Worry makes the heart grow fonder?

I know it's been forever since I've posted. Since October I have had one more eye surgery, been back to Illinois two more times, and worry about three more things. Ok that's a lie - more like eight million more things.

I have two parents that worry a ridiculous amount (although my dad would never admit it anyone) and one brother that does not, so that leaves their eldest to pick up the worrying slack. I worry about anything possible I can worry about at work, I worry about money (because I am poor and also in debt ... a vicious cycle that I am slowly crawling away from), I worry about my friends, I worry about Sly my cat, I worry about my weight, I worry about school, I worry about my future ... speaking of future, the biggest thing I worry about is AN ENGAGEMENT!

For those of you that don't know me, I have been dating my boyfriend for almost three years. September marks the big day, and he has said that we can take a weekend trip somewhere. Ok. STOP!!!! Jake does not do this. He does not like to go places, visit historical sites, the beach, shopping, anything tourist-y, and he does not like to go on anything labeled "vacation." As a twenty-six year old female who wants to be married and have kids by the time she's thirty my mind immediately says ... hmmm. Interesting. I wonder why my boyfriend - who has said that I will be surprised when I get a ring pulled out in front of me - has agreed to such an idea. I need Miss Marple to help me figure out this mystery ...

... because I don't want to be wrong about this. I do not want to get my hopes up only to have them drown in a misery filled jacuzzi (that we hopefully have in our room). I have gotten my hopes up a few times before in this relationship and each time the gift received was not THE RING. And that was a little disappointing. Ok, a lot disappointing. Needless to say, I have been discussing the case with my best friend Kristine and my mother, both of whom agree on the fact that I need to be patient and that when the time is right it will happen. Which is true, but it will also spurn me into a worrying vortex that has the capability to consume my life.

Because how do you KNOW. I mean how do you really know that the one you are with is the one for you? And how do you sync up the knowing with your partner?

And does Miss Marple have a consulting fee?

As I start writing this I really can't think of a title for this post. So much happened in the past month and eleven days that there is not one phrase that fits. What has happened you might ask? Oh, the one-eyed storyteller will fill you in!




The middle of October Jake and I got to go home for multiple reasons. One of my best friends, (now Mrs. Casey Henry) was getting married the 17th, and since I was still out of work for my eye, Jake decided to take the week before off and we went back for the whole week. A MUCH needed vacation, let me tell you. Besides the fact that it had been six months since I saw everyone in my family except for my mother (I thought my dad was going to start crying, which would have been a first) it had been six months since I felt completely comfortable going anywhere by myself, going out, AND Jake and I got to spend some time apart. Why would I want that? With being dependant on him since August to go anywhere or do anything it was nice to spend some time with friends without him. Or actually going out without him. Not that we don't love each other, but we both know that we do need some space. He gets that sometimes after he gets off work here in Mass., but I have not had that ability in a long time. Plus, all I have here are acquaintances, and back in Illinois I have FRIENDS. Would do anything for you no questions asked friends. I have included some pictures of these wonderful people - just 'cause they need a formal shoutout.

Needless to say it was a fun vacation, but extremely tiring. In a good way. We drove there and back, mostly straight through the way there and straight through the way home and I would not advise to do that unless you wanted to spend time doing it, or just like being stuck in a car for 18 or so hours. It actually felt good coming home to Sly (our cat) and sleeping in our bed instead of on my parent's pull out couch.

I was energized when I came home. I was doing laundry every day, even Jake's, which is a feat because I hate doing laundry and I've always said I'd never do his laundry ... but I had all this energy and I didn't know what to do with it. I mean, I cleaned our hardwood floors every other day! What was happening to me? I was looking forward to going back to work from the surguries and I was the happiest I had been out here in a long time. Then the hammer fell.


My retina detached again. I was/am so frustrated with this eye that I couldn't even cry anymore. Dr. Loporchio gave me three options: 1. Do a victrectomy and put in a gas bubble, which I had done twice previously, 2. Do a victrectomy, remove the lens and put in silicone oil, which would stay in the eye for a year+ and really (hopefully) seal the retina down or 3. Go blind. Jake and I talked it over and went with option 2, and surgery was November 4th. So far the healing is going as well as expected, but to be honest I am scared. I will not be able to see out of this eye for over a year, I have to relearn to drive and the new depth perception I have, and even when the oil is taken out I will most likely lose perhipheral vision. I try not to think about those things because it is so daunting, and I am having trouble with my left "the good" eye because there is a white spot on the cornea. I know that God only gives you what you can handle and yes, Jake and I have grown together as a couple and gotten so close that part of me is thankful for this experience but I am SICK of surgery and SICK of not being able to see and SICK of being dependant on everyone.


