When Bad Shit Happens to Good People

If you’re a regular reader, you may have noticed this typically bright, shiny, sparkly and pussy filled blog has been dark for almost four weeks. And, there’s been quite a big reason for my need to crawl in a hole the size of the Grand Canyon and wallow like a beached whale on my leopard couch with my favorite fur ball Ted for the past 30 days.

Pretty much sums up my last 730 hours.

Pretty much sums up my last 730 hours.

One month ago today, I spent a sunny afternoon in an ER being examined for a violation that no one should ever experience. There’s an open investigation, so no specific details to share but it has been a life altering event that will forever change me whether I like it or not. The immediate aftermath bubbled up feelings of shame, embarrassment, disgust, disbelief and just now, I think the shock is starting to wear off.

The thing is, in the weeks, days, hours and minutes when I felt this ordeal sinking my personal ship to the depths of the Bermuda Triangle, I’ve had a paramount support system through family, friends, fur balls and fellow blogging buddies via visits, phone calls, texts, emails and old fashioned letters.

When bad shit happens to good people, folks know how to rally.

Who love me?

Who loves me?

I’m beyond lucky to have peeps that have my back – the kind of humans who give you hope when life is heavy.

The kind of dad who has to leave work early to take his grown kid to the ER and hear the things no father should have to hear on what should have been a typical Friday.

My constant hero, Dada CBXB, remained a rock solid foundation.

My constant hero, Dada CBXB, remaining a rock solid foundation.

The kind of sister who flies down from Iowa within 24 hours, leaving her three year old twins (in the fabulous care of their father) to hold my hand and help my heart.

Through thick and thin.

Through thick and thin.

The kind of mom who comes in for a week and does almost everything except wipe my ass because I don’t know how to function (except for petting Teddy, of course – that comes naturally).

A mom's love.

A mom’s love.

The kind of friends who can make any traumatic situation feel just a bit lighter.

Laughs

Laugh factory.

The kind of friends who stay up late on school nights to comfort you.

I heart you guys.

I heart you guys.

The kind of friend who reminds you that you are, in fact, a fabulous person – but you still need to wash your hair.

Telling it like it is.

Telling it like it is.

The kind of friend who secures your mini manse surroundings.

Safety first.

Safety first.

The kind of friends who rearrange their family lives to spend time with you.

Moms rule!

Moms rule!

The kind of friends who can make you smile within seconds just because they know you’re sad.

Giggles galore.

Giggles galore.

The kind of friend who comes to slumber party because it’s too hard to be alone.

Twins

Sleeping bag bound.

The kind of friend who flies to your rescue without even being asked.

BFF for reals.

BFF for reals.

The kind of friend who packs your favorite, unattainable-in-Nashville dip in his luggage to comfort feed you.

My favorite combo.

My favorite combo.

Like, seriously.

Like, seriously.

The kind of niece and nephew who can instantly console you with their hugs, even if they’re states away.

Smiles for miles.

Smiles for miles.

Princess B hug.

Princess B’s open arms.

Prince B's open arms.

Prince B’s huge hug.

The kind of fur balls who know just when to maul you.

The kind of fur ball who never leaves your side for a second – no matter what you’re doing.

Bubbles with my fave chug.

Bubbles with my fave chug.

The kind of fur ball who further reminds you why he’s your best friend and constant life companion, giving you just what you need, when you need it.

Not for a second.

The best medicine.

The kind of people in your life who worry when you appear to be growing dreads.

Sexy and I know it.

Sexy and I know it.

The kind of people who demand you shower to remove said growing dreads.

Pretty products.

Pretty products to take out the stink.

The kind of people who check in daily, wondering where the in fuck your make-up, your sparkle and your happy has gone.

Help wanted.

Help wanted.

The kind of people who will do just about anything to help you start feeling a little bit like yourself again.

There's hope yet.

Hope floats with half assed jazz hands.

Thank you to all of those people.  If you’re reading this, you’re one of them. And I love you.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

 

Weekend Winks – Auntie Style

An unexpected trip to Iowa made for a whirlwind weekend for this Nashville gal, as among other things my sister and her family were in the middle of a move.

