I believe in God. I love Jesus. And I pray a lot. I believe that God is sort of hands-off. There are some really horrific things going on in the world that I can't even wrap my head around and God loves those people as much as he loves me. So I don't believe he necessarily answers and solves all problems because if he did, there wouldn't be such indescribable pain and suffering. So when I pray, I mostly do so to build a relationship with God. It's a lot of conversation and questions, and I sometimes ask (beg) for help and guidance. If I don't get THE ANSWER, it's ok because I don't expect literal answers. Because if I did, I could never justify why my prayers are answered and, say, the women in Syria who are begging for water to give their children don't have their prays answered too. But I can't deny, either, the times that I have felt His presence and, yes, have been given an answer to my prayers. Guidance. Comfort. A nudge or prodding...
So with that preamble is my latest story. On Friday night, I fell asleep while praying. I was explaining to God that with my myeloma treatment, I had some pretty big decisions to make very soon. Earlier that day, I spent an hour on the phone with my medical insurance provider working on permission to get a third opinion back at Mayo in either Scottsdale (where I went between two tandem stem cell transplants in 2012) or Jacksonville (which is just minutes from my future in-law's home). Because Huntsman Cancer Center at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City wants to transplant me again. And I am savvy enough in the myeloma world to know that this is not the only approach to treating me. There are loads of different drugs and drug combos. Transplants aren't fun and I don't feel like starting from scratch again. Or do I? Personally, I want to try Daratumumab and/or pomalyst. And a whole host of other things for years (and hopefully years) until there is a cure or I feel I must embark on salvage transplant or even an allo transplant. I hope that is never.
...Hence my prayers. Please God, help me! I am (this is reality) a walking dollar sign. I represent a ton of money to anywhere I am treated. I know that (most) really good oncologists and treatment centers have the right intentions. I know that Huntsman is great at doing transplants. But... but... but.... HELP ME! Are they recommending transplant because that's part of their business model? Or is this REALLY such a fabulous option? I must decide-- no one else.
So on Saturday, I had scheduled a meet-up. I "met" this person on Twitter who had found my blog because of my divorce story, not myeloma. And, as it turns out, he is also an 18-year myeloma survivor (yes, 18 YEARS!!!) and medical doctor. He had a family practice when he was diagnosed 18 years ago (I had to get that in there one more time because 18 YEARS is really awesome!). Long story short, this myeloma survivor is no longer practicing medicine (after a transplant, you can't really be around sick people all day long). But he is highly involved in the myeloma community. He helps review drugs before they approved by the FDA, helps other myeloma patients navigate the emotional and physical tolls of treatment, and much more. Plus, since he is a myeloma survivor, he "gets" it from a patient's perspective as few oncologists can. As we talked about our shared disease and I shared my predicament, he had all kinds of fantastic advice. And he offered to review my latest staging tests (which will be available in a week or so) and provide his expert advice on what he would do. (And, at least so far, it doesn't include transplant-- hooray!)
Oh my gosh. An answer to pray? I say YES.
I spent several hours with this myeloma warrior and after our meet-up, I felt relief, gratitude and confidence. I don't know what the future holds but I do know that I will never let this disease kill me. I won't let it define me. And I will thrive and love life every single day that I can.
So beyond BIG DECISIONS I am committed to jumping out of a plane soon, going to the Middle East (Dubai?), the Holy Lands, and getting married in FIVE WEEKS.
I'd share a whole lot more about my meet-up yesterday but until I get permission to divulge names, I'll protect privacy. But this is a BIG huge story that will be told with permission.
On this beautiful Sunday morning, I celebrate LIFE and my faith. It's as simple as that. A little gratitude.
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Friday, August 28, 2015
I promised I'll get better for YOU, he says. Should you believe him?
I love hearing from my readers. They give me so much support and I hope I provide it in return. My latest via Divorced Moms is right here, thank you "Bonnie." I cannot tell you how many women I know who end up with a total jerk for a husband or boyfriend and the signs were there. If only we all got a chance to be a fly on the wall during his last marriage, I'll bet we'd have a lot more empathy for his ex and a whole lot less for him. Not all guys fall into this category, but plenty do. Here goes....
His Ex Couldn't Fix Him, And You Likely Can't Either
by Lizzy Smith
Recently, I had an email exchange with one of my readers, “Bonnie.” She has been dating a guy for nearly four (long) years and there are some huge red flags. Like crimson colored. Bonnie said I could share her story and I have changed her name and a few details to protect her privacy.
His Ex Couldn't Fix Him, And You Likely Can't Either
by Lizzy Smith
August 28, 2015
Recently, I had an email exchange with one of my readers, “Bonnie.” She has been dating a guy for nearly four (long) years and there are some huge red flags. Like crimson colored. Bonnie said I could share her story and I have changed her name and a few details to protect her privacy.
When Bonnie met “Joe” he had just separated from his wife. He gave Bonnie and earful about what a crazy woman his ex was. She was a liar, a horrible mother, abusive and never appreciated him. Bonnie felt sorry for Joe and soon grew to hate Joe’s ex (though she never met her). But Joe had another failed marriage and he had nothing good to say about that ex either. She, too, was lazy, a terrible mother, had major substance abuse problems, and was emotionally volatile. Poor Joe had been victimized by two former wives and Bonnie hated both women. Poor Joe, she just wanted to give him a huge hug and take all his pain away (at the expense of crazy, evil women).
NOTE: Ladies, I cannot state this enough, stay OUT of the relationships that your new guy has with his ex’s. There are two sides to every story and there is a really good chance that he just might have a lot to do with the problems in those relationships. Your job is to provide comfort and hugs to your new guy, watch and observe very carefully. And when you do meet the “crazy ex,” be polite. Or, at a minimum, do not be part of their drama. Because there is a very good chance that if you and your new guy split, those ex’s may become a huge support to you.
It wasn’t long before Bonnie began seeing signs of trouble with Joe. He had an explosive personality and months later, she realized that he was an alcoholic. (Bonnie and I have many parallels.) He explained his alcoholism away by blaming his ex-wives for his woes. They stressed him out, were mean to him, and turning to a bottle was his only coping mechanism. By this time, Bonnie was “all in” with Joe. She loved him, had developed huge empathy, and she had allowed him to move into her home. While they shared no children or assets together, they fully shared their life. Plus, her heart and head made her want to help him. After all, she said, you don’t ditch a guy you love when he is sick and Joe is most certainly sick. She was on a mission to cure him.
As we our email exchange continued, I realized that her guy Joe and my ex-husband, Rob the Great (Alcoholic) seemed almost one and the same guy. Like Rob, Joe is promising Bonnie that he is going to get help this time. He loves her more than he loved either of his ex-wives and he is entering treatment. Granted, he has made this promise to her countless times and, so far, it hasn't happened. After all, he is an addict and addicts by the very nature of their disease, are liars.
I asked Bonnie if she thinks that perhaps Joe made those same promises to his ex-wives. Or his children. Or family. Or employer. It took her a long time to answer that but she finally admitted that he probably had. I asked her if she really believed he never loved his wives. Keep reading...
