Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Juan-ton-a-mo
Hello my little angels. I wanted to keep you up-to-date on our dealings with a little thing called cancer. For those of you who don't know, my poppa, John, (or Juan, or Papa Juan, or Juan-ton, or Juan-ton-a-mo, or whatever other nickname my sister comes up with) has cancer. So here's a little timeline.
Fall 2009 - John begins feeling numbness, tightening, and pain in his chest and back muscles. Like cry-for-your-mom kind-of pain. Doctors have no clue. This continues for almost a year.
Late Spring 2010 - Diagnosis is a Pulmonary Lymphomatoid Granulomatosis (which we've not-so-affectionately dubbed PLG), an incredibly rare form of Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma (a cancer of the blood). Tumors appear on both lungs which are removed. Who needs tattoos when you're rocking scars like that. Chemo treatment begins. Prognosis is good.
January 2011 - Cancer is gone? What? Rock on. Diagnosis is remission and we all breathe a sigh of relief.
February 2011 - Double vision. Trouble with coordination. Not being able to feel hands or feet. Back to the doctor. Cancer is back. WTF? Although the PLG has been extinguished, cancer appeared in the brain. Can't operate because it's in the brain stem. Close your fist around a penny and then try to get that penny out without touching your hand. Impossible. Prognosis is iffy. Radiation is out of the question. No one wants to melt their brain. So chemo begins again with first rounds successful in reducing size.
Summer 2011 - Tumor is gone? What? Rock on. We all breathe another sigh of relief.
Fall 2011 - Tumor is back? WTF? Are you fucking kidding us? A followup MRI reveals that the tumor has returned in force. This is starting to get really really old. Start chemo again. A bad ass combination called Methatrexate that can be given in 8 rounds. No one has ever had it past 6. John rocks the 6 rounds.
Spring 2012 - Tumor is gone. A "mere wisp" on the MRI. We thank our lucky stars and God and Buddha and Stonehenge.
Summer 2012 - God-damn mother-fucking tumor is back. WHAT THE FUCK? Really?!? REALLY?!? This roller coaster ride has never been fun and its starting to make us sick. The doctors at this point have no clue how to proceed. Prognosis is bleak. I mean - really really bleak. Like start-thinking-about-the-end kind of bleak.
October 2012 - We, especially my dad, are not ready to give up. Second opinion at Sloan-Kettering in New York City. Best doctor in the world confirms diagnosis of some type of cancer (we still really have no clue what it is). Doctors are still stumped how to treat and really have only one option left. Back to Methatrexate. It's never been given in second series. They tell us he'll be lucky to see Thanksgiving.
November 9, 2012 - It's a Friday and my sister and I are driving to Minneapolis for our pseudo-sister's bachelorette party. We receive a phone call. It's my dad. In tears. The man doesn't cry. And he tells me this could very well be his last weekend on earth. That he's opted to go with the Methatrexate even though it could kill him in a few days. That he would never let cancer take him without a fight. That he would go down swinging. And my heart stops and the world falls out from under my feet. We turn around and go home because there's only one place in the world we want to be. Laughing and dancing and cooking and living with our dad.
November 12, 2012 - Treatment begins. And we wait on pins and needles and bite our nails and cry and pray and drink and laugh and cry some more and pace. Some of us get tattoos. Well. That would have been me.
November 17, 2012 - He made it through. How? We don't know. But we thank our lucky stars and God and Buddha and Stonehenge.
Winter 2012 - Spring 2013 - Methatrexate treatments continue and John is a rockstar throughout it all. A few scary moments, but he's still working full-time and life is going on.
Last Week - April 23, 2013 - The tumor is gone. GONE! Although we'll go ahead and be proactive and continue treatments, he's made it. Again. I hate to hold my breath, but if we've learned anything throughout this, it's that nothing is certain. But his coordination is returning and he's going to the gym and he's working and it looks like my pop will be around for his grandbabies. And I want to thank God with everything I am that this story has turned out this way.
God only gives us what we can handle. Trust me, there were times when we thought he was just being a bully. How could he do this? How could we deal with any more? But, I've learned so much through this. I think we all have. Life is short and beautiful and tragic and fragile and sweet. To take even a moment for granted is to waste it. I don't worry about five years from now. I plan for it, but don't worry about it anymore. I have today. That's the best I get. And today, even though its raining and storming and a bit muggy, is beautiful. Because I have my daddy.
All my love,
Ali
I seem to have a thing for leaving a video for you all, so I'll leave you this one. Love.
Fall 2009 - John begins feeling numbness, tightening, and pain in his chest and back muscles. Like cry-for-your-mom kind-of pain. Doctors have no clue. This continues for almost a year.
Late Spring 2010 - Diagnosis is a Pulmonary Lymphomatoid Granulomatosis (which we've not-so-affectionately dubbed PLG), an incredibly rare form of Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma (a cancer of the blood). Tumors appear on both lungs which are removed. Who needs tattoos when you're rocking scars like that. Chemo treatment begins. Prognosis is good.
January 2011 - Cancer is gone? What? Rock on. Diagnosis is remission and we all breathe a sigh of relief.
February 2011 - Double vision. Trouble with coordination. Not being able to feel hands or feet. Back to the doctor. Cancer is back. WTF? Although the PLG has been extinguished, cancer appeared in the brain. Can't operate because it's in the brain stem. Close your fist around a penny and then try to get that penny out without touching your hand. Impossible. Prognosis is iffy. Radiation is out of the question. No one wants to melt their brain. So chemo begins again with first rounds successful in reducing size.
Summer 2011 - Tumor is gone? What? Rock on. We all breathe another sigh of relief.
Fall 2011 - Tumor is back? WTF? Are you fucking kidding us? A followup MRI reveals that the tumor has returned in force. This is starting to get really really old. Start chemo again. A bad ass combination called Methatrexate that can be given in 8 rounds. No one has ever had it past 6. John rocks the 6 rounds.
Spring 2012 - Tumor is gone. A "mere wisp" on the MRI. We thank our lucky stars and God and Buddha and Stonehenge.
Summer 2012 - God-damn mother-fucking tumor is back. WHAT THE FUCK? Really?!? REALLY?!? This roller coaster ride has never been fun and its starting to make us sick. The doctors at this point have no clue how to proceed. Prognosis is bleak. I mean - really really bleak. Like start-thinking-about-the-end kind of bleak.
October 2012 - We, especially my dad, are not ready to give up. Second opinion at Sloan-Kettering in New York City. Best doctor in the world confirms diagnosis of some type of cancer (we still really have no clue what it is). Doctors are still stumped how to treat and really have only one option left. Back to Methatrexate. It's never been given in second series. They tell us he'll be lucky to see Thanksgiving.
