I spent last Thanksgiving in the ICU of University hospital in San Antonio. It was one of the days when I made the 2 hour trip to visit Steve. His surgery was 2 days prior, but he wasn't doing so hot, and they left him in ICU. I ate the mashed potatoes off of his cafeteria tray. He didn't touch any of the food and I declared everything else inedible. Due to the crazy strict policies of county hospital, visiting hours were kind of sketchy. I would drive 2 hours there, spend maybe 2 hours with Steve and then have to leave again. When I got back home, it was around 9pm. My family was hanging out taking care of (at the time) my 2 year old and my 8 week old. They had picked up mashed potatoes in a pouch, stuffing in a box, cranberry sauce in a can (the only good kind there is) and a rotisserie turkey breast from our grocery store. We hadn't planned on having Thanksgiving dinner since Steve was in the hospital but it was decided that we had to do SOMETHING to commemorate the day. I remember choking it down only because I was forced to eat it. I knew then, just how sick Steve was, but I still didn't think he was going to die. It just felt WRONG to be doing any sort of holiday recognizing at all.
One of the first meals I made for myself after everyone went back home after Steve died was what we now refer to as Lazy Thanksgiving Dinner. Mashed potatoes in a pouch, stuffing in a box, cranberry sauce in a can and a rotisserie turkey. Its one of my all time favorite things to eat. As wrong as it felt that day, now it feels like the perfect holiday meal any week of the year. Its also ready to eat in less than 10 minutes.
This year I'll be spending the holiday at my brother's house in Dallas. I'll spend this week visiting old friends and doing fun family crap with my girls. I've never been more excited for Thanksgiving week in my entire life. And that includes the week my freshman year in college when I not only didn't have any school, but didn't have to pick up a part-time job like I did over Christmas break. This week won't be the decadently lazy week like when I was 18, but it will be just the week I need to make up for the wreck of last year.
In spite of everything I've lost, I've never been this thankful in my entire life. My life hasn't turned out exactly the way I thought it was supposed to, but its not a huge pile of crap either. My kids are amazing and beautiful and healthy. I have a wonderful home that I love. When I wake up in the morning, I open all the blinds at the back of the house and look out over the water. Its beautiful.
My friends get me through every single day. No matter what it is that I need. I don't think I could ever explain just how thankful I am for them. Today I got a make-over and a load of laundry done (our washing machine died).
My family is unreal. I called my father 15 times in the span of 1 hour this afternoon. I was buying a new washer and dryer and no matter how many times I thought I understood all the details of appliance purchasing, I kept needing to ask another question. He answered the phone every single time. I would have pretended to not be home after the 3rd call.
As you gather around your living rooms (tv sets) and tables this week, please please please take a minute to really think about everything you're thankful for. It doesn't have to be what you consider big stuff. All stuff is big stuff. Be thankful that no one got food poisoning. Be thankful that no one was arrested. Be thankful that someone was sober enough to drive to the minimart at 3pm to get the cranberry sauce everyone forgot. Be thankful for all the health and happiness in your life. No matter what kind of year (or month or week or day) you've had. There is still a lot to be thankful for.
Happy Thanksgiving, friends.
P.S.
Recipe for Steve's favorite sandwich on earth
Day After Thanksgiving Sandwiches
2 pieces of white bread - toasted
dijon mustard
plate with leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy - heat this in the microwave
cold cranberry sauce
spread mustard on bread (duh) use a lot of it though. This is a big sandwich and you need the mustard to stand up to it
Spread mashed potatoes on one piece of bread and stuffing on the other (acts as a good glue to hold the turkey and cranberry sauce in the middle) assemble remaining ingredients and cut in half and enjoy.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
An open ended letter on grief and grieving
I've said it before and I'll say it again. There is no one way to grieve. Anytime someone goes through a catastrophic event in their life, there is no right or wrong way to deal with the pain in the aftermath. I'm neither an expert nor educated in this field, but I can bet I have more life experience in the subject than many doctors do, so I feel I have the authority to state my opinion publicly. The public being the 50-some odd people who read this blog.
