In an atomic age.

I was going to post some random photos this week, maybe lots of screenshots from Twitter, a few things I'm loving when it comes to products...

But this is more applicable. I'm apprehensive about a lot right now. The list is non-exhaustive, actually. 

I keep coming back to this quote. C.S. Lewis was a great thinker and a gifted writer. He had been an atheist for part of his life and then became one of the most well-known Christian writers and layspeakers. 

Maybe you've seen this floating around the internet lately already. Living in Europe after WWII, Lewis had some thoughts, guys. We can easily relate this to modern times. Specifically, when it comes to coronavirus...if a person is still believing they can outrun a virus they are likely already immune to, if they believe keeping masks on two year olds is the Answer, or if they think Science is equal to Respect is equal to Caring is equal to Being a Good Human..none of that makes sense. If vaccine passports and perma-masking makes you feel safe, how will you continue on? When will it end? 

And just when it comes to the basics of life being plagued with disasters: if you aren't nodding your head in agreement with this piece, you don't actually agree with the sovereignty of God. 

I think about this essay a lot. In fact, I'd like to pass it out on the street. 

"In an atomic age"

In one way we think a great deal too much of the atomic bomb. ‘How are we to live in an atomic age?’ I am tempted to reply: ‘Why, as you would have lived in the sixteenth century when the plague visited London almost every year, or as you would have lived in a Viking age when raiders from Scandinavia might land and cut your throat at night; or indeed, as you are already living in an age of cancer, an age of syphilis, an age of paralysis, an age of air raids, an age of railway accidents, an age of motor accidents.

In other words, do not let us begin by exaggerating the novelty of our situation. Believe me, dear sir or madam, you and all whom you love were already sentenced to death before the atomic bomb was invented… It is perfectly ridiculous to go about whimpering and drawing long faces because the scientists have added one more chance of painful and premature death to a world which already bristled with such chances and in which death itself was not a chance at all, but a certainty.

If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things—praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds.

What the atomic bomb has really done is to remind us forcibly of the sort of world we are living in and which, during the prosperous period before, we were beginning to forget. And this reminder is, so far as it goes, a good thing. We have been waked from a pretty dream, and now we can begin to talk about realities.

It is our business to live by our own law not by fears: to follow, in private or in public life, the law of love and temperance even when they seem to be suicidal, and not the law of competition and grab, even when they seem to be necessary to our own survival. For it is part of our spiritual law never to put survival first: not even the survival of our species. We must resolutely train ourselves to feel that the survival of Man on this Earth, much more of our own nation or culture or class, is not worth having unless it can be had by honorable and merciful means.

Nothing is more likely to destroy a species or a nation than a determination to survive at all costs. Those who care for something else more than civilization are the only people by whom civilization is at all likely to be preserved. Those who want Heaven most have served Earth best. Those who love man less than God do most for man.

In which Google sends me a warning

I'm embarrassed to admit how reliant I am on Google when it comes to storage. I keep all my photos, all my old teaching materials, everything...in that particular drive. It's just easy. I'm not held hostage to a device or the Cloud. Everything is tied to my emails (plural) instead.

I got an email last weekend saying that I was coming up on the max capacity of my free storage. Since I went to Google to avoid iCloud storage fees, I didn't want to start paying if I didn't have to.

Every photo I've taken since 2012 is loaded into my Photos. Periodically, I go in and clean out screenshots and whatnot. I do get lazy about it, obviously. 

So, I randomly picked a year in the sidebar timeline and went in to start deleting. 

I got 2015. 

I noticed I had a ton of recipe photos with like 15 pictures for one food item, when one had already been published on the blog long ago. Delete. I had lots...LOTS...of skincare selfies from when I was selling Rodan and Fields. DELETE. Lots of pictures that were doubles from Instagram or collages. D-E-L-E-T-E. 

It's embarrassing, really, how much time I had to spend doing this the other day. 

After spending time glancing through 2015, all I really came away with was that it wasn't a great year. 

Do not recommend.

It left a bad taste in my mouth.

I can't even explain what was terrible about it? I didn't love the school I was working at...it was a stark contrast to the previous 4 years I'd spent teaching. Scott was gone for large chunks of time, including February-July and then October and November. I felt very unsure of myself in Colorado Springs. I never quite felt like I belonged there. Living on a 35 acre plot, I felt like we were constantly battling against nature too. Snakes, tumbleweeds, hail, floods. There were no fires that year, but those would come later on. 