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Validation from the ex's family. My saga is updated via Divorced Moms
I sometimes take snippets from the early days of my blog, refresh them a bit, and post them on Divorced Moms, which gives me a very large audience. My story is one that I don't necessarily write in order of events but, rather, what strikes me as important at that moment. You can read below in case you missed my original post. Today, I feel this is an important piece of my story. Not too long ago, a reader contacted me about a similar experience. Her husband is an alcoholic and his put-downs are really extreme. But this is what an abuser does-- takes as much as the self-esteem away from his partner as possible so she is less likely to leave him. What is critical is not believing the lies and, instead, spending that time getting strong so that one is able to leave.
It is amazing to me how many women are strong, independent, and even earn good incomes yet stay with abusers. It isn't an income or education level thing. Victims come from all age groups, across the spectrum of attractiveness, income level, and the like. A victim is a victim is a victim. Why do some women stay when she sometimes holds all the cards and can get rid of the looser in her life? There are a million reasons, none of them good. It is a very sad situation and I can only say that getting cancer made me strong in ways I wasn't when I was healthy. Go figure. Cancer made me strong enough to not only leave my alcoholic husband, but to fight him in the courts and win every single thing I wanted, and to thrive in a better relationship. I hope it doesn't take a life threatening illness for others to walk away. If this is you, save yourself at all cost.
Yesterday, I had another bone marrow biopsy, my third in five months. My partner from The Myeloma Crowd, Jenny, told me to ask for the lollipop, which is a fast-acting pain killer. "I don't even remember the experience and the side-effects of the drug are gone just a few minutes after the procedure," she said. So I went into this one thinking that I would drift off into nothingness and would come out of it pain free. So I was on the table and started sucking the lolli and guess what? It totally failed me! It didn't help one tiny bit with the pain and discomfort. And because I wasn't mentally prepared for feeling anything at all, I was really super unhappy. For a second, I envisioned myself telling my tech to stop right there and I was leaving. See ya! And then I remember that I don't have an option if I want to monitor my disease closely and pick the right treatment plans for me. So I stuck it out but I am so incredibly tired of biopsies! This myeloma journey is really un-fun sometimes. I'm getting really burned out from doctors, appointments, needles, prescription refills, pills, more needles... One day at a time. Tomorrow will be better.
But on the happy news, I have been invited to be a guest speaker at a divorce survivor's retreat in North Carolina next month. I said yes and now I'm busy putting together my presentation. I am really excited and flattered and, no doubt, I will share all the details with you along with links to the retreat in case any of you are interested in going out there some day.
I must run, as I have infusion this morning.
Peace and love,
Lizzy
The Alcoholic Hubby Is A Legend (In His Own Mind)
by Lizzy Smith
My ex husband is an alcoholic. A highly functioning alcoholic who could hold down a job (barely) but hit the bars the second he could. Truth is, he works for a public utility and (no offense to you utility workers who are really amazing employees), as such, he did not need to produce and compete in the same way one must if you are working for a small business or large corporation. (There is no competition for public utilities and employees can get away with producing almost nothing and not get fired. That is the truth.) Because by noon on many days, Rob was already sitting in a bar getting wasted off his ass, oftentimes going to sleep (i.e. passing out) by early evening. Very few employers would ever put up with that but at the utility, his bosses didn't even notice. I did and it was positively stunning that he managed not to find himself on the unemployment roles. So I use the words "highly functioning alcoholic" loosely.
After five years of living a life a total chaos, lies and volatility (get drunk, scream and throw temper tantrums, apologize profusely and promise to enter treatment, enter treatment but not really be at AA meetings and instead be drinking again and lying about it, repeat), I finally left just days after getting diagnosed with multiple myeloma, a blood cancer (Tom Brokaw has this disease, so does the actor Mat Damon's father). Actually, I fled this abusive monster on the Saturday of MLK weekend and moved to Utah. I had thrown clothes into trash bags, put the cat in a carrier, and drove off. And as I drove towards Utah, I received text after text from Rob. They varied from "I love you, come back, I'm so sorry" to "you're a lying bitch." It was truly bizarre and unbelievable. I couldn't get away from him fast enough. In fact, just days after I left, he sent me an email stating that he got on Antibuse (a prescription that makes an alcoholic really sick if they come in contact with alcohol) and that prior to getting the prescription, they had to check his liver function. He told me he had a PERFECT liver! I wanted to throw up. One of the main effects of my disease was that it attacked one's liver and many with my disease first presented with complete liver failure. It was so incredibly inappropriate that it made my head spin. But that's Rob for ya.
What really confused me, however, was that Rob's family was silent. Well, Kellie, his younger daughter from his first marriage, called and texted me to see if I was OK. Kellie and I had a rough start in our relationship but she had ended up being a close friend and confidante. It was a relief to learn from her that Rob's abusive behavior wasn't just reserved for me-- he had done it to her mother as far back as she can remember. But, I kept wondering, why was not a single person from Rob's family calling or texting me at all?
And then I got "the call". I won't betray confidences or throw anyone under the bus so let's suffice it to say this: The person who called me was one of Rob's adult family members (not the children). The phone conversation was basically to relay this: Rob had emailed his entire family telling them not to have any contact with me. He went further by telling them that he wanted letters from them saying anything awful they could about me so he could present it to a judge when the time came (oh, if he had really done this, I can imagine what a judge would have thought. This kind of stuff made me more determined than ever to fight.). This family member said that their family always stuck up for each other and that is why no one would contact me but that they all realized Rob was sick, that he needed help, and that what he had done to the kids and me was wrong. This person also said that Rob had promised (again) to enter treatment for his alcoholism but instead was busy trying to find a new girlfriend. In fact, he had contacted one of his brother's friends trying to arrange a date the weekend I left him. (Rob had also contacted his brother asking if he could move in with them but that no one in that home wanted him there because Rob too often snuck into their liquor supply in the middle of the night.) This family member said that they were all stunned with Rob's rush back into another relationship. He had done this after he and his ex wife, Tina, split-- dating way too soon instead of taking time to heal. And he was repeating it. They all recognized Rob needed a lot of help and therapy and time, but they all realized, too, that Rob was incapable of doing that. (I have to say, when I learned that Rob had emailed Tina just weeks prior to our meeting telling her how sorry he was for how he treated her, I was sick. I felt so stupid that he had been trying to repair things with Tina just weeks before he pursued me with a vengeance. It made me feel so stupid and used. And Rob did this again with the new honey. If I were her, I'd feel like an idiot, too.)
...And then I got to thinking: Is remaining silent the right approach to take when you know a member or your family needs serious help? If your son or brother was sick, wouldn't you try an intervention? How many times had I called his mom and discussed Rob's problems with her. She tried the soft approach with Rob-- setting up appointments with her priest, asking him how therapy was going, calling me at work asking me if I would take her son back if he got help... But no serious intervention, which Rob desperately needed. Maybe if that had happened, Rob wouldn't have destroyed two families.
Keep reading...
It is amazing to me how many women are strong, independent, and even earn good incomes yet stay with abusers. It isn't an income or education level thing. Victims come from all age groups, across the spectrum of attractiveness, income level, and the like. A victim is a victim is a victim. Why do some women stay when she sometimes holds all the cards and can get rid of the looser in her life? There are a million reasons, none of them good. It is a very sad situation and I can only say that getting cancer made me strong in ways I wasn't when I was healthy. Go figure. Cancer made me strong enough to not only leave my alcoholic husband, but to fight him in the courts and win every single thing I wanted, and to thrive in a better relationship. I hope it doesn't take a life threatening illness for others to walk away. If this is you, save yourself at all cost.
