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Beaches, Bronchitis and Bombomclad
So, we have been back from Jamaica for about two weeks. Words cannot even describe the time we had there! Breakfast delivered by our butlers every morning. Delivered to our patio overlooking the tropical magic and the beach! The relaxation of not having to worry about a thing every day. Dinner, done. Area you want to be all day, done. Cabana, done. I still get worked up into tears just wanting to be back there. I swear I still smell the smells I had there on my clothes and from being outside. No phones, no internet, no work, no worries. 
I did not know the next day we were in paradise, Joey would get sick. I teased him telling him he indulged a tad too much on his first day of the all inclusive, but as time ticked on, I realized this was not the case. Joey was a trooper though, endured day by day of this wicked stomach flu.
Little did I know, the day before we left, I would fall to the same ailment as Joey had. Yes folks, I traveled from the paradise of Jamaica with a stomach flu! Throwing up on our travels back to Miami only to find our flight canceled and only to be faced with an eight hour layover in Miami. Thank goodness the persistence of Joey ended up with us on stand-by to Tampa, only to have poor Joey drive back to TIA to retrieve luggage, in the worst down pour I have seen in ages. But I could be sick in the comfort of our own home!
One last of the magic…
Now, for my bitch, ruin the greatness post! I have been sick every day since we have been back. The stomach flu took a bit to get rid of, but that has given way to some type of funk. The doctors call it bronchitis, I call it hell. 15 days of constant sickness is a tad crazy! I eat healthy and tend to lead a healthy lifestyle, but no thanks to me, how my mother chose to live her life when she was pregnant and my subsequent childhood I can not shake this sickness.
I finally broke down and went to see a doctor and they call it Bronchitis. This is good and bad. It’s not serious, but my childhood dealing with Pneumonia and all sorts of respiratory illnesses, fighting anything like this off takes lots of energy and lots of time. I am tired. I am sore. I am sick of being sick and spending all day coughing and coughing and coughing. I finally have meds. I refuse to take antibiotics, yet. I am well aware of what constitutes an infection, or something that warrants taking antibiotics, and I know, I have not reached that point. However, one can only cough so often and so long…
Time? What Time?
So, obviously it has been some time since I have been on here. As I look at the date of my last entry, it is evident why. In November I started working overtime. This doesn’t come around too often, so when a trip to Jamaica was in the works, I thought there wasn’t a better time to take up the opportunity.
Since I started in November, I can probably count on one hand the days I have not worked. It’s typically an hour or so everyday during the week and a couple of hours or more over the weekend. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but it is really wearing on me. I try to go out on the weekends and enjoy what time I do have, but this only lasts a few hours before I am the yawning bitty in the corner counting down the minutes till I can be in bed. Poor Joey is going to stop taking me anywhere because he always has to take me home. It has really sucked over the past couple of months because I have really missed out on some fun and memorable times.
Several years ago was the last time I was able to work overtime and I would pull in up to 40 additional hours per paycheck. I wasn’t that much younger, but having to take care of a household plus half is proving too much. The cooking, the cleaning, my regular stress infused job during the day, taking care of the dog, running errands and so on and so on I find myself completely exhausted 24-7.
This was a total bitch post for me, but sometimes you just need to vent. It might seem easy to just say “so quit working so much,” but its much more difficult than that. First I made a commitment to help this other department out for as long as it took and two, hello, the $$$$$. I’m not going to scoff at my salary and getting time and a half, I’m not going to lie, is pretty nice. So as the saying goes, I guess I can sleep when I’m dead.
The Holiday’s Begin
Well, Thanksgiving has come and gone and despite a horrific sinus headache, I survived. This time last year was a dark time, yet it brought me into a new light. I never know how I’m going to feel about the holiday’s, I have so many mixed emotions from years past… There was the time in Colorado we were blizzarded (my new word) in and I got my first puppy, Shadow. There were the times spent in Iowa, with family. There were the arguments and screaming and yelling all to play cool once we got to the Frangipane’s. I always have a certain expectation come a holiday and each year I’m faced with a different outcome. This year I saw my sister whom I haven’t seen or heard from in about a year. Awkward to say the least. I know my mom (Debbie) is working her tush off and is having to deal with the immanent passing of her biological mother. I always wonder what that day will be like for me. She’s (my biological mother) cared none the less for me for so many years, I wonder what I will feel like or how I will deal with her passing. All in all I am so blessed with those I have around me and could not (minus the headache) ask for a perfect time. On to Christmas and the start of a new and awesome year!
Tattoo Taboo
There is always that long-standing taboo about getting a significant others name tattooed on you. Ah-ha, I had them fooled, I was going to get my wedding date! At the time my marriage was already starting to crumble and I was trying to convince myself this would give me the power I needed to fix it. Plus, at the time I was in Boulder, Colorado in the same shop, with the same people that did my first tattoo. 
Alas, crumbled it did, tattoo I was left with… Although I find myself much wiser these days… 
Travels with Rudy
We decided to test out the possibility of traveling with Rudy, people have children, I have a dog. The thought of putting him in a kennel breaks my heart, so Orlando we were bound. We found a decent hotel right near Disney that allowed dogs. 
