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When we last left off in the Great Diet Saga of 2011, our heroine was fully on-board with the diet and exercise changes necessary to get rid of the nefarious weight she had somehow gained during her first year of cohabitation.
Then she stopped talking in the third person because it was really annoying.
I was on the right track, switching up a lot of my meal and snacking choices and exercising when I could. I was actually seeing some decent results as well- Since my last diet post, I’m down over five pounds.
And Easter happened.
It was the first family gathering since I’d started the big d-word, and the first time when I had little control over what the menu for the day way. Instead, I could focus on portion control and not go apeshit over the abundance of awesome food and chocolatey goodness.
Can we talk about that for a minute? The chocolate?! Because for the love of all that’s holy, I MISS IT. It’s quickly revealed itself to be my one true weakness, and if I don’t enjoy a little of it a day, I become a stabby hellbeast.
Anyway, wah, boring, blah, done with that.
However, Easter presented a new set of challenges in the form of my lovely, sweet, pastel-filled Easter basket. Not only mine, but Army Boy’s too! (Not to worry, I wasn’t tempted by anything that was in Wesley’s treat stash.)
“No big deal,” I thought. “I can handle this. I’ll just have to make my basket last longer than it typically has in the past.” I stuck to my original plan, with the addition of a piece or two of Easter candy each day. I had to get it out of the house, after all.
And THEN, I sprained my knee.
At least, that’s what we’re going with at this point, a few days after the fact when I’m now able to put some weight on it and returned to normal NSAIDS (naproxen) instead of the good shit I was taking immediately after it happened.
I am the queen of “traumatic injury while doing nothing.”
Rather than a fabulous story to tell you about how I was horseback riding through the woods on a summer-like day, and was thrown dramatically off the horse and into a patch of thorny bushes that just happened to be inhabited by an angry hobo….
…I was in the kitchen. Getting my dog some water. And I turned, and suddenly my knee buckled and I couldn’t put weight on it. AWESOME.
Somehow, my timing for “traumatic injury while doing nothing” was awesome, and I was going into a four day weekend during which Puppers was scheduled to get his… ahem…manhood removed. We spent a great deal of time taking it easy together, and though he seemed confused as to why he inexplicably wanted to watch the Royal Wedding* all the time, I wasn’t about to argue with him. Whatever makes you feel better, Wesley.
At this point, I’m willing to go with “sprain” without too much shame, but SHIT. That was NOT fun. And all that I could think about at the time was that my diet was going down the tubes because I would be unable to exercise and I had eaten EASTER CANDY that week. GAH! (Catholic guilt? Or just neurotic? You be the judge.)
It’s safe to say that last week, I tumbled off the diet wagon. My scale attested to the fact, though less significantly than I would have thought. That, at least, was a relief. With another few weeks of good behavior, I should be right back on track.
*GAH! PERFECT! AMAZING! *Swoon!*
Shit. I really need to stop with the descriptive post titles, since I basically told you EVERYTHING. Right THERE.
Let’s just say that March truly lived up to its reputation of coming in like a lion, and knocked me flat for the better part of last week. There were all kinds of hijinks involving the local ER, lots of iv fluids and meds, and many days off work. And it was not remotely fun.
I am not sad to see last week in the rearview mirror, let me tell you. Now we just cross our fingers that Momma Darcy and Army Boy, who were my lovely nurses (No really… the first stomach bug together is a fabulous test of whether you should actually be getting married. UGH.) don’t end up with my affliction.
In the interest of being totally honest with the bloggy world, there’s a bit of the “grass is greener” coming into play with the new position, which was started in October. I don’t doubt that I got out of the last one in the nick of time, but there are “other” things going on right now that are very “big brother” and shady. For the time being, I like the job I’m doing and am in a position to take the wedding time off that I need, and that is where I’ll cool my heels.
I have no desire to get Dooce’d (unless it should happen to work out as fabulously for me as it has for her) and will keep my thoughts on the subject to a minimum. Other than to say that unfortunately, when you are planning a wedding, you are sometimes required to deal with wedding business DURING the business day. As long as it’s not GREATLY compromising your ability to work (and easily trackable stats would show that it is not), there should be no issue.
This is to say that should I seem to be less available than even previously, it’s not because I don’t love you all. I am just… balancing.
Let’s leave that unhappy topic, shall we?
