I am a very happy Lori.

Very stressed, but very happy. Today I turn 26 (on the 26th!)... and I totally forgot about it.

But then I logged into Facebook, and saw that 68 friends of mine had written on my wall, and I was like, "Whaaa...?" And then I remembered.

And the best part is that it was people from all over the country and all over the world. (Cousins in Italy count!)

So no picture/cartoon today, because I am entirely too stressed out and busy with wedding planning (the wedding, which, if you're following, is in only 5 more days.) Instead of thinking off all of the things I haven't done, I'm thinking of the things I have.

Today, I got my wedding band (a place holder until I have the time to get the real one sized). And most importantly, we got our marriage license. Which means that as far as the actual getting married part, we can do that. The wedding just might not come together the exact way I pictured. But really? Oh well. As long as we both say 'I do.' when we need to, it doesn't really matter if I finish tying the ribbons on all the favors.

So I'm enjoying a drink, working on the little photoshop bits of things that I can, and enjoying a drink while (Future) Husband makes dinner for me and my family.

And honestly, I'm kind of thinking of just enjoying a round or two of Plants vs. Zombies...

Alright, the final countdown is on.



Ten days from now, Future Husband will lose the 'Future' portion of his name, and I get to officially adopt a new alliterative moniker.

At this point in the game, I have so much stress from the planning stages over the last year (not to mention the hell of a summer we had), that I'm just ready for it to be over. Is that strange? I already feel married, I just haven't had a big party and signed a piece of paper yet.

Although, that big party is going to be pretty awesome...

I haven't really gushed about my wedding on here (my facebook friends will say otherwise), so let me give you the highlights real quick (because I still have SOOOO much to do in the next ten days.

-The wedding's in Arizona, at a coffee shop that we found out we both frequented as teenagers, before we knew each other. It's gorgeous. I can't wait to post the pictures.
-The wedding is on Halloween. We wanted November 1st, (so our anniversary would be 11-1-11), but you'd be surprised at how hard it is to find a reasonably priced wedding venue for a Tuesday.
-Everyone in the wedding party is wearing Chuck Taylor's.
-Instead of flowers, we're decorating everything with Fall Leaves and Pumpkins.
-No YMCA or Chicken Dance at the reception. Instead, it'll be Thriller and The Time Warp.

Great Googily Moogily... I am SO EXCITED to share pictures!

*Warning!* - Another seriously old, seriously introspective blog! Proceed with caution!

When it comes to being a Hero or Villain, there are definitely shades of gray. With all of the 2007 turmoil, I didn't consider Future Husband a Villain. Conflicted, yes. Foolish, definitely. But I was just as much to blame for the mess. When he told me about his feelings, I could have told him that I reciprocated, but that he needed to end things with Crazy Ex#1 before we started carrying on. I initially did that, but the longer it took, the harder it was to resist him. Eventually it was a full fledged affair. And when it went sour, it hurt all three of us involved, and split our once tight social circle into two distinctive sides, even those that didn't want to be involved. Even today I say the bulk of the blame lies with Future Husband, but I'm not responsibility free. I know that.

And I'd like to think I'm smart enough to not make the same mistake twice... but I did.

Though in my defense, I didn't think I was making the same mistake. And the scenario wasn't exactly the same: It was actually worse. When Future Husband and I finally got together I lived in Oklahoma, and he lived in Seattle... with soon-to-be Crazy Ex #2. I thought that it would just be a fling, and he would finally be out of my system and out of my life. But it was the exact opposite of what ended up happening. Even when he started pushing for a relationship, I suggested we be friends while we were apart, and lovers while we were in the same city. Because, apparently, I like to make things unnecessarily complicated. Just like before, I didn't resist him for long. He promised to break up with Ex #2, just like he had with #1. I hoped that he had enough courage to do it, but was terrified he wouldn't. But something had changed in the years in between. Maybe finally being with me entirely was enough to make him realize I was worth fighting for. I was worth being a Villain for.

During the weeks between us becoming us, and him returning to Seattle from tour, he vented all of his frustrations and insecurities to me. He hated that he had to be a bad guy, but he gave himself the pep talks. I just agreed. He decided he would just blame the band for his reason for leaving Crazy Ex #2. I advised him that this was a bad idea, but if it's what he was comfortable doing, to go for it. He thought it would soften the blow. He also didn't want her to stab him or set his record collection on fire. I couldn't blame him, there. I'd heard through the web of mutual friends that she was just like Crazy Ex#1.

When he got back to Seattle, he followed through, broke up with her, and moved out. Things weren't easy, but he didn't make the same mistake he had in 2007. He chose me, this time. However, things didn't stay peachy for long. It turned out that Crazy Ex#2 had suspected me for a while, and had been facebook stalking me. A few days before Christmas, she was able to track down 'proof' in a comment I'd left on someone's page. She understandably blew her gasket.

She acted like a love torn 13 year old. It was embarrassing. Like those awkward comedies where you laugh because you feel so very bad for the person. For a woman who's almost 30, her behavior was abominable. She logged into Future Husband's social networks, sent out emails to his family and friends, and then changed his passwords so that he couldn't get back in right away to delete everything. She sent me numerous emails. She even sent one to my father on Christmas morning, preaching sisterhood, all the while sending drunken emails to Future Husband about how much she hated me and how I had ruined her life. Me. Not Future Husband for cheating on her. Me.

She harassed me for a few weeks online (she only tormented Future Husband for about a week), and even her mother and two friends got in on it. Months later, when she found out I was going on tour with the band, her nasty messages to me started back up. With only one friend getting in on the action the second time, so I guess that's an improvement. Though, she did threaten me. I'm not sure if she threatened to somehow use the internet to find me and cause me physical harm, or if she meant that she'd find my personal information and like... I don't know. Ruin my credit? Either way, the threat (thankfully) never panned out. Which is fortunate for them, too, because while I am not violence prone, I am vindictive, have a long memory, and have many beefy, violent Italian men that are wrapped around my little finger and willing to do literally anything for me. (Seriously. Back in 2007 when things imploded with FH, I argued with two of my cousins about giving them his home address.) Even now that my family (all of it) is happy with Future Husband, since the engagement I've gotten a few, "We're happy for you, but does he know that if he hurts you again, he's still dead?" It's the Italian in us., what can I say?

Although, on a side note, after months and months of Crazy Ex #2's online harassment, I finally gave in and replied. I never sent a reply to any of her emails (though I wrote a few) and never acknowledged her. I figured ignoring her would probably anger her more, and it kept my own muddled feelings from exploding and making me feel worse. After her last snarky comment (actually on this blog) I gave in to my mischievous side. I had her email address (and home address, and phone number, and work number - because she apparently assumed that I don't know how to use google) and decided to be naughty. After she stalked me and wrote me horrible nasty things for months, after she wrote to my father on Christmas in an effort to ruin our holiday, after she tried her hardest to hurt me (because she assumed I knew absolutely nothing about FH's history, flaws or dark side)... I signed her up for Midget Porn. Yep. You read that correctly. Midget Porn. After her hurtful words and hostile behavior, I threw a rubber chicken. I thought it was hilarious. I had one angry email from her even crazier friend after that, but since then she's left me alone. Never underestimate the power of miniature dominatrices.

