Moral of the story: Don't eat orange food.

Remember how I was complaining that I never get to see my husband? Of course you do. Well, he finally came home Sunday night, and I met him at the door with pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. He had one after dinner and promptly went to bed.

Yesterday morning he woke up feeling sick to his stomach. He went to work anyway, but called soon after he got there to tell me that he was coming home soon and that I had better not eat any more cookies because he was throwing up all over the place, and it had to be because of the cookies because it was orange. I told him that I had eaten five cookies to his one, and that I was just fine, so I was sure it wasn't the cookies. He said that he was sure that it WAS the cookies because his puke was ORANGE, and why else would he be puking ORANGE if it weren't the cookies. That's right: MY HUSBAND ACCUSED ME OF POISONING HIM WITH MY COOKIES. Never mind that he had also eaten candy and pizza that would have made his outpourings orange-tinted, it HAD to have been my pumpkin cookies. Meanwhile, I kept eating the tainted cookies and the rest of the pizza, and I've been fine the whole time.

When he came home that afternoon I was cleaning up cat puke (which, ironically, was also orange), signing for a UPS delivery, and participating in a conference call--ALL AT THE SAME TIME. He said something about "those motherfuckers" loud enough for everyone on the phone to hear, then took his sailor mouth and settled into bed with a bucket into which he would dry heave every so often. I didn't hear a peep out of him until that evening.

I think I've convinced him that it wasn't my cookies, and rather the flu, because he called out sick this morning and I haven't fed him anything since Sunday night. Also because it is OBVIOUSLY the flu.

So, while he's been recovering from my POISON, I've been enjoying it. I have three more cans of pumpkin, so I plan to make more poisonous food soon. A vegan pumpkin cheesecake, perhaps? Muffins? THE POISONOUS PUMPKIN COULD BE LURKING ANYWHERE.

The details: I veganized this recipe--just use Ener-G egg replacer and non-dairy butter... simple! As Molly commented, they are very cake-like. As such, they taste best warm! I am eating one right now, and if it were a tad later, I would be having a mug of hot cider and rum with it.

P.S. Wouldn't you like to marry a sailor, too?

Move along, this is just a bunch of complaining.

Last weekend we were driving around in my car when a New Kids on the Block song came on the radio. I began my obligatory rocking out, and Jason asked me why I didn't burn some copies of my CD so we could have one at home and in each car. I said "You want that CD in your cars?" He said, "I wouldn't mind it. I like some of the songs on that new CD." Yes, you read that right. I AM A VERY PERSUASIVE PERSON.

This weekend we haven't had the chance to do anything together, let alone discuss the merits of New Kids on the Block songs. Jason is a field service technician for a company that manufactures a very complicated kind of security equipment. As such, he often has to travel. I have seen him for a total of about five hours this week. He was in South Dakota for work all week. He got home at 2 AM Saturday morning, then had to leave again at 7 AM to go to Vermont because a machine there went down. We had to cancel all of our weekend plans. It is SO FRUSTRATING. The money is good, especially considering that when all is said and done, he'll have worked more than 80 hours this week--half of those for overtime pay. We'll have a good Christmas, that's for sure.

But that's the thing: I don't want presents, I just want him. Jason is on call for Christmas and the weekend following Christmas, so he has to stay in Massachusetts. Of course, he might not even be able to stay home--if he gets called to go fix something, he has to go. So I might be stuck in Massachusetts ALONE for Christmas. Fuck that.

What I really want is to go home to Michigan. It doesn't look like that is going to happen, though, and I am completely heartbroken because it sounds like I am going to be missing out on a lot of Mitten State fun, including my mother getting married, my sister being home, and a chance to meet Ashley. Of course, if I do somehow get to go, I won't be with Jason. So either way something will be missing.

Something will be missing like it has been all week.



Jason:
...

...and I miss you. See you tonight (I hope).

Still a fatty fat.

This was the view from our balcony a few weeks ago:



Now it's gone, gone, gone, leaving bare, drab branches in place of all that color. If I can't have pretty leaves anymore, then bring on the snow. What's the holdup?