I knew this time of year was going to be hard. Its always a slap in the face to not only have to deal with losing someone you love, but doing so in the period that falls between Halloween and lets say Valentines day. I actually count myself lucky that I have a 'last thing'. The last thing we did as a family of 4 (Steve, Delaney, Alby and I) was go trick-or-treating. It was also the last time Steve walked more than the 5 steps between the bed and the bathroom. Its been a year. Halloween was last week and it was indeed hard. It was also wonderful. We walked the same route for trick-or-treating with a lot of the same folks. It was like walking back in time. I had to stop more than once while my eyes welled up and I had my little Steve moment. Then I moved on and took in the laughing and running and candy ecstacy that only little kids on halloween can bring out. As hard as it was, it was indeed a wonderful day. In the coming weeks, I will face the anniversary of Steve's doctor appt, him being admitted to the hospital in San Antonio, us receiving the cancer blow, his body falling apart, him coming home and being a bed-ridden invalid, no longer a doting father and husband, his final admission to the hospital and then his death. All of this occurs between the week of thanksgiving and 7 days after new years. I'm not really dreading it though b/c in the irony of the suckage of something horrible occurring this time of year, I have 2 fabulous distractions who will want to make construction paper turkeys and visit santa and decorate cookies and christmas trees. Its much more of a blessing than a curse.
Right after Steve died, I was on one of my many phone calls to customer support personnel to have all our life transferred over from his name to mine. Now I forget which company I was calling, but somehow the person on the other end of the line was someone just like me. Just 20 years later. When I explained our situation she paused and offered up a smidge of her story (I lost my husband 20 years ago when we were very young) and promised me that there will come a time when things DO start to look up and normal and you won't feel so awful anymore. That's when it hit me that I wasn't the first (nor sadly the last) person who would ever go through this nightmare. It sounds weird but it actually did offer a (small) comfort knowing that at 3 in the morning I wasn't the only person walking around my house trying not to wake up my babies while silently crying and touching everything Steve ever touched. Every single item in your house has significant meaning if you look hard enough. The silverware we shopped all day for and bought TOGETHER (the first co-purchase in our lives) His dirty socks tossed in the corner of the bedroom that you long ago gave up bitching about. Every picture hanging on the wall of you and him smiling posing in front of some significant geographic locale, or maybe just standing in your living room. Whatever it is you're doing alone in the middle of the night, take comfort knowing you're not the only person doing it.
There is not an hour that goes by where I don't think of Steve. The difference now is that I don't think about him in an angry or sad way. I just think of him. There's no way to not. He's everywhere. Everytime I look at Delaney I see him. Not just in her face but the way she's laying on the floor watching tv or (so sadly) trying to dance. Poor baby is all knees and elbows just like he was and she has zero sense of rhythm. I still get a pang of jealousy when I see a family walking around our neighborhood. Its not an ugly resentful feeling but I do recognize it as jealousy. I'm not sure when this one goes away.
I started to notice I was feeling better (for real feeling better not just telling people I was fine) when I noticed I was making new good memories. The first time you have FUN or genuinely laugh and have a moment of reflection that damn, today was a great day. Your pain and grief never totally disappear but they will someday be pushed out of the forefront and into the background. You notice more happy feelings than sad feelings. You realize its possible to celebrate a happy occassion without the person you so desperately want to be there. It all happens in time and there is no way to rush it. You do what works for you to get through the day or even just the next 10 minutes. I always whittled my 'units' down to 1 hour at a time. I never looked beyond functioning for 1 hour. It is what worked for me and may not be what works for you. You'll find the one thing that works and hold onto it like its a winning lottery ticket, or your husbands undershirt that still somehow smells like him. Then before you know it, its been a week, then a month, then 3 months, then 6 months and your life appears somewhat stable and normal and happy. It doesn't mean you no longer hurt or have any anger towards the gods for the shitty hand you were dealt, but that anger and hurt are no longer the only things you're holding onto.
