And With That We Are Five..For A Week

I promised not to embarrass him, and I meant to not embarrass him. But I didn't feel like ONE goodbye picture was too much to ask. I didn't hug or kiss him in front of his friends but I think I am feeling his judgment in this picture. MOM PLEASE STOP DOING THAT.

Fine, I stopped doing that. He's gone to South Carolina for a week doing camping stuff with his friends and I loved camp so I'm not going to be all paranoid and worried. It's the longest he's ever been gone. But he's going to be fine, I might not, but he will.

We came home and the girl ruled it imperative that we make some coffee. That's her overseeing the Keurig as it brews. She thinks it's important to watch it so that you know it's done. She tells me this is helping. Who am I to argue.

She has the solemn charge of being in charge of Doggie while Louis is gone. She's taking it very seriously, keeping me abreast of how Doggie feels without Louis. And while Louis was so worried about ME embarrassing him in front of his dorky Boy Scout friends, it was his sister who shouted "I GET TO TAKE CARE OF DOGGIE WHILE HE IS GONE!" holding up the red dog and showing his friend.

Ha. It wasn't me!

We went outside to play and to hopefully delay the nonstop fighting the twins have been doing. Miles gets Charlie all fired up and Charlie loses his mind. Play bubbles outside was a welcome respite from that craziness which gave me a raving headache for the rest of the evening.

Charlie and Julia and unlikely friends, but they spent the most time together every day after school and she has a special place in her heart for him. She's always trying to take care of him. Making Charlie laugh is her favorite thing ever.

For about 90 minutes in the sun, there wasn't any screaming or fighting or attacking. There were just bubbles and the happiness that comes from chasing them. It was pretty good.

It is amazing how there is no downtime, even with 25% of my children gone.

I need to do bubbles 24/7.
Tweet

And With That We Are Five..For A Week

I promised not to embarrass him, and I meant to not embarrass him. But I didn't feel like ONE goodbye picture was too much to ask. I didn't hug or kiss him in front of his friends but I think I am feeling his judgment in this picture. MOM PLEASE STOP DOING THAT.

Fine, I stopped doing that. He's gone to South Carolina for a week doing camping stuff with his friends and I loved camp so I'm not going to be all paranoid and worried. It's the longest he's ever been gone. But he's going to be fine, I might not, but he will.

We came home and the girl ruled it imperative that we make some coffee. That's her overseeing the Keurig as it brews. She thinks it's important to watch it so that you know it's done. She tells me this is helping. Who am I to argue.

She has the solemn charge of being in charge of Doggie while Louis is gone. She's taking it very seriously, keeping me abreast of how Doggie feels without Louis. And while Louis was so worried about ME embarrassing him in front of his dorky Boy Scout friends, it was his sister who shouted "I GET TO TAKE CARE OF DOGGIE WHILE HE IS GONE!" holding up the red dog and showing his friend.

Ha. It wasn't me!

We went outside to play and to hopefully delay the nonstop fighting the twins have been doing. Miles gets Charlie all fired up and Charlie loses his mind. Play bubbles outside was a welcome respite from that craziness which gave me a raving headache for the rest of the evening.

Charlie and Julia and unlikely friends, but they spent the most time together every day after school and she has a special place in her heart for him. She's always trying to take care of him. Making Charlie laugh is her favorite thing ever.

For about 90 minutes in the sun, there wasn't any screaming or fighting or attacking. There were just bubbles and the happiness that comes from chasing them. It was pretty good.

It is amazing how there is no downtime, even with 25% of my children gone.

I need to do bubbles 24/7.
Tweet

The Mythos of the Garden Tub

I've been kind of down the past few days and I'm not sure why. Hormones maybe? Latent grief from the 6/30 anniversary maybe. Maybe it's because I haven't worked out in days and I'm building up all that stress and tension that normally gets let out on my Total Gym. I'm unsure. What I do know is that the more I'm thinking on it and examining it the more down I'm getting, the more frustrated I'm getting so as of yesterday I decided fuck it, I'll just be down for however long this is going to be. No big deal. No one died, I've not been wronged, hormonally speaking though I'm not in my happy place.
My husband told me yesterday I should go take a bath in our tub. This is truly some sort of recipe for ultimate bliss. I bought my house BECAUSE of the tub I swear to you. This tub is so big that I have, at some points in my parenting, been able to put FOUR children in it comfortably. Then it was three, then two. I'm down to one at a time now but still, it's a damn big tub. You could join me. We've have our feet all up in each other's business but you definitely COULD join me.

