Thursday, May 28, 2015

New Stuff I Got Goin On

Well, I'd say that was quite a sabbatical!  I didn't know I'd be gone for so long.  It was an extended blog nap, I suppose.

To follow up with my last post......  we didn't get shit.

I shouldn't say that.  We did have some sort of progress but not in how we expected.

After the last meeting we discovered that Justin's lawyer was a moron.  I'm sure he had plenty of good qualities, but helping us was not one of them.  The least worrisome of his moronic behavior was his inability to call us back with information we needed..... until we fired him.  Then he knew our phone number really well!  He could dial those digits lickety-split.

Justin, the good egg that he is, didn't want to fire him.  He felt bad that this man put 5 years of work into our case and we were going to give him the boot.  But, as I told him, it was five SHITTY years of work.  He was horrible!  No one could believe that this case wasn't settled and at the last meeting, Justin was told that there were two more doctors that needed to give depositions and then....blah blah blah blah blah.  My theory?  "This jerk isn't going to be sending us Christmas Cards and checking in after this is over!  He's gonna take his cut and run.  He doesn't give a rat's ass about us.  Who cares about him?!"

We were directed to a different firm through this wonderful person at Allstate who helped me grow up and pay attention to my meager investments (I thought the money would do better if I just ignored it and let it do its thing....okay, so investment-wise I'm as much of a moron as that lawyer we fired).  Here's what happened next:

Lawyer called us back in 24 hours
They got all of the records from the moron lawyer
Shit is happening!   Be still my heart.

Who knows what's going to happen.  At this point, I've relegated myself to "financially screwed for eternity" until someone tells me that there's a position opening up in the "show me the money" department.   Keep your fingers crossed for us, 'kay?

Speaking of my husband.... you know how they say "You know who your true friends are when your life isn't going well?"  Well, he is a living testament to that statement.  Totally true story.

When I met him, he had a bunch of friends that he hung out with.  Some separately.  Some in a group.  Every time one of these people needed help.... like their tv broke, or their heat went at their business, or they wanted something he had that was super expensive so they asked if they could make payments and take it now.....he was there.  Need money?  He'd lend it.  I never had a friend give me a vehicle and let me pay them off.... whenever I could.  Those people did though!  He was a gem of a friend!

Do you know where those people are now that we don't have cash with spare to share?  Me neither.

I think about it and I'm disgusted by how friendly they were when they had their hands out, but once we were in a bad spot, NOT ONE OF THEM has called to see how he is or if he needed anything.  I shouldn't be surprised.  They're probably afraid he'd ask them for something, much like they did to him for years.  The sad part is that Justin feels bad about it.  The only good part is that it weeded them out.   I swear if we are ever in that financial position again, they will never see a red cent.  Bad bad bad karma!!

I'm done venting.  I really had no intention of going through all of that when I sat down here.

If anyone is on a tear with books and looking for some gooders to read, let me know!  I've been ripping thru them on audio since Christmas.  I've been working a lot and when I work a lot, I miss Allie.  And when I miss Allie, I get depressed.  And when I get depressed, I eat a lot of crap.  So, audio books distract me from how much I miss my little peanut, therefore I don't eat.

Speaking of books....

I'm writing one.

Oh yes indeed.  It's true.  Aren't I just fancy?

About 8 years ago, I was dating a guy who dumped my sorry ass.  I was pathetic.  I remember feeling like Monica from "Friends" when she and Richard broke up.

I was living by myself and I would drive the 5 blocks to my dad's house and sit and cry on his shoulder (literally!  he watched tv and I just cried.)

One night, as I sat with my head on Dad's shoulder and my big box of tissues on my lap, I realized I had two different shoes on.  I scanned upward and noticed that my sweatpants had a hole in the crotch and my flannel shirt was totally buttoned wrong.  To top it off, I hadn't even combed out my hair when I got out of the shower that morning.  I went into the bathroom, looked in the mirror and said to myself, "Self, you need to get a grip!"

I went to my therapist and he advised me to do two things..... pick up a hobby and move around whenever I started thinking about my now ex-boyfriend.