Toward the end of February, we reached the point where I was starting to feel under the gun about booking for the honeymoon. Way back when we decided that the wedding was going to be in October, we wrote off the possibility of travel to the Caribbean. The anxiety over whether our trip would be lousy because of hurricane season wasn’t a risk that we were willing to take.
We started getting creative, trying to come up with destinations that would fit our definition of “honeymoon” without the threat of possible catastrophic weather. We were able to rule out a cruise right away, as that was basically the same problem AND the trip that Army Boy took the first time around (awkward!). Because of some of the recent gang activity in Mexico, he felt pretty strongly that we should avoid heading that direction as well.
My criteria was pretty vague- I wanted us to get pampered (massages please!) and I’ve always held to the preprogrammed notion that a honeymoon is supposed to involve swimming and relaxing. With our ruled-out destinations, I started to get creative in pondering some trips that we could take within the US, in October, that could fit the bill.
My first thought was of the fabulous trip my family took to Lake Placid a few summers ago. Although it didn’t necessarily fit my mental picture of us lounging in the sun, I knew that the resort that we stayed at had a gorgeous indoor pool and hot tub, plus Jacuzzi tubs in the rooms we’d be staying in. And an incredible spa. And amazing food. The only downside to that trip would be the cost. We couldn’t swing a very long honeymoon at that particular resort.
Being the nerd that I am (I KNOW YOU ARE SHOCKED), my next thought was of Universal’s Wizarding World of Harry Potter. I must go there, quite simply put. Army Boy has never been to Disney, so the idea began to take shape of a combination trip to both parks. We’d stay on the Disney property and make use of their awesome transportation system, but make sure to work in a day or two at Universal, AND a day to do nothing but relax, swim, spa, or otherwise enjoy being in Florida.
It seemed like the perfect solution to our honeymoon dilemma, and I went ahead and bought the 2011 Disney guidebook to begin planning our adventure to the letter.
However, that didn’t stop me from occasionally checking out other wild ideas that came to mind. A certain Mexican resort was ranked top on Trip Advisor? Checked it out. The Yezel had an amazing time on her honeymoon and is already booked to go back for her anniversary?! Checked THAT out. Ooo, a romantic resort in Canada. Must research.
Army Boy observed my research with amusement, often stating “you really have no idea where you want to go.”
“Yes HUH,” I’d retort. “We’re going to Florida.” (I am eloquent and also mature.)
Did it occasionally cross my mind that spending your
Sexfest Honeymoon with a crapload of other people’s kidlets might not be the most romantic thing? Possibly. But there’s Epcot! Kids hate World Showcase, and I love it! And I looked up hotel rooms further from the main transport lines, and thus less likely to be hot spots for families with little ones! And! And! We were going to MAKE it romantic, dammit. And have an amazing time!
It may not have helped the issue that I was doing a lot of my planning during the months when we’ve been hit with winter weather, and when sun exposure is at a low. The lack of vitamin D to my brain started to make me question whether Disney was, in fact, the right honeymoon choice. Both for us and for me.
In a lot of the wedding planning thus far, there’s been a little voice in the back of my head that likes to chime in at inconvenient times. It usually says exactly the same thing, with minor variation:
“When you look back at the wedding, do you want to remember… [wearing this dress, feeling like you should have lost weight, a Disney honeymoon]”
I hate that voice.
But sometimes, it may have a point. The true question was: Should I listen to it, or was I just in the grip of February madness?! Would all things seem happy and bright again after we were able to spend more time out of the house, not gazing out and rain and snow? Or, as the title suggests, am I suffering from a combination of Seasonal Affective Disorder* and Extreme Indecision?**
We reached a solution. But I’ve gone on long enough in this particular post.
(EVIL, TRICKSY WAY OF SAYING “TO BE CONTINUED!!!”)
*- This is not in any way meant to be disparaging to those who deal with depression. Having come out the other side myself, I’m with you.
**– Poor, poor Army Boy.
“Gee,” you’re all wondering. “What on earth could have distracted Brooke from her now (pathetically) weekly posting??”
Well, when I should have been searching the dark scary corners of my brain for material for a new post that was hopefully not wedding related (there’s only so much relatively interesting information to share about the planning process), Army Boy decided that it would be a good time to get deathly ill.
Actually, this IS wedding related, as the onset of his illness occurred right before we were scheduled to go out and eat at the hotel where we’re getting married. He reported having a “funny stomach” as we were heading out the door, and by the time we’d finished the delicious appetizers and moved on to the main course, he was looking a little pale. We ended up ordering dessert (tiramisu and dark chocolate raspberry torte, please) to go and heading for a home a little earlier than planned.