And there were the fertility treatments. We did four cycles of Clomid between the end of 2014 and the end of 2015. Many people complain of Clomid making them sick. For me, it just made food taste bad. It took everything I had to put recipes on the blog that year, but I kept at it because it gave me a goal to achieve. I look at the food photos now and gag a little bit, remembering how things just did not taste good (to me...there was nothing wrong with the recipes I shared LOL).

Anyway, it's weird the way some years just kind of aren't great from beginning to end. They weren't all bad moments, obviously. Just overall, it falls onto the end of the spectrum as being a year that I just couldn't love. 

I think, truly, this is because 2014 was a really regrettable year (It wasn't all bad, it was just hard..I made a good friend, had some fun in Colorado, and learned a lot about remodeling a house that year. We also got Jett in 2014.) and I was determined to make 2015 look how I wanted it to look. It was basically the year I learned I had no control. 2016 was a full-deployment year so I just made do and was in survival mode. 2017 was the year *almost* everything went wrong and 2018 was stressful as could be but incredibly humbling and a gift, overall. 2019 was...whatever. 

2020 wasn't that bad! And unless you lost a loved one or a livelihood, it wasn't bad for you either.

2021 is fine so far. 

2012 and 2013 were my years of enormous personal growth, if you want to backtrack that far. 

My point is: I spent an hour scanning, curating, and deleting photos from 2015 last weekend and I really think it kind of ruined the whole week that followed. There's a legitimate reason why looking back into our own digital footprint or, don't even go there: looking through someone else's archives, is a terrible comparison trap that really should be avoided. 

Maybe I'll start deleting from 2016 next? I like to go to the pre-Wells days because I can't bear to delete even the outtakes of him. 

Weekending + 7 years + 9/11

This weekend I...

...graded papers to get ready for the onslaught of questions I will get about midterm reports.

...fixed something with duct tape, as we are at that point in a deployment where shit randomly will begin to break. 4 deployments in, and I'm still not ready for this. 

...watched some TV. I started Supernatural. I already consider this to be a terrible mistake. I foresee nothing getting done for the next 218 episodes. It's not that it's THAT good. It's just good enough to hold my attention. 

...cleaned a little. 

...went to the grocery store and nowhere else and enjoyed that very much. 

Cheers to Monday and a very busy week ahead!

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I'm not trying to get super deep here...just a thought I had...

Today is our 7th wedding anniversary and I reflect on this almost every year by remembering September 11th. Our rehearsal dinner was on the 11th, and it's easy to set aside what happened on that day as we go through our day-to-day life. However, it quite literally affects everything Scott and I have ever done or ever will do. He has been deployed for over half of our marriage. It is our reality. While I may not have lost someone on 9/11, I had no idea that it would mean all these things for my future as I sat in drivers' ed when the attacks came on the news on 9/11/01. 

9/11/09

Things Military Wives Shouldn't Actually Say

This graphic is hard to see because I just took a screenshot when I saw a fellow military wife post it on Facebook a year ago. This is the original site, which is a bit easier to read than the text that was posted on Facebook. 

There are things we think and things we say. Lists like this are prolific on the internet. Whether or not this list is written for fun, vocalizing thoughts like this is exactly what gives military wives a bad name. I have my few years of experience so I feel, honestly, that I'm qualified to speak on the subject. I'd give specifics about what that experience has entailed but this is a public blog and OPSEC is important. I will say that, in 7 years, we've spent exactly half of our marriage apart. 

1. I am a dependent. I like that I know I'm taken care of. So if you don't want to fall under the category of "dependent", be prepared to give everything up (medical and commissary privileges, etc.).
2. Being a military wife is not easy, but the last thing I would do is try to compare it to being in the army. Have you seen the signs that say "Wife: hardest job in the army"? NO.  It's a lifestyle that you get used to. I don't deploy. I don't keep crazy hours.
3. I think any human being would feel this way sometimes.
4. I have a career. I don't want to say "it's not that hard" but...buck up and find something (anything!) to do that will keep you busy and is semi-enjoyable.
5. This is valid.
6 and 7. Hmmm....let's not call people names. It will get you nowhere and will greatly affect the way people view your spouse.
8. I think I hit a point, around age 26 or so, when I realized life wasn't fair and neither was how things worked in the military. I don't think I would ever complain enough to cause Scott to say that to me. I mean, I complain about lots of stuff, but rarely throw a fit because he has to work late or something because there's nothing he can do about it.
9. This sounds valid enough, I suppose, but sounds a little power-trippy too. I'm sure your husband doesn't need you saying that you are *the* parent.
10. The dogs love Scott and tolerate me. I'm used to it.
11. This is valid.
12. It's nice to be noticed and appreciated by anyone. But.. I'm not even sure what to say here.
13. This is valid. But some of the loveliest people I've met have been military wives. You won't click everywhere or with everyone, no matter the circumstances.
14. This is valid.
15. Let's not throw stones.  Maybe we could all use some PT. ("Stones" as in a measurement of weight...get it? ha   ha    ha)
16. If there's a 0.000001% happy feeling, it's because the stress leading up to a deployment becomes so awful that I'm just ready to have the worst, first days over with already. I can't imagine saying "You're making me mad. Just deploy or go into the field or something."
17. This is valid.
18. This is valid too. A lot of this comes from me thinking I don't know where/if I'm going to work if we move again. And I'm, I admit, used to being a dependent.

