Well…shit

So, in case you haven’t heard, I got married! It was the best wedding ever!! I’m so happy with my husband, he is amazing and I couldn’t be more excited to spend the rest of my life with him. I guess I need to come up with a new nickname for him since FH stood for future husband and we are now official. I’ll have to think on that.

However, this post isn’t about the wedding or our marriage but rather our honeymoon. We decided to have a bit of a ‘stay-cation’ for a week to recharge after the wedding. I’m looking forward to being lazy with my husband. Since we decided to not go overseas for our mini honeymoon (currently we’re planning on a longer honeymoon in February somewhere tropical) we thought we should find a pet-friendly place to rent so that we could bring our puppy. Yup, we’re those people. He was a little confused about everything that was happening and he stayed with one of our neighbors for the wedding, so things were already out of his usual routine. Ranger is a good puppy, and we packed him up and all our stuff and headed off to Delaware.

It was a long drive, about 2 ½ hours. It’s not too bad and luckily we had the Preston & Steve podcast to listen to on our way. After driving through the middle of fucking nowhere, we finally made it to the rental office. It was closed, of course, but luckily they left the keys that we needed in a box for us and we were able to get them and get into our place. As per usual, when in a rental, FH and I wandered around and checked everything. Before we did this, I took Ranger on a walk around the area so he could do his thing. When I brought him back, we let him wander around. This turned out to be a mistake. Although he is well trained, when Ranger gets sick, he doesn’t always communicate well enough that he needs to go outside. So we didn’t realize that he needed to go out. He has had a few stressful days and also had some treats given to him that he wasn’t used to, so it wasn’t surprising that he wasn’t feeling well. What was a bit surprising was when I was walking between all the rooms upstairs and realized that there was shit on the floor…And I had stepped in it. And kept walking around. So, yeah. That’s kind of how our honeymoon started. Us on our hands and knees cleaning up dog shit from the floor and our shoes. Not the best way to start our vacation.

On the plus side, FH really stepped up to help with the mess. I feel like it is a good sign to marriage. Instead of blaming the pup, or refusing to help, he stepped right up, got down on his hands and knees and helped clean up the shit. He’s a good man, my husband. I am lucky to have found him. We fell in the mutual weirdness called love. And a little shit isn’t going to put a damper on our honeymoon.

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Unnecessary Goldfish Bribes: The Kindness of a Stranger

This past weekend I traveled with FH to Chicago to watch my best friend get married. I was very excited to celebrate with her – especially because I initially did not think we would be able to make the wedding. It’s not cheap to fly somewhere, but thanks to the assistance of a guy at the airline, the tickets were going to cost us $200 total for both of us round trip. TOTAL! This awesome deal led to FH agreeing that we could attend their wedding. Yay!

All last week I went through and mentally planned out the trip – what our timeline would be, what needed to be packed, what we would do with the cats, and who would be watching the puppy. Ranger got to go on vacation too and spent the weekend with my brother, his wife, and my three adorable and energetic nieces. Ranger is still exhausted. Since we were only going to be gone for a little over a day, and cats are pretty low-maintenance, we decided to give them extra food and a few extra bowls of water. We had a pretty good grasp of how the weekend was going to play out and what we would be able to do during the trip, so the timeline was under control. The only thing left was to pack all our stuff so we could catch our flight the next day.

Well… we didn’t end up packing the night before. Our flight being at 1:30pm, I let myself talk myself into not packing on Thursday. So we woke up on Friday and I was rushing from room to room, trying to deal with that AWESOME trait that I inherited from Dad where I feel physically ill at the thought of leaving the house for an extended period of time. (Thanks Dad). We got everything packed up and managed to leave the house on time with only two bags, one to check and one carry on. Traffic wasn’t bad, we got there with plenty of time to spare, and we got in line. And waited. And waited… and waited. And even though we got there and were physically standing at the airport an hour before our flight, we didn’t get checked in until 40 minutes before. And you need to have 45 minutes to check a bag apparently. I have never heard this rule before, it wasn’t listed on their website, and it wasn’t like we weren’t there… we just were stuck waiting for 20+ minutes because there were two people working the desk and one of them was stuck sorting out some issue with someone else.

