Just recieved this little gem in my inbox in response to my previous post...
"Did you ever think that Jesus might be blocking your pregnancy because he knows that you having a child would take all of the attention away from you? Something that would appear impossible for you to deal with. Some of us really want to be moms... Some people want to be pregnant so the world will lump more attention on them."
First off, Anonymous, only cowards and fools can't come clean and tell someone off with their real name. Second, I have Statcounter on my blog, so I know WHO you are and WHERE you're writing from (P&G sure employs some assholes these days).
Lastly, your logic is backward and contrary to itself. If you read this blog, or know me at all, you would know I'm an atheist who doesn't believe in any higher spiritual power. Jesus was a man, a carpenter, and I doubt he has any qualms with whether or not I have a child. He's dead. Also, your sentence reads that Jesus DOESN'T want me to have a baby because he WANTS me to have more attention. Is that what you're saying? Or that having a baby will take all the attention off of me? Of course it would! I could give two shits whether or not more 'attention is lumped' on me. All I want is to be a mother. And how in the world does my happiness at having a child have ANYTHING to do with you? Obviously you don't know me at all.
If you'd like to continue this conversation like a grown-up, I'll be waiting. Meanwhile you can hide behind an anonymous moniker knowing that I'm watching every move you make.
Have a nice day.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
The Devil you know.
Met with Lucia (my therapist) on Friday afternoon after a long hiatus.
You, dear reader, know of my general malaise as of late. When I described my frustrations and sadness, she asked me general medical questions, which, I'm sure, she is required to do by law.
She asked, first, what was going on. I immediately burst into tears. I told her of my frustrations at the fact that I was not yet pregnant, and that my old friend Lesley was. Here, a woman with menstrual problems her entire adolescent and adult life, now expecting. I try to so hard to understand, yet it is so random. Why can a person weighing nearly 400 pounds, chain-smoke Lucky's, and practically shoot heroin through their eyes get pregnant, and I can't? I often feel that the universe is just laughing at me. Les is pregnant, my massage therapist is pregnant, lots of Facebook friends are pregnant, and to top it all off, 6 out of 8 mothers in my Kindermusik class: pregnant. Maybe I'm just more susceptible to it all.
Anyway, I said that I was so very happy for Les, for Mel (massage therapist). But the sadness outweighs the happiness for them. Because I'm sad for myself. I want it to be me. How can I lie and not say that?
Lucia asked me pointed questions about how I was sleeping (shitty), concentrating (worse), and motivation (in the bowels of Hell). She looked at me with hooded eyes and said "You know where I'm going with this, don't you?".
"Of course," I say. "I'm depressed".
And of course, I knew I was. Am. But it's different this time. When I was diagnosed in 2001 with depression, I could barely get out of bed. I would lay in bed for hours, just weeping at the misery I felt. This time, it's more like just a bad mood. Like I've had PMS since October. Flustered, exhausted, anxious, pissed, low self-esteem, unmotivated. She calls what I have dysthimia, which is a "low-grade depression". And that is exactly what it feels like. Just sort-of...off.
She asked of my anxiety. I said it was more energy. That I felt without a purpose. (Of course what sucks is that I'm so ready with the purpose of being a mom, but that will change) She said "it sounds like you're missing out on something. You need purpose to thrive. You need your creativity to live". But without motivation, I sit at home and do nothing. I long for Spring, when I can get out to take photos without fear of hypothermia. To garden. To walk my dogs. Lucia says I need an outlet for my creativity, which I knew, but it always somehow means more coming from her.
She gave me four assignments to do before I see her again next week. I won't share them with you. For my eyes only.
The weekend felt different, after seeing her. Because now I knew what I was dealing with. For months, I read these books. Self-help books. Which, in my opinion, are just trash. I tried reading Power of Now (sorry Petra, I couldn't understand it). I tried the Law of Attraction (sorry Dana, when you're in a foul mood to begin with, it just doesn't cut it). And I kept saying to myself "why in Sam Hell can't I pull myself out of this?". Well, it turns out there is a little chemical imbalance going on up top. Which may be why there isn't any action going on in the underbelly. However, Lucia feels if I continue to work on the things I'm doing, I won't need anti-depressants. I think she is right. It doesn't feel like that anyways.
And now I know. I've dealt with twice before. And I beat it. And I will do it again.
