Week of Cancer

Two of my very favorite people each lost a parent to cancer this week.

And it hurts.

To see their pain and feel their grief is tough. I want to support and help and make it all better, but that’s not possible. So, I offer up hugs and wine and a comfy couch to hang out on for an evening, with a promise to not talk about the obvious. It’s the best I can do for them right now.

Slow Day

I had a thought
So I started to write
Now the thought is gone
Just like my mind

I hate the rental car
I miss my Ruby
And I need more sleep
More uninterrupted sleep

Thought came back!
We booked a venue
A wedding in November
Ah, we love the rain

We also spoke to caterers
And ate yummy food
And got some sticker shock
But it’s totally worth it

Nine tabs now
Wedding spreadsheet is huge
As is wedding binder
I need a label maker

It’s been a busy week
It will be a busy weekend
SuperBowl on Sunday!
Hopefully I won’t cry this year

That is all

Vengeance Is Mine!

Actually, it’s Todd’s, because he set out the rat traps. And within three hours, he caught one. Little bastard.

I do have a hard time with killing the rats. They’re just trying to survive like everyone else, and if I could reason with them, I would. But I can’t, and they’re causing thousands of dollars worth of damage, so they must be terminated. At least these traps are quick and bloodless.

Kayleigh wanted to set up a cozy little home for them in the back corner of the yard so they wouldn’t have to climb up in the cars to keep warm. That’s why I love her. She cares about the little disease infested rodents. We still said no. Once they made a home there, they’d tell all their little disease infested friends about the really cool hostel they found. And we just can’t have a new rat colony living in our backyard.

On a related topic, here’s the rental car I’m driving.

I asked for the smallest and cheapest car they had.

I feel like a pimp in this thing. It’s a two door, and because the car is so long, the doors are huge and winglike. I literally have to use my foot to push the driver’s side door open. But at least my bitches won’t have any trouble gettin’ in the backseat. Yo.

It is 179.8 inches long. Ruby is 177.9 inches long. Not a big difference, but big enough so that it took me 10 minutes to park in the garage this morning. Todd calls it The Beast.

But it’s got an iPod port!

And I got to drive it in the snow this morning! Because suddenly I live in the arctic where it snows on a regular basis!

WTF?

Par-Tays

I know that TBFE has mentioned our weekend on his post, but I like the throw my $.02 in as well. I dub this weekend "How Did I Do This When I Was 24?".

Friday night was my friend Val's bachelorette party. There was dinner at Julia's on Capitol Hill to start, then dancing at Neighbors, a popular gay dance club. Which is the best place for a group of 10 inebriated ladies to go dancing. Less pressure. No one was interested in us (except for some weirdo who seemed to be interested in anyone who would make eye contact with him). I shook my groove thing for a little while, then I'd sit and watch the gals, then maybe dance a little more. I remember how my knees hurt last year after going out with Rachelle and Val, and I knew I had a big party to host on Saturday night, so I took it easy.

Got home late, stayed up even later, crashed around 2am.

Todd and I were up early on Saturday to shop for the party. Ran around til about 2pm, picked up a little around the house, then actually had some downtime before the deluge of people arrived around 7pm.

Lots o' photos here.

Now, if you've ever been to a party that I've hosted or co-hosted, you know that I appear stressed. I'm really not. I just tend to get a little overwhelmed in the beginning when everyone is arriving faster than I can greet/meet them. At one point, I had my hands full of coats, frantically trying to figure out how to fit them in the closet, when the doorbell rang. Meaning more coats to try and hang. A couple of my friends had been watching me and when the doorbell rang, one asked, "Howya doin' there, Raechelle?"

But once the initial rush of guests is finished, I mingle like a mad woman. As does Todd. In looking back at our photos from the night (thank you, Kayleigh, our budding photographer) I noticed there isn't one picture of me and Todd together. Huh.

Anyway, I met a lot of new people, saw a lot of old friends and actually remembered to eat something in the midst so I wasn't completely out of it come midnight.

And what's a nice byproduct of parties?

Holy crap, anyone wanna come over for a drink?