Yesterday, I had another bone marrow biopsy, my third in five months. My partner from The Myeloma Crowd, Jenny, told me to ask for the lollipop, which is a fast-acting pain killer. "I don't even remember the experience and the side-effects of the drug are gone just a few minutes after the procedure," she said. So I went into this one thinking that I would drift off into nothingness and would come out of it pain free. So I was on the table and started sucking the lolli and guess what? It totally failed me! It didn't help one tiny bit with the pain and discomfort. And because I wasn't mentally prepared for feeling anything at all, I was really super unhappy. For a second, I envisioned myself telling my tech to stop right there and I was leaving. See ya! And then I remember that I don't have an option if I want to monitor my disease closely and pick the right treatment plans for me. So I stuck it out but I am so incredibly tired of biopsies! This myeloma journey is really un-fun sometimes. I'm getting really burned out from doctors, appointments, needles, prescription refills, pills, more needles... One day at a time. Tomorrow will be better.
But on the happy news, I have been invited to be a guest speaker at a divorce survivor's retreat in North Carolina next month. I said yes and now I'm busy putting together my presentation. I am really excited and flattered and, no doubt, I will share all the details with you along with links to the retreat in case any of you are interested in going out there some day.
I must run, as I have infusion this morning.
Peace and love,
Lizzy
The Alcoholic Hubby Is A Legend (In His Own Mind)
by Lizzy Smith
August 25, 2015
My ex husband is an alcoholic. A highly functioning alcoholic who could hold down a job (barely) but hit the bars the second he could. Truth is, he works for a public utility and (no offense to you utility workers who are really amazing employees), as such, he did not need to produce and compete in the same way one must if you are working for a small business or large corporation. (There is no competition for public utilities and employees can get away with producing almost nothing and not get fired. That is the truth.) Because by noon on many days, Rob was already sitting in a bar getting wasted off his ass, oftentimes going to sleep (i.e. passing out) by early evening. Very few employers would ever put up with that but at the utility, his bosses didn't even notice. I did and it was positively stunning that he managed not to find himself on the unemployment roles. So I use the words "highly functioning alcoholic" loosely.After five years of living a life a total chaos, lies and volatility (get drunk, scream and throw temper tantrums, apologize profusely and promise to enter treatment, enter treatment but not really be at AA meetings and instead be drinking again and lying about it, repeat), I finally left just days after getting diagnosed with multiple myeloma, a blood cancer (Tom Brokaw has this disease, so does the actor Mat Damon's father). Actually, I fled this abusive monster on the Saturday of MLK weekend and moved to Utah. I had thrown clothes into trash bags, put the cat in a carrier, and drove off. And as I drove towards Utah, I received text after text from Rob. They varied from "I love you, come back, I'm so sorry" to "you're a lying bitch." It was truly bizarre and unbelievable. I couldn't get away from him fast enough. In fact, just days after I left, he sent me an email stating that he got on Antibuse (a prescription that makes an alcoholic really sick if they come in contact with alcohol) and that prior to getting the prescription, they had to check his liver function. He told me he had a PERFECT liver! I wanted to throw up. One of the main effects of my disease was that it attacked one's liver and many with my disease first presented with complete liver failure. It was so incredibly inappropriate that it made my head spin. But that's Rob for ya.
What really confused me, however, was that Rob's family was silent. Well, Kellie, his younger daughter from his first marriage, called and texted me to see if I was OK. Kellie and I had a rough start in our relationship but she had ended up being a close friend and confidante. It was a relief to learn from her that Rob's abusive behavior wasn't just reserved for me-- he had done it to her mother as far back as she can remember. But, I kept wondering, why was not a single person from Rob's family calling or texting me at all?
And then I got "the call". I won't betray confidences or throw anyone under the bus so let's suffice it to say this: The person who called me was one of Rob's adult family members (not the children). The phone conversation was basically to relay this: Rob had emailed his entire family telling them not to have any contact with me. He went further by telling them that he wanted letters from them saying anything awful they could about me so he could present it to a judge when the time came (oh, if he had really done this, I can imagine what a judge would have thought. This kind of stuff made me more determined than ever to fight.). This family member said that their family always stuck up for each other and that is why no one would contact me but that they all realized Rob was sick, that he needed help, and that what he had done to the kids and me was wrong. This person also said that Rob had promised (again) to enter treatment for his alcoholism but instead was busy trying to find a new girlfriend. In fact, he had contacted one of his brother's friends trying to arrange a date the weekend I left him. (Rob had also contacted his brother asking if he could move in with them but that no one in that home wanted him there because Rob too often snuck into their liquor supply in the middle of the night.) This family member said that they were all stunned with Rob's rush back into another relationship. He had done this after he and his ex wife, Tina, split-- dating way too soon instead of taking time to heal. And he was repeating it. They all recognized Rob needed a lot of help and therapy and time, but they all realized, too, that Rob was incapable of doing that. (I have to say, when I learned that Rob had emailed Tina just weeks prior to our meeting telling her how sorry he was for how he treated her, I was sick. I felt so stupid that he had been trying to repair things with Tina just weeks before he pursued me with a vengeance. It made me feel so stupid and used. And Rob did this again with the new honey. If I were her, I'd feel like an idiot, too.)
...And then I got to thinking: Is remaining silent the right approach to take when you know a member or your family needs serious help? If your son or brother was sick, wouldn't you try an intervention? How many times had I called his mom and discussed Rob's problems with her. She tried the soft approach with Rob-- setting up appointments with her priest, asking him how therapy was going, calling me at work asking me if I would take her son back if he got help... But no serious intervention, which Rob desperately needed. Maybe if that had happened, Rob wouldn't have destroyed two families.
Keep reading...
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
How to make & maintain friendships? Be the perfect host!
I took my children to their first day of school this morning. I am so sad that summer is over! Where did it go? Now we are back to structured bedtimes and drop-offs, tutoring schedules, soccer practice and games, cheer practices and competitions, endless homework packets... I am so not ready! I don't think my daughters are either but it's time to slap on that happy face and let's do it and make it THE BEST YEAR EVER.
Morgan enters high school (in Utah, it's three years, not four). She went with a friend and let's hope it all turns out fabulously. It's quite strange, to be honest, my tiny little girl now older and hanging out with friends, getting in their cars and driving up the canyons for star gazing. And much more... A week ago, I went to the basement to find three girls and five boys hanging out. William told Morgan this was all allowed with some rules so they were all fine. Still, hello, when did this happen? And she is driving with her driver's permit. Yikes. Time flies. Last Friday, she went to a high school football game. William and I showed up and found her sitting in the stands. "Morgan, hi!" we shouted, waving. "We love you!" She seriously wanted to crawl under the bench. We thought it highly funny.
And then there's Siena who is growing like a weed. She is just an inch shorter than her sister and they now wear the same size shoe. Dear heavens. And if you hear her speak, you'd think she was 30 years old. This morning while eating breakfast I quizzed her about our summer. "If your teacher asks you what you did this summer, what will you say?" She stared at me blankly. Oy vey. "Ok, let's start with the five new states you visited. Go!" After some coaching, she got it right: Oregon, Washington, Florida, Georgia and South Carolina. "What new country?" She got that one right-- Canada. And what are some of the fun things we did? "Hid from wild alligators, swam in a lake in Canada, watched fun street performers in Victoria, went up the big ferris wheel in Seattle and watched them throw fish at each other, did fireworks all day on 4th of July, went to the slavemart, hung out with Julie and Shane and caught frogs at the lake, went surfing, and went to Disneyworld. Oh, we went swimming a lot and stayed in a haunted mansion in Savannah.... Wow, not bad!
