Aannnddd Memorial Day weekend comes to a close. No wedding. No Ashville. No zoo. No Holden Beach. The past three days have mainly consisted of spending quality time on the couch because I’ve been so sick. At one point I had a fever of 102.2, and all-in-all I had a fever for more than 48 straight hours. It was fun, let me tell ya.

I caught what Allan had. Yes, I kissed and cuddled him, but I suspect that even without doing either of those things, I would have still wound up in the same position. When I was exposed to his germs, I was still recovering from my oral surgery disaster and, well, my body wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of rihnovirus germs.

Allan has a different theory. He thinks when his illness entered my body, it discovered I was a democrat and mutated into something far nastier than what he had. Allan is a republican. And despite that, I still want to marry him.

Speaking of my future husband, he’s about to go out of town for six days. It’s been well over a year since we were apart for more than 16 hours, so this whole six day thing is making me sad. It’s ridiculous, I know, but I’m really going to miss him. I love him. There aren’t enough words in the English language to properly convey how I feel about him. Simply put, I’m crazy about the boy. And the thought of not seeing him is depressing. Le sigh.

But while he’s in Moab recklessly driving over big rocks in small Jeeps with one of his best friends, I’ll be with my mom. Whee. That there, folks, is fake enthusiasm. We’re having our long-awaited girl’s weekend. The one she’s been promising me for eight years. And rather than be excited, I’m anxious. I’m dreading all the nasty comments, the dirty looks and everything else that comes along with having a mother who never has and never will think I look good enough to be her daughter. You’d think after 30 years I’d be able to shrug it off and not let it get to me, but it doesn’t work like that. I don’t work like that. I get hurt quite easily and no one has more power to hurt me than my mother. Well, maybe Allan, but he’s nicer to me than anyone ever has been. Which is reason #4,987,378 I want to spend the rest of my life hanging out with him.



Here’s the thing about love: it drives you to kiss someone who’s sick. You know that by kissing him, you’re going to get sick, too. But you can’t help it because he’s so cute when he’s sick, and, well, you love him. And now you’re sick and feeling like poo.

That’s a true story. I’m wearing bright pink curlers in my hair, I’m sick and I feel like poo. As a side note, the curlers have nothing to do with love or sickness, and everything to do with a wedding we’re going to this evening. More on that later. But yeah, I’m stuffed up and my throat is very raw and sore. Occasionally I sneeze. About a week ago, Allan was bit by a tick. Smart boy he is, he grabbed the tick and stuck it in a freezer bag (where it hung from our refrigerator) and when he started feeling symptomatic, he grabbed that baggie and headed off to a doctor… where he was diagnosed with a cold. Better safe than sorry, right? He stayed home from work yesterday and I had the nicest day with him. It was very mellow and filled with Olive Garden soup and tissues.

One of his cousins is getting married tonight and it’s going to be a fiasco. First, every single thing we planned this weekend – from a trip to Ashville to visiting the NC Zoo – got canceled because of dog issues. We didn’t realize that boarding places would require minimum stays for holiday weekends. Minimum stays put us well over our budgeted spending for this weekend. So, we decided to take Murphy to daycare today and get him all tuckered-out before the wedding this evening. But all the daycares in the area are closed because of all the people boarding for the weekend. They have no room. And here’s where the wedding trip turns into a fiasco: it’s 1.5 hours away, starts at 6:00 (driving through rush-hour traffic to get there! on a holiday weekend!) and dinner isn’t until 8:30. We have to leave no later than 10:00 because our dog will have been home all day by himself. And he will be full of energy because he didn’t go to daycare. And there is a possibility he’ll eat the other couch cushion. “They left me for more than eight hours? When I’m completely full of puppy energy? Those fools! I’ll eat their furniture!” To his credit, he only did that once, when he was five months old and sick and cooped up in the house for weeks at a time. But you never know.


So I think I’m going to suck it up and take him to the dog park for a few hours and try to drain some energy, all the while I’ll be rocking my bright pink curlers. It’s the best way to curl my hair, I swear, but it makes me look like a 73-year-old singleton on her way to play bingo at the church rec hall.

And yes, I just posted a picture of myself without any make-up – not even a drop – on the Internet. And I’m wearing bright pink curlers.


I ate real food, a proper meal, yesterday. It was the first time that happened in a week and I loved every second of it. Coopers BBQ for lunch, then tortellini for dinner. Oh, and a Krispy Kreme (with sprinkles!) for breakfast. I felt okay occasionally splurging on bad food this week because I was only taking in between 800 and 1,000 calories per day. I simply could not eat. So I figure a few donuts, an Italian ice and a milkshake over the course of the week won’t kill me.