November 9, 2012 - It's a Friday and my sister and I are driving to Minneapolis for our pseudo-sister's bachelorette party. We receive a phone call. It's my dad. In tears. The man doesn't cry. And he tells me this could very well be his last weekend on earth. That he's opted to go with the Methatrexate even though it could kill him in a few days. That he would never let cancer take him without a fight. That he would go down swinging. And my heart stops and the world falls out from under my feet. We turn around and go home because there's only one place in the world we want to be. Laughing and dancing and cooking and living with our dad.
November 12, 2012 - Treatment begins. And we wait on pins and needles and bite our nails and cry and pray and drink and laugh and cry some more and pace. Some of us get tattoos. Well. That would have been me.
November 17, 2012 - He made it through. How? We don't know. But we thank our lucky stars and God and Buddha and Stonehenge.
Winter 2012 - Spring 2013 - Methatrexate treatments continue and John is a rockstar throughout it all. A few scary moments, but he's still working full-time and life is going on.
Last Week - April 23, 2013 - The tumor is gone. GONE! Although we'll go ahead and be proactive and continue treatments, he's made it. Again. I hate to hold my breath, but if we've learned anything throughout this, it's that nothing is certain. But his coordination is returning and he's going to the gym and he's working and it looks like my pop will be around for his grandbabies. And I want to thank God with everything I am that this story has turned out this way.
God only gives us what we can handle. Trust me, there were times when we thought he was just being a bully. How could he do this? How could we deal with any more? But, I've learned so much through this. I think we all have. Life is short and beautiful and tragic and fragile and sweet. To take even a moment for granted is to waste it. I don't worry about five years from now. I plan for it, but don't worry about it anymore. I have today. That's the best I get. And today, even though its raining and storming and a bit muggy, is beautiful. Because I have my daddy.
All my love,
Ali
I seem to have a thing for leaving a video for you all, so I'll leave you this one. Love.
First Dates and New Friends
So one of my biggest fears about moving down here was that I would be crazy lonely. Like-sitting-in-my-apartment, talking-to-the-dog, while-drowning-my-sorrows-in-cheap-wine kind of lonely. So when I wished my mom and sister a safe flight and drove sadly away from the airport, I was pretty scared. A new city where I knew no one and now that my two buffers from that reality had left, I was facing the city alone. But my darlings, don't worry for me. As most of you know, I can have a lively conversation with a brick wall and crave social interaction, so it didn't take long for me to settle in and meet some amazing folks.
That Friday, I went on my first first date in the city - and my first first date in a long ass time. It's hard to date back in Marshfield. Love you guys, but not necessarily the easiest place for a single chick. But that's been the only first date I've had, because the dude I met is pretty awesome and we're now going steady (cue the "awww"). Now I'm sure you have some questions, so I'll fill you in a bit. I mean, who doesn't love to hear the details of awkward first dates and meeting boys.
First off, who is this dude?
Well my little darlings, his name is Ryan and he was born and raised here in Louisiana near New Orleans in a town called Slidell. He works at Charter during the day and rocks the guitar at night (which he's been playing for 20-some years). He's an only child and close with his family (I've met the parents and I can vouch that they are pretty awesome). He has a two-year-old little boy named Baylen who is the most gosh-darn-cutest little guy in the world. He rocks out in a band called Lying in Wait - a little metal for me, but pretty great none-the-less. He has tattoos and looks like a badass but may be one of the sweetest guys I've ever met.
Ok then, sounds legit. How'd you meet?
Match.com. Yep. An internet dating website. And no. I'm not really embarassed by that. I mean, think about it. When you meet someone traditionally, you're probably in a) a bar, b) at work, or c) through friends. You typically don't know too much about them or what you have in common, so you have to go on a few dates before you get to really know someone, although you know that the chemistry is there. Well Match.com is a little reversed. You chat with someone so you already know you have stuff in common with (hence the title...match) and get to know them BEFORE you meet. You find out if you have chemistry at the first date. It's not like you sit there and date online and never meet in person. And yes, loves, there are creepers out there. I think I told Ryan at that first date that I was happy he didn't turn out to be a creeper and was who his profile said he was. It could have been sketch.
Alright. Where'd ya go? What'd ya do?
We met in the French Quarter. Ryan was supposed to meet me at Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop just a few blocks up from my place, but he got a little turned around and couldn't figure out which way the street was. So, he called, and I happened to be walking the same way, just one block over. So I told him to turn down the street and meet me on the corner. "Not like a hooker-on-the-corner, but just on the corner" I said. And then I saw the bubbles. Floating down from a balcony above and I giggled like a little kid. "Follow the bubbles" I instructed. And there he found me, under the bubbles. I freaking love bubbles! So after we met and did that awkward first meet hug, we wandered the Quarter talking for a long long time. And it was great. Really. A really really great first date. Obviously, because here we are a month later.
So yeah. Love life = check. On to some of the amazing friends I've made. Alexandra and Robbie top that list. A couple from Michigan and good friends of Ryan, I fell in love with those two creeps immediately. We were just three yankees and we love to talk about cheese and corn fields and Big Ten football. I'm actually headed there later today to use their washer/dryer to clean my shoes. Apparently they have a special contraption just for washing shoes and Robbie is really excited for me to try it out. But don't worry - I'll bring them pizza too. Trading laundry for pizza. Pretty good deal in my book.
So darlings, that's where I'm at in the social department. Not crying in a little ball in my apartment while the dog stares at me puzzled.
All my love,
Ali
I'll leave you with this Friends clip where Joey gets his head stuck in a turkey. If this doesn't make you laugh, then you have no soul.
That Friday, I went on my first first date in the city - and my first first date in a long ass time. It's hard to date back in Marshfield. Love you guys, but not necessarily the easiest place for a single chick. But that's been the only first date I've had, because the dude I met is pretty awesome and we're now going steady (cue the "awww"). Now I'm sure you have some questions, so I'll fill you in a bit. I mean, who doesn't love to hear the details of awkward first dates and meeting boys.
First off, who is this dude?
Well my little darlings, his name is Ryan and he was born and raised here in Louisiana near New Orleans in a town called Slidell. He works at Charter during the day and rocks the guitar at night (which he's been playing for 20-some years). He's an only child and close with his family (I've met the parents and I can vouch that they are pretty awesome). He has a two-year-old little boy named Baylen who is the most gosh-darn-cutest little guy in the world. He rocks out in a band called Lying in Wait - a little metal for me, but pretty great none-the-less. He has tattoos and looks like a badass but may be one of the sweetest guys I've ever met.
Ok then, sounds legit. How'd you meet?
