by FOOD! *happy dance* To top it off, there's usually stuff like this on in the breakroom:

And I get to snack on stuff like this, if I want to:

It's a beautiful thing, I say. Going to Central Market has always been a treat for me, and I've tortured my husband and son by taking them there and getting lost in aisles upon aisles of eccentric, exciting, amazing nourishment. Now, I get to help other people experience all the goodness of this place, and I get a nifty discount. Wurd.

I actually have to change and get ready to go there now, so that's all for today. Tomorrow though, I'll talk about how we almost adopted a dog a few weeks ago. And how I'm sorta glad we didn't, after all.

First post of 2012 ... in late February.

I guess I jinxed myself with that last post. Of course, because I made a point to state that I'm jazzed up about posting more, my life imploded. Not in a bad way, but things definitely got kicked up a notch. Here's a short list of things that have taken place since December 18:

1. Christmas/hospital trip #1

2. Our anniversary
3. Second job
4. Almost adopted a dog
5. New car
6. Back door shot up by a bibi gun
7. My dead dog's first birthday since he left - boo hooooo
8. Anthony Bourdain
9. Planning a new cruise - finally
10. Hospital trip #2

I think I figured out the best way to summarize everything is to break it up into daily entries. Writing about everything in one post would make for a lengthy entry, and who has that kind of time? Therefore, I'll take each event one-at-a-time, and it'll hold me accountable for blogging more consistently. At least for the next week or so.

Grab a cup of coffee, sit down & let's chat.

As excited as I was about Christmas, and everyone coming to our house this year for the big Christmas feast, things did not turn out exactly as I had hoped. I was woken up around 5:00am Christmas morning, not by Santa or reindeer hooves on the roof, but by sharp pains in my abdomen. It felt almost crampy, but very intense. I took a lot of deep breaths, the pain subsided, and I fell back asleep until Z came bounding in our room to wake us up & open presents (roughly 7:00am). After being up for a little while, and watching Z open all his loot, the pain returned & lingered this time. We began our busy day anyway ... Aaron cleaned the house, scrubbed the floors, and dusted, while I started the turkey, as well as all the prep work for desserts & side dishes. Around 11:00am, the pain was becoming more & more intolerable, and I told the boys I needed to go lay down for a while. I was unsure what this pain was, but I was certain it was becoming more intense, and laying down was the only instinctual idea I had to make myself feel better. Laying down did seem to ease things a little, but I was still very uncomfortable and could only lay there about an hour. The culinary pressures of the day were starting to eat at me, so I got back up and attempted to continue cooking, only to find I couldn't really stand much anymore. The pain was pretty incredible, and sitting was the only way I could get anything done. My family began to trickle in around this time, and it was decided by a unanimous vote that I did not look well. My Mom finally stepped in when she saw me attempting to simmer homemade cranberry sauce and baste the turkey, all the while, looking like The Hunchback of Notre Dame by the stove. She took me into my bedroom to do some triage, and started pressing on my stomach. When she pushed on the right side of my gut, I almost went through the ceiling, and she immediately insisted I have my sister take me to the ER. What?! On CHRISTMAS DAY?!! Hell no, I said! I was sure it would eventually pass, and was being defiant, at best. She let me know it was either my ovary or my appendix, neither of which should be ignored, so I didn't have much choice. Very reluctantly, and choking back tears of pissed-off-ness and frustration, I waved goodbye to my entire family and went to the ER.

Turns out, a cyst on my right ovary ruptured. Nice timing. The bitch of this is that I had *just* gone for a follow-up ultrasound to check on that same ovary two days before Christmas, because it had been acting up for months prior.

I was diagnosed with poly-cystic ovaries (PCOS) in 2010, but really hadn't had anything go "wrong". At my annual ultrasound in October 2011, they were looking at my PCOS, but instead found something ugly. My right ovary had a septated cyst, and they were concerned, so they asked me to wait six weeks and have another ultrasound done. Their initial concern freaked me out, and I began researching septated cysts on the internet like a mad woman -- ya know, the one thing you should NEVER do. What I found and read haunted me, and I walked around for six weeks wondering if I was about to be told I had cancer. Septated cysts very often turn into cancer, which is why they wanted me back to check it again. Thankfully, I dodged the cancer bullet, but what *was* there turned out to be a beast and exploded. At the follow-up ultrasound, the cyst that ruptured is clearly visible, but I had the ultrasound done on December 23, and apparently every radiologist in Austin was off for the holiday, so my films had not been seen yet by the time Christmas morning came around. My gyno told me afterward that had anyone read my films, they could've at least told me this was coming. There wouldn't have been anything they could do to stop it, but I would've gotten a heads-up about what might be taking place inside my body, and that I might end up needing help for pain. But all's well that ends well, and I was glad to rule out cancer and rule out my appendix rupturing, which was their first guess when I checked into the ER. (That would've bought me surgery on Christmas night, and just having to BE there was bad enough.) My family all came up to the hospital that night after they so kindly ate the food I had been slaving over in agony, and we had our own little celebration up there in room 10.

I was reminded that night how fabulous my family is, and how lucky I am. That night, I was also introduced to the magical liquid injection known as Dilaudid. This is the King of narcotics, the end all-be all of feeling amaaaaaaaaaaazing. Pain? What pain? I didn't even know I had ovaries anymore after they gave me this stuff. There's nothing quite like spending Christmas night high on pain killers, but I'm glad it wasn't because the holidays were stressful and my family drove me to do so. (Well, they did literally, but you know what I mean.) My parents said they wonder how we're ever going to top Christmas 2011, but I'm shooting for the most traditional, boring, mundane version of Christmas that I can put together this year. I'm always in favor of shaking things up a bit, but not quite like this. One round of ovary explosion is enough for me.

Tomorrow, news about our anniversary, and my recently acquired second job, at a place I love. My lucky streak continues ... where, you ask? Here's a hint: