Loving://: The fact Kh just came
into the room with another beer, handed it to me and said “This is your 4th,
just so you know.” Ok, so she’s not lying, I have been drinking for the past 3
hours, but it’s not like I’m doing keg stands in my living room. And I’m pretty
much in my pajamas..
Also.. It’s Corona Light. I’m not
going all 4 Guinness deep here.
Other things I'm loving: my new shirt from Flunklife on Etsy. Leftover Christmas money spending sprees. Beating that level on Candy Crush I've been stuck on for weeks. Late afternoon naps. Honey mustard curry shrimp I made for dinner.
Not Loving So Much ://:The
constant construction in the apartment below me is causing all the dust, paint
fumes, and anything else that’s happening down there to get blown right up my
heating vents into my apartment. It’s leaving a never-ending layer of dust on
everything. I do mean absolutely everything. It’s driving me insane. And slowly
causing my sinus issues to come back. For shits sake, enough.
Hating ://: Winter. Quite
seriously. My seasonal depression is kicking in full swing. I hate the giant
mounds of ever blackening snow, the slushy ice on the sidewalks that NO ONE
seems to want to take responsibility for clearing away, and the never ending
trail of salt that’s been tracked into my house.
Not to mention the fact I don’t
ever want to leave my house once I’m inside. Going out to dinner? That means I
have to find parking and walk out in this sludge again. No thanks. Goodbye any social life I may have been cultivating in the fall.
Other things on this list: people that call dibs on parking spots they never cleared in the first place. Dealing with clients. The Walking Dead season 4 not being FREE yet.
Crop tops.
Oh.. and flower crowns. Because..
why?
Looking Forward To ://: My birthday’s
next month, and while I really can’t stand my birthday, I’m planning on having
a get together where some of my favorite people will hopefully come out for it.
The most important of which is my bf from NYC.
My newest etsy orders of customized perfumes to get here.
I’m also really looking forward to
bed, apparently.
I'm pretty much the worst when it comes to Valentines Day.
I always try and talk Kh out of
doing something for Valentines Day. It’s a bunch of confectionery sugar loaded crap in a heart
shaped pattern. I’ve never been a big fan of it, so I’d rather gift her
chocolate and love her every day of the year, except yesterday. She gets a
disappointed look on her face and I feel like a jerk.
So we end up celebrating it. This
year she nailed it, and will probably never be able to outdo herself. She got
me a crystal ball, complete with a small wooden stand. It’s legit, and I’m
obsessed. I couldn’t get a good picture of it so use your imagination.
We went to see Mortified with a
couple of friends, and then went to our favorite local bar. It was low key and
I was home by midnight.
At least today we stopped by the store and grabbed some after Valentines Day candy. Although they were completely out of heart shaped Reese's..
Three of those things didn't even make it until 8pm tonight.
Earlier in the week I was put in
charge of making an appointment for my best friends little sister to get her
first tattoo. I, naturally, took them to my tattoo artist. I’m not a big fan of
traveling in packs to things like that, and between all of us there were 4
girls. My limit is generally one or flying solo. But it was a good time. My
artist took great care of them, and I got to finally make my next appointment
while we were there.
Afterwards we went out to eat, so
it was pretty much the most eventful thing that happened to me all week. Last
night not included.
Generally my life's been uneventful and not even remotely worthy of reporting on. Aside from work, work and a bit more work it’s been snowing like a
bastard here lately. We get at least one-two snowstorms a week, and it feels
like Winter is never-ending.
I once mentioned how I’ve never
been one of those girls that can pull off the elements very well. And eh lately
isn’t an exception. I generally don’t even try to do my hair unless I’m not
working.
As I type this we’re getting pummeled
with another snowstorm, and I’m really excited to be snowed in for another day.
I get to try out a different pajama ensemble, break in a new spot on my couch,
and find new excuses as to why I should fill my time with work.
Summer has (what
feels like) finally ended here. The past 2 days it’s been in the 60’s, and
we’re talking about going apple picking this weekend. I’m pretty fucking happy
summer is done with. Call me a bad person, but I hate summer.
A couple of weekends
ago we took an overnight trip to CT to do some antiquing. Kh is from CT, so we
just crash at her moms’ house. Which is always an adventure. They have a
gigantic German Shepard who I'm sure would love to eat my face (no, really,
he's scary), and her mom always has to fill us in on what's happened every day
since last we saw her. This time I had just gotten a new tattoo, so throw in a
few back handed comments about a new tattoo and why'd I'd want to do that and
you have a fun filled night.