Match.com. Yep. An internet dating website. And no. I'm not really embarassed by that. I mean, think about it. When you meet someone traditionally, you're probably in a) a bar, b) at work, or c) through friends. You typically don't know too much about them or what you have in common, so you have to go on a few dates before you get to really know someone, although you know that the chemistry is there. Well Match.com is a little reversed. You chat with someone so you already know you have stuff in common with (hence the title...match) and get to know them BEFORE you meet. You find out if you have chemistry at the first date. It's not like you sit there and date online and never meet in person. And yes, loves, there are creepers out there. I think I told Ryan at that first date that I was happy he didn't turn out to be a creeper and was who his profile said he was. It could have been sketch.
Alright. Where'd ya go? What'd ya do?
We met in the French Quarter. Ryan was supposed to meet me at Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop just a few blocks up from my place, but he got a little turned around and couldn't figure out which way the street was. So, he called, and I happened to be walking the same way, just one block over. So I told him to turn down the street and meet me on the corner. "Not like a hooker-on-the-corner, but just on the corner" I said. And then I saw the bubbles. Floating down from a balcony above and I giggled like a little kid. "Follow the bubbles" I instructed. And there he found me, under the bubbles. I freaking love bubbles! So after we met and did that awkward first meet hug, we wandered the Quarter talking for a long long time. And it was great. Really. A really really great first date. Obviously, because here we are a month later.
So yeah. Love life = check. On to some of the amazing friends I've made. Alexandra and Robbie top that list. A couple from Michigan and good friends of Ryan, I fell in love with those two creeps immediately. We were just three yankees and we love to talk about cheese and corn fields and Big Ten football. I'm actually headed there later today to use their washer/dryer to clean my shoes. Apparently they have a special contraption just for washing shoes and Robbie is really excited for me to try it out. But don't worry - I'll bring them pizza too. Trading laundry for pizza. Pretty good deal in my book.
So darlings, that's where I'm at in the social department. Not crying in a little ball in my apartment while the dog stares at me puzzled.
All my love,
Ali
I'll leave you with this Friends clip where Joey gets his head stuck in a turkey. If this doesn't make you laugh, then you have no soul.
Monday, April 29, 2013
My Balcony Gang
So the most important part of my apartment, besides the bathroom, is the balcony! I am in L-O-V-E with my baloney. WTF? Not baloney. Stupid auto-correct. Balcony!
So get ready to meet the many members of my balcony gang...but don't worry. They're not mean gang members. They won't cut you or anything.
Up first is....MR. PEACOCK! This lovely addition is courtesy of my sister who saw it sitting in Target. Looking lonely and abandoned among the lawn chairs and garden gnomes, this peacock needed a home. A place where the wind could blow and makes it cute little head bob up and down. It truly is a magical thing to behold. Born in China, Mr. Peacock now stands proud while keeping the flowers in line.
Next up...MRS. MERMAID-FLAG! I discovered her on a venture down to the local liquor store for booze and cigarettes. Yep - I'm classy like that. I spotted her perched high on the wall of the t-shirt shop and she now hangs proudly from the upper balcony...calling to pirates and revelers and small children. Born in Thailand, Mrs. Mermaid-Flag adds just the perfect touch of tacky to my home.
MR. BUBBLES is the showstopper. This bad boy lights up peoples' days. I've never seen so many grown ups stop and chase a bubble or two. Everyone smiles and looks around for the source of bubbles. Most people enjoy it. Except for the lady that owns the Smart car. Who doesn't like bubbles? Whatevs - we won't get into that. The bubble-maker was a gift from my new friends, Alex and Robbie, who after hearing the story of my and Ryan's first date and then hearing how much I love bubbles, thought it would be perfect. The first date story goes as follows: Ryan got lost and as I was on the phone trying to give him directions, I noticed a shit-ton of bubbles and giggled like a little kid. Seriously - I'm kind of surprised he still wanted to meet me. But, luckily, he did, and he found me under the bubbles. A somewhat ridiculous story, but the inspiration for the bubble-maker.
The flowers round out the group...
On to the HIBISCUS. Known fondly to the rest of the group as the Peach Twins, these guys grace the corners of the balcony. Although their blooms last only a few days, they have taught me a lesson in resilience. You can't hold them down. They will bloom again. Bad ass hibi's. Plus, they are Miss Mary Jane's favorite flower...that little dog will sniff and sniff and sniff them. I think it's like crack for her. We may have to stage an intervention at some point.
Then we have the ANNUALS - Miss Pomegranate Punch and Ms. Blackberry Punch, sisters by nature but unique in their own right. They were supposed to live in the window baskets, but after being fearful that they would fall, were relocated to their current home on the floor of the balcony. From here, they grow out through the railings and help the climbing flower seeds grow to their true potential. Thanks Em for the climbers...those little guys are making their way in this big world.
The IXORAs are next. These coral/red exotic beauties came to us from Home Depot. Although it took me 30 minutes driving around to find the damn entrance to the parking lot, it was well worth it when I caught a look at these gals. Relaxed and whimsical, the Ixora's are the stoners of the group. Damn hippies.
And let's not forget about the BOUGAINVILLEA. This sassy little number is making my life hell. The blooms come and go and I can't seem to figure out if it's dying or just being a pain in the ass. Alas, there's always one black sheep in the group. It probably doesn't help that I was mispronouncing its name for the longest time...Borgenia, Borgia...I still have no idea how to say it. So this girl needs to shape up or may find herself trying to grow in the garbage can.
MR. and MRS. PETUNIA are next. These guys came to me from an amazing nursery called Urban Roots near Mary Jane's doggy daycare. Not only are the ladies who work at this place extremely helpful and informed, but the plants are frigging beautiful. So I found these huge baskets and knew immediately they were meant to sway in the breeze on my balcony. So far, they seem to have thrived in the sun, although dead-heading them (removing the dead buds) has been a royal pain in the ass.
Now hurry up and buy a plane ticket so you can enjoy a glass of wine with me on the balcony!
All my love,
Ali
So get ready to meet the many members of my balcony gang...but don't worry. They're not mean gang members. They won't cut you or anything.
Up first is....MR. PEACOCK! This lovely addition is courtesy of my sister who saw it sitting in Target. Looking lonely and abandoned among the lawn chairs and garden gnomes, this peacock needed a home. A place where the wind could blow and makes it cute little head bob up and down. It truly is a magical thing to behold. Born in China, Mr. Peacock now stands proud while keeping the flowers in line.
Next up...MRS. MERMAID-FLAG! I discovered her on a venture down to the local liquor store for booze and cigarettes. Yep - I'm classy like that. I spotted her perched high on the wall of the t-shirt shop and she now hangs proudly from the upper balcony...calling to pirates and revelers and small children. Born in Thailand, Mrs. Mermaid-Flag adds just the perfect touch of tacky to my home.