So we started off our trip a little annoyed. The lady told us that we couldn’t get on our flight with our bag and that we would have to wait for the next one. It was only an hour wait, which wasn’t too bad… but because we had to switch flights we were all the way in the back of the plane and we wouldn’t be sitting together! I know it’s not a long flight, but I was very unhappy at the prospect of sitting with strangers, especially because I’m not the best flyer, particularly during takeoff and landing. I like to clutch someone’s hand, and I feel like strangers rarely are okay with that. We were told there wasn’t anything to do but ask people to trade seats. Awesome.

We found our gate and discussed what we should do and the option of bribing someone came up. We realized we actually had many items to barter with – apple slices, goldfish crackers, and even tiny bottles of alcohol (yup, you can get those through security as long as they are less than 3.4oz under a certain proof, and can fit in a clear quart-size bag) – so we went into the situation feeling like a seat change was quite possible. Once our plane started boarding I began asking different people around us if they were in aisle 32. We found one guy that was, but he was on the ABC side and we were on the EFG side. He told us that the goldfish crackers would work on him, but again, there wasn’t much point switching with him.

It was beginning to look like we actually would be stuck sitting apart. Then we get down to our row and the guy I was going to be sitting next to was already in the seat. So I ask him if he would mind trading seats with my fiancé so that we could sit together. And he asked if FH had a window seat. We looked at our tickets and our hearts sank. We both had middle seats. Who would option for a middle seat when they have a window?? I explained to the guy that no, FH’s seat was a middle seat… but that we could offer him some alcohol, goldfish crackers, or apple slices if that could persuade him. I gave him my very best pity-me-because-we’re-not-sitting-together-but-I’m-a-nice-person-and-maybe-you-could-be-nice-too smile. And shockingly, this stranger agreed to trade seats with us. He ended up refusing all my bribes. I thanked him profusely, and I think he was actually a little embarrassed about it, but it is so rare that people are NICE. The goldfish bribe ended up being unnecessary; it was just the kindness of a stranger that helped us out on Friday. So, on the off chance you are reading this stranger… thank you again.

Why Yes, I Did Go Shooting in a Tiara

Last night was my bachelorette party. My head hurts a bit and my stomach is kind of so-so, but I had a blast, so that is what counts. My phone is also rather sticky due to a spilled margarita – it happens.

As I prepared for the party I struggled with what to wear. On the one hand, as a bride-to-be, I feel like I should wear white. But the first thing planned for the party was to go shooting, so I thought white might get dirty. But I still wanted to be fancy, so I put on my new blue dress and topped it off with my tiara. Yup, I headed out to go shooting in a dress and my tiara. Once I arrived, I had to take off the tiara in order to put ear protection on, but it’s the thought that counts. I did learn that wearing a low cut dress is not the best idea. This revelation came to me after a hot shell fell down my shirt. Plus I got a little dirty in the boob area…lesson learned.

Shooting was a lot of fun. I haven’t been for a while, so I decided to start out with my P22, which really is an adorable gun. I did a few mags on that one, and then tried out FH’s PK380 – which was okay for a bit until it stopped firing. This was something FH warned me about. He suspects that the ammo is the cause, but I didn’t want to take a gun apart and clean it out at the range, so I switched to another gun. I bought a box of ammo for FH’s .45. That was a lot of fun, it’s totally a hand cannon. But I did not get punched in the face! Yay me. I also tried out my brother’s .22 handgun (which I suspect he never cleans because it jammed on me over and over) and his .22 rifle, which was fun. My other brother lent us his shotgun. And oh man. My shoulder is killing me today. I did three rounds and my little brother was going to show me how to load more, but I told him I had had enough with that gun. It was really powerful and awesome, but I’m definitely feeling it. I’m kind of glad I didn’t take the guy up on his offer to let me shoot a machine gun. Maybe next time.