There is nothing nothing NOTHING fair about someone dying before the age of 75. I have arbitrarily picked that age so please don't hold any contempt if you're 76 and don't feel you've lived a full life yet. Unfortunately it happens every single day. The people who are left to pick up the pieces after anyone dies are the ones who truly suffer. It doesn't matter whether the death was sudden or a long time coming. Whether someone died from cancer or a car accident. A stroke or a mass shooting on a military base. Your initial period of grieving may differ, but in the end you're left in the same place as everyone else. I always counted myself lucky that I had some time to digest what Steve's inevitable fate was going to be. The day he died was not my worst day. We were all so relieved he wasn't in pain anymore and his nightmare was finally over that January 7th was not my 'worst day'. My worst day was 3 weeks earlier when the doctor told me over the phone that Steve had a couple weeks to live and I had had NO idea. That for me was essentially the phone call being told my husband was gone. No matter how you get the news and what the circumstances are, everyone is left in the same place. Feeling scared, angry, unimaginably sad and alone. For anyone who has never gone through a catastrophic loss, take a moment to thank whoever for how lucky you are. It makes me happy knowing there are many of you out there.
Two days ago, one of my best friends lost her husband. It happened while I am out of town with no way to get back to her. Not that she'd let me cut my trip short b/c that is the kind of person she is. She was the person who was there for me in exactly the way I needed after Steve died. She was the one who showed up when everyone else went home. She would come over at night after putting her son to bed and bring wine and laughter and we'd sit and watch tv and talk. She also welcomed me into her family in the weeks and months following Steve's death. I actually spent several holidays at her house with her parents and in-laws and they never once made me feel like I didn't belong there. I also loved her husband. I was never fully comfortable around him because he was one of those utterly fabulous people. Smart and successful and funny and engaging. Just a genuinely pleasant person to have in the room. He did a lot of random helpful things for me without even trying. He's the reason we have affordable health insurance. I was lost on what to do about that and he gave me the information I needed. His father acted as our attorney on more than one occassion and helped us out of a jam with Steve's insurance company. He did so completely free of charge. I knew where my friend's husband's stand up attitude was from. He was raised that way. One of my favorite memories of him came right after Steve died. I was at their house doing whatever, and when we were packing up to leave I was tryin to juggle Delaney, 2 big diaper bags of crap, something we were borrowing for the baby, god knows what else, and of course the baby herself. Most husbands are helpful and sweet. They don't just sit back and watch the new widow struggle to the car. They'll help carry a bag and open the door. He was different. He didn't just grab the bags, he grabbed the baby. I've never had anyone pick up the baby willingly and pop her carseat in the backseat. I almost cried when he did this because it was such a perfect 'dad' thing to do. That was the day I learned that he wasn't just smart and successful and funny and pleasant but that he was also wonderful and loving and a fantantastic Dad. The world is a sorry sad place without him, but I'm grateful I was given the chance to know him.
For anyone out there who is hurting or sad. I wish I could take some of your pain and ball it up with my own so that you could feel a little better.
The death of someone you love more than air and sunlight isn't the end. Its just one of the things you will experience in your life. It may be the worst thing you ever go through. I hope it is. After living through something like that, you'll be amazed at things that no longer bother you. You've survied the worst and most horrible thing that can happen to a person. It puts everything else in perspective and you will find yourself appreciating other experiences in your life more than anyone who has never experienced a loss. Put in that perspective, you're suddenly not the unluckiest person in the world.
As I'm sitting here in central Pennsylvannia, I miss my friends who are actually my FAMILY. I love you and can't wait to see you soon.
Kathie
I knew this time of year was going to be hard. Its always a slap in the face to not only have to deal with losing someone you love, but doing so in the period that falls between Halloween and lets say Valentines day. I actually count myself lucky that I have a 'last thing'. The last thing we did as a family of 4 (Steve, Delaney, Alby and I) was go trick-or-treating. It was also the last time Steve walked more than the 5 steps between the bed and the bathroom. Its been a year. Halloween was last week and it was indeed hard. It was also wonderful. We walked the same route for trick-or-treating with a lot of the same folks. It was like walking back in time. I had to stop more than once while my eyes welled up and I had my little Steve moment. Then I moved on and took in the laughing and running and candy ecstacy that only little kids on halloween can bring out. As hard as it was, it was indeed a wonderful day. In the coming weeks, I will face the anniversary of Steve's doctor appt, him being admitted to the hospital in San Antonio, us receiving the cancer blow, his body falling apart, him coming home and being a bed-ridden invalid, no longer a doting father and husband, his final admission to the hospital and then his death. All of this occurs between the week of thanksgiving and 7 days after new years. I'm not really dreading it though b/c in the irony of the suckage of something horrible occurring this time of year, I have 2 fabulous distractions who will want to make construction paper turkeys and visit santa and decorate cookies and christmas trees. Its much more of a blessing than a curse.