So, I did two things.  I took my dog for a walk every time I got weepy (he was the happiest he had ever been!) and I decided to write a book.  I know.... it's a big hobby, but I'm notorious for biting off more than I can potentially chew (literally AND figuratively, as now I also have TMJ)  I sat down and began to write.  And write.  And walk the dog.  And write.  I learned that when I'm miserable, I'm a committed writer!

Unfortunately, a few months later, my husband swept me off of my feet and I stopped writing.  I learned then that when I'm deliriously in love, I'm a crappy writer.

And so sat my little novel.  For eight years.

While listening to one of the audio books on tape a month ago

the rest of the story hit me like a ton of bricks right in the brain, right out of nowhere!  The book was sitting behind some door in my brain that was overlooked time and time again.  Suddenly, it burst through the door, ready to come out and be seen

And I gotta tell ya', writing a book is no easy task.  I thought it would be like blogging, but it's not!  There's a whole lot of prep work if you're serious about it.   And I'm serious.  The truth is that I've wanted to be a writer my whole life.  I was writing stories when I was a youngin'.  There are piles of them in notebooks in my mom's garage.  (Not mine, because ours is a complete disaster of hoarding proportions)

With that all being said, I must depart and get my silly self to bed.  The brain needs to recharge or I spend valuable time every day writing drivel that makes me angry when I proof read it later.  I will tend to my blog more often, because I still have lots of ridiculousness to report and insanity to complain about.  I need you.

Totally true story!

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Friday, January 16, 2015

Are We Finally Getting Our Due?

Happy New Year everyone!

I hope you all had wonderful holidays and an excellent start to the new year.

I am going to tackle 2015 like a champ, but you know, there are always those things that are out of our control.  I have a hard time dealing with them.  I like to have structure.  For instance, the torn meniscus, followed by the little auto accident, and rounding everything up by falling down the stairs in the dark this past week were definitely not structured into my daily agenda.  But we all gotta suck it up and moving on.  It can always be worse.

I started a gratitude journal too.  A five year sucker.  I want to maintain some positivity even if my day is in the crapper.  If you're looking to do something similar, you can get a great one here:  
It's nicely made, hardcover, small enough to put in a purse but big enough to write in.  I also found this little gem:

My favorite part about them?  Cheap!  Best gifts I gave myself for Christmas.

Speaking of gratitude, I've got a situation where I've had to search hard to find things to be grateful for.....but I'm still hoping.  I know they are there somewhere.  Sometimes you need to get out your PI hat and magnifying glass, but I'm sure they are there.  There is ALWAYS something.

As some of you may know, Justin and I have been dealing with his back injury for nearly 5 years.  It happened at work on Sept. 1st, 2009..... 18 days before our wedding.  Since then, our lives have changed.  A lot.  Five epidurals, two surgeries, massive amounts of narcotics and lingering pain tends to have an affect on one's life.  It also changes the lives of the people you live with.  
Our wedding day September 2009.
I was sick as a dog and he was flying high on pain medication but it was still one of the best days of my life!

The injury seems to control our lives and it likes to run the show.  No joke.  It's pretty badass.   We can have plans to take Allie to the playground and that day he can't walk the five minutes to get to the park.  I can take a little time off to spend with my family and that day he might be knocked out by a new medication.  Like I said, it's a badass injury.

For the first two years of Allie's life, Justin wasn't allowed to pick her up.  I would leave for work and had to make sure they were inside of a gated part of the living room so she couldn't run away.   I had my own little herd of humans waiting for me.  For the next two years of her life, Justin was allowed to try to pick her up but most of the time, he can't.

The limitations are endless.  His ego has takes a hit when he has to ask a GIRL from the pet store to put dog food bag in his car.  His pride has been shattered every time people question why he is unable to work.  He has immense guilt that I have to take every job I can .  His privacy was invaded as private investigators were sent to watch over us and see if he was faking his injury.  Yet he keeps pushing forward, hopeful that "things are gonna change soon."  Many people would've given up.
New scars to add to the old ones.  This was after the fusion in Nov 2012

 Through all of the changes, we adjusted!  Humans are resilient like that.  Granted, there were days where I cried, wondering why this happened to us.  There were moments when I wondered how we were going to manage.  But I really do believe that God/The Universe only gives you what you can handle.  And as for the shit you think you can't handle, He provides you with direction to help.