When I think of my tub, I think of this...

Of course, it doesn't look anything like that. Mine is 25+ years old, and the jets don't work anymore and it needs regrouted around the tile. I'm surrounded by this hideous faux victorian wallpaper, which looks a bit like this...

the main difference therein being that the one I grabbed to show you is sort of pretty and the one in my bathroom is like the Fingerhut version of that same print. NOT delicate and lovely, in other words.

The other important thing about my amazing garden tub, the one for which I bought an entire house is this - I never use it. Months, years go by, and I never get into the thing. There aren't enough hours in the day to do all of the things I want to do. I want to get into my tub and luxuriate but I never do, so my husband's suggestion of a long hot bath to help soak away my blues seemed like an amazing suggestion. We added a glass of wine to complete the relaxation and I felt like I was in heaven.

You might think maybe I would look like this...

Well that would be how I look in my mind.

You see, I don't have proper wine glasses unpacked (yes I've lived here seven years leave me alone I'll get to it). What I DO have are some snowman printed goblets from when my brother and SIL came down for Thanksgiving the VERY first year I lived in Atlanta (which was awesome btw guys). In my snowman printed goblet, I pour a liberal amount of  fruity blackberry merlot because life is not too short to drink cheap wine.

There I recline, in a huge tub filled with epsom salts (I was thinking these might soak out the poisons in my mind), and a snowman goblet filled with a wine that makes my tongue tingle.  The door is closed and the water is steamy, and I lay back and let the smell of pink peony and rose oil surround me and just try to think calm things.

Crash conk blonk "Don't BOTHER MOM!" I hear. I like to try to deciper the sounds from behind the door of my refuge. I hear toys being dug for in a toy box, I hear stomping (Miles is into stomping), I hear laughter. I submerge and listen to the same sounds from underwater, indecipherable now, like messages from a distant planet.

I slather on No7 Cleaning gel oil which by the way is the best stuff ever for this 46 year old face, it says it's for dry skin but I think it's a miracle product for 40 year old faces. It also has some magical property apparently, according to it's label it goes on as a thick gel, turns into an oil and then turns into a milk. That's got to be some serious science going on there, or magic. I'm not sure which.

I soak in the magic of the body wash that says it's got pink peony and rose oil, I turn it over and can't find pink peony anywhere on the ingredients. I can't find any latin words that would BE pink peony if I looked them up. There are a lot of isosomethingorother ingredients and sodium laurthorsomething. I do find rose oil about half way down so I've only been HALF lied to and I feel better about this. I feel like Tone body wash has lied to me, though, and I'm mentally shaking my fist at them.

I slather kids shampoo on, and gaze around the room, I'm not surrounded by candles and potpourri, I'm surrounded by laundry that needs pre-stained and sorted. Two kids in diapers at age 11 mean a lot of clothes need extra work before the washer, and there isn't anything to be done by lay it out the best place possible - my huge ass tub's ledge is perfect.

Some people always have such elegant shit going on with their towels. I wouldn't know how to begin to have such an array of fine towels around me. Maybe that's 12 years of mom mentality. I've got the big rack made to hold your huge fluffy bath towels, it's got a single hand towel tossed over it. Over the stand up shower that doesn't work there are the bath towels draped so that they can dry properly. The ninja turtles, Sophia the First, and Lightning McQueen are all represented. On the peg hook Spiderman is represented.

I've chosen Lightning McQueen and Spiderman as my towels today, with my floor towel being a lovely towel that used to be a deep rose color my mom mother purchased at Sears about 30 years ago when she did a spruce up to my Grandmother's bathroom. These towels were SO lovely and fluffy when new that my Grandmother proclaimed them too good to use and promptly folded them and put them away in the cabinet. She gave them to me in their pristine conditions when I moved out on my own in the 1990s.

I finish my second glass of wine and submerge, realizing that I'm underwater, have had two glasses of wine and this is how people suddenly pass out and drown and it'll be a headline "Mother of four drowns in freak accident outside Atlanta" so I come up for air and just lay back in the hot flowery water.