Right after Steve died, I was on one of my many phone calls to customer support personnel to have all our life transferred over from his name to mine. Now I forget which company I was calling, but somehow the person on the other end of the line was someone just like me. Just 20 years later. When I explained our situation she paused and offered up a smidge of her story (I lost my husband 20 years ago when we were very young) and promised me that there will come a time when things DO start to look up and normal and you won't feel so awful anymore. That's when it hit me that I wasn't the first (nor sadly the last) person who would ever go through this nightmare. It sounds weird but it actually did offer a (small) comfort knowing that at 3 in the morning I wasn't the only person walking around my house trying not to wake up my babies while silently crying and touching everything Steve ever touched. Every single item in your house has significant meaning if you look hard enough. The silverware we shopped all day for and bought TOGETHER (the first co-purchase in our lives) His dirty socks tossed in the corner of the bedroom that you long ago gave up bitching about. Every picture hanging on the wall of you and him smiling posing in front of some significant geographic locale, or maybe just standing in your living room. Whatever it is you're doing alone in the middle of the night, take comfort knowing you're not the only person doing it.
There is not an hour that goes by where I don't think of Steve. The difference now is that I don't think about him in an angry or sad way. I just think of him. There's no way to not. He's everywhere. Everytime I look at Delaney I see him. Not just in her face but the way she's laying on the floor watching tv or (so sadly) trying to dance. Poor baby is all knees and elbows just like he was and she has zero sense of rhythm. I still get a pang of jealousy when I see a family walking around our neighborhood. Its not an ugly resentful feeling but I do recognize it as jealousy. I'm not sure when this one goes away.
I started to notice I was feeling better (for real feeling better not just telling people I was fine) when I noticed I was making new good memories. The first time you have FUN or genuinely laugh and have a moment of reflection that damn, today was a great day. Your pain and grief never totally disappear but they will someday be pushed out of the forefront and into the background. You notice more happy feelings than sad feelings. You realize its possible to celebrate a happy occassion without the person you so desperately want to be there. It all happens in time and there is no way to rush it. You do what works for you to get through the day or even just the next 10 minutes. I always whittled my 'units' down to 1 hour at a time. I never looked beyond functioning for 1 hour. It is what worked for me and may not be what works for you. You'll find the one thing that works and hold onto it like its a winning lottery ticket, or your husbands undershirt that still somehow smells like him. Then before you know it, its been a week, then a month, then 3 months, then 6 months and your life appears somewhat stable and normal and happy. It doesn't mean you no longer hurt or have any anger towards the gods for the shitty hand you were dealt, but that anger and hurt are no longer the only things you're holding onto.
There is nothing nothing NOTHING fair about someone dying before the age of 75. I have arbitrarily picked that age so please don't hold any contempt if you're 76 and don't feel you've lived a full life yet. Unfortunately it happens every single day. The people who are left to pick up the pieces after anyone dies are the ones who truly suffer. It doesn't matter whether the death was sudden or a long time coming. Whether someone died from cancer or a car accident. A stroke or a mass shooting on a military base. Your initial period of grieving may differ, but in the end you're left in the same place as everyone else. I always counted myself lucky that I had some time to digest what Steve's inevitable fate was going to be. The day he died was not my worst day. We were all so relieved he wasn't in pain anymore and his nightmare was finally over that January 7th was not my 'worst day'. My worst day was 3 weeks earlier when the doctor told me over the phone that Steve had a couple weeks to live and I had had NO idea. That for me was essentially the phone call being told my husband was gone. No matter how you get the news and what the circumstances are, everyone is left in the same place. Feeling scared, angry, unimaginably sad and alone. For anyone who has never gone through a catastrophic loss, take a moment to thank whoever for how lucky you are. It makes me happy knowing there are many of you out there.