Day one was a disaster! I gave Rudy some Benadryl in an attempt to calm him down and I think it did just the opposite. We no sooner stepped out the door the barking and howling and scratching began. We both started to regret our decision as we stood in the hallway listennig to him carry on and on. Pre-occupied with what we were leaving, we headed to the outlets, but even shopping coulnd’t stop me from wondering if we were going to go back to the hotel to find our bags outside with Rudy tied to them. Getting off the elevator on our floor I was hoping the halls were not echoing with the sounds of Rudy, but I was wrong.
All night long I wondered how the next day was going to be, two hours alone was about to turn into eight or more. Friday starts, another Benadryl and EPCOT bound we were. 
The day was nothing short of amazing! Great food, great drinks and OK company. 
We returned to the hotel and everything was thankfully quiet, he had survived! Shit, the only thing we really returned to was happy hour at the hotel bar. The hotel was nice enough to let Rudy come to the pool with us and we ended the day sipping drinks, watching the sun fade, poolside! 
It’s Rudy Here
Hi folks! Member when my mom said I would make an occasional post here, well here I am. Mom took me on my first “vacation” this weekend. We went to this place called the beach and stayed in a place called The Postcard Inn. I love going places and really had a good time. Mom was a little confused at first because when she first called and asked where I could go on the property, they said one thing then when we got there, they said another and then when asked again, another. I thought the first room I was in was scary, mom just dropped me off and left. I was scared and alone and there were a lot of noises around. Thankfully mom came and got me and we went to another room. Mom actually stayed with me this time and I sill thought it was really loud and kept hearing noises, but she was there to keep me calm. After a bit, I was alone again, but was ok this time. Next thing I know we were going on an adventure, we went to something called a bar and I made some new friends there. Then mom got this great shot of me on the beach! 
I had so much fun and didn’t mind the sand, it actually felt nice to lay in. I am really excited, because mom tells me we are going to go to the beach again in a few weeks. I will let you all know how it was when I get back, until then, woof.
So, it Continues…
Yes, yes. The joys of apartment living continue. Last night as I sat, unwinding after a brutal Monday, I start to hear a popping-type noise. One, then another, then another… At first I thought it was something being thrown against my window, and then thought how silly that was. So with my hyper-sensitivity to my surroundings (thanks to my job) I of course have to go investigate. Sitting in the parking lot on a cement parking divider is a guy, old enough to know better, lighting off tiny firecrackers and throwing them wherever and in every direction. For whatever reason I found this quite amusing and decided to pull up a chair and watch the show. Glass of wine in hand I sat there for a good 20 minutes watching this guy pull these firecrackers out of a bag and light them over and over again. I do know all of a sudden Sister Christen started playing in my head (thank you Boogie Nights) and this added to the comedy of the situation. Once the bag was empty, off he went, back into his apartment. I don’t know if it’s the newest trend in stress relief, if the guy is secretly a pyro, hell, maybe the guy just likes fireworks. I am thankful for the fact he does not live in my building and it wasn’t two in the morning when this was being done.
While I’m at it I might update you on the rest of the crew. Mighty Mouse and Trash Bag have not been seen, I’m assuming they have vacated the premises. Lazy is moving out and in true fashion, instead of moving like a normal person, she throws things off the patio in an attempt to get them as close to her backed in “Minitruckn” as possible. Man, I’m going to miss her maggot-filled, baked garbage bag self. Serial Killer has actually been leaving his place; let’s hope it’s not to live up to his nickname…
Lord I sound like the busybody of the place; I swear it’s just the effects of the job coming home with me at night. ☺
Whoda Thunk
I can’t figure me out. One minute I’m whistling zippidy doo da out my asshole, the next I’m in tears. I wanna laugh, I wanna be me. I cry and I imagine the what-ifs. I seriously wonder, considering my past doings have scarred upon me, what my “normal” life would be. I laugh one minute, I’m pissed the next. I love unconditionally, I don’t want to be near. This has been my entire life. I strive for a “normal” life, yet i have no clue what that is. I want to be happy and I want to love life as I know I do and it isn’t happening. I’m lost, I’m confused. Although, considering all I’m a fighter. My boss, whom I look up to, told me today every day we make choices. Although something happened this morning to royally piss me off, I chose not to let it affect me like it did last week. This is a strange and unfamiliar place for me, and I know once all is said and done the proverbial band-aid can be placed on the wound and I can get to “normal.”
Sleepless Sunday’s
Ok, I have no clue what has been going on with me the past couple of Sunday’s. I have had some really fun, really jam-packed weekends, so one would think that come Sunday night when it’s time to go to sleep, I’d be out. Not. So. Much. The past couple Sunday’s I would wake up around 3 a.m. just to toss and turn until my alarm goes off a few short hours later. Evidently this was not good enough last night. I went to bed at a decent hour and once my head hit the pillow I was out, like a baby. Well, this lasted all the way until 1:30 a.m. I laid there wondering what the hell I was doing fully awake for about an hour. Desperate and not knowing what to do, I got up out of the bed and made myself some warm milk and sat in front of the TV watching really bad infomercials until 3:30 a.m. or so. During this time I hear stinky downstairs leaving at three in the morning. Where the hell he was going at that time is beyond me and the more I think about it, the better I probably am for not knowing. Still wide awake, I force myself to go back to bed around 4:00 a.m. To which I continue to toss and to turn until I hear the faint sound of my alarm going off. I know most of us loathe Monday’s, but come on, really? Monday should not be causing that much of a strain on me to where I feel 3 hours is adequate sleep. Alas, I sit here, yawning my ass off praying no one says or does anything to cause me to blow a gasket…