Thoughts? How do you feel about lists like this? 
Stereotyping at its finest?

I won't compare your baby to my dog...

...because I understand that babies and dogs are different types of mammals.

(This is written with an air of satire, but not really...take it how you will.)

Jett wouldn't pose for me. Scout did, though.

Articles like this one are confusing.  By reading the comments, I can tell that people are genuinely wondering if it's a satire. I don't think it is. I think it's just a mom writing about how she feels. But the fact that many assume it to be a satire is pretty telling.

I came across it because one of my Facebook friends "liked" it and also liked the HuffPost.  I generally don't take much that they say seriously. They'll hire anyone.

Most of the comments on the "article" are along the lines of So people without kids aren't allowed to be tired? Aren't allowed to feel/be broke? Aren't allowed to be busy? 

But I'll tell you why I won't compare your baby to my dog: I'm a learned individual and I understand that dogs and babies are, in fact, different species. Both living things are choices that we decide to care for, but that's where the similarities might have to end. They both require an extreme amount of care, but in different ways. For example, you can leave a dog alone most of the day and you can't do that with a child. You can also take a child with you places that a puppy cannot go. You can't leave your kid in the car, you can leave your dog in the car (temperature permitting), and so on.

There are some similarities. I've taken sick days to take dogs to the vet or take care of them in case of emergencies. I hear you can do that with kids too (note the satirical tone).

**This is written to the plural "you". There is no one in my mind as I write this (childless, yet still tired) at 10pm on a weeknight.**

However, I won't tell you I "know how you feel" when you mention your baby/child/children, because I don't have a child to talk about. But because you talk about your child a lot, I draw on the only comparison I know: taking care of a puppy.

It's ALL I have to add to the conversation.

If you don't want to hear the occasional puppy tale (tail...ha ha), don't trap me in a childcare conversation. Because puppy talk is all you can possibly get out of me. I'm just trying to relate and keep conversation flowing. But I've never said "I know how you feel", because I don't.

The next thing that will happen though comes with the territory of my job...if you have a child and you want to talk about your kid/kids all the time, please don't hate me if I talk about the 30 kids I spend all day with. I don't want to talk about my job all the time. I really don't. I spend enough time there and I rarely talk about it at home. But if you're talking about your kids, it's (again) ALL I have to add to the conversation.

Unless you want me to talk about my dogs.

Tiny Houses

Have you seen the documentary Tiny on Netflix?

We first watched it well over a year ago but, when we had a friend visiting over Christmas break, Scott told him about it and we watched it again.

The idea is that we don't need STUFF.  Of course, many of us subscribe to this theory and we don't like excess stuff everywhere and purging old clothes, toys, and books feels good.  However, the point of this documentary is not only that we don't need excess stuff, we don't need excess space.  Imagine what you could do if you don't need to maintain, decorate, furnish, and pay the utilities for a 2,000 square foot house.  The documentary is about why we can become happier and more fulfilled if we focus on aspects of life other than having a big house, with lots of stuff, and the high-stress job that pays for it all.  

Now.  Scott would love to build a tiny house.  I would think it could be a fun experiment and would like to try a year of living that way.  We think the business model of, perhaps, manufacturing tiny houses could be pretty profitable.  Especially since we've lived in those crunchy states of Alaska and Colorado.  There's a market for it.  

This got me thinking about the comparison trap, why we insist on big houses, why we feel the need to fill them with stuff, etc.  

Bear with me.  This is a long post.  But I can't get these thoughts out of my head, so here we are. 

Our first house in Alaska was about 1300 square feet and that included the garage.  3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, open living-room/dining room/kitchen, and the garage was only one of those 1.5 car varieties.  It was pretty perfect when we first moved in, but as we amassed army gear and hunting stuff and some tools, we quickly ran out of space.  

17 months later, we moved into a 2600 square foot house.  