Two days ago, one of my best friends lost her husband. It happened while I am out of town with no way to get back to her. Not that she'd let me cut my trip short b/c that is the kind of person she is. She was the person who was there for me in exactly the way I needed after Steve died. She was the one who showed up when everyone else went home. She would come over at night after putting her son to bed and bring wine and laughter and we'd sit and watch tv and talk. She also welcomed me into her family in the weeks and months following Steve's death. I actually spent several holidays at her house with her parents and in-laws and they never once made me feel like I didn't belong there. I also loved her husband. I was never fully comfortable around him because he was one of those utterly fabulous people. Smart and successful and funny and engaging. Just a genuinely pleasant person to have in the room. He did a lot of random helpful things for me without even trying. He's the reason we have affordable health insurance. I was lost on what to do about that and he gave me the information I needed. His father acted as our attorney on more than one occassion and helped us out of a jam with Steve's insurance company. He did so completely free of charge. I knew where my friend's husband's stand up attitude was from. He was raised that way. One of my favorite memories of him came right after Steve died. I was at their house doing whatever, and when we were packing up to leave I was tryin to juggle Delaney, 2 big diaper bags of crap, something we were borrowing for the baby, god knows what else, and of course the baby herself. Most husbands are helpful and sweet. They don't just sit back and watch the new widow struggle to the car. They'll help carry a bag and open the door. He was different. He didn't just grab the bags, he grabbed the baby. I've never had anyone pick up the baby willingly and pop her carseat in the backseat. I almost cried when he did this because it was such a perfect 'dad' thing to do. That was the day I learned that he wasn't just smart and successful and funny and pleasant but that he was also wonderful and loving and a fantantastic Dad. The world is a sorry sad place without him, but I'm grateful I was given the chance to know him.
For anyone out there who is hurting or sad. I wish I could take some of your pain and ball it up with my own so that you could feel a little better.
The death of someone you love more than air and sunlight isn't the end. Its just one of the things you will experience in your life. It may be the worst thing you ever go through. I hope it is. After living through something like that, you'll be amazed at things that no longer bother you. You've survied the worst and most horrible thing that can happen to a person. It puts everything else in perspective and you will find yourself appreciating other experiences in your life more than anyone who has never experienced a loss. Put in that perspective, you're suddenly not the unluckiest person in the world.
As I'm sitting here in central Pennsylvannia, I miss my friends who are actually my FAMILY. I love you and can't wait to see you soon.
Kathie
Friday, October 23, 2009
Dear Cancer,
Its been awhile since we've talked so I just wanted to extend my most sincere 'fuuuuuuuuuck yooooooooooou'. Nice try on giving Delaney the flu so I wouldn't show up to the livestrong challenge tomorrow. FAIL! Bet you didn't know that I'm the kind of mom who would leave her 3 year old in the care of her grandparents while she joined thousands of other people in telling you to fuck off. Well now you do know. I may have missed the pre-race registration hoopla today (seriously, you can eat me for that one) but I'm not missing tomorrow. I've worked too hard and we've raised too much money to help annihilate your ass off the face of this planet. If I were in prison, I'd make a shiv and shank your ass. If I were a nuclear physicist, I'd build a bomb to blow you to a million pieces and feed you to those man-eating anteater things from Hannibal and then blow them up too. But I'm not. I'm a Mom. And a widow who was once a wife, so I'm going to fuck you up the only way I can.
By showing up tomorrow and telling you exactly what you can do.
Fuck off.
Hugs and kisses,
Kathie Quinn
By showing up tomorrow and telling you exactly what you can do.
Fuck off.
Hugs and kisses,
Kathie Quinn
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
You know how leaving your house 10 minutes later for work can tack on 50 minutes of driving time thanks to traffic...