What bothers me, to this day, about this situation, is that she considers me the Villain. Not Future Husband. Sure, I was a bad female. I was knowingly the 'other woman.' She even used the word "stole" in one of her tirades. That's always bothered me. It seems like the women who loudly proclaim that they do not want to be objectified are the first to accuse another woman of 'stealing her man.' It's not like I snuck into her backyard one night and took Future Husband because she forgot to lock him up. He's not a bicycle. He's an adult; fully capable of making his own decisions, good and bad.

We (thankfully) haven't heard from her for a few months now, so we're hoping she finally came to her senses, and has recognized that Future Husband treated her horribly. He pretty much used her as an excuse to get away from Crazy Ex #1, and then as a place to live so he wouldn't be homeless when the band moved from Arizona to Seattle. He even told me (before we became a couple) that he knew she was more in love with him, and that he felt bad about it. On the whole, he was truly villainous towards her, and yet she still seems to hold him up on a pedestal. I understand despising me (I would, too), but she's never met me. I don't know Crazy Ex #2 and hold nothing against her, aside from her atrocious behavior towards me concerning this fiasco. She should be angry at Future Husband. She should loathe him. And for some reason, I get the impression she doesn't. She still thinks I stole her bicycle.


In her story, he was Willoughby, and she just can't figure that out. Jane never lets us see Ms. Grey/Mrs. Willoughby. We only hear how Willoughby relates her to Elinor. So who knows how accurate that portrait was, given his past history of self preservation? So if you're still cyber stalking me, Crazyhead- forget Willoughby. Go find yourself your Colonel Brandon.

(On a side note, it seems I'm painting a really horrible picture of Future Husband and I. I guess I'm just trying to clear the air, and my conscience. I'm not perfect, neither is he. He's the Hero in my love story because he's perfect for me. Not because he's Clark Kent. We've both done bad things in our social lives and our love lives, but who hasn't? I'm just willing to share mine.)

Crazy Ex #2 has been intermittently on my mind since we went public with our engagement. I don't think I'll hear from her ever again, but I wouldn't be surprised, either, if there was another little flip out when she finds out that we're getting married and I'm not pregnant. Maybe the new batch of angry messages will come in November, after the wedding. Who knows? Let's hope, for everyone's sake, that she realized what a Douchey McDouchebag Future Husband was to her. That he was a villain in her story, not an anti-hero. Let's hope that she's come to the mature realization that harassing me (It's actually legal harassment - I looked it up. I could press charges if I wanted to.) isn't going to make her feel better, or help her move on.

And how do I do it, you ask? How do I sleep at night being a Villainess? After being instrumental in the heart break of two different women? Well, there are three things that keep me from feeling guilty for more than a few seconds;
1- Future Husband knew me before he know either of them, and in his own 2007 words, fell in love with me the night he met me. It's almost like they were the 'other women.' I was the original.
2- I was only an instrument. My favorite analogy; if you get stabbed by someone, you don't get angry at the knife.
3- Completely good heroes are boring. ;-)

**WARNING!** Serious Lori ramblings lay ahead. In fact, you will see the darker side of Lori in the following paragraphs. Not 'Making Cartoons in MS Paint' Lori, but 'Sitting in the Dark and being Unhealthily Introspective' Lori. You have yet to see this on this blog. Proceed with Caution!



Warning #2!! - I wrote this blog months and months ago, but just never posted it. Which is a pity, because I dearly love the above cartoon. I've decided, in the interest of getting back in the habit of blogging, to post this. A pretty sizable contributing factor to my lack of posting lately has been that I feel I can't really say what I want to say. Self censoring, in a way. Mostly because I've been afraid of offending people, should they happen across my little corner of cyberspace. Recently a few things have happened that have made me stop caring whether or not I offend someone by telling everyone the Emporor's naked. So I decided, before I start venting my frustrations by showing off everyone else's dirty laundry, I would expose a little of my own.


It probably doesn't come as any surprise to you that I enjoy writing fiction, as well as over exposed diary entries. I mean... blogs. So I've been mulling over the idea of Heroes and Villains. And in the good stories, there are no differences in their motivations. Each character believes they are doing what is right. The Villain doesn't know they are the antagonist, or at least, have not set out to be the bad guy. It seems that in the best stories, the Hero and Villain don't even know they're the protagonist and antagonist, they just are.

I've had the word 'fairytale' thrown at me as an insult by both friend and foe, and I fully admit that my coping mechanism is storytelling. I put things into a linear storyline so it's easier for me to swallow. I know perfectly well that life doesn't always happen that way. People don't even behave in a linear fashion, usually. Many factors motivate people, not a sequence of events. Literature, Life and Fairytales alike begin and end in medias res. Life is told in chapters. I've been translating my written world way of thinking into real life, and I've realized that we are all both Hero and Villain. Even the people I love most - me, my family and friends, Future Husband - we have all been both.




Lately, I've been thinking a lot about Crazy Ex #1 and Crazy Ex #2. It's well known among Future Husband's friends and family that he has terrible taste in women. The joke is that he's just very lucky that I have strange taste in men, and we ended up together.

(Seriously, when I met his parents for the first time at Christmas 2010 I could tell they were uneasy. Even in March when we stayed with them for two weeks, it seemed like they were a little reserved, just waiting for me to take a sudden detour into Crazytown. It took them a while to realize I wasn't going to go kookoo bananas anytime soon.)

Future Husband and I met before he'd even met Crazy Ex #1. Which is how I've been able to justify being a terrible female by allowing him to cheat on her with me, back in 2007. Things didn't turn out very well for me then, which I suppose is exactly what I deserved. In the beginning I made the mistake of trying to become friends with Crazy Ex #1, so when everything went to hell in a hand basket, she not only had to deal with her boyfriend being unfaithful, but someone she thought was a friend betraying her. That is what I feel awful about. I never should have tried to be friendly with her. After everything exploded spectacularly (I won't tell the story here, as it's the subject of an entire novel I'm writing), Future Husband had a lot of back peddling and butt kissing to do. Their relationship only lasted another year, which delighted me - he lost forever with me for one more year with a crazy girl (or so we thought). In that year, he got her name tattooed inside a heart on his arm. It's also a common man's name, so it's kinda funny. We humorously took care of that in Denver. But he also made the mistake of entering into a Domestic Partnership with her. We've been working to dissolve that, and we're almost done, but that's why she's been on my mind lately.