I don't know what's wrong with me, maybe sometimes it's just ok to feel like this "everything is too much" and in a few days I won't feel like that at all. I can honestly say that this morning I don't actually feel like that, I can feel stress glimmering on the edges of my mind but I don't feel it right now. I'm drinking coffee with cream and sugar waistline be damned it's what I want.

Part of me wonders though, waking up on this Sunday, if the 45 minutes of soaking did help part of that fade away? Epsom salts are weird things, allegedly this is true:
 Epsom salt has beneficial properties that can soothe the body, mind and soul. Some of the countless health benefits include relaxing the nervous system, curing skin problems, soothing back pain and aching limbs, easing muscle strain, healing cuts, treating cold and congestion, and drawing toxins from the body

Maybe it's true, because very oddly I do feel better. In fact, I think I'm going to have another coffee. With cream AND sugar. Carpe Diem! Because I only say YOLO when I'm being ironic and it's just too early for that, folks.
Tweet

The Mythos of the Garden Tub

I've been kind of down the past few days and I'm not sure why. Hormones maybe? Latent grief from the 6/30 anniversary maybe. Maybe it's because I haven't worked out in days and I'm building up all that stress and tension that normally gets let out on my Total Gym. I'm unsure. What I do know is that the more I'm thinking on it and examining it the more down I'm getting, the more frustrated I'm getting so as of yesterday I decided fuck it, I'll just be down for however long this is going to be. No big deal. No one died, I've not been wronged, hormonally speaking though I'm not in my happy place.
My husband told me yesterday I should go take a bath in our tub. This is truly some sort of recipe for ultimate bliss. I bought my house BECAUSE of the tub I swear to you. This tub is so big that I have, at some points in my parenting, been able to put FOUR children in it comfortably. Then it was three, then two. I'm down to one at a time now but still, it's a damn big tub. You could join me. We've have our feet all up in each other's business but you definitely COULD join me.

When I think of my tub, I think of this...

Of course, it doesn't look anything like that. Mine is 25+ years old, and the jets don't work anymore and it needs regrouted around the tile. I'm surrounded by this hideous faux victorian wallpaper, which looks a bit like this...

the main difference therein being that the one I grabbed to show you is sort of pretty and the one in my bathroom is like the Fingerhut version of that same print. NOT delicate and lovely, in other words.

The other important thing about my amazing garden tub, the one for which I bought an entire house is this - I never use it. Months, years go by, and I never get into the thing. There aren't enough hours in the day to do all of the things I want to do. I want to get into my tub and luxuriate but I never do, so my husband's suggestion of a long hot bath to help soak away my blues seemed like an amazing suggestion. We added a glass of wine to complete the relaxation and I felt like I was in heaven.

You might think maybe I would look like this...

Well that would be how I look in my mind.

You see, I don't have proper wine glasses unpacked (yes I've lived here seven years leave me alone I'll get to it). What I DO have are some snowman printed goblets from when my brother and SIL came down for Thanksgiving the VERY first year I lived in Atlanta (which was awesome btw guys). In my snowman printed goblet, I pour a liberal amount of  fruity blackberry merlot because life is not too short to drink cheap wine.

There I recline, in a huge tub filled with epsom salts (I was thinking these might soak out the poisons in my mind), and a snowman goblet filled with a wine that makes my tongue tingle.  The door is closed and the water is steamy, and I lay back and let the smell of pink peony and rose oil surround me and just try to think calm things.

Crash conk blonk "Don't BOTHER MOM!" I hear. I like to try to deciper the sounds from behind the door of my refuge. I hear toys being dug for in a toy box, I hear stomping (Miles is into stomping), I hear laughter. I submerge and listen to the same sounds from underwater, indecipherable now, like messages from a distant planet.

I slather on No7 Cleaning gel oil which by the way is the best stuff ever for this 46 year old face, it says it's for dry skin but I think it's a miracle product for 40 year old faces. It also has some magical property apparently, according to it's label it goes on as a thick gel, turns into an oil and then turns into a milk. That's got to be some serious science going on there, or magic. I'm not sure which.

I soak in the magic of the body wash that says it's got pink peony and rose oil, I turn it over and can't find pink peony anywhere on the ingredients. I can't find any latin words that would BE pink peony if I looked them up. There are a lot of isosomethingorother ingredients and sodium laurthorsomething. I do find rose oil about half way down so I've only been HALF lied to and I feel better about this. I feel like Tone body wash has lied to me, though, and I'm mentally shaking my fist at them.

