Of First Tubes and Delayed Closings...

The night started out just like every other night...diabetic refusal, drunk and disorderly at the mission. At 2300 we were posted way out east. I had just finished my chart from the drunk and was opening my napkin across my lap, about to enjoy some yummy salad the Hubbs had packed for me. Doot Doot Doot, "Engine 22, Medic 723 respond to a 1432 Sanderson road for PD reporting possible assault. Stage and await PD."
"Damnit! My salad looked so good!" I was pretty sure it was going to be BS but I packed up my lunch and put on my gloves and my eye protection. I even pulled out a set and built an IV lock. I taped a trauma band to the wall so that I would remember to give the number to MRH if it came to that. We drove over to the staging area (out of sight of the address given) and we waited. It wasn't 5 min before the radio chirped "Engine 22, Medic 723, you can clear. Non injury."
"Damnit! I knew it. Crap!"
We went back to our assigned street corner. My preceptor and his partner fell asleep. I played solitaire for a while before giving up and closing my eyes as well.
At 0415: "Doot Doot Doot! Engine 22, Medic 723 respond to 1432 Sanderson road for AS1" (this means someone has been assaulted or at least that is what dispatch is calling it). "Wait a second, isn't that?" "Yup". And we were off, lights blazing, sirens blaring.
We arrived to find the nastiest apartment. It was like some frat boys had moved in and locked the door behind themselves. There were holes in the drywall, dirt everywhere and cans of 4 Lokos in various states of consumption lined up along the sofa and the entertainment center. On the floor of the apartment was a young man. He was face down on a sofa cushion writhing around like a wild animal. He was flanked by his brother and a "friend". His brother was significantly older and appeared entirely sober. The same could not be said for the friend. The brother informed us that he had a seizure disorder and he took medicine for it. He said his friend had called when he had started seizing and he had rushed over. That was about eight minutes ago.
I was still half asleep but mesmerized by this creature writhing about on the floor intermittently drooling and thrashing about and then still, staring at us and demanding to know what was happening. Before long we were in the back of the ambulance (here after referred to as "the car" for you non-EMS type). Once in the back he was seat belted to the stretcher and I set to work obtaining vital signs. I got a manual BP and heart rate as my preceptor turned on the monitor. I was attempting to take a respiratory rate when it dawned on my sleep fogged brain that he wasn't breathing. "Ed, he's, uhh, not breathing...." I trailed off. Instinctively I took my pen and squished on his finger to elicit a pain response as I shouted his name in his ear. "Jake! Jake! You need to breath! Jake! Wake Up Dude! You need to BREA..." "GASP!" He tried to sit up and began thrashing around. "Where's my girlfriend?! What the hell?!" He was "awake" but he was staring right through me. He started wringing his hands together and staring at them in a trance. *Meth? or just the Lokos?* I wondered to myself. Nobody said anything about meth...Not that that means a damn thing.... As I was pondering all of this I was hooking him up to the monitor and putting on the end tidal CO2 monitor. This lets us know A. Is he breathing? B. Is he exchanging oxygen and CO2 properly? I hit print on the monitor as I pulled my pre-made lock off the wall and started an IV. "Guess I get to use this on you after all." I said under my breath. I pulled the strip from the monitor and looked at his wave form (this is the tracing that tells us how well his breathing is working and how regular it is) it was ALL jacked up. There were a few breaths and then nothing. I thought about checking the connection at the monitor but instinct made me turn my head and put my hand on Jake's chest. He wasn't breathing. AGAIN. I shouted and squished his finger. I rubbed my knuckles on his sternum. Nothing. I looked to Ed who was getting out the leads for the ECG and I said "He's not breathing." It was almost like Jake heard me because again, he roared to life. This time making less sense and becoming increasingly wild in his movements. "He's not going to tolerate a non-re-breather mask" I said out loud. "Let's just get to the hospital" Ed said to his partner who was at the wheel. We fired up and as we pulled onto the road Ed looked at me. "He's your patient. Do you RSI him?"

RSI means Rapid Sequence Intubation. It is when you decide that someone is no longer able to control and protect their own airway and you need to control and protect it for them by paralyzing and sedating them with drugs, placing a plastic tube in their trachea, inflating a balloon to prevent anything else from getting into their trachea and then breathing for them with a bag filled with oxygen. RSI is a privilege and a HUGE responsibility. There are many states who do not allow their medics to RSI patients no matter how sick or unstable. It is a highly controversial topic in EMS right now. However, it is the gold standard of care for securing and protecting a patient's airway. Rescue airways like the king or the LMA do not secure the airway if the patient vomits. This puts the patient at very high risk for aspiration pneumonia...the reasons I am a fan of RSI go on and on and the research indicating both its strengths and liabilities are the topic for another post.