Thinking of Crazy Ex #1 has made me feel something I thought I never would, especially where she is concerned. She is a spectacular waste of space and, in general, a lousy human - nothing to contribute to mankind on an intellectual, creative or humanitarian basis - but that doesn't mean she deserved to be treated the way I treated her. That doesn't raise her on the human bean scale at all, but it does seem to lower me. I'm disappointed in myself for behaving so poorly towards her, and not doing myself justice. I purposely manipulated her, used her, and thoroughly despised her during the entire duration of our 'friendship.' I felt territorial over Future Husband. He knew me first, and yet she had somehow wiggled in line in front of me. She's a pretty loud, 'out there' kind of personality. While I was flirting subtly with young FH, she was bold and socially aggressive. Of course, now I know that FH was just as unsure of me returning his feelings as I was of his. So it's understandable why a 21 year old boy would go for the girl that made her feelings readily available and easy to read. I can't blame him for that. I can't blame her, either.

A long time ago I made a joke to Future Husband about Crazy Ex #1, and he said, "Well, we know how that turned out. You won."

It ruffled my feathers a bit, because I always considered her to be the competitive one. (Towards the end of the craziness in 2007, she kept lightening her hair, and flat out told me she wanted it to be the same color as mine.) I realized something when he said that; I hadn't cared about winning where she was concerned, I'd cared about being right. I've always been one of those stubborn kids that has a hard time admitting they're wrong, and on the same note, backing off when I'm right. To me, Crazy Ex #1 and Future Husband just didn't make sense together. They were incompatible. We made sense. We fit; we were right. They weren't. That's why I was territorial. Why I was uncharacteristically competitive, manipulative and mean.

Now, with Crazy Ex #1 on my mind while Future Husband and I work on getting rid of her paper trail, I am prepared to do something I rarely do. Crazy Ex #1 is unintelligent, uncaring, spiteful, competitive and manipulative. And I lowered myself to her level.

So if you ever come across my little corner of the blogosphere, Crazyhead, on that long walk I want you to take off a short pier... know that I'm sorry for the way I treated you. I was genuinely terrible to you, and I should not have been. Your inferiority to me did not give me the right to behave badly.

I was wrong. I'm sorry.

As far as Crazy Ex #1 is concerned, when the credits roll on her life story, I'll be billed as a Villain, and justly so. I'm the Hero of my own story, and she's simply a plot point. But I was a terrible person towards her, and she has every right to feel that. If she's capable of human emotion (I have my doubts.)

Maybe it's the time and the distance between the shit storm that was 2007, and now; maybe it's just that I'm older and a little wiser, but I feel more forgiving towards Crazy Ex #1's behavior towards me. Granted, just because I was horrible, doesn't mean she was Pollyanna, she's bar fight kind of crazy. Once she realized I had feelings for Future Husband she was just as manipulative and mean. Now I can see why, though. How horrible to realize that someone you thought was your friend was actually using you just to be closer to your boyfriend. Major suckage. And honestly, I probably would have acted the same. But when the manure did hit the oscillating air dispersal device, I got mad at Future Husband. In fact, I was mad for years. Sure, I wasn't quiet about recognizing what an awful person Crazy Ex #1 was, but I didn't write blogs about how angry I was at her. Because I wasn't. I didn't turn into one of those ridiculous Springer-esque kind of girls that gets mad at the girl. I got mad at FH for using me, and treating me horribly. Like I should have.

Crazy Ex #2, however, can't say the same about her behavior....

"WTF?" were Future Husband's first words when he saw me. Not abbreviated, of course.

But let's go back a little bit further.

I finished writing my blog about the San Diego snafu about 9:00am, but decided to schedule it to post four hours later, just in case something else funny happened that I needed to add to the story. So I spent the rest of the morning texting FH about how much I missed him, talking about silly things, talking about naughty things. Usual text banter for us. By 11:00am I was so nervous I was pretty sure I was going to throw up. Or die. Or both.

I'd gone over in my head exactly how I wanted the surprise to go. He was going to come through the back door, and I would be in the living room, which is situated a little behind the door, but with a clear view of it. He would see my things on the kitchen table, and I would wait until he looked to be at the apex of confusion, then walk up behind him and say something witty like, "Did you figure it out yet?" or something romantic, like, "Hello, Handsome." I pulled all of the blinds down, so he wouldn't see me when he walked through the back yard.

By 11:30am, I knew he had to be nearly to town. And ten minutes later I was told they were at a friend's house, unloading the equipment. That's when my palms started sweating. I knew I would be seeing Future Husband for the first time in two months. It felt like longer; it felt like three. The tiny week he was home between tours didn't give us nearly enough time together. The more I watched the clock, the faster my heart was racing, and the knottier my stomach was becoming. I forced myself to focus on silly things, like Mah Jong and Cracked.com. But it wasn't working too well. All I could do was run over the upcoming moment in my head. I wanted it to be perfect.

Finally, about 12:15pm, I heard voice outside. I dropped everything (literally, hours later I recovered my cell phone from under the couch) and ran to the window, careful to not be seen through cracks in the blinds. I could see the big white Ogre, and could hear a few different voices. The front door rattled, but was still bolted.

Oh, crap. I thought. He's trying to come through the front. Did she say she left the key up front?

My nerves disappeared. I no longer worried about what I was going to say to make the moment perfect. I knew the plan was out the window, so I had to improvise. I ran to the front door (seriously, I ran) and flung it open. G and D turned around and shock flashed across their faces.

"Holy shit! What are you doing here?" G said.

"Surprise!" I laughed. Future Husband was no where in sight. I looked into the van, hoping maybe he was pulling something out from under a bench, but no luck.

"He went around back," G said. Crap. My plan totally could have worked, but I got impatient. G hugged me, and I nervously explained my being in Arizona (which in hindsight, was probably barely coherent.) As I was rambling on, G looked at something over my shoulder and pointed behind me.



I turned around to see Future Husband in the doorway, his eyes wide and disbelieving. "What the f***!?" He grabbed me into a tight hug, and I giggled as my head swam with dizziness. It was finally here. After weeks of planning and scheming, and long hours spent pining after him, he was finally back in my arms. Scruffier, smellier and a lot skinnier than when I saw him last on April 5th, but back. With me. My heart stopped racing, and my palms stopped sweating, but the shaking had started. Every part of me, especially my hands, were quivering. We hugged and kissed, and tried to finish getting his things out of the van.

"I... I just can't even think right now," he said, after I asked him if he'd gotten everything. Over the next few hours he told me I was 'fantastic' and 'amazing' and 'awesome' and other wonderful adjectives to be described as. We got him showered and fed and well... I'm sure you can guess what else.

