Have you seen it?

Since the engagement, I have lost my mind. At the very least, the parts of my mind that allowed me to be a fully functioning member of the human race have gone into hibernation.

I have become a moron.

From the time I wake up in the morning to the time I go to sleep, I think about wedding planning. This leaves little time during the day to remember how to do things such as walk up the stairs properly (without falling) or park in the parking garage (without hitting big, green, support columns). And yes, I have done both.

Normally I am the one who has the common sense. Not so much any more. Last night, after I took a bath and had drained the tub, Deming decided she wanted to investigate the empty, semi-wet bathtub. Adam says to me, "What do you think would happen if I turned on the spa jets?" Normally I would have said, "No way. Do NOT turn on those jets." This time, I say, "I dunno, try it." He pushed the button and from 4 different directions, a combination of not just air, but loud water and air sprayed the cat. We had a soaking wet cat who couldn't get traction on the slippery tub to get out and she was pissed. Why on earth would I have said ok to that?

Today I lost my contact waaaaaaay up in my eyelid while at Target. Not sure how that happens. My eye was tearing up like crazy and I was blindly trying to find it with no luck. I looked at Adam and said, "HELP ME!" He looked confused (and rightfully so). I'm not even quite sure what I expected him to do. Was he supposed to dig around in my eye in the glassware aisle?

At this rate, I am afraid that I may forget to put on pants in the morning before work or may attempt to put two pairs on. I may need (daily) gentle reminders to keep me in line. Hopefully soon enough I will get back to normal and no longer have to ask "What on earth did I just do that for?"

The engagement story

December 25, 2009: Christmas paper strewn across the living room, I thought all of the gift-giving was done for the day. Adam disappeared upstairs and brought back down with him a several pairs of Christmas socks and underneath those was a stack of ring pamphlets. He asked me if I would help give him some ideas for a certain sparkly purchase he was looking to make. I was ecstatic. Not long after that we went shopping together and we found a ring I loved.

Then I waited.

I was looking forward to January 22nd. We have erratic schedules that don't allow us much time off together and it was the first day off that we were going to have off together since Thanksgiving. Clearly (in my head) it was the perfect opportunity to pop the question. I was ready - hair straightened, makeup on, cute outfit. The weekend came and went. No proposal. It was quite funny, really; how "ready" I was for something that was never specifically slated to occur over that weekend.

Fast forward to the weekend of February 6th. From beginning to end Saturday was the perfect day starting with couples massages and ending with a lovely dinner, Wii boxing, and watching Ultimate Fighting. (Yes, I actually enjoy Ultimate Fighting.) I could not have asked for a better day, but still no proposal.

Sunday morning started off like many other Sunday mornings have begun by making breakfast together. We made a big hash brown and eggs meal and then sat in the living room to catch up on our DVRed shows.

After we ate, we were finishing up How I Met Your Mother and he asked, "How was breakfast?"

"Good," I replied.

"You wanna do this again some time?" he asked.

"Sure, see you in two weeks," I laughed.

The next thing I knew, he was on his knee with the ring asking, "How about for the rest of our lives?"


I never thought I would be the type to cry when I was proposed to. Yeah, I was so very wrong about that assumption. Adam says I turned shades of red he had never seen before as I just sobbed and nodded.

When I imagined the proposal in my head, it did not involve pajamas, messy hair, and no makeup. Turns out, I wouldn't have it any other way. It was absolutely perfect.

Operation Tiny Pants - Update

After months of self sabotage, broken promises, and disappointment upon trying to squeeze into pair of pants that I swear I could fit into last month, I finally had enough of my own BS.

At work I was instructing patients how to eat heart healthy and yet I was eating my way through life without regard for what it was doing to my body and mind. The realization that I had not been doing many of the things I was teaching, made me feel like a complete hypocrite.

So I started practicing what I preached.

In no particular order:

• I drank water like it was my job
• I made one plate for dinner and refrained from heading back for seconds (or thirds in some cases)
• I cursed
• I bypassed the Italian buffet at lunch and opted for the salad bar (with dressing on the side)
• I walked to and from my car instead of taking the shuttle - about a ten minute jaunt
• I cursed while I was walking to and from my car

For a while I wondered what I was doing. Perhaps I could blame the weight gain on my aging metabolism and slink back in to the comfort of my sweatpants.

But then I saw results. At first it was half a pound. Whoop-de-doo-da.

Then it was one pound. Better, but still nothing to write home about.

Then two.

I got overly excited and tried to put on a pair of pants that hadn't seen the light of day in quite a while. It wasn't pretty. I couldn't even pull them all the way up. Bad plan.

So I worked harder. It was frustrating, difficult, and if I saw a small child with a milkshake I may have tried to fight them for it. It got bad.

Today I'd like to report great success. I am 8 lbs down and feel better than I have in a long time. This morning the pants that mocked me for years actually fit.