This week we went to our final medical exam after five years of this ridiculousness.   This is a real knee slapper (sarcasm).  See, apparently, the insurance company wants to be SURE that Justin is really injured.  Maybe he's a really good actor and is keeping this up so he can take all of the drugs that have wretched side effects?  Oh yes!  I'm sure many people would have their vertebrae fused for a good high!

Speaking of which, one day I got a good feel for what drugs they were giving him. When I gave birth to Allie, I had an epidural.  I looked up at the IV bag and saw that it was the same medication Justin took every day (and still does).  One of his pain medications was the same thing they give women who are giving birth to ease the pain.  That's some freaky stuff there! 

In March, the doctors and insurance people and lawyers will sit down and OFFICIALLY decide if Justin is really disabled.  It took this long for them to say "Okay.  We will stop giving all of our cashola to doctors and pharmaceutical peeps and maybe we will give you a little something... if there's any money left."  His medical procedures and medications have cost over $300,000.  That is some happy cash floating around the medical field!  I hope they put some aside for us little peeps.

Throughout the exam, I cried.  Not sobbing; just non-stop tears.  Five years of poking and prodding  Justin and then try to get him to do painful things, just to see if he's really injured.  It's been going on for years.   When is it going to be enough?  Well,  I think it's actually going to be soon.  I refuse to believe that there is no light at the end of this tunnel.  I will be especially grateful when we get there!

So, if you're a praying sort of person, I ask you to keep us in your prayers.  We want it to end and we're hopeful that the end is near.  Money isn't even the main reason why anymore.  Sure it would be NICE, but we both feel that he won't be getting much money, so we aren't counting on it.  We just want to live our lives without all of these professional people messing around with us.    

The truth is that despite the crappy moments, we've discovered that we are survivors.  We can make it through difficult moments and come out wiser and stronger.  I think we've proven to be more badass than the injury.   

I wish you all a HEALTHY 2015 full of things to be grateful for!

Saturday, December 6, 2014

Fondly Recalling "Mailbox Mauling" While Pregnant

It's that wonderful time of the year again...... snowfall, kids and dogs playing in snow, snuggling under a blanket with loved ones, desecration of mailboxes....

Ah, yes! Good times, my friends.  Good times.

That last one carries many fond memories for me.  Before 2010, I never really noticed mailboxes.  And if I happened to see one that had been mangled, I always felt bad for the people it belonged to.  

And then I got pregnant.  Everything changed.

I've always had a love for MAIL.  When I was little, I ordered the RCA Record of the Month and stalked my mailbox waiting for it to arrive each month.  At every business I worked at, with the exception of hair salons, I was the mail person.  I retrieved the mail, sorted mail, stamped mail, dropped mail off at the post office, created mailing lists, etc.  One place even had me  help with the designing of their mailbox/brick fixture.  And when I forget to get the mail at home, someone always seriously asks "Are you okay?"  I love mail.  I'm sure you're picking up on that now.

The last 1.5 months of my pregnancy, I couldn't sleep.  I contracted a nasty cold after Justin and I decided to take a trip to a casino for the weekend.   Between the cigarette smoke and the INSANE AMOUNT OF GERMS, I was sick within 24 hours.   

If I wasn't sitting at a  minimum of an 80 degree angle, I was coughing and choking.  Laying down was impossible.  My anxiety was out of control and I was afraid that if I fell asleep, I would choke to death.  I watched the sun rise almost every day, still awake from the night before.  I knew every show that was on from the minute I got into bed until 6am.    I got between 2.5 hours and 45 minutes of sleep each night.  And then I worked all day at my physical, outdoorsy job.  

Recipe for disaster, indeed!

That month before Allie was born was a doozie when I was behind the wheel.  We had three relatively new vehicles that I was able to drive.  I had some sort of collision with all three within a few weeks.