So I didn't get to say any of the clever or romantic I had rehearsed endlessly in my head. Nothing ended up going according to plan. But when all was said and done, the moment was still perfect. And now we're reunited, and it feels so good.

Ok, remember how I said my grandmother had gotten sick and taken a turn for the worst in April? (I know, this is a pretty craptastic way to start a blog with 'comedy' in the title, hang in there...) I flew down after Future Husband left town for the second, longer leg of tour. I got to visit my Grandmother for what could have been the last time (it wasn't, thank goodness!) and while I was out there for a long weekend, had Sunday dinner with my Future In-Laws.

Let me just say that both Future Husband and I are incredibly lucky. We both have In-Laws that are easy to get along with and adore us. My parents have been crazy about FH since he beat my mother at Scrabble many, many years ago (she had been undefeated for 30 years previously) and his parents have loved me since they realized I was intelligent and sane. (Which, compared to his previous girlfriends, is a vast improvement.)

So while I was having dinner with them that first Sunday in April, I ran the idea past them of me potentially coming out to Arizona at the end of May/beginning of June to surprise Future Husband. He and I had discussed me flying out for a weekend to visit him, but then when we crunched the numbers, we realized a round trip flight, a few motel rooms and food would end up costing what me being away for a whole month of the next tour would be, and it just didn't seem logical. But it got my wheels turning. I scrimped and saved, and since April was a three pay day month, I was able to buy a one way ticket out to Arizona.

I waited until Mother's Day to bring it up again, and let the In-Laws know I had indeed purchased a ticket, and reminded them of our conversation in early April. They said that of course it would be alright for me to fly out and spend a day or two with them before Future Husband rolled into town.

The surprise is my goal. Yes, we'll be reunited two whole weeks sooner than originally planned. Which is effing fantastic. But it's the element of surprise I'm most excited about. It's so ridiculously hard for me to keep a secret from Future Husband, even with things like Christmas and Birthday presents. So the fact that I've been able to keep my mouth shut this whole time, and not accidentally give him any hints, is well... awesome. I'm very proud of myself.

So since April 19th I've been sitting on this secret visit of mine. Diligently counting down the days with FH until I got to see him again, while all the while keeping a real countdown simultaneously. I was going to fly out to Arizona on May 28th, and made sure my visit was on a need-to-know basis. The cousin that picked me up from the Airport, and the cousin that would drop me off at the In-Laws. A few friends got informed over the weekend, but told to keep it under the strictest of secrets. Mainly, to maintain Facebook and Twitter silence. (Oh, this modern world of ours!)

The day finally came. I woke up at 5:30am after a three and a half hour nap (after a 37 hour day) and caught a bus to the airport. By noon I was landing in Phoenix, and later that night I was staying with a cousin. Doing my best to not let on to Future Husband that I was in Arizona, spinning a web of little whites lies about what I was doing. "Oh, I'm talking to my cousin." Hoping he would assume on the phone or online, and not in her living room.

So Sunday evening I had this cousin drop me off at the In-Laws' house. As we were pulling up and I was giving directions I said, "My sister in law's car should be out front." But it wasn't. I had her drop me off anyway (as I'd talked to my Father in Law on Thursday and reminded him of my secret visit.) No one was home, so I just assumed that they were out at the store, or perhaps some sort of car event, and would be back soon. So I sat down on a seat on the porch, plugged in my laptop, and caught up on some Cracked.com articles.

Then I got a call from Future Husband...

Without a preceding text or two asking what I was up to, if I was available for a call, etc.. We usually check with each other to make sure batteries and surroundings are ready for what might turn into a lengthy call. He began his call with, "So I just got off the phone with my dad..."

My heart sank. I could hear the weirdness in FH's voice. I just knew his dad had let something slip about my presence in Arizona.

"...and he and mom are in San Diego." A mixture of feelings erupted in me. 'Yes! He doesn't know I'm in Arizona!' and very quickly followed by, 'Crap! I'm locked out of the house and I really have to pee!'

I composed myself quickly and said, "Oh, no! I just reminded him earlier this week that you'd be in town!"

While I was talking to Future Husband, I got a text response from his sister, since I'd asked her if she was having dinner with her parents that night. Her text told me the same as FH just had. I shot a text back quickly, "Oh no! I'm on their front porch waiting for them! Don't tell Future Husband!!"

While FH and I discussed how he could get into the house (Sister in Law has a key, and was going to come by Monday evening to take care of the animals) I got another text from her. Luckily, the first band started playing just then, so Future Husband ended his call (after we'd brainstormed that he would have to go pick up the key from her before going back out to his parents' house.) I called her right away.

I quickly explained the situation, and that it was a surprise for Future Husband. She agreed to bring the key out to me, and we schemed about the cover story we'd tell FH. Just as we settled on the idea that we'd tell him there was a key under the mat, when really there was just a future wife in the house to let him in, FH sent me a grumpy text, telling me that G didn't want to make a 40 mile detour.

For a moment I was stuck. I couldn't say anything that might give away my unique position to help him, but I had to depend on Future Sister in Law to not accidentally spill the beans. I told FH to call FSiL and see if she could work something out.

A few moments later, he replied that he'd just spoken to her, and she told him the cover story she and I had discussed earlier. With a triumphant, "Yes! She rules!" text, I was finally able to rest easy.

When FSiL and her boyfriend arrived to let me in, the first thing she said as she got out of the car was, "I called dad and told him what happened, made him feel bad. He thought it was next weekend."

As I was telling my cousin earlier that very day, I was worried about FH's parents accidentally letting him know I was in town. They're both ridiculously intelligent people. Both well read and educated, clever and witty. Their awesome children are a product of their own awesomeness. But they are a little... flighty. I already refer to them as 'Ma and Pa' when I talk to them, and already care for them a great deal. I can honestly see myself growing very close to them over the next few years. Like I said, Future Husband and I really, really lucked out in the In-Law department. But still, I recognize that his parents are not always the most... attentive. That's a nice word for it. Really, it's probably just that they got involved in their own work and social lives and lost track of the dates. Lord knows I'm no stranger to that. Regardless, it makes for a pretty humorous story.

"That's okay!" I laughed. "I hope he doesn't feel too bad. It's actually kind of funny. And it worked out alright."

With a combination of the Future In-Laws losing track of the dates and G's somewhat justifiably douchebaggery; and after a panicky (yet hilarious) twenty minute period, I've come to see the silver lining; Future Husband and I get the whole house all to ourselves for our surprise reunion. I am a very happy Lori.

And now it's just a waiting game. Future Husband is currently somewhere between Albuquerque and Flagstaff, and I'm waiting anxiously, all alone, at his parents' house. Going over how I want to surprise him, trying to think of something clever and romantic to say when he walks in and unexpectedly sees me.