House #2 (pictures taken from an old camera phone)

Like this space was kinda wasted, right?

Extra living room we NEVER used.

Let me explain why we had such a house. Pickings were slim in the rental market that winter, and I liked the layout and Scott liked the 3 car garage.  Because we moved to a new town, the house was the same rent price as the former much smaller one.  It wasn't really an adjustment in that sense.  We just could finally spread out.  Well, what happens when you have more space?  You get more stuff.  While we didn't buy new furniture, we did end up with more tools, hunting stuff, a snowmobile, a cataraft, etc.  

The house had an eat-in kitchen, dining room, two living rooms, 3 bedrooms, 2.5 bathrooms, and a loft.  It was way too big for us.  It was also basic builder-grade, so there was nothing special or unique about it.  It fit our needs though and we were more or less happy there.  We totally were aware the entire time that it was ridiculously big.  We needed that garage though.  The driveway was a pain to shovel and yard annoying to mow, but hey.  It worked for 2+ years. 

We intentionally downsized when we moved to Missouri for these reasons.  We also rented there sight-unseen.  They weren't sure how many square feet it was (ugh, Realty Executives), but it was a ranch with a full-sized basement/foundation.  The basement was unfinished, but it was perfect for a storage area and workspace.  The upstairs was the perfect size for the two of us.  We had a guest room, a room for Scott's army stuff, and 2 bathrooms.  My biggest issue with that place was the white carpet.  Also, we didn't like the street we were on (a hill) and the smallish driveway.  The 2-car garage was quickly overrun because, again, we didn't have room to spread out.  The rent was cheaper than it was in Alaska, but that's to be expected.  It was Missouri. 

So.  Then it came time to buy a house.  This is where ideals clashed.  Scott wanted a house with good bones that he could improve upon and I was secretly craving "the American dream".  

Source

However, I knew that a basic, builder-grade house wasn't something I really wanted.  We'd lived in that from 2011-2013 and it was annoyingly…basic.  Also, land. Owning land was a priority.  Here's the post on why we bought below our means.  It sums up things.

Sometimes I selfishly feel like this house is too small.  I mean, I don't have two living rooms anymore.  And then I look at sense:  We have 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms (one unfinished), a full basement with 12 foot ceilings, and who ever told me I needed to live in the kind of houses I see all over this town?  We've spent more time adding the finishes we want to this house and making it feel like our home, compared to worrying about how many square feet it is.  Let it be known that I only feel like this house is too small after I visit someone else's cavernous (well-decorated) home. I've been in some houses that are just big and new and not necessarily well-decorated or special in any way, and that makes me happy with what I have. (I'm tracking how vain and ridiculous this sounds.) 

This could be something we picked up in Alaska too.  Most people I knew there loved and appreciated their homes (bought or rented) and weren't concerned about having the biggest or the best.  People in Alaska were like that.  They were more into being outside and stuff.  Plus, houses there were expensive.  Prime locations in Anchorage were millions of dollars.  

I think the comparison trap told us we need big houses.  Why are people spending $350,000-400,000 on houses that are 22 feet away from their neighbors?  Why is that considered the ideal?  Why is that the American dream?  The American dream used to be known as manifest destiny.  Expanding over the land, not expanding our square footage.  Why is it that many people believe they've "made it" when they have a $2,000 a month mortgage and 2.5 kids and must work at jobs that run them ragged in order to afford it all?  

I don't know the answer to any of this, so I'm just throwing those questions out there.  Obviously, living  in a housing development isn't a bad thing.  I mean, I did it for 5 years.  (The housing developments around Colorado Springs are fascinating microcosms if you look at how they're set up though.  I'm never seen expensive houses so close together.) I'm asking why is the end game a giant house in a housing development? What tells us we, as a human being, need to accomplish that in order to be a grown-up?  Why can't we be happy in an apartment building? The author of The Happiness Project is.  Is it because House Hunters and My First Place tell us that we need to move "up" in the world by expanding our space into what we can barely afford? Again, I don't know the answers.  I'm asking the question.  

We've watched a lot of foreign t.v. shows lately and I'm always startled by how seemingly small and cramped their homes appear compared to ours.  It's all relative and we're just used to the American ideal, I suppose.  Look at the Home Alone house.  Those were rich people. Of course their house was big.  Why do we assume we all need one too?

Anywho.  As someone who has lived in, paid the rent for, and tried to decorate several houses over the last few years, I find myself pondering these things as I watched Tiny.  I highly recommend it if you have Netflix.  