After shooting we hung out at the house for a bit before dinner and then afterwards we went to karaoke, which was a blast! As a group we sang Bohemian Rhapsody and later on, Under the Sea. I was given a shot on the house, which I probably shouldn’t have done, but it was my party and I’ll puke if I need to! (Side note – I actually didn’t throw up once, I’m very proud). All in all, I had a great time and I’m so thankful that I was able to celebrate with my sisters and brother and my bestie! And if anyone wants to go do more karaoke or go shooting again, I’m totally up for it. I might even bring my tiara.

Wedding Planning (The Wedding is Coming…)

For months now, I have been planning my wedding. Well, really… let’s be honest. I’ve been planning my wedding since I was a little girl. But now that the ring is on my finger and I have my Future Husband by my side, things are much more real. You know how people say that planning a wedding is stressful? IT TOTALLY IS!! Part of the reason that I haven’t written anything on this blog for a while is because of the wedding planning taking up so much of my time.

Through this whole process though, I’ve been trying to focus on what is important. Getting married is a lot of fun, but the whole point of it is to get married and be married. Share your life with someone, declare your love, get that happily ever after… but it’s hard to focus on that all the time. You can’t help but focus a little bit on the fact that you are throwing one hell of an expensive dinner party.

There’s the venue and the food and the drinks and the cake and the flowers and the music and the decorations, the photographers, the videographer, the florist. There’s the people – figuring out bridesmaids, groomsmen, an officiant, flower girls, a ring bearer. Determining what everyone should wear, who should speak, who will walk with whom. Then there’s all the little things like who should be the emergency contact on the day so people aren’t blowing up my phone, transportation on the wedding, when the photographer should get there, when the videographer should get there, who will be in charge of making sure everyone has eaten so no one faints at the ceremony. Then there are post ceremony things to worry about, like who will collect the frames from the tables and who is in charge of storing the presents. What will we do with this decoration or that one, do we care if people take them? What party favors will we give the guests? What will we give our bridal party as gifts? There’s SO MUCH STUFF.

People keep asking me what shoes I’m going to wear, what I am doing with my hair, where I’m getting my makeup done…and I just don’t know. I almost don’t care. I’m probably going to wear sneakers for my wedding so I don’t irritate my fragile knee. And hair and makeup? I never do my hair beyond brushing it and washing it. I don’t have a hairdresser that I go to, and besides I’m staying at the hotel the night before, so I would want somewhere close to that. Makeup? What kind of look am I going for? Do I want a smoky eye or a more natural look? Will I do it myself, or have someone come and do it for me? You know what the answers are to all of these questions? I don’t know.

So all of these thoughts have been swirling around in my head and I get asked on a daily basis how wedding planning is coming along. Only no one *really* wants to know, they’re just being polite, at least for the most part. There are a few people that actually do care and are willing to provide feedback and help out where they can, to those few I’m super grateful, although I don’t always show it. For example, the other day the Crazy Lady gave me a call and started off with her thanking me for keeping calm and not becoming a bridezilla or anything and how proud and surprised she was that I’ve been so Zen about the whole thing. Well, she called right after a bunch of shit hit the fan…so I spent the next twenty minutes bitching about all the things that are going wrong and what hasn’t been taken care of that needs to be and how FH is being stupid and how everyone is being stupid and blah blah blah. And I basically proved her wrong on the whole ‘Zen’ thing. But really, it was almost like she was asking for it.

Worried Sick

You know that phrase? Worried sick? Well, I always thought it was a phrase and nothing more. That is, until last week when my precious puppy got sick and I didn’t know what was wrong with him.

It started out with him having diarrhea, which is gross but something that comes up from time to time when he gets too much people food or what have you, so I wasn’t overly worried. This started last Sunday. When the diarrhea continued for another day, we decided to put him on the bland diet, which is a rice/chicken mixture that is supposed to help unhappy puppy bellies. We did this for two of his meals – the third he wouldn’t even touch. At this point his diarrhea was no longer icky brown, but dark red. My little puppy was pooping blood. In addition to this, he was throwing up. I was understandably freaked by this point and was planning on taking him to the vet if he didn’t seem better the next day. After all, we had taken him to the vet for his annual checkup the Friday before he got sick.