I slather kids shampoo on, and gaze around the room, I'm not surrounded by candles and potpourri, I'm surrounded by laundry that needs pre-stained and sorted. Two kids in diapers at age 11 mean a lot of clothes need extra work before the washer, and there isn't anything to be done by lay it out the best place possible - my huge ass tub's ledge is perfect.

Some people always have such elegant shit going on with their towels. I wouldn't know how to begin to have such an array of fine towels around me. Maybe that's 12 years of mom mentality. I've got the big rack made to hold your huge fluffy bath towels, it's got a single hand towel tossed over it. Over the stand up shower that doesn't work there are the bath towels draped so that they can dry properly. The ninja turtles, Sophia the First, and Lightning McQueen are all represented. On the peg hook Spiderman is represented.

I've chosen Lightning McQueen and Spiderman as my towels today, with my floor towel being a lovely towel that used to be a deep rose color my mom mother purchased at Sears about 30 years ago when she did a spruce up to my Grandmother's bathroom. These towels were SO lovely and fluffy when new that my Grandmother proclaimed them too good to use and promptly folded them and put them away in the cabinet. She gave them to me in their pristine conditions when I moved out on my own in the 1990s.

I finish my second glass of wine and submerge, realizing that I'm underwater, have had two glasses of wine and this is how people suddenly pass out and drown and it'll be a headline "Mother of four drowns in freak accident outside Atlanta" so I come up for air and just lay back in the hot flowery water.

I don't know what's wrong with me, maybe sometimes it's just ok to feel like this "everything is too much" and in a few days I won't feel like that at all. I can honestly say that this morning I don't actually feel like that, I can feel stress glimmering on the edges of my mind but I don't feel it right now. I'm drinking coffee with cream and sugar waistline be damned it's what I want.

Part of me wonders though, waking up on this Sunday, if the 45 minutes of soaking did help part of that fade away? Epsom salts are weird things, allegedly this is true:
 Epsom salt has beneficial properties that can soothe the body, mind and soul. Some of the countless health benefits include relaxing the nervous system, curing skin problems, soothing back pain and aching limbs, easing muscle strain, healing cuts, treating cold and congestion, and drawing toxins from the body

Maybe it's true, because very oddly I do feel better. In fact, I think I'm going to have another coffee. With cream AND sugar. Carpe Diem! Because I only say YOLO when I'm being ironic and it's just too early for that, folks.
Tweet

Fireworks, and the Fourth

The park next to us held it's 4th of July fireworks on the 3rd of July (I don't understand this phenomenon btw why do people do stuff on the 3rd? Is it for rain dates?) so we loaded up the crew and headed over. Our plan was that we'd eat festival food and hang out and then watch the fireworks. Upon arrival we realized that the food tents were running out of food. There was no food. Thus - there was no dinner.

Some strangers gave us these.

These were FREAKING good. They also gave us these.

So we're now officially those hippies taking and eating food from strangers at festivals. Nobody tell my dad, he hates "damn dirty hippies".

But the fireworks went BOOM BOOM BOOM and four children and two adults were mesmerized. Afterward we supplemented our dinner of various chip products with some Waffle House which was tasty and greasy in a horrible way.
For our 4th celebration we stayed home with our own little fireworks and some chicken on the grill. It's probably the best chicken I've ever made on the grill, and it was amazing.

We used a combo of regular old barbecue sauce with some mustard sauce we got from Maurice's Piggy Park on Spring Break, and it's really the only 'mustard' based sauce I have ever in my life liked. It's amazingly delicious and everyone should try it. While I was cooking, a little mouse named Charlie tried out the pie.

I'm guessing he liked it.

Our own fireworks were less spectacular but I think the kids liked them anyway.

It was as good Fourth of July.

Tweet

Fireworks, and the Fourth

The park next to us held it's 4th of July fireworks on the 3rd of July (I don't understand this phenomenon btw why do people do stuff on the 3rd? Is it for rain dates?) so we loaded up the crew and headed over. Our plan was that we'd eat festival food and hang out and then watch the fireworks. Upon arrival we realized that the food tents were running out of food. There was no food. Thus - there was no dinner.