Well that is what happens when you take 2 days off from keeping up with housework around here. Except its exponentially worse. 2 weeks ago, I was in the hospital for less than 48 hours. I didn't get caught up on everything until TODAY! What the fuck is wrong with my time management skills? Its a good thing I'm not required to budget my time for a living. I'd be fired. Quickly.
By announcing my current status as caught up however, I've all but guaranteed someone will wake up hurling in the middle of the night. I have an actual reason for catching up now though. The Livestrong race is this weekend and I'll have 4 extra house guests who would probably appreciate vacuumed carpet (as there will be air mattresses on the floor) and cleaned sinks. I even combed through the floor and picked up every last microscopic plastic dinosaur. Those little fuckers hurt like hell to step on.
I also want to give a shout out to everyone who donated to Team F#@K Cancer. We've raised over $1700 for the Livestrong foundation. I'm honored to be racing with my teammates this weekend!
Even more honored to shove some pancakes in my pie-hole right after the race.
By announcing my current status as caught up however, I've all but guaranteed someone will wake up hurling in the middle of the night. I have an actual reason for catching up now though. The Livestrong race is this weekend and I'll have 4 extra house guests who would probably appreciate vacuumed carpet (as there will be air mattresses on the floor) and cleaned sinks. I even combed through the floor and picked up every last microscopic plastic dinosaur. Those little fuckers hurt like hell to step on.
I also want to give a shout out to everyone who donated to Team F#@K Cancer. We've raised over $1700 for the Livestrong foundation. I'm honored to be racing with my teammates this weekend!
Even more honored to shove some pancakes in my pie-hole right after the race.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Did you know that you can throw up enough times in 10 hours to necessitate being hooked to an IV for 2 days just to get rehydrated?
You can.
For those of you who aren't friends with me in the real world (or facebook) I had a rough week last week. Last Monday I had just finished my post-Hoarders house cleaning ritual when I started to feel barfy. Nothing too bad, just mildly iffy. I called a friend and told her I thought I was just tired and hot from cleaning the house and was going to go to bed. About 30 minutes later I started throwing up. The kind of throwing up that only I can accomplish. I did this every 10 minutes for 4 hours before realizing I needed to go to the E.R. I'd been wondering what the hell I'd do if the girls or I got violently ill in the middle of the night and had to go to the hospital. Now I know. First I called my parents who DIDN'T ANSWER THEIR PHONE! I wanted verification that I was indeed sick enough to seek medical treatment before calling around the neighborhood at that ungodly time of night. I called Jessica (friend from earlier conversation) who was so awesome, she was able to flag down 2 other friends to help us complete this arduous task. Jess's husband was out of town (of course) so we needed someone to watch my kids and someone to watch her kids so she could take me to the hospital. Thankfully I have badass friends who had no problem leaving their nice warm beds at 2am to come babysit. We picked the closest hospital and got lucky that the ER was empty. Within 15 minutes, I was hooked to an IV receiving fluids and nausea medicine. The doctor said I needed to be admitted, so a couple hours LATER, I was moved to my room where I remained for the next 36 hours. It took 4 bags of fluid and untold doses of zofran before I was deemed hydrated and released. My dad was cool enough to come up at 6am the morning post-barfing extravaganza and watch the girls while I recovered.
I almost never get sick. The last time I was sick was right before I got pregnant with Alby and also wound up in the hospital hooked to an IV after another marathon barfing session.
I learned a couple of valuable lessons. One, my friends were not bullshitting when they said I could call them day or night if I needed help. Two, a stomach virus is the most awesome way to drop 2 jean sizes in 4 days. I still don't have my appetite back.
Score one for me.