You, dear reader, know of my general malaise as of late. When I described my frustrations and sadness, she asked me general medical questions, which, I'm sure, she is required to do by law.
She asked, first, what was going on. I immediately burst into tears. I told her of my frustrations at the fact that I was not yet pregnant, and that my old friend Lesley was. Here, a woman with menstrual problems her entire adolescent and adult life, now expecting. I try to so hard to understand, yet it is so random. Why can a person weighing nearly 400 pounds, chain-smoke Lucky's, and practically shoot heroin through their eyes get pregnant, and I can't? I often feel that the universe is just laughing at me. Les is pregnant, my massage therapist is pregnant, lots of Facebook friends are pregnant, and to top it all off, 6 out of 8 mothers in my Kindermusik class: pregnant. Maybe I'm just more susceptible to it all.
Anyway, I said that I was so very happy for Les, for Mel (massage therapist). But the sadness outweighs the happiness for them. Because I'm sad for myself. I want it to be me. How can I lie and not say that?
Lucia asked me pointed questions about how I was sleeping (shitty), concentrating (worse), and motivation (in the bowels of Hell). She looked at me with hooded eyes and said "You know where I'm going with this, don't you?".
"Of course," I say. "I'm depressed".
And of course, I knew I was. Am. But it's different this time. When I was diagnosed in 2001 with depression, I could barely get out of bed. I would lay in bed for hours, just weeping at the misery I felt. This time, it's more like just a bad mood. Like I've had PMS since October. Flustered, exhausted, anxious, pissed, low self-esteem, unmotivated. She calls what I have dysthimia, which is a "low-grade depression". And that is exactly what it feels like. Just sort-of...off.
She asked of my anxiety. I said it was more energy. That I felt without a purpose. (Of course what sucks is that I'm so ready with the purpose of being a mom, but that will change) She said "it sounds like you're missing out on something. You need purpose to thrive. You need your creativity to live". But without motivation, I sit at home and do nothing. I long for Spring, when I can get out to take photos without fear of hypothermia. To garden. To walk my dogs. Lucia says I need an outlet for my creativity, which I knew, but it always somehow means more coming from her.
She gave me four assignments to do before I see her again next week. I won't share them with you. For my eyes only.
The weekend felt different, after seeing her. Because now I knew what I was dealing with. For months, I read these books. Self-help books. Which, in my opinion, are just trash. I tried reading Power of Now (sorry Petra, I couldn't understand it). I tried the Law of Attraction (sorry Dana, when you're in a foul mood to begin with, it just doesn't cut it). And I kept saying to myself "why in Sam Hell can't I pull myself out of this?". Well, it turns out there is a little chemical imbalance going on up top. Which may be why there isn't any action going on in the underbelly. However, Lucia feels if I continue to work on the things I'm doing, I won't need anti-depressants. I think she is right. It doesn't feel like that anyways.
And now I know. I've dealt with twice before. And I beat it. And I will do it again.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Just things...
I've stayed away from the blog for a while. I haven't wanted to write much as of late, which has bothered me. While in Texas, I had a conversation with Cathy (Dad's wife), who mentioned that she used to read my blog, but has since stopped because she didn't like what she read.
It confuses me, a touch. What she said was that she didn't like reading it because I said hurtful things about people. It really got me thinking about the content on this blog. I felt saddened that I may have hurt her or my father by what is written on this little space of the Internet. While I realize I am quite blunt when I write it, my intent is never to hurt anyone. Most times I'm writing, it's because I'm catching up the loved ones in my life as to what has been happening in my corner of the world; or to vent my frustrations about the QC artistic community, people who upset me, or just whatever is on my mind.
It recalls a post back in October when my family was in visiting from Texas. Most times, when my Dad and Cathy are in town, Rob and I will spend time with them, which means we also must spend time with my fathers sister, my aunt.
It's interesting, the dynamic I have with this woman. While I understand my father and stepmother have one experience with her, the experience I have with her is not the same. She has spent the last 10 or so years making me feel inadequate for many reasons. Some that come to mind are berating me for moving-in with my boyfriend, and quite possibly, having pre-marital sex (which, yes, of course we did. We lived together for 3 years before we got married). Asking my mother, AT OUR WEDDING, if the ceremony "counted" because there was no mention of any higher, spiritual power. And then, this past October, telling me that 28 is old for having a baby (meanwhile, I'm 31). This last comment actually hurt me. Most of the passive-aggressive things she says I try to blow off and ignore because they are small and unintelligible. But this little gem came out of her mouth, prime at the time when Rob and I are trying as hard as we can to conceive, and unable to do so.
