It's good to be back.

My husband, quite the blog follower, I've learned, asked me tonight why I "never update my blog anymore." While he laughed at my response of, "oh, I do. I just changed the URL so you can't read it," the truth is blogging takes a lot of time. At least for me. But, I must remember, like anything in life--everything in moderation. I don't need to write novel-long blog posts. Just like 15 minutes at the gym is better than nothing, just like a quick 20-minute power nap rocks more than no nap, a little blog update is better than three months of radio silence. And, while my Words with Friends games might start to suffer, consider me back into the blogosphere.

Working for the weekend.

Today was a 19-hour workday.
On a Friday.
1289.53 miles from home (according to Mapquest.)
Away from TFitch.
Away from friends.
Away from widdle Macy.

Two more days to go.

I do it, because I need to do it.
I do it without complaining (so I hope).

I do it because I hope to God I never, ever have to write this,

 Or this,

 Or this,

Or this,

Or this,

Or this,

This,

This,

Or this,

Or this.

No matter how many hours.
No matter how many weekends.
No matter how many nights away from family and friends,
I will do what I can so no one I love is lost because of this disease.

Unsportsmanlike Conduct

I found this article unfortunate--that Nebraska receiver Niles Paul was heckled by his own fans after NU's 20-13 loss to Texas last weekend.

Nebraska fans are said to be some of the best in college football--it even says so on one of the entrances of Memorial Stadium. But if you need a third-party endorsement, you'll find many. Most recently, after his victory in Lincoln, Texas head coach Mack Brown complimented Nebraska fans. Good sportsmanship is expected of those who wear the scarlet and cream, even by Bo Pelini who has better things to do than worry about his fans.

During the Texas game, TFitch and I had the pleasure of sitting in the burnt orange section. While most of the Longhorns were very nice, the guy next to me was less than. Not only was he obnoxious and drunk (spilling his scotch all over me and his neighbors to boot), he was downright rude. A few comments that I remember him shouting:

"Hey Nebraska. Your "jumbotron" is about as cool as AIDS."
"Nice stadium, Nebraska! We have high school stadiums bigger than this."
"Oh, there's 85,000 people here? I didn't know 85,000 people lived in Nebraska. I know no one makes $85,000 living in Nebraska."

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me...

Did I care he was spewing stupid, obnoxious shit? No. Trust me; none of the lame comments coming out of this one guy's mouth hurt my feelings. But it did interrupt me and distract me from watching the football game. (We watched the second half of the game at a bar, simply because I didn't want to deal with the terrible Texan.)

Let me reiterate one phrase...football game.

It's a sport, people. A sport. A recreational past time. A game, which is by definition "an activity engaged in for diversion and amusement." It's not the whole world. Newsflash: there's more to life than football. Two dear friends (MU fans whom I love dearly) emailed me this week, telling me they were sorry for my loss. My heart started racing for a minute while I figured out what they were talking about. I hadn't heard that since my aunt died. Did someone else pass away and I was the last to know?

Don't get me wrong--I love me some Husker football. I've been affectionately named "Ultimate Husker Fan" by my husband. But does football make me stoop so low as to yell petty comments to opposing fans? No. That I'd remind a player to his face his gloves were made of butter? No. Pretty sure Niles Paul was at the game too.

Remember those people on the field--the ones you're yelling at--were born in 1990. How old, and silly, does that make you feel, to yell at these kids? No one's dying out there. Life WILL go on. Contrary to popular belief, the Huskers leaving the Big 12 is not going to be the end of the world. Maybe put that energy into something a little more meaningful; maybe give that attention to your friends, family or volunteer for an organization. If we all put as much energy into the other aspects of life as we do college football, we'll all walk away with a win.

Southwest Slam Dunk

As a marketer, I'm always looking for effective ways (or non-effective ways) brands reach me. I have high expectations, which is why I was impressed with my Zappos experience last year.

Southwest just broke through the clutter with a Rapid Rewards direct mail piece. I can identify an airline's miles statement immediately, and do you know what I do with them? I don't even open them; I just rip them in half and throw them away. It's either them trying to get me to sign up for their credit card to "earn miles faster!" or some other offer I'm just not interested in. So when this piece landed in my mailbox last week, I was intrigued. It was packaged differently; not just an envelope.