Jason is in South Dakota for work this week (boo), so I have to keep myself occupied. Monday night I went to pick up Jasper's insulin from the pharmacy, so I stopped by the mall while I was out. Gap didn't have the party dresses I wanted to try on in stock yet, so I popped into Limited to look at theirs. I took one look at their sizing and styles and knew I was probably out of luck, but I did get a top that I am super-excited to wear the next time we go out.

Last night I worked out for the first time in a long time (thanks to Ashley, who inspired me). I have been slacking pretty badly on my mission to lose weight, and have been feeling awful about my body. In fact, I haven't lost any weight at all (hey, at least I didn't get fatter). Last week I was so bloated that I could barely get my wedding rings on. Gross, right? That, at least, is back to normal. So this week I'm watching what I eat, restricting portion sizes (and I am STARVING right now--it's dinner time!), and getting up off of my ass. I hope to keep this up when Jason gets back--we could both use the activity.

Surprisingly, I am not sore today. I figured I would be. I like to be. If I go to the gym tonight, I will work harder--more weight, more reps, faster pace. I want to feel the burn!

I am only up this late because...

...I am trying to place a Gap order with a coupon code that expired on Sunday (which it ceased to be while I was picking out shirts for Jason) and now the Web site is down. The things I do for my precious preppy clothing when I have a hefty discount... I am shaking my head at myself, but I can't pass up 30 percent off.

We didn't end up going dancing on Friday. Instead, Jason rented Iron Man and I finally finished reading Skinny Bitch. We spent all day Saturday out in the rain hunting down video games, then returning them when Jason discovered "scratches" on the discs. (We do that every weekend. You only think that I am kidding.)

After having a salad bar/split veggie burger dinner at Ruby Tuesday's, we went home to give Jasper his insulin. I then spent two hours trying on my "going out" clothes before settling on Gap jeans and a black ruffled top from Old Navy.

It was unseasonably warm out, so I was going to wear some nice knee-length black pants I got at Target with a black and silver lacy cami, but that wouldn't work because I did not have the right shoes to wear with short pants. I couldn't wear my cute black beaded flip flops because hello, those are not bar/club-wear--I am not going to risk getting my foot impaled by some drunk ho in stilettos. Actually, I couldn't wear anything open-toed because right now my toes look like they belong on a hobbit's foot. (I'm sure you must be thinking that it is awfully stupid for me to care about anyone looking at my toes in a dark dance club, and you would be right--anyone would be far too busy looking at my boobs to look down and notice my fugly toes. I'm just saying.) My black sling-back flats looked stupid, and my black pumps hurt too much when I don't wear tights. My favorite black shoes that I've had since high school are too beat up to wear and will be headed to the trash soon. (Their insides are ripping out. It's sad.)

I finally decided to wear jeans so I could just wear my comfortable, cute black faux-leather soccer cleats that I got from the men's section at Payless. (I wear men's size six. I dated a guy in college whose feet were smaller than mine. His other parts were smaller than mine, too--even the parts I don't technically have. Oh yes, I am going there on the internet. I just googled him and I find myself compelled to mock his post-college job, too, but I suppose insulting his genitalia is quite sufficient for today.)

After I fussed with my rain- and humidity-wrecked hair and makeup and Jason made an ATM run for cover charge cash, we made our way to Rain (in Jason's hometown!), where we shook our bon-bons until closing time. Have I ever mentioned how much I love going out? Because I LOVE IT. It makes me wish we had a larger social network so we could go to events and parties. As it is, we're at an age where everyone starts to marry off and the only wedding on our horizon is in spring 2009. We may not even go to that. It depends on if we still live in Massachusetts.

And we might not. The Navy thing is still a possibility, but tonight Jason brought up the potential of moving to Michigan instead, and I nearly burst into tears during dinner at Mehmaan because moving home to live there (for real) and not just visit (for play) would MAKE MY LIFE. And trust me that I mean that without a shred of sarcasm, because home + husband = my dream come true. For real and not for play. Shit, I'm teary-eyed right now just thinking about it.