My Baby Meter

My baby meter seems to be a hot topic of discussion, now that Todd and I are officially engaged.

More specifically, many people are asking "When are you going to get pregnant!?"

(Or most recently, "Are you pregnant?!" To them, I say - Uh, you obviously have not seen me this weekend - bachelorette party (one raspberry lemon drop and three jack-n-cokes) and engagement party (xxx number of glasses of wine, champagne and port)).

So, it looks like I should address the topic point blank.

Todd and I do not plan to have any babies.

Yes, my baby meter was running on high in the months before we met, but when Todd and I started dating, a funny thing happened. I got the family I had been wanting. I have my little girl who wants my help with girly stuff, I have my teenage boy who headbutts me but I think secretly likes it when I put my foot down.

I do not need to give birth to a baby. I still love the babies. Got my baby fix Saturday night at the party and believe that, under the influence, I offered to babysit any freakin' time they needed. But, really. I'm good now. I have my family. And in a mere six years, Kayleigh will be graduating high school and leavin' the nest. The thought of starting from square one and raising a baby does not sound appealing to me anymore. Raising two half grown kids is exhausting enough.

So, now we can focus on the important stuff.
Hows about these shoes?

Die Rats Die

So, I still don't have Ruby back.

I called this morning and was told the computer needs to be replaced. Apparently, it shorted out when I started the car up, so State Farm needs to approve the quote, a new computer needs to be ordered and the car needs to be towed up to the dealership so they can program it.

Fantastic.

At least three or four more days.

I'm getting a rental car today. I'm tired of being dependant on others, so I'll suck it up. At least insurance pays for 80%.

Sigh.

Add that to my already upset stomach and the fact that I have yet another female doctor's appointment this afternoon and you have a very glum Raechelle.

Random Thoughts

TBFE is not alone when he says it's been a shitty week. Something is outta whack and I'm about sick of it. Dinner and dancing tonight with a bunch gals may be just what I need to get back on track.

**********

Speaking of TBFE, he is now feeding me vitamins. Kayleigh witness this last week and said to me, "He spoils you."

Yes, he does.

And the vitamins he feeds me turn my pee neon yellow. Apparently, that's normal.

**********

The smell of Top Raman noodles, chicken flavor, remind me of daytime TV. Must have eaten these alot when I was home during the summer.

Yes, I'm still eating Top Raman for lunch. Six for $1. I'm on a budget.

**********

Ruby is STILL in the shop and I miss her terribly. The mechanic tells me that replacing the cables is tedious work and he's been careful and thorough. I believe him. He's also going to go ahead and replace the rear brake pads. I made some calls, chatted on some car forums and came to the conclusion that the quick wear of the brake pads may not be a warranty issue. It may just be a cheap brake pads/city driving/using my parking brake alot issue.

Whatever. I don't have the energy to care at this point.

But I owe my co-worker Cathi many drinks for carting me to and from work all week. She's a lifesaver.

**********

Our housewarming/now engagement party redux is tomorrow night. Damn Snowpocalypse '08. We did have five people show up at the originally scheduled party last month. They all lived within a mile of us. Hopefully there will be no weather related catastrophes tomorrow.

And hopefully I will be a bit more chipper.

**********

My Holy-Crap-I'm-Actually-Getting-Married wedding spreadsheet now has eight tabs. Venue, caterer, guests, vendors, lodging, questions to ask, oot guests and misc. There's pretty colors, too.

Wedding planner? I don't need no stinkin' wedding planner!

**********

I filled out the paperwork for a passport.
No, I don't have one.

Now I just need to get the photo taken (while I am blemish free) and take it to the post office. Apparently, you can get your passport there.

**********

The Superbowl is coming up and I'm so sad that I don't care. But I'll root for the Cardinals. Cause....well, you know why.

The Cube Life

As you know, I work in a cube now. It’s quite an adjustment. I’m aware that my neighbors can overhear my phone conversations. And the problem isn’t that I make a lot of personal calls while at work, maybe a couple a week (personal admin stuff), it’s that I’m afraid I’m going to say something wrong when I’m ordering something from a vendor (“Yeah, well….your prices SUCK!”) and one of my co-buyers will correct me. I fear being corrected.