MR. BUBBLES is the showstopper. This bad boy lights up peoples' days. I've never seen so many grown ups stop and chase a bubble or two. Everyone smiles and looks around for the source of bubbles. Most people enjoy it. Except for the lady that owns the Smart car. Who doesn't like bubbles? Whatevs - we won't get into that. The bubble-maker was a gift from my new friends, Alex and Robbie, who after hearing the story of my and Ryan's first date and then hearing how much I love bubbles, thought it would be perfect. The first date story goes as follows: Ryan got lost and as I was on the phone trying to give him directions, I noticed a shit-ton of bubbles and giggled like a little kid. Seriously - I'm kind of surprised he still wanted to meet me. But, luckily, he did, and he found me under the bubbles. A somewhat ridiculous story, but the inspiration for the bubble-maker.
The flowers round out the group...
On to the HIBISCUS. Known fondly to the rest of the group as the Peach Twins, these guys grace the corners of the balcony. Although their blooms last only a few days, they have taught me a lesson in resilience. You can't hold them down. They will bloom again. Bad ass hibi's. Plus, they are Miss Mary Jane's favorite flower...that little dog will sniff and sniff and sniff them. I think it's like crack for her. We may have to stage an intervention at some point.
Then we have the ANNUALS - Miss Pomegranate Punch and Ms. Blackberry Punch, sisters by nature but unique in their own right. They were supposed to live in the window baskets, but after being fearful that they would fall, were relocated to their current home on the floor of the balcony. From here, they grow out through the railings and help the climbing flower seeds grow to their true potential. Thanks Em for the climbers...those little guys are making their way in this big world.
The IXORAs are next. These coral/red exotic beauties came to us from Home Depot. Although it took me 30 minutes driving around to find the damn entrance to the parking lot, it was well worth it when I caught a look at these gals. Relaxed and whimsical, the Ixora's are the stoners of the group. Damn hippies.
And let's not forget about the BOUGAINVILLEA. This sassy little number is making my life hell. The blooms come and go and I can't seem to figure out if it's dying or just being a pain in the ass. Alas, there's always one black sheep in the group. It probably doesn't help that I was mispronouncing its name for the longest time...Borgenia, Borgia...I still have no idea how to say it. So this girl needs to shape up or may find herself trying to grow in the garbage can.
MR. and MRS. PETUNIA are next. These guys came to me from an amazing nursery called Urban Roots near Mary Jane's doggy daycare. Not only are the ladies who work at this place extremely helpful and informed, but the plants are frigging beautiful. So I found these huge baskets and knew immediately they were meant to sway in the breeze on my balcony. So far, they seem to have thrived in the sun, although dead-heading them (removing the dead buds) has been a royal pain in the ass.
Now hurry up and buy a plane ticket so you can enjoy a glass of wine with me on the balcony!
All my love,
Ali
I get an F for consistency and timeliness.
Oh, my loves. I've neglected you for far too long. I apologize with all of my heart about waiting 18 days to blog again. 18 days. Shit. I suck. Really. One of the many things I'm terrible at. Right up there with doing laundry. It's not that I don't know how to do laundry...that I can handle. It's actually physically doing the laundry. I'm the girl that buys new underwear instead of throwing in a load of clothes. So blogging timeliness and laundry = Alison fail.
But, no worries my little darlings. I'm feeling inspired today which means that you get to hear all about my many wonderful adventures over the past 18 days! Yay. I know. I know. Settle down. It's hard to read when you're jumping around with excitement. So prepare yourself. Find a bottle of wine or beer or whiskey or Pucker and make yourself comfy. You are in for a real treat.
XOXO (but not open mouth kisses ...just cute-little-pecks-on-the-cheek kind-of kisses)
Ali
But, no worries my little darlings. I'm feeling inspired today which means that you get to hear all about my many wonderful adventures over the past 18 days! Yay. I know. I know. Settle down. It's hard to read when you're jumping around with excitement. So prepare yourself. Find a bottle of wine or beer or whiskey or Pucker and make yourself comfy. You are in for a real treat.
XOXO (but not open mouth kisses ...just cute-little-pecks-on-the-cheek kind-of kisses)
Ali
Friday, April 12, 2013
A tad more serious...
On a more serious note, the sun won't shine as bright today because there's a beautiful baby boy going through the fight of his life. Please keep Treyden in your thoughts and prayers. Cassie and Travis - I could never imagine what you're going through. It brings tears to my eyes and makes my heart break. Life really is not fair. But I hope you have faith that everything happens for a reason, even if this makes no damn sense and God seems like kind-of a bully on this one. I'll have that sweet little boy in my thoughts and prayers.
Some excerpts from Cassie's updates from yesterday, April 11:
One of the hardest posts I have written so far... Travis went down for his collection of cells today and the dr informed him that treyden would not be getting the procedure because his leukemia was out of control and he only has a matter of days ...
Dr McManus told me that there is a good chance that this will not work or with the virus that treyden has in his blood could take over his body and take his life... He told us to consider our options and to let him know... There was no considering we just can't give up... We cried all morning and through the airport this is not happening....
We aren't there yet we are continuing to fight please dear god do not do this to my family do not take our world away from us....
Some excerpts from Cassie's updates from yesterday, April 11:
One of the hardest posts I have written so far... Travis went down for his collection of cells today and the dr informed him that treyden would not be getting the procedure because his leukemia was out of control and he only has a matter of days ...
Dr McManus told me that there is a good chance that this will not work or with the virus that treyden has in his blood could take over his body and take his life... He told us to consider our options and to let him know... There was no considering we just can't give up... We cried all morning and through the airport this is not happening....
We aren't there yet we are continuing to fight please dear god do not do this to my family do not take our world away from us....
This beautiful video is courtesy Jenna Beach Photography.
It's hard to be witty and quippy and sassy knowing what they're going through now and in the days and years ahead. No amount of words or quotes or advice will ever be enough and I'm not that good of a writer to even try to convey how incredibly sorry I am that they even have to go through this. The best I got is to take it one day at a time. One short sweet beautiful tragic day at a time.
All my love,
Ali
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Siblings Day? Is that real?
So, because I'm semi-obsessed with my Facebook news feed, I couldn't help but notice all of the Siblings' Day posts. I have no idea if it's real or if it was today or yesterday. SO, loves, I've provided you some very reliable information via Wikipedia. If it's on Wikipedia - it has to be real.