"How far out are we?" I ask, my voice catching just a bit. "How far to the hospital man?" Ed asks the partner. "Ehh 5min" he says. Ed looked out the window. "Hmmm. I don't think so. I think we are further out than that. What do you want to do?" I froze for half a second. "He's getting worse. He is spending less and less time breathing and more time apneic. He isn't coming around if this is post-ictal. If he's been drinking he's gonna puke. He's not going to tolerate a non-re-breather. I want to take over for him. Let's RSI him." "Ok" says Ed. "Hey partner, call fire back, pull over and join us. We need to tube this dude."

I jumped into the airway seat and began setting up my stuff as Ed began sorting out the drugs. Partner joined us and attempted to place a mask on his face for a little added 02. He woke up and began thrashing around and wringing his hands. He tried to sit up and appeared to be seeing things that none of us were seeing. *This kid is tweaked out of his mind* I thought to myself. I thought through my airway algorithm as I pulled out tubes and checked balloons. I turned on the suction machine and flipped on all of the lights.
"Etomidate is in.....Versed is in..... Succs is in.....30 more seconds....10..9..8......Ok, go time"

I placed my hand on his head and tilted it back, I opened his mouth and placed the blade in his mouth sweeping his tongue to the side. I looked and all I could see was pink and secretions. I held the blade with my left hand and reached for the suction on the wall to my right. I suctioned and repositioned. I hit the release mechanism to lower the head of the gurney with my knee and it crashed down onto my lap. *SHIT!* "Cric pressure please!" *Oh Damn! There they are!*. "I am visualizing the cords. I am passing the tube through the cords. I am in. Bag please." The partner placed the bag on the end of the tube as I withdrew the stylet. I had a death grip on the tube with my left hand as I fumbled to place my stethoscope in my ears with my right. I listened over the epigastrum and then over the lungs. It was so loud in the back of the car with the suction pumping away next to my head but I KNOW what tube in gut sounds like and there was none of that. I bagged him a few times and as the tape was being secured I could feel his mouth working away at the tube and my fingers. "Guys, he's waking up. We need some more sedation on board". Just then the fire medic arrived and the partner jumped out and back into the driver's seat. We were on our way. Jake was starting to writhe on the gurney again and Ed handed the fire medic the Midazolam. It felt like an eternity passed as he drew up and double checked the dose. Finally, Jake relaxed again. I was able to bag him easily again without the disturbing feeling of trying to compete with his own respiratory drive. It felt like days later, we arrived at the hospital. We piled out of the car just as Jake began waking up again. "Shit! He is just burning through this versed guys" I pointed out. It had only been about 7min since the last dose. We rolled into the brightly lit room and the Doc and the respiratory therapist were waiting for us with arms folded. "Good morning" I said. "This is Jake. Jake was at home partying with some friends tonight and we are not clear what happened but Jake had a seizure. Jake has a seizure disorder for which he takes Dilantin. His family and friend say he takes his meds as prescribed and he has not missed any doses. His buddy says he smoked some weed tonight. We arrived to find Jake apparently post-ictal on the floor. Initially he was making some sense and interacting with us. As we loaded him in the car he began making less sense and began experiencing longer and longer periods of apnea interspersed with periods of violent disorientation. We elected to intubate him. Vital signs have remained steady. He has a 8.5 tube, 27 inches at the teeth and when he is properly sedated he is easy to ventilate. He is currently waking up and starting to buck the tube." As if on cue, Jake reached his hand up towards my hand on the tube.
The doc called for more sedation and the RT offered to take over my spot at the airway. I happily relinquished the responsibility and kept watching what he did as I helped the nurse hold Jake down until the Midazolam took effect. "Let's get this young man to the CT scanner. I want to look at his brain and we only have about 10 min before he needs more sedation" the doctor said. As I was gathering up the wires and cords that were spilled all over the floor the doc looked at me. "Is that your tube?" "Yes" I said. "Nice big one. Good work." I blushed. "Thanks" I said, "It was my first one".
Fifteen minutes later Jake was back from the scanner and being tended to in his room by a troop of nurses and the RT. Labs were being drawn, x-rays shot and the tube backed out a little from it's placement in his right mainstem. I went to the bathroom and slumped to the floor. "No fucking way..." I said to myself as my eyes filled with tears. "No fucking way..." Somehow the gravity of what had just happened hit me all at once and there I was teared up on the ED bathroom floor. Adrenalin was rushing through me. My hands were trembling uncontrollably and I thought I was going to be sick. I took a few deep breaths and started to feel it all. *I helped that boy. I helped him breathe. I just did right by that kid. I DID it*. As Ed bragged me up to everyone on the computer. "She got in there an placed it on the first try. Did it like a rock star."