Some strangers gave us these.

These were FREAKING good. They also gave us these.

So we're now officially those hippies taking and eating food from strangers at festivals. Nobody tell my dad, he hates "damn dirty hippies".

But the fireworks went BOOM BOOM BOOM and four children and two adults were mesmerized. Afterward we supplemented our dinner of various chip products with some Waffle House which was tasty and greasy in a horrible way.
For our 4th celebration we stayed home with our own little fireworks and some chicken on the grill. It's probably the best chicken I've ever made on the grill, and it was amazing.

We used a combo of regular old barbecue sauce with some mustard sauce we got from Maurice's Piggy Park on Spring Break, and it's really the only 'mustard' based sauce I have ever in my life liked. It's amazingly delicious and everyone should try it. While I was cooking, a little mouse named Charlie tried out the pie.

I'm guessing he liked it.

Our own fireworks were less spectacular but I think the kids liked them anyway.

It was as good Fourth of July.

Tweet

It Was A Pretty Terrible Two Days

One year ago today I buried someone who was like a ray of sunshine in the world. She would laugh, and smile and look at everyone with joy. I really liked her, and I know I couldn't have done anything to change the way things went. She wasn't well, and her body decided it had enough.

I was lucky in that I got to say goodbye.

I went to the hospital and was horrified to see the dying person she had become. I smiled as big as I could, and told her how great her hair looked (they had been fiddling with it when I came in) and how glad I was to see her. I knew as I watched her struggling to talk, to stay awake, that I was speaking to her for the last time. It felt surreal, knowing I was choosing the last words I'd ever have with someone. There is a lot of importance in that, those last words. What do you do with them? How do you choose the LAST thing you ever say to someone?

We did her nails, and she whispered "Your makeup." Busted. I had come to visit without my makeup on. It was her pet peeve. She never left the house without full face makeup, and every birthday would give me a new makeup kit from Ulta and remind me "You have such a pretty face! Wear some make up so everyone can see!" She was like my Jewish mother, in fact she was a Jewish mother. You couldn't refuse her anything.

I laughed, and said "I know, I forgot my makeup. I PROMISE I won't forget anymore! Forgive me!"

She smiled, and her painkillers kicked in and she slept.

That's the last thing I ever said to her. I promised to wear my makeup. I've actually done a pretty good job of keeping that one. I wish I had said something more meaningful. I wish my last words had meant something but maybe to her they did. She was really big on me wearing my makeup.

I woke up the next day, after her funeral, and felt like I had put it behind me and was ready to move forward. It was a Monday and a pretty nice day. It was a busy day and a good day.

Shortly after noon, as I ate leftover tacos in the breakroom - I got a messsage saying goodbye forever. Goodbye, forever. Someone I loved a lot had decided they were done with this world. He sent a text message to a few of us, turned off his phone, and blew his brains out.

I know what the last thing I ever said to him (that he heard) was a response to the question "Will I get unemployment do you think?" I answered, "Yeah but you can't live on it. You'll find something. Don't worry."

Yeah, but you can't live on it.

Those words are burned in my brain. You can't live on it.

I said something else, but I don't think it was ever received. I said "STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING RIGHT NOW!"

You don't ever know what the last thing you're going to say to someone is going to be. I'm haunted by both stories, I wish I had said something different in both cases. Nothing would have changed in either case I don't believe. The real ego of it all though, is that those last words are just for me. I'd like to look on myself and say "Yay me I said something meaningful aren't I awesome?" Not like it matters to the dead the last damn thing you say.

I suspect the dead weren't thinking of me at all in either case, as they died.

Last words are haunting me. I'm lost thinking of them, even though they don't matter. Maybe it's just a stage of grief.

Tomorrow those of us who got a text to say goodbye, a short list of friends now bound together by an unspeakable day, we're going to spend some time together. We couldn't really think of anything to do that made sense so I think we're going to lunch or something. I just want to be with them, in a space with them, where we are safe from that day like a shield against the past. We all survived the grief of that day and the days that followed. We survived those moments when no one else would understand our rage, when it was too much to stand and we just went to lunch together and didn't say much of anything.

Today I spent most of my day holding my breath. 6/30/15 is coming. One year. He's been gone one year. I don't know how someone who was as much a part of my life as my elbow can be gone a year, much less forever. But that's the truth of it.

