Smile Friday

Since the wake and funeral for the aforementioned fireman is today and tomorrow, there will be some tears this holiday weekend. Which is why I’m so thankful that one of my college roommates is heading to RI to spend it with me.

V is a riot (seen here emotional while coming out of the church at our wedding. Love this pic.) and I’m so looking forward to laughing, talking, going to the fireworks and everything else that comes with a great visit. Can’t wait to see you, V!

Happy 4th everyone!

She put on lipstick for the labor, too.

Yesterday I watched an episode of A Baby Story and the mother-to-be had these really big, really 90s, perfectly round-brushed style bangs.

You could tell she wore the pants in the family. Especially when she told her husband that during labor, he was absolutely, positively, NOT ALLOWED to put a damp towel on her forehead.

Why?

Because she wanted the baby to “see my bangs” when he was born.

Got that? She wanted the BABY to see her BANGS when he was born.

I guess she wasn’t counting on labor being, you know, labor, because by the time the baby came out the stupid bangs were wet from sweat anyway and plastered to her forehead.

I couldn’t say for sure, but it seemed to me that the baby was less than impressed with mama’s hairdo. In fact, I think he was a little disappointed.

I think he would have preferred she wore a hat.

In rememberance

Throughout college, Michael worked as a volunteer fireman. The people he met there became more than friends, more than groomsmen. These guys became his brothers. At the center of this brotherhood there was P — the patriarch of the department, a member for something like 50 years. He was a grumpy old man, a curmudgeon — but that didn’t stop Michael from showing him respect and sitting at the table with him often to drink some coffee and shoot the breeze.

Yesterday, P lost his life from a freak accident at that very fire station. What followed was something I will never forget.

Word spread like wildfire that by the time he reached the hospital, his time was limited. Men of all ages — from college to mid-life — left work, left home, left their vacations, got military leave and even got on a plane from Afghanistan…to say their goodbyes. Over the years, P had touched so many lives — so many classes of men that walked through those department doors.

I was not at the hospital to witness this, but Michael said he had never seen anything like it. More than sixty men — many still in their work uniforms (varieties of police and fire) converged on the hospital. So many came to pay tribute to P, that the hospital gave them their very own conference room. Michael said there was not a dry eye in the house.

The sudden accident left everyone reeling. And put into perspective how precious life really is. I didn’t know P very well. We’ve said hello over the years and attended the same functions. While I mourn for his life, I hurt more for the wife and son he left behind. The ones that said goodbye as he walked out the door in the morning without a clue it would be the last time.

I cried yesterday. I cried for P and his family, I cried because I am so lucky to  have my husband come home to me.

I can only hope one day I will be so lucky to have so many people celebrate my life.

“…for life is short, but sweet for certain.”

Lobster

I am a big, fat, freaking idiot.

I’m fair skinned. I freckle. If I want anything resembling a tan, it takes SPF 30 and many days in the sun. I’m diligent with my sunscreen use because I’m paranoid of skin cancer and check myself regularly to make sure none of my freckles look irregular.

And I always remind Michael to wear sunscreen even on cloudy days because, from experience, I know those can be some of the worst burns.

So when I went to the air show with friends yesterday, you think I would have followed by own advice.

But no, it was dark and cloudy and it didn’t even cross my mind to lotion up until the sun peeked out. And then I did. Thoroughly.

But it was too late.

And my chest and face and burnt. Badly. Enough that I spent the entire evening with a cold compress on my chest and feel a little nauseous this morning.

I am SO mad at myself. I am the poster child for sunburn prevention and yesterday I failed epically.

My face looks ridiculous. As does my chest. But really, my face. Ugh.

I’m hydrating and aloe-ing and am going back to bed because I feel like burnt toast.

Anyone know of any good home remedies for pain/peeling prevention? I’d prefer not to shed all over my friends and family.

Daddy Duty

If how he cares for Kodiak is any indication, Michael will be an amazing father one day.

(Don’t get too excited. I said one day. Not preggers yet, but the few of you who emailed me to ask if I was are super cute. The maternity clothes comment from the other day is nothing but super wishful thinking.)

The first night home with Kodiak after surgery is always tough. He’s drugged, he’s in pain, he can’t really walk and he’s huge, so it’s not like we can just pick him up and carry him around. As a matter of fact, if you could see the maneuvering it took for the two of us to get him out of the back of the SUV, you would laugh.

After his first surgery, I had to leave on a work trip so Michael was home alone with him for the first few days. Kodiak had a bad reaction to a pain patch (that we insist now is never used on him) and was sick — out of both ends — in the middle of the night. I give Michael a lot of credit for cleaning that up.

Now that a different pain medicine is used, Kodiak doesn’t get sick. But he does pace and whine/cry for almost 12 hours, trying to get comfortable and orient himself as the anesthesia wears off. It’s sad. To make it a little easier for him, Michael slept downstairs with him all night, ready if he needed the bathroom, something to eat, or just some love.

My husband is so ready, so available to jump at the first sign that Kodiak needs anything and the way he talks to him when he whimpers in pain is so touching. If he can stay up all night for the dog, he’ll be great when it’s a baby who needs him.

Not that I needed reassurance, but watching him last night gave me just that. My husband is pretty damn awesome and I?

So damn lucky.

Snippits

- This post is late because we spent the morning driving to and from Hartford, CT (about 2 hours each way) to bring Kodiak back to the surgeon who has worked on his leg before. He hasn’t been using the leg to its fullest ability over the last few weeks and then after a romp on the beach this past weekend, he stopped using the leg all together and started hopping on the remaining three!

