I'm still exhausted from this past weekend.

Y'all, last weekend was ridiculous and it's somehow still affecting me. First off, our little XurXur started having diarrhea and it got to the point that he couldn't hold it in long enough to even get outside. He was pitiful and it was heartbreaking. Mostly because, his diarrhea was pure blood. It honestly looked like a massacre had occurred and I was tripping to say the least.

One long night with no sleep, a nine hour trip to the emergency vet, blood work, an MRI, and countless other tests later we found out.... well, not what was going on. They were able to confirm that he wasn't bleeding internally from a perforation or something like that and landed on that he had some kind of infection in his stomach/bowels. Needless to say he had to get shots, he's on antibiotics, and we're following a strict chicken and rice only diet for the time being. I'm just glad our babies are all home with us.

Also this weekend, our garage was broken into. We had no idea (our garage is not attached to our house), but our neighbor that lives behind us let us know and showed us his camera footage that had caught what was going on. It's so ridiculous to me that people feel the need to steal. Don't get me wrong, I completely understand what it's like to be hard up and have no clue how you're going to get by. Been there, done that, played in that Lifetime movie. And I don't mean to sound like a ridiculous person or anything, but come on guys, get a f*cking job and quit stealing other people's shit. It's not like you stole food. You stole D's saw, hand sanders, and tools.

Which means, and I feel very strongly about this, get a F*CKING JOB YOU F*CKING F*CK.

Lastly, Dani called me on Sunday to let me know that she wouldn't be in the office all this week. Actually, we have three people out this week and UR and I are basically Lone Rangering it until they all get their tests back for COVID-19. Thanks to Bonehead, we've all possibly been exposed on some level or another, but her family has been possibly exposed from three to four sources. So, who even knows what's going to happen or where we'll all land from here.

I write all of this to basically say, to hell with this year. NO. To hell with the last few years, because it has been a royal shitshow and the amount of ridiculousness that has been going down is unheard of and insane. I read a thing the other day in response to the news that "the latest Saharan Desert Dust Model shows the dust making its way into North Carolina this coming weekend, if current trends persist the dust appears substantial enough to dim our incoming sunlight" weather update and it has never been more true, so I'll leave you with it and call it a day....

"Awesome! I always wondered what it was like to live during the times of the Civil War, Spanish Flu, Great Depression, Civil Rights Movement, Watergate, and the Dust Bowl. Not all at once, mind you, but ya know, beggars/choosers and all."

And dude, that's exactly what all this shit feels like. Like I said, I'm exhausted.

It's FINNNNAAAAALLLLLLYYY done.

I have always loved tattoos. I don't know why, but luckily with my generation, it's never been a problem. I got my first tattoo when I was thirteen (a rose on the pelvis) and then didn't get another until I was twenty-two (the clover on my right foot). Most people think that's very strange, because people don't usually wait for a decade (or close to it) before they receive their next tattoo. They usually have another within a year or two or they never get one again.

But, not me. Because I apparently have to be strange in every aspect of my life.

I don't care what other people want to do with their bodies. If they want five million random tattoos, then more power to them. How is their body my damn business? But, I've always wanted my tattoos to have meaning to me. The rose was for Momma, the clover for a friend of mine that passed away.

In the last few months (year?), I've gotten four additional tattoos (and D recolored my clover). It all started with me getting Momma's name tattooed on me after she passed away. I know that she's always with me, but I wanted to be able to look down at my arm and see her name and know that I carry her in my heart and mind. Next came the tattoos for my pups. Three small paw prints right next to Momma, because everyone knows how much I love my furry children. The third was my friend Amy's name, that I got in honor of what would have been her thirtieth birthday. She passed away when we were nineteen and I wish we could have seen each other at this point in our lives. And finally, I got a moth on my arm with D's initials under it.

I'll most likely be adding more to the same arm (I think I'm wanting a half sleeve of meaningful tattoos.... to be determined), but for now, I'm just ecstatic that the moth is complete. Sure, it will have to be touched up here and there, but the majority of it is done. Which is a big deal for me, because I had to have it done in so many stages. Why? Because my skin wouldn't cooperate and swelled up so much that it was too painful to continue and then in other areas it rejected the ink. Not to mention, when you have the three cutest pups in all the land, they don't understand why you can't hold them or they can't jump up on you. They just see their mom and want love and attention, so needless to say, they knocked some healing ink loose here and there.

D got it done last night.... and I immediately took a shower and went to bed. Because tattoos or not, I'm still a little old man at heart. Also, I'm hoping the bit that he did heals easier than the rest of it did. *fingers crossed*

I have decided to chop all of my hair off.... again.

I've been letting my hair grow out since last years May in the thought that it would be long enough to "style" for our wedding this coming October. It seemed like a legitimate thought at the time, and to be honest, getting all of your hair chopped off is always risky, because who even knows if the hairdresser is going to f*ck it up or not.