And here’s why.

When I was 23, I was teaching ballroom dancing in Houston. How does one get into teaching ballroom dancing?

Slight tangent:
My then boyfriend Matt, my buddy Bob and I were hanging out at our local bar, the Vapor Room. Oh, I have so many stories from the Vapor Room. Anyway, one particular night, there were two or three dance instructors there, teaching swing dancing. This was at the height of the swing craze and the Ernie Savage Revival, a big band, was playing. I guess the manager of the Vapor Room thought having swing lessons would be a cool and profitable idea. And it was. Bob and I got up with group, boys on one side, girls on the other, and learned the basic rock step and turn. I say woohoo!

Well, Bob and I met while dancing at another club, so we were no newbies. We started improvising and Bob starting throwing a kick in there and one of the instructors eventually came over and asked if we’d ever thought about teaching dance. We were dumbfounded. Really? Teach?

We ended up going to the studio to talk with the manager and find out the details. Bob quickly declined when the manager told him he was going to have to cut his hair. Bob’s hair was down to his waist and very red. Dancing wasn’t worth it.

I, however, had nothing else going on. I was going to the University of Houston in the mornings, working at Coldwell Banker as a receptionist in the afternoons and drinking and partying at night. So, my schedule was open.

I continued to go to school in the morning (when I actually got up and went to school) and working in the afternoon (I’m very responsible. Never missed work. Even with the worst of hangovers) and then I’d go to the studio after work and take all of the classes and work with the other instructors to learn the dances and how to break them down and teach them.

And I’ll let a secret out of the bag.

Dance instructors have to start somewhere. Most of them have no idea how to foxtrot or tango when they start. So they take the classes and learn when they aren’t teaching. If you’ve ever taken dance lessons, chances are you’ve had a new teacher who learned that traveling box step mere minutes before you arrived for your lesson. It only takes a few months to get up to speed, but those first few weeks of teaching are stressful.

And here’s the example of why I hate people overhearing me.

I was in my third week of teaching dance. It was around 4pm so the studio was pretty empty as most students didn’t come in until after work. I was teaching my surgeon, who was brand spankin’ new, a foxtrot step. I forget what the step was, but I had just learned it the day before, when the manager was teaching all of us instructors some fancy moves. So, I was all pleased with myself, showing him this new step, talking very confidently because I had JUST learned it and I remembered every detail. And I taught it very well. The surgeon caught on quickly and by the end of his lesson, he had it down.

During his hour long lesson, the other instructors were practicing with each other over on the other side of the room. They were very good at congratulating the surgeon when he did well, but they never corrected me. They never threw in any tips or suggestions on how to perform this move. They just observed and gave praise.

After the surgeon had left, the other instructors erupted in laughter. I, being the newbie that I was, didn’t get the joke. I did good! The surgeon did good! Just what was so funny?

They told me I had taught the step very well, and they weren’t laughing at my ability. They were laughing because that step I had just taught my brand spankin’ new student was a Silver level step.

My surgeon was only at the Bronze level.
The first level.

The steps we had been learning with the manager of the studio the day before were advanced steps. For advanced students. And for teachers.

So now I had this student who know four steps in the foxtrot and one of them was a Silver step, which was going to bite him in the ass at the Friday night student dance party. He was going to pull this fancy move on another Bronze level student and she wasn’t going to know what the hell to do. Thus, making me look like I didn’t know what I was doing.

Fantastic.

At the surgeon’s next lesson, I had to fess up and apologize. I told him that I had gotten carried away because he was doing so well, and had inadvertently taught him an advanced step. He didn’t know enough to think I was an idiot; he just thought I was THAT good. And he felt very special that I had taught him a Silver step.

Now, when I’m on the phone with a vendor, I always expect one of the other buyers to listen patiently while I completely break all of the buyer rules and then erupt into laughter when I get off the phone, and tell me, “Raechelle! You can’t promise to bake the vendor cookies! That’s a conflict of interest! Sheesh!!”