But the antiquing
part was fun.
The one thing I wanted more than anything, but Kh refuses to let me have one in the house. She's such a party pooper! I just want to talk to Captain Howdy, is that so wrong?
My goodie haul for the trip. I got it all at one antique shop, even though we went to four.
:: one :: fish eye mirror with an eagle on top of it :: two :: vintage doilies, and old clothe napkins :: three :: a big plastic baggy filled with old photographs
:: four :: a repainted vintage tray
We have big plans of building a blanket fort tonight, making a cheese and cracker plate, grabbing some wine and going through the bag of old photos. I'm hoping to sleep in the blanket fort and have coffee in it tomorrow morning.
My favorite find by far? This. An antique hourglass.
Ok, ok. Yesterday morning I sat
down with my coffee fully prepared to disclose my weekend adventures, when I
just lost interest and got sucked into work. Work that I really should have
been working on weeks ago, but lost interest in that as well.
I’ve been going through a bit of a
rut for a while now. Issues in my relationship, feeling not whole as a person,
and combating with what feels right to continue with in my life. So, naturally
I did what I always do when I feel bogged down and lost, I got in a car (a
rental, my car would have fallen apart 20 miles into the adventure) and drove
back to New York. I can’t remember the last time I visited with my family, and
the day before it was my mom’s birthday. Off I went!
I had almost completely forgotten
how recharging it is to me to drive for miles on end. To open the windows, sing
along to songs on the radio, and lose myself in the journey.
I planned it so my brother drove up
from where he lives as well to surprise my mom. It’s usually my way of doing
things, I tell very few people I’m coming into town and surprise my family. It
worked. We had dinner and general tomfoolery that comes with getting together. I
spent just enough time with them to qualify it as quality time, but not enough
to drive me crazy.
Later that night I went to see one
of my (used to be) closest friends. I hadn’t seen him in 3 ½ years. We had a
huge falling out, which took years to mend. We went out for a few drinks and
tried to catch up as best we could. It was heart wrenching, and I’m still
working out the feeling of what we had lost that can’t quite be fixed. It’s
never easy to realize a close friendship is broken.
On the drive back home I
multi-tasked between crying, singing along to 90’s pop songs, and indulging in
fast food French fries.
Monday night turned into a long
relationship talk with the girlfriend. I’m still reeling from all the
emotional exhaustion I’ve felt for the past few days, and mostly just want to
keep myself busy so I don’t think about any of it. I'm terrible when it comes to letting emotions sink in. I even ordered checks
yesterday. Checks, like from a bank. From a miserable woman that couldn’t stop chewing on her mouth,
might I add.
I’m trying to move towards the
beginning of August with a new found sense of clarity and realization. Trying to
find my footing, and push forward in my goals, not letting anything get in my
way while also finding the right decision on matters that may be hard.
In a slightly lighthearted turn of
events, I’ve scheduled my next tattoo appointment tomorrow. I’ve already been
plunged headfirst into work, and need to really start prioritizing what keeps
me sane. Going 8 weeks between having a full day off is not one of those
things.
I have been absolutely dying to
talk about this. Dying!
In May I started making plans to have
a surprise birthday for Kh. I made party reservations at our favorite local
bar, got in touch with her friends, and started stockpiling gifts on the sly.
She had a crazy work event that took up the time around her birthday, so we had it this past Saturday. Finally! Talk about stressful, holding back big plans like that. I was a nervous wreck the past few weeks in anticipation.
Saturday we spent the whole day
hanging out with one of my clients while they unloaded their moving van. He’s a
150lb St. Bernard, that just so happens he can’t go up stairs. I live on the second floor of my apartment.. so we took a long walk around a pond,
then sat in a park and had some lunch with him.
The party happened on Saturday
night, and it went so well. I can finally relax. We had friends
come in from out of town, including my best friend who came in from NYC. She
spent all day with us and Kh had no idea she was here for her party. Phew, that
takes some skill!
I barely got any photos; I was to
busy mingling and enjoying the night. Kh’s good friend made nutella frosting
cupcakes, and gluten free brownies. So amazing!
Sunday we went out for brunch. We
didn’t plan very properly and it took somewhere close to 2hours before we
actually ate. That’s pretty typical of The Friendly Toast on a weekend. I had all the beverages ever, including a mimosa made out of grapefruit juice instead of oj. It was delicious! I also tried my first bloody mary, spicy!