Fun aunts are amazing

Totally hands on during the move.

My bro-in-law saw that Anderson Erickson (the best damn dairy company on the planet) took notice of my Iowa appearance and put the most delish chip dip in the world on sale (I can typically eat a carton and a bag of Lay’s potato chips in one sitting. Don’t judge.).

Dip baby, dip.

Dip baby, dip.

The best thing about traveling to Iowa is seeing my twin niece and nephew, who are obvious geniuses as they have now mastered one steep step.

Step mastered.

Little Einsteins.

While arriving in the wee hours Friday morning, we needed a little pick-me-up when the moving festivities began at 8am.

Moonshine for the move.

Who needs mimosas when you have moonshine?

All of us but one selected suitable moving shoes.

Appropriate moving heels. Cinderella style

Anything more appropriate than Cinderella glass heels on moving day?

While some of us felt like Prince B mid-move, we were able to keep our emotions in check.

Not excited.

My condolences on the changing of your diaper.

I was able to muster the energy it took to stand and point as the movers brought furniture in all afternoon.

Traffic cop.

Traffic cop.

During my breaks, I felt it necessary to ride horses with Princess B.

Ridin' ponies.

She’s wondering what the hell I’m doing on her brother’s pony.

Lunch was accompanied by whiskey and ibuprofen, keeping spirits lifted.

Lunch break.

I should pack this in my lunch every day.

Because whiskey is needed in Diet Coke when you get to do fun moving chores like dismantle a couch to fit through a doorway.

Fun times.

Of course, I stood and ordered rather than get my hands dirty.

After feeling like my index fingers were about to fall off, the move was complete and I couldn’t decide which one of the moving men I liked better.

Watching is exhausting.

Professional, polite, fun and hard-working – call this company if you find yourself in the depths of moving hell.

No one was more exhausted after the day’s activities than my dogphew, Gunner who lounged under his Gigi’s feet all evening.

Dogphew

Barking is hard work.

Another perk about Iowa is getting to see my college bestie, Whitney Lover (as she has the oldest and most worn Whitney Houston t-shirt that once was white but now appears to be a stained yellow) when she has time to slide me into her hectic schedule filled with three kids’ activies.

Everyone knows of her love for WL and she was gifted with a matching onesie for her daughter.

Much to her daughter’s dismay, she received a matching Whitney Houston onesie.

Besties

We know, we know. Best photo ever.

And I got to see her little Lady E who has the biggest blue eyes you’ve ever seen.

Lady E.

Lady E with Auntie CBXB.

While Whitney Lover and I were at the bar, we noticed that a 70-year-old was trying to remain hip and cool (or copying my style completely) as she had the exact same hue of pink under her grayish white hair.  Please refrain from telling Whitney Lover how amazing her hairstyle was that day – we heard about it every where we stopped.

Pink Lady.

WL and I agreed that it’d be best if I just ended it all now.

In between meeting WL’s neighbors and kids, we headed to her house after a few cocktails. I had arrived late, so the entire neighborhood was about 14 drinks ahead of yours truly which made getting out of a seat belt extremely difficult for one Neighbor.

How many clicks to get out of a seat belt?

How many clicks does it take to get out of a safety harness?

Texting

WL wouldn’t know as she was busy texting.

And with not one ounce of ease and after 12 minutes, we were able to slide Neighbor out of the seat belt and secure her feet firmly to the ground.

Mission accomplished

Mission accomplished.

The next morning it was time to say goodbye to my fave bebes, so I read to Prince B one last time as he sat on his throne.

Stories

His Royal Highness loves his caterpillar book.

Princess B thought she’d give brushing my hair a whirl (and thankfully left no snarls).

Hair brushing

Brushing at its best.

On the way back to Nashville, we stopped at a gas station where my thoughts of inspiring hair color for seniors around the Midwest were solidified, as I saw an 85-year-old with pink in her pixie cut.

Kill. Me. Now.

Kill. Me. Now.

Who knew I was such a trendsetter for the AARP crowd?

Lucky me.

CBXB

CBXB!