hiatus in houston

Going to Houston was a good decision. I miss Ralph and George, but Uncle Geoff seems to have it all under control in the cat-sitting department. (And really, how hard is it? As long as you don't forget their morning Sheba, in which case you'll likely require stitches at some point later in the day.....they're pretty self sufficient.) The change of scenery is helpful, and it broke up my busy schedule of crying, sleeping, and crying more. J has been busy all week with training downtown, so I've had a chance to hang out with MIL and eat chocolate. You may not find balanced meals in this house, but she's ALWAYS got chocolate on hand! It's been a nice week. Still tough to deal with certain things at certain times, but the distraction is good for me.

Morning 1: MIL was up and out early to teach at the college, leaving me and the pups home alone. I woke up around 8 and didn't bother getting changed out of my pajamas before heading downstairs. I'm wearing tiny boxer shorts and a worn and torn old t-shirt (UND Homecoming 1984- this shirt shows its' 23 years of wear and tear). No shoes, no bra, no problem...I thought. Until I stepped onto the back patio to give the dogs their food. The door shuts behind me and because I'm so full of craptastic luck these days....it locks. I know it before I even try the handle. I just know. Oh, *&^%$#@'n fabulous. At that point normal, non-hormonally imbalanced people would have checked the windows or logically figured out an alternative entrance. Not this nutjob! I sat down and sobbed. And sobbed. I'm outside, I'm half dressed, I have no idea when MIL gets home, I'm in the company of three dogs who think we're playing some super fun game, and obviously I have no phone. Even if I had a phone, I have no idea what MIL's cell number is (who memorizes numbers these days?) After about a half hour I decide I've got two options: a) hang out in the yard all day, pee in a bucket in the garage, go into Survivor mode and tough this out as the mercury climbs to 95...or b) suck it up and start knocking on doors until I find someone home with a phone. I went with Option B, found a friend and neighbor of the IL's, and an hour and 20 phone calls to J's phone to get his mother's number later, had the code to the hide-a-key box and, phew, back inside with AC and toilets. And chocolate. I took it as a karmic sign to appreciate the little things- you know, like the fact that I don't live outside or pee in a garage.

I'm in a decent mood today because in exactly 1 week and 7 hours, I get to see:

MY FRIENDS! Sara gets married next weekend and we'll all be back in Grand Forks to partake in the festivities. I can't wait. Since my family has moved around so much, going back to GF gives me that feeling of going home. Although it smells like rotten beets when the weather's warm and ranks right up there with Antarctica when the weather's cold (aka: October through May), that city saw a whole lot of fun times for me in the early 2000s. Briefly- it's where I met my husband, where I learned the true meaning of friendship from girls who were there no matter the time or place, and where I had the fantastic and enviable opportunity to bend over in a miniscule green skirt in front of 10,000 green clad hockey fans as a part of the Chuck a Puck competition. In a trying time when I sometimes struggle to recall who I was or what I enjoyed even six months ago, going back to GF will probably remind me of how much fun I was/how much fun I had before being bitten by the rotten baby bug. I may come home with a hangover, but when that clears, I think I'll be a bit happier too.