Being blonde, Justin and I never thought about the possibility that maybe I shouldn't drive after the accidents with the first two cars.  However, as I was driving his Corvette into another car, he yelled "STOP!  STOP!" and calmly extracted me from the vehicle.  He decided that I shouldn't drive myself that day.  (Interpretation: "You can trash the other two cars, but don't f*ck up the really nice one or I'll mess your pregnant shit up !")  To be completely fair, he was super nice to me and held my hand while I cried because I had blemished his precious vehicle.  I'm really really REALLY lucky.

Pregnant selfie taken shortly after the "Vette Incident of 2010"

Going back to the topic of mailboxes.....

We had a Toyota FJ Cruiser and it was primarily Justin's truck.  For some reason I had it that day and on my ride home, I panicked when I saw deer on the side of the road.  My reflexes were totally lagging, so somehow I managed to swerve and hit both the front and back (but not the middle) of the truck into a row of mailboxes.

I stopped and was completely shocked.  I got out of the truck and stared at the truck.....then the mailboxes.....then the truck again.  There was mail everywhere.  As I mentioned, it was a row of mailboxes.  Dead soldiers, all bent over and their guts were scattered all over the road.  

As a lover of mail, I did what any other postal devotee would do.  I immediately started picking up the mail.  My big pregnant butt was walking around, bent over, trying to get the mail before someone drove by and really ruined it!  I waddled as quickly as I could and collected it all, junk mail included. 

As a partially sane, sleep deprived person, the important thing to do finally clicked in and I called Justin.  

Justin: Hey honey.  (he always answers nicely like that)

Me:  I just had an accident.

Justin: What??

Me:  I saw a deer and I thought it was going to run in front of me and I swerved and I hit this row of mailboxes and fishtailed again and then I hit the rest of them!

Justin: Where ARE you????

Me: (I give him the address.  I can't tell you.  They might have been YOUR mailboxes for all I know!)

Justin: That's where the mailboxes are?  Where are YOU?

Me: I just told you.

Justin: You're in front of the mailboxes?

Me: Yes.  I don't know which one belongs to which house and it's getting dark and no one is around.... (i'm crying by this point)

Justin: Why are you still there then?

Me: (silence)

Justin: Vicki!  Are you there?  Can you hear me??

Me: Yes.

Justin: What are you doing?

Me: Sorting the mail.

Justin: Your kidding right?

Me: No, I'm not!  The mail was everywhere! I can't really see the numbers on the boxes and it's a lot to sort!!

To this day, when Justin tells the story, he always emphasizes the fact that I sorted the mail before I left because he thinks I have an abnormal obsession with the postal system and, apparently, this story backs up his theory.

So, when I see a mangled mailbox, I remember that day fondly.  I won't continue with the dialogue, but while in that state of mind, I determined that the people should actually PAY me for hitting their mailboxes, because the other ones where total crap to begin with.  They would have to replace the mailboxes with new ones, which would increase the value of their property!  Therefore, as I informed my husband, I did them a huge favor, and THEY should pay US for the auto body repairs on the truck.  How I came up with that wacky logic is unclear, but I remember thinking that I was really smart when I was pregnant, sleep deprived and off of my anxiety medication.  AND, when I took him to see the mailboxes the next day, they had already replaced all of them with the pretty new kind that are encased in plastic mailbox-shaped suits of armor.  Improvements were swiftly made.  All. Because. Of me.

I am unable to post photos of the mailboxes before and after they were replaced (again, they could be YOURS and you'd be super pissed, as I imagine that you aren't buying that whole property value increase theory), but I've seen many others since that day and I always wonder what the story is behind them.  I've taken photos of some of my favorites since then and I hope you find these as intriguing as I did.  (Note: These are all taken in rather nice neighborhoods, which makes some of them even more entertaining.  Enjoy!)

These people are not giving up.  You can see by the multiple types of tape used that this was not their first rodeo, if you know what I mean.  