I didn't know how much a part of my life either person was, or the joy they brought me until they were gone. I wish, if nothing else, I had ever told them that.

Chris read this at Chuck's grave. Chuck loved this song.

...and nothing else matters.

Tweet

It Was A Pretty Terrible Two Days

One year ago today I buried someone who was like a ray of sunshine in the world. She would laugh, and smile and look at everyone with joy. I really liked her, and I know I couldn't have done anything to change the way things went. She wasn't well, and her body decided it had enough.

I was lucky in that I got to say goodbye.

I went to the hospital and was horrified to see the dying person she had become. I smiled as big as I could, and told her how great her hair looked (they had been fiddling with it when I came in) and how glad I was to see her. I knew as I watched her struggling to talk, to stay awake, that I was speaking to her for the last time. It felt surreal, knowing I was choosing the last words I'd ever have with someone. There is a lot of importance in that, those last words. What do you do with them? How do you choose the LAST thing you ever say to someone?

We did her nails, and she whispered "Your makeup." Busted. I had come to visit without my makeup on. It was her pet peeve. She never left the house without full face makeup, and every birthday would give me a new makeup kit from Ulta and remind me "You have such a pretty face! Wear some make up so everyone can see!" She was like my Jewish mother, in fact she was a Jewish mother. You couldn't refuse her anything.

I laughed, and said "I know, I forgot my makeup. I PROMISE I won't forget anymore! Forgive me!"

She smiled, and her painkillers kicked in and she slept.

That's the last thing I ever said to her. I promised to wear my makeup. I've actually done a pretty good job of keeping that one. I wish I had said something more meaningful. I wish my last words had meant something but maybe to her they did. She was really big on me wearing my makeup.

I woke up the next day, after her funeral, and felt like I had put it behind me and was ready to move forward. It was a Monday and a pretty nice day. It was a busy day and a good day.

Shortly after noon, as I ate leftover tacos in the breakroom - I got a messsage saying goodbye forever. Goodbye, forever. Someone I loved a lot had decided they were done with this world. He sent a text message to a few of us, turned off his phone, and blew his brains out.

I know what the last thing I ever said to him (that he heard) was a response to the question "Will I get unemployment do you think?" I answered, "Yeah but you can't live on it. You'll find something. Don't worry."

Yeah, but you can't live on it.

Those words are burned in my brain. You can't live on it.

I said something else, but I don't think it was ever received. I said "STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING RIGHT NOW!"

You don't ever know what the last thing you're going to say to someone is going to be. I'm haunted by both stories, I wish I had said something different in both cases. Nothing would have changed in either case I don't believe. The real ego of it all though, is that those last words are just for me. I'd like to look on myself and say "Yay me I said something meaningful aren't I awesome?" Not like it matters to the dead the last damn thing you say.

I suspect the dead weren't thinking of me at all in either case, as they died.

Last words are haunting me. I'm lost thinking of them, even though they don't matter. Maybe it's just a stage of grief.

Tomorrow those of us who got a text to say goodbye, a short list of friends now bound together by an unspeakable day, we're going to spend some time together. We couldn't really think of anything to do that made sense so I think we're going to lunch or something. I just want to be with them, in a space with them, where we are safe from that day like a shield against the past. We all survived the grief of that day and the days that followed. We survived those moments when no one else would understand our rage, when it was too much to stand and we just went to lunch together and didn't say much of anything.

Today I spent most of my day holding my breath. 6/30/15 is coming. One year. He's been gone one year. I don't know how someone who was as much a part of my life as my elbow can be gone a year, much less forever. But that's the truth of it.

I didn't know how much a part of my life either person was, or the joy they brought me until they were gone. I wish, if nothing else, I had ever told them that.

Chris read this at Chuck's grave. Chuck loved this song.

...and nothing else matters.

Tweet

My Stomach The Great Betrayer

I have this ongoing stomach thing that I take an army of medication for. Officially diagnosed as "gastritis" it basically means I have to be aware of what things will cause me to internally combust in a horrible ball of pain. It also means that I can't be sure what will affect me. Sometimes I can have something, sometimes not - it's a crap shoot. 