In order to keep an eye on the pup, we put his crate in our bedroom on Wednesday evening. We woke up around 3am to find that he had tore open his pillow and thrown up all over it and his crate. It was a mess. We pulled up the rugs in our bathroom and closed him in there while we figured out what we were going to do. It was 3am – obviously the vet wasn’t open. FH and I talked about taking him to the emergency room. I decided to give them a call and try to figure out if we could wait until the morning.

I called up the emergency room and told the woman that answered the phone what the situation was. She said that he definitely needed to be taken to see a doctor, but that as long as he was breathing okay and was still relatively responsive, that we could wait. I checked with her to find out how much it would be if we were to bring him in to the emergency room and her answer was $150 to get in the door. I told her I would talk it over with FH and make a decision.

We went to check on the pup and the bathroom was already covered in blood shit and foamy vomit. I felt so bad for the little guy, but he was breathing okay and still responded when we said his name or asked him to come over to us. We decided to wait for the morning, but I was still really nervous about leaving him, so I set our alarms to go off every hour in order to check on him. Every hour the bathroom became more and more covered with grossness, and I felt physically ill worrying about him, wondering if I was doing the right thing by waiting a few hours to take him to the vet.

The vet opened at 8:30am. We were there by 8:15am, sitting in the parking lot with a very unhappy puppy. When the doors opened, we had to wait since we did not have an appointment. A tech came out and did a quick examination of him, said that he wasn’t dehydrated and that they would try to get us in as soon as possible. (Side note: you can check to see if your dog is dehydrated by pulling up on his scruff, if it stays up or takes a long time to go back down, the dog is really dehydrated. You can also check their gums – as long as you can run your finger along them smoothly, they are good). Ranger mostly sat under my chair while we waited, but he got up once and did his I-gotta-poop dance, so we took him outside and he pooped some more blood. A little while later, he threw up on the floor of the waiting room. It seemed like forever, but we finally were shown to a room.

The techs checked his temperature – it was actually a little low, and they took some of his blood to run tests. They asked us to move to a smaller room since they needed to weigh a big dog and we were in the room with the big dog scale. Ranger was so exhausted he made no move to get down from my lap where he was sitting, so I carried him over. Mind you – Ranger does not like to be picked up and certainly does not enjoy being carried around. The doctor came to see us after another long wait and said most of his blood work was normal, there was a slight elevation in something (I can’t remember) that concerned her a bit. She gave us the option of trying medication to see if we could fight whatever was wrong with him that way, or we could get an x-ray to make sure there wasn’t anything wrong with his insides. She advised us that the x-rays shouldn’t be our first choice because of the high cost and because there could be a million things causing his upset stomach. We took her advice and decided to try medicine first. She ordered fluids and some medication to be given to him subcutaneously (under the skin – it made him a hunchback for a few hours). She also wrote us a few prescriptions including antibiotics, something to coat his stomach before we fed him, and something else that I don’t remember what it does. We were instructed to give him a special diet for a few days and see how he does. If he was still having the same problems in two or three days, we were instructed to bring him back and we would do x-rays and further tests.

It was quite an ordeal, but I’m happy to report that Ranger is healthy again. He is still on his special diet for a few more days, and he has two more days on the amoxicillin, but he is back to his old self. What was frustrating was that the vet said we may never know what really happened, his issues could have been caused by so many different things. But we knew how to treat it anyway and the pup is better, so that is what counts. I had a horrible sick feeling in my stomach for days while trying to get the puppy better. I really get what ‘worried sick’ means now.

How to Give Your Cat A Pill: A Short Narrative

I know I just did a post about the cats, but I need to share. It’s been established before that my cats are jerks. The conflict between ZimKitty and DibKitty has been going on for what seems like forever. I discussed some of the things that we’ve tried to get them to get along, one of those things being medication. Now, giving medication to a cat is no easy feat. In fact, it is nearly impossible. Let me elaborate.