Siblings Day (sometimes called National Siblings Day) is a annual American celebration held on April 10th of each year[1] to honor the relationships of siblings. It is not federally recognized, unlike Mother's Day and Father's Day, although this is the stated goal of the Siblings Day Foundation.[2] Since 1998, 39 state's Governors have officially established Siblings Day in their state.[3]
So, in honor of this little holiday, enjoy some treats about some of my favorite people in the world. And this has only something to do with New Orleans in the fact that I live here and they don't and I miss them all like a fat kid misses cake at fat camp!
First, there's B-RIAN! What up bro. My big brother is 11 years older than me which makes him turning 40! Ha - how many gray hairs now, bud? Just kidding. But kind of serious. Just for Men? Does that shit work? Okay. Now that I've royally pissed Mr. Brian Olson off, I'll continue.
Brian James was born in August of 1973. Growing up, he had dreams of being a race car driver. But after realizing that Momma Jo was never going to let him race cars, he switched his career goals to medicine. He's now a CT Tech (for those of you who are medically retarded like me, that means that he presses a button on a big machine that takes pictures of your insides or something like that). He is married to a beautiful, sweet, sometimes OCD girl named Laura (oh La-La - love you so much darling!) and they have the two sweetest sassiest little ones you could ever imagine. Brian taught me how to break dance and let me watch MTV when they actually played music videos (love me some Mr. Big...and now that song is stuck in my head. You know it, don't you? "...just to be the next to be with you..." Yep, you're welcome).
When Brian was little, he ran around the coffee table with saran wrap emulating his favorite scene in the movie Grease where they sing about fixing the car.
He sprained my ankle when chasing my sister around the house - seriously BJ - I was trying to clean the f-ing windows! He took me "cruising" with my friends because we were so cool! I got him in trouble, we fought, we laughed. He's one of my best friends and I couldn't ask for a better male influence in my life. He wears his heart on his sleeve and likes to scowl when he's mad. He's my big brother. Always and forever. Love you B!
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Now on to Miss Katherine Ann. My baby sister. My very skinny, beautiful, girl-I-love-to-hate because she's so damn trendy and cute. Oh - the stories I could tell about this little one.
Kate or Katie or Katherine or Kathy was born in October of 1986. She was the shyest, most quiet, most timid little thing. Seriously. You would never know it now. Katie had dreams of becoming Hispanic like her idol, Selena, and mixing drinks on the beach ala Tom Cruise in Cocktail and meeting her prince charming like Sleeping Beauty (which she would watch, rewind, watch again, rewind, watch yet again all the live long day). Although we told her it was a physical impossibility to become Hispanic - dude, you're a white girl with blondish hair and blue eyes - she paid no heed. Sorry dude - that dream will never come true. She did in fact bartend while in college, where she earned a bachelor's degree from UW-La Crosse in FOUR majors - International Business, Marketing, Economics, and Spanish. Hey - she at least has the Spanish part of her Selena dream down. Now she works for the same company as me and is a little rock star. She definitely takes after her big sister in that aspect. And she's met her Prince Charming...although thankfully he didn't have to battle any dragons or a sleeping spell to win her heart. Love you Cam-Cam!
Katie is by far my favorite person in the entire world. She knows everything about me - the good, the bad, and the ugly. She has blackmail on me for the rest of my life. But I wouldn't have it any other way. We played Barbies and built forts and fought (that's a common theme with my siblings). We laughed and drank and sang and danced. I'm forever in the debt of whatever God is above for giving me the chance to grow up and now grow old with this little gem. Kate. Love you. So proud of you. And couldn't ask for anyone better in my life.
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Siblings Day (sometimes called National Siblings Day) is a annual American celebration held on April 10th of each year[1] to honor the relationships of siblings. It is not federally recognized, unlike Mother's Day and Father's Day, although this is the stated goal of the Siblings Day Foundation.[2] Since 1998, 39 state's Governors have officially established Siblings Day in their state.[3]
So, in honor of this little holiday, enjoy some treats about some of my favorite people in the world. And this has only something to do with New Orleans in the fact that I live here and they don't and I miss them all like a fat kid misses cake at fat camp!
A little Mr. Big action...
When Brian was little, he ran around the coffee table with saran wrap emulating his favorite scene in the movie Grease where they sing about fixing the car.
Greased Lightening...
He sprained my ankle when chasing my sister around the house - seriously BJ - I was trying to clean the f-ing windows! He took me "cruising" with my friends because we were so cool! I got him in trouble, we fought, we laughed. He's one of my best friends and I couldn't ask for a better male influence in my life. He wears his heart on his sleeve and likes to scowl when he's mad. He's my big brother. Always and forever. Love you B!
----------------------
Now on to Miss Katherine Ann. My baby sister. My very skinny, beautiful, girl-I-love-to-hate because she's so damn trendy and cute. Oh - the stories I could tell about this little one.
Selena - Dreaming of You (Can you see the resemblance?)
Oh. Sleeping Beauty...
Katie is by far my favorite person in the entire world. She knows everything about me - the good, the bad, and the ugly. She has blackmail on me for the rest of my life. But I wouldn't have it any other way. We played Barbies and built forts and fought (that's a common theme with my siblings). We laughed and drank and sang and danced. I'm forever in the debt of whatever God is above for giving me the chance to grow up and now grow old with this little gem. Kate. Love you. So proud of you. And couldn't ask for anyone better in my life.
----------------------
There are so many others in my life that I consider my family. My best friends, Cooper and Tanya, chose to be a part of my crazy life. And they're still here. Through a lot of drama. We've had so many good times and bad times and drunk times. From the Ouiji board in junior high to parties and toilet-papering in high school to bars and darts at house parties in college...you are the sisters that God forgot to give me.
And then there's Katy. The other Katy. My sassy, opinionated, fabulous adopted little sister who I used to love-to-hate. We stole each others' clothes and screamed through bathroom doors at each other. We've spent birthdays together. We've laughed and cried and I've kept you from slapping dudes at the bar. You are feisty and amazing and I can't help but thank fate for bringing you into my life 18 years ago. Although it's bittersweet, I'm so proud that you've chosen me to be your adopted big sister.
Oh. My Laura. Little la-la. You became my sister way before you ever married my brother. I knew you were it when you dragged me into the bar and tied a condom (thank god, not used - eww) into my hair and you rode in a car seat in the back of the truck. You are sweet and a bad ass and I will forever remember having the headaches of our lives that one Easter from head-banging the night before. You are my favorite rock-star and little momma and those babies are so lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you.
Last, but most definitely, not least is Mr. Cameron. My baby sister's knight in shining snowboard pants and chick sunglasses. The dude that I had the pleasure of living with for 18 months. This kid is pretty bad ass. You know it too Camelot. Cam, you have the biggest heart, the coolest style, and you are an amazing addition to our family. From holding my hand while snowboarding to testing my rum and cokes to martinis and blues bands at the Thomas House, I can honestly say that you have become my brother. And I couldn't have picked someone more perfect, not only for Katie, but for our family.