My personal favorite!  These people are on a mission.  They will protect their mailbox at all costs.  Garbage can filled with  cinder block chunks and held down with rebar, with electrical wire AND an audio/visual cable tying it to the post for the added touch.  I bet you he grabbed everything he could find in his garage that last time his mailbox was hit and put this together, fueled by fury!

Piggy back mail boxing.  At what point do you call your neighbor and say, "Ive had enough.  I'm not buying another mailbox.  I'm going to just tie mine onto yours.  I hope you can deal with that"?  Then, was the main box hit and the guy was too afraid to replace it with the other mailbox (from aforementioned pissed off neighbor) attached?

True New Yorker.  This person just took the box, flipped it so the opening was  facing up and still uses it this way.  There was mail in it!  I peeked!  This guy knows that if he replaces that box and we get a ton of snow, the DPW Angry Plowers will just take the new one out too.

This person just gave up.  RIP mailbox.  

Sent to me by a friend.  Total honorable mention! Support stick, rope, massive duct tape and who knows what else they used.  That little red flag screams "Never say die!  You can knock me down, but you can't take me out!"

If you have any of your own please email them to me! (those are zeros, not the letter "o")

Wishing you all a lovely start to the holiday season!  xoxo

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Wednesday, October 29, 2014

The Demise of Organizational Confidence

Recent conversation in my home:

(Scene: I'm sitting on the couch in the living room watching Sofia The First with Allie and watching my husband as he prepares to fix our coat rack. Multiple trips have been made to and from the garage as he collects the tools necessary for the job)

Me:  (taking a double take as Justin walks past for the final time)You need a HATCHET to hang a coat rack????

Justin:  (eyeing up the wall with his back to me)  I couldn't find a hammer.  It's the best I could do.

Me:  WHAT?

Justin:  What?

Me:  You're a tool guy and you can't find a hammer?

Justin:  (still looking at the wall)  Yeah.

Me:  And you don't find that ODD?

Justin:  How can you expect me to find a hammer in that mess?

Me: I can't believe you can't find a basic tool like a hammer.  Aren't you ashamed of yourself?

Justin:  (pause)  Maybe a little.

Installation commenced.  Seriously, folks.... he used the hatchet.  Totally true story.

I tell you this story because for the past seven years, Mr. I Sold Tools For A Living has been arguing with me about our garage being a mess.  His arguments have changed over the years.  I think he slowly started to accept the facts.  For your amusement, here are the most frequently heard retorts to my accusations:

2006:    "It's not THAT bad.  All of this stuff is seriously important."
2007 - 2013: "It's a little messy.....but I know where all my shit is."
2008:    "I think we might to need to get out there and clean the garage."
2010:    "'s like training camp for an episode of hoarders out there."
2012:    "The garage is getting pretty bad."
2014:    "I can't find ANYTHING."

The 2014 statement occurred only after we had an organizer come and "just look" at the situation.  Apparently, all it took was a professional person with great organization skills, who could speak to him in gentle tones, to drive this point home.

I'd love to post a photo of our garage, but I can't and the reason is two-fold.  One, it's such an embarrassing disaster and I'm afraid you'll judge ME along with him.  Two,  allegedly we have stuff of value in there (or he's just lying so I won't throw everything away while he isn't home) and I don't wanna brag!  (as if you really give a shit about tools)  So, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Let me post some supporting photo documentation to go with the story above before I wrap this up:

The tools necessary to REhang the coat hanger.  Notice the HATCHET.  I wonder how confident he would be about me hanging photos with a bunch of nails and a hatchet.
Speaking of nails..... notice the thing-a-ma-jig, whatchacallit, do-dads here.  Our garage looks like a tornado hit it.... multiple times..... yet his little parts and stuff are perfectly organized in a bunch of carriers like this.  I don't get it.  Did he exhaust his organizational skills with small parts?
Sad sad coat hanger.  For the fourth time, he points out that the rack has too many coats on it.  My question was "Don't you have a stud finder?"  (The responses are always eye-rollers.)  The little hanging whozeewhatzees above are supposed to help you hang stuff when you can't find a stud.   I think we can label this method as A FAIL  (not yet of epic proportions)
Removal of our overused coat rack for the 4th time.  I know the amount of times from the three holes in the wall.  I think we may be putting too many coats on the rack.... maybe..... I think.  I'll have you know that the rack is back on the wall and all of the coats are on it again.  We're blond, you know?  It takes us awhile to catch on.