I don't think she understands how things sound coming out of her mouth. She appears not to think about what she says before she says them. I don't want to assume (something I'm working VERY hard on), but she doesn't seem to be a happy woman. And if that is the case, I feel sorry for her. But she's like the little kid on the playground, who is bullied by the big kid, so he bullies a kid smaller than him so he can feel better about himself.
It's something I struggle with, whenever Dad and Cathy come to town. I don't mind spending time with my two uncle Jim's (one is her husband, the other her and my Dad's brother). Both men are kind, funny, and pleasant to be with. But in the end, what it comes down to is I just don't like the woman.
Now. This may be what Cathy was talking about. Might not be. But I also feel, since it's my blog, that it's also my prerogative to like or dislike whomever I want.
I'm back seeing Lucia (my therapist) again. It's something I'm ready for and enjoy, because she helps so greatly to put into perspective what I cannot. She talks much about perception. That what I perceive (or assume) is usually not what is really happening. It's just my experience. While in Texas, I had many nice conversations with Cathy. Something she said to me still rings in my mind. I was telling her all the things I worked on in therapy last year. How I dealt with the things I went through in my childhood when it came to my Dad. I told her that I had accepted what happened (my Dad and Mom divorcing during the most important years of my development and how it made me who I was) all those years ago, and that I was okay with the relationship I had with my father. She then said to me something like once I could come to my Dad and say this that and the other to him, then I would REALLY accept it. And she walked away. And what I really wanted to say to her was "nope. That is your perception of what is okay or how I feel. Maybe that's what you'd like to have happen, but I'm okay with it NOT happening. That is what acceptance is". It just really showed me that neither one of them know me much at all. And I accept that, too.
_________________________________________________________
What I've been working on lately is the fact that I feel so blocked. That is the perfect word: blocked. I feel like there is this wall in front of me, and I can't put my finger on what it is. It's standing between me and personal freedom and happiness. It's been hanging around since the summer, which leads Lucia and I to believe that I didn't recover from the stress of this summer i.e., three productions in three months, making an offer on a house, closing, moving, etc.. Because whatever it is, it hinders me from living my best, most happy life. And I want that. But first, I must knock down the wall, and find what is on the other side.
This week, I've gotten in contact with two very old friends. Both are people I met while in college. One was a young lady in the music department at Clarke with me who has fallen on hard times. She has health problems and her life is not where she'd like it to be. I hope that we can connect again soon.
The second is a man I met in the summer of 1996. He was a wonderful friend to me for many years, and someone who I always had a troublesome romantic history with. Over the years, our timing was always just a bit off. Something was always in the way, and we never got together. It is, truly, one of my biggest regrets. Of course I would never, EVER trade my life with Rob for anything. He is the love of my life, and clearly understands who and what I am like no one ever could (and no one else would probably put up with my bullshit). He has taught me what real unconditional love is. But I also know, and am comfortable with, that there is a part of me that will always love this man from my past. That there will always been a connection between us that is misunderstood. And I like that it is misunderstood. Trying to understand would most likely ruin it.
It confuses me, a touch. What she said was that she didn't like reading it because I said hurtful things about people. It really got me thinking about the content on this blog. I felt saddened that I may have hurt her or my father by what is written on this little space of the Internet. While I realize I am quite blunt when I write it, my intent is never to hurt anyone. Most times I'm writing, it's because I'm catching up the loved ones in my life as to what has been happening in my corner of the world; or to vent my frustrations about the QC artistic community, people who upset me, or just whatever is on my mind.
It recalls a post back in October when my family was in visiting from Texas. Most times, when my Dad and Cathy are in town, Rob and I will spend time with them, which means we also must spend time with my fathers sister, my aunt.