Here is my latest on Divorced Moms. This is how you make and maintain friends. Or at least one way! Enjoy.
Lizzy
Becoming The Perfect Host (A Fab Way Of Keeping Friends)
by Lizzy Smith
August 17, 2015
As divorced moms, more than ever, we need friends and support structures. And that can mean reconnecting with, or making sure we stay connected to, people we love. Whether a few miles away or in another country, having friends means that we aren't lonely and that we have all kinds of social options for keeping the blues at bay.
I've never taken my friends and family for granted. And once I got sick and split from my abusive husband, those ties became more important than ever. In the throws of illness, sadness and chaos, I began to fully realize how many people loved and supported me. There were times that I was seriously blown away by the outpouring of love and support I received from others. I became almost obsessed with becoming the best friend, daughter, sister or neighbor I could be. I wanted to make sure that I gave back that love.
I also reconnected with those I had lost touch with. One such example was my former colleague, Stephanie. We worked together some 15 years ago. We reconnected on Facebook and weeks later, she sent me a message announcing that her employer was relocating her to Buenos Aires and she could tell from my posts that I loved to travel. She invited me to visit. Really? Days later, my fiancé and I purchased plane tickets and the next thing you know, Stephanie and I were catching up in person in South America. On that same trip, we took the ferry to Montevideo, Uruguay and stayed with my aunt and uncle for several days. We just got back from Florida where my future sister and brother-in-law hosted us in their beautiful home in Jacksonville. And then there was Seattle hanging with Cristina and Ryan… I could give more examples, but you get the point.
I love having friends spread out around the globe and when I get invites to visit, I rarely say no. Not only do I get to save money on our travels, but I love reconnecting with people I love. One of my favorite trips ever was a week in Paris just blocks from the Yves St Laurent flagship store and a personal tour guide.
And then there are the invites to barbecues, pool parties, and dinners. Getting out and being social is the best pick-me-up I could ever fathom.
In my recent experiences (and there have been many), I have noticed some universal traits of really great hosts, which I try to emulate when I have visitors in my own home. Becoming a great host is an art form and it takes practice. It means making your guests feel comfortable, welcomed, and well taken care of. Anticipating their needs and even incorporating great conversation skills are essential.
As I get ready to host some big gatherings over the next few months, I’ve started running through what my hosts have done to make me feel so welcomed. Here they are:
- Give your overnight guests a private (and clean) space of their own
Even if you must relocate your children to a shared bedroom for a few days, or the basement, give your guests a quiet, clean, private space to call their own. Put fresh linens on the bed and pillows, and straighten up. If possible, and if your guests are staying for more than a night or two, try and clear up closet and drawer space for them so they can unpack. - Stock up the bathroom
Make sure there is shampoo and hair conditioner, and fresh soap in the shower. Put out fresh soap (or fill the soap decanter) at the bathroom sink. Put out clean towels and washcloths for them to use. It also makes sense to keep extra toothbrushes, toothpaste and other bathroom necessities in case they forget theirs. These don’t need to cost a lot of money—go to the Dollar Store and pick up a pack of four toothbrushes for (you guessed it) under a dollar for the set. Always make sure there is extra toilet paper that is easy to find and bathroom air freshener. - Stock the fridge
I don’t think it’s necessary to spend a ton of money but it is important to have some basics, like coffee and cream, fresh fruit and cereal, and snack items. When your guests arrive, show them the fridge and make them feel comfortable helping themselves.
Keep reading...
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Got depression? Here are 7 ways to kick it in the ass (yes, it is possible!)
Divorce. Single parenting. Dating. Cancer. Depression.
Those words often all connect. But it is possible to thrive and refuse to let life get you down. It isn't easy all the time, trust me, I know. Sometimes we have to force ourselves to press forward. In my opinion, it beats the alternative, though -- which is lying in bed crying and complaining. My latest via Divorced Moms.
Best wishes for finding a fabulous life no matter what!
Lizzy
When Life Hands You Lemons: 7 Ways To Combat Depression & Thrive
by Lizzy Smith
A few weeks ago, my daughters and I went on vacation to Florida. When we landed in Orlando, I rented a car and we did a road trip to Savannah, Georgia and Charleston, South Carolina. We also spent time in Jacksonville and Orlando.
What made the trip really amazing is that our best friends who live in California were also in Orlando at the same time we were so we spent five days of our vacation together. These friends, Julie and Shane, I've known since college and they are family. Anyway, Julie's mom, Kay, was also there. Kay is like a second mom to me and my daughters call her Grandma Kay. She is an amazing woman and truly an inspiration. Here is a woman who has taken life's lemons and made (a very sweet) lemonade.
Some five years ago, Kay's leg was amputated due to a severe blood clot. Two years later, her husband passed away. She now lives alone in her home, wheelchair bound. It would be very easy for Kay to remain holed-up in her home, crying about how the kids never visit her enough and watching life pass her by while watching TV. She has chosen something else. Kay travels like no one I know. This summer, she took her two daughters Julie and Vicki, on a road trip. They flew to Chicago, rented a car, and drove to Pennsylvania, New York, Washington, DC, Vermont and New Hampshire. When that trip was over, she followed Julie and her family on a trip to Seattle and then drove down the coast to their home in Long Beach, California. They made a stop somewhere in Oregon and she went river rafting. After being home for a week, she hopped on another plane and went to Florida. One day, we went to Disneyworld and Kay went with us, not missing out on a single ride. I couldn't believe her energy level-- it far surpassed mine even though I'm 47 and she's 72. She is home now but leaving for a conference in Salt Lake City in a few days. She will be doing the 12-hour drive herself.
We talked about her mindset on life. "I want to live," Kay said. "When Jim passed away, I decided that I wanted to spend whatever time I had left in this world doing things I love. I may be in a wheelchair but so what?"
Yes, so what? So life hands us lemons. What do we do about it? Suck them dry, tartness and all, lamenting at how awful they are. Or we sugar on them, add a little water, and enjoy!
I can't tell you how many cancer survivors I talk with who are in the throws of depression. Hey, it's common. Hearing you have a life-threatening illness is a real game-changer. It is terrifying, actually. When I was told I had cancer and then left my abusive husband just days later, I could easily have sat in an infusion room, cried my eyes out, and then gone home to... what? I have also talked to countless divorce survivors who also suffer from depression and PTSD. What to do about it? Let it beat you down or live with purpose?
Let me tell you, thriving your life is far better than drowning in pain and sorrow. In fact, overcoming life's challenges rocks. It's not always easy but it is possible. (Note that if you are struggling with clinical depression, please see a therapist.) Here's how:
1. Eat Well
Your brain needs good nutrition. Now is the time to cut out processed foods and sugar and give your body the nutrients it needs to thrive. Add foods high in Omega 3 fatty acids (like salmon), loads of fresh fruits and veggies, beans and nuts. Drink lots of water. Add lemons to give it flavor. I am also a huge fan of unsweetened Ice Tea, especially in heat. It's a far better alternative than sodas and energy drinks.