I could be with my family, I could have FRIENDS again (and let's be honest, I do not have a single friend in Massachusetts--it's pathetic), and I could feel like MYSELF for once instead of feeling like an alien. I would never have suggested moving home for fear of making Jason feel pressured into it, but it was all his idea, and he is quite serious about it. He said that I gave up my happy life in Virginia to come live near his family in Massachusetts, and now that we know that we're mostly unhappy with the result of that, we should give it a try near my family. Because they are AWESOME and accepting and they think he is Jesus. Well, that might be a slight exaggeration, but my family members do like him an awful lot. And he likes them, too.

Massachusetts is a long, dark tunnel (seriously, it gets dark here at 4 PM now!) and the prospect of going home for good is a floodlight on the horizon. I'm trying so, so hard not to get my hopes up, but as it is I don't get to go home for Thanksgiving or Christmas this year, so I have to hang on to whatever shred of hope I can find.

Keyword Roundup, Volume 1

Apparently, my mother is not the only person who reads this blog. Some (un)lucky Googlers have also meandered through these parts, in search of information that they probably did not find. Sorry for their bad luck.

Here are the most recent search terms people have used to get here, and the entries those terms yielded, plus my comments:

Douglas Brinkley - Election Day by the Adult Beverages (oh, and some political stuff, too)

grabbing my boobs - Old-school Halloween costume time That's right, Canton, Ohio, I see you.

raccoon eat pine cone - Surgery, travel, and baby raccoons, oh my!

Byron Pitts CBS mother Obama - Election Day by the Adult Beverages (oh, and some political stuff, too)

soy sauce diarrhea - Sometimes my cooking looks like baby diarrhea but I promise it is far more delicious. Having a little problem, Grand Rapids, Michigan?

presidential historian - Election Day by the Adult Beverages (oh, and some political stuff, too)

Heidi's sister Halloween - Old-school Halloween costume time What about her, Toronto?

Couric choked up Obama win - Election Day by the Adult Beverages (oh, and some political stuff, too)

my nasty costume - Old-school Halloween costume time

old school costumes images - Old-school Halloween costume time

Bethany Chismark - I once dated a rabid U of M fan. No really, I think he had rabies.

inches hair gone - Forget couples counseling, we get couples HAIRCUTS

heidi renee 26 - Obviously, channel 26 cannot be beat in terms of public access television.

Douglas Brinkley toupee - Election Day by the Adult Beverages (oh, and some political stuff, too) Great minds think alike, Carmel, New York.

had a one night stand with - Surgery, travel, and baby raccoons, oh my! This also brought up the main page. Who knew I was so scandalous?

had a one night stand with heidi m. 2001 - This one brought up the main page as the sixth result. I am not Heidi M. Sorry, Allen Park, Michigan.

What's everyone doing tonight? I really want to go dancing. We'll see if I can talk Jason into it.

my kitchen stylings

The past few days I have been a cooking machine. Last night I made eggplant parmesan with roasted asparagus, mushroom meatballs, and French bread. The night before that, lemon "chicken" and mashed butternut squash. Before that, "beef" and broccoli stir-fry. Monday night we had big, fresh salads with rotini and sauce (because Jason won't eat just salad as a meal, no matter how I make it). This was all vegetarian, of course.

Now, don't think I'm getting all fancy--a lot of this stuff is store-bought so I can cut corners. The squash was precubed; I just boiled and mashed it with Smart Balance. The eggplant was frozen and pre-breaded. The mushroom meatballs were from a package. The French bread was from the grocery store bakery; I sliced it, slathered on some Smart Balance, and popped it in the oven to get crusty.

Despite the shortcuts, it was all still delicious. Jason even came home for lunch today, and had two servings of leftover lemon chicken and eggplant with a side of squash and asparagus. Of course, now that he's already had leftovers today I have no idea what to make for dinner. I have another big bunch of asparagus in the fridge so I suppose I'll pop that in the oven and pray for something else inspiring to appear.

