I’ve been thinking about death a lot lately. A whole lot. Specifically my death.

Every bump, every bruise, every twinge, every pulled muscle is an early sign of my imminent demise.

With my new exercise routine, I’m using my core muscles a lot, core muscles which, prior to joining the climbing gym, were rarely used.

Pulling and tweaking and straining muscles in the core of my body is terrifying. I’m unfamiliar with the sensations and convinced that there’s something sinister going on with my cells.

These thoughts have been consuming me for weeks and it’s insanely frustrating and stressful and unhealthy. My death is the first thing I think of in the morning, the last at night, and my most common thought in-between.

I was at the doctor’s last week and everything checked out fine. But now I have a new thing, a new, odd sensation in my core, and I’m convinced that it’s something awful. Part of me wonders if I’m feeling this new thing in my body because I got confirmation that everything else is fine. That I NEED something awful to focus on.

I’m debating going back to the doctor. If I do, will she prescribe an x-ray or a psychiatrist?

My grandfather’s dying. Death is a person away from me, which, I suspect, is why I’m being so neurotic right now. I really, really don’t handle death well and I’m being impacted by his death more than I thought I would. I knew I’d be sad, but I didn’t know I’d fight tears any time I mentioned it.

And I’m going up to see him this weekend, which I’m dreading. What do you say? What do you do? How do you act? This is all new to me. I’ve never known anyone who was dying before. I’ve never had a this-could-be-our-last conversation with anyone. I’d rather not do it, I’d rather not have it, and I’d rather not go.

I want to stay home this weekend, away from death, away from where my biggest fear will be beneath my fingertips.

I had a massive, massive headache today. I woke up with it. Before my alarm rang its evil bells, I was awake and dealing with a pounding sensation stretched across my noggin.

I took some Sudafed – I’ve been having a bunch of sinus issues lately – and it didn’t work. I took an Aleve and it didn’t work. Then I went to lunch at a Chinese buffet and what do you know, the pain went away.

But now it’s back, in a milder form.

It’s the weather change. When the weather changes, my head gets upset and aches. We’ve had irregular weather here over the past few weeks – the temperatures have fluctuated between highs in the 70’s to highs in the 90’s. It’s been very strange and, for the most part, very unwelcome.

We’ve had another thing here over the past few weeks, but this thing was welcome. And it’s rude to call it a thing. It’s a him. A boy. A beautiful, red-headed baby boy who I happen to be related to.

It’s my nephew!

Oh, I love that child. Truly, I do. I love that he exists, that he has a gap in his teeth and a crooked pinky finger.

The other welcome thing to arrive this weekend – and yes, it was a thing – concrete! On our lot! In the outline of our house! Allan and I walked the parameter of the footprint of what will soon (eventually) be our house, which was actually kind of special. I’m trying to figure out how to sneak a head’s up penny somewhere in there during the next phase because I’d like good luck to be in the foundation of our home.

You can never have too much of the stuff.

Yesterday ruined the rest of the week for me. Why? Because yesterday was a Friday. And today should be a Saturday.

Yesterday I left work early and I stayed out late with friends.

And now I have three more days of work to get through until the real Saturday shows up on my calendar.

Allan and I had our pre-construction meeting about the house at 1:00 yesterday afternoon. And there’s progress! Kinda! The lot is being prepared for construction. However, we didn’t get the permits in time for the house to be finished in October, so they’re telling us we’ll be in there by Thanksgiving.

Then I went to the doctor to have my ganglion cyst inspected. Unless I want surgery – and the doctor said I shouldn’t want surgery because there’s a risk I’d never be able to move my wrist again – there’s not a whole lot that can be done. I have to suck it up. Or try steroid injections. So I think I’ll suck it up.

Then I got home a little before 4:00 and camped out on the couch with Murphy and Ellen while Allan did Important Work Stuff at the dining room table.

Then we went climbing with our friends and I finally conquered a (wuss) route with a pretty serious overhang. I was that route’s bitch for far too long, so I was happy to knock it off of my mental and physical list. Because I have to face it – at this point it was just as much mental as physical. The next time I’m in the gym, I want to do the route again and I want to do it pretty.

Then we went to dinner at a place that had trivia! We reluctantly played, wrote our team name down as My Couch Pulls Out But I Don’t (which I didn’t initially get), and won the competition. Seriously, out of dozens of teams, we won! We got $100 in restaurant gift certificates ($50 per couple) and a massive Absolut shaker. Needless to say, my night was MADE.