2. Get Proper Sleep
You must give your body time for proper rest. It is possible to get too much sleep, too. Each of us is different but about eight hours is good. If you are consistently getting more sleep than that, force yourself to get out of bed. Likewise, if you are consistently sleep deprived, it is nearly impossible to function properly. Get fresh linens in your room, diffuse a delicious scent, and consider taking a hot bath before getting in bed. It will relax and calm you.
Keep reading...
Those words often all connect. But it is possible to thrive and refuse to let life get you down. It isn't easy all the time, trust me, I know. Sometimes we have to force ourselves to press forward. In my opinion, it beats the alternative, though -- which is lying in bed crying and complaining. My latest via Divorced Moms.
Best wishes for finding a fabulous life no matter what!
Lizzy
When Life Hands You Lemons: 7 Ways To Combat Depression & Thrive
by Lizzy Smith
August 17, 2015
A few weeks ago, my daughters and I went on vacation to Florida. When we landed in Orlando, I rented a car and we did a road trip to Savannah, Georgia and Charleston, South Carolina. We also spent time in Jacksonville and Orlando.
What made the trip really amazing is that our best friends who live in California were also in Orlando at the same time we were so we spent five days of our vacation together. These friends, Julie and Shane, I've known since college and they are family. Anyway, Julie's mom, Kay, was also there. Kay is like a second mom to me and my daughters call her Grandma Kay. She is an amazing woman and truly an inspiration. Here is a woman who has taken life's lemons and made (a very sweet) lemonade.
Some five years ago, Kay's leg was amputated due to a severe blood clot. Two years later, her husband passed away. She now lives alone in her home, wheelchair bound. It would be very easy for Kay to remain holed-up in her home, crying about how the kids never visit her enough and watching life pass her by while watching TV. She has chosen something else. Kay travels like no one I know. This summer, she took her two daughters Julie and Vicki, on a road trip. They flew to Chicago, rented a car, and drove to Pennsylvania, New York, Washington, DC, Vermont and New Hampshire. When that trip was over, she followed Julie and her family on a trip to Seattle and then drove down the coast to their home in Long Beach, California. They made a stop somewhere in Oregon and she went river rafting. After being home for a week, she hopped on another plane and went to Florida. One day, we went to Disneyworld and Kay went with us, not missing out on a single ride. I couldn't believe her energy level-- it far surpassed mine even though I'm 47 and she's 72. She is home now but leaving for a conference in Salt Lake City in a few days. She will be doing the 12-hour drive herself.
We talked about her mindset on life. "I want to live," Kay said. "When Jim passed away, I decided that I wanted to spend whatever time I had left in this world doing things I love. I may be in a wheelchair but so what?"
Yes, so what? So life hands us lemons. What do we do about it? Suck them dry, tartness and all, lamenting at how awful they are. Or we sugar on them, add a little water, and enjoy!
I can't tell you how many cancer survivors I talk with who are in the throws of depression. Hey, it's common. Hearing you have a life-threatening illness is a real game-changer. It is terrifying, actually. When I was told I had cancer and then left my abusive husband just days later, I could easily have sat in an infusion room, cried my eyes out, and then gone home to... what? I have also talked to countless divorce survivors who also suffer from depression and PTSD. What to do about it? Let it beat you down or live with purpose?
Let me tell you, thriving your life is far better than drowning in pain and sorrow. In fact, overcoming life's challenges rocks. It's not always easy but it is possible. (Note that if you are struggling with clinical depression, please see a therapist.) Here's how:
1. Eat Well
Your brain needs good nutrition. Now is the time to cut out processed foods and sugar and give your body the nutrients it needs to thrive. Add foods high in Omega 3 fatty acids (like salmon), loads of fresh fruits and veggies, beans and nuts. Drink lots of water. Add lemons to give it flavor. I am also a huge fan of unsweetened Ice Tea, especially in heat. It's a far better alternative than sodas and energy drinks.
2. Get Proper Sleep
You must give your body time for proper rest. It is possible to get too much sleep, too. Each of us is different but about eight hours is good. If you are consistently getting more sleep than that, force yourself to get out of bed. Likewise, if you are consistently sleep deprived, it is nearly impossible to function properly. Get fresh linens in your room, diffuse a delicious scent, and consider taking a hot bath before getting in bed. It will relax and calm you.
Keep reading...
Monday, August 17, 2015
When Dex can be charming. Myeloma survivor's tale of how Dex can be a positive
An Ode to Dexamethasone. As much as I DETEST taking this drug, there are some positives. My story on Dex and Disney. Hey, it worked! From The Myeloma Crowd (www.myelomacrowd.org).
When Dex Can Work Like A Charm For This Multiple Myeloma Patient. Is That Even Possible?
BY LIZZY SMITH
I despise Dexamethasone (Dex).
Yesterday, I took Dex in the morning. By late afternoon, it was in full effect and I had become Monster. William and I had a Home Owners Association meeting that night and on our walk home, a very small dog was in the middle of the street. A big SUV came straight for the dog, driving much too fast. I tried (in vain) to slow the car down. I waived, I started yelling. They didn’t even flinch and kept going. I knew for sure the SUV would hit the dog but somehow it got out of the street in time. If William had not been with me, I would have chased the car down, pounded on their door, and asked (not nicely) what the heck they were thinking going much too fast down a small residential street and then not heeding a warning from someone standing right in front of them flagging them down. They could have killed a dog, maybe I had a parent who was in dire straights inside my home and help was needed, or maybe there was a dying animal right in front of them. I was so angry.
Siena came into the bathroom afterwards trying to talk to me as I was on the phone with my mother. Interrupting me is never a good idea. But interrupting me when I am on Dex is an extremely bad idea. I tried to close the door in her face but she opened it and started up with “Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom” and tapping me on the arm. I put my hand up an inch from her face, then grabbed her by her arm, dragged her out of the bathroom, and shut and locked the door. Not a very nice response.
But then there is the occasionally time when I use Dex to my advantage and I am grateful for the side effects. Case in point…
We just finished up our last trip of the summer (I’m crying over this, I am not ready for school to begin next week!). We flew to Orlando, rented a car, and spent the next 12 days road tripping. We stopped in Savannah, Georgia and stayed in a beautiful old mansion turned B&B that was in the historic district and was on our ghost tour. It was haunted and our room was spectacular, beautiful and quaint. We celebrated our adventure by buying “I Slept With A Ghost” t-shirts. We deserved them. We explored graveyards, old forts, and restaurants. I “forced” the girls to try new foods, so they ordered grits and collared greens. They liked them. We finished up with pralines for dessert. We then made our way up to Charleston, South Carolina where we toured the Slavemart, Ft Sumter where the first shots of the Civil War began, and went shopping.
But here’s the Dex story. After all that, we drove back to Orlando and met up with my best friends from Long Beach, California who were also in Orlando at the same time. We spent the night in their rented condo and the next day we went to Disney World. I knew this would, energy level-wise, be a hard one for me. While I do well, fatigue is a constant struggle. I am about 70-to 80-percent of my former self. So I timed Disney with my Dex day. I took those 10 bitter mini green pills in the morning and off we went to the happiest (actually, make that “the hottest and most humid and crowded“) place on Earth, land of Mickey, Donald Duck, and horrible food. We’ve been to Disneyland in Anaheim, California more times than we can count but never Disney World. We debated even going but I finally told my daughters that this was the only time I was ever offering to pay so we decided to give it a go.