Even though I work from home, my job often keeps me busy well into the evening. That's the thing about telecommuting--you can never really leave for the night. It does afford other benefits, like working in sweatpants and not getting yelled at for looking at LOLcats first thing in the morning, so I'll take the occasional extra hour of work. If I didn't work, though, I would cook. I would get out my pasta maker that I have sadly never used and make some noodles. I would make Jason breakfast in the morning. I would start making dinner at 4 PM. But most importantly, I would bake.

Everyone in the blogosphere has been posting the most delicious-sounding pumpkin recipes, and I need to get in on that action. I have been wanting to bake all week, and I picked up some canned pumpkin and spices yesterday, so now all I have to do is pick a recipe and veganize it.

Decisions, decisions.

2 in the Morning

I had a dream this morning that I was in my bed, the top bunk of a set of bunkbeds, at my dad's old apartment in Lansing. It has been years since he lived there, but I was my current age. I was going to a New Kids on the Block concert, so Daddy gave me a gift: a New Kids album! It was on a record, and it was an album from 1994 that I had never seen before. Some of the writing on it was in Turkish, and none of the song titles were familiar. Now, I obviously don't speak Turkish, but I knew that's what it was. I was very excited.

I woke up suddenly when Jacob knocked my entire jewelry box off of my dresser. That little shit. I really would have liked to have more of that dream.

The picture is from my eighth birthday, I think. See what a good little NKOTB fan I am?

And here's the dream disrupter:




Note: 2 in the Morning is one of my favorite songs on the new NKOTB album.

Happy Veterans Day

As I sit here this Veterans Day, I am so glad to have my husband nearby, at the opposite end of the couch, playing PS3. There's nothing quite so excruciating as having your loved one be gone for military reasons, and my heart goes out to anyone whose person in uniform is far away from home right now.

I took a set of pictures of Jason in uniform last year on Veterans Day. People driving by honked at us while we were standing out in that field. I can only imagine that they were doing it to say thanks. I have three 8 x 10 prints from that session hanging in our bedroom. I look at them every day and think about how proud I am of him for having already served, and how proud I would be of him if he were to go through with rejoining. I also think about how freakin' hot he looks in uniform, and how lucky I am to be his wife.

He is my hero, today and always.

Forget couples counseling, we get couples HAIRCUTS

So yesterday, Jason was desperate to get his hair cut. It was touching his ears, and that is a PROBLEM. He gets all fidgety and tries to tuck it behind his ears--but you cannot tuck man hairs. Not man hairs that are mere centimeters long. What was even more of a problem was that the barber shop he usually frequents had already closed for the day. And this is proof of how desperate he was: he wanted to go to one of the mall salons to have someone--ANYONE--stop the hair-on-ears torture. So we did--and I managed to get an appointment at the same time as him. Score! This was good because it meant that I could get my hair cut too--and also that I would not be able to wander the mall unsupervised, spending his money on red sparkly underwears and cute tins of mints. Not to worry though, that's what I did today, with spousal approval. Obviously, I require seasonal undergarments for the ladies (this, in red)--and Jason completely supports that. If your intended life partner is not on board the seasonal undergarment train, well... put it in a pre-nup.

The salon we went to, Hair Excitement, was waaay better than I expected from a mall salon. And with a name like Hair Excitement (Hair Excitement!!!!!111oneONE), can you blame me for having low expectations? But people, hold on to your ear-grazing hairs: THEY SERVE BOOZE. That is right, you can sit there in the chair and down a beer while you get beautiful. And that is exactly what Jason did (they also have wine, pop, and bottled water). Oh, and they give good haircuts. But really, let's focus on the important thing: THE FREE BOOZE. Nothing makes one feel manly like sipping a frosty glass of Bud Light while sitting in a salon full of women and getting one's ear hairs trimmed into a military-acceptable fade.