I have arrived on the doorstep of my education. I am ready to learn now because NOW I understand that this job is about 95% no big deal, diabetic refusals, drunk tank brawls. But it is the 5% that makes it life and death. The 5% that makes all the difference. I understand what it means to have a young man's life in my hands. It is huge. It is a terrifying honor. I am ready to learn how to serve my patent's best interest in the 5%.

As if that were not enough for one week The Hubbs and I found out today that the sewer guy "needs more time" and thus we will not be closing on the first of the week after all. I don't know what that means. I don't know when we will close or when we will move. I cancelled the moving van today and then cried. I cried for the unsatisfactory nature of it all. I cried for wanting it to be over. I cried for wanting my mom. I cried out of exhaustion and exasperation. This week has been wonderful and awful all in one. I think I will lace up my sneakers tonight and take myself for a nice long run. The breeze is cool and the sun has gone down for the day. I won't sleep anyway so I might as well get some endorphins cranked up. Tomorrow's another day, I'm thirsty anyway, bring on the rain.....

Tachycardia

We are 79 days from wedding day and I must admit I have a lot of mixed emotions. I am very excited to celebrate my partnership to G in front of our family and friends. I can't wait to wear my dress. I can't wait to see our friends from far and wide as well as those who live right down the street. I CANNOT wait to see my brother and my parents. However, had we known we would be buying a house and all of this nonsense mere weeks before the wedding I think we likely would have opted for a wedding in G's folks backyard followed by a camping trip to the coast or something like that with our buddies. And, with guilt in my heart I must admit that right now that sounds like a lot less work.

The truth is that I feel married to the Hubbs. I feel like we have forged the first of our bonds in the fire of this past year. It sounds all cliche' but it has been a hell of a year. We have moved in 4 days and lost another house, we have (very much together) put me through a fast paced year of medic school and done it all on less than 2 full paychecks. We have dealt with lots of challenges and come out (as I see it) on top every time. We are like a cat who seems to land on its feet.

Wedding wedding wedding....It all seemed like such a good idea at the time. We were happy where we are and with all of the things we had. We have asked for money to help send us on a trip to Africa with Project Helping Hands as "honeymoon mission". NOW we are looking at all the stuff we need for this new house. I am not talking about candle sticks and crock pots or fancy linens and crystal. No, I am talking about a door that fits the back doorway properly, a deep freeze for the basement so we can buy locally raised antibiotic and hormone free meat in bulk and at a budget saving cost, shelving for the basement. I am talking about frames for the artwork we have recently acquired so that we don't start in this house with the same college kid feel as our houses before. It is all very materialistic but they are things that would make starting out in this house so wonderful. Anyway, that is where I stand in my poverty mind swirling with wants and "needs".

I must give a thank you to the mother in law, without whom I would have significantly more anxiety about just about everything from school loans to commitment. I will preface this by saying that my mom is one of my very best friends and she is number one in my book of bad ass, smart, wonderful women. That said, the mom2 is a total gift in my life. She is a friend in the same time zone when I need one. She is a total insomniac so she is my late night life line occasionally. She has a wicked sense of humor and she seems to "get" me. She certainly loves her son but on some fundamental level I think she must see something of herself in me. She seems to get the person I am trying to become as well as the person I am right now. She seems to understand that occasionally I need to share difficult things and I just need an ear not a remedy and I don't want to worry my mom so far away. Also, she is married. She has been married to the same wonderful, funny and stubborn man for over 30 years and shows no sign of changing that. My parents were married for 32 years and for 95% of that time I saw a happy, compatible partnership. My parents did not fight, nor did they speak disparagingly of one another ever. I had a true friendship as my model for what a partnership should look like. My parents divorced and I think I have said before that I think it has all shaken out for the best. I think they are more truly themselves now and I am happy and proud of them both in their own ways. I think I win twice because I saw a healthy marriage model as a child and then saw two people self actuate as "grown-ups". That said, my mother is no longer married to a man and there is "stuff" around all of that. This makes her not the absolute best person to talk about weathering the storms of a life long marriage. Not for lack of wanting to be that person....she just has some opinions now that I can't totally access on this end (the new end) of a partnership and adult life. It does make her a very open person to talk to about shedding the weight of the "musts" and "shoulds" and for that I can't begin to thank her. Anyway, the mom2 and I see eye to eye on so many things and that brings such a light to my heart I am tearing up now as I write about it. Talking to her today was really great.