When opened, a pull-out note on top thanked me for my seven years of membership and a personalized luggage tag was on the bottom. 

The piece worked for a few reasons:

1. The packaging was unique and stood out from ordinary mail/envelopes.

2. It was personalized with not only my name, but the number of years of membership.

3. Along the same lines, it was unexpected. Think of big milestones--typically the first or something ending in either a five or a zero. Seven is different. It's thoughtful. It's unique. Kind of like Southwest.

4. It's a nice piece. The luggage tag is something I'll use, and I'm normally not a branded-chotchkie kind of girl.

As marketers, we constantly talk about moving your target audience from awareness to loyalty. From drink tickets to free checked bags to unexpected and personalized customer interactions, Southwest knows how to retain passengers for life...says the girl in 16A.

Thinking of you

I've been thinking about my aunt a lot lately. It's happened the last few times I traveled to Kansas City (where I am now) since this is where I was when I received the news, and the memory of packing up and heading to Omaha in a fury is still fresh. Plus, last weekend we attended the birthday party for three of my cousin's four kids and there was an obvious void from the gathering--their nana.

In the same vein, I think about my cousins and my uncle nearly every day. I wonder how they are doing; how they are coping. We've been getting together a lot--more in the last three months than the last three years combined. Though, even when they are top of mind and I'm right next to them, I don't ask them how they are doing. To me, it's a stupid question. How the hell do you think they're doing? Their mom/wife died. So instead, I avoid it all together. I ask what's going on. I keep it light hearted. I avoid the elephant in the room.

I hate that I do that, but I do. I just don't know what to say; I never have. I know that's not an excuse and that everyone probably feels the same way. I'm going to work on it and try to find the right things to say; the right things to do. In the meantime, I hope my hugs and presence convey to them that they are always in my thoughts. The same goes to my friends who have lost parents--too many friends that have lost parents. I hope you know that you are always on my mind.

If any of my readers have been comforted or comforted others in particular ways, I'd love to know what was said/done as a sign of support.

In my next 30 years...

I remember my Facebook post last September 7 semi-vividly; I talked about fearing my thirties. And as I have my first birthday celebration tonight (thanks, Laible's) I still do hate the inevitable 3-0.

I don't know what it is, but I hate the fact I'm turning 30. Hate, hate, hate it. As a kid, I couldn't wait to be older. Be old enough to not have to wear a life jacket on the boat. Be old enough to babysit. Be old enough to drive. Be old enough to drink (like that made a difference--haha, just kidding mom). And suddenly I want it all to sllllloooooowwwww down.

I think it's a combination of things. I think I expected more out of myself at 30 than I've accomplished. I've always wanted 4 kids. I'm 0 for 4 at age 29 and 359 days. To borrow a quote, I am "pleased, but not satisfied" in my career. Don't get me wrong, I love who I work for and what I do, but the go-getter in me just pictured more by now. We live in the house that, albeit a great house, isn't the home we will make for the rest of our lives. But there's nothing we can really do about that, and it's frustrating to me at times.

I guess I dread 30 for two reasons: 

1. For not being able to identify a large list of achievements over the last, even eight years (since I graduated college)

2. Well, 30 is just a reminder of how quickly life passes by. Where does the time go?

I do know the best is yet to come and I don't look back on the last 29 years with disappointment or regret (although I do think I would have kicked ass at student council). I've been listening to to Hottie McGraw's "My Next 30 Years" for the last year now and there's a line I really like. Contrary to popular belief, although applicable, "drink a little lemonade and not so many beers; maybe I'll remember my next 30 years" is not the line I'm thinking of. Moresoe, "my next 30 years will be the best years of my life." I'm taking that to heart and will try it live it each and every day. Know why? I don't have a choice. Those 30 years are coming whether I like it or not. Better make each one count.