----------------------------------------------------
Much love.
Ali
Change in Format
Hello loves.
I've decided to change the format of the blog. I was going to go day-by-day but honestly, during the day, I work at my apartment and not that many cool things happen. So, rather than getting a super-boring account of "sat on my balcony and wrote some reports for work then got a gyro and watched Game of Thrones" type shit, I thought I'll post when creativity sparks - or when super randomness happens. This may be multiple times a day or I may go a couple days between posts. See what I'm doing there. Creating suspense. Keeping ya on your toes. Maybe I am a better writer than I thought. Tom Clancy has nothing on this bitch!
Anywho. Keep your eyes peeled for new blog posts - I'll link them to Facebook for those of you who are my Facebook friends. For those of you who are not, you'll just have to keep checking the blog.
Watch out now! I tried to figure out how to type that in the way I was saying it, but I couldn't figure it out so instead check out the super cheese-tastic gangsta-riffic Beatnuts video for "Watch Out Now".
I've decided to change the format of the blog. I was going to go day-by-day but honestly, during the day, I work at my apartment and not that many cool things happen. So, rather than getting a super-boring account of "sat on my balcony and wrote some reports for work then got a gyro and watched Game of Thrones" type shit, I thought I'll post when creativity sparks - or when super randomness happens. This may be multiple times a day or I may go a couple days between posts. See what I'm doing there. Creating suspense. Keeping ya on your toes. Maybe I am a better writer than I thought. Tom Clancy has nothing on this bitch!
Anywho. Keep your eyes peeled for new blog posts - I'll link them to Facebook for those of you who are my Facebook friends. For those of you who are not, you'll just have to keep checking the blog.
Watch out now! I tried to figure out how to type that in the way I was saying it, but I couldn't figure it out so instead check out the super cheese-tastic gangsta-riffic Beatnuts video for "Watch Out Now".
Monday, April 8, 2013
R.I.P. Patio Umbrella
Here I am, sitting on the lower balcony, enjoying a wonderful cup of fresh-brewed coffee, typing away on my laptop, when suddenly, there's a crash from above. The dog jumps up and starts barking. My heart stops. I look around wondering what the hell just happened. Then I see it. My lovely patio umbrella floating down to the street below. Well, it didn't necessarily float. It fell. Crashed and burned. A gust of wind murdered the umbrella. As I watched it slam onto the pavement below, my heart broke just a bit. But thank little-baby-Jesus that there were no other casualties. No bike riders or pedestrians. No dogs. No cars. No horse-drawn carriages. There is always someone or something in the street. Whew. But still. The umbrella is no more. It fell victim to the mighty winds of the Mississippi. As I sadly placed it into the garbage bin, my thoughts were glum. The owner of the sex shop stood guard over the scene. The owner of MRB hung his head in sorrow. We've all lost something today. But I'm guessing some homeless dude will scoop you up, and give you new life. As a cover to the rain. You will guard over him while he sleeps on the street. You will go on a new adventure. Either to the levees and back streets with Mr. Homeless Dude or to the city dump. But you are no longer mine. So now. Only the base remains. And will remain. As an everlasting memorial to the loss of my friend in times of sun, when all I needed was shade. Alas, patio umbrella, you will be missed. . .
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Day 2 - April 2
Tuesday:
I had just spent my first night in the new place. I was slightly afraid that it would turn out to be haunted, but there were no eerie footsteps or disembodied voices. I woke up to coffee brewing and the sun shining. The jazz music had already started and it meandered down the street, winding it's way up the balcony, and it's subtle notes could be heard upstairs. Best way to wake up in the world.
As tempting as it was to relax in the southern Louisiana sun, we had a mission to complete. I was in desperate need of some furniture. Seriously - the TV was sitting on the floor and there was no home for the cookbooks. #first world problems. After a few hours of searching Royal Street (which was a bad idea in the first place because it's really expensive and super touristy and even though I love the art places, the antique shops are really really tacky), I was hot and hungry (which everyone knows is not a pretty combination for me) and was on the verge of giving up. So we took a break and headed back to the French Quarter Grille at MRB for lunch. Two words - Crawfish Rangoon. Holy crap. I had died and gone to a Cajun-Oriental heaven. It was a beautiful combination and I think I could die happy if that was the only thing I ever ate for the rest of my life.
You'll figure out pretty quick here that I LOVE food. Not good for the hips. But fuck it. Life's too damn short. Anywho.
We did discover this great furniture place on the edge of the Quarter called Discoveries Furniture and Finds. It was beautiful, reasonably priced, vintage, and perfect. I will definitely be going back when I save up some pennies.
We sold-out and decided to give up the local hunt and headed to Target. I know. I know. I tried to stick to local shops, but I was not willing to pay $1000 for an end table. Talk about getting swindled and pimped. (thanks Macklemore...now I have "Thrift Shop" in my head.) Three carts later, we loaded up and headed back to the Quarter and spent the evening drinking and assembling furniture. None of us had the energy or motivation to make ourselves presentable enough for a dinner out (and we seriously looked like shit), so we decided to order pizza from Angeli on Decatur. The Virtuos Angel pizza (garlic herb sauce, mozzarella cheese, artichokes, spinach, fresh mushrooms, and tomatoes) was the BEST pizza I've ever had.
I had just spent my first night in the new place. I was slightly afraid that it would turn out to be haunted, but there were no eerie footsteps or disembodied voices. I woke up to coffee brewing and the sun shining. The jazz music had already started and it meandered down the street, winding it's way up the balcony, and it's subtle notes could be heard upstairs. Best way to wake up in the world.
As tempting as it was to relax in the southern Louisiana sun, we had a mission to complete. I was in desperate need of some furniture. Seriously - the TV was sitting on the floor and there was no home for the cookbooks. #first world problems. After a few hours of searching Royal Street (which was a bad idea in the first place because it's really expensive and super touristy and even though I love the art places, the antique shops are really really tacky), I was hot and hungry (which everyone knows is not a pretty combination for me) and was on the verge of giving up. So we took a break and headed back to the French Quarter Grille at MRB for lunch. Two words - Crawfish Rangoon. Holy crap. I had died and gone to a Cajun-Oriental heaven. It was a beautiful combination and I think I could die happy if that was the only thing I ever ate for the rest of my life.
You'll figure out pretty quick here that I LOVE food. Not good for the hips. But fuck it. Life's too damn short. Anywho.
We did discover this great furniture place on the edge of the Quarter called Discoveries Furniture and Finds. It was beautiful, reasonably priced, vintage, and perfect. I will definitely be going back when I save up some pennies.