I'll let you know how it goes!

One blustery day towards the end of March, while I had Future Husband home for a week between tours, our new friends Josh and Ali from JayLee Photography took us out and shot us.

With their cameras.

Sometime around Birthmas I had posted an ad on Craigslist, seeing if any budding photographers wanted to build up their portfolio with an Engagement Shoot. There was one fellow we were strongly considering, a photographer that had many years experience with architecture and nature shots, but was wanting to transition into the Wedding business. And then Josh and Ali came along. Already quite seasoned in the biz, they offered to do a shoot with us, and we couldn't resist after seeing their beautiful photography.

Having dabbled in photography in college, it's hard for me to not look at someone's work and immediately start critiquing it, even if I like it. I don't mean to imply that I could do any better, it's just simply that I know the technical side of what goes into a photograph, and it's hard for me to turn off the analytical part of my brain. I'll wish they'd used a different aperture, or shutter speed, or hadn't gone crazy with the photoshopping. With Josh and Ali's work, I don't do that. I look at it, and feel something first. So much so that it takes real effort for me to critique it. Their photos are full of whimsy and romance, and seem to capture the essence of the couples they work with. Their pictures aren't posed and plasticine. They are all little views into candid, happy moments with the couples they worked with.

Needless to say, Future Husband and I were massively excited about working with them. And we were not let down. Some of these pictures even moved me to tears, they so well captured FH and I.



You can see a nice selection of our shoot here. Though I highly recommend checking out their portfolio. You won't be disappointed.

We were so happy with the shoot, even if it was wet, cold and windy (it's Seattle, what else would it be?) and thrilled with the photos that came from it. Thank you so much, Josh and Ali!!!

Okay, the time has come, few followers of mine. (Can I call you minions yet? Please?)

I'm sure I've mentioned it too much, but I've been working on a book about Future Husband and I, and our crazy, teenage, young-and-stupid stumble towards wedded bliss. I didn't know it was leading to wedding bells, mind you, when I started working on the book. But ta da! It is.

I titled that book quite a while ago, and since I am still young enough at heart to not-so-secretly crave Rock Star status authorhood once I'm published, I've also titled the two subsequent books in the trilogy. Thanks, Jane Austen, for always writing your books in three acts. Now I do it, to.

Only a few months after we got together, I decided that I wanted to write a fourth book. Maybe not part of the 'trilogy' per se, but a book that could stand alone or be read in sequence. The title, which was amazing, ifIdosaysomyself, came to me almost instantly. So I've been sitting on it for about a year and a half, much longer than I've had this blog.

Honestly, I probably should have given the blog that title from the get go, but I didn't want anyone to come along and steal it before I can use it.

But the other day, as I was talking to Future Husband about it (because I'd mentioned it to my cousin Jinxie and she loved it) I said, "I'd love to rename my blog, but I want to use it for a book, later on down the road."

He asked (he's always so good at helping me see the things I overlook), "Why can't it be both?"

And I paused for a moment, but couldn't think of a good reason. So voila! Some time in the next few days I'll be changing the name of my blog. The address will stay the same, so no need to worry. Just keep an eye out in your 'Blogs I Follow' section.

Firstly, let me say that Future Husband hates the expression 'Tour Widow.' Probably because he takes it literally. Which is probably because I keep warning him to drive safe, not be too tired, or drunk, or let either G or D be incapacitated. Not to make me a widow before I can actually be one.

But, I mean, c'mon. How much would it suck to have your fiance die right before the wedding? You're losing your husband, but there are no legal benefits or responsibilities. So you're powerless in a time of personal crisis. Then add on to it the fact that there's some sort of social stigma. Like, "Oh, your boyfriend died 3 months ago? Why aren't you dating again?" compared to, "Oh, your husband died 3 months ago? I'm so sorry. How are you feeling?"

Still, though. I like the phrase 'Tour Widow' and I've seen other bloggers in my situation use it.

And my situation is this; there wasn't room for me in the van for their short Seattle to Austin migration. (Seriously, the Seattle music scene is a ghost town right now. Everyone's flying south by southwest for the Spring.) They're sharing a van and equipment with another band. It's a smart choice, both economically and for their career. This band is a little bit bigger and well connected, and was able to get them into some good SXSW shows.

So when the tour started last weekend, I followed them down to Oregon in my little Hyundai, named Francine. Future Husband and I stayed in cheap motels and did our best to enjoy the last few days of each others company. Unfortunately, with the work situation, the driving and the two shows, we got maybe 10 hours sleep between Wednesday and Sunday, total.

We parted ways in Central Oregon on Sunday morning. I did my best not to cry, and he kissed me tenderly, and called me 'Wife' with a wicked little smile. He climbed into the bigger van and started towards Lake Tahoe, and I got back into Francine and started back to Seattle.

When I finally arrived back at our house, I crashed for nearly 14 hours. It was lovely. Except that it made me wake up 5 hours before the start of my first job. So I decided that I should use this abundant energy to my advantage, before my brain realized just how far away Future Husband was.

I cleaned our room, picking up bits of trash that had accumulated over the last two weeks. Sorted the laundry, and got all of the dirties picked up off the floor. I even managed to decorate a little bit, putting up one of the good pictures from our Engagement Photo session in January. I drank half a pot of coffee, and wore real clothes and listened to music while I cleaned, like a normal person. (My usual cleaning routine is pajama pants and a Jane Austen movie on in the background.) After cleaning I ran to the bank, the thrift store and grabbed a quick lunch out before going to work. I was a whirlwind of productivity.


But after nannying, getting ready for my night time job, and a long, frustrating night, I was exhausted. Add to it the fact that this new night time job I have is for the same company that Future Husband works for, and that he trained me, and it's a strange emotional roller coaster. Whenever I had a question about what I should do, I couldn't just go to him and ask. I sat alone at lunch. And while I got to talk to him briefly during the break, it just wasn't quite the same. So when I got out of work at 8am, feeling tired and lonely, getting lost was the last thing I needed. I turned the wrong direction out of the parking lot in the fog, and ended up two miles away before I realized my mistake. I was able to eventually turn around and find my way back and get on the right track home, but it was insanely frustrating. And it delayed me enough that I was stuck in horrific morning rush hour traffic. What should have been a 35-40 minute drive, turned into a 90 minute one. A few minutes in, right after I had gotten on the right freeway, some silly, mopey, lovesick song started blaring out of my iPod, and it started the waterworks.

So there I sat, stuck in foggy, bumper-to-bumper traffic, thinking of the cute way Future Husband walks with his hands in his pockets and the quirky, non-sequitur things he'll say to make me laugh. Even though it wasn't the longest we had gone without seeing each other since we've lived together (which was 3.5 days in July, when I flew down to AZ for a wedding), I knew that it was going to be a lot longer. So I felt the full brunt of missing him, because I was too tired to think rationally and stave it off.