While waiting for our food we saw a
giant poof of flame shoot out of the kitchen. Apparently a can of something or another
got to close to the grill and exploded. We were too comatose with hunger to
really care and just stared at the smoke in the room.
After what turned into
lunch we laid around the apartment napping. I had a couple of clients staying
over so it was small dog city in my apartment.
I got Kh a few wet taxidermy specimens for her bday. A squid head, leeches, and rat feet(which aren't pictured).
Now it's back to work. It was over 90degrees today, and I was quite sure I was dying. I got to take the worlds second longest nap, made hot dogs on the grill, and painted sugar skulls for a few hours.
I was 20, on the cusp of 21 when my
roommates and I decided we wanted to get an apartment dog.
I spent months obsessing over what
kind of dog, and even longer trying to find one. I came across a family that
wasn’t very well off whose Chihuahua had a litter of puppies. I started
emailing with the family and soon received pictures of what was soon to be our
dog. My dog.
In the first photo I ever saw of
her, she looked like a rat. A bug eyed rat the size of a remote control. No.
Smaller than a tv remote control.
I met the family in a Target
parking lot and handedover $150,
$50 more than the price they wanted for her, and $350 less than the original
price they were asking for her.
I brought her home with me. She
slept in my bed, peed all over my floor, and quickly weaseled her way into my
heart.
She’s 6 ½ now and has been by my
side through many of lifes journeys. She has seen my ups, my downs, and
everything that’s been in-between.
The Wednesday before Easter weekend
we noticed she had a slight wheezing cough. We took her to the vet and after
Xrays, and bloodwork they found nothing wrong with her. Except her usual
issues. A heart murmur that may have intensified, her degenerative back issues,
cherry eye, and slipped discs in her knee caps.. Generally she’s a gigantic
mess.
We take her home and the next day
make an appointment with a cardiologist for the following week. Thursday night
she gets worse, and by Friday we’re taking her to the ER for pets. They
immediately rush her to the ICU and put her in an oxygen cage, and find fluid
in her lungs with an Xray. She’s put on a lasik drip and everything seems like
a hazy dream.
Kh and I leave the ER, unable to
really speak and drive back home.
I climb into the shower in the dark
and cry for half an hour.
We begin the waiting game.
Later that night I get a phone
call, she’s responding well but still in critical condition.
I couldn’t cry anymore. If my eyes
stay open, they’re in a permanent squint. I take a sleeping pill and try to sleep.
I get a phone call at 6am. She’s
doing better. Still on lasik. Still getting oxygen.
I get another phone call around 11.
Same thing. More waiting. They ask if I want to visit her and bring her food.
We get ready and head up to see
her.
I try my hardest not to cry when I
see her get excited at the sight of us. She rushes to the front of the oxygen
cage, an IV in her left leg wrapped in a gauze. A nitro paste taped to her
right ear.
I get it together and choke back my
tears. We stay with her for 20 minutes and feed her. She gets sick of us doting
on her and starts to give me that “alright, enough already” look. We leave and
get a stiff drink at a chain restaurant down the street.
We go home. I put on my pajamas and
take up my ever vigilant mope on the couch. I have a few drinks. I take a sleeping pill.
We wait some more.
Easter comes and we aren’t
interested. I get a phone call at 6am again.
Kh’s parents come up and have lunch
with us. It feels good to try and distract myself. Kh’s mother awkwardly tries
to divert the conversation and ends up going right to how she’s doing and when
we can see her again.
I keep my phone in my hand every
minute, not wanting to miss a phone call with an update.
It finally comes, right when I’m
finishing my 2nd glass of wine. I run up the 2 flights of stairs to
make it outside in time to answer the phone call. She’s stabilized; her heart
rate is down, fluid in her lungs is gone, and is well enough to be discharged.
I choke back tears and put on my
game face to finish up lunch.
We pick her up at the ICU. She
sleeps the rest of the night and I cry any time I look at her for the next 2
days.
Tuesday morning I take her to her
cardiologist appointment that we just so happened to have kept from the week
before. I cry the whole way there. I cry the whole way home.
I keep it together long enough to
get to see her Xrays. Her tiny little rib cage. Her heart. I get to see her
echocardiogram and try not to cry when he shows me the valve that isn’t working
the way it should be.
She’s given her diagnosis. Chronic
valvular disease. She had congestive heart failure and her heart murmur had
worsened. She’s on the less complicated side of things. No liver or kidney
failure or even signs of failure. She’s put on 3 different medications. She has
to take twice a day. Indefinitely.