Now my biggest challenge is complacency. I need to sustain the willpower that for two months has kept me from covering everything with cheese.

Today I will give myself a high five. Tomorrow I start the battle all over again.

Happy holidays!

(And don't forget to keep voting! Y'all have gotten me from 3000th place to 94th in just a few days! THANK YOU!)

Fabulous Pet Names Sponsored by The Limited

Vote for Deming's story!

The Limited is sponsoring a contest for pets and how they got their names. I figured it was only appropriate to enter Deming!

From now until December 28th, you can vote for Deming's story on The Limited's website once a day per computer or cell phone. I only have to be in the top 250 to have a shot at winning.

The winner gets a $500 gift certificate to The Limited, an iPod, some music, a photo shoot, and the best part is that they donate $5000 to the ASPCA .

Just click and vote. Then get your co-workers to vote. And your grandma.

Fabulous Pet Names Sponsored by The Limited

Thanks for all of your support!

Christmas Kitty

Well, it's been a year since Deming came into our lives. For those of you who don't know the story, here it is as I wrote it one year ago:

"A few months ago at our apartment complex in Savannah, Georgia, a little cat began to come around. Those who are from there know that there are stray cats EVERYWHERE and they normally are just obnoxious.

I don't usually like cats much, but this one was cute. The neighbor across the hall started feeding her. And with that, came all of the other strays in the area. She said she would take her inside, but her dog wasn't having it.

Adam shook his head every time we walked by the kitty area in disagreement with cat-lady's tactics. Meanwhile I would sit on the cement outside of our apartment and play with her occasionally. Adam would ask me, "You know she can't come inside, right?" I always nodded in agreement.

I resorted to calling her "kitty." I couldn't give her a real name because I knew that she wasn't my cat and she would never be my cat. In fact, we were leaving Savannah soon and I wouldn't ever see her again.

Adam chose to call her names that I shouldn't repeat here. She was always in his way. Between his feet, on his truck, in his truck. She drove him nuts.

Fast forward to December 19, 2008. We were moving out of the apartment and trying to shove everything we owned in our two vehicles. Kitty was having a great time. She was running around us, playing in the leaves, just all over the place. Adam had to remove the cat from the backseat of his truck at one point and I had to shoo her from inside our apt.

We packed up, and head out to Phoenix, Arizona. I have the radio cranked up so I stay alert. I thought to myself, thank heavens no one is here to hear me sing off key. We stopped in Alabama, then again in Abiliene, Texas (where it was sooooo cold). We left in the morning and somewhere along the first part of the day, I walkie talkied Adam and asked him if he was making weird noises. Like a baby crying. He thinks I am bonkers.

Now it's about 5:30 pm. I turn my radio down for some quiet time. And I hear that noise again. This time it sounds more like a cat. Again, I radio Adam and ask him if he is making noises. When he tells me no again, I say, "Ok, we HAVE to pull over, I think I am going crazy."

In Deming, New Mexico we stop at a gas station. I'm looking in the back seat. Then I pop the trunk. Adam opens it and we both jump back. A tarp fell out. I start laughing and then Adam looks closer. There was something moving behind the carpet on the side of my trunk. He peels it back and Kitty is peering at us through the darkness.

I take off like a bat out of hell to get this poor thing some food and water from the gas station. Adam's holding on to her. We couldn't just leave her there. So I volunteer to just let her go in my car. We've got about 5 hours til Phoenix. Poor Kitty. She has no idea where she is at and now while I am driving, she wants to explore. The steering column seems like the best place to be. As well as the dash board in front of my face. And my shoulders.

We stopped at a KMart somewhere about an hour later and get her in a carrier. By the time I get to Phoenix, I am so attached to this stupid cat, I am about in tears when Adam tells me we just have to let her go outside. "She'll be back," he told me.

All day long I waited for her. Adam and I were outside for quite sometime playing the game, Does This Smell Like Cat Pee? She was nowhere. Then last night in the rain, she comes back. I was so happy.

Last night we named her Deming (though I will call her Demi). The litter box will be purchased today. And we now have a Christmas addition to the family.

Stupid cat. :)"

Life brings the unexpected and Deming is no exception. This holiday season as I reflect upon the things I am most grateful for, the hitchhiking kitty lands near the top of the list.




Happy holidays.

Going up?

While helping staff the inpatient pharmacy last night, I got a somewhat frantic phone call from my co-resident, Virginia. "Our flight has been canceled," she said. Say what? We were supposed to be on our way to Las Vegas on late Friday afternoon for a convention and I was in no mood to reschedule flights. I went through the headache of being placed on hold forever and was told that I had 2 options: I could leave at 6:30 Friday morning or I would have to wait until Sunday. Neither option sounded fantastic. I hadn't even begun to think about packing, but on the other hand I really didn't want to wait until Sunday.