Internship:

Wow! First let me say that I haven't even done anything cool yet but I LOVE being on the ambulance and running calls! I am starting to get pretty good at starting IVs in the back as we trundle down the road at a bumpy 40-60mph. I have spent the last two weeks running generic rather crap calls. We had 2 trauma entries but nothing even all that grand about either of them. The take home message is DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE MORONS!! Next week I will be working with a medic who is known to be intense and a little "particular" about the way things are done. Ed, my preceptor now, is a pretty laid back guy. He is a good teacher and since we haven't seen anyone who requires ANY sort of medical knowledge to care for it has been a little hard for him to challenge me. R.C will challenge me no matter what. I have already started reviewing protocols and medication doses so I can be ready to be "pimped" (put on the spot with questions).

There is something cool about riding around all night keeping watch on the city. It feels a little like a band of secret superheros. I know that sounds super geeky but I can't help it. No one thinks about it but at any time of day or night there is an ambulance not more than about 8mins away from where you are ready to help you if you get ill or hurt. We will come to your house, check your diabetic husband's sugar and put a line in, give him an amp of dextrose, wait until he is conscious again and making sense, then we will make him a turkey sandwich or maybe PB&J, check his sugar again and when we are satisfied that everything is OK, we will pack up our stuff, shake your hand, pat your husband on the back and tell him to finish the whole sandwich before going back to sleep, and we will leave....back out into the predawn darkness....back to our street corner. It is not a glamorous world. It is full of dirty corners and dirtier houses. It is full of people who want to hurt one another or themselves. It is full of sickness and death and bullshit. But it is a noble profession. I never would have thought I would be joining the ranks of these superheroes but here I am. They won't give me my own cape or even a good superhero name for a few more months but I am here, learning. Helping the watch standers and watching over the city.

So that is about the gist of things right now. I have been writing to my best friend who shall be henceforth known as "the captain". I have been trying to put together weekly house/wedding/school updates for her. It has been helpful for my processing. I find sometimes (like today) I just feel totally socked in by worry. I worry about everything but mostly money. I hate not getting a paycheck right now. I hate having to rely to heavily on the Mr. Its not really my style. However, it is my reality. I suppose I shall just keep my snoot down as the Mr likes to say, and work hard, try not to kill anyone and get the house packed up. That is the best I can do so off I go....

And The World Spins Madly On....

The Hubbs and I escaped to the woods a little over a week ago for a little camping trip with friends before my internship started. We packed (waaaaaaay too much shit into) the Jeep and tossed the dogs in on top and headed out of the rainy blah on this side of the mountains, to the sunshine and PERFECT weather on the other side. We spent the first night setting up camp and gathering wood and oh yeah, seeing a black bear and cub trying to cross the street! Eeep! It was a sight I won't soon forget. The momma came lumbering down out of the woods and saw us, turned tail and headed back up the embankment. Seconds later a 5oish lb cub comes tumbling down into the road, sees us, sees that his momma is already splitting in the other direction and follows her. G and I looked at each other and were dumb struck. "Duuhh, I thought you said there were no bear out here?". "Duuuh, I didn't think there were any." Thank you Steve Irwin!

We had a wonderful time with our friends G and C. They are recently engaged and planning a wedding for fall 2011. C is my kind of girlfriend. She is a little off beat and has a sly sense of humor. She and I fall just about equally on the apathy control freak scale of wedding planning which for me lately, has been just apathetic of center. Anyway, we both fret (very small scale) about things like our dresses and the food. She too is going the simple inexpensive dress route but still, like me wishes on some level to feel more beautiful than on any day of her life so far. I feel that! I am not even squeamish about it anymore. I love G and I am pumped to marry him! I want to look smokin' hot! Or AT LEAST feel really, really pretty.

