Sometimes I forget I have a blog…

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I’m about to start a big, fat, new chapter in my life. Because of that, I’d like to keep up the blog a little better. I’d also like to be able to refer my children to the blog someday instead of having to actually tell them stories about when their father and I were dating/engaged/newlyweds. And really, I, like most people, like to talk about myself.

When I last left you, I mentioned that Stephen and I were figuring things out. Well, we figured things out so well that we got engaged on July 16-17 (I can’t remember if it was before or after midnight). Then we went to a wedding later that day on the 17th and it was royally hot and I made a decision to make sure and have an indoor winter wedding. That wedding will take place on January 8th, 2011 for those who are interested. Of course, if you are interested, I’m probably sending you an invitation, so this blog post is sort of unnecessary.

After the engagement, I went back to OKC for 2 weeks. I packed my things, left my condo, and moved back in with my parents. And then something super fun happened: (I keep feeling like I should donate an entire blog post to each of these events, but that would be so unlike me) I got really sick. I thought I was dehydrated, so I ignored it, texted Dr. Julia, drank some gatorade and finally was forced into going to the doctor. He thought it was a tick-borne illness and sent me home with some kick-ass antibiotics. So I thought, “Sweet! I can go visit the fiance because the drugs’ll have me feeling better in no time.” I was wrong. I got sicker, went to the doctor in Ruston, LA (more about that city at a later date), and got some phenergan and pain meds. I couldn’t keep the phenergan down, so on Wednesday, I went back to my doctor in Little Rock. He thought I had gallbladder problems, sent me for an ultrasound on Friday and then sent me promptly to the hospital. Except that I went to Old Navy for spiffy new lounge pants instead. What was the worst that could happen? Then I went to the hospital, checked in, met my nurse (bad nurse) and laid around bored until I got a headache and the night nurse (good nurse) gave me IV demorol. Then I wasn’t bored anymore. The next morning, after having been woken up approxiamately 900,000 times so they could check my vitals, I got to take some Pepcid, get wheeled to pre-op, use my first bedpan (it had some unpleasant results), meet the anesthesiologists (attractive!), and get my stomach cut open and an organ cut out. Then, my dad brought me some food from Forbidden City and I ate three bites and then fell asleep in my plate. Then, I got the hiccups and the bad nurse mocked me for needing pain meds. Then, she finally let me go home, but without giving me any discharge instructions. Luckily my parents and fiance were listening to the surgeon after the operation in the waiting room. Then I went home, laid around in bed and that’s pretty much the end of the gallbladder story.

Since then, I’ve been engaged. I’ve taken engagement pictures. I’ve picked flowers and bridesmaid dresses and registered and started working at my dad’s office. I travel to Ruston some. Stephen comes here some. I’m tired and busy and it’s nice, but I’m also really glad that in 93 short days it’ll be over. Then I can start a totally new adventure of being a wife/nursing student/employee/resident of Ruston, LA.

Thanks for reading all this. Or at least clicking on my blog so it looks like I have an actual readership. Happy Thursday! Come help me address wedding invitations! There’ll be dessert in it for you.

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