But, as I get older, I enjoy my hair shorter. Actually, I've always switched back and forth on the length of my hair and have ranged from hair to my hips to hair just below my chin. And a couple of years ago, I had my favorite short hairstyle.

D enjoys my hair longer (maybe that's a guy thing?), but has also made the comment, "you're the one who has to deal with it and wear it, so you do whatever your little heart desires." (He knew that I was going to do whatever I want anyways).

I've been debating on this for awhile, but have always waivered, because I can't find the woman who originally gave me my favorite haircut and I was worried somebody else would f*ck up my life. Insert Dani. I was explaining all of this to her last week and she gave me the number to her hair gal. After about an hour of going back and forth, I text the woman and set up an appointment for this Thursday. And I think.... I'm just going to have her chop it all off.

I haven't told anybody about this other than Dani, and I'm just going to surprise D when he gets home on Thursday. Like, surprise honey! I chopped all of my hair off, BUT at least I didn't do it myself in the bathroom.... again! I guess we'll see if this is a good idea or not. *fingers crossed*

Remembering my Momma, the photographer.

I was looking at old blogs the other daynd in the process of that, I stumbled upon Momma's old blog. Even though she didn't have it for long (just for a few short posts in 2008!), I loved looking at it and reading her words. I also loved seeing the old pictures that she shared with people. Why she always thought and said that I was "beautiful" is beyond me, but for some reason, she was always extremely proud of me with everything in life. And, I miss that. I miss her. I can't even tell you how much I miss her. I still cry from time to time (more often than I'd like to admit) and the closer our wedding gets, the more emotional about it I become. I try to hide it the best I can, but I spend alot of time in the shower just crying, so no one knows. Shhh.

My favorite part about stumbling on her old blog though? Remembering the day that she drove me to the "old park" in my hometown (we had only lived back in TN for a couple of weeks) to take Senior pictures of me to submit to our town newspaper. I can remember the freezing cold (I was in short sleeves and a mini-skirt) and all of the laughs we shared. Not to mention, the photographer that was my mother. :)

I found my something old. ❤️

With our wedding happening in just a few months (October), I've been trying to check things off of my list at a fairly consistent rate. Luckily, I've had help with that, because who in the hell knew so much went into a f*cking wedding? I digress.

So far, we've taken care of the people that are supposed to be in the wedding (MOH, Best Man, Officiant, etc.). I think Aunt Susi is going to take the pictures and it's going to be at Aunt Poot's house. The invitations are made (#IDidThatShitMyself) and sent out. My wedding dress is hiding at Aunt Susi's (basically the only "before wedding" tradition D and I are following is the fact that he's not allowed to see my dress until I walk down the aisle) and I even got the shoes!

We're still deciding on food, but I've set up to have our cake made and delivered and got the topper for it. I even picked up some dessert plates, flatware, and napkins. Aunt Poot is looking into a tent with table and chairs to rent and she even got us the cake server and drink glasses for the big day.

We still have to get D a suit, make the table decorations (thank you, Pinterest), pick our pups outfits out, buy more plates/napkins/tablecloths/etc., pick my actual flowers out and up (and make the bouquets, boutineers, and decorations), and settle on the music. We keep going back and forth on what our first dance song should be, but I think we have it narrowed down to two, so at least that's something.

Then it will be just settling on the food and drinks (we have to have alcohol at our wedding, because duh) and getting D's family and my friends into town. Don't worry about me, I'm totally not having a nervous breakdown AT ALL. I'm fine. It's fine. WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT?!!?!

With all of that being said, Aunt Susi did remind me about the age old tradition of "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue" and while we're not going full on traditional, we did want to have a few traditions stuck in there.

Not knowing what to do, I turned to Momma, as I so often do, and found her gold baby bracelet with her name inscribed on it.

And with finding that, I also found.... my something old.

We have to have our kitchen replumbed and I'm about to lose my shit.

Last Thursday night, I was finishing up supper dishes and the water wouldn't drain out of my sink. I thought it was odd, but know these things tend to happen, so I finished up and tried to use a plunger to get it handled. When the plunger didn't work, I decided that the next day I would pick up some Drano from the store and try again.

Two bottles of Drano and countless hours later, D arrived home from work on Friday to find that I had completely disassembled our sink and was on a rampage. Bless his heart, he tried to work on it with some tools, but a "snake" you get at the hardware store only goes so far. I decided to call a plumber and they came out yesterday.

The plumber worked on the lines for a few hours and then found the problem.... our pipes leading from the wall pipe and out are corroded and now, we have to have our kitchen repiped.

Shoot. Me. Now. A different plumber is coming out today to quote me on the repiping and in all honesty, it just doesn't sound cheap and I don't like it. But, I also need to have a fully functioning kitchen. Ugh.... being an adult is hard. Y'all, wish me luck.