It's interesting, the dynamic I have with this woman. While I understand my father and stepmother have one experience with her, the experience I have with her is not the same. She has spent the last 10 or so years making me feel inadequate for many reasons. Some that come to mind are berating me for moving-in with my boyfriend, and quite possibly, having pre-marital sex (which, yes, of course we did. We lived together for 3 years before we got married). Asking my mother, AT OUR WEDDING, if the ceremony "counted" because there was no mention of any higher, spiritual power. And then, this past October, telling me that 28 is old for having a baby (meanwhile, I'm 31). This last comment actually hurt me. Most of the passive-aggressive things she says I try to blow off and ignore because they are small and unintelligible. But this little gem came out of her mouth, prime at the time when Rob and I are trying as hard as we can to conceive, and unable to do so.
I don't think she understands how things sound coming out of her mouth. She appears not to think about what she says before she says them. I don't want to assume (something I'm working VERY hard on), but she doesn't seem to be a happy woman. And if that is the case, I feel sorry for her. But she's like the little kid on the playground, who is bullied by the big kid, so he bullies a kid smaller than him so he can feel better about himself.
It's something I struggle with, whenever Dad and Cathy come to town. I don't mind spending time with my two uncle Jim's (one is her husband, the other her and my Dad's brother). Both men are kind, funny, and pleasant to be with. But in the end, what it comes down to is I just don't like the woman.
Now. This may be what Cathy was talking about. Might not be. But I also feel, since it's my blog, that it's also my prerogative to like or dislike whomever I want.
I'm back seeing Lucia (my therapist) again. It's something I'm ready for and enjoy, because she helps so greatly to put into perspective what I cannot. She talks much about perception. That what I perceive (or assume) is usually not what is really happening. It's just my experience. While in Texas, I had many nice conversations with Cathy. Something she said to me still rings in my mind. I was telling her all the things I worked on in therapy last year. How I dealt with the things I went through in my childhood when it came to my Dad. I told her that I had accepted what happened (my Dad and Mom divorcing during the most important years of my development and how it made me who I was) all those years ago, and that I was okay with the relationship I had with my father. She then said to me something like once I could come to my Dad and say this that and the other to him, then I would REALLY accept it. And she walked away. And what I really wanted to say to her was "nope. That is your perception of what is okay or how I feel. Maybe that's what you'd like to have happen, but I'm okay with it NOT happening. That is what acceptance is". It just really showed me that neither one of them know me much at all. And I accept that, too.
_________________________________________________________
What I've been working on lately is the fact that I feel so blocked. That is the perfect word: blocked. I feel like there is this wall in front of me, and I can't put my finger on what it is. It's standing between me and personal freedom and happiness. It's been hanging around since the summer, which leads Lucia and I to believe that I didn't recover from the stress of this summer i.e., three productions in three months, making an offer on a house, closing, moving, etc.. Because whatever it is, it hinders me from living my best, most happy life. And I want that. But first, I must knock down the wall, and find what is on the other side.
This week, I've gotten in contact with two very old friends. Both are people I met while in college. One was a young lady in the music department at Clarke with me who has fallen on hard times. She has health problems and her life is not where she'd like it to be. I hope that we can connect again soon.
The second is a man I met in the summer of 1996. He was a wonderful friend to me for many years, and someone who I always had a troublesome romantic history with. Over the years, our timing was always just a bit off. Something was always in the way, and we never got together. It is, truly, one of my biggest regrets. Of course I would never, EVER trade my life with Rob for anything. He is the love of my life, and clearly understands who and what I am like no one ever could (and no one else would probably put up with my bullshit). He has taught me what real unconditional love is. But I also know, and am comfortable with, that there is a part of me that will always love this man from my past. That there will always been a connection between us that is misunderstood. And I like that it is misunderstood. Trying to understand would most likely ruin it.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Week in Review
Tuesday, December 30
After arriving in the city around noon, we attempted to gain admission to Shedd Aquarium. For years, I've been wanting to see this amazing gem of Chicago. However, when we arrived, there was a line with a 2-hour wait! Due to the insane cold (and the fact that I had to pee from a double-tall Starbucks latte), we decided on The Field Museum instead, which was another Chicago institution I had yet to see in my 31 years.
Sue, the T-Rex at the Field Museum.
Around 4:30, we were a bit tired from all the walking and made our way to the Sheraton Towers, our residence for our only night in the city. Now when I booked this 4-star hotel on Hotwire.com a few months back, little did I know just how incredibly posh this hotel would be. After the nicest service from a Michelle Obama look-alike, we adjourned to the 26th floor and our room with an incredible view of the city. We dined at a lovely local pub called PJ Clarkes at the suggestion of our concierge, then walked down Mag Mile with a hot chocolate to keep us warm. We then got to experience the Apple Store, where we played Guitar Hero before returning to our room and promptly crashing after a long day.