The first medication that we started Zim on was back in June I think. (Yep, this has been going on for over a year). How I gave it to him was, I would lock him in the bathroom with me and basically sit on him. Not all my weight – but I had my legs tucked around him with my feet connected so he couldn’t scoot out from under me. Then I would squeeze the sides of his mouth to make them open with my left hand and stick the pill as far back in his throat as possible with my right hand. More often than not, this failed and he would spit the pill out. So I would sit on him again, and shove the pill down his throat again, and watch him spit it out again, until it was so dissolved from his saliva that I would have to get a new pill. I tried holding his scruff with one hand and shoving the pill down his throat with the other, but more often than not he would scratch my arms up with his back claws and I would get all bloody and he still wouldn’t have had his pill. The fun thing was that the first medication didn’t even work. If anything, Zim became more aggressive.

The vet suggested a different medication and I requested it in a liquid form because I thought that would be easier. Just squirt it in the back of his mouth, right? Well it wasn’t quite that simple. I tried just holding his scruff with one hand and squirting it with the other. That didn’t work. Then I remembered that when he was a kitten we wrapped him in a blanket in order to give him antibiotics. So I gathered the same blanket that I used before and swaddled him in it. I wrapped him up nice and tight. Then I tried to squirt the liquid in his mouth and he kept moving enough that it got everywhere but in his mouth. It got on the couch, the towel, my pants, my hands, my arms, my face (once when he coughed it up seconds after I sprayed it in his mouth), and on the cat’s fur…it was a mess. I tried putting it in some wet food, but he didn’t like that at all. I didn’t notice any change in his behavior, so I gave that up as well.

Then on Friday we were at the vet for the animals’ annual checkups. That’s how I spent my Friday night – hauling three cats and a dog to the vet, so much fun! Anyway, after Zim had sliced my hand up pretty well with his back claws the vet asked about his aggression. (This was a different doctor than the one we have seen in the past). We told the whole story about the progression of his aggression problems. The vet suggested a stronger medication. She said that there was a small chance that he would have a negative reaction to the medication, but that it was unlikely, and at this point we’re kind of desperate for some harmony in our home so it’s worth the risk. So I asked if she had suggestions on how to give the pill to the cat since it has been so challenging in the past. And she mentions pill pockets. And OH MY GOD they work SO WELL!

The pill pocket is a treat that looks like a tiny volcano. You put the pill in the center and the pinch it at the top and it is completely surrounded by a treat that the cat just devours! I almost cried it was so easy. I don’t know why no one told me about this before, but I feel the need to tell the world. Maybe this time, Zim will react well to the drug, stop being a homicidal jerk, and my home will be at peace once again. Even if it doesn’t work, the world needs to know. Pill pockets – what an amazing creation. Tell everyone. THIS is how you give a cat a pill. So amazingly easy, I’m already feeling more peaceful.

Cats Are Jerks

So back in February I started a blog post about how cats are jerks. I didn’t finish it then, but after the events of last night I was inspired to write. What happened last night? Well, let me tell you…

First, a bit of background: I have three cats. There was an incident where one cat tried to kill the other cat and they no longer get along. Like cannot-be-in-the-same-room sort of not getting along. I’ve tried just about everything to get these cats to behave in a civilized manner. I have discussed the problem on Pet360.com, I was directed to Jackson Galaxy (the cat whisperer)’s site and learned all about reintroducing two cats. It doesn’t seem to work for mine. So DibKitty and ZimKitty cannot be in the same room. We have an extra bedroom on the third floor that we keep one of them in and we have a baby gate set up so they can be close while eating their food but not touching. Every day I swap them out in one way or another. If I’m working from home I’ll let Zim out on a leash and bring him into my study with me. If I’m in the city, I’ll usually put Dib in the room before bedtime and then before I leave for work I switch them again. Since Zim is the instigator of these problems he tends to spend most nights in the room. If possible, I like to swap them every couple of hours so neither of them is stuck in isolation for long, but it doesn’t always work out that way. It’s a huge pain in the butt, but I’m not sure what else there is to do. We’ve tried medication, we’ve tried herbal remedies, and we’ve tried over and over and over again to reintroduce these cats. I’m kind of beside myself, but I’m not the type of person to give up easily and I’m certainly not the type of person to just drop my cat off at the shelter when the going gets tough. So, the two cats do not get along.