But, I have a support group back in Illinois, and a few people here in Massachusetts, that I can lean on. And that's what friends are for.

Ode to Dr. Portugal and God's Waiting Room

No, that's not my eye surgeon/doctor's real name, but for the longest time Jake and I couldn't pronounce "Loporchio" so that's just what we called him. Not to his face of course. The funniest thing about going to visit him is that the waiting room is SO small and it is always full of people. Old people. Don't get me wrong - I have nothing against old people - and most of my extended family is over the age of 70, and my paternal grandma is 97, so it's not weird for me to be around old people, but I think this waiting room is special. Because, as I called it a few weeks ago, it is "God's Waiting Room."

There is always someone that is talking wwwwwaaaaaaaaayyyyyy louder than everyone else. I thought everyone knew not to be extra loud in a waiting room, but apparently some of these Rhode Islanders have missed that memo. Usually it is about something mundane. For example, the lady today was talking about how two days ago she had regular coffee at 6 in the evening instead of decaf and how she was up all night and was really tired the next day. I am not a rude person, but I do NOT care to hear about that, just the same as she probably doesn't care that I played Nintendo the other night and was sad there was not a new Top Chef on.

I like to think that Jake and I break up the monotony of Dr. Portugal's day. I have never seen anyone close to my age in the office, besides the nurses (if they are nurses, the ladies that take his notes. They have scrubs on, so maybe?) We are always in a good mood, we joke around with him, and in general don't need a walker or a hearing aid. Even when Jake joked about whittling me an eye out of wood he realized that he really wasn't going to do it. Overall the appointment went great - everything looks good, the eye is healing well - I'm just waiting for this stupid gas bubble to go down so I can go back work.

Ahh work. I am worried about going back. They might hold the position for me, they might not. Either way they have SOMETHING for me for a year, which is nice. I have no idea when my disability is going to end, and I am definitely worried about that. If/when that happens I am going to be up shit creek without a paddle. I guess I don't really miss work that much, not like I would if I was back in Illinois with the amazing people back there, but I do miss it in the sense that I want something to do, and I would like a full paycheck. I don't know what I would do if I actually lost my job - I have worked for Sam's for over five years now and I am pretty integrated into their culture. I imagine that I would try to find a bartending job somewhere, because I loved doing that part time in Champaign, but I have no idea if anyone is hiring. I guess I shouldn't worry that much - as of right now everything is on hold for me.

For the next week I am anxiously awaiting my glorious return to Champaign and my two favorite bars there - Illini Inn and Tumble Inn. And seeing my family, friends and just being HOME. Somewhere where I just feel comfortable even if I don't know anyone around me. Ahh, Illinois how I miss you. I know this week will go by extremely slow and my time home will go by extremely fast, but I still can't wait! The pic is from the Illini Inn Christmas Party last year. Aww, how I miss these folks!

Fluff what?

I've been in the house for 80,000,000 days.

Ok, so I guess that's a little exaggeration. But I've been unable to go anywhere by myself for almost two full months now and it is getting a little old. I mean, where I live is pretty rural, so I guess I could roam the neighborhood but when I walk, I prefer to walk to a destination. You know, like McDonald's.

However, being stuck inside does open up a realm of possibilites. I peruse the internet, take advantage of the Netflix instant watch program, and watch a lot of Investigative Discovery. While watching the news today (which I normally don't do) one of the big stories was that the "Fluffernutter" might become the official sandwich of Massachusetts. Really? Really.

What is this "Fluffernutter" you might ask? It is marshmellow fluff and peanut butter. On a sandwich. I've had fluff before, in hot chocolate, and I enjoy peanut butter sandwiches, but I don't think I would ever put them together. EVER. Since I am originally from Illinois, I figured why not look up what the official sandwich of Illinois is - just for kicks. All Google turned up was Sandwich, Illinois, which is a town. A little one of just over 6,500 people, Sandwich is in Northern Illinois just Southwest of Chicago.

As of the moment, I would take Sandwich, IL over a fluffernutter. What does marshmellow fluff and peanut butter have to say about a state? I enjoy sweets with my protein? I mean really. The last six months in Mass. have not warmed my heart - not saying it couldn't happen - but the "Fluffernutter" is not going to do it for me.