Her cardiologist tells me the
general survival rate is 12-18 months after the initial congestive heart
failure, but he has patients that are 2x past that and are healthy and doing
well.
I cry the whole way home. I cry the
next 3 days when no one is around, and lets face it, I’m always alone unless Kh
is home.
Friday night we finally go out. We
go out and drink and try to take a weight off our shoulders.
We start to notice a difference in
her. Her energy is back. She’s playing with her toys. She’s humping her bedding
and bringing me her favorite (albeit completely falling apart) favorite toy.
We take her to her follow up
cardiologist appointment this past Tuesday. He says everything sounds good and
she’s looking much better. We get her bodywork back, everything’s normal. No
signs of kidney or liver failure which is our big concern.
I’m relieved and only tear up once.
That brings us to now. I try not to
think about it. How terrifying it was, and how I don’t really know how much
longer I have with her. I don’t know what my future would look like without her
in it. She’s so much apart of me, I believe a part of me will die with her.
I got sick of hearing people say "Pets suck" and "oh that's tough." I'm not one for words of empathy when it's hollow and forced. Out of all the pain I've felt in this life of mine, this has been some of the worst.
I’m trying not to dwell on it. She’s
here with me now. And that’s all that matters. Taking a break from worrying
about what my weekends looked like, or getting caught up on what someone else
wore during a week is the last of my concerns. Blogland, some times you need a
reality check. Life isn’t really about how you’re decorating your living room or
what you liked most on pinterest.
Real life lies outside these cyber
walls, and I’ve been a bit too consumed with it.
I shaved my legs for my birthday.
That was a pretty big step for me.
For the first time in years I had a
surprisingly good birthday. My best friend came in from NYC and my other bestie was up from Florida.
I got my hair done. We went out to
eat.
I made Kh and my bestie get Friendly's sundaes with me.
We played Cards Against Humanity.
Ate cheese and crackers, and veggies. Drank too much wine, and stayed up to
late. I'm glad I had on waterproof mascara. I haven't laughed that hard in a very long time.
Flat Stanley got to hang out in my boobs and party with the veggies.
I bought myself ankle boots with skulls on them. I'm pretty much in love with them.
I got some amazing gifts. Porcupine quill earrings and a silver shark tooth necklace from Kh, and my bestie got me a necklace with dandelion seeds in it.
Thus far 27 has been interesting. I've had some terrible lows, and some mid-level times. Business is so busy I haven't had a full day off in over a month, which I can't complain about. But I am feeling burnt out, tired. Some days I just want everything to be on mute so I can be alone in my own thoughts. Separate my feelings, compartmentalize everything.
Some days the energy just isn't there.
This is what 27 looks like on me. And one of my new dresses I bought for Mexico. Vacation can't come soon enough.
I shower with the lights off and the door wide open. I sing
and dance when cooking dinner, with four wide eyes staring at me hoping I drop
a piece. I fill my wine glass past the half way mark, and won’t pour more in
until I’ve finished it all. I think it’s bad luck. I can never have my back to
a crowded room; it goes double in a restaurant. I love to laugh but smiling
takes effort. I pretend I’m the invisible woman when grocery shopping and buy
to many boxes of mac and cheese. I like to have sex in the morning and don’t
care if my neighbors hear. I hate wearing jeans but will on occasion, mostly
when I know I don’t have to wear them for longer than 2 hours. I can’t stand people telling me what to
do, and will do the complete opposite to prove that you can’t dictate my life. I
underestimate how big my boobs are every time I try on a new shirt. I could eat
sushi for every meal, and I’m really too sarcastic for my own good. I’m a
natural red head, who bites her nails if she doesn’t have nail polish on them.
I’m obsessed with efficiency but I’m always late.
I am my own woman.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
My birthday is in seven days. It
seems like it’s really speeding towards me this year, palm open and ready to
slap me across the face. Last year I turned 26, and I wasn’t dreading it so
much as I am this year.
It’s not the getting older thing
that bothers me. It’s the odd number thing. 27 just doesn’t have a very nice
sound to it.
“Oh yeah, cool, I’m 27.” Said no one ever.
Pffft.
I’ve never really been one for
celebrating my birthday. It was usually just an occasion for someone to make me
feel terrible, and sink me into a dark depression for at least a week.
As a kid, I used to hide under the
table when everyone would try to sing Happy Birthday to me. Or worse, when
everyone’s attention was drawn to me to unwrap all the gifts. What if I got a
shitty gift? I’d have to hide the shattering of my little child heart and
pretend like I was oh so happy to receive pink fuzzy socks. That hasn’t really
changed in adulthood. I hate opening presents in front of people.