I decided to choose the super early option which meant I had a lot to do in a few hours. I flew out the door of the pharmacy and hustled to the parking structure elevator. My mind was racing as I pressed the button for level B. Was my suit clean? Did I have time to go to the bank?

The door closed and the elevator started going down. It passed level B and continued onto level C. Huh. Weird. The elevator hit bottom then started going up again. Once again it passed level B. Um, ok. This was not working out so well. I pushed the lobby button just wanting to get off anywhere at this point. Stopping was not something this elevator wanted to do and my request was denied. I was stuck on a moving elevator.

After about 2 minutes of up and down, I started to mildly panic. As I got close to the lobby level I could hear muffled voices outside. Do I yell for help? I felt kind of stupid yelling so I looked around for the emergency phone. There wasn't one. Great. I pressed the emergency alarm button. Surely someone heard that. As each minute went by my stress level increased. I started to feel really sweaty. The winter coat came off and I clawed through my purse searching for my cell phone. Success! One signal bar was flickering on and off. I prayed that it would be enough to get through to someone.

I called the pharmacy and heard the best thing ever on the other end of the line - a voice! The connection was horrible and Bonnie's voice fade in and out. I tried to keep it simple. "Bonnie. It's Bri. Elevator. Stuck. Send help." All I heard on the other end was laughter (I would have laughed at me too) and "Ok, I'll call for help." Then I waited.

A few more minutes went by and finally the elevator stopped. It was like a scene from a movie. I saw fingers come through the door seam and then it was pried open by a police officer. I burst off the elevator legs feeling like jello. I put my hands on my knees and took deep breaths. Ten minutes of ups and downs was not good for my stomach. "I have never seen that happen," said the officer. Of course he hadn't. This crap doesn't happen to most people.

The officer was nice enough to make sure I got down the other elevator safely. After getting my feet firmly planted on level B I walked to my car and then threw up. Fanfreakingtastic.

Let's hope my luck is better in Vegas.

Offensive

Wednesday morning I woke up early - Not because I wanted to, but because my nose was assaulted by something akin to the smell of burning rubber. My first reaction was to blame the cat. Maybe she didn't bury something that she should have. I peeked into the litter box and Deming was cleared of any wrong doing. Walking down the stairs, I scrunched my face as the smell grew stronger. I opened the bathroom door and the same smell, but stronger this time, punched me in the face. Huh. Weird. I hollered at Adam to check it out when he woke up, then opened the door which leads to our garage. Bam. Another smell-slap.

By the time I got to work, I had concerns that:
#1: Something was wrong with my car. Perhaps a belt or something was rubbing against something else and causing a horrid stench.
or
#2: Some sort of gas was leaking into our apartment.

When I got to work, I started to think that I smelled funny as well. My co-workers (they are the best) did a sniff test, and yes, something was off. Crap. Now I was the smelly one at work and I still didn't know what the cause was.

Apartment maintenance came to the apartment to help sort out the mystery. The man took one step into our apartment and said, "Smells like skunk - you must have hit one."

Ah ha! That would make some sense - I had driven out to the airport on Tuesday night and probably ran over some roadkill. When I got home from work Wednesday night, I parked my car outside (instead of in the garage) satisfied that the problem would be solved with my car getting some fresh air. I walked to my front door and was taken aback that even with the windows having been open all day, I could still smell the offensive odor without stepping inside. Huh. Interesting.

Thursday the smell would come and go. Actually it didn't really go anywhere. It was more like it was bad and then worse. It had to subside soon, right?

Friday maintenance came by again. At this point our neighbors had complained as well. They had walked around our building looking for signs of a skunk and found nothing. Then they said, "Oh wait. What is that crevice under your porch - a skunk den?" Ah yes, a skunk den. Mr. skunk was letting off bombs at it's leisure and the smell was seeping through the entire apartment.

I woke up Saturday morning, made a cup of coffee, and decided to check out this skunk hole. Stepping outside, I first noticed the hole, then right next to it a live trap. "Cool," I thought. I leaned closer to check it out. It was mostly wrapped in black plastic (to prevent spraying, I assumed). It wasn't until I had my face 6 inches away from the trap that I noticed that something was inside of it. (Yes, I realize the fact that the trap door was closed should have been my first clue, but I hadn't had my coffee yet.) I jumped backwards and then strained to see what was inside. I saw a black and white tail. Frick. That's all I needed to see. I called maintenance and at some point today it was taken away and another trap was left in its place.

It was living in that tiny space under our stoop.

If you look closely in the red box, you can see the tip of its white tail.
I was standing on the wrong end of this animal when this picture was taken.

I hope beyond all hopes that this smell goes away before Thanksgiving. However, worst case scenario, who doesn't like to enjoy their turkey with the lingering smell of burning rubber?