So far this hasn’t happened.
But the fear is still there.

Oh, Happy Day

That's right.
See ya, George!

Or how about, get the hell out of here?

Inauguration Day. A day that normally involves a lot of tears, a lot of drinking (for the wrong the reasons) and research on how to defect to another country.

But not this year. No sir.
It is a great day.

Although, this photo makes me want to puke.




That is WAY too many freakin' people. Cyn is there today. She's got to be just batshit crazy.

I was very happy watching President Obama's speech from the comfort of my cube. I bet it was much warmer in here, too.

Weekend Update

Quite the busy weekend here in Raechelle-land.

Friday night was our normal, routine movie night. And it was great. Trish and Dan came over, we had spaghetti, watched Wall-E. My nerves were frayed for some reason, but other than that, a lovely evening.

Saturday morning, Todd and I got up early and toured the Sanctuary at Admiral, a venue for the wedding. And we absolutely fell in love with it the moment we walked in the door. We had every intention of shopping around, but after getting an email with information about another location and looking at a couple of other websites, we decided the Sanctuary is exactly what we want. So there. Done deal.

Later that afternoon was shopping with Christmas gift cards. I bought four new bras. Crazy, I know. But those babies are $30 a piece, so what better way to spend free money?

Saturday night, Kayleigh went to a sleepover, Tyler had a friend stay over, so Todd and I actually got to watch TV, on the big screen ALL NIGHT. We watched Get Smart, too, which was actually very entertaining.

Sunday morning, Todd went off for coffee and I made the boys french toast while tidying up and doing laundry. I'm so domestic. Then I headed out to meet Jamie for sushi and shopping.

But my plan was foiled.

Did you know that rats eat car cables? I knew this, as Todd had to have his spark plug cables replaced a few months ago. But just like everything else, you think "Oh, that'll never happen to me."

Ruby will tell you differently.

When I got in my car Sunday afternoon, it sputtered. A lot. I called Todd out to get his opinion, and he said, yes, it seems the rats have gotten to your car. Crap. Of which there was a lot under my car, another indicator that rodents were involved.

So, I called Jamie and asked her just how much she loved me and how badly she wanted to see me. She's a good friend, so she drove down, picked me up, and we had lunch at the Blue C in Southcenter (rather than the U Village, like our original plan) and shopped around for a bit. Plan = salvaged.

I took Ruby to the nearest Goodyear center Monday morning (at 8:00am ON A HOLIDAY!) then Todd treated me to breakfast afterwards. Because I was sad and I missed my car (and the money I was going to have to spend) already.

After breakfast, back home to clean up and head to Macy's to spend more free money on some new bedding. But first, a call from Goodyear.

And it was bad.

The rats had apparently not only eaten through a spark plug cable, but also my fuel injector cable. An $1100 part. That requires ("to start with") four hours of labor.

Shoot.Me.

After the initial panic set in, I called State Farm to tell them the situation. Bobbi said she's heard of this before, and yes, it's covered under my comprehensive. Big.Fat.Whew.

But now, a second issue. If you remember, I mentioned a while back that my rear brakes needed replacing. They were down to 30%. Well, now they're down to a ridiculous percent and it's looking like it's a warranty issue. The guy at Goodyear said I have 16,000 miles on my car and my rear brakes should not be that low.

So I've got that on plate as well. Good times.

We did, however, accomplish our mission of new bedding, after sitting on the floor at Macy's for 30 minutes talking about what we liked and didn't. We went from one end of the spectrum (formal, damask) to the other end (casual, rustic). And then we went to Bed, Bath & Beyond and bought a quilt we had noticed a while back. It's got the blue of the carpet and the tan/brown of the walls, and a little red to boot. Perfect!

Sunday evening was dinner and a movie - Southland Tales. Oy. Have you seen Donnie Darko? It's from the same guy, Richard Kelly, which means it's just as weird. The best scenes were the ones with The Rock, swear to gawd. And Justin Timberlake. Yes, I know how that sounds, but Dwayne Johnson (aka The Rock - one of mom's many boyfriends) is hysterical and Justin Timberlake is flat out creepy. And sad. Have you ever seen him on Saturday Night Live? Oh.My.Gawd. He is fantastic.

