A canker, a rollercoaster and three dogs

Well hello stranger.

When I logged on, I was heartbroken to find that I have not regurgitated some crap from my mind since Friday. No wonder my head hurts.

First, a much needed update about the cankerous spot – it is healed. Take that! I used a paste made from chewing up a Tums. Heed this warning, you mass of annoyance and pain, “I shall fight you with this arsenal of antacid paste if you try to invade my shores again!”

While fighting the cantankerous beast, I also made some time to travel 300 miles to visit the newest and I can safely say smallest member of our family. Queenie and I went to Milwaukee to meet Alayna (1lb 15 oz)…what a little sprite! Her parents are my much younger cousin and his wife. They amazed me with their courage and the night and day difference in their maturity.

I have decided that they are my new heroes.

We started out the weekend in a hotel that was pretty much the worst place I have ever tried to lay my head. I was going to write my post about this, but I can save that experience for another day.

I will however share the weekend in a rollercoaster…

I went from feeling elated about solving other people’s problems at work to

singing “Beautiful Wreck” at the top of my lungs all the while suspecting it was wriiten about me to

reading aloud David Sedaris and realizing it just isn’t the same without his ‘inflections’ to

taking my turn at driving the highway of monotony to

checking into a crackhouse a hotel to

riding the rickety elevator with the mystery smell to our room to

curling up in the fetal position murmuring my cat's name after downing 4 glasses of wine to dull the pain of the smell, sounds and look of room 324 to

showering the next morning in a bathroom with urine on the wall and mold on the ceiling to

frantically driving around the city to find a better place to lodge to

feeling the rush of relief as we check into a place we can call our temporary home for the night to

greeting with a hug my 23 year old cousin who is now an actual parent to

remembering a boy who used to love Ghostbusters and snuggle in my lap to

scrubbing my hands with antibacterial soap to prepare to see a tiny human fighting for life to

marveling at the little fighter in the glass house with tubes and machines everywhere to

witnessing her parents ask appropriate questions, then take mental notes of everything the nurse was relaying all the while keeping one eye on their precious baby to

chatting with my aunt and uncle about their new granddaughter and the terror they felt when she was being rushed to this hospital to be saved to

laughing, eating and reminiscing over a table full of pizza to

spending some much needed time bonding with my family over beer and a board game to

crashing in a hotel bed that had clean sheets and a welcoming cleanliness to

sleeping in and cursing the time change… damn you Ben Franklin to

saying goodbye to my new heroes and preparing for the drive home.


My favorite part of the weekend went like this:

Ab (my 7th grade cousin): “Have you ever heard of the band The Three Dogs night”?

Me: “You mean Three Dog Night?”

Ab: "No, it is plural…right? Three Dogsss Night."

Me: "No, it is Three Dog Night. Trust me. They sing Joy To the World."

Ab: "They also sing Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog”

Me: (inaudible through the laughter)

Ab: "I don’t get it."