Oh my heavens, it was insanely hot and uncomfortable. We drank water all day, purchased $20 water/fans, and I went in search of a flow-ier sundress in an attempt to try and cool off (shorts and tank were not enough).
By 6PM when everyone, including the children, were crashing, my Dex was kicking in and I felt pretty dang good and energetic. Despite feeling drained from the heat, I dare say I felt renewed and invigorated (if not a bit smelly, sticky, and dirty). Our big attempts at a pick-me-up were ice tea or Coke for the kids, and iced coffees for the adults. We also found thick chocolate chip cookies (I can’t even fathom the calorie count), followed by pasta. It helped revive us enough so that we could hit up a few more rides, including the one we had been waiting for all day: Space Mountain.
We got back to the condo after 11 PM, starting our day at the park by 9 AM– 14 solid hours in heat and humidity that is nearly indescribable. But we made it. It was super fun actually and, thanks to my Dex, I made it through the day unscathed. In fact, I made it through the day better than everyone else. Because when we got back, while everyone else slept, I repacked and started reading my new book, Killing Jesus for another hour before dozing off with an Ambien.
The following day was my Dex crash. True to form, I felt awful. It is that same sensation I have when flying oversea on a grueling flight– like San Diego to Moscow, Russia, then boarding another flight for Yekaterinburg during White Nights when the sun never set. I felt awful then– woozy, off-kilter, unable to understand much, and almost walking in a daze. This is the same feeling of a good Dex crash. On this morning, we had to wake up super early (no problem since I get almost no sleep on Dex days anyway, maybe four hours if I am lucky, oftentimes far less) to pick up William at the airport. He had flown redeye from Salt Lake City but was coherent enough to do the driving. We spent several hours driving up to Jacksonville and stopping in St Augustine along the way to tour some of the beautiful homes, Flagler College, and churches. We also got some lunch. By the time we got to his brother and sister-in-law’s home, it was time for a nap. We were all exhausted. Later, we went to the beach for a casual dinner. These are all just about my max on a Dex crash day. I was in bed by eight o’clock and feeling quite rested, refreshed and normal by morning.
Our next two days were spent at the beach. I put the girls in surf lessons and I’m not sure they got out of the water, except to sleep, for the next 48-hours.
We are home now. This trip is one more way to prove to myself that I can travel (my absolute favorite thing to do) even with myeloma. In fact, I love traveling more now than I ever did when I was healthy (if that is possible). Why? Because I appreciate my travels, experiences, adventures, and relationship-building opportunities that these trips provide. It is also chance for me to spit on cancer. I will not let it destroy or define me. Life is more important these days.
I cannot believe I was able to write an Ode to Dex that didn’t include a bunch of 4-letter words. I suppose anything is possible on this crazy journey.
Blessings!
Lizzy
I despise Dexamethasone (Dex).
Yesterday, I took Dex in the morning. By late afternoon, it was in full effect and I had become Monster. William and I had a Home Owners Association meeting that night and on our walk home, a very small dog was in the middle of the street. A big SUV came straight for the dog, driving much too fast. I tried (in vain) to slow the car down. I waived, I started yelling. They didn’t even flinch and kept going. I knew for sure the SUV would hit the dog but somehow it got out of the street in time. If William had not been with me, I would have chased the car down, pounded on their door, and asked (not nicely) what the heck they were thinking going much too fast down a small residential street and then not heeding a warning from someone standing right in front of them flagging them down. They could have killed a dog, maybe I had a parent who was in dire straights inside my home and help was needed, or maybe there was a dying animal right in front of them. I was so angry.
Siena came into the bathroom afterwards trying to talk to me as I was on the phone with my mother. Interrupting me is never a good idea. But interrupting me when I am on Dex is an extremely bad idea. I tried to close the door in her face but she opened it and started up with “Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom” and tapping me on the arm. I put my hand up an inch from her face, then grabbed her by her arm, dragged her out of the bathroom, and shut and locked the door. Not a very nice response.
But then there is the occasionally time when I use Dex to my advantage and I am grateful for the side effects. Case in point…
We just finished up our last trip of the summer (I’m crying over this, I am not ready for school to begin next week!). We flew to Orlando, rented a car, and spent the next 12 days road tripping. We stopped in Savannah, Georgia and stayed in a beautiful old mansion turned B&B that was in the historic district and was on our ghost tour. It was haunted and our room was spectacular, beautiful and quaint. We celebrated our adventure by buying “I Slept With A Ghost” t-shirts. We deserved them. We explored graveyards, old forts, and restaurants. I “forced” the girls to try new foods, so they ordered grits and collared greens. They liked them. We finished up with pralines for dessert. We then made our way up to Charleston, South Carolina where we toured the Slavemart, Ft Sumter where the first shots of the Civil War began, and went shopping.
But here’s the Dex story. After all that, we drove back to Orlando and met up with my best friends from Long Beach, California who were also in Orlando at the same time. We spent the night in their rented condo and the next day we went to Disney World. I knew this would, energy level-wise, be a hard one for me. While I do well, fatigue is a constant struggle. I am about 70-to 80-percent of my former self. So I timed Disney with my Dex day. I took those 10 bitter mini green pills in the morning and off we went to the happiest (actually, make that “the hottest and most humid and crowded“) place on Earth, land of Mickey, Donald Duck, and horrible food. We’ve been to Disneyland in Anaheim, California more times than we can count but never Disney World. We debated even going but I finally told my daughters that this was the only time I was ever offering to pay so we decided to give it a go.
Oh my heavens, it was insanely hot and uncomfortable. We drank water all day, purchased $20 water/fans, and I went in search of a flow-ier sundress in an attempt to try and cool off (shorts and tank were not enough).
By 6PM when everyone, including the children, were crashing, my Dex was kicking in and I felt pretty dang good and energetic. Despite feeling drained from the heat, I dare say I felt renewed and invigorated (if not a bit smelly, sticky, and dirty). Our big attempts at a pick-me-up were ice tea or Coke for the kids, and iced coffees for the adults. We also found thick chocolate chip cookies (I can’t even fathom the calorie count), followed by pasta. It helped revive us enough so that we could hit up a few more rides, including the one we had been waiting for all day: Space Mountain.
We got back to the condo after 11 PM, starting our day at the park by 9 AM– 14 solid hours in heat and humidity that is nearly indescribable. But we made it. It was super fun actually and, thanks to my Dex, I made it through the day unscathed. In fact, I made it through the day better than everyone else. Because when we got back, while everyone else slept, I repacked and started reading my new book, Killing Jesus for another hour before dozing off with an Ambien.
The following day was my Dex crash. True to form, I felt awful. It is that same sensation I have when flying oversea on a grueling flight– like San Diego to Moscow, Russia, then boarding another flight for Yekaterinburg during White Nights when the sun never set. I felt awful then– woozy, off-kilter, unable to understand much, and almost walking in a daze. This is the same feeling of a good Dex crash. On this morning, we had to wake up super early (no problem since I get almost no sleep on Dex days anyway, maybe four hours if I am lucky, oftentimes far less) to pick up William at the airport. He had flown redeye from Salt Lake City but was coherent enough to do the driving. We spent several hours driving up to Jacksonville and stopping in St Augustine along the way to tour some of the beautiful homes, Flagler College, and churches. We also got some lunch. By the time we got to his brother and sister-in-law’s home, it was time for a nap. We were all exhausted. Later, we went to the beach for a casual dinner. These are all just about my max on a Dex crash day. I was in bed by eight o’clock and feeling quite rested, refreshed and normal by morning.