The rest of the week has alternately flown by or dragged on. Every moment he's away feels supernaturally elongated, but sitting here on Saturday, looking back at it, it's like it was over in a flash. I've had similar ups and downs emotionally, but have done my best to let my brain hold the reigns over my heart.

We'll see how the next two weeks feel.

I know no one else will find this as amusing or adorable as I will, but I had to post it anyway.

Future Husband's throat is sore tonight, which I'm sure is just the result of being dehydrated, playing a show (and therefore, screaming) and drinking beer. So I made him drink a glass of water, and now he's got a mug of hot coffee. I'm sure he'll be fine in no time.

A few minutes ago, I was about to run into the kitchen to top off his mug, but leaned in for a kiss first. But before I got there, he said, "My throat hurts when I talk."

To which I replied, "It's okay, we don't need to talk. We can just point and grunt. We understand each other." And kissed him. Our foreheads were pressed against each others, so I gave him another quick little peck.

Then he whispered back, "No, I'll just whisper"
*kiss*
FH: "Like a dying magician on his deathbed."
*kiss*
Me: "Okay, that'll work too."
*kiss*
FH: "I can finally tell you-"
*kiss*
FH: "-where I've been hiding all of those doves and rabbits."

At this point, I had to lean my face down and try to keep myself from doing that snorty kind of laugh. I looked back up at him, smiled and said, "Oh, I love you."

To which he whispered, still sounding as serious as he possibly could, "I love you so much. My little dove, my little rabbit... meine hossenfeffer."

After that, one of the little snorty laugh escaped.

If you've been reading my blog for at least the last month or two, you know that I spent this Christmas with my Future In-Laws in Arizona, and that we earned our gas money by touring down.

So Future Husband and I didn't really get a chance to exchange gifts. Mostly because we couldn't figure out a way to fit them in the van to transport them back up. (We had a hard enough time getting the gifts we did get from the Rents in the van.)

When we got back into town, we picked the Friday after his birthday as the day we would celebrate Christmas. We jokingly started calling it 'Birthmas' (which yes, I realize is redundant.) We waited for our first paychecks to come in, and then went shopping. Not for much, mind you, we're still livin' on love.

Thursday was Future Husbands 27th birthday (god, I can't believe I met him when he was only 20!) and we celebrated primarily with food, since we both had work Mon-Thurs of that week. We started the festivities on Wednesday night, since his birthday started at midnight while he was at work. My contribution, other than cooking it, was putting on a pair of yellow kitchen gloves, a turtleneck sweater pulled up over my mouth and nose, and my glasses so that I could slice up some bell peppers for him. I'm allergic, you see. At the store I found the mom-est looking lady in the produce section, and asked her how to pick the ripe ones. I sliced them up, fried them with some onions so he could top his spaghetti and meatballs (to take with him to work) and for his fajitas (for dinner before work). When I woke him up for dinner, he said, "I thought I smelled bell peppers, but I knew it couldn't be true. But it is!"

Friday was an interesting day. When he got home from work I had a big Italian feast waiting for him - homemade Caesar dressing and croutons for the salad, Bruschetta, Shrimp and Zucchini Carbonara with extra bacon, and homemade cheesecake. We made it through everything, but decided to save the cheesecake for later, since we were so full. By the time we were done, it was almost 1 o'clock. Band practice was at 3. So we decided to stay up for it. Since we do laundry at G and D's house, we were stuck there til almost 7 o'clock waiting for the clothes to finish drying. We got home, cut ourselves a slice of cheesecake each, and then a second (seriously, we ate half the thing right there, and it was a double cheesecake in a deep pan.) We put the plate in the sink and just kept going at it with a spoon.

After violating the cheesecake, we went to our room and celebrated Birthmas. Earlier in the day, while we were waiting to do to practice, I'd cut out and taped together our little Birthmas tree, and used some thread to tape it to the ceiling. It fell down later, but we put it back up.


.



I got Future Husband a shiny new Wok (so he can cook me all sorts of delicious Asian-y things) and a new pair of real Chuck Taylors. Not the Payless knock-offs.

He got me... a Wii!!! I was totally shocked, and super stoked when I opened it. (He also got me a super cute card with two little cartoon spoons on the front that said something about how much he likes 'spooning' with me... and then a joke about 'forking' on the inside.) And some mysterious jolly man gave us Guinness and our favorite Mountain Dew flavor for our Call of Duty time.

After opening our Birthmas presents, we collapsed into 14 hours of much needed sleep.

New Year's Day was spent mostly in bed. Future Husband and I rolled out of bed about 5pm, mostly because we were painfully thirsty. Literally, in pain. My New Year's Eve got a little out of control. I was fine with what I was drinking, but Future Sister in Law brought Jell-O shots, and because you chew them, I forget that they are not food. So yes. I woke up at 5pm on January first, desperately needing a glass of water and missing an earring. I still haven't found it.

We came downstairs, and the Future Parents in Law had just finished eating all of the snacky deliciousness that was leftover from the party. Not wanting leftover Turkey and Dumpling soup (again) we decided to throw caution to the wind and use some of our Christmas money to go out to eat.

We ended up at Native New Yorker with hot wings, a meatball hoagie, a calzone, and trivia. And lots and lots of tea and water. Even though we joined the game late, we still won by 5,000+ points. Still, though... not the most exciting New Year's Day.

The second, however, was relatively eventful for us. FH had band practice, and I stayed behind to get ready for our Engagement Photo shoot. It wasn't like we hired a photographer, unless you consider paying his sister by taking her out to dinner payment. When FH got home from practice, and FSiL arrived, and I had finished straightening my ridiculously unruly hair (which only took a surprising 45 minutes), we walked over to one of the little grassy, park like areas near the FPiL's house.

(On a side note, all of these crazy abbreviations make me feel like I'm writing something of more importance than a personal anecdote.)

We got there, and were all a little confused as to what to do. We knew that most couples took happy looking pictures in pretty green places, so we had that down. We were losing light, though, and hadn't brought any sweatshirts or jackets, so it was rapidly getting colder. We even had matching out fits, intentionally, for once.

The results were pretty hilarious. Since none of us knew what we should do, we just kind of winged it. The only advice my mother had given me a few days previously was, "Don't make stupid faces. I don't know what it is about you two, but for such good looking kids, you always take horrible pictures. Don't mug and make faces. Just relax and smile."

We tried to relax and smile, we really did. But the problem with that is that we relax and start talking. And don't stop. And then laugh. So of the 55 photos FSiL took, 5 or 6 of them turned out nicely. If you don't count the one where we look good, but there is quite obviously dog poopies in the grass behind us. The other fifty or so... well. See for yourself;

Looking back at where I was last New Year's time, and where I am now, is really sort of mind boggling.