The surgeon just called to inform us that he has a lateral meniscus tear (in the knee) — an injury that is the only thing that could be left wrong in the leg and very rare. Of COURSE Kodiak tore it. The surgery (his 3rd!) is complete and my sleepy boy is recovering, waiting for us to pick him back up this afternoon. My evening will be spent hand feeding him carrots and yogurt — the only thing he will eat while doped up on pain meds, a combination I discovered by process of elimination after the first surgery.

- Thank you all for weighing in on the dress issue. For those who suggested I don’t wear anything form-fitting because I shouldn’t be taking attention away from the bride, thank you. You gave me a good laugh. I promise, I have good wedding ettiquette and wasn’t planning on wearing a spandex pantsuit. Michael just meant he likes things that flatter my shape a little more.

In the end, I returned the dress. Then I went out and bought a Calvin Klein cocktail dress instead. And then I tried it on for Michael, as well as my rehearsal dinner dress and huh, that one kind of looked better. The one I already own. So I guess I’m returning the second dress too. Go me.

- I grilled steak for dinner last night, something I don’t usually do. Today my stomach HATES ME for it and I always remember too late that even though it tastes good, red meat and my tummy don’t mix. If you’re interested in a little TMI, after a Google search, guess what I found out excess iron (like that in a steak) does to your, er, waste?

 It turns it forest green.

You’re welcome.

Dress HELP

I have two weddings to go to this year and wanted something I could wear to both of them. I’ve tried on a bunch of maxi dresses in the past, but never really found one I liked until today. So I bought it. It’s simple, yet elegant, can be accessorized with fun things and isn’t skin tight so eating lots of appetizers? Yes, please.

I came home and tried it on for Michael, who likes it, but said that he thinks it’s not form fitting enough. He says I have awesome curves (aw, thanks babe) and I should show them off.

So now I’m confused. Should I look for something more form-flattering? Or do I chalk it up to men not really getting fashion and wear it anyway?

Here, you help:

Take this picture for what it is. I mean, it’s a terrible self portrait with unstyled morning frizzy, rainy day hair (because shockingly, it’s still raining here), and I attempted about 10 pictures and sadly, this was the best one. Try to visualize it in person going all the way to the floor.

So what do you think? To maxi dress, or not to maxi dress?

Stretch City

Since becoming unemployed, I’ve noticed my wardrobe has taken a turn for the…comfortable. Stacey and Clinton would be so mad at me. At last count, I had seven pairs of black stretchy yoga pants (four capri, three long) in my rotation. One for every day if you want to look at it that way.

I wear them around the house, to run errands, pop into Starbucks, then repurpose them for exercising before tossing them in the wash. All-purpose clothing, apparently.

I’m not proud of this shift, but if I don’t have a lot to do during the day, I just don’t see the point anymore in dressing to impress at the grocery store. The pants aren’t sloppy. They fit quite nice, actually. I bet you Michael would agree.

And it’s not like I’m wearing them out at night or to a party. Yet.

The only downside to this shift is that black yoga pants? Don’t go with heels. Although, they look super cute with fabulous flats so HA! Win again.

I just remembered, the count is actually at eight. I guess I have to count my black leggings (that I do NOT wear as pants) too.

I do miss the daily routine of dressing up for work. There was something satisfying and rewarding about pairing a cute skirt and top or tailored pants with high heels. Most of my closet is basically rendered useless to me most days as it’s filled with business casual and guess what? Unemployment means very infrequent clothes buying.

I know that eventually I’ll be able to put them back on, (or, you know, buy really cute maternity clothes instead. What?) so in the meantime, I’m just going to enjoy my stretchy pants paradise and hope that I don’t run into the What Not to Wear crew at the grocery store.

WTF

This is totally depressing:

I’m considering packing my bags and moving to anywhere the forecast does NOT look like this. Anyone want to offer their couch for a few days?

Good People

Dear Dan,

We don’t know you personally, but you’ve been so nice to us. It started back in October, when most of my family and a little of Michael’s took over the Hampton Inn during our wedding weekend. There were a lot of us. And they brought guitars. Which they played in your lobby late into the evening. You were great, working the evening shift at the desk and telling me the next day that it was a blast listening to the music and laughter fill your otherwise quiet night.

When I stepped out of the lobby in my wedding dress, there you were again. Did you work a double? You smiled at me, told me I looked great, and wished me luck.

The next night, as an exhausted and happily married couple stood in front of the “Welcome to the Hampton Inn: Our Last Name Wedding!” sign, laughing at how cheesy we were being (yet taking the picture anyway!), you ran over and removed the rest of the information on the sign so it would just be ours.

It’s been almost seven months since we’ve seen you, Dan, but you remembered us as we ran into your lobby at 11 p.m. last night with a request: can we please fax, oh, 15 pages, that have to be out before midnight?

“Of course!” you replied, telling us you remembered us from the wedding and asking how we were. Then you offered to fax everything yourself.

Dan, I don’t know your last name, but I know you’re a good person. Finding someone as courteous, helpful and cheerful (especially at 11 p.m.) as you is quite a feat. We are so appreciative of all the help you have given us, and I hope your boss reads the raving words I wrote about you on the “I caught this employee doing something great!” card that I filled to capacity.

Thank you, Dan, for all your help. There will be a card and a giftcard waiting for you at the desk tonight.

With gratitude,

Molly & Michael