Okay, I'm starting to sound like a 13 year old girl now, so I'll just say, the movie has some good scenes. But someone also gets shot in the eye, so if you're squeamish about those kinds of things, skip it.

Now you're all caught up.

Cuteness - You're Doing It Wrong

Kayleigh does not appear to like the red blow that I tied in her hair.
Hmph.

The Great Migration

You've been waiting so patiently.....
Okay, here we go!

On December 29, at 1:00am, I flew to Houston. And I somehow, magically got upgraded to FIRST CLASS. I thought I wasn't even going to be able to board, but the ticketing agent finally gave back my boarding pass and whadya know - my new seat was 1B. Right on.

I arrived in Houston, was picked up by Dad, fed bacon by Mom and my other-mother Mary, then passed out for three hours while they did the last minute packing. Awoke, showered and prepared for the godparents and an early dinner.

[The Moms]

[The Dads]

I'm not as upset as I look. There were three different cameras going off. The moms were trying to blind us.

Went to bed early to prepare for the movers early the next morning, but fate had other ideas. I started on the couch, until mom got up to get on her heating pad (in the recliner in the living room). That woke me, but then I started hearing the freakin' grandfather clock gong every fifteen minutes (also in the living room). Shoot.Me. So I went and climbed in on mom's side of the bed (it's a big bed - dad was nowhere near me. Honest.) but dad snores loud enough to make the walls shiver, so after tolerating that for 30 minutes, I went to the quietest room I could think of. Mom and dad's walk in closet. I laid on the floor with a pillow, shut the door and wrapped mom's robe around me. I was asleep within minutes.

Until mom woke me by flinging open the door in a panic because no one could find me at 8am.

Anywho!

The semi-truck came, loaded everything that wasn't loaded in mom's car or dad's truck, and after five hours, drove away. During the load, however, Goober escaped from his kennel and the bathroom, so we were feverishly looking for him and determined not to leave until he came home.

Which he did, as soon as the truck took off. Big whew.

We shipped out at 3:00pm, each vehicle quipped with, among many other things, walkie talkies.

[Now would be a good time to go refill your coffee or pee. Go ahead. I'll wait.]

Around 6:00pm on Dec 29, we arrived in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Where we found a motel and curled up for the night while my other-mother Mary took off on her own and did a little gambling.

Up bright and early the next morning. Free breakfast in the dining room, and off we went!

Tuesday morning, we headed toward Birmingham, Alabama, stopping frequently to tinkle and eat. It was a no rush kind of drive. Except I had the pedal to the metal and cruised along smoothly at 75 the whole way. Mom offered to drive a few times, but I said no. She was now retired and deserved to be chauffeured like the old broad that she is. She knows I say this out of love.

Stopped outside of Birmingham and stayed at the Jameson Inn. Because it had a Starbucks beside it. Mom splurged and go me and Mary our own rooms. On our way back from dinner, I came across a stray kitty. He was crying and he was lovey and I couldn't bear to just leave him out in the parking lot.

Until the hives started.

Then he was on his own.

Up bright and early Wednesday morning (New Year's Eve!), breakfast at the Kettle (cheaper than sin!), cruise control set on 75. Oh, I kid. I don't use cruise control. I like the power.

Drive, drive, stop-n-pee, drive, stop-for-gas, drive, drive, Shoney's, drive, drive.....

Lexington, Kentucky.
Another Jameson Inn.
No stray kitties this time.
But there's a Starbucks!!

We have dinner, at which I sent all parents into a crying/laughing fit by making a scene in Ryan's Steakhouse by acting like a twelve year old because I really wanted ice cream for dessert, but they were all done and just sitting there waiting for me so I felt the pressure to get the hell out of there so I just got a couple of cookies and, by gawd, I let them know I was not happy about it. People stared. I was pleased.