What I really think about Robin Thicke

Scott doesn't like the song Blurred Lines.  He said it just sends a really bad message.  I like it for its face value.  I don't read into the lyrics.  I think it says a lot for our society that it's being played on the Today show as the song of the summer.  I swear I hear it every morning as going-to-commercial music.

Here's the thing: Robin Thicke has been around for years.  He's always been doing music like this.  Really.  Google him.  And he's been with his wife for 20 years.  That's more than I can say for these Hollywood couples who are dating/engaged/married for a total of 2-3 years and then decide it's "just not for them" (Hi, Olivia Wilde and Zoe Deschanel).

I'm not defending Robin Thicke.  I'm just giving you a few facts. I don't really care.  I didn't watch the VMAs and I haven't watched MTV since I was 21 because...it's MTV.  Really, I don't care.  Dexter and Breaking Bad were on that night.

I'd just like to bring up a very important point that occurred to me during my 16 hours of driving over the weekend: a Chris Brown song came on the radio.

We, as a society, still listen to Chris Brown's music, don't we?  We still give him fame and glory and admiration?  We still buy his songs on iTunes and go to his concerts?  He BEAT his girlfriend and put her in the hospital.  There's hospital photos and police reports.  There was a court case and a public apology.  He received no real punishment and then won a Grammy 3 years later.  He also broke a window on GMA when someone asked him a question he didn't like (Can you say "was-never-disciplined-as-a-child"?).

So, if we think we need to keep vilifying Robin Thicke, maybe we can do that after we kick Chris Brown out of the music industry.  Just a thought.

from pinterest

Blogging with intention

Do you remember why you started blogging?

I started blogging to share our life in Alaska.  It made sense at the time, and I never expected it to become such a large part of my life.

But somewhere along the line, I forgot why I share.  I want to share the little stuff.  The stuff I want to remember.  I usually post what I think may be of interest to you crazies who keep coming back (I say that with love), but there's also stuff that I specifically want to remember.  I've been intentionally taking a lot of pictures with my phone this last week or so because there's so much I don't want to forget.

For example ^ 

Every week, "K" brings in Rice Krispy treats for the other kids.  Her dad brings in 3 boxes at lunchtime.  She passes them out and always makes sure I get one.

How awesome is she?  How awesome is her father for doing that and for coming in once a week to eat lunch with her?  It's things like this that I don't want to forget.

A lot of my favorite posts are the completely, totally random ones.  

The ones that don't fit with anything else.  

This one on my immediate reaction to this year's first snowfall.  

Or my first Let's Talk post from August.  I remember I got the idea for it just because I had so many random thoughts shooting through my head on a Saturday (when I took the delightfully sunny picture) and I had no one to tell them to.  Necessity is the mother of invention I guess.  So now I tell you random things at least once a week. 

If I go back and read this post from April 2012, I remember what deployment was like.  It's like I'm right back there again, and it makes me so grateful for where I am now.

This post that informs you about Alaska is something I'll always have to look back on to remember this "special" time.  (lol)

I'm so happy I documented some of the stuff I did with the kids last year.  Last year was my favorite year when it came to teaching.  I never want to forget it.  (History, exasperation, and how wonderful they really were.  Oh, and we can't forget that trip to Seward.)

I think I get caught up in the "Oh, I need a new recipe!" or "Ahhhh, I need to find something funny to post!", but that's not why I started blogging.  

Natalie wrote a post about how your readers want to read "you".  Not giveaways, not guest posts, not link-ups, but "you".  Because, after all, that's why they're there in the first place!  

Why did you start blogging?  Do you ever go back and re-read your old posts?  

Sharing at Random Wednesday and Wednesday Walkabout

Learning

In the last week, I've learned a few things.

41 degrees is an amazing feeling.

Pants: JCP, Scarf: Land's End, Boots: Steve Madden, Shirt: Gap

Pho does not taste good when re-heated.

Thai Iced Tea has some pretty unhealthy ingredients in it.  Scott loves the stuff.  It's kind of strange that I, with my crazy sweet tooth, do not, though it does kind of taste like a milkshake.

I'd rather just drink a milkshake.

The more movies I see Jason Bateman in, the more I like him.

All of his characters seem so relatable.  We really liked Identity Thief.

Also, I'm trying really hard to let the little things go.  The fact that they want to start showing our house  (it will be listed for sale soon), the fact that the DVR will only record 2 shows at once, the fact that the kitchen faucet is broken, the fact that the Keurig and the washing machine are both acting up..it's all so insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

Over the last 3 years, I've learned to let the little stuff at work/school go, but I have trouble with the real life stuff. It's the every day annoyances that bring me down.