And now it’s Wednesday, not Saturday. Ugghhh.

It’s time for another countdown, Internet. This time the countdown is for the removal of my braces!! Seven weeks until they’re gone.

Right now I’m wearing a network of rubber bands so complicated, I had to take a photo of my teeth to figure out how to recreate it. The rubber bands are part of a final set of tweaks to make my teeth as perfect as they can be, or so says my orthodontist. I have box elastics on my right molars, one stretched diagonally across my left molars, and I’m also sporting the ultimate, most embarrassing rubber band formation of them all: the one situated diagonally across the front of my mouth.


Once these final tweaks are over and done with, which will be toward the beginning of September, I will have impressions made for my retainer. (Yes, only one. Am going the permanent route on the bottom.) When my retainer comes back from the lab, which usually takes about three weeks, these bad boys will be plucked from my teeth and VOILA! Three years of work will be over and my new, perfectly straight teeth will be liberated!


In other news, we have the pre-construction meeting for our house scheduled for Tuesday. Squeee! It’s so weird to buy a house… that doesn’t yet exist. It’s all very abstract. I think the meeting will make things more tangible, more real, more like it’s really happening. And I’m so ready for this to be happening.

I’m very much an impulse buyer. It drives Allan crazier than crazy. So it’s been hard for me with this house – we bought it, but we don’t have it and won’t have it for months and months. And months.

The new house would so come in handy this weekend when we have four extra humans staying with us. That’s right – four extra humans, one extra bedroom. Slumber party time, y’all! Unfortunately that means someone will be camping out on our couch, which I’m sure will please Murphy to no end. Jason – the couch sleeper for the weekend – will be shooing him away with some regularity throughout the night, which means Murphy will have his heart broken with some regularity throughout the night. Nobody wins in this situation.

But I’m happy to have the company. It’s been too long since I’ve seen the most adorable baby boy who ever was (that would be Logan) and I can’t wait to get my hands on him. Plus I’m a pretty big fan of his parents and grandmother, too, all of whom will be with him. But let’s not kid ourselves – Logan’s going to be the star of this show.

Well, hello blog.

Sometimes I feel like I write in here a lot, other times, a little. This summer I’ve been blogging a little.

So, you remember that cyst I had like four years ago? It never went away. It would sort of come and go, but never stayed away for too long. Now that I’m regularly using my wrists in a new, athletic way (rock climbing), the cyst has returned and it’s time to get it removed. It hurts. I think I’m going to need surgery, which should be interesting. I’m assuming it’ll be an out-patient thing. They just have to slit my wrist (ha!), pull out the cyst and sew me back up. I just think it’ll look kinda weird having a scar on my wrist – like it was some sort of suicide attempt gone wrong.

I have a doctor’s appointment in two weeks to get it checked out. Since moving down here, I haven’t had a primary care physician. I went to the doctor a few months ago, hoping that I would like the practice, but I really didn’t. I don’t know how to put my finger on what I didn’t like it, but I didn’t have a good feeling about it. If I don’t feel good about my doctor, why keep going?

But, anyway. I decided to search for a new primary care physician… but I was faced with a conundrum. Where should my doctor be?

I’m moving in the fall, moving to a totally new town. I mean, where I’m moving is still part of the Research Triangle Park area, it’s a suburb of Raleigh, but it’s not Raleigh. I’m not going to live in Raleigh anymore. It’s actually having a pretty big impact on me, more than I thought it would. I’m struggling with it.

I’ve loved living in Raleigh – really, really loved it. And although I’m only moving 14 miles away, it’s going to feel like another planet for a while. I’m going to miss the easy access I have to all things downtown – the restaurants, the parks, the meandering drives through historic neighborhoods. I’m really going to miss it.

I am looking forward to the new town, though. Where I’m moving has a main street – a little, honest-to-goodness main street with boutiques and restaurants and an ice cream parlor. Internet, I’m moving to a small, southern town.

All the rambling is basically to tell you that my doctor’s appointment is close to where I’ll be living in the fall as opposed to Raleigh. Scheduling the appointment was a small step in the direction of my big move.


The picture below this post is of Allan’s grandparents who celebrated their 65th wedding anniversary over the weekend. They had an Elvis impersonator at the party. I’m not even kidding.

I want to be where Allan’s grandparents are in 65 years – still holding hands with the love of my life.