I plan to go back to the gym on Monday. I needed to stay home because, well, I was a mess. And my dentist said aerobic exercise wouldn’t be good; the bouncing could dislodge whatever new gum growth was happening in my mouth. Gross enough for you?

Yesterday we got the final verdict from Big, Scary Chain Jeweler and up until now, out of respect and hopefulness on my part, I never mentioned their name. But no more. I’ve officially been screwed by that company.

Jared the Galleria of Jewelry is the store that ruined my engagement ring. That is the store that then replaced it with a ring of lower quality and poor craftsmanship. That is the store that has turned what should be filled with lovely memories into something of a nightmare. So, if you’re searching for Jared the Galleria of Jewelery and stumble across my blog, heed my warning: if their repair center destroys something of value to you, they will not pay for the damage. They will do nothing more than offer you a piece of their jewelry, regardless of the fact that what they have to offer is of lesser quality than what you originally had. And this does not faze them. They do not care. On their commercials, they imply that they understand the significance of something as treasured as an engagement ring, but they don’t. They just care about money.

As a result of Jared the Galleria of Jewelry’s mistake, Allan and I are shelling out more money so that I can have a proper engagement ring. It’s seems unfair and wrong to me, but Jared the Galleria of Jewelry won’t give us the $2,000 we paid for the setting they destroyed.

And I know how lucky I am to have a guy who isn’t letting this disaster stop him from wanting me to have the ring of my dreams… again. Even if it means he has to spend money that, quite frankly, isn’t easy to spend right now.


I’m nearly seven hours beyond my last pain pill and that’s serious progress. Over the weekend, when hour three would roll around, I’d wish with all my heart Father Time would put the planet on fast forward so I could take another 800mg ibuprofen tablet. He was uncooperative.

Rather than get better after my oral surgery, every day I got a little worse. On Sunday after we got back from Charlotte, I found myself in tears, popping generic vicodin to try to make the pain go away. On Monday I had to go back to the dentist and she put some miracle salve in the wound to numb it. My stitches ripped, so rather than heal, my extraction site was becoming larger. She also did some other painful things to help with clotting. Then she prescribed an antibiotic to boost my immune system, but the lack of food combined with the wide variety of pills made me nauseous and I eventually puked. Which I hadn’t done in more than 15 years. Call me an optimist, but I was hoping to make it through the rest of my life without my arms wrapped around a toilet.

I’ve been sick and tired and in extreme pain for the past five days. It was absolutely awful. Today is the first day since Thursday that I’ve felt somewhat human. Allan says it’s nice to hear my voice again.

And I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten a meal since Wednesday, the evening before my surgery. I’m surviving on Ensure, apple sauce, jello and the occasional saltine cracker. Between all my exercising and the lack of caloric intake these past few days, I was able to wear a pair of jeans that haven’t fit over my hips in about a year. They weren’t even close to being comfortable, but I wore them in public. (The others were being washed, dried and shrunk because they were literally falling off.)

So, during my orthodontic appointment this morning (to get my bottom wire put back on), my doctor and I discussed how much I’d love to keep the rest of my teeth in place. It all depends on my bite and how diligent I am with my rubber bands. I WILL BE DILIGENT WITH MY RUBBER BANDS, dammit!

Oh, and how cute is my swimming Murphy, the little (lake) sea warrior dog?



I had oral surgery yesterday… while I was awake! I had the option to go to an oral surgeon so I could be knocked unconscious, but I trust my dentist so much, I didn’t want anyone except her messing around in my mouth. They gave me some Valium to relax my nerves, then they gave me nitrous oxide (which I OD’d on a bit) and my 90 mins in the chair felt like five. And I’m missing two teeth. A big molar on the bottom left, which had to be cut out. And a little molar on the right. I have no bruising, but I look a bit like a chipmunk. Or like someone who had plastic surgery. I spent yesterday pretty much stuck to the couch, in and out of sleep. And although I’m still sore today, I plan to take Murphy for a long walk and resume normal life.

I can’t believe how calm I was about everything, and that’s even before I had to take the Valium. I only got butterflies when I was about to leave for the dentist’s office. I was trying to be rational about the whole thing, and it worked. Ultimately the procedure was no big deal. I didn’t feel a thing, not even any pulling because my dentist is that awesome. The worst part is not being able to eat. After Allan brought me home and deposited me on the couch, he ran to get me some Vitamin Water, Ensure, yogurt and flowers. That’s all I’m going to be able to eat for another day or two. Well, not the flowers. The flowers aren’t for eating. The flowers are because my fiance is a sweet man.

Less than a year ago I was shaking and crying in my car before a dental consultation, and yesterday I strolled into that same office, braces on my teeth, calm and collected, before two extractions. How about that for progress!