Thursday, November 17, 2011

Jimmy Breathing

This photo is from when Jimmy was taken off the ventilator, for the first time during since his August 8th accident. He used only his DPS device.

There are no tubes hanging from his chest!

It was pretty amazing.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011


I need a reminder.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

A New Normal

Someone said to me, "Just know there will be a new normal. Old normal is gone. Just adjust to it, and go with it."

As I grocery shopped alone last night I thought a lot about this.

I'm just not ready to let go of old normal.

Maybe one day I will be.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Anatomy of a Jewelry Box

This is my jewelry box... well part of it. I was unpacking and reorganizing it when I realized how much of my life all of this represents and how many stories it all tells.

Front and center: Engagement ring, and wedding ring. Placed in the box Jimmy had monogrammed with my new initials when he proposed.

To the right of that: Gold Charm necklace. This I made while we were on our honeymoon in New Orleans at The Bead Shop. It has a gold disk on it with our wedding date and our initials, as well as a key, a gold feather and a heart.

Top Center: Satin Flower. I wore two of these in my hair on my wedding day. There's no telling where other one could be.

All Around: Earrings. I have so many earrings in which I've gotten over the years, and were given to me as gifts. I love looking at all these thinking about where I've worn them, and where I got them. I've got them in all sizes, but lately have been wearing the big, round ones a lot.

Center: Other Rings. My wonderful ring collection. I still have weird, plastic, beachy rings, my class ring, rings passed down from Mom and Nana... my lovely costume rings that use to dorn my left hand pre-engagment and silver rings that used to be really in, that are now waaay tarnished.

Second drawer, on the right: Real, REAL pearls. My mother gave these to me as a gift when I graduated college. One of the few real things in this box. I treasure these, and rarely feel as if my clothes are good enough to match.

Right to the left of the pearls: A gold sapphire necklace. This is a little treasure that Jimmy got me one year for my birthday. I forgot about this and was excited to re-discover it.

Third drawer: Chunky bracelets. Love my bracelets. I got a new one while on Honeymoon, then two more gold bengals on sale at the mall. It appears I'm into gold now, which I never thought possible.

I can't talk jewelry without talking these: My grandmother's earrings. I always would sneak in Nana's room and clip these sparkly suckers on while growing up. I remember them being a lot bigger when I was little, but wasn't everything? When my Nana passed and my mother cared about treasuring her real jewels, I cared about these. They are the only thing I asked for. I got a few other things, but these... these are good.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

To Tweet on the Honeymoon: Weird or Expected?

We're halfway through 2011. Times have changed. The world is fueled by social media. I check my Twitter feed like ten times before I even get out of the bed.

Tonight Jimmy mentioned that the brewery for my favorite beer was located in New Orleans. I got really excited, but what's sad is that I immediately thought about being able to "check-in" at really super fun places -- like the Abita brewery.

Omg. I'm lame-o.


It IS my honeymoon. I should disconnect. I should leave my phone turned off.


It's New Orleans -- not Fiji. It's a few states away. We won't be on an island. We'll be on Bourbon Street. And I refuse to not have my phone with me for safety reasons. Yeah, safety reasons.

My phone... it's an addiction. I don't mean to sound like the commercial but if you don't have an iPhone you don't understand. I know, snob. It's life-changing. I have fears about my phone falling in water all the time. I think a friend recently looked at me funny when I stepped away from a fountain while texting... eventhough I wasn't standing that close.

I'm getting palpatations just thinking about it.

So the point is... I need to deal with my addiction while in New Orleans.

Can I tweet on my honeymoon?

I know what you're going to say.

You're going to say... I'm extra lame-o for wanting to be on my phone when I should be spending quality time with my new husband.

To that I say... I knooooowwwwwww.


Saturday, May 21, 2011

Hand Made

I decided to hand-write my placecards for the wedding. Luckily with the help of a calligraphy pen -- not that what I'm doing should be called calligraphy -- I think they came out okay.

I had an ugly experience with prices at Kinkos today... and decided to put my handwriting to work.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

A Bittersweet News Week

It was an exhausting, bittersweet news week.

The Royal wedding excited the whole world.

It allowed us to live inside a much anticipated fairytaile as it all came together. Watching Kate Middleton was a dream. So perfect on every level. William and his new bride consumed then world.

Then Sunday came. The capture of the world's most-wanted terrorist. The globe was consumed yet again, but in a completely different way.

I love that I was able to grab a snapshot of each of these monumental events via magazine covers.