Dropped the parents off at the hotel, cruised down to Liquor World (which was insanely packed), cruised across the street to the Liquor....Barn? to pick up a bottle of champagne. Korbel, but still.....It was New Year's Eve and it is unacceptable to not drink champagne, even if I was alone in my own hotel room, watching Countdown with Keith Olbermann , listening to the big party next door and talking (slurring) to my fiancé on the phone. Unacceptable.

I downed about half the bottle.


Mission accomplished.

Up bright and early, breakfast at the free buffet downstairs, big ass latte from Starbucks and off we go!

[Mary and Mom, in their matching casino sweatshirts.]

[Note of funny – we passed through Jellico Tennessee. Jellico. Say it with a thick twang. Then suddenly become the PR rep of Jellico and talk about how people need to come to Jellico because they have the THE BEST jelly in the land in Jellico. Swear to gawd! Gotta do it with a twang, though. Trust me. My mother will laugh for a half an hour. Totally worth it.]

Okay. Home stretch.

We crossed into West Virginia and the walkie talkie beeped. It was Dad singing "Country Roads".

[From the Barbour Democrat, the local newspaper]

We arrived at Pisswilly Ranch at 4:00 on January 1, 2009. Happy New Year, indeed.

Except....

For the mud. Oh gawd. The mud!

I wish I had gotten a picture of the mud. You can see how angry it made the Scotsman. He punched the mud in the face. Bad mud!!

He's very good at punching things in the face.

Anyway.

We arrived to a new home that had no furniture, no water, no phone, no TV and no internet. Oh, and no cell phone reception unless you drive about two miles up to the top of the hill.

The next day (after a four day drive) I made the three hour trip to Pittsburgh to pick up my sweetie.

[This is the part you’re REALLY interested in, isn’t it?]
[Do you need another break first?]

Todd’s flight arrived around 5:00pm, so that put us back in Belington around 9:00pm, after stopping at my now favorite chain restaurant ever, Bob Evans (home cookin’ and dirt cheap. Love it!).

Now. The scene.

It’s dark. It’s quiet (as the house has no TV – just the radio is playing). Mom and Mary are at the kitchen table, playing cards, I believe, and Dad is asleep in the front room, on the floor, snoring like only he can.

Welcome home, honey.

Introductions were had, hugs were shared and dad was awakened. We all visited for a bit, then retired to our respective rooms and respective air mattresses.

During the five days that Todd was with us, we ate and shopped, and Todd got to impress the folks by putting up towel racks and medicine cabinets. Go, Todd, go. He and the parents got along fabulously, sharing raunchy songs and calling each other names. Yes, he fit in just fine.

We had hoped the truck with the furniture would arrive while he was still there, but it was delayed in Nashville, so the day it arrived was the day Todd had to leave.
And here’s the weather stories to end all weather stories, even bigger than Snowpocalypse 08.

Thursday’s Drive To The Airport.

We had some snow on the ground but nothing compared to what it had done overnight. Our plan was to leave at 7:00am (for Todd’s 12:40pm flight) but Mom came in at 6am and said we needed to get on the road right freakin’ now.

Oh, mom. How bad can it be? Don’t you remember Snowmaggedon 08? Please…

Holy shit.

It was dark. It was pouring snow. Did you know that the roads twist and turn up there! And there are bridges. Lots and lots of bridges. My shoulders ached from tensing up. My hands hurt from gripping the steering wheel so hard. I did 40 mph in a 65 mph zone for an hour because I had no idea where the lane was. I told Todd a few times that if it was no better when we hit 79 (the major north/south freeway) we were turning around and he would just have to reschedule his flight. Dammit.

Luckily, once the sun came up, life improved considerably. I could see more than a foot in front of me and the snow let up a bit. It still made for a rough drive to Pittsburgh, but at least we weren’t in danger of sliding off the side of a mountain.