No Words

I've been composing a post in my head all day. I'm in the Twin Cities for the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure--one of my clients. The post was going to be titled "love what you do" and focus on how much I enjoy and value the opportunity to work with this event. I wanted to talk about how, although it's hard, long work--although we work weekends away from friends and family and it's long hours--been up since 3:25 am in fact (and that's sleeping in)--I wouldn't change my job for another job in the world. How I feel like every minute I spend working on this account is making a difference. How I want everyone to be so fulfilled in their profession. I planned to share the moving story about Steven and Gilbert--two male participants I met at the Opening Ceremony this morning. I'll still share Steven and Gilbert's story, but the post overall has taken a turn.

As part of the event's media relations' team, I have the privilege of hearing all sorts of compelling stories. Today I stumbled upon two men with bright pink beards. After simply asking one of the men, "may I ask why you are walking?" my life has been changed forever.

I posed the question to Steven, the taller one. Steven lost his wife Ruth to breast cancer three years ago. Ruth was an oncology nurse.

The irony.

Steven has been walking in the 3-Day ever since. I asked if the two gentlemen were friends. They actually met while walking in Dallas a few years ago. Steven was walking in honor of his late wife. Gilbert was walking because his wife didn't have breast cancer--and he hopes she never does.

Fast forward to this weekend, when these two grown men decide to fly from their hometowns in Dallas to the Twin Cities for a different 3-Day for the Cure experience. When these men spray paint their beards pink and walk 60 miles in the fight against breast cancer. Every time I saw Steven and Gilbert today, I smiled. Their tale warms the heart. It is sad--there was an unnecessary loss to breast cancer--but the action these two gentlemen take is incredible.

My heart is still warmed by Steven and Gilbert.
And I still love my job.
But now I am pissed, now I am upset and this is why the blog post I've been thinking about all day has been derailed.

I may be jumping to conclusions--I am waiting for verification--but I am very troubled by something I saw on Facebook. A dear friend of mine, Lizzie, was tagged in a Facebook album. The album was titled "a tribute to Kelln Zimmer." My heart sank.

I admit I don't know Kelln well. She and Lizzie were Kappa traveling consultants together and that's really the extent of our relationship. But I heard SO much about Kelln from Lizzie's traveling tales and I know we met once or twice over the years.

I also know Kelln had breast cancer.

I don't know what happened to Kelln--but I have a bad feeling that breast cancer took her life. And even if it didn't--her life was still cut too, too short and breast cancer should have NEVER been a part of it. It shouldn't be a part of anyone's life. And it still is.

It's frustrating on so many levels. It's frustrating that given all the time, energy and money put into the disease, people are still getting diagnosed. Survival rates are increasing--and that's good--but that's not enough. No one should EVER have to hear the words, "you have breast cancer."

It's frustrating personally. It's frustrating I lost my aunt to (basically) arthritis one month ago, that my grandpa had a heart attack one week ago and that my grandma has Alzheimer's. THESE are the causes I feel compelled to support since they are my reality now, yet I feel like I must support breast cancer out of the fear I or a friend or family member will be diagnosed with breast cancer. And statistics show one of us will.

In fact, I found out just yesterday that my friend's grandma has breast cancer. It's a fresh diagnosis. She sees her oncologist for the first time Monday.

It's sad.
It's maddening.
It's distracting.
It just plain sucks.

We shouldn't lose people in their 20s to breast cancer.
We shouldn't lose anyone to breast cancer.

I'll do everything I can to support this fight. I'll do everything I can to support the diseases impacting my family currently. And I hope you'll do the same.

July 22

It was business as usual July 22; in fact, it even felt like a busier than normal day at the office in Kansas City. I drafted letters to send to media contacts in Chicago in preparation for the upcoming 3-Day for the Cure. I had productive planning meetings with my team. I completed expense reports. And as afternoon neared, I was getting excited for a night out at Zona Rosa with my cousin and aunt and uncle to hear Ron Cooley (their relative on the other side) play guitar. Little did I know an email I received around 4 pm that day from my dad, with the subject line "call me ASAP," would derail the day's--and following days'--productivity.

When I called him, he was frazzled. He was looking for my mom; asked which salon she typically visited for pedicures. My grandma had called my dad and said the family had been told to go to the hospital--that my aunt had gone downhill and downhill quickly.