Later on, my manly man admitted that he liked going to the salon, and that he actually prefers it to the barber shop. You read that right, people: my no-nonsense sailor likes to get his groom on at the beauty parlor. This could lead us into a whole new world of couples activities. Facials? Mani/pedis? WAXING? THE DOOR HAS BEEN OPENED.

Jason even liked his stylist (they gave him the boy), and said that he enjoyed chatting with him as he sat there. He admitted he felt way more comfortable and welcomed in the salon than at the barber shop. I know, WHAT? I learn something new about my husband every day.

As for me, I was long overdue for a nice chop, but I have this problem. I have always been loyal to my stylist at home in Michigan. My mom, sister, and I have gone to her since I was a little kid. I last saw her when I was home in May--I got my wedding updo grow-out whacked off. The first picture is a few days before our wedding last December, so you can imagine how long and nasty it was with five months' more growth. Like having a mop on my head, that is how long and nasty it was. I fail at having long hair. It takes forever to dry, it is always flat, it always had weird kinks, and it just generally looks bad. But, going home to Michigan every time I need a trim is not so feasible, and that is why I tend to put off getting it cut. And isn't finding a new stylist the worst?

That's my 'do from May in the second picture, fresh from the salon. Let me tell you, I felt like a new woman: sassy and fresh and FREE OF THE MOP. The third picture is from August, just to show how it had grown in a few months. The lesson we learn from these pictures is that 1. My sister is HOT and looks excellent with long hair, and that 2. I am freakishly pale and look better with shorter hair.

So by November? Too long for comfort. I, like Jason, had reached my tipping point. Or my 24-hour ponytail point.

Now, a three-inch chop later, I am feeling oh-so-much better, and looking rather like an anchor for the six o'clock news (this just in: Jason's dimples make me weak in the knees). Behold:

The day after

I'm on my lunch break (having Spaghetti-Os, so mature), so thought I'd come back for one more bloggy happy dance. And also to share some pictures from my festivities last night. Here I am, rocking cute glasses just like Katie Couric. But I swear I have never seen that crown before. Oh, wait... Jacob is the president of the Dracut chapter of Cats for Obama.



So a few takeaways from last night:

I fail at binge drinking. Not that this is terribly surprising. Election coverage is too riveting for me to truly focus on destroying my liver.

Using paragraphs while blogging is a good thing. But I'm not going to go back and change anything, because my blathering is very, very representative of how my brain works when I am tipsy. Ask my husband.

Barack Obama is the president of the United States of America.

Election Day by the Adult Beverages (oh, and some political stuff, too)

Drink 1, 6:45 PM: Chocolate banana amaretto shake. OK, I got off to a later start than I meant to, but I got a work call at 6:10 (WTF?) and then I wanted to take a shower. Will have to make up for this late start.