We sold-out and decided to give up the local hunt and headed to Target. I know. I know. I tried to stick to local shops, but I was not willing to pay $1000 for an end table. Talk about getting swindled and pimped. (thanks Macklemore...now I have "Thrift Shop" in my head.) Three carts later, we loaded up and headed back to the Quarter and spent the evening drinking and assembling furniture. None of us had the energy or motivation to make ourselves presentable enough for a dinner out (and we seriously looked like shit), so we decided to order pizza from Angeli on Decatur. The Virtuos Angel pizza (garlic herb sauce, mozzarella cheese, artichokes, spinach, fresh mushrooms, and tomatoes) was the BEST pizza I've ever had.
Angeli on Decatur
Thank God for all the walking, otherwise, at the end of this year, I'll need to be rolled out of my apartment like the girl from Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. Sexy.
So loves. Take care. I'm doing my best to get you all up to date. Day 3 should be posted later today as well.
Love love love your faces.
Ali
Friday, April 5, 2013
Day 1 - April 1
Happy Monday bitches!
Seriously - this was my first thought when I woke up in the beautiful (uh-hum - shitty) La Quinta in Metaire, Louisiana. But I had butterflies. And was immediately freaking out/excited/like a little kid going to Disney World. So I ripped off the covers and opened the curtains and looked out onto a beautiful, sunny New Orleans morning. Kate and Jodi weren't stoked about the curtains being opened. They were still sound asleep and it was pretty rude on my part to blind them. But, still. I was here!
So, after two days and seven states and over a thousand miles, we jumped back into the Nissan for a 20-minute drive down to the Quarter...
The move-in was crazy. First of all, my street is so tiny that there was no feasible way to park the UHaul to unload it without completely blocking traffic. "Hmmm...what shall I do about this dilemma?" I had thought to myself the week before. So per my wonderful realtor's direction (insert shout out to Wayne Wilkinson at French Quarter Realty here.) I set up to have my street barricaded and closed by the cops. Yes. I know. I was crazy surprised that they would do this. But the officer was super friendly and helpful and I am now in love with my district police department...(insert another shout out to 8th District Police District of NOPD here.)
Now, keep in mind, as I pulled up to my building, I had never ever seen this apartment before renting it. I was rolling the dice that it would be amazing...and thank little-baby-Jesus that I was right. It is beautiful. So with the help of two spiderman-wannabe moving guys (insert yet another shout out to High Tech Movers here.) and my wonderful mom & sister, we were all moved in by lunch. So there we were, surrounded by boxes and bubble wrap. And it was glorious.
We had A LOT of adventures this day. Seriously. This is going to be a pretty long post. Because everything was so new and exciting and we couldn't get enough. We met some crazy people and dogs - like:
- J.D. - the owner of Mr. B's bar right next door and his oh-so-ugly yet cute in a I'm-an-old-pitbull dog named J.W. (picture to come)
- Herbie (aka Butch Cassidy) - my friendly, somewhat odd neighbor who sweeps the courtyard and owns a little Chihuahua named Rocky who peed on my mom's foot
- Charlie Serio - my Louisiana born-and-raised landlord who loves this place just as much as I do
- Ricky (aka Mango) - the little pug dog that MJ met at the dog park...she is MJ's long-lost sister, I swear
After attempting to get through some of the hundred or so boxes (that may or may not be an exaggeration), we ventured out for some lunch. Which in this city, means having a million places to choose from and knowing that they will all be amazing. We stopped at the French Market Cafe - this great outdoor place at the end of my street where there's always a jazz band playing. We indulged in Crawfish Beignets (a-fucking-mazing) and drank Hurricanes and laughed at my mom for just being such a Jodi.
We wandered the Quarter and found amazing little corner grocery stores. We unpacked and assembled and cleaned. We were exhausted and happy and relaxed, especially when it came time for wine on the balcony. We sipped white wine and listened to the Haunted Tours guide tell tales of ghosts and vampires to tourists on the street below. We watched barges and ships sail along the Mississippi River over the tops of the trees at the end of the street.
Jodi, exhausted from driving and moving and the general electricity in the air, inquired about sleeping without curtains.
Me and Kate: "Huh - what does that have to do with anything?"
Jodi: "Well. How am I supposed to sleep with the light coming in the window?"
Kate: "Well - just head down to the BDSM sex shop (insert shout out to Second Skin here.) next door and buy a mask. I'm sure they have a great selection."
Jodi: "Will you go for me?"
Kate: "Absolutely not."
So once Jodi made her peace with the fact that she would have to contend with not having curtains or a mask and went to bed, Kate and I decided we were absolutely famished. Honestly - late night gyros at Alibaba's were just the ticket. OMG - fucking awesome. And the perfect end to the perfectly imperfect day.
It was bliss. It was perfect. And it was the beginning.
Overheard Quote of the Day:
"Take my gay card away. I don't want to get mugged again."
Much love.
Ali
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Welcome
Hello loves. So here I am. On this amazing adventure. I picked up everything and moved from cold, snowy Wisconsin to hot and humid New Orleans. And I couldn't be happier or more scared or more excited. I'm writing this to share with you my journey through Nola - a day-by-day account of my life in the French Quarter for the next year. So join me on this adventure for the next 365 beautiful, terrifying, wonderful days.
So. I'm sure you have some questions. I'll try my best to fill you in on what prompted this crazy decision and where I've now found myself...
First things first. Why move at all?
So everyone knows that I had it made living at my parents' house in Marshfield, Wisconsin rent-free. No bills were nice. But seriously, at 28, do you want to live with your parents? Even if they are incredibly fabulous and generous and amazing? No. Sorry. Not for me. I've always been an independent soul - ask John and Jodi about their vivacious and impulsive eldest daughter...I'm sure they have plenty of stories. I love my hometown. Don't get me wrong. But my wheels were spinning and it was time for me to move on.
So, why Nola?
I was going to move to Chicago. Was looking at apartments and telling anyone that would listen that I was moving there. But then, I had the opportunity to visit New Orleans because of a work trip and fell in love. I fell in love with the history and the buildings and the cobble-stone streets and the food and the people. I knew this was it. Where my next step was. Where my new beginning is.
Um. Ok. So, why the French Quarter?
I know there is no such thing as a stupid question, but seriously, this is one of the dumbest. Why not?? It's the French Quarter. It's the heart of the city. It's beautiful and smells like amazing food all of the time and jazz music plays from some place down the street all day and it's just the right amount of odd. I feel at home here...it is me. My personality come to life in brick and mortar and iron.
Ok. So we get that you love the Quarter. But you know it gets hot there right? Like unbearably, disgustingly hot?
