Decisions

I have to find a new vehicle before May is over.  When the lease on the BNC's vehicle (a Toyota Tundra) ran out in August, we opted to not purchase it.  I chose to give my huge-ass Toyota Sequoia to the BNC and asked my dad if he would let me drive one of his cars for a while until I decided what I wanted.  The car he lent me is a Toyota Avalon.  It's waaaay smaller than the Sequoia and it was quite an adjustment to drive it.  And then, when I had to drive the Sequoia a few times, whoa Nelly, I learned I lost my flare for driving it as well as parking it.  For shame.  So now, my old man wants to sell his Toyota Tacoma and keep the Toyota Avalon as his primary mode of travel.  It would make more sense to keep the Tacoma since it's a pick-up and he's a mechanic but you can feel every gust of wind, every pebble when you drive it.  I used to have a Tacoma so I know.  With the Avalon you get a smooth ride, quick turns and comfort.  I don't blame him for wanting the Avalon.  Besides, his choice.  So, my car search has begun.  I used to have a 4-Runner and loved it but traded it in for the Sequoia so naturally, I wanted to get another 4-Runner.  I narrowed the search and spoke to my bank about financing it.  Then, the Old Man, bringing along his Consumer Report Book, suggested I get a Toyota FJ Cruiser.  Shit.  Years ago I thought about it but wasn't too impressed with it.  I figured, "I'm not 20 and there aren't any mountains in Houston so WTF?"  But now, I've had to put it in the Maybe Column.  My search just got harder.  That's what she said. 

The 4-Runner, a beautiful and reliable car.  I love it. 

But then an FJ Cruiser shows up and now you got Brandon/Dylan problems. 

Let's throw in a Toyota Camry to symbolize the Mega Burger from the Peach Pit that I always wanted to try. 

I'm an amazing driver, TOOT, TOOT, so I know I'll rock out in any of these cars.  For example, a trailer blew a tire this morning on the freeway, right in front of me, and I kept my cool and didn't hit him.  Scared me the fuck out but I didn't contribute to morning traffic so yay.  But, I need to make a choice. 

Dilemmas. 

BTW, Toyota ain't paying me shit to write this.  I just love them.  My parent's home can look like a Toyota dealership when we all gather there since my mom has a Rav-4.  B drives a Dodge Magnum though.  Go fig. 

Funk

I'm in a funk in every way possible.  My cooking is uninspired and while it tastes good, I find it boring.  Roasted chicken with mashed potatoes, while moist, crunchy and fluffy, was just what it was, roasted chicken with mashed potatoes.  (It doesn't help that even the photo looks boring.)



Ths pork chops, roasted new potatoes and some couscous was ok.  A few minutes after starting the sear on my chops, I remembered why I don't do it as often.  It's essentially a fried chop, one that is not only unhealthy but also a stinky nuisance.  Granted, pork chops smell yummy but I really hate how the smell permeates everything.  Also, I don't like waking up at 2a and getting hungry because my bedsheets, once full of that awesome Downey scent, smell like pork chops.  Which, brings me to the other areas of my current state of funkdom.  I am not sleeping very well.  I toss and toss, wake up at all hours and have odd dreams.  I ceased taking Lunesta about a month ago because, I don't know, a strong dependency was about to occur and that would have been no bueno despite my strong, hard love for prescription drugs.  I'm also having some aches and pains that make me feel closer to 40 than I am willing to admit to right now.  Fuck, 40.  That's a milestone.  A really big adult milestone.  If (cause I can get really morbid) and when I hit 40, will I have to retire my Harry Potter calendars?  Remove my Little Mermaid pillowcase?  Will my love for Harry still be around at 40 or will a new boy wizard slither (not Slytherin, not Slytherin) his/her way into my inner 12-year old?  Dilemmas. 

Back to my funk, shit, it's really bothering me.  Maybe it's the move and still trying to find my groove there, trying to make our furniture work, getting the kitchen organized in a way that is most efficient for me, researching and researching cat trees, wall shelves, a TV stand and now a MFing car.  Maybe it's the stupid weather.  I'm sorry Snow/Icepocalypse.  Come back, even if for a day.  This damn, what I have deemed as Zombie Weather, which involves morning  fog, lots of humidity and overcast skies, sucks big, hairy balls.  For realsies.

I'd much prefer George Clinton than this.  Blah.

Romano's Pizza, Etc.

Friday night we finally decided to start tackling The List.  There are 24 places listed and, if we average 2 a month, we'll be good for the year (not including any last minute additions). 

I was in the mood for pizza, and since we had a couple of errands to run, we opted for Romano's, which was in the general area.  B worked here over 10 years ago, after he quit working at the movie theater next door where the BNC and I saw many movies for free.  Romano's is also the place where B met his current girlfriend, a lovely girl that is soooo totally in.  I had only eaten at this place once before and never bothered to return so this year, since it's the Year of Try It, it was placed on The List.  Dudes, I really, really, really wanted to love this place.  It would have made me happy to find a pizza place that was closer and thus more easily accessible than my beloved Brother's.  However, it's not going to happen.  We ordered a regular pepperoni pizza because, if they can't make a basic then why bother.  It was so bland that the first words out of our mouths were, "It ain't Brother's."  I was so disappointed.  The pizza was just a small notch above pizza from the mall.  But, my disappointment doesn't go far since, afterall, this is the whole point of this; to try (and retry) new places.  The pizza may have failed but our mission hasn't.

There are a couple of more pizza places on The List but, after talking to B about them, I have learned that Pink's Pizza is bad.  I'll most likely end up going anyhow for researching sake because it's a permanent notecard.  It's the law and I am no lawbreaker.

Galtin's BBQ, which recently got a great review in the Houston Press, will be the next place to tackle.  Wish us luck.

