Sunday, December 14, 2014

We're Celebrating Our Candy Year!

I'm not sure whether to reintroduce myself, make an excuse, or just keep plowing through as though nothing has... well... not happened. Let's face it, as far as you know, I could have died sometime in April, and I am writing from the grave. The reality is that I'm sitting in my favorite chair, Lilly on one side, Henri on the other (we'll get to him in a minute), listening to Frank Sinatra sing about mistletoe and holly. If you were hoping this post was going to kick off the zombie apocalypse, sorry to disappoint. The truth is, I don't know where all of my time went. I blinked, and it's ten days to Christmas. It seems like just yesterday I was lying on an operating table, trying to figure out what parts of me needed to be removed. Maybe by breaking it down, we can figure it out together? Or not, I mean, you're the best judge of your own time, man.
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I missed you, Reggie.


Thyroid removal took place May 9th, and things turned out fine in the end. I had one week to recover before the summer semester began, and I started a full twelve hour schedule -- who said it was a good idea to do twelve hours in the summer? Save yourselves. Of course, since I cannot be tamed, I decided it was a good idea, eleven days after surgery, to pull a girls only road trip to Denver to see Sean Lennon and Charlotte Kemp Muhl's Ghost of a Saber Tooth Tiger. It was as disastrous as it sounds, and I might publicly air my permanent shame sometime in the next month, if it tickles my fancy (why not? You already know how horrific my band experiences are).
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Five weeks after the surgery, I also thought it would be awesome to pull a one day drive to Albuquerque to go to Warped Tour. It wasn't as ghastly as what happened in Denver, but it didn't end well, either. Maybe, one day, I will be able to meet bands and not do something I will regret. I doubt that will be anytime soon, but you never know.
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In July, I inadvertently got stuck in a four week class, which brutally murdered me, and I am actually writing from the grave. The only other time I have been in a four week class, I swore I would never do it again; I couldn't help that they rearranged all of the dates, and I was stuck with it. Of course, I don't do anything half-heartedly. I decided to do the course in two weeks. A sixteen week course, in two weeks. And I actually did it. Because I don't love myself enough.
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Rather than using my ten day break between summer and fall semesters for something fun, like sleeping, I decided it would be better to be certified in not one, but two separate leadership courses that were offered to me by the college. By the time I finished that, the fall semester had begun.
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In September, we loaded up the car, and went to South Padre Island. Yes, another island. Because we all know how much I love islands (nope, nuh-uh).
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Yet, on the way back home, we stopped at a little roadside market, and discovered a boatload of birds. We hemmed. We hawed. We drove five miles, pulled over in a church parking lot, and debated. Long story short, this is Henri. He's an orange factor canary, and he is gorgeous. I have another Pop Punk Prince, and we have been enjoying each other immensely.
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His favorite things are rice, apple slices, and Nick Santino. I am training him well.


In October, we saw this guy. Twice.
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We missed you, never get sick again, ever.

We went to the state fair and had fried cheese on a stick, because it's incredibly hard to not eat meat and go to a state fair to find something for lunch.
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This dude is scary. Do not let the innocent children view him, he will give them nightmares for life.

We went to the mountains for a weekend.
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And I was whisked away for a top secret birthday surprise, because nobody likes you when you're twenty-three.
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Since I never learn my lesson, I decided that I could get two eight week courses done in one month. After all, Christmas is coming, and I hate the college schedule. When I was a homeschooler, I would work until the week of Thanksgiving, and take my long break through the first of January; I've never cared for summer, so I would work all through the hot months to take off during the holiday season. I haven't been able to do that since I started college, and I felt like I deserved it. So I actually did finish the work for two classes in one month. I was done with everything November 21st, and have been refraining from submitting it to make it look like I've been doing everything with the rest of the classes.

In the meantime, I've been spending the season with my family. Admittedly, we don't do much, but we have fun doing nothing. Wrapping presents, decorating, baking and candy making (I made divinity for the first time ever, and it's gone over quite well), and, of course, sending Christmas cards have all been done on my schedule, not that of some deluded college professor.

What makes all of this so amazing to me is that patients who undergo spinal fusion are supposed to take it easy for the first year after surgery. I should have been moving at a snail's pace until August 9th of this year, and I've been able to keep up with the demands of living quite well, save for a few sinus infections (do you ever think you're going to become one of those people they talk about on medication commercials who are 'prone to infection'? I think I might be one of those people).

In other words, over seven months mysteriously disappeared. It isn't much of an explanation, but it's what I've got.
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The lack of posts indicates that an end-of-year poem was not doable. BUT. That would we inaccurate. I now present the 2014 Blog In Review haiku.

Thyroid debacle
and the Rolling Stones can't touch
a concert story.


What more can I say? I'm a sucky blogger.
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