Drink 2, 7:45 PM: Apple cider with rum in my giant Hard Rock Café tumbler (shown at right with my other accoutrements for my evening of drink). Dinner too: leftover Indian food I made Saturday night. Surprisingly good with booze. I feel a slight buzz but I predict that it will fade as I eat. According to CBS, McCain is up 21 electoral votes to Obama's 3 (from Vermont) right now. CNN says McCain is only at 16. Anderson Cooper, MEEEEOW. CNN is calling several more states, making it: Obama 77, McCain 34. This is like a basketball game. Obama could smoke McCain on the court. CBS is reporting Obama 81, McCain 39; Obama leading the popular vote 52% to 47%. Katie Couric is wearing some cute glasses. My madre just called to ask if I am drunk yet. Nope... but man, is this cider and rum good. I just went and set my alarm clock to make sure that I wake up tomorrow. See you on the flip side, 8:45 AM. I love working from home. Roll out of bed, work in my pajamas. EMPLOYMENT WIN. Speaking of that, my work is supposedly sending me a computer with a flat screen monitor. I may start working at my desk instead of sitting on the couch with my laptop all the time. Watching all this election coverage, it's funny to think that in college I intended to work in journalism or politics. CBS reporter Byron Pitts: "Last time I checked, Presbyterians love Jesus just as much as any other Christians." Oh, SNAP! I LOLed. CNN is calling New Hampshire for Obama! CBS is calling Pennsylvania for Obama! Electoral votes according to CBS: Obama 102, McCain 45. Electoral votes according to CNN: Obama 102, McCain 34. I'm not going to make another drink until after I give Jasper his evening insulin. Needles and drunkenness are not a good match. I am an excellent decision-maker. By the way, was anybody else super-happy yesterday when Miss Heidi "I Drink to Excess at Work Events then Speak Condescendingly to My Boss" Montag got fired on The Hills? Or maybe I'm just a horrible person who takes pleasure in other people's failures. Electoral votes according to CBS: Obama 102, McCain 54. Boston's CBS affiliate, WBZ, is reporting that Question 3, the ban on greyhound racing, is passing so far, with the reporting districts polling 60% yes. I am close to crying. When we lived in Virginia, I had a coworker who had a rescued former racer. Needless to say, I voted yes on 3. As much as I dislike livign in Massachusetts, I am SO GLAD that I could be part of doing away with the digusting dog racing industry. Electoral votes according to CBS: Obama 174, McCain 100. CBS is calling the Michigan senatorial election for Carl Levin. Woohoo! I heart Carl. I am wearing Michigan State sweatpants and a Luther College hoodie (that's where my sister went--it's in Iowa). I'm sure these little details of my evening are thrilling. I'm feeling like I ought to break up this paragraph, but eeeehhhhh... I have finished my cider and rum and can feel it now. Good thing I had dinner. Definitely not making another drink until after Big Kitty's shot. CBS is reporting the popular vote at Obama 50%, McCain 49%. Yikes. Just talked to my husband on the phone for 40 minutes. Best time killer I could think of. Told him I'll try not to drunk dial him later. Still slightly tipsy. Will do Jasper's insulin soon. WBZ is reporting that New England states are polling solidly for Obama and John Kerry will retain his Senate seat. Word.

Drink 3, 10 PM: Another big cider and rum. Why mess with a good thing? Was successful in administering Jasper's insulin. A few minutes ago Bob Schieffer said something about thinking that Barack Obama will win tonight, and the near-mathematic impossibility of McCain catching up. I love that Katie Couric is wearing pink. Popular vote is still close, says CBS: Obama 50%, McCain 49%. Electoral vote is at Obama 206, McCain 135. I kind of feel like we should do away with the electoral college. Why not let the popular vote be the deciding factor? And I do not feel this way just because Al Gore would have won in 2000. Doesn't it seem like the fair way to do things? I just switched over to VH1 for a minute, and this girl just said, "I only have time for two things, and that's tanning and drinking." I don't tan, but I guess I am not one to judge tonight, huh? The show is Rock of Love Charm School. Apparently Sharon Osborne is the headmistress and she calls everyone Mrs. I think this is excellent. CBS is putting the electoral vote at Obama 206, McCain 141. The same commercial that's on CBS is on CNN right now. I do not like that at all. Fox is calling Virginia for Obama. Yes, FOX. ABC's saying Obama 207, McCain 141. I'm pretty sure Douglas Brinkley, a "presidential historian" on CBS, is wearing a toupee. Either that or it's a really bad comb-over. My drinks make me have to pee a lot.

11 PM: CBS IS CALLING THE ELECTION FOR OBAMA. And I am losing my shit right now. CNN is calling it, too. And Fox. All of the major networks are. I think Byron Pitts is losing his shit a little bit, too. He's visibly choked up. WBZ, Boston's CBS affiliate, is reporting that McCain has called Obama to congratulate him. It must be so electric in Grant Park in Chicago right now. Jesse Jackson is definitely losing his shit. WBZ is showing him in Grant Park with tears streaming down his face. I saw Jesse Jackson speak during college. He was amazing. John McCain is conceding right now. He just said that he called Obama a moment ago, and people in the crowd started booing. To his credit, he held out his hands and said "please." Please, indeed. Have some class, folks. But you know who does have class? John McCain. Fantastic speech. Boo to the people booing after the Obama and Joe Biden mentions, but yay to McCain for, in effect, telling them to shut the fuck up. Seriously, props to you, John McCain. I may not have voted for you, and I may have cringed every time you said "my friends," but I have always had a lot of respect for you. And your mom is wicked cute. And you have excellent speech writers.