So I can't say I've learned to let the little things go...I'm learning.

How about you? Is there anything you're learning right now?  

Sharing at Truth Tuesday

Why we won't do a Carnival Cruise again

We aren't Carnival Cruise people.

I’m going to explain why.

I’m writing this for a few reasons.

1. Its minimal entertainment value.  We have horrible luck when we travel.  Like, Home Alone style luck (But we never lose our luggage! *knock, knock*).  And I don't want to forget any of it.

2. I’m sending this to Carnival Cruise Lines.  They need to know why I didn't have a good time.  It’s not slander.  It’s true.

3. I’m hoping that Google Stats won’t fail me now.  If I can get people to hit on my blog while searching for “Carnival Cruises” and that means I can save someone like myself from this experience, I want to do it.  

Here’s the first lesson I learned on a cruise ship:

98% of the people on the ship were aboard for the “free” food.  1.99% were children.  That other .01% was us. 

Remember those scenes at the end of Wall-E?  Where they show the spaceship the humans flee to after they’ve destroyed Earth?  Where they lie in lounge chairs drinking big-gulp-style sodas?  And they can’t move themselves under their own muscle power because they are so physically large that such exertion is actually not possible?

That is what our cruise ship was like:  Vacation for people who don’t actually want to do anything.

Anyway, Lesson #2:

I now understand how it is possible for individuals to die/disappear/go missing/never be seen again after embarking on a cruise.

No one speaks English.  If you go to someone to ask for assistance, they give you a half answer.  Of which, you understand approximately half.

Let’s start at the beginning..

On Monday evening (Dec. 10th), Scott and I ate at the dining room.  Between the two of us, we sampled:  stuffed mushrooms, minestrone, pumpkin soup, rolls, lobster, shrimp, red fish, chocolate cake, and coffee.  It sounds quite gluttonous, but the portions were small. I won't be eating most of those foods again for a very long time. In fact, typing it makes the vomit come uppeth.

That night, I start feeling dizzy before bed.  I went to sleep at 11pm and Scott was still up, feeling okay, watching a t.v. show on his laptop.

Around 2am, he was up and he was sick.  I woke up then too, and my stomach was killing me.  We had a tour to do that morning and I, at least, was still in denial and thought I'd be better in a few hours.

At 7:45am, we were to report to the theater to be given our directions for the day.  We were to see the Mayan Ruins at Tulum, something we had really wanted to do.  After 20 minutes of hurry-up-and-wait in the Amber Palace, we decided it wasn’t happening.  Back to the room we went to think about what to do.  Our Tulum Ruins tickets ran $100 a piece and they don’t give refunds.  We wanted medicine and they didn’t supply Pepto-bismol, or even Tums on the ship.  (The souvenir shop had Tums, but that shop was only open from 7pm-11pm each night…no help now.)

We went back to sleep, after stopping at the bar to buy some ginger ale.

At 10am, I decided we needed to go to the infirmary.  I decided I’d walk down, see what I could find out, and then come back to the room.  I had my sneakers on, was ready to leave the stateroom, but I just felt horribly unsettled. 

And that’s when I threw up all over the bathroom.

Obviously, I tried to make it to the toilet, but the toilets are kinda small on cruise ships.  Therefore a lot of it went on the floor…on the shower curtain…on the wall…and all over my one and only pair of sneakers I’d brought on this trip.

Scott wanted to help, of course, but I wouldn’t let him, as sometimes the sight of vomit is enough to induce the reaction in others.  He more or less just laughed when he saw the mess I’d made.  He went out into the hall to find one of “our friends” (the foreign stewards who knew our names, but could barely speak/understand English). 

Eight towels and a bottle of Clorox later, Scott and I were on our way to the Infirmary.

This is perhaps the most important thing I will say in this message:  If you are on a cruise ship, do not go to the infirmary…unless a body part (an important one, like an arm) has been severed from your body.  And even then, if you can get the bleeding under control, it’s probably best to wait until you arrive back at your port of call.  DO NOT GO TO THE CARNIVAL CRUISE SHIP INFIRMARY.  I cannot emphasize that point enough. 

Once at the Infirmary, Dr. Andrea-something-or-other from Co-Loom-Bee-Ah, said that in accordance with the CDC, we had to stay on the boat.  Because it was obvious that we “had brought a contagious disease on board” and would need to “stay in stateroom”.  We said, “No, this happened after we ate in the dining room.  Period.  We were not sick beforehand and wouldn’t a contagious disease have affected others?”  She just shook her head and said, “No, no.”  As soon as we uttered "food poisoning", we were actually shushed.  Shushed!

