Saturday, February 15, 2014

Val Day Wrap-Up

This is what I got Jimmy:

This is what he got me:

Hey Server! Can you take our picture?
[Thee most awkward positioning ever and that guy in the background
who may be scratching his butt. THANKS.]

Fiiiiine. I'll do it myself. Val Day selfie-ism.

We got home and, yay, my Birchbox came! I got this super color-changing nail polish.
[Sucks that I had already committed to a black and white color scheme for this particular blog
so, you know, you can't see the actual color or anything. It's hot pink, btw.]

Oh. And later than night? There was an earthquake. In SC, close to the GA line. For me, in Decatur, it felt like a couple of elephants moving furniture upstairs and my lamp was shaking a little. There was definitely some butterfly action happening in my belly. 
Then I went back to watching Sherlock thinking: I wonder if that was an earthquake. 
I should look that up later. 
Then about 20 minutes later I get a panic text from a friend in SC. 
[Nothing to show for this little rumble so I'm reenacting what
 my face probably looked like when it happened.]

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Dear Snow

It's cool. You can hang. I see you've made yourself comfortable. However, there's a sliver of sunshine that has other plans. So, heads up.

You see, tomorrow is Valentine's Day. I've made reservations. I don't want to cancel them. I need a little lovely, sweet meal with Husband. My feet and his wheels need to make it downtown. I will carry my Costco container of sea salt if need be.

You've made your point. You're pretty. Everyone is looking at you. Look, I even joined in and took some pretty snow pictures. Yay, snow pics. Woooo.

Okay. So, on your way now. Spit spot.


PS: I don't hate you. I really don't. You're actually kind of nice. I just need Valentine's lunch with my husband, okay? You understand.  

Saturday, February 8, 2014

The Dining Room Table

It's happening again. The tears. The memories. My mind is going there.

It's pretty amazing what can pinch the trigger. 

Tonight it was me, saying goodnight to Jimmy. I lingered in his room a little longer than normal. He was drifting off. 

I walked to my room, passing the dining room table I had recently set up. Placemats, cloth napkins, creamer and sugar dishes, decorative vase with filler and just added today: fresh cut flowers.

I thought the table looked so nice. And, in that moment, I had a quick glimpse of Jimmy sitting there eating. His legs propped up on the bottom wooden rung. You know, that spot where most people rest their feet on higher, bar-like stools. 

It was like a dream. But I was wide awake. He was eating. Happily. Maybe reading a newspaper. 

I then walked in my room and got incredibly sad. 

Jimmy will probably never sit at that table and eat and/or read a newspaper.  We won't be sitting there together in two wooded chairs. His chair will most-likely always be metal. 

In fact, there's a whole generation of furniture in our new life he'll probably never touch. 

Do you know how bad I miss him on the couch?

That couch has been in our lives for over a year and it hasn't brushed up against his skin. Not once. 

The sad moments like I'm experiencing are fewer and farther between, thankfully. 

But dammit if the pangs I'm feeling inside of me aren't as sharp as they were the first few nights after the accident. 

I miss my old Jimmy sometimes. Maybe it's good I go down this road every once in awhile. 

I don't want to forget the literal pep he had in his step. It's something I didn't even realize I loved about him, until after the accident. He bounced. He walked more on the balls of his feet than I did. 

The morning will bring all that comes with the light of day, and the chance for me to hug my husband's neck; an act that will put a little band-aid over these particular pangs.

We'll share breakfast and coffee and I'll probably tell him about my sad moment.  

He'll probably tell me to bring it in for a head hug. 

I'll do it, and yeah, band-aid. 

We'll get on with our day because that's what we do. 

We take time to acknowledge the sad moments and allow ourselves to feel them. 

Because, it's actually not all bad. It always doesn't hurt. I don't always miss my old Jimmy. 

The "new" one is working out just fine. 

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Jimmy's Chicken Roll-Ups

Jimmy and I had a moment this evening. Like, a kinda sad moment. But it resulted in a delicious meal.

I really wanted to eat but really, really, reallllly didn't want to cook. I also felt we had too much food in the house to justify ordering out.

My level of tired was abnormally high today. Not sure why. 

And then I said, "I just want someone to cook me a meal."

I definitely immediately regretted it. Like, rubbing salt in the SCI wound. But, Jimmy didn't get that upset about it.

He did say, "I wish I could cook for you. I'd make this blah blah stuffed chicken thing with blah blah."

Uhm, he just pulled this amazing recipe from his ass? Are you kidding me?  Well leeeeeez go, son. I can be instructed.

And I was. Together in the kitchen, we made these little chicken roll-up thingys that have bacon, ham, cheese, onion and a yummy mushroom gravy. I love when he's up to doing this because this means we both get to eat well.

And he feels, I'm sure, productive as he's able to exercise his skills. I always immediately want to make chicken enchiladas because I love Mexicanish and can eat it everyday.

It's my go to suggested meal. I suggested it tonight. I'm going to suggest chicken enchiladas every night.

Mwa ha ha. (And more evil laughing.)


Monday, February 3, 2014

Devil Horns and A Fat Burrito

This afternoon, we went to Jimmy's wound doctor so he could do the first round of tissue expanding for his head.

[Back story: About a month ago, Jimmy had surgery done to his head to "clean up" some unhealthiness that was happening up there.  It was one of two injury's from the accident.  Long story short, he got it cleaned up and had tissue expanders in.  So, after six weeks of expanding he'll get reconstructive surgery  and that stretched tissue will cover the giant injury site/hole left on his scalp. He might even have hair where he didn't before.]

Today he got his first round of expanding. Jimmy got 30ccs of saline put in each expander. He tolerated it very well. Of course, now, you could truly start seeing the big bubbles starting to come out of his head. Jimmy's starter set of devil horns. Little baby cute ones. 

Somehow, someway... even after Devil Horns 101, Jimmy felt up to going somewhere to eat. 


That's a rare treat. So we parked downtown and found only, like, half of the eateries are open on Mondays. But you know what WAS open? This super cute burrito joint.

It was that weird time of day. Like 4pm. And we hadn't had lunch so we needed something big enough where it could be enough for both. 

Bingo was his name-o.  

Jimmy asked me if this could count as a date; something I've been urging him to help me schedule (the nice way of saying it) for awhile. I do know he wanted to try and get one in before his horns got to be full grown. 

So, YES. This can count as a date, Jimmy. 

Here are my requirements:

1) Only him and I. 
2) The nurse has to sit at another table.
3) The food/activity really has to be something we equally want/agree on and therefore are both semi-excited about. This rule sometimes can be flexible. (example: Steely) (example: the zombie love movie I made him go see.)
4) I can't drag him out of the house (which I really could do any day.) He has to be willing. Otherwise, it will be a shitty date. And no one wants a shitty date. I mean... someone may want a shitty date. I do not.
Holy glorious pretty pile of food.
Hence, our day date complete with devil horns and a fat burrito.