For those of you who aren't friends with me in the real world (or facebook) I had a rough week last week. Last Monday I had just finished my post-Hoarders house cleaning ritual when I started to feel barfy. Nothing too bad, just mildly iffy. I called a friend and told her I thought I was just tired and hot from cleaning the house and was going to go to bed. About 30 minutes later I started throwing up. The kind of throwing up that only I can accomplish. I did this every 10 minutes for 4 hours before realizing I needed to go to the E.R. I'd been wondering what the hell I'd do if the girls or I got violently ill in the middle of the night and had to go to the hospital. Now I know. First I called my parents who DIDN'T ANSWER THEIR PHONE! I wanted verification that I was indeed sick enough to seek medical treatment before calling around the neighborhood at that ungodly time of night. I called Jessica (friend from earlier conversation) who was so awesome, she was able to flag down 2 other friends to help us complete this arduous task. Jess's husband was out of town (of course) so we needed someone to watch my kids and someone to watch her kids so she could take me to the hospital. Thankfully I have badass friends who had no problem leaving their nice warm beds at 2am to come babysit. We picked the closest hospital and got lucky that the ER was empty. Within 15 minutes, I was hooked to an IV receiving fluids and nausea medicine. The doctor said I needed to be admitted, so a couple hours LATER, I was moved to my room where I remained for the next 36 hours. It took 4 bags of fluid and untold doses of zofran before I was deemed hydrated and released. My dad was cool enough to come up at 6am the morning post-barfing extravaganza and watch the girls while I recovered.
I almost never get sick. The last time I was sick was right before I got pregnant with Alby and also wound up in the hospital hooked to an IV after another marathon barfing session.
I learned a couple of valuable lessons. One, my friends were not bullshitting when they said I could call them day or night if I needed help. Two, a stomach virus is the most awesome way to drop 2 jean sizes in 4 days. I still don't have my appetite back.
Score one for me.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
baby + chocolate cake + red icing = crime scene
Note to everyone. Pick a different cake/icing combination for your child's 1st birthday cake. Even if it means going with white cake and icing when you'd rather eat chocolate. Better yet, get the chocolate cake for YOU to eat and let the baby smash up their own cake in acceptable frosting colors. Otherwise, your sweet little baby looks like an extra on CSI.
Alby turned 1 year old yesterday. It was hard. Not because most people hate realizing their babies are growing up and time goes by so fast and blah blah blah. I actually cannot wait until she's a few years older and no longer cries when placed on the floor. It was hard because I'm once again realizing how screwed over she is. I know second babies don't usually get the fanfare that first babies get. I made Delaney's cake from scratch and put a lot of thought and effort into every frosted fishie on it (the girl was into fish). Alby got a cake from HEB. Delaney had 40 birthday guests. Alby had 5. I've decided to compensate by letting Alby get away with murder when she's older.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Hoarders
I fucking love this show.
Its the most addictive thing on television. It makes you feel normal the same way walking around the mall in Corpus Christi makes my mom feel thin. (which she already is, but sometimes its nice to have visual validation). I've seen every episode of this show and I've made some observations.
1. A&E is doing a shit job of actually helping these people. Seriously. A piss poor job. At the end of the episode, they display a little blurb about what has happened in the months since the show was shot and so far I think I've only seen 2 people who actually got their shit together and went on to lead normal lives.
2. The 'hoarders' can be split into two groups. Group A is comprised of people who are legitimately mentally ill. The poor kid living with his alcoholic father and wanting desperately to be normal but suffered from panic attacks (he was actually one of the most normal likeable people on any episode). The woman who refused to let the trash people haul away a fridge containing nothing but 6 year old eggs and rotting meat. The crazy cat lady with 70-something dead cat carcasses in her garage. The angry woman who looked her grown daughter in the eyes and told her to her FACE that she was picking the house full of garbage over her and her grandkids. Then there's group B. The people who need to be hauled onto Oprah so she can slap the shit out of them. The suburban housewife in the very respectable looking house who LOST CUSTODY OF HER FUCKING KIDS because she accumulated what can only be estimated as 25,000 cubic feet of CRAP. Well, half crap, half trash. When the crew hired to clean out your shit has to use snow shovels to get through waist high piles of trash and rat excrement and you're sitting on the stairs bitching about how you just hope they aren't throwing away anything that you want to keep, its time for your husband to drag your ass to Chicago and sit you down in front of Miss Winfrey for a come to Jesus meeting. Her house was actually one of the ones they got all cleaned out and downgraded from a biohazard to an acceptable domicile for human beings but thankfully the state still didn't give her kids back. Her husband finally wised up and filed for divorce so he could regain custody. It should be noted that the ONLY reason her house was cleaned out was because she finally walked out "not able to handle the stress anymore" and the cleaning crew boxed up everything and cloroxed the ever living shit out of her kitchen. Usually the hoarder doesn't take more than 10 steps away from their beloved piles of crap and not much is accomplished in the TWO DAYS A&E so wisely allotted to cure these people of their disorders. Seriously A&E? TWO DAYS? You think pairing up a sick person with a therapist they've never met and a cleaning crew from 1-800-got-junk is going to fix them? The only person on the show worth anything is the legitimate doctor from the institute of living they bring in to try and give these people the wake up call they so desperately need. He doesn't just 'hug it out' with the guy holding onto the book of tax laws from 1988. He gets in their face and makes sure they realize they have a problem but understands it can't be fixed if they don't want it to be fixed. So far from what I've seen, the majority of these people don't want their problems fixed. I've also learned that for some people, losing custody of your kids isn't much of a wake up call.
