I have concerns about this

by Joey | Aug 26, 2013 | Throwback

Buies Creek to Raleigh is an hour drive.  But if you want any kind of actual civilization (I’m talking stores, restaurants, TARGET for crying out loud), it’s a necessary drive.  The husband and I typical do this on Sundays.  Which lately has been our day.  I’m so thankful for Sundays.

So let me set the scene.  I’m driving because it was me who really (i.e. beggedtogetoutofthehouse) wanted to go.  And the husband was coming off a insane work week.  This meant I had control over the radio.  If he’s driving, country is on.  If I’m driving, it’s generally pop.  And that horrible Miley Cyrus We Can’t Stop song comes on (this is pre-VMAs so luckily I didn’t have to envision her disgusting performance).  I’d missed the turn for the gas station, so I wasn’t paying attention enough to change the channel.  And then the words bleed from the stereo:

Hands in the air like we don’t care.

To which my husband, who is also the funniest person I know, replies ever so casually. 

When did putting your hands in the air become a symbol of not caring?

You’re getting robbed?  You put your hands in the air.

That’s the farthest thing from not caring.

::puts hands in the air as if he’s being robbed::

::voice trembling as if in fear::

I HAVE CONCERNS ABOUT THIS.

And that, my friends, is what a typical ride to Raleigh looks like in my car.  It’s an hour worth of random funnies from the husband.

When normal seems awesome.

by Joey | Aug 21, 2013 | Throwback

I’ve got a candle burning.  Laundry is tumbling around in the back room, and I have a kitten climbing all over me.  My todo list is incredibly long but the coffee brewing in the kitchen makes it all seem feasible.  

Yesterday was a rough day.  And I’ll tell you what, nothing makes waking up feeling normal seem better than spending an entire day feeling horrible.  

I went in for a CT scan yesterday.  I was bitter in the first place for even having to go in for one.  Hell, you guys.  I went in to the doctor last week hoping for a simple solution: take my gall bladder.  Wam. Bam. Thank you Ma’am.  

But no.

When they came back with the news after my ultrasound that my gall bladder was just fine, I was grabbing my bag and hopping off the table chalking the pain up to indigestion.  Whatever, no more salsa.  I can handle that.  But when the doctor stopped me telling me that instead they found three cysts on my liver, I just blinked at him.  What does that even mean?  Yeah.  I’d like to know, too.

So they needed a CT to get a better grasp on what’s going on.  I’ve had scans in the past.  We all know I’m not a healthy girl.  But I just don’t remember it being so awful.  The contrast–and just the sheer AMOUNT–they make you drink is just unfair.  And every time I thought I was done, they’d bring out more for me to swallow.  And just when I was done with that–they bring on the news that I’d also need an IV contrast (iodine, in case you’re wondering).  It was frigidly cold in the room which makes being poked with a needle feel even better.  Especially when she poked me close to ten times before finding a good vein.  And then she tells me that a warmth will rush over me it’ll kind of feel like you peed on the table.  And oh, my gosh was she right.  If she hadn’t warned me I would have been scrambling for a towel.

I have no news, guys.  And there really isn’t much of a point to this post except that this is my space–the place I can just put out there what’s floating around in my world.  And that’s what’s going on.  All of those chemicals hanging out in my body yesterday made me feel just down right bad.  And the worse I felt, the more bitter I’d get towards the entire situation.

But today I feel good.  I have a candle burning.  Laundry is tumbling around in the back room, and I have a kitten climbing all over me.

You Have…

by Joey | Aug 19, 2013 | Throwback

We were pulling out of the Philly’s parking lot.  You were in the white Chevy truck behind my Camry.  We were going our separate ways.  Hardly official and already the hiding had started.  It was a gorgeous afternoon.  I had 94.7 QDR (country) on the radio.  That was no surprise.  It’s what we all listened to.  I  made a right turn out of the lot and a song came on.  A song I’d always liked.  I had a car full of girlfriends, but beneath the girl talk I could hear the words to the song.

And then my phone rang.

My heart skipped a beat–it was you.  Funny how your call could do that even just seconds after I’d seen you.

“You listening to 94.7?”

“Yeah,” I replied, confused.

“Turn it up.  Listen carefully.”

I was silent as I did as I was told.

“You hear that?  I can do that.”

I can love you like that

I would make you my world

Move Heaven and Earth, if you were my girl

I will give you my heart 

Be all that you need

Show you you’re everything that’s precious to me

If you give me a chance

I can love you like that.

It’s been ten years.  Ten years of growth, change and love.  We grew up together.  And I can assure you, you have loved me like that.  We were told we were kids.  That our love couldn’t last.  We were told we’d grow apart; that we’d change beyond recognition.  But even as those two love sick kids, we knew well enough to put our trust in each other.  And we did change.  But we changed together.  Like a dance perfectly choreographed we knew the steps to take.  My Uncle John asked me on our graduation day where I saw myself in ten years.  I thought long and hard.  I knew to expect the question, what graduating senior doesn’t get asked some variation of it.  But I didn’t know the answer.  All I knew for sure was that you were my constant.  Happy.  With him, I replied.

I didn’t lie.

I just knew.

You and I were built to last.

You have been my one true constant over the last ten years.  The one I can always rely on.  Even when I’m flailing and so totally unsure of myself, you’ve been my center.  You are the one thing I am always sure of.  

My dearest husband, Happy 10 years.  

I love you.