I might die. Well at least get fat.

Thanksgiving break was really rough on the waist of my pants (and the behind area). Really rough. We had five thanksgivings in four days and I made it through all of them slightly nauseous, waddling, and damn near incapacitated. On the fourth one I cried because I couldn't get my pants to button.

We hosted our first thanksgiving which was also our first shin-dig in our new house. It was great and we slaved away in the kitchen for almost twelve hours. It was an entirely gluten free thanksgiving and it was delicious; the skeptics agreed. The other four had special dishes made especially for me that were gluten free so I couldn't not eat them.
Although it doesn't help that we've recently gotten into expensive cheese and wine. And by expensive cheese I mean one trip to whole foods and the cheese center shelf by the deli at Publix with the cheap to expensive mix (we went for the inbetween) and by wine I mean really sissy stuff (and some including Arbor Mist, as alex says, "made by women for women") because I don't really like wine.

That probably didn't help the pants problem. Neither does the hip flexor injury that kept me from running for a week.

Ridiculous.
I did drag my larger than normal ass out of bed this morning before class for a run. With each painful step I reminded myself of my now jiggly booty and the courthouse wedding monday.

Oh, we're getting married early. As in we signed the marriage license yesterday and going to the courthouse monday. Don't worry, I'm not knocked up. But I don need insurance and albeit the county offers good insurance for us paramedics, the basic insurance is forty dollars more than what it would cost for us both to be on his insurance which is a lot better and covers a lot more. That and I need financial aid for school.
Apparently being twenty one with your shit together, a job most people turn into a career, and trying to better yourself to help mankind does not qualify for getting financial help to do so.
The trashy hoodlin's in my class? Well, they DO qualify.

work has been busy and by busy I mean I apparently bring hell with me to work.
We got toned out for a call as soon as I got to the station to start my shift and ten minutes later I was intubating. I proceeded to pace someone, run a stroke alert, wrestle with a combative 'Nam veteran who was hypoglycemic and ETOH, and treat SVT in a psych pt.
It was busy.

He's sick, which means I'll probably die. Usually he coughs once or has a tickle in the back of his throat for half a day and the next thing I know I'm retching until my lips turn blue with a 104 fever and half a foot in the grave. Joke is on him because we're not legally married yet and I'm up to renew my life insurance policy. Ha! (Kidding). So yesterday I made some homemade soup on the crocpot and baekd a loaf of cheese/french bread that I expertly timed to come out of the oven 10 minutes before he made it home from work.
I know, I know, I'm a domestic goddess.

False, our house is a wreck and I'm pretty sure I re-injured my hip flexor when I tripped over his batman boxers that were on the floor. Fail.

long time no um, ramble.

Alright, so I've been about as consistent with this thing as I have been with rationing my panera trips. Which is a complete failure. I still go there at least twice a week, if not, and usually more. (Hey it's a great place to study and they don't mind if I just buy one cup of hot tea and refill it ahundred times over the next six hours I spend occupying my favorite seat in the house. Well, technically two because it takes two tables to successfully house my textbooks, notebooks, laptop, and pen in every color).

So here's some tid-bits from my life recently:

 I went wedding dress shopping. Origionally I wasn't going to have any wedding updates here since this was kind of my thing and I made an entirely diferent blog for that but considering I haven't done any wedding planning (besides booking a venue -yuuuuus) and dress shopping IS all about me, I'll do it here (and possibly there).
I went on this diet three weeks out from my appointment date because I wanted to lose all the weight I gained in paramedic school, then the weight I gained from being out of paramedic school and celebrating being out, and then the weight I gained from moving into our new place with our ridiculously large kitchen, and my insatiable love and need of cooking.