On Thursday, G and I ran around the lake we were camped by (13 miles of trails!). It was a fun and staggeringly beautiful run. My shins couldn't even complain with the soft spongy trail beneath my feet. We took the young dog who did a great job on and off leash in the woods. I love taking her to the woods to run. It just makes her so happy.

On Friday, our other friends showed up expanding our merry little camp to 5 people and 3 dogs. It took a little time for the freak dogs to all settle down but soon it was a peaceable kingdom and the people were roasting sausages and drinking beer. It was so much fun. The next day I went for an accidental 9 mile run. I miscalculated my distances and my planned 6miler turned into a 9 miler. I did it. I just wondered why I was so dammed hungry. :)

The next few days were filled with failed attempts to fish, canoeing adventures, hikes to lost lakes, watching the dogs tear around by the shore some swimming and others doing everything in their power to "get" the other dog without having to get more than ankle deep. Every night was the same....The old dog would lay down on her bed facing the road on guard duty, the young dog would get very cold and end up either zipped into my jacket on her bed like a sleeping bag, or under a pile of towels and blankets like a living laundry pile. It was stinkin' cute.

On Monday everyone was packing up when The Hubbs received a text from his sis who requested he call as soon as he could. Lilsis does not generally call or text while we are away as she is freakishly respectful of our time together. (I know I said "freakishly" but I mean it in the most awestruck "nobody is as respectful of our time together as she is and we absolutely adore her for it" way). Needless to say he called her back as soon as he got the text. She informed us that we were going to have to move. AGAIN! Because our house was going to be put on the market. I say again, because we have only been in this house since November. We moved because the woman who owned our last place decided to move into it. We have not been here that long but I had imagined we would be here for a long time. I don't know why. We only signed a 9 month lease because she didn't want to end up with an empty house in the winter again...I just didn't think that it would mean we would have to move in the summer.

Anyway, I was mere nanoseconds from freaking out and spontaneously combusting when it occurred to me that I had a choice. I could freak out and cry and be generally miserable for an as yet to be determined period of time, or I could just chill my shit for five seconds, take some deep breaths, admit to myself that the last thing in the WORLD I wanted to do right now was find a new place to live, pack up all of our shit again and settle into a new house, and then I could realize how stressful this was going to be for my partner and best friend and I could rally a positive outlook and start brainstorming ways that this could be OK and good even. I could be a positive force and not just momentum. I could help him feel heard and seen and understood. I could do less freaking out and needing and more standing behind and supporting. Less MY way and more OUR way.

I am under no illusions that I am an easy woman to be married to. I am especially aware that this year sort of blows in sense that while we are trying to plan a wedding, settle into married life, and continue getting to know one another I went to paramedic school. I have been a giant money hole this year. I have been a huge financial burden and he has not said one word about it. He doesn't bitch or complain or point out that he is the money of this operation. He just holds up his end of the deal. ALL OF THE TIME! He does it so well and with no hint of resentment of the imbalance that I feel so strongly having never been the dependant in a relationship before. Anyway, I felt like the least I could do now would be to make a real effort to be an emotionally stable and even giving and supportive influence. I wanted to put his soul and heart in the black instead of the red this time.

We drove home from the mountains that afternoon, scrapping our plans for the second half of our vacation which included a trip to Bend and the High Desert Museum and a dinner date with a dear friend who just graduated from university. We felt like we had been punched in the gut. My wheels were spinning. Was there some way, any way that we could pool collective resources and *whispers* buy a house? That way, we would NEVER find ourselves in this shitty place again. We would never be at someone else's whim for a place to live. We could stop lighting hundreds of dollars on fire every month. The place would be ours to paint, ours to decorate, ours to repair and remodel. It would be OURS. The question remained...how would we put this all together? Could we do all of this in about 45 days? The wedding was in 90 days and we had a lot of people planning on staying with us for parts of the wedding weeks. I was also starting my internship (the work I am PAYING to do) 7p-7a four on four off for the next few months. What a cluster F%$#!

We called our moms. Yay moms! Over the next 4 hours (no joke people! 4 hours and these folks had it figured out!) Our families (all 3 of them) had lent support in various ways to make it possible for us to call a real estate agent and set up an appointment to look at houses two days later. And BAM! Just like that we were on our way to home owning.

