Tag Archives: flood

Words Make My Mouth Exercise

16 Sep

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to a touch of whiplash from the last few weeks/months. In the continuing theme of ‘never a dull moment,’ I could never claim boredom or being stuck in a rut. Here’s why.

As you may recall, all hell broke loose on us yet again about two years ago. No, it wasn’t the year of hell that was 2010, but it was still a three-punch in the gut. (These sets all seem to come in threes, no?)

This year was humming right along. Hubby back in school to prep for the CPA exam while he continued his job hunt, me going strong with Mugs & Wit. We even started a cleanse to kick off the year with a (ahem)…clean slate.

Then round about January 20th, one of the Va-Jay-Jay BFFs, Lady Lou, had to go and join the Big C Club. Cleanse aborted and many bottles of wine later, we had almost all cried ourselves out. So we dusted off those big girl panties and armored up to take this shitty cancer thing DOWN. AGAIN.

She finished up chemo the first week of June, ran away to do the hula in Hawaii for a few days and came back to get radiated (as if she isn’t radiant enough already). She is now in the after care phase with Herceptin injections every three weeks until February 2016. Tamoxifen is her daily friend for the next five years. Take that you big bully, cancer. She is doing GREAT. And I’ve been privileged enough to be there with her through most of it all — even when I’ve had to cry to make her let me come. (I’m a good friend like that.)

And while we’re on the subject of crying….that seems to be my new modus operandi. I cry over sinks full of dishes, friends who won’t let me go to their oncology appointments, dear uncles who get diagnosed with ALS, and other friends who up and have a kid with bone cancer.

I try to blame it all on the other letter that should always have the word BIG in front of it: M. And maybe it is that. Hot flashes suck ass. I had my head in the freezer the other night and the hubby says, “Gross. You’re going to get hair in the ICE.” I thought, “Maybe I should go buy an ice pick to stick in his head.”

But I digress. Crying over dear friends/family members fighting for their lives while you helplessly sit by and wring your hands is pretty normal. It’s the sink full of dishes things that isn’t really like the others…

To progress this story forward, I’d like to say that when I highjacked Lady Lou’s appointment (on my birthday in April) with the doc that we share announcing that the hubby was FIVE YEARS ALL CLEAR, and we hugged and cried, that was a full circle moment. She could see for herself that the little yellow-ish flicker at the end of that long, dark, drafty tunnel will soon be HERS TOO.

And forward from there, we had a summer of fun. Camping, 10 days at the beach in SC, hiking, day trips to Denver by bus. It was really great — even though work was busy as holy hell. We got through and the hubby had landed himself a newfangled job just as it was all coming to a close. Awesome.

It’s the last few weeks that have made me dizzy. Weird I know. After 2.5 years of getting my company ramped up, bringing home the bacon and feeling like my head was sizzling itself from it all, business just dropped off. The timing was fantastic since I am playing single, SAHM most days with the hubby traveling, doing the job of two people since his coworker was fired 8 days in AND trying to finish up his accounting classes before he goes on halfway-through-I’m-going-to-lose-my-mind hiatus. Oh. And having his back freak the shit out and double him over. Right on the conveyor belt in the Whole Foods check out line. (ER visit plus MRI showed a pinched nerve and compacted disk. The meds worked. He’s getting better. Much. Thanks for asking.)

Seriously great timing. But. I am struggling mightily with it. Living in this strange gray area that isn’t quite SAHM OR bringing home the bacon/money-making fool. I’m so used to being one OR the other that I can’t quite wrap my head around being a seriously half-assed BOTH. Or with how quickly it all changed.

I would say that in light of the other shit that has gone down this year, this is NOTHING. But it sure feels like SOMETHING to me.

The only glimmer of hope in this freshly-minted identity crisis is that I haven’t cried about it yet.

And look at me, would you? I’m all writing again and shit. At least until the next big deadline rears its head. Amiright?

TODAY’S THEME SONG: When a problem comes along (you must whip it). Devo

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The RAIN in Spain.

26 Feb

The past five months or so have been a blur. I know everyone says that. But I’m serious. Because my Lasik didn’t really take, so I can’t see without copious amounts of eye drops.