When I feed the cats, I have them eat their food on either side of a baby gate. We got said gate off of craiglist and it’s incomplete, so it kind of just balances there and isn’t secure. Usually I sit beside the cats while they eat their food to watch their behavior and see how things are going. Recently, I’ve taken to leaving the door open just a little bit with the gate still up so that the cats can spend a little more time seeing the others without being locked up tight. FH has warned me that this is a bad idea, but I don’t listen. Last night, I forgot that I had left the door open after I put Dib in the room. We went to get dinner and when we got home we went to bed and that was that… until around 2am when Dib leapt to freedom. I heard the baby gate crash, the sound of food bowls going everywhere, the sound of cat feet running around the house, and then to top it off, the sound of two cats fighting to the death. AWESOME. So I had to get out of bed and go find the cats and put one back in isolation at two in the morning. Like I said, cats are jerks. And now the very expensive bowls I bought for them are broken. I’m kidding, we got them at the dollar store. Still, now we need to get them new bowls. Bunch of jerks.

So that was last night. Below is the original post that I wrote back in February.

Cats are Jerks. There, I’ve said it. I’m sure that the majority of people out there (both cat owners and non-cat owners alike) can relate. There is plenty video evidence to support my claims. Why am I exclaiming this today? Oh, there is a very specific reason. You see, I’ve been working remotely and since there is no one home most of the time to take care of me I have to take care of myself. This means some creative solutions to all sorts of situations. But one relatively simple solution is to fill bottles of water to bring to my desk as opposed to a cup. Because a bottle of water can easily be put in my hoodie pocket or a backpack or if I’m lucky, it’s one with a strap that can fit around my finger. This allows me to use my crutches and have water! But Mondays are different.

See, FH has Sundays and Mondays off from work. So he’s home when I’m working. And, okay, I guess I bug him a bit when he is around. (I only nag because I love you. And because you don’t do what I ask the first time). Today was just like any other day, I asked FH to bring me tea supplies and fill up the coffee pot with water so I could make tea. Then I pretty much left him alone. (Well, after I asked him to clean the tub and mop the floor…) Because I’m a super nice and wonderful fiancée I offered to make him lunch when I made myself lunch. Afterwards, I requested a bit of help bringing up the cup of water that I had been using during lunch. So he brought the water upstairs and put on my desk.

Here is where cats are jerks. I know that they walk on my stuff. I know this. I know that they stick their little heads in my cups to drink my water. I use preventative measures like putting a piece of paper over the top of the water when I walk away. Cat barrier. I had some fruit on my desk from this morning and when I went to eat it I realized that someone (GirKitty) had bitten my grapes and a few strawberries. What a jerk. I avoided the parts that he had gnawed and ate my fruit. I drank a sip of water and determined that I had to empty my bladder. So I left my office and crutched over to the bathroom. About two seconds after I had pulled down my pants I heard a crash followed by a sound of rushing water.

Sitting there I knew that one of two scenarios had just played out. Either the cats had finally knocked over my plant that has a substantial amount of water in it and spilled it. Or they had knocked over my cup of water sitting on my desk. Sitting on my desk right next to my computer and several other electronics. Guess which it was? Like I said. Cats are jerks.

Luckily the computer survived the incident in February and I learned my lesson about open water. The food bowls did not survive last night’s incident, but I would say once again I have learned my lesson. All in all, it’s safe to say that without a doubt, cats are jerks. Just look at how broken the bowls are!

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To the People with Their Cell Phones

Last night FH and I went to see the new Fast and the Furious movie. It wasn’t great, and in a way I’m glad because if it was a great movie I would have been even more upset with the entire theater for ruining my movie going experience.