I was shocked. She had been diagnosed with histoplasmosis just four days before. A diagnosis was good--so I thought. We knew it was serious, but at least they knew what she had and how she could be treated. Sure, she had undergone a minor procedure that morning to explore a bile duct leak but as my mom told me via gchat, she wasn't in "imminent danger." I remember laughing at that statement. It sounded so dramatic.

After I talked with my dad and tracked down my mom at Kala Nail Salon (thank goodness for routines), the texts came in. "She's real bad. She coded," was the first. And then another, "They revived her. But they have to breathe for her." As I began to shake, I immediately packed up at the office and headed to my brother's house. I packed up my belongings to hit the road back to Omaha. He and I debated a lot. Does he go or not? Do I go or not? There had been many ups and downs in the three weeks she was in the hospital and was this simply another down. "I could use the time in the office," I remember selfishly saying; still shocked I actually debated that. Once my bro decided to go, would he ride with me and rent a car to come back to KC? After all of these trivial questions, we hit the road in two separate cars; a 180-mile brother/sister caravan.

I, on I29, kept in touch with my dad, in Methodist Hospital, for the beginning of the drive. But when TFitch called around 8 pm, asking where we were and saying that we should go straight to the hospital--that he was heading up there--I knew it was bad. I just knew and even asked TFitch that if he got bad news while we were on the road, to just not call; to wait until we arrived.

It was all I could do for the rest of the drive to not think about the situation at hand. I had gotten a new cell phone the day before which wiped out all of my friends' phone numbers. Luckily, I knew a few off the top of my head and called. I called any number I could remember just to chat and focus on something else.

When we pulled into Omaha, my brother and I talked, trying to figure out the quickest way to get to Methodist. After a three hour car ride, we were worried about minutes.

The caravan from Kansas City pulled into the almost empty parking garage and TFitch got out of the Audi and walked toward me.

"Did she die?" I asked.
"Yeah," my husband somberly told me.

After that, I remember being locked out of the hospital and having to go through the Emergency Room entrance--one of my biggest fears in life normally, the ER, but I was numb to it. I remember Dr. Tarantolo waiting by the door for my brother, husband and I to take us to join the rest of our family and telling us in his most compassionate and sympathetic voice he was sorry for our loss.

Our loss. Our loss. To the three of us, she might have only been our aunt, but she was our aunt. An integral piece to a close-knit family. And my heart continued to break for those whom had lost something even greater. A wife. A mother. A nana.

I remember the hospital resembling a maze and finally getting to the family waiting room on the intensive care floor. I remember someone tapping my mom on the shoulder to point out that we had arrived and I remember my mom sobbing and hugging me so hard that her little midget frame (hey--I need some humor too) was pulling me down. I think we stood like that for 10 minutes. I remember my aunt--whom had also traveled in from Kansas City--telling me "we didn't make it in time, either."

And then I remember the request to go join the rest of the family in my aunt's ICU room. I remember the walk down the hall, I remember the events in that room so vividly. I remember seeing my aunt's body and not even recognizing it as hers. I remember where my uncle and cousins were positioned in the room. I remember looking onto Omaha through the window on the top floor of Methodist hospital, thinking the world was carrying on as normal out there while a group of 15 were inside breaking apart.

Twelve days later, I remember July 22. I remember it as I pull out those expense reports dated 7/22 with my messy signature. I remember as I email off those letters with July 22 in the dateline. I remember as I complete my missing timesheets (a perk of advertising agency life) and I peruse my calendar to see what I did that day. I remember as planning deadlines near and the work that came to a standstill has to be picked back up.

And we'll continue to remember. Today. Tomorrow. For weeks, months and years. We'll remember the day that changed our lives forever. And we'll always remember Aunt Deanna.

To my husband

Plans would change at a moment's notice. You rolled with it.
Five adults and two tornadoes--I mean children--overtook our home.
There have been late nights and early mornings.
You picked up this person, ran that errand, dropped off that person and did it all over again, and again and again.
Most importantly, you were a shoulder to cry on and quick with a hug.