I drank beer on my most recent trip - no problem. I drank beer the trip before. However last night I'd been looking forward to having a beer, this new Root Beer called NOT YOUR FATHER'S ROOT BEER . I gotta go on record to say that THIS is a tasty beverage. It was just delicious, I recommend it HEARTILY to those without stomach issues.

I sat down last night at my first real night back home ready to try out the new WoW patch (my shipyard is awesome) and to enjoy just one of these lovelies. I wasn't sure how it would sit, but having just had beer a couple of nights before, I felt pretty confident I would be ok.

Right about the time I got to the bottom of the bottle, my stomach said "HEY THIS IS A NO!"

It starts out with a sharp centralized poking pain in the middle of my stomach. It grows and burns, until the pain feels like it's actually pushing outward through my back and front simultaneously. It could actually be burning a hole in my spine, based on the pain. 

I would like a "heads up stop drinking/eating" pain. Like maybe a preliminary burn - or something that would prevent me from filling my stomach with death fire ingredients.

But no, it waits until I've crossed the line and then punishes me relentlessly. Last night somewhere after the pain reached it's zenith I started to chill and ache. Why? I don't know. I piled on two sets of pajamas and socks and crawled into bed, I was so cold - despite the hot poker now seeking escape out my back. Julia came and kissed me and told me I would feel all better once I was asleep. 

She was right. 

I had one sip of coffee this morning, and a bagel -haven't had a damn bagel in forever it was good. I had all my medicine and I'm on my fourth Tervis Tumbler of water. My stomach doesn't hurt, but their is ghost aching going on - barely perceptible but it's there. I'm considering having part of a coffee to keep the caffeine demons at bay but only considering it.

I don't know if I made myself an ulcer or it was just the constantly inflamed stomach going on that impacted me. I'm reading about things I can do to reduce my inflammation and thinking I need to try something DIFFERENT. I probably need to go back and do another scope and talk to a doctor about it again. 

That is a DAMN good beer though. I cannot possibly say how sad I am that I'm not able to drink it. 

My Stomach The Great Betrayer

I have this ongoing stomach thing that I take an army of medication for. Officially diagnosed as "gastritis" it basically means I have to be aware of what things will cause me to internally combust in a horrible ball of pain. It also means that I can't be sure what will affect me. Sometimes I can have something, sometimes not - it's a crap shoot. 

I drank beer on my most recent trip - no problem. I drank beer the trip before. However last night I'd been looking forward to having a beer, this new Root Beer called NOT YOUR FATHER'S ROOT BEER . I gotta go on record to say that THIS is a tasty beverage. It was just delicious, I recommend it HEARTILY to those without stomach issues.

I sat down last night at my first real night back home ready to try out the new WoW patch (my shipyard is awesome) and to enjoy just one of these lovelies. I wasn't sure how it would sit, but having just had beer a couple of nights before, I felt pretty confident I would be ok.

Right about the time I got to the bottom of the bottle, my stomach said "HEY THIS IS A NO!"

It starts out with a sharp centralized poking pain in the middle of my stomach. It grows and burns, until the pain feels like it's actually pushing outward through my back and front simultaneously. It could actually be burning a hole in my spine, based on the pain. 

I would like a "heads up stop drinking/eating" pain. Like maybe a preliminary burn - or something that would prevent me from filling my stomach with death fire ingredients.

But no, it waits until I've crossed the line and then punishes me relentlessly. Last night somewhere after the pain reached it's zenith I started to chill and ache. Why? I don't know. I piled on two sets of pajamas and socks and crawled into bed, I was so cold - despite the hot poker now seeking escape out my back. Julia came and kissed me and told me I would feel all better once I was asleep. 

She was right. 

I had one sip of coffee this morning, and a bagel -haven't had a damn bagel in forever it was good. I had all my medicine and I'm on my fourth Tervis Tumbler of water. My stomach doesn't hurt, but their is ghost aching going on - barely perceptible but it's there. I'm considering having part of a coffee to keep the caffeine demons at bay but only considering it.

I don't know if I made myself an ulcer or it was just the constantly inflamed stomach going on that impacted me. I'm reading about things I can do to reduce my inflammation and thinking I need to try something DIFFERENT. I probably need to go back and do another scope and talk to a doctor about it again. 

That is a DAMN good beer though. I cannot possibly say how sad I am that I'm not able to drink it.