First of all, we went to the Movie Tavern. This is a ‘movie going experience catered to adults’. It says so all over the place. So imagine my surprise and disappointment when we arrive in the theater to see that the place is packed with elementary-age kids. Their parents accompanied them, so technically this was allowed. But it’s not a kids’ movie, not at all. These kids had no business being in that theater in the first place. When I go see a kids’ movie in theaters I have to accept that there will be children there. But the Fast and the Furious movies do NOT fall into that category. So I was a little pissed off. Oh, and there was a baby there too. Like, probably had just-learned-how-to-hold-her-head-up baby. Funnily enough, the baby was better behaved than all the kids, and most of the adults in the theater. So thanks to the parents out there who decided to take their kids to an adult movie, you helped to ruin my movie-going experience.

Now, for those of you that do not know, the Movie Tavern is an awesome place. Or I guess I should say was. I cannot remember the last time we went there and had decent service. Yes, I know that it is a challenging environment to work in, but that doesn’t excuse ignoring the little button that is supposed to alter you that we need something. It doesn’t excuse not bringing out our food for 45 minutes while everyone around us that ordered after us got their food first. It doesn’t excuse not bringing us silverware or proper napkins. It’s not cool. This was also a contributing factor to making last night more frustrating than enjoyable.

Finally, the people with the cell phones: WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM??? Is it that important to check Facebook while you are watching a movie multiple times?? It is that important to be texting with your friends? There is NO EXCUSE for this kind of behavior. There is even a fucking message at the beginning of the movie asking you to not ruin the experience for everyone else by using your phone during the movie. But of course, most people had their faces bent over their phones during this message and missed it. But really? I mean, really… what makes you think this is an okay thing to do? Do you not understand where you are? Do you not realize how disruptive a cell phone is? You are being extremely rude. Go home, you do not deserve to be out in public if you cannot behave.

It was so bad that not only did FH turn to the guy next to him and ask him to put away his phone, to which he got a snide comment back, but after the movie I went over to a woman that was sitting in front of me and told her that when she uses her phone in the theater she is being rude to everyone sitting behind her. She gave a half apology, but then made a rude comment behind my back that FH heard. We ignored it and left. No point getting into an argument, I said my piece. Maybe she will realize that she contributed to ruining the movie for us and who knows how many other people.

On our way out we stopped in the bathroom and I saw the lady that I spoke with and the other two people with her. The one girl (guessing the daughter?) glared at me the whole time. And I stared right back at her. If she wants to say something, let her. But have the fucking guts to speak up. I know that I was in the right. I was shaking with anger at the end of the movie, but I just said my piece. I didn’t raise my voice, I just told her that she was being rude that her phone is something that everyone behind her could see and it wasn’t okay to use during a movie. I think that I was well within my rights. I didn’t escalate it even though I really did want to punch the blonde that was shooting daggers at me for speaking up. I kept my cool.

But I really do want to know… why do people think this is okay? How is it fair that I have my movie going experience ruined because people can’t put their fucking cell phones down for two hours? If you don’t have the attention span to sit and watch a movie without another tiny screen in front of you, then don’t go to the movies. It’s pretty simple. There are some highly anticipated movies coming out this summer that FH wants to go see in theaters and I have to say, I’m not so sure I want to go. It can’t be good for me, all this anger boiling up. And who’s to say that any movie going experience will be any better than last night’s? I should have just stayed home and read a book.

Grandma’s Birthday – April 4th

For a lot of people, Saturday April 4th will simply be the day before Easter this year. For me, it is the first time we will not be celebrating Grandma’s birthday. It would have been her 100th. I was pretty excited about it and was toying with the idea of throwing her a big surprise party with family from California and everything. But she passed away last spring and so the party isn’t happening.

There are so many awful things that you go through when you lose someone close to you. One of the worst is that people stop understanding. I lost my Grandma almost a year ago and it is a little easier to think of her without wanting to cry, but it still happens. For the first few days and weeks people understand that you are feeling a great loss. But then they forget, or expect you to have gotten over it already. It makes it so much harder.

I still find myself thinking about how much she is missing. I look at my nieces and I wish Grandma were able to see how adorable they continue to be, how the eldest is really coming out of her shell and maturing at school. I wish she could have met the newest addition to the Bentrim clan, Amelia. I wish Grandma could be at my wedding. I wish she was still here, I miss her.