The Obama show is beginning. I didn't catch who the speaker is, but he appears to be a minister of some sort. WBZ is switching back over to Katie Couric. CBS electoral vote call: Obama 333, McCain 155. The CBS reporter in Chicago just said that President Bush has called Obama to congratulate him. Somebody in the CBS studio is talking about the historic amount of women just elected to the Senate--today brings it to 17. Well done, fellow vagina-possessors. Apparently people--students, CBS says--are celebrating outside the White House. Just a few short months, kids.

11:55 PM: Here comes Obama! His daughters look SO excited. Speech time. YEEESSSS new puppy (please, please adopt from a shelter)! YES WE CAN. The story about the 106-year-old lady voting in Atlanta? TEARS. Yes, yes, YES, WE CAN. And we did! And we will do.

Goodnight, America.

The Election Day Post

I have, until today, kept the political yammer under wraps. But if I can't break out a partisan post today, when can I?

Here are my plans for tonight: sign off of work at 5:30 on the dot. Start drinking (amaretto and rum!) and watching election coverage. Stay up drinking and watching TV until a Democrat is president.

As my new favorite former Spartan Ashley pointed out, we might be drunk for another four years. But under the circumstances, I feel that such a condition would be acceptable.* And would it really be all that different from college?**

I'll leave you with this:




And just in case you were wondering:



* Note: This is obviously an exaggeration for the sake of being ridiculous. I will accept the outcome of a fair election and will continue living in the United States regardless of who moves into the White House in January. I'm just saying.

** Note to my mother: Apart from study abroad (like, 3800 MILES apart, because that is how far it is from the Lansing area to London), I probably drank about four times during college. And that is the truth, which is actually kind of embarrassing to admit, because it makes me sound like such a little goody two-shoes. Really though, I just didn't have time for booze. I was too busy burning couches. Obviously.

The Mass-exodus begins

And by Mass-exodus, I mean that the time has come for my mother to leave the Bay State to go back to the mothership. And by the mothership, I mean the Mitten State. And by the Mitten State, I mean Michigan. I hope that the Mass-exodus will soon become a mass Mass-exodus. In case I haven't made it clear, I am dying to move somewhere else--anywhere else. And by that I mean I really want to get the HELL out of here, to anywhere else as long as it has indoor plumbing and high-speed internet access. I guess that rules out Amish country. I am lucky in that Jason shares my sentiments and totally understands my (sometimes somewhat petty) reasons for being unhappy here.

What I'm really trying to say is that we went to see Mommy in Worcester for one last time last night. It was bittersweet. I didn't want to use that word, but that is what it was. As I previously mentioned, she is moving home and getting married. She and Phillip (her fiancé) were supposed to leave yesterday, but are now leaving Thursday instead. That means that rather than help them load the truck last night, we got to go out for a nice dinner and enjoy being together for the last time in who knows how long.

I have a lot of mixed feelings about this move.

On one hand, it has been beyond great having my mommy an hour away. I feel so lucky to have had her so close and involved during this time in my life, and it is wonderful that she has had the opportunity to bond with the man with whom I've chosen to spend the rest of my life. I feel very sad to be losing such easy access to someone who has become a best friend. Yes, she's my mom, but she'd definitely be in my top eight if she were on MySpace (but don't join just for that, Mommy, because I HATE MySpace and you'd hate it too). Most people don't have that sort of relationship with their mother, and I don't need to look far to see the opposite end of that spectrum in other families. I consider myself to be very blessed to have such a special bond with my mom.