Here's a photo of my little princess.  She helped me walk Tallulah today.  I love it when we get to spend time together in the middle of the day.  Aren't they both beautiful?

DISCLAIMER:  The previous story in no way indicates that my husband is unable to do handyman projects.  He gutted and remodeled a kitchen, two bathrooms and a bunch of walls and ceilings....which he had never done before.  He's a "let me wing it first and see how it goes" kinda guy.  I'm beyond impressed with his mechanical abilities.  I love you, dear!

NOTATION:  I once hung up a two foot wide shelf when my first husband was at work.  I used a level, NUMEROUS screws, bolts, nails (for screw reinforcement), a hammer, an electric drill, a chalk thingy to draw a line, and a hammer (NOT a hatchet).  He came home, put a book on it and the shelf felt forward about three inches from the wall.  After forbidding me to touch any more electrical tools in the house, collecting himself from laughing at me, AND removing the shelf and supporting items, he taught me about WALL ANCHORS.  Thank you, Ron, for this very valuable piece of homeowner knowledge that I will never forget.   P.s. I still have no idea how to use them!

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Friday, October 10, 2014

Therapeutic, Drug Free Weddings

I've mentioned it before, but this past week, my wedding day has been stuck in my head.  Mostly, because a week ago I got to be a part of celebrating my friends' wedding.  I think those events bring up lots of memories for us "already marrieds".

Rose and Steve's wedding was beautiful.  I know people say it all of the time, but I think it may have been one of the most perfect weddings I've ever been to.  The location was fantastic, the people in the wedding were so awesome and the bride looked stunning.  And I mean stunning for real....not in the way that people say stunning because that's the right thing to say.  Plus the guests were a lot of fun and we were put at a table with the super cool people, which always makes it more comfortable when you don't really know anyone.

Steve and Rose...... and the rest of us peeps! 
There was something really strange about the whole event tho.  It was actually therapeutic.  Being able to participate in a perfect wedding with people I love helped me get over the residual guilt of my own wedding day.

Let me take you back 5 years......

I was sick.  The end.

Okay, there was more.  I had spent months upon months obsessing over things and carrying around this kajungus wedding organizer because I wanted things to be perfect.  My mission statement was, "I just want everyone to have a good time."  I just forgot to add "WITH ME."   Apparently, God is very strict with his interpretations when granting requests.
Waiting for the tardy party members.  Places people!  Places!
The night before, we had the rehearsal dinner, which was very nice and Justin and I were gloriously happy.  Before I walked out the door to go home, I sneezed.

Instant sick.

The next morning, I woke up..... sicker.  I rummaged thru my medicine cabinet like a nut, looking for something to make me feel less sniffly, sneezy, coughy and achy.  I was marrying the man of my dreams and everyone I loved was going to be there.  I needed energy and I needed to be clear headed.  So, I took Tylenol Sore Throat and Comtrex somethingoranother.  I grabbed my wedding day crap and ran to my mom's.

I walked thru that door and my parents, brother and sister-in-law all looked at me and said, "Oh my God.  You look awful."  I can still see their faces.  They had that flinchy, slightly shocked, "yikes" look.

I panicked.  "Oh my gawd.  What am I going to do......?"

Here's what else happened.  I FAILED TO MENTION the previously consumed medications from home.   So, when said family starting handing me glasses of water with promises of "take this and it'll help", I started gulping water and drugs like a fish out of water.  Tablets and cough syrups left and right.

About an hour later, I sat in the salon chair, getting my hair done, staring into Kathy's eyes as I held her hand, repeating, "I don't feel good.  I really don't feel right.  I think something is wrong."
This actually did turn out to be a lovely coiffure.  Kathy took the photo and then I confessed to being totally jacked up!