In other food news, Troop, Chapa and I went to Wings-n-More Sunday afternoon as a precursor to the NFC and AFC Championship games.  As usual, a great time was had.

That is, until I lost Troop's gun at the BNC's show Sunday night.  Yea, I suck.  Troop gonna have to learn MMA. 

I had a sad

With the BNC playing a show in another city last night, one in which I couldn't attend because of, I dunno, had to work today, I was left on my own for dinner and afternoon companionship. Usually a bowl of soup and a cat or two or three would suffice but after going to the doctor to have my CGM removed, I was in awfully low spirits. Oh, did I fail to mention the ambush at the doctor's appointment Friday afternoon? Well, let's take a detour.

It was my 4-month follow-up and history has taught me that for the past 3 years, visiting the endo in September brings you tests but usually not on the first appointment. Usually you make appointments to come back. ACRONYM ALERT! An EMG, an ECG, and, most dreadfully of all, the CGM. The first two tests don't really bother me. They should but they are nothing like the CGM. I HATE the CGM. The EMG involves some electroshocks on my hands and feet as well as inserted needles (!!!) in my arm and leg muscles, to test for any neuropahthy, while the ECG involves some nice, cold metal things all over my chest and feet and painful blood pressure taking to check my heart, its rate, blood pressure and all that good stuff. Sure, it's scary having these things sticking out of my hands and feet but the CGM just sucks ass. Basically it's a little monitor inserted in my side for 3 days. It looks like a small face hugger a la Alien. The initial insertion stings because they are sticking a needle inside me that will remain there for 3 DAYS. 3 DAYS! Did I mention the 3 days?Afterwards, a huge piece of tape is placed over it to protect the monitor from water, lava and whatever else may come at it. (It's the removal of this clear tape that hurts most of all upon removal.) I'm then given another blood glucose monitor, much different from my own personal one, and instructed to prick my finger before breakfast, lunch, dinner and bedtime as well as write down the times of every meal, details of the meal and when I took my meds. You try writing that down in the restroom of a churrascaria while on a double date with some wonderfully charming folks. Sigh. I know. I'm completely coming off as agitated but I am. My feelings took a beating this weekend. As I said, I was ambushed. Usually I am instructed on when to come back for these tests and this time I wasn't. My guard was down. They asked if I wanted to, I'll give them that, but since I'm not a fan of going to the doctor in the first place, I said yes. I simply didn't want to come back another day and take care of it all if they could do it right at the moment. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I had no support system which meant I was going to have to do this all alone. I was going to drive home alone and in tears. I tried calling my BNC just so I could hear the words you must chill but he was completely unavailable. Then, I texted B who helped me keep my shit together and talked me down from the hysterical tree I was already climbing. So, I totally Cool Hand Luked it and stood there, cracked some jokes cause that is totally one of my ways of coping (DEFLECTION) and took it. I didn't even cry. Well, not until I came home and looked at it in the mirror and felt the sting of the needle.

I completely understand why this has to be, truly I do. But oh man, does it ever make you sad. To sit at the doctor's office with much older people suffering the awful effects of diabetes breaks your heart but it certainly is a major reminder of why I pass on real ice cream, Mexican soda, cake, tortillas, candy and all that good shit and meticulously take my meds, show up at the doctor's office when I don't want to and take it. All those no thanks, I'll pass are worth it. Now, I realize I am far too young for this as well as realize that it's not a genetic thing whatsoever. It just is. Hot damn though. To add insult to injury, I personally know of no other diabetic that has to do the shit I have to do. I guess I should thank my insurance and my doctors but other than the people I see at the endo's, no one I know has to do this. Good/bad? Yes/yes.

So, after having a slightly sad weekend, and being left to figure out what I was having for dinner last night, I called up B. I didn't want to sit home alone and B always brings it and he brought it...at Star Pizza where we talked about our respective diseases and generally commiserated. It was the first time, in a long time, where we spoke about our feelings on them both. Our fears, our wants, the needs and the future, all of it. We're in the same boat about the diabetes and the CML and I'm hoping, we both are, that the day comes soon not only for a cure to them both, but also for the guidance on how best to make change, the kind of change MJ talks about in Man in the Mirror, the kind where you join a walk-a-thon, etc. We'd both like to do something charitable but we're not there yet. So far, we're still adjusting to what has happened as well as the lifestyle change and trying to get to a place where we both feel comfortable talking about it. Most of all, and most importantly, we just want to be as healthy as possible before we move onto the next phase, whatever that may be.

And so, we sat, we talked, we ate, and we spoke about other stuff other than our diseases. And there I learned more about my beloved youngest brother and those years where we all were off enjoying our new adulthood dripping with freedom. It's those first few years where, despite coming to the rescue of B in his many hours of need, that I don't know too much about. The same can be sad of me by him. But, it doesn't matter cause when he called, I answered, I took the hits for him, I gently nudged and I listened much like he did when I had to find someone to help me scoop out the the turmoil eating at me from within. I have said it before and I will say it again, I would die for my brother no questions asked.

So, because we were having some Oprah moments, I failed to take any pictures whatsoever. No food pics, no pics of shoes, no pics of B, nothing. But, I did doodle it.

Behold! B and I and 2 slices of floating pepperoni pizza.

And all is right with the world, for the most part that is. The diabetes has not affected anything with me and my tests are ok. Even a visit to the eye doctor went well despite a slight change in my eyesight. This is all I can hope for; The strength to remember to do what I have to do and the love and support from the people I love most of all.

College Station

The BNC is playing in College Station tonight. It's about 1 1/2 hours away but I have so much to do tomorrow. I have to take my mom to the doctor and then I have to come into work for the 4th consecutive weekend.

Back to the gig, is it safe to say that I would much rather sleep considering what a fun-filled weekend I have planned?