Wednesday, December 31
We awoke to a beautiful, yet cold morning in the city. After breakfast and checking out, we adjourned down to Water Tower Place, where we were sticker-shocked at the insane prices on regular items you would find at any mall in the Midwest. We walked around Neiman-Marcus, where I drooled over $700 Manolo Blahniks (someday, I WILL own a pair of these. It's the Carrie Bradshaw in me) and was snubbed by salespeople who stared at my handbag and shoes to see if I was rich enough to shop in their store. We ended our tour of the city by heading up to the 94th floor of the John Hancock Building to take in the really cool multi-media tour of the Observatory.
We then headed out to O'Hare for our 6pm flight to Dallas. It was sort of eerie, driving out there, as there was hardly any traffic (cars going in to the city from O'Hare were backed up for miles) on the way to the airport. At a surprisingly dead O'Hare, we settled in for an hour or so by playing Mad Libs and eating McDonalds before our flight started boarding at 5:45pm. I don't think, ever in my life, that a plane started boarding 15 minutes early. We took off at 6:35pm, just 5 minutes after our scheduled departure time. I'm still amazed that a flight actually took-off when it was supposed to!
We flew on a beautiful 777, where each seat had its own personal in-flight on-demand tv with movies, tv shows, music stations and video games! I listened to 80's music while playing Solataire. Needless to say, it was a comfortable and fast 2 hour flight because of the amazing plane we were on!
We arrived at DFW 30 minutes early, where Cathy (my Dad's wife) met us at baggage claim. It was a beautiful 50 degree evening (a nice improvement from the 18 degree day we left in Illinois) in Texas, and we headed back to Dad and Cathy's house to freshen up before heading to a New Years Eve shindig down the street. A newly-married Tom and Melinda (engaged for 12 years!!) hosted us at their lovely home with their three adorable black labs Barney, Chance and Chief. We rang in the New Year nearly asleep, then headed back to the house to snuggle with my Dad and Cathy's five (count them, FIVE) dogs. Maggie the Golden, Max the mix-breed, Toby the black lab, Hannah the beautiful shepherd-mix, and Mo the little one.
Tom, Deb and Rob ringing in the New Year
Rob and Toby
Mo
Max
Thursday, January 1
New Years Day was spent doing nothing but sitting in our pajamas and watching TV. Enough said.
Friday, January 2
Rob and I headed north to Denton to visit Rob's favorite used bookstore, Recycled Books. We had lunch in a little diner on the square before heading back to North Richland Hills. That evening, Dad and Cathy took us to Chef Point Cafe, a gourmet restaurant housed inside a gas station. I'm not kidding! The restaurant was featured in Paula Deen's magazine, and a few days after we had dinner, the Food Network was due in to do a special in the amazing food found inside. Apparently, the chef wanted to open a restaurant but couldn't get the funding from the bank. He could, however, get the loan for a gas station. And thus, history was made. We ate amazing food in a gas station. Who would've thought...
Saturday, January 3
It was a beautiful, third day in a row in Texas, with sun and 75 degree temps. Rob and I headed down to Sundance Square in downtown Fort Worth, where we dined on sushi for dinner, before taking in the hilarious dueling piano show at Pete's Dueling Pianos.
Sunday, January 4
The day of all days... the visit to the infamous Babe's. Followers of this blog know full well of the wonder that is Babe's. All-you-can-eat family style fried chicken, taters, corn, biscuits. I'll let the picture say everything.
Monday, January 5
Our last full day in town was cold and rainy, so Rob and I headed out to Genghis Grill for lunch, then a day of window shopping before spending the evening with my sister Abby. We had an awesome visit, chatting about this and that. And captured a pic of the three of us, the first in probably 15 years.
Abby, Jake and I
After arriving in the city around noon, we attempted to gain admission to Shedd Aquarium. For years, I've been wanting to see this amazing gem of Chicago. However, when we arrived, there was a line with a 2-hour wait! Due to the insane cold (and the fact that I had to pee from a double-tall Starbucks latte), we decided on The Field Museum instead, which was another Chicago institution I had yet to see in my 31 years.
Sue, the T-Rex at the Field Museum.