You've seen that I'm blond.  I do fit the stereotype from time to time.  My blondness prevented me from figuring out that I was.....O-V-E-R M-E-D-I-C-A-T-E-D.  In a big way.

Before leaving for the church, we were praying to God, angels, deceased relatives, the Pope, and anyone else with some miraculous pull that might help me feel better.  FAST.
Justin holding me upright and the girls were like book ends keeping me from falling over
ps. Liz I apologize for the photo with the eyes closed but it's the only digital one of these I have!
It didn't happen.  I was now "cold sick" as well as "over medicated sick".  NOT a good combo.  I spent from 1pm until 8pm on the verge of throwing up, unable to eat, dizzy, crying, completely miserable.  I laid on the couch in the bridal suite while people came up to check on me.  I especially enjoyed those who stated the obvious, "You never should've taken all of that medicine!"  Thank you and fuck you.

Here's what I do recall:

I spent a whole lot of time in the bathroom staring into the toilet and praying that I would barf up all of the meds and feel better.

My poor husband spent the first 3 hours of our reception on his own.  It was like he married an invisible person.  (I still feel guilt about that.)

A lot of people checked in on me to see how I was.  My mom, Justin, Kathy, my neighbor Trish, Justin's aunts Kathy and Angel, my mothers-in-law.... and then my oldest NY friend Wendy sat on the couch, feeding me bread and being so kind.  It turns out that Wendy had the magic touch, because even though I couldn't eat, THAT was what made me feel better.  A big fat edible sponge to absorb all of those meds.  She saved what was left of my wedding day!

I got to enjoy the last two hours of the day, even though I was high as a kite from everything I took.  I got to dance with people, cut the cake, ogle Justin, and have some sort of fun.

My favorite part though was the ceremony.  Why?  Because I learned that THAT was the most important part of a wedding.  Not all of the dancing and fun.  It was some sort of miracle, but for that 1/2 hour, I was perfectly fine and healthy and freaking THRILLED.  God took pity on me and said, "Ahhhhh....alright.  I'll let you enjoy the important part.  But that's all!  Don't get your hopes up.  I'll think about the rest of the evening."

We had this guy perform our wedding who thought we were  a riot.  We filled out questionnaires and he really went with it.    When I watch the DVD, I still laugh or cry while watching the ceremony.  It was the best moment of my life, right after having Allie.   I still get that same flutter in my stomach when I think about it.   Our guy kicked ass on our ceremony and I was totally 100% smitten with the other guy there.  You know.  Oh, what's his name?.......  Justin!  That's right.  Whew!  (wink)
One of the best moments of my life.  Lucky girl!
I was really glad we had someone do video because that's the only way I got to see what my reception was like.  It was as I hoped.  People had a good time.  But now I know to include myself when I make such requests!  Never forget yourself.  It took me 37 years to learn that if you don't make yourself a priority, chances are no one else will.
Immediately after our ceremony.....just on the cusp of become sickly all over again

Mind you, five years later, I was sick again!  Yep.  But I combated that shit with vitamins and medication and Airborne in a reasonable fashion.  By the big day, I had a slight cough and sniffles, but Mucinex D helped hide them until midnight.  I also annoyed the crap out of Rose, probably freaking her out, about getting sleep and not getting sick and taking vitamins.  She probably wanted to scream, "SHUT THE FLUCK UP!!!" at me numerous times.

Yet still, Rose and Steve's day allowed me to enjoy and participate in a "do over" of sorts.  I got to be a part of a perfect wedding and enjoy myself!  I cried at the ceremony partly because I was so happy for my friends, partly because it was a beautiful moment and partly because I had that flutter in my heart remembering the moment I married my own Prince Charming.

So, if you're a bride to be, or know one,  be sure you/they are mindful of three things:

  1. Take care of yourself physically.  Keep in mind that stress drains you physically and wreaks havoc on your immune system.
  2. Plan the day so YOU have fun.  Everyone there will follow your cue.  
  3. Focus on that ceremony.  Even if no one else listens, it's the most important part of what's going on that day.  Remember that.
Love to all!

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