Ty left this morning at 6am for a flight to CA for work. 6am! First of all - it's Sunday. And he has to work today. That's no fun for him.

But back to me.

I'm so bored this morning without him here. He's left on a work trip on a weekend before, and now I remember how much I hate it. (Allotta - I don't know how you do this all the time.)

I love our weekends together - especially Sunday's. Typically we'll wake up and play with the pups in bed for a little while before Ben can't handle it anymore and tosses himself off the bed only to park himself in our door way with this look that says "Seriously? Get up. You are so lazy." Then we'll put on our Sunday Best (me in my lulu workout pants that are covered in dog hair, and a faded black zip up with a broken zipper; Ty always looks decent - big shocker). We'll get the dogs ready and we'll cram into the Jeep and head to our favorite Starbucks. Ty will get a drip coffee and a donut (so low maintenance), and he'll order me my tall soy 1 pump caramel latte and artisan ham sandwich, minus the ham (so not). As he waits in the line that is practically out the door, I find the two cozy blue chairs and sprawl our stuff over them to ensure everyone knows that they are taken. (Lately, I will obsess over several games of Snood, while he educates himself and reads the paper.)

We take little breaks in between games and articles to peek out the window only to see the pups intensely staring at the front door to Starbucks waiting to see us come out. They don't know we are looking out at them through a side window and it's enough to make your heart burst out of your chest. It only takes about 3 peeks before we are ready to go reunite with them again.

The rest of the day usually involves catching up on intelligent shows like Jersey Shore, Diners, Drive-In's & Dives, and Modern Family before we decide to get started on dinner that lately we've been making together over a fun cocktail, or 5.

Today will be different.

And I need to get over it. 

But I won't.

Not until Tuesday night when he's back home again.

Thank God I go back to work tomorrow. This is pathetic.

circles

I don't like death. I am not OK with it. There's nothing good about it. Nothing comforting. It's. just. sad. It's sad. I don't like thinking about losing people close to me and I will admit that there are times I freak myself out. What if Ty didn't make it home tonight? What if something happened to my brother in NYC? What if pedicures with my mom on Saturday was the last time we did that together? What if, what if, what if. It's horrible. It's depressing to think about that. Does anyone else do this, or did I just wave my freak flag loud and proud?

Anyway.

This past week on one of my all time favorite shows - The Bachelor - our dear Shawntel decided to take us behind the scenes at her place of work - the mortuary. No freaking thank you. Ever since this episode, I have these images of things I never asked to witness. Yes, I could have zipped through it on my DVR, but every time I thought to do it, I thought it was almost over. It was so incredibly disturbing to watch her put poor Brad up there on the table and talk through what she would do to him if he were one of her "customers" - what tools she'd use, what would happen to him when she used the tools on him. The absolute worst part of the entire segment was when she opened up the burner that people get cremated in. What?! I know. Sick. Scary. Again, no freaking thank you.

I know there are some people out there, like Shawntel, that are not at all bothered by these concepts. They have the magical power of removing the emotion from situations like this. They are able to separate the body from that of the soul. The body carries the soul and because the soul is gone, it's just a shell. While this all sounds good and fine, I am not there.

I realize this blog post doesn't necessarily address my typical topics (i.e. the love I have for my sweet husband, changes in life, purpose, lessons, etc.) it's a realization I've had about myself this week. I don't like death. Who does? What I mean is, I don't like thinking about it (even though I torture myself sometimes per my earlier freak flag waving) - as real, as necessary, and as natural as it is. I get it. It's the circle of life.

I just don't like circles.

That's all. 

you have purpose

Today I was reminded, yet again, that so many of us go through tough times, and it's our faith that reminds us that anything is possible. It's the hurt that helps us tell our story.

I am a big believer that everyone's life is a story. We all are connected in some way by all of the things that come our way - good, bad, expected, unexpected. They make us human - imperfect, vulnerable, lovable, relateable and grateful. They make us stronger. They make us more intentional. I love that word - intentional.

Living our lives with purpose.

As I reflect on today, I think about all of the relationships in my life and I am reminded of all of their stories. The stories that make them such incredible women, men, mothers, fathers, friends, sisters, brothers. People. Thank you for living your life with purpose, and never settling for what might be, but for what will be.

And for my special friend today, it WILL be alright because it's bigger than just this moment. This chapter of yours has purpose.

You have purpose.

Bacon No More (for now...)

About four hours before I wrote my last post, Ty and I decided to pound about 2lbs of bacon between us for dinner. It was "breakfast for dinner night". With our bacon, we had a side of french toast. About four hours after I wrote the post, I got the flu.

Not only did I miss out on a trip to San Francisco that morning, I also lost my cookies... or shall I say, bacon. I woke up at about 3:30 am knowing it was over for me. Annie and Dumond had been extremely sick just 24 hours before, and I had been watching their sweet baby girl. Annie had warned me of the early symptoms but I thought I was in the clear. Not so much.

As I spent the morning having intimate relations with our toilets (yes, I made trips to all three), Ty tried to convince me it was "all in my head" and that it was nothing a little ginger ale and Ammodium couldn't fix. He even drove to the store at 4:30am to pick me up the goods in a Seattle-Snow-Storm (you know, about 2.5 inches of snow that practically shut the streets down for a whole 2 hour window). As nice as that was, it didn't matter. I was sick. Really sick.

By noon, I was at a local walk in clinic and hooked up to my first of two IVs for dehydration. Thank God for Annie who came over and picked me (and my mixing bowl turned throw up catcher) up and took me there. I would have probably died that day with out her. (Exaggeration alert - maybe not "die", but whatever happens to you right before you die.)

That day I made the decision that bacon and I were no longer going to be friends. No more BLTs, no more bacon and egg sammy's... no. more. bacon.

Last week, I watched Oprah to see the Vegan Experiment episode and decided that I'd give it a try too - for the animals. Since last Wednesday, I haven't had any meat. (The dairy part is harder because everyone knows I love mayo, sour cream, and cheese.) What I've learned in a week is that while I don't really miss the meat, I do miss being low maintenance - when it comes to food. Ty is embarrassed by the excitement I get when I find a substitute at the store. It's almost a game now. What's for dinner? Tacos. With Veggie Crumbles!!!!  (Ty's skillet has meat in it, mine has something that looks just like meat, and pretty much tastes just like it - it's amazing! He is so annoyed with me.)

Today, at a seminar, I had to have them make me my own separate breakfast and lunch plate. I could feel the eyes staring at me and knew what they were thinking:

w e i r d o.

I know this because that's exactly what I used to think when someone would make a big deal about not eating meat.

Well, that's me now. And it's not stopping me.

For now.