This week hasn't been easy for any of us, but you've done everything in your power to offer your support. You've embraced the hours and hours of family time, the tears and the stories--even the ones told over and over again. At many of the gatherings, I was too busy washing dishes or chasing around kids to even get to spend time with you. In fact; I don't remember the last time we went to sleep at the same time. But you have been by my side--by my family's side--throughout all of this. Thank you for being such a caring, supportive and patient person during this trying time. (The fact you want to strangle a certain person in my family--who shall remain unidentified--will be our little secret.) I love you.

Sadness

My aunt died Thursday.

She went to the hospital July 4 with a fever and vomiting that had been lingering for a few days. Her gallbladder was removed a few days later—a simple solution, so we all thought. Instead, things spiraled out of control. Her temperature would rise and fall and rise and fall. Her lungs filled with fluid—28 pounds of fluid to be exact—and her oxygen levels got dangerously low. It was one thing after the other and one day would be filled with good news, the next—bad. But we never thought it would come to this. (Ultimately her arthritis medication, Humira, shut down her immune system and wrecked havoc on her liver.)

There has been a lot of mourning since Thursday. In the hospital room that night as we held hands as a family and prayed around my deceased aunt. A few hours later as we walked into my uncle’s silent home—one typically filled with laughs and conversation. At random times throughout the weekend—when the next family member would arrive from out of town or something would trigger a memory. Monday at the mortuary upon seeing my aunt resting peacefully in her casket and witnessing her nine grandchildren seeing the same. Yesterday at her funeral when we said our final farewells. But today might be one of the hardest days yet. My cousins have returned to Kansas City and Austin; my home is now silent. There are no errands to run or plans to make; things to distract us from reality. Instead, we have to return to our lives. Return to work. Pick up where we left off. And it’s hard. Today is hard. For the first time in a week, I’m alone. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to catch up on my emails. I don’t want to make travel arrangements. I don’t want to think about selling ice cream. I don't want to clean my house. I just don’t want to. But I will. I know each day will get easier, but that’s no consolation for how heavy my heart is today.

Furniture Fun

I realize as a Nebraska native and fan of Warren B.'s that I'm supposed to ooh and aah over NFM. And that place is great. But I'm pretty obsessed with our new basement furniture from Bassett.

If you're in the market for new furniture, check it out. It's custom and not outrageously expensive. We ordered our furniture on June 12 and they said it would take 8-10 weeks. It was delivered today--less than one month later.

I highly recommend it. And if you live in Omaha, be sure TJ King is your designer! He's the bomb diggity!

Macy agrees!!

And...happy day.

My 82-year-old grandma is on Facebook.

Sad day.

Happy Friday

I love days when happiness fills the air, and today is one of those days. Not totally sure why: it’s not like a best friend is getting married or a new baby is entering the world. But the fact it’s the start of a three-day weekend, we are heading to Lake of the Ozarks AND I met up with Carrie and the girls last night for Sex and the City 2 is enough to make me smile this beautiful Friday morning.

Who’s seen SATC2? What did you think?

I loved it. Watching the flick in the awesome Fork and Screen might have contributed to the fact that I loved it so—I mean, who doesn’t like to enjoy a few Boulevards while watching a movie!?! But I did really like it, cool theater or not. Puns galore, and you know how I’m a sucker for those puns. The Abu Dhabi trip tied in fairly naturally and I was worried that would be way too forced. And most importantly, more in this movie than any other SATC episode or flick did I feel I, and my girlfriends, could relate to Carrie & Co. Don’t get me wrong—my friends and I aren’t riding camels in the desert any time soon. In this flick, the girls just seemed a little more down to earth, and that I enjoyed. Some of the chicks I went with last night enjoyed the first SATC movie better. I did not. It was depressing! Yes (SPOILER ALERT), in the end, Carrie and Big got together. But who wants to watch 90 minutes about a woman stood up on her wedding day so depressed she can’t get out of bed? Not this happy-go-lucky gal.

So, I recommend it. That said, I recommend a lot of bad movies (well, good to me, bad to others), but if you are in the mood for a fun, chick flick, SATC 2 won’t disappoint.