Plus, wouldn’t an infectious disease with vomiting and diarrhea be accompanied by a fever???  Neither of us had a fever.

It's also worth mentioning that the last time I threw up was about 5 years ago and that was because I mixed beer and liquor. Throwing up is not something that I do regularly or something that just happens.  Dumb Dr. Andrea.

We would be sequestered to our cabin. Dr. Andrea said that it was a 24-hour-period of quarantine and when the time was up, we could do what we wanted.  We said that we had an 8am tour tomorrow that began within the next 24 hours.  She said we would be refunded for today’s tour at Tulum ($200) and she would write the paperwork to say that we’d be cleared at 7am the next day, so we could attend our tour in Belize. (Good to know they follow their own rules, right?)

But first, Gary, a nurse from some English-speaking country (who was slightly easier to understand), needed to treat us.

He said he would give us a shot of Phenergan.  I asked if there was a pill.  He said the initial dose needed to be given in shot form.  We were at the point where we’d do anything to feel better, so we said yes to the shot.  (We signed no consent and asked for no information at this point, a true sign of how sick we were. I never would've taken that medicine had I known the side effects. It put me to sleep for a day and a half!)

Scott went first.  It was a shot in the behind.  *sigh*  Scott about keeled over.  He did not take it well.  Scott is a man who is not afraid of needles, knows how to give himself an IV, and donates blood regularly.  But this shot put him on his knees.  I was next.  It stung.  It hurt, but no worse than that strep shot I’d gotten a year ago.

 Scott lay in the hospital bed, shivering, while Gary went to take care of paperwork.  Scott said he was going to throw up but couldn’t even stand up on his own.  Every time I’d try to go get help, he’d grab my hand and pull me back.  (Later, he told me this was because he thought he was going to die and wanted me by his side. Awesome.)

As I covered him with a blanket, I stared out the porthole at Cozumel thinking, “So this is how it ends.  Universe, you are cruel, indeed.” 

Eventually, I went out to talk to Gary about our follow-up.  In the middle of our conversation, I had to go throw up again (this gets better and better).

We were given anti-nausea medicine and instructions to come back the next morning.

We spent the rest of the day in bed, sleeping off the Phenergan, and watching Breaking Bad on Scott’s laptop.  PRAISE THE LORD for Breaking Bad.  I wouldn’t have made it without the distraction. 

For days afterward, Scott had numbness and pain from the shot he got.  My only side effect was (aside from the fact that I slept for about 18 hours) pain in my joints.  My whole body, especially my hips, ached and ached. 

Tuesday was definitely an awful day.

On Wednesday morning, I awoke at 6am, took a shower, and said, “Okay we need to be cleared by the Infirmary or we’re not allowed to leave the boat”.  Scott didn’t believe me, until I showed him the scribble Gary had written down for us the day before.  The infirmary didn’t open until 8am.  Our tour disembarked at 8am.  Wtf, right?  How was this going to work? 

Leaving Scott to sleep for a bit longer, I went to Guest Services (where they were not very serviceable to me, a guest).  The guy behind the counter (I know not of his name, but think he was from Spain) was not hospitable.  I asked nicely, “My husband and I were sick yesterday.  We need to be cleared by the infirmary before we can leave the ship today.  The infirmary doesn’t open until 8, but our tour starts at 8.  Can we see a doctor earlier than 8?”

He answered with, “Yes. You must go to infirmary. We are not doctors here”, gesturing around Guest Services. 

Uh yeah, Paolo, I got that.  Trust me, I did not mistake you for a doctor.  Asshat.  Thanks for not answering my question at all.

I left.

At 7:50, Scott and I stood outside the Infirmary door (Keep in mind that our cabin was on Deck 10 and all this business was on Deck 1. I'm too impatient for elevators.  We walked a lot of steps.)  A cleaning person, coming out, held the door open for us and in we went.  Win.

Now we got to talk to Jeffrey.  I think he was from Taiwan.  I could be wrong though (I understand this makes me come off as the most racist person around. I swear I'm not.  We were more or less treated like dumb, ignorant Americans during this whole ordeal, so yeah, you can call me racist any day of the week.)

Jeffrey said, “Are you feeling better?  If so, you are free to go at 10am.”

Us:  She said 7.

Him: It says 10.

Us:  She said 7.

Him: Hold on, hold on.  I’ll change it. (long pause as he clicks around a computer screen)…Okay, you’re good to go. (Again, good to know they follow their own rules.)

We go back to the theater to await further instructions. 