This time last year, when I had to sit down and name this blog, I knew that I was about to undergo a lot of change. So I decided to call it 'Third Time's the Charm.' Not, as a certain Crazy Ex of Future Husband's alleged, because I was giving him a third chance, but because this is the third time I've had a big, life altering change.

A lot of my past blogs (and before that, diaries) have complained about feeling stagnant or lost, not really knowing where I was going or why or who with. When I was 11 years old, my family's home burnt down on New Year's Day. Since then, it's always been a strange day for me. Not so much a holiday, but more like a day of remembrance. Like when a loved one passes away. When the house burned, we lost literally everything. There were a few things we were thankfully able to save; some of my cousins dug through the rubble and found my parents' wedding rings, the contents of my mother's cedar chest (her wedding dress included), and the family photos the firemen grabbed off the wall when they realized we weren't home. We lived in a hotel for a while, then bounced around with relatives until the insurance company got us an apartment. The people at our church donated clothes and toys for us, but really, all we had left from before was what we had when the house went up in flames; each other.

Eleven years later (and funnily enough, the fire marking the middle point in my life), my family fell into financial ruin. We'd tried to keep our heads above water, but my mother and I got laid off within two weeks of each other. Me one week before Christmas, and her one week after. Only a few weeks earlier, knowing we were living paycheck to paycheck and fed up with Phoenix's price and weather, we'd had a family meeting and decided to move to Tulsa. We'd been through the city before on a family road trip, and fallen in love with the area. The cost of living was less than half of Phoenix's, and the economy and job market better. So when Mom and I were both suddenly jobless, we decided that instead of moving to Tulsa in the Summer of '09, we'd go right then. So in early January (again), we decided that it we'd start over. Again.

The two years I spent in Tulsa were some of the happiest of my life. I made friends, I made and saved money. I paid for two vacations entirely by myself, as well as helping support my family. I had a job I loved and finally lived in city I liked. I felt like I had finally found a home. But as everything started falling into place for me financially and personally, I found myself thinking more and more of Future Husband. At that point in time, he was still The One Who Got Away. Or rather, to him I was The One Who Got Away Because I Was A Stupid Git. We hadn't spoken to each other since May of 2007. As more and more of 2008 passed by, I found myself missing his conversation and company, and remembering all the fun we'd had together, rather than the heartache and sleeplessness and weepy self loathing he had caused me. Believe me, there was plenty of that, but that's not what I found myself thinking of in quiet moments. I missed him. I hated myself for it, and looked for answers in the bottoms of bottles. Because of the internet and our circle of mutual friends, I was able to keep tabs on him from afar. So when I found out in October of 2008 that his band would be playing a show in Tulsa in December, I seized my opportunity. I thought I might get some sort of closure out of it, but all it did was rip the stitches out of a wound that was not yet healed.

The rest, as they say, is history. Nine months after that, we were a couple. And I was faced with another big decision- try and tackle this incredibly significant relationship long distance (as if we hadn't been over enough speedbumps), or move to Seattle? Future Husband had said he was willing to quit his band and move to Tulsa, but I knew that he wouldn't be happy, and that he, G and D would miss out on something great. (Now that I live with them, and vicariously reap the benefits of a functioning band, I kick myself for not trying harder when I was in a band as a teenager. We could have been good, too, and we weren't, because I never took it seriously enough. One of the few regrets I carry.) I desperately tried to think of a way that things would work if I stayed in Tulsa, but there was just no way. Future Husband had mentioned marriage only five days into our romantic relationship. It surprised me, but the idea felt right. (That was even more surprising.) So I decided to leave behind everything I had worked to build up over the last two years, and move to Seattle, leaving behind the job I loved, The Bestest, my home, and most importantly, my Family. All for love.

So now I've started over for a third time. I'm hoping that this is the last time I will have to change everything about my life and begin with nothing. It probably won't be, but I sure hope it is. I like the idea of building a life with Future Husband, and slowly accumulating and accomplishing all of the milestones that couples pass.

I love lists, so I'm going to make a list of all of the crazy/awesome things that have happened to me over the last year.

-I moved to Seattle, a city I probably would have always wanted to visit, but never would have.
-I went to (or through) 18 states that I had not been to before, leaving 18 continental states that I have yet to see. (I'd already been through 12 of them.)
-I visited New Orleans twice.
-I became formally engaged.
-I lived in a van for 7 months.
-I visited three foreign countries, and got my first stamps in my first Passport.
-I was a bridesmaid for the first (and probably only) time.
-I've made new friends all over the country (and one in France!). Seriously. My facebook list is awesome.

And as I've been reflecting over this for the past few days, thinking of what would go on that list, I've realized that though I worry about things; like planning the wedding, and money, and being able to tour next year, I don't feel stagnant or lost anymore. I don't worry about not ever doing anything with my life. I thought that I felt like myself in Oklahoma, and undoubtedly without those years I wouldn't be who or where I am now. For the first time I can remember in a long time (honestly, probably since my pre-fire childhood), I finally feel like myself. I feel completely comfortable in my own skin, in my own life. I don't find myself yearning for things I don't have (except money) and comforting myself with the idea of 'someday.'

All of my somedays are happening.

Towards the end of the fall tour, G asked us if we would be down to do a small tour down to Arizona, just so he could be with his family for Christmas. We agreed, of course. And so here we are on Christmas Eve, at Future Husband's parents' house. It works out well, since we ended up spending Thanksgiving with my folks.

Today started off a little rocky. I'd gone to bed last night with a ridiculously sore throat for the first time in a week. I gargled salt water, took an Advil, and went to bed early. (And by early, I mean 4:30am instead of 6.) When my (almost) Mother-In-Law knocked on the door a few hours later to have Future Husband and I help with the Turkey and the various side dishes, I was surprised (but happy) to find that my sore throat had vanished. Hooray warm salt water!

So after giving the turkey a butter massage, and making sure it was thoroughly stuffed with oyster dressing, I settled onto the couch with a cup of coffee and a book. It didn't last long, though, before sleepiness set in, and Future Husband and I went back upstairs for a nap. There was another knock on our door four hours later from my (almost) Sister-In-Law told us a family friend was visiting. We got up and dressed, and went downstairs to visit for a while before it was time for our Christmas Eve dinner.

Once (almost) Father-In-Law got home from work, we started finishing up the last bit of dinner (gravy, mashing potatoes, adding the onions to the green bean casserole.) FH, FSiL and I ran to the only open grocery store for some last minute dinner rolls and a bottle of wine. Then we sat down for the big spread. It reminded me a lot of what I would have had at home with my folks; Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, corn and tomato casserole (something FH is always raving about), and of course... cranberry sauce. If you don't know me in real life, or haven't been reading my blog for a while, you should know that I freaking love cranberry sauce. You can read all about it here. (I only got made fun of once tonight for my cranberry sauce consumption.)