On the other hand, Michigan is home. It always will be. It is where my family belongs. The idea of going home to Michigan to be amongst my people is that much better because now I know that more of them will be there, where they belong. I would move there in a second if Jason were able to find work. If this Navy thing doesn't happen, I'll be lobbying hard for Michigan to be on the short list of relocation options. I am definitely very excited for Mommy to be going home, and for her to be making a home for herself with Phillip, whom I adore. I couldn't have dreamed up a better next chapter for her.

All of that made it only slightly easier to walk out her door for the last time last night. And by that I mean that it was not easy at all. And that it was not done without tears in my eyes. And that frankly, I'm surprised that I held it together as well as I did.

I also had to say my goodbyes to Velveteen (who was good enough to tolerate a few pictures). It was heart-wrenching. He is nine years old. That's old, for a bunny. I petted his head and back and silky cheeks and breathed in his clean rabbit smell until there were fluffs up my nose. I put my face in his face and watched his nose wiggle. I held out each of my fingers for him to mark with his chin (I'm still his). I choked back tears while I did all of this, wedged under Mommy's bed, rather stuck because my boobs were in the way. I even made Jason get down on the floor and reach under there to give the requisite ear-stroke. He is a very patient husband.

I'm hoping that the Mass-exodus goes well for all involved. And in case you are wondering if they plan to take a shortcut and drive their moving truck through Canada, the answer is no. And that is because Mommy wants to keep her houseplants and her "non-native species" rabbit.

My big kitty, the diabetic

Yesterday was Jasper's big day at the vet. I've mentioned previously that he has had problems with high blood sugar, so when we took Lola in for her checkup and shots last week, we took him along to have his blood tested again. Sure enough, it was high--over 400. So not good. The tests they ran this time determined that he is definitely diabetic--that the sugar in his blood stays high over extended periods of time, and is not due to anxiety as we previously thought (extreme stress can cause cats' levels to shoot up). So yesterday we took him back to have his first insulin injection and stay there for the day to be monitored and determine dosages.

I dropped him off in the morning, and we both went back in the evening to meet with our awesome vet to discuss the results and have a lesson in giving the insulin injections and testing his blood glucose level. It turns out that they are both super easy, and while I still feel slightly squeamish about the needles, so far I've been able to put my personal phobias aside to give him his twice-daily injections (on the other hand, I'm still putting off going to the hospital lab to get my own bloodwork done). It's just a quick prick in the scruff between his shoulder blades--most cats can't even feel it. We have a box of 100 tiny syringes in the kitchen cupboard and a tiny bottle of insulin (human grade, thank you) in the refrigerator.

We also got him some prescription food, which he'll actually eat--a suprise to me, because Jasper is notoriously picky about food. We switched brands after the recalls last year (the brand we used had certain products, though not the ones we used, pulled), and finding new, safe, foods that both Jacob and Jasper would eat was a challenge (we didn't have Lola then). Jasper wouldn't eat more than a couple bites at a time of Newman's Own dry food, and Jacob would only eat it begrudgingly after determining that a different kind wasn't going to appear. Then we used PetGuard dry food, which they liked enough to eat, but we had to drive an hour round trip to get it at Whole Foods. We finally struck gold when we found a little, family-owned specialty pet food store in Dracut. Now we keep all three cats fat and happy with Wysong Vitality dry food and Artemis Chicken and Evanger's Whole Mackerel canned foods. And by fat, I mean healthy. Jasper's weight problem is much more under control now--he's actually cat-shaped instead of blob-shaped! He weighed 25.9 pounds in February, and now he's down to 20.2 pounds--still a heavy cat, but a much more reasonable weight for his kitty height. Comparably, Lola weighs exactly eight pounds now and Jacob weighed 18.5 pounds at his last checkup in February. Jacob and Jasper are just incredibly large-bodied cats.

Between Jasper's supplies and my various prescription bottles and cut-up pills (I can't help it that they don't come in my dosage!) lying around in the kitchen and bathroom, I feel like I'm running a crack house.

P.S. I know you love the picture of two of my favorite men lounging on the ugly couch. Jason rocks the Xbox 360 headset.

P.P.S. I don't literally have pills lying around. I'm not THAT careless.