30 minutes later…

Then, as we wait in the enormous security line to leave the boat, board the ferry, and go ashore in Belize….the security guard (also a non-English-understander) swipes Scott’s card and it gives off an annoyingly large buzzing sound different from the pings we’d be hearing for everyone else.  Scott was not allowed to leave the boat.  He was not cleared to do so.  Our friend Jeffrey apparently hadn’t done the right clickety-click actions on the computer, therefore we were still “quarantined” with the “illness” we had “brought” onto the ship. 

We tried to explain to the guard what the problem was.  He said we needed the paperwork from the infirmary for him to allow us off the boat.  I stormed off, Scott followed, and everyone in line looked at us like we were members of Al Qaeda.  This particularly bothered Scott, seeing as how he is a Captain in the U.S. Army and devotes his life to his country. 

I swung open the door to the infirmary, and started banging my hand on the counter to get someone’s attention.  There were several people in the waiting room behind us.  I almost, almost, told them all to go back to their rooms:  “The infirmary experience is not worth your time!  Unless you are really dying (or missing a limb) you shall recover!” 

This time, Jeffrey printed us some paperwork.  I said, “Why didn’t you do this the first time?”.  He just stared at me.

Back in the security line (bless the hearts of those people who let us skip them, as we had a tour to catch), we thrusted our paperwork at the guard.  He nodded and let us pass.  HE DIDN’T EVEN READ IT.  We’re pretty sure he didn’t possess the ability to read English anyway.  

We spent the next few days (Belize, Roatan, Grand Cayman) feeling sub-par, but we eventually got better.  By the time the cruise was over, we felt back to normal, but definitely a little ripped off. I never would've gone to the Infirmary had I known they'd treat us with such a drug and not listen to anything we had to say.

I guess the point of my story (complaint?) is that we were treated like we didn't know what was wrong with us.  I had never been sick like this.  Ever.  For both of us to be sick in the same way?  For the same amount of time? After eating at the same restaurant?  You do the math.  It's not difficult to detect that this was food poisoning.

Don't mind the extra "the" in my captioning.  Mrs. Darhower needs to learn to proofread.

Also, I really didn't appreciate the way no one spoke English properly.  It's really hard to communicate needs to a person who doesn't understand the manner in which you are speaking.  I would think that an American cruise line would be able to help out their American customers a little better than this.  Had we gone to Europe or to a foreign resort, we would've expected this.  But we assumed we'd be under the care of Americans the entire time.  That's definitely not the case, and I'd urge you to look into your cruise line further if you plan to cruise in the future.

Has anyone had a similar experience?  I hate to think that we're the only ones who always have a rough time when traveling.  

Vacation recap.

Vacation recaps can be boring.  Hopefully mine won't be. 

Port of Miami

The first thing that caught my eye in Miami?  The port. That's where Dexter hangs out.

A view from our balcony.  I might frame this one.  I like the colors in it.

Oh, yes.  The ship. Carnival Glory.

Pedicure was well-worth the money.

Manicure was not.  My nails are already all gnawed up again.  

Our only view of Cozumel, Mexico... 

...because we spent the day in the infirmary, and then confined to our room.  

"Yay" for quarantine, right? #no

Husband was not well.

But the next day, we managed to get off the boat and spend some time in the country of Belize.  

I need to stop skipping "arm day".  I think that's Guatemala behind me there. 

Maybe. I have no sense of direction. 

I show you a picture of my shoes only because I threw up all over them (and myself) the day before.  I did a pretty good job of scrubbing them up.  They spent the night drying on the balcony.  

Oh, the things they've seen!

Scott's "I'd rather be in Alaska" face.  Nice hat, right? #no

In Roatan, an island belonging to Honduras.  

Sea turtle farm in Grand Cayman.  Caymanians eat these things.

You're supposed to rub their necks to stop them from flapping their flippers.  You'd think that would tickle though.

----------------------------------------------------------

As for our week in Pennsylvania?  Well, I was sick for most of it.  Actually, all of it.  I had a fever when we landed in Pittsburgh and horrible body aches for 2 days.  Along with a sore throat, the congestion that followed wasn't pretty.  So my lack of pictures speaks for itself.  I was too miserable to take any.

This is me in our house in Pennsylvania.  It's a remodeling project that is stuck in transition because we live in Alaska.  We have big plans for it.  Someday.

That's a large Sheetz coffee.  Only $1.

 Oh, and I was playing with the manual camera settings while we were in Miami.  I like this one.
This is what December should look like.  Warm and pleasant.

I'm writing a letter to Carnival Cruise lines.  Next week, guys, you'll get to read it too...