He went straight to bed, and I expected him to awaken the next morning looking refreshed and feeling better.
No dice. He was pale and listless, had no appetite and was referring to his stomachache being in the area of his bellybutton.
Now, I’ve watched enough ER to know that abdominal pain beginning in the area of the bellybutton is an indicator of… *drumroll please….* Appendicitis!
I snuck away while he was napping in the afternoon and talked to the ever-helpful Web MD to check on his symptoms. While he had some, he wasn’t running a fever or having other nasty GI symptoms other than pain, nausea and lack of appetite. I kept my suspicion to myself, but thought that a doctor visit Monday would be a good idea if he didn’t improve.
Apparently our family doctor shared my concerns, and after a round of tests and an exam, we were told “it MIGHT be his appendix. Keep an eye on it, go to the ER, follow up, yadda yadda…”
Fast forward through an ER visit, a CT scan and another normal round of bloodwork, and it’s not the appendix, thank the sweet innocent Baby Jesus.
That’s not really the crux of my latest update though. Oh no, it’s not.
See, as we were sitting in the waiting room of the hospital imaging center, watching the latest round of smut TV about Halle Berry’s custody battle with her (apparently racist?) baby daddy, Army Boy directed my attention to a sign on the wall.
“Attention Hospital Patrons:
Due to recent satisfaction survey responses, the following programming will be blocked from viewing.
~The Jerry Springer Show
We appreciate your feedback and will continue to yadda yadda something about your hospital experience.”
My first thought was “OF COURSE. Because we’re in CONSERVATIVE COUNTY, PA, where God Forbid someone should have to hear the heathen Maury Povich as background noise while they’re drinking a barium smoothie and waiting for a cat-scan.”
My second thought was “What the hell?!!? Why wouldn’t you want to see people that have it so much worse than you while drinking your barium smoothie and waiting for a CAT-scan? I mean, yeah, that stuff tastes nasty, but at least you’re not sleeping with a woman who’s actually a guy/midget/circus performer. And aren’t you intrigued to find out WHO that girl’s baby daddy is, even though they’ve already tested the 36 other guys she slept with in the possible week period when she was ovulating? I mean, DAMN, that girl has some STAMINA. Who wants to live in a world without “Can I have the envelope, please?!!?!’”
Apparently people in Conservative County, PA. That’s who. Although Halle Berry’s Baby Daddy Drama was playing out before my eyes at that very moment.
All this to say that if I am asked MY opinion, you’d better believe that they’ll receive a strongly worded letter about how utterly offensive I find the Quilting Channel.
(Or- The time that Danielle wanted to bug Army Boy about puttin’ a ring on it, already… and then bugged someone else.)
Danielle [3:27 PM]:
Now you should subscribe to wedding mags!
Brooke [3:27 PM]:
Danielle [3:28 PM]:
and go to magazine sites
and ORDER, ORDER
im excited….because I get a friend to be engaged with me!
Brooke [3:28 PM]:
Danielle [3:28 PM]:
Tell Army Boy I want him to hurry up
Brooke [3:29 PM]:
it could be WEEEEEEKS
Danielle [3:29 PM]:
at the end of week 2 I will be txting
not for your sake…but for MINE!
Brooke [3:29 PM]:
i think you can text him that now.
Danielle [3:30 PM]:
Brooke [3:31 PM]:
poor Army Boy
Danielle [3:31 PM]:
hell just have to deal with it
i bet he has no response to what i wrote
Danielle [3:33 PM]:
“So i heard its engagement ring time! Hurry up, mister. I need my friend to be engaged too. I cant be the only oneeeeee!”
Brooke [3:33 PM]:
we’ll see. he’s in the shower now
(Suddenly, Brooke the Genius realizes that Brian changed his number back when The Divorce was final… and doesn’t know if she shared that fact with Danielle. Uh oh.)
Leggat, Brooke [3:36 PM]:
what # do you have for AB? did we update when he got the new number?
Danielle [3:36 PM]:
I just got a response form dylan smucker….
“This is dylan smucker. Haha who is this? And I guess congratulations.”
I need his new number
Brooke [3:37 PM]:
Danielle [3:38 PM]:
im going to be best friends with dylan smucker now
(The mix-up was sorted out and Army Boy did get the appropriate level of harassment. But WOW. Just… WOW.)