I did great and a week out I had lost all the weight (and then some) I had planned on. I was feeling great, I was looking great, I was great.
And then I got sick. Not just kind of sick, pathetic, snot bubble blowing, spiking 103 fevers every night, kind of sick. Trust me, it was a lot cuter than it sounds (and I snored even LOUDER. Sorry, Alex). So sick infact that I shoved the logic out of my head and let my stupid pride ride shot gun; I went on a six mile run. Ended up in a whimpering ball in the shower and I swear I could feel my pulse on the back of my eye balls.
I couldn't even sleep. Why? I kept waking up to cramps and having to pee.
Thank you mother nature and crappy kidneys, I was being double teamed by my two sets of twins.

So, what do I do with my hormonal, snotty, scolding hot (in a bad way) self?
Bake. Good thing my mom bought me so much gluten free flour huh?
White chocolate chip cookies, pear cobbler, ooey-gooey cake/ginger snap/white chocolate/marshmellow bars, casseroles, and about three bags of Brach's candy corn pumpkins.

Luckily and unluckily I live about 4 blocks from a very large, open late walgreens. So, every night I jogged up there at a pitifully slow pace as my ill body whined and protested, for a redbox movie and chocolate or (sometimes and) candy corn pumpkins. Both were on sale all week.

Needless to say, I not only gained  the weight back, I think I gained more. And then I thought I gained more ontop of that because of that lovely hormonal roller coaster mother nature likes to give us like throwing salt in the wound. No, bleeding and cramps aren't enough. Let's make you want to avoid every reflective surfact like the plague too.

-Alright, I just got back from a call so I completely lost my train of thought.

OH, that reminds me. Apparently with this fancy patch comes the blackest of black clouds.
Seriously, on my first day I did a procedure most paramedic's will retire without ever doing.
First.fucking.day.
Second out at that.

Although it made it a save.
I guess the praying to sweet baby jesus and all the f-bombs worked. Or I actually know what I'm doing.
All the senior medics hugged me and high fived me.
And offered to buy me a drink Ha.


annnnddd coffee does not make a headache better.
Neither does reading a biology textbook at almost 1am with a smudge on your glasses.



Did I mention I almost died last week?
I locked myself in my art studio and called him crying that I lost the house and had to retreat and our dog is the most fail predator to ever live. Seriously.

Biggest.flying.roach.ever.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of emotions as I've settled into a new life after a year pretty much took it captive. A year not necessarily wasted because without it, I may not have ever pursued my current goal. Before that year, I never thought I could. So in a way, it's a year I'm thankful for and a year that has certainly made me stronger and realize what I will not take and my actual potential. In the grand scheme of things, it was a kick in the ass. But up close? I still wouldn't walk across the street to piss on him if he was on fire.

We're stepping into the beginning of autumn but here in Florida summers breath still holds ferth. It makes me long to pack up and move to the mountains. Disregard responsibilities and set forth to higher ground with warmer leaves and cooler air.

I've been running more. I let my long runs slip in the midst of the move and fall semester. I felt myself going stir crazy. My body was anxious and my joints were grinding against each other. My body was metaphorically chomping at the bit. I think it's what a puppet must feel like; stiff, cramped, and dusted. I needed to unfold, stretch, and dust the spiderwebs from the neurons in my brain. I needed free thinking and I needed a lot of ground.

And I needed discovery.

So, I hit the road and this time there wasn't a set running path, there wasn't a set goal, there wasn't a set distance or time; there was my asics, a few hours of battery left on my ipod, and me. I ended up running around five miles before I decided I'd given the holy terrors ample time to drool, knock over, urinate, or generate tumbleweeds of hair the size of texas in my house. Besides, I dived in at the hottest time of the day and Florida showed little mercy. The next day I repeated it.
Five miles is pretty pitiful. Even though it was five invigorating, feverish, perpetual miles. It whithers in respcet to my other runs. None the less it was five miles that wasn't there before. When I got home I couldn't wait to go back. I wanted to right then. Irresponsible.

I obsess and I'm obsessing over the next three weeks. It'll either turn out with the best results ever (read, healthiest) or a complete failure.But I feel like it's needed because it's a last hoorah over getting one up. Over having something to hold onto. It's complicated. Pretty messed up. And slightly more painful.
And somehow, hopefully, I'll reach a few small accomplishments in the process. Or at least make headway.