Around 4:30, we were a bit tired from all the walking and made our way to the Sheraton Towers, our residence for our only night in the city. Now when I booked this 4-star hotel on Hotwire.com a few months back, little did I know just how incredibly posh this hotel would be. After the nicest service from a Michelle Obama look-alike, we adjourned to the 26th floor and our room with an incredible view of the city. We dined at a lovely local pub called PJ Clarkes at the suggestion of our concierge, then walked down Mag Mile with a hot chocolate to keep us warm. We then got to experience the Apple Store, where we played Guitar Hero before returning to our room and promptly crashing after a long day.
Wednesday, December 31
We awoke to a beautiful, yet cold morning in the city. After breakfast and checking out, we adjourned down to Water Tower Place, where we were sticker-shocked at the insane prices on regular items you would find at any mall in the Midwest. We walked around Neiman-Marcus, where I drooled over $700 Manolo Blahniks (someday, I WILL own a pair of these. It's the Carrie Bradshaw in me) and was snubbed by salespeople who stared at my handbag and shoes to see if I was rich enough to shop in their store. We ended our tour of the city by heading up to the 94th floor of the John Hancock Building to take in the really cool multi-media tour of the Observatory.
We then headed out to O'Hare for our 6pm flight to Dallas. It was sort of eerie, driving out there, as there was hardly any traffic (cars going in to the city from O'Hare were backed up for miles) on the way to the airport. At a surprisingly dead O'Hare, we settled in for an hour or so by playing Mad Libs and eating McDonalds before our flight started boarding at 5:45pm. I don't think, ever in my life, that a plane started boarding 15 minutes early. We took off at 6:35pm, just 5 minutes after our scheduled departure time. I'm still amazed that a flight actually took-off when it was supposed to!
We flew on a beautiful 777, where each seat had its own personal in-flight on-demand tv with movies, tv shows, music stations and video games! I listened to 80's music while playing Solataire. Needless to say, it was a comfortable and fast 2 hour flight because of the amazing plane we were on!
We arrived at DFW 30 minutes early, where Cathy (my Dad's wife) met us at baggage claim. It was a beautiful 50 degree evening (a nice improvement from the 18 degree day we left in Illinois) in Texas, and we headed back to Dad and Cathy's house to freshen up before heading to a New Years Eve shindig down the street. A newly-married Tom and Melinda (engaged for 12 years!!) hosted us at their lovely home with their three adorable black labs Barney, Chance and Chief. We rang in the New Year nearly asleep, then headed back to the house to snuggle with my Dad and Cathy's five (count them, FIVE) dogs. Maggie the Golden, Max the mix-breed, Toby the black lab, Hannah the beautiful shepherd-mix, and Mo the little one.
Tom, Deb and Rob ringing in the New Year
Rob and Toby
Mo
Max
Thursday, January 1
New Years Day was spent doing nothing but sitting in our pajamas and watching TV. Enough said.
Friday, January 2
Rob and I headed north to Denton to visit Rob's favorite used bookstore, Recycled Books. We had lunch in a little diner on the square before heading back to North Richland Hills. That evening, Dad and Cathy took us to Chef Point Cafe, a gourmet restaurant housed inside a gas station. I'm not kidding! The restaurant was featured in Paula Deen's magazine, and a few days after we had dinner, the Food Network was due in to do a special in the amazing food found inside. Apparently, the chef wanted to open a restaurant but couldn't get the funding from the bank. He could, however, get the loan for a gas station. And thus, history was made. We ate amazing food in a gas station. Who would've thought...
Saturday, January 3
It was a beautiful, third day in a row in Texas, with sun and 75 degree temps. Rob and I headed down to Sundance Square in downtown Fort Worth, where we dined on sushi for dinner, before taking in the hilarious dueling piano show at Pete's Dueling Pianos.
Sunday, January 4
The day of all days... the visit to the infamous Babe's. Followers of this blog know full well of the wonder that is Babe's. All-you-can-eat family style fried chicken, taters, corn, biscuits. I'll let the picture say everything.
Monday, January 5
Our last full day in town was cold and rainy, so Rob and I headed out to Genghis Grill for lunch, then a day of window shopping before spending the evening with my sister Abby. We had an awesome visit, chatting about this and that. And captured a pic of the three of us, the first in probably 15 years.
Abby, Jake and I
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