Over the next few days we looked at a LOT of houses ourselves. We drove around peering in windows like a couple of perverts. We wrote down MLS numbers and emailed links to the parents. We wrote things of and underlined must-haves. When we finally met with Gail (the most amazing woman ever!) we had 7 houses to look at. This one was small, that one was a dump, this one had a horrible smell, that one a wet basement, this one was too much money, that one just wasn't "us". And then we stopped at Commercial St. A sweet little craftsman bungalow with a finished upstairs, a dry basement, a chicken coop and hardwood floors. (Sorry no pictures until it is ours for good. I am just superstitious) It was lovely and perfect and I wanted to move into it right now. I even like the color of paint on the walls. G agreed and so did Lilsis. We loved it. Gail told us to go home and talk about the houses we saw that day and to sleep on it.

We went home and decided to meet a buddy for a happy hour beer. A little while later we called Gail and asked to make an offer the next day. It was too good to pass up. It was in our price range, it was in our neighborhood area of choice, it was cute as shit! She agreed to meet us the next day to sign offer papers. We got drunk. I think there was even a shot of tequila from our buddy.

We met Gail at the house the next day and toured it and then another house in the same price range. The second house looked like the set of a horror movie. It smelled, it had frightening siding, the trim and floors were a total mess, there was tile and carpet in one of the upstairs bedrooms and the basement was horrifying. I wanted to cry. "OK, Uncle! We will make a competitive offer! The house is a good value! I can't see anymore!" Gail laughed at me. We signed the offer and she turned it in.

They countered and we countered their offer. We agreed on an offer that weekend, 5 days after receiving the letter from our current landlord. Two days later we met the inspector who found nothing majorly wrong with the house. Tomorrow the sewer will be scoped and the radon testing will happen. We will be back to negotiations by Monday or Tuesday. We want them to put in a new back door (one the mice can't get in through) and secure the electrical wires to the house. Minor things really. Fingers are crossed that the sewer doesn't have roots in it!

The Hubbs struggled a little getting in gear with all of this but as of today we have thrown out and recycled about three bins of shit we moved and never unpacked the FIRST time we moved together. We were packing and talking last night and he brought up something really interesting. As a culture, we associate much of our identity with place. Who we are is very closely linked to where we are from and where we live. Moving is a very unnerving process and lends itself to clinging behavior. Especially in our unattached youth. When you are leaving your parents or packing up at the end of university, you hold dear to every stuffed animal and ticket stub from every concert you saw with your buddies as a way to cement that you have a place. A way to be solid in such a groundless time as moving. Even as G and I moved into this house, there was so much uncertainty. It was mostly good but it wasn't any less unsettling to find ourselves moving. This time, the potential is so thick you can cut it with a knife. This will be the house we bring our family home to. Hopefully, this will be the house where they are born. It may also be the house they first come home to though and that is good too. I have the baby bug pretty bad right now and so that is largely how I project my future. I see myself making PB&J sandwiches at the kitchen counter and listening to G reading to our small people on the sofa in the living room. I picture us collecting eggs from our chickens in the backyard and planting veggies in the side yard. I see my life unfolding in that house. Because of all of that potential somehow I am ready to shake loose some of the clutter of my life up to now. I want to throw out those boxes of random shit. I want to send all of those clothes I haven't worn in forever to Goodwill. I want to streamline. I want to prune and make room for the new. It all seems very exciting to be "making ready" for our lives together in this way. Even if the small people don't arrive the way I dream or at all for some time. The house seems like the beginning of something new and wonderful. I need space for it to bloom.

Well, that is just about all the news fit to print. It may or may not be obvious that there are a few upcoming posts. Internship is awesome! I can't wait to start my memoirs of a baby medic. We had our "engagement" photos this week. As if we needed one more thing to worry about! It turned out to be a real blessing. It felt like the cap of a monumental week. It was nice even, to have someone telling me to smooch on The Hubbs. I also need to post about how much my mom rocks. She has just been a shooting star this week. I don't know what I would have done without her. Our moms are a pretty rad pair actually. G's mom is one of my favorite women in the whole world. I can't believe I scored so hard in the mother-in-law department.

Well, I have been running! I am running a half marathon on the 4th of July and I am feeling pretty darn optimistic! I think I am going to win this one! Haha! No really, I have done many more high mileage runs in prep for this run and I think it is going to be more fun than any of the other halves I have done in the last 2 years. I am excited. My body continues to change though not so much on the scale these days. I could eat less cheese and it is about time to go there in the final push for the wedding. However, I am happily trotting along eating what is good for me 80% of the time and getting lots of exercise. Life is crazy but life is good. I will keep posting as things keep unfolding.