That said, I still love the show and it keeps me cleaning my kitchen and putting the toys where they belong and bagging up stuff we don't use to be taken to goodwill.
Its the most addictive thing on television. It makes you feel normal the same way walking around the mall in Corpus Christi makes my mom feel thin. (which she already is, but sometimes its nice to have visual validation). I've seen every episode of this show and I've made some observations.
1. A&E is doing a shit job of actually helping these people. Seriously. A piss poor job. At the end of the episode, they display a little blurb about what has happened in the months since the show was shot and so far I think I've only seen 2 people who actually got their shit together and went on to lead normal lives.
2. The 'hoarders' can be split into two groups. Group A is comprised of people who are legitimately mentally ill. The poor kid living with his alcoholic father and wanting desperately to be normal but suffered from panic attacks (he was actually one of the most normal likeable people on any episode). The woman who refused to let the trash people haul away a fridge containing nothing but 6 year old eggs and rotting meat. The crazy cat lady with 70-something dead cat carcasses in her garage. The angry woman who looked her grown daughter in the eyes and told her to her FACE that she was picking the house full of garbage over her and her grandkids. Then there's group B. The people who need to be hauled onto Oprah so she can slap the shit out of them. The suburban housewife in the very respectable looking house who LOST CUSTODY OF HER FUCKING KIDS because she accumulated what can only be estimated as 25,000 cubic feet of CRAP. Well, half crap, half trash. When the crew hired to clean out your shit has to use snow shovels to get through waist high piles of trash and rat excrement and you're sitting on the stairs bitching about how you just hope they aren't throwing away anything that you want to keep, its time for your husband to drag your ass to Chicago and sit you down in front of Miss Winfrey for a come to Jesus meeting. Her house was actually one of the ones they got all cleaned out and downgraded from a biohazard to an acceptable domicile for human beings but thankfully the state still didn't give her kids back. Her husband finally wised up and filed for divorce so he could regain custody. It should be noted that the ONLY reason her house was cleaned out was because she finally walked out "not able to handle the stress anymore" and the cleaning crew boxed up everything and cloroxed the ever living shit out of her kitchen. Usually the hoarder doesn't take more than 10 steps away from their beloved piles of crap and not much is accomplished in the TWO DAYS A&E so wisely allotted to cure these people of their disorders. Seriously A&E? TWO DAYS? You think pairing up a sick person with a therapist they've never met and a cleaning crew from 1-800-got-junk is going to fix them? The only person on the show worth anything is the legitimate doctor from the institute of living they bring in to try and give these people the wake up call they so desperately need. He doesn't just 'hug it out' with the guy holding onto the book of tax laws from 1988. He gets in their face and makes sure they realize they have a problem but understands it can't be fixed if they don't want it to be fixed. So far from what I've seen, the majority of these people don't want their problems fixed. I've also learned that for some people, losing custody of your kids isn't much of a wake up call.
That said, I still love the show and it keeps me cleaning my kitchen and putting the toys where they belong and bagging up stuff we don't use to be taken to goodwill.
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