I know she is in a better place. I know that 99 years is a pretty damn good run. I know that she died at home with those she loved and that she went quickly and painlessly. But despite all of this, I cannot help but be a little selfish and feel how my life is different – a little emptier – now that she is gone. Happy Birthday Grandma, I wish you were still here.

Just Because it’s Valentine’s Day…

I’m a sucker for a good chick flick. I love Disney movies and the happily ever after that goes with them. I’ve been on the lookout for THE ONE since I was old enough to understand what that meant. I was convinced that I would fall in love with a handsome prince who would whisk me away. I picked up the habit of kissing the occasional frog (literal frogs) in hopes of finding the one that was actually a prince.

I realize now that I was rather naïve about love. But who could blame me? My parents were in love and have been forever. I knew there was a thing called divorce, but I was never personally affected by it. My parents never fought or screamed at each other and while I’m sure they had the occasional fight out of earshot, the bottom line is they have a happy marriage. The older I got, the more I came to realize that my parents were the exception. Most of my friend’s parents were divorced. Some got divorced along the way. You would think this would turn me cynical, but instead I was more determined than ever to find my prince.

If you haven’t realized by now, yes…this is a sappy post. You can thank Kat for the inspiration. And yes, I have found my prince. He’s the one. I’ll be marrying this wonderful man in a few short months. Although the whole idea of the wedding itself is a bit stressful the one thing that I am holding onto is the fact that after the wedding I will be his wife. That is something I am really excited for.

Why am I so convinced that he is the one? That this is love? Well, I’ll tell you. FH and I met in college. After some flirting on my part and one of his friends pointing me out to him, we were leaning towards going on a date. At this point in my life I thought I would try the whole casual dating thing as I had never done it before. I had three dates lined up in one week and I was aiming for another with FH. When he heard about this he told me no, he wouldn’t participate in such a thing. If I wanted a date with him, it would be only him. What can I say? I cancelled my other dates and promised to take FH out to dinner. In the end he took me out, but he relished the idea that I was willing to take him out. He’s the first – and only – guy that I agreed to take out. I was the one chasing him and he loves bringing that up.

But that’s just how we started. The thing is, FH has been there for me from the beginning. He has been endlessly patient with all my crazy whims. He spoils me. He has seen me at my best and my very worst. My very worst came early on in our relationship and when he didn’t turn and run away I knew that there was something different here. He helped me through a lot of issues. He has been there to hold my hand through everything. Whenever I’m upset, FH always finds a way to make me laugh. He is my rock. And I like to think that I do a lot of the same things for him. I think that we both make each other better, we challenge each other, and we strive to be the one that makes the other smile. He brings the best out of me and vice versa.

There have been hundreds of tiny moments where I knew that he loved me back. One of those times was when he took me to see RENT live. It’s a movie I’ve seen a zillion times and he loathes it. Musicals are not his thing. But it was my birthday and he took me anyway. It was amazing. He is amazing. Those times when I’m feeling blue and he lets me pick the movie. When he would play “Friends Scene It” after only seeing the series once and I would kick his butt. The way that he plays cards with me. The way that he always is there for me. The proposal that he planned: he took our song and taught himself how to play it on the piano. I was blown away. The way that he has taken care of me during this whole ordeal with my knee. When he let me get Ranger before he even met him because he knew how attached I had already become. How he walks Ranger twice daily since I still am not back on my feet. The endless cups of water he will fill for me. How he will stop at the store for milk. How he calls me sometimes to just say hi, or sends me pictures of different animals he has encountered throughout his day. When he holds me after a bad day. When he looks into my eyes and tells me he loves me.

Our relationship isn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination. We fight, we argue, we disagree. We get on each other’s nerves. Sometimes he does something stupid and I just want to smack him. Sometimes he says something stupid and I want to smack him. But we always work it out because this is worth something. It’s worth working at. At the end of the day, all I want is to be in his arms. FH is my best friend. Whenever something happens, whether it is good, bad, or ordinary I cannot wait to tell FH about it. He’s my person, my soon-to-be husband, my best friend. So Happy Valentine’s Day, I hope everyone finds their someone, their prince, and their happily ever after.