[Todd was gone, but his size 13 muddin' boots were still put to good use]

So, got Todd to the airport, turned right back around came home. And found the most interesting sight. A bulldozer, pulling a U-Haul truck up the hill to my folks’ place. The mud and ice were so bad, the U-Haul couldn’t make it up the hill. And if you remember correctly, the furniture was loaded into a semi-truck in Houston. Well, there was no way a semi was going to be able to get around the turns of the driveway, let alone, up the hill. So for a very large additional fee, the movers unloaded the furniture onto a U-Haul and brought that to the house. Believe it or not, it only took two trips.

There was quite the assembly line; truck to porch, porch to dining room, just inside the sliding door, dining room to correct room of the house. We were all so worried about the mud that would get tracked in, but there wasn’t a speck on the carpet. The inside team had their shoes off and the outside team dropped off items onto the moving pads that were sprawled out in the dining room. A very organized system.

And very tired men.

After the furniture was delivered, it was time to unpack and assemble. I spent Friday putting mom’s computer together and unpacking her desk. And here is a yet another example of where I get my organizational skills.


We also spent a good chunk of time on the kitchen. And Saturday was spent on getting the living room and front room/dad’s game room arranged. I spent all morning moving the end tables and pieces of the couch. Thanks goodness for a sectional that comes in sections. Much easier.

And Sunday, we were off to the airport so I could return to civilization and my family. The day started like any other travel day, then quickly turned into a drama flick with, as previously mentioned, me running through Newark airport, lungs on fire, backpack flopping around and me yelling “EXCUSE ME! EXCUSE ME!” while running on the moving sidewalk.

It’s truly amazing I didn’t fall on face.

I made it to the gate and ticket counter (while yelling “DID I MAKE IT?! DID I MAKE IT?!”) and a very nice gentleman unlocked the main door for me and ran with me down the jet way to another nice man who banged on the door of the airplane with me. My seat was in the third row from the back of the plane so everyone on board got to see me sweating, panting and wheezing as I worked my way as quickly as possible to my seat. Which was in the middle. Crap.

I don’t know if my lungs have fully bounced back yet.

I arrived in Seattle on time and my bag was the first one off the plane (probably because it was the last one loaded on the plane. And just how lucky am I that my bag actually made it on the plane? Wow). TBFE picked me up and off to the romantic and magical LaQuinta Inn and Suites in Tacoma we did head.

Yes, I’m serious.

I had a buyer’s seminar from 8 to 5 on Monday, and that’s really the only reason I came back from West Virginia when I did. And I knew that after flying alllllll day I would not be able to drag myself out of bed early enough to make it on time. So we had a nice little quiet welcome back evening in a hotel.
Also previously mentioned, the instructor of the seminar was dangerously close to making my head explode come 5pm so that made for a very long day, to say the least.

So yes, two weeks away from home, compounded with a stressful day of flying, compounded with a day long seminar, compounded with complete askewness (yes, it’s a word) in my home, well....Rae-rae had a teeny weenie little breakdown.

But all is good now!

I am back in the rhythm of things (I think), I’ve caught up on all of my blogs, I’ve gone through all of my mail, I’ve updated my Facebook status, I’ve returned my emails…..Yes, I think I’m all caught up.

Whew.

And now, some random photos for you....

[How you hold your roof up]

[Kitty lovin']

[The dedicated smoker]

[Christmas carnage]

[Tired Daddy and Goober]

So Purrfect....

You know I'm neurotic. Oh, but you have no idea HOW neurotic.

So neurotic that after being away from home for two weeks, then running through Newark airport because my first flight was delayed and my next plane was scheduled to leave RIGHT NOW and having to literally bang on the door to an airplane so they would let me in, then sitting for six hours, then staying in a motel in Tacoma, then sitting in a buyer's seminar taught by a woman from Austin who twanged for eight hours at a volume that made my head hurt, then coming home and not being able to find my VERY FAVORITE PILLOWCASE, I collapsed in the chair in the bedroom and cried for a good 30 minutes.

Maybe I should think about some more therapy?

I'm still working on the vacation post.
Haven't forgotten about you.
I have pictures!

Soon. I promise......

I'm Home

But I am tired.
I am fried.
I have no vacation post composed yet.
It's going to be a long one.
Bullets, maybe?

Will post again soon.

Need sleep now.