I don’t like being the center of
attention, I’m more of an avid onlooker that sits back and takes it all in.
Forming a good story or silently judging the idiots making fools of themselves.
The only time in my life I started to
really enjoy my birthday was when I started dating Kh. I’ve had 2 birthdays
with her, and each year she makes them pretty great. I get sucked into some
kind of birthday obligation that involves hanging out with friends that make me
feel miserable the day of my birthday, and Kh always plans a “make up
birthday”, the day after. It usually just involves me doing whatever I want and
her supporting me with my decision. If I wanted to lie in bed eating ice cream
cake and watching Harry Potter all day, she’d be there to change DVDs for me.
True love, that shits for real.
I’m hoping this is the one birthday
that afterwards I wake up and feel like an adult on. When I turned 20, I
thought 21 would bring a newfound clarity on adulthood and life. When I turned
25, I thought it would be 26. And so on.
Well. Perhaps this is the birthday when
others start thinking I’m an adult.
While I know it’s not your age that
determines adulthood, I’m still waiting for that “a-ha!” moment. I mean, I’m ok
with going on with life always feeling like I’m 21. I’d say 16 but I need to be
able to legally drink in my own mind, right? And these lines on my face weren't there when I was 16.
And my butt wasn't quite as wide as it is now.
And my boobs weren't nearly this awesome.
I'm sure I'll have more birthday posts this week. For now, shhh.. it's not this close..
One. My birthday to quietly walk across
the stage, bow, and exit without making a big scene. Or hopefully without
flipping me off too.
Two. The sun to stay out past 6pm,
and to peak its bright ass head out for more than one day during the week. Can
I get rid of this seasonal depression already?
Three. Grow hair, grow.
Four. Day trips to eat my favorite
cheese platter. Yes, I’d drive 30 minutes to eat a plate of cheese. Maybe even two plates. Mama loves her cheeseeee.
Five. I’d like to sleep in until at
least 10am one of these days. My month would be complete if I could spend the
rest of that day napping too.
Six. A day off would be amazing. I
haven’t had one yet, so give a girl a break.
Seven. The first season of Once Upon
A Time to get out of my system. You suck, but I can’t get enough of you knowing
there’s always one more I can watch.
Eight. My wine to stop running out.
An every other day run to the liquor store is making me look like I have a
problem.
Nine. My grandma, and mom to send
me my Christmas presents. If they want to save time and send my birthday
presents with them, that’d be great too.
Ten. I want to pet a goat. Maybe
even a pig too. Even if goats can be assholes and pigs feel weird.
I've been drinking too much beer lately, knowing full well I shouldn't. My hair is unruly and creating it's own rules. Winter is eating my soul alive, and I can only sit back and watch it dine. I'm to tired to put on real clothes, I live out of my car and find my personal time only exists in the morning. I'm having a hard time saying no, but desperately need a date night with my Kh. I'm thinking to much, and saying to little. Running on empty but always feeling too full. March is always a strange month for me.
It’s always important to blog about
something of content. Something of substance. Something people can relate to.
Right? Pfft.. Well, that’s why I’m going to tell you all about how upset I am with my
favorite pair of boots dying on me.
Oh, my dear boots. I purchased you
for less than $20 at Burlington Coat Factory 2 years ago. I was unsure about
you. Your slouchy, ill-fitting tops hit awkwardly on my calves. My legs looked
short and stumpy in you, and I’ll admit I didn’t love you right away.
I put you in my closet. On the bottom,
buried under my other black boots. Collecting dust, and slowly being forgotten.
I’m sorry for so much lost time. I’m sorry I neglected your needs and want to
be worn and used like any other boot.
One day, I put my feet in you while
in a rush to leave the house. You were there for me, and you felt so right with
me in you. You brought my otherwise sloppy outfit together, making it look like
I tried, when everyone knows I didn’t. Oh, how I hate not trying when leaving
the house.
You went with me on shopping trips,
and trips to the grocery store. You were there waiting when I couldn’t be
bothered with a zipper or shoelaces.
The first signs of decay came when
my foot got wet while walking on the sidewalk. I knew our days were numbered.
Slowly, I felt more of a draft and a cold distancing between us. Today, your
sole shattered. There is no fixing what we had, no amount of googling for your
long lost twin will bring me satisfaction of wearing you again.
It’s going to take me at least 2
weeks to throw you away. Maybe, just maybe I’ll try to glue you back together
and hold on for just a bit longer.