Our next two days were spent at the beach. I put the girls in surf lessons and I’m not sure they got out of the water, except to sleep, for the next 48-hours.
We are home now. This trip is one more way to prove to myself that I can travel (my absolute favorite thing to do) even with myeloma. In fact, I love traveling more now than I ever did when I was healthy (if that is possible). Why? Because I appreciate my travels, experiences, adventures, and relationship-building opportunities that these trips provide. It is also chance for me to spit on cancer. I will not let it destroy or define me. Life is more important these days.
I cannot believe I was able to write an Ode to Dex that didn’t include a bunch of 4-letter words. I suppose anything is possible on this crazy journey.
Blessings!
Lizzy
Monday, August 10, 2015
Summer is over. Back from our last trip of the summer (and it was fabulous)
We got home last night from our final trip of the summer. Crocodile tears, seriously. This blog post is a quick recap of our trip and to prove that life post myeloma or cancer diagnosis continues. It is up to each of us how we handle our challenges and how we wish to approach life. Sit down, think about it, and decide which is best for you (emotionally, physically and spiritually).
Not long ago, a fellow cancer survivor asked a group of people if her approach was shared by any of us? She just felt like each day, she plodded through life. We are all different. On this journey of Myeloma, there is no "destination." There are moments in this journey where we are in the midst of hard core treatment and we simply can't do more than survive each day and fight to get well on the other side. And then there are lulls in treatment where we can do anything we could do before getting sick. And then there is everything in between. That said, I decided long ago to live better, grander and with more purpose than I ever did before. Looking back, I simply survived in my prior life. Joy, spontaneity and "purpose" was contrived. I worked, I waited for my husband to have his next alcoholic explosive tantrum, I sat in traffic sucking fumes, and I fretted. I do my best to minimize all of those things. Hence, my insatiable desire to explore and build relationships, memories and experiences.
So on that thought, the last time I left off on our travelogue, we had just arrived in Charleston, South Carolina. In this beautiful, historic and oppressively hot and humid city, we walked the streets of Old Town. It was quite similar to Old Town Alexandria, Virginia, a town I lived in for seven years. We visited the former Slave Mart and Ft Sumter where the first shots of the Civil War rang out. Morgan and Siena were great-- they survived the heat and humidity and saw amazing sites and learned a lot. We ate fantastic seafood and shopped for T-shirts, spices and magnets. Morgan and I bought very cute sundresses and shorts. Siena got necklaces.
The following day, we headed back to Savannah because we loved it that much. From my phone, I booked what looked to be a beautiful mansion turned into a B&B in the historic district. When we got there, we realized that the hotel had been on our ghost tour a few nights prior. Whooohooo! Our room was BEAUTIFUL, huge with a gigantic fireplace and charming bathroom. The girls were terrified. "Anna" the hotel's ghost, haunted the room just three doors down from us. And, really, she did hauntings throughout the hotel, as Miley Cyrus also experienced just a few years prior to our arrival. The girls insisted on sharing the huge four-poster King bed and leaving the TV on all night. To celebrate, the next day we all got T-shirts that said "I slept with a ghost." The breakfast was basically a cookie display (yum!). The next morning, we hit up beautiful churches and another graveyard. But the best part was sitting outside the night before eating dinner and listening to live music. We didn't want to leave and our dinner took a really long time to get through (on purpose).
On our way back to Orlando, we stopped at Fort King George, the oldest fort in Georgia. Unfortunately, there was a sign warning us not to approach the wild alligators. The girls both had a meltdown but I made them explore anyway. We never did see any signs of alligators.
We met up with my best friends, Julie and Shane, spent the night with them for the next two nights, and went to Disney World. It was so hot and humid, there are no words. We did it anyway. It was fine but I'm done with theme parks and, honestly, I like Disneyland better.
William arrived two days later. We picked him up at the airport and we spent the next three days at the beach in Jacksonville. The girls had surf lessons and we kept the boards for two days. We visited St Augustine and I fell in love there. We stayed with William's brother, Bob, and his sister-in-law, Kim in their beautiful (and I mean BEAUTIFUL) home. They were perfect hosts. And our final night we spent on a boat. It was perfect.
And William surprised me with this beautiful gold cross necklace, which I am wearing at the oldest Catholic mission in the USA in St Augustine in this photo. I am reading Killing Jesus, I'm a big huge Jesus fan, and I've been looking for the "perfect" cross necklace in, like, forever. William found it! So kind and thoughtful and totally unexpected. Lots of love :)
Last night, we flew home. There you have it. I'm back at infusion at Huntsman getting my Carfilzomib and I'm high on Dex. Tomorrow I will crash but tonight I will have endless energy. Our wedding is less than two months away. I bought two wedding dresses-- one for the photos and one for the party. One dress is here and it's perfect, the other I'm waiting so hopefully I love it as much as I think I will.
.... And tick-tock, school starts in nine days. On Wednesday, Siena and I have a date to go school shopping. We already have a plan on where we are going, what we are looking for, and the exact order we are hitting up the shops. Morgan has spent almost all over her money already so she's done.
Cheers! Live with purpose,
xo, Lizzy
Not long ago, a fellow cancer survivor asked a group of people if her approach was shared by any of us? She just felt like each day, she plodded through life. We are all different. On this journey of Myeloma, there is no "destination." There are moments in this journey where we are in the midst of hard core treatment and we simply can't do more than survive each day and fight to get well on the other side. And then there are lulls in treatment where we can do anything we could do before getting sick. And then there is everything in between. That said, I decided long ago to live better, grander and with more purpose than I ever did before. Looking back, I simply survived in my prior life. Joy, spontaneity and "purpose" was contrived. I worked, I waited for my husband to have his next alcoholic explosive tantrum, I sat in traffic sucking fumes, and I fretted. I do my best to minimize all of those things. Hence, my insatiable desire to explore and build relationships, memories and experiences.
So on that thought, the last time I left off on our travelogue, we had just arrived in Charleston, South Carolina. In this beautiful, historic and oppressively hot and humid city, we walked the streets of Old Town. It was quite similar to Old Town Alexandria, Virginia, a town I lived in for seven years. We visited the former Slave Mart and Ft Sumter where the first shots of the Civil War rang out. Morgan and Siena were great-- they survived the heat and humidity and saw amazing sites and learned a lot. We ate fantastic seafood and shopped for T-shirts, spices and magnets. Morgan and I bought very cute sundresses and shorts. Siena got necklaces.
The following day, we headed back to Savannah because we loved it that much. From my phone, I booked what looked to be a beautiful mansion turned into a B&B in the historic district. When we got there, we realized that the hotel had been on our ghost tour a few nights prior. Whooohooo! Our room was BEAUTIFUL, huge with a gigantic fireplace and charming bathroom. The girls were terrified. "Anna" the hotel's ghost, haunted the room just three doors down from us. And, really, she did hauntings throughout the hotel, as Miley Cyrus also experienced just a few years prior to our arrival. The girls insisted on sharing the huge four-poster King bed and leaving the TV on all night. To celebrate, the next day we all got T-shirts that said "I slept with a ghost." The breakfast was basically a cookie display (yum!). The next morning, we hit up beautiful churches and another graveyard. But the best part was sitting outside the night before eating dinner and listening to live music. We didn't want to leave and our dinner took a really long time to get through (on purpose).