After dinner we all sat down and watched a movie together (Gentleman Broncos, "You stole my gnads, Dennis!") before getting on with the annual tradition of decorating gingerbread cookies. I made the cookies a few days earlier (in a mad baking marathon) and accidentally burned them. Resulting in darker than usual gingerbread men, and Future Husband making a racially insensitive gingerbread man.

I however, took the half man that was the leftover dough, and the cookie that got his head popped off. And made this;


Behold, a GingerZombie Cookie Attack. Merry Christmas!

Here's the best picture I was able to get myself. It's kinda blurry, but it was the clearest I took. We're supposed to have some pictures taken with a friend later this week, so hopefully there'll be some better, non-self-portrait pics later.

For those of you that don't keep up with the news, or are not astronomical nerds like me, tonight was a ridiculously rare event. Tonight is Winter Solstice, a full moon, AND a total lunar eclipse. The last time this happened was in 1638, 372 years ago.

Here in Arizona, there's an Italian restaurant that Future Husband's been wanting to take me to, called Baci. It's kind of out in the middle of nowhere, but seems to be doing well, which tells me they probably have a seriously loyal customer base. For dinner tonight, FH took me out for dinner to celebrate the Solstice. We started the night with an amazing Antipasto Salad. It was like Caprese Salad, but on delicious, meaty steroids. We chose soup over salad; I had Meatball and Orzo, he had Tortellini. For dinner, he had Shrimp and Scallops Florentine, and I had Chicken and Artichoke Limone. And desert? We split a Cannoli, of course. It was an amazing (and painfully filling) meal. And even though I've lived in a van with him for seven of the last ten months (and we literally cannot escape each others company), I still enjoy alone time with Future Husband. Especially date nights. It's one of the traits of my secretly girly side.

We drove home for a little pit stop until it was time to go out to see the eclpise. We chose to go to one of the county parks far away from everything, even the suburbs, so it was nice and dark. After getting a little turned around, we found the park and pulled Future Mother-in-Law's truck onto a little dirt road. We spread out sleeping bags in the back of the truck, and got to moon watching. Or trying to, anyway. Thick cloud cover had rolled in a few hours earlier, though. So we cuddled up under the sleeping bags (on the chilly, 55 degree Arizona night), and eavesdropped on the two other groups out in the park with us. We heard what sounded like a group of four teenagers talking about the Zombie Apocalypse. It was sooo tempting to sneak over to try and scare them, but we didn't. With my luck, I would've stumbled across a snake or scorpion, anyway.

As the time for the total eclipse neared, we realized we weren't going to be able to see anything because of the cloud cover. (Honestly, we spent a good deal of the time kissing anyway, so we wouldn't have seen much.) During one of our snuggly moments, Future Husband turned his face towards mine, and did that uber romantic, so-hard-to-not-get-fluttery-feelings thing where he puts his palm on my cheek and his fingers in my hair. You know, that super cinematic, really whimsical move to pull my lips to his. He kissed me eagerly, and when he pulled away, told me he loved me. He dug his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a ring.

So even though we're 'Facebook Official', and we're already knee deep in wedding plans, we didn't have a ring yet. We'd meant to get one earlier, but we hadn't run across one we liked, and practical things like not being in the country or not having a paycheck had postponed its purchase.

I smiled, and slipped it on, and Future Husband kissed me again. I held my hand up to look at my ring and saw this;


So I'll post a picture of it soon, once I have some light and Future Husband isn't kissing my neck, wanting to drag me away from my laptop. ;-D

I woke twice during the night with bad coughing fits. It woke Future Husband, but thankfully, not D or G. The real silver lining, I’ve discovered, is that being sick and coughing so much has made me drop all the weight I gained on the Cruise. (I’ll blog about that later. No really, I will this time.) It was definitely the worst of the nights since I’ve been sick, coughing wise. Luckily, I’ve stopped waking up with a snot encrusted face.

Our wake up call came at 11 (checkout was at noon), and we picked it up, and just held it to the room so everyone could hear it. We all laughed at the hokey recording, and then promptly fell back asleep. G woke the other three of us 55 minutes later. We all frantically gathered up our things and packed the van back up.

And then we went to Waffle House. Glorious, delightfully trashy Waffle House. The boys all got their hashbrowns with various toppings, and I got my precious Apple Butter. My love of Vitamin AB is an ongoing joke for friends and relatives of mine. Seriously, I put it on or in everything; waffles, pancakes, oatmeal, toast... sometimes I just eat a spoonful from the jar. I freakin' love Apple Butter.

After stuffing our stomachs with far too much grease and sodium for a balanced diet (cause we normally eat so well on tour), we hopped on the freeway and started for Albuquerque. I read for a while, and drew a cartoon of myself, or rather, the nickname Future Husband has given me.

After having worked in the food service industry for a few years, (and my history with the dreaded Upper Respiratory Infections,) I’ve developed a habit of coughing into my elbow, instead of into my hand, which is far more unsanitary. FH has teased me that whenever I do this, with my black hoodie on, it makes me look like Dracula. Thus, Count Bronchula was born.

My laptop’s battery was exhausted, and I knew I would be doing the Albuquerque-to-Phoenix drive, so I climbed into the very back bench and took a little cat nap. We put in a quick stop at a McDonald's to kill some time and grab a snack, but after the people watching became monotonous (which happens pretty quickly in New Mexico), we hit the road again. I was on the phone with my parents when we rolled into town, so I stayed in the van on the phone, while the boys unloaded and shot some pool to kill time.

I went in for the show, which was pretty fun for a Monday night. They didn’t make a lot of money, or sell a ton of merch, mostly because it was loyal fans in the area showing up. But I did reconnect with someone I met ten months ago on the first tour, and her husband offered the guys a show and a place to stay next time they came through town, with a very interesting payment method (free hours of tattoo work if they played a show at his shop.)

The bar closed early, since everyone was there to see them and it was a free show. The boys waited around for their bar payout, and then we hit the road. Well, first we hit Del Taco (oh, Inferno sauce) and then we hit the road.

I lasted for about 150 miles before I realized that I had severely overestimated my recovery. I started feeling feverish, and going into coughing fits. I asked Future Husband to take over for about a hundred miles or so, while I rested my eyes for a bit. I woke up briefly when he stopped for gas (about a hundred miles later) and then again at 7:00. AM. I asked him to drive for an hour and a half and he ended up doing the bulk of the drive. What a keeper! I switched at the first opportunity we got, and finished the 70 miles to his parents’ house, where G and D dropped us off.

Within about 20 minutes, we were upstairs and asleep. Sweet, precious sleep.