I've lived through some pretty historial events.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Closet Floor

Does everyone else's closet floor look like this?

I force myself to sit there twice a year to straighten this mess, but it always ends up reverting back into this nasty pile of shoes.

It looks like a corner in the Salvation Army.
Ah well.

Monday, January 31, 2011


It was a Saturday night.

I was home.

I had a rare two glasses of wine.

Jimmy was gone for the weekend.

It was me, TiVo, chick-flicks, dinner... and that yeah, that wine.

I started flipping through my latest BRIDES, casually watching Drew Barrymore's latest love tale: Going the Distance.

I suffered from a sudden wave of excitement about thee wedding.

I got an idea.

That idea -- to try on my wedding dress.

It was the first time it's been out of the bag since I picked it up.

I stepped into the flouffy dress, excitement mounting.

I pulled it up, getting it in place, when suddenly I realized something was missing.

Something crucial.

I freaking needed someone to ZIP THE DAMN THING.


Alright -- no one around. What now? I need to see it on!

I took it back off.

Zipped it... then decided to pull it over my head.

Suck in, slip it on!

Not so fast.

It suddenly stopped.

I realized it was my, eh... speed bumps.

This train was stuck.

I pulled the ivory pile of material up... nothing.

I tugged down, nothing.

Really stuck.

I started pacing.

I started panicking.

I started to talk to myself, reasoning with myself.

"You don't want to die like this."

"Well, there could be worse ways to die."

"At least I'll be in a pretty dress."

"Oh my God, Jimmy is 4 hours away."

Alright think. I have to get out of this by myself.

More pacing.

My face was turning red.

This fucking dress was tight.


Either I cut it off... or reach my non-double jointed arm around my body, find the zipper and pull like I've never pulled.

And maybe a small promise to God that I'll go to church if he helps a sister out.

Option two.

Operation Arm Reach.

The way I got my arm all the way around my body, I'll never know.

It was painfully, but successfully executed.


I unzipped, exhaled, and pushed the taffeta down to the ground.

I let out a big pissed-off sigh.

I felt like I had just been stabbed in the back by a best friend.

I looked down at my dress with anguish and ran out of the room.

After five minutes of thinking about forming wrinkles I ran back in the room and lovingly picked up the neglected garment.

I hung it back up and decided... we can remain friends but need some time apart.

We need a break.

Full Speed

"Like an angry apple tree... I throw my apples when you get too close to me."

~Ingrid Michaelson
Lyrics from "Locked Up"

Saturday, January 22, 2011

This Isn't It

I produce newscasts for a living.

It's exhilarating and provides a huge adrenaline rush at times. You're always in the loop, usually ahead of the loop.

You know things before the rest of the world and it's amazing being at the center of what's happening and being able to deliver that first-hand account.

People ask me if I have power... I usually say no.

However, nightly I hand-pick what will air live at 11pm. I craft the mood, and tone in which our news is delivered operating under the guidelines and standards of our station/company.

Thousands of people watch. Thousands of people trust what we have to say and some of them, they watch every single night.

If they don't like it, they'll usually call and let us know about it. Usually in a completely rude manner.

But sometimes we get the kinder caller, who just wants to pass along a comment or concern.

It all comes down to money. Businesses won't advertise, unless the station can prove A LOT of people watch. That comes down to ratings. We have to get people to watch. And the managers who are my bosses will stop at nothing to make people watch. Which means new demands, new policies, and a whole lot of extra pressure.

Aye, the pressure.

My gynecologist said it best: Every job comes with it's stressors.

I can only imagine her vents at cocktail hour.

I guess what I'm getting at is... news is special. There is a special bond between those who have shed blood, sweat and tears in a newsroom. There is certain closeness between those who know what a VOSOT is.

News has made me an incredibly strong person. It takes a lot more for me to cry now. I have much thicker skin. I've met some of my best friends in the world in news. I wouldn't take any of my 7 years in news back.


With all the pressure, and crying... (if you work in news, and try to tell me you haven't cried -- you are a big fat, fatty-fat liar. I used to have a favorite "cry stall" in the bathroom of my last station.) I just wonder... do I still love it, and is it still worth it?

I just don't know.

I'll be working at my current station for two more years, so I have some time to figure out what to do.

I think I'm starting to need a little more from what I do. I spend so much time and energy there. I deserve something other than wrinkles.

Maybe I'm just supposed to be doing something more.

But WHAT is it?


Someone tell me.