Yep. Got that. I know it gets a bit warm. And yes, I know that is an understatement. Summer down here in the South is hell. Trust me. I know. Don't forget I lived in Houston, Texas for a few years. Jumping into a swimming pool at the end of August is like jumping into bathwater. It feels like you walked into an oven when you walk out your front door. Everything is sticky and sweaty and hot. And the only break from the heat and humidity is the God-bless-it central air conditioning. Yes. I know. It gets hot. But it gets cold at home. Like, can't-feel-your-fingers-and-toes-and-think-your-nose-is-frostbit kind-of cold. Where the only break from the snow and sub-zero temps is the God-bless-it furnace and fireplace. I think I can handle it.
Well. You know you have to watch your back. It's super dangerous - the crime is terrible, right?
Um. Yeah. Every city in these amazing United States has it's share of crime. It happens everywhere. But the Quarter is one of the safest places in the city. It has to be. How would this town keep it's economy going if their #1 tourist attraction was shady? There are cops everywhere here. I feel so safe. Ask Jodi - do you think my mom would have left me here if it was sketch? Nope. She wouldn't. So don't worry about me, loves. Not only do I have a vicious guard dog named Maryjane, but you'll find me walking with a box cutter just in case.
Speaking of Maryjane...what about her? Does she like it? What if you go on the road for work?
Oh. Goodness. Don't even worry about this dog. She's in love even more than I am. As we speak, she's curled up on a patio chair on the balcony surveying her domain. This bitch loves it. She loves walking and smelling new things and other dogs (surprisingly). We found a dog park a few blocks away that she actually seemed to enjoy. Her vet is right in the Quarter and he comes highly recommended. And when I go away for work, she'll stay at Camp Bow-Wow and have all the fun in the world with her fellow "campers". Yes. Seriously. They have places like that. I think my girl will be just fine.
Ok. So you have your dog. But you don't know anyone there, right? Won't you get lonely?
This was the toughest part of moving here. Not knowing anyone. But I knew I would be ok. The people here are amazing and welcoming. I know I'll get lonely, but I've already met some fabulous people and it seems that just about everyone I know from home knows someone who lives here. I'll make friends and maybe even meet some great guy who sweeps me off my feet. We'll see.
Ok. Most important question. When can we visit?!?
You are more than welcome whenever you want to come down to this fabulous city. There are music fests and parades all the time. I have a spare bedroom and have been known to be a super great hostess. So, buy your plane tickets, put on your party pants, and come visit silly.
I will truly miss everyone from home. You are my favorite people in the world. But you became my favorite people by loving me and supporting me...just like you've done with this move. So thank you for helping me keep my courage and yelling at me when I doubted myself. I couldn't have done this without you.
Much love.
Ali
So. I'm sure you have some questions. I'll try my best to fill you in on what prompted this crazy decision and where I've now found myself...
First things first. Why move at all?
So everyone knows that I had it made living at my parents' house in Marshfield, Wisconsin rent-free. No bills were nice. But seriously, at 28, do you want to live with your parents? Even if they are incredibly fabulous and generous and amazing? No. Sorry. Not for me. I've always been an independent soul - ask John and Jodi about their vivacious and impulsive eldest daughter...I'm sure they have plenty of stories. I love my hometown. Don't get me wrong. But my wheels were spinning and it was time for me to move on.
So, why Nola?
I was going to move to Chicago. Was looking at apartments and telling anyone that would listen that I was moving there. But then, I had the opportunity to visit New Orleans because of a work trip and fell in love. I fell in love with the history and the buildings and the cobble-stone streets and the food and the people. I knew this was it. Where my next step was. Where my new beginning is.
Um. Ok. So, why the French Quarter?
I know there is no such thing as a stupid question, but seriously, this is one of the dumbest. Why not?? It's the French Quarter. It's the heart of the city. It's beautiful and smells like amazing food all of the time and jazz music plays from some place down the street all day and it's just the right amount of odd. I feel at home here...it is me. My personality come to life in brick and mortar and iron.
Ok. So we get that you love the Quarter. But you know it gets hot there right? Like unbearably, disgustingly hot?
Yep. Got that. I know it gets a bit warm. And yes, I know that is an understatement. Summer down here in the South is hell. Trust me. I know. Don't forget I lived in Houston, Texas for a few years. Jumping into a swimming pool at the end of August is like jumping into bathwater. It feels like you walked into an oven when you walk out your front door. Everything is sticky and sweaty and hot. And the only break from the heat and humidity is the God-bless-it central air conditioning. Yes. I know. It gets hot. But it gets cold at home. Like, can't-feel-your-fingers-and-toes-and-think-your-nose-is-frostbit kind-of cold. Where the only break from the snow and sub-zero temps is the God-bless-it furnace and fireplace. I think I can handle it.
Well. You know you have to watch your back. It's super dangerous - the crime is terrible, right?
Um. Yeah. Every city in these amazing United States has it's share of crime. It happens everywhere. But the Quarter is one of the safest places in the city. It has to be. How would this town keep it's economy going if their #1 tourist attraction was shady? There are cops everywhere here. I feel so safe. Ask Jodi - do you think my mom would have left me here if it was sketch? Nope. She wouldn't. So don't worry about me, loves. Not only do I have a vicious guard dog named Maryjane, but you'll find me walking with a box cutter just in case.
Speaking of Maryjane...what about her? Does she like it? What if you go on the road for work?
Oh. Goodness. Don't even worry about this dog. She's in love even more than I am. As we speak, she's curled up on a patio chair on the balcony surveying her domain. This bitch loves it. She loves walking and smelling new things and other dogs (surprisingly). We found a dog park a few blocks away that she actually seemed to enjoy. Her vet is right in the Quarter and he comes highly recommended. And when I go away for work, she'll stay at Camp Bow-Wow and have all the fun in the world with her fellow "campers". Yes. Seriously. They have places like that. I think my girl will be just fine.
Ok. So you have your dog. But you don't know anyone there, right? Won't you get lonely?
This was the toughest part of moving here. Not knowing anyone. But I knew I would be ok. The people here are amazing and welcoming. I know I'll get lonely, but I've already met some fabulous people and it seems that just about everyone I know from home knows someone who lives here. I'll make friends and maybe even meet some great guy who sweeps me off my feet. We'll see.
Ok. Most important question. When can we visit?!?
You are more than welcome whenever you want to come down to this fabulous city. There are music fests and parades all the time. I have a spare bedroom and have been known to be a super great hostess. So, buy your plane tickets, put on your party pants, and come visit silly.
I will truly miss everyone from home. You are my favorite people in the world. But you became my favorite people by loving me and supporting me...just like you've done with this move. So thank you for helping me keep my courage and yelling at me when I doubted myself. I couldn't have done this without you.
Much love.
Ali
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