On our way back to Orlando, we stopped at Fort King George, the oldest fort in Georgia. Unfortunately, there was a sign warning us not to approach the wild alligators. The girls both had a meltdown but I made them explore anyway. We never did see any signs of alligators.
We met up with my best friends, Julie and Shane, spent the night with them for the next two nights, and went to Disney World. It was so hot and humid, there are no words. We did it anyway. It was fine but I'm done with theme parks and, honestly, I like Disneyland better.
William arrived two days later. We picked him up at the airport and we spent the next three days at the beach in Jacksonville. The girls had surf lessons and we kept the boards for two days. We visited St Augustine and I fell in love there. We stayed with William's brother, Bob, and his sister-in-law, Kim in their beautiful (and I mean BEAUTIFUL) home. They were perfect hosts. And our final night we spent on a boat. It was perfect.
And William surprised me with this beautiful gold cross necklace, which I am wearing at the oldest Catholic mission in the USA in St Augustine in this photo. I am reading Killing Jesus, I'm a big huge Jesus fan, and I've been looking for the "perfect" cross necklace in, like, forever. William found it! So kind and thoughtful and totally unexpected. Lots of love :)
Last night, we flew home. There you have it. I'm back at infusion at Huntsman getting my Carfilzomib and I'm high on Dex. Tomorrow I will crash but tonight I will have endless energy. Our wedding is less than two months away. I bought two wedding dresses-- one for the photos and one for the party. One dress is here and it's perfect, the other I'm waiting so hopefully I love it as much as I think I will.
.... And tick-tock, school starts in nine days. On Wednesday, Siena and I have a date to go school shopping. We already have a plan on where we are going, what we are looking for, and the exact order we are hitting up the shops. Morgan has spent almost all over her money already so she's done.
Cheers! Live with purpose,
xo, Lizzy
Sunday, August 2, 2015
Exploring the Southern USA. Southern charm, cooking and ghosts
Yesterday, we left Orlando, the girls and I. We stopped in Jacksonville for an hour to meet up with Bill's sister-in-law for lunch and continued on to Savannah, Georgia. I've never been outside of the Atlanta airport so this is my first time to Georgia. Oh my gosh, we fell in LOVE with Savannah. We walked the historic district, took a ghost tour, and ate delicious Southern food and drank sweetened ice tea as only Southerners know how to make it. Today we explored some more and went to the cemetery. And we sampled peach cookies.
We just pulled into Charleston, South Carolina (I've never been outside of the Charleston airport so this is another state I get to add to my list-- I think I'm up to 40 states now and the girls at about 24 states). We stopped at a plantation and also got some Southern barbecue.
Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, makes me feel more alive than traveling or exploring something new. I am not exaggerating-- you can burn almost everything I own (minus my Stuart Weitzman sandals and apple green Kate Spade bag) because I could care less about "things." Sure, I love cute clothes and great shoes and bags make me swoon. But I can't take any of it with me. I can, however, take with me my brain, experiences and relationships-- and that is all that matters. I don't care about careers and more items and shopping. I do love to buy magnets from everywhere I go and put them on a bulletin board so I never need forget my travels. I love to buy fabulous local sauces and spices because I love great, unique and delicious food. The rest? BURN IT. But you can't take my memories or experiences from me. You can have my possessions, though.
And that is what makes traveling so fabulous. The girls and I can bond and talk and learn. Together. On our ride up, we talked Southern hospitality and charm, the Bible belt, counted the number of churches we found (almost more than Mormon churches in Utah county), and Civil War sites. We visited a plantation and talked ghosts. I hope I'm raising daughters whose thirst for knowledge and experiences never wane. I hope they understand that the world and this country are big and vast and amazing, that not everyone lives or believes or eats the same way, and that they have choices in life. I don't expect them to make my same choices (gosh I hope not) or even pick my same Mormon religion (not that I EVER picked Mormonism, that one was handed to me at birth). I hope they appreciate the world and people and options. I know I do.
Cancer is awful. I wish I didn't have it and could be cured and never need to hear or think about the awful, dreaded C word again. But I have never had such a zest and appreciation for life since that diagnosis. I can't LIVE and experience enough since then. I am obsessed and I have no intention of curbing it.
The big house and career I once had? HATED IT. The vacation house? It was meaningless. The furniture and great towels and serving pieces and all the other things I was so busy acquiring? Don't care. Pointless. But every single trip I've had, every museum I've visited (from a doll museum in Manan, Idaho to Peterhoff in St Petersburg, Russia), every local cuisine I've sampled? It means EVERYTHING and I wouldn't change a thing. They're helping change and shape my heart and head and soul.
And with that, we are going to brave the rain and explore downtown Charleston. I've told the girls that they WILL sample grilled alligator this evening, and okra. Maybe even some pralines. Yum!
We just pulled into Charleston, South Carolina (I've never been outside of the Charleston airport so this is another state I get to add to my list-- I think I'm up to 40 states now and the girls at about 24 states). We stopped at a plantation and also got some Southern barbecue.
Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, makes me feel more alive than traveling or exploring something new. I am not exaggerating-- you can burn almost everything I own (minus my Stuart Weitzman sandals and apple green Kate Spade bag) because I could care less about "things." Sure, I love cute clothes and great shoes and bags make me swoon. But I can't take any of it with me. I can, however, take with me my brain, experiences and relationships-- and that is all that matters. I don't care about careers and more items and shopping. I do love to buy magnets from everywhere I go and put them on a bulletin board so I never need forget my travels. I love to buy fabulous local sauces and spices because I love great, unique and delicious food. The rest? BURN IT. But you can't take my memories or experiences from me. You can have my possessions, though.
And that is what makes traveling so fabulous. The girls and I can bond and talk and learn. Together. On our ride up, we talked Southern hospitality and charm, the Bible belt, counted the number of churches we found (almost more than Mormon churches in Utah county), and Civil War sites. We visited a plantation and talked ghosts. I hope I'm raising daughters whose thirst for knowledge and experiences never wane. I hope they understand that the world and this country are big and vast and amazing, that not everyone lives or believes or eats the same way, and that they have choices in life. I don't expect them to make my same choices (gosh I hope not) or even pick my same Mormon religion (not that I EVER picked Mormonism, that one was handed to me at birth). I hope they appreciate the world and people and options. I know I do.
Cancer is awful. I wish I didn't have it and could be cured and never need to hear or think about the awful, dreaded C word again. But I have never had such a zest and appreciation for life since that diagnosis. I can't LIVE and experience enough since then. I am obsessed and I have no intention of curbing it.
The big house and career I once had? HATED IT. The vacation house? It was meaningless. The furniture and great towels and serving pieces and all the other things I was so busy acquiring? Don't care. Pointless. But every single trip I've had, every museum I've visited (from a doll museum in Manan, Idaho to Peterhoff in St Petersburg, Russia), every local cuisine I've sampled? It means EVERYTHING and I wouldn't change a thing. They're helping change and shape my heart and head and soul.
And with that, we are going to brave the rain and explore downtown Charleston. I've told the girls that they WILL sample grilled alligator this evening, and okra. Maybe even some pralines. Yum!
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