And besides that, the hubby got laid off and a week later my cousin was killed and our basement flooded (along with the rest of our state).

Since our house wasn’t in the flood plain (and I’d checked that online and then again because of my OCD), we weren’t concerned when the neighbors started building an ark. Or when the retention pond up at the school built to withstand the 100-year-flood started to overflow.

My cousin’s death was a tragedy of the deepest depths. While we were being rained upon with a vengeance, she flipped herself and her two best friends and dog upside down in a creek and they all drowned. If it hadn’t been so fucking sad and tragic, it would have been ironic. I guess it still is, since irony can be shaded with sad.

The water came pouring in on us that very afternoon, just as I was trying to find a flight back home. Then everything here went to hell, with bean curled in a ball as a six-foot-wall of water poured in her window well and then straight into her room.

The funny part of the flood is that afterwards, everyone tries to make sure everyone else knows that they know how lucky they were considering. “Well, at least I still have a house.” “Yea. It could’ve been so much worse. Like the five feet of sewage the Cronins/Browns, etc. got.”

The good news is that the locusts didn’t come too. And the hubby had all sorts of free time to get the basement back to living condition for the girls.

So after a couple of months of them on mattresses in our office with our total square footage cut in half, we were back and better by first of November. A record-setting, ribbon-cutting worthy moment. Especially since all those poor sap friends with jobs are just now or not even back to normal. 

And since our luck had been so good and our paychecks were so plentiful, we decided it was high time to get a hot tub. Big surprise for the girls on Christmas morn: “Look! We got you a CEMENT PAD!!!” They loved it and started to jump rope on it right away.

Then the hot tub came a few days later. Much to their chagrin.

I also got to go back to South Carolina in October for a gathering of cousins. My dear friend, Debra, hooked us up with a sweet house in Folly Beach and the owner donated it. I was so incredibly touched. 

And then the reality of all of those crazy asses taking over this precious little donated cottage hit and I spent the weekend being called ‘the chaperone’ by my sweet brother and fretting that all of the puking that was going on was going to clog the septic line.

Plus, I spent every night but one (of the six) sharing a bed with my mom. Who has a CPAP for the apnea and rarely wears underwear to bed. So, 1. if she got too quiet, I’d think she was dead and my brother kept saying she was “my responsibility.’ and 2. she really likes to cuddle. I don’t like being touched when I’m sleeping. Much less by my own mother who’s off in Darth Vader/CPAP land and isn’t adequately clothed.

And, when she wakes up in the night — which is frequent — she launches into WIDE AWAKE CONVERSATIONS like you’ve just been sitting there this whole time sipping an OJ and flipping through a trashy mag.

That weekend was one for the ages and I think we did my cousin proud. She would’ve been right there in that bed with us trying to spoon me too. (Elizabeth will be relieved I didn’t feature her. That’s for the next blog.)

I went back for round two in January after mom tried to bite it by ingesting a grill brush bristle and perforating her colon. Luckily it abscessed and sealed. But she still lost 10 inches and I couldn’t stop thinking, “What is it with this family and colons?” Then, just when she was about to go home, she starting hemorrhaging and wouldn’t stop. So every time she didn’t call back I was freaking out. Never a dull moment. 

Now on this side of 2014, I just keep hoping for dull and boring. 

So far, we’re making a go of the husband-and-wife wonder twin powers to activate some income via Mugs & Wit. You should see the look on your face just picturing trying to work with your spouse. 

No complaints so far other than:

  1. Trying to train a grown man from scratch on a new industry takes undying patience and love for said man.
  2. Having all of your eggs in one basket means you use one too many clichés (and suffer from chronic heartburn).
  3. Balancing billable, deadline-oriented work with training, creative direction, managing and re-branding a company after 10 years means IF I DON’T GET A DAMNED MASSAGE I’LL CUTTA BITCH.
  4. My attention-to-detail is not the same as that of — er— others…

 And other than some mild teenage drama involving stranger video chat rooms and a bean who pukes on people’s shoes when she gets a migraine, life is pretty much as hoped. Boring/dull with a side of hot tub.

Let’s keep it that way.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: This is how I show my love. I made it in my mind because I blame it on my ADD… Sail. Awolnation.

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