Or maybe when it’s on DVD I can have the entire blogosphere over to watch it on the Fitch’s new TV.

Um.
Yeah.

Lesson learned: don’t send husband TV shopping with his friend or you might end up with a television larger than your stand.

And to this I say ew.

Typo

I realize I make typos in my blog. That's pretty atypical for me in non-blog life as I have to write and proof and write and proof all day for work, but I think that's why I am a little more lenient in this space.

Typos so drive me nuts though--especially in professional settings--so when I spotted this typo in US Weekly's enewsletter this morning I had to share. Who sees it? Leave it in the comment field--let's see which readers have eagle eyes!

Follow the blogger

Do you read my blog?

Ya' know--stop by and check it out once in a while? See what words of wisdom I have to impart.

If so, why not become a follower? All the cool readers are doing it. It's very easy--simply click "follow" down and to the right of this post and you will, in no time, become an official follower of "The Honeymoon is Over." I don't haze my followers nor do I make them go through a new follower orientation. So do it. Let me know you're reading. Maybe you'll get a Christmas card out of the deal. And then you can get posts delivered right to you via Google Reader. Ooohh--maybe I'l have a giveaway for my followers. This will be so much fun!

Okay, first things first. Just go ahead and follow.

Please?

Doing what it takes

I write this post as I am sitting in bed behind a locked bedroom door.

I had great intentions of chillaxing in the basement tonight and catching up on DVRed Grey's and Desperate Housewives episodes, but it is storming quite a bit and I got scared.

I got scared.

TFitch is in Denver for a few days on business.
He's been gone 15 hours.
There's a little thunder and lightening.
And I got scared.

Which begs the question: how did I do this for a year? How did I not get "scared" when he was working in Kentucky--11 days there, three days here--for 385 days.

I did it because I had to.

I had no choice.
It was a decision we made.
Getting scared, or for that matter, mad, frustrated, sad or lonely would do nothing.
I did what it took.

Now, don't get me wrong--it wasn't roses and sunshine all the time. I had my moments. I had my breakdowns. My tears. But for the most part, I like to think I did what it took.

I will; however, admit I didn't do it alone.

My friends were fabulous, but especially Josh and Shannon with whom I would have been lost without. They truly went above and beyond the call of friendship duty. Rides, dinner dates (x 1,000,000), "Can you please come over and help me with XYZ"-requests. And the same with my parents. From watching Macy or stopping by to let her out when I couldn't get home in time, to changing porch lights at a moment's notice.

Let me not forget Macy who was excellent company.

When you have to, you do what it takes. I like to think I did. But I know I didn't do it alone.

As for tonight, I've heard great things about Hulu.

If this was a Successsories picture...

...it would say "patience."

Good finds at the Goodwill

I recently found some awesome blogs* that have inspired the thrifter/DIYer in me. So, last night I went to the Goodwill by our house to shop around.

Among my purchases--totalling $14--were:

These gems. Aren't they beautiful?

If you say yes, you are LYING! They are hideous as is--hence their temporary home at the Goodwill! But you know what they say! One person's trash is another person's treasure. Wait until I get about 18 more of these, give them a fresh coat of paint and they display the postcards we collect on vacations! I can't wait! The postcards are currently hanging on a bulletin board in our home office. YAWN! Not sure where I'll display these--might need a bookcase, and I have an idea for that!--but soon they'll be just what I had in mind. The only question now is the color! I'm thinking either white, black, gold or maybe something totally different! I'll be sure to keep you posted on how this project progresses. Our office needs some help, but it's a struggle. We're at the mercy of the electrical outlets and phone cords (Internet) and in addition to being cute, the office needs to be functioning since it is where I work. More to come, more to come.

The other gem I am most excited about (bought five things total) is the medium Wilton Armatele bowl for $4.99. It's in great shape and matches one I already had at home. This bowl retails for $39.99. A little soap and water and now my find is good as new.

Happy Friday! I have an itch to hit up some garage sales, but it's not going to be very warm in Omaha this weekend.

* Blogs include but are not limited to: Remodelholic, Domestically Speaking, My Uncommon Slice of Suburbia and more.