A Taste of Hell

Poison oak sucks. I can’t even pretend to not mind it. It’s been a week since I raced to the doctor, and you know what? I still have the crap. I still wake up itching. I fall asleep itching. In fact, my whole body itches in solidarity with the poison oak parts.

Two different friends told me about this miracle stuff called Tecnu, which washes away the oils and helps you heal faster. I think Pete and I thought it would be an elixir from the gods, and would wake to find milky, smooth skin after we used it. We’ve both used it 4 times (morning and night – maybe that’s why I’m itchy). The rash is subsiding slightly, but it might also just be time. I’m not sure it is quite the miracle worker I was led to believe.

Here’s the real kicker: the damn oil must be on something we touch regularly because now I have new spots of poison oak on my hands, inside of my right leg and my ass. HOLY CRAP!! I’M OVER IT!!!

We both feel like we’ve woken up in some version of hell. We’re scared to touch stuff in the house, scared to drive the car we used to take the hike (it’s been sprayed with so much rubbing alcohol it smells like it). Our laundry pile grows exponentially every day since we only use a towel and wear clothes once. Hell, Pete even stripped the couch covers to wash because he is sure he lay on the couch with his contaminated hiking clothes on.

This morning, when I told my friend we “pulled off the trail,” she asked if it was to get busy. All I have to say to that is, Thank God L.A. has too many people to even consider that! Ouch…

I’ve heard tales of using poison oak/ivy to wipe after peeing in the woods. All I have to say is, you have to have some pretty bad karma for that to happen.

So, 7 days down. Hopefully, less then 7 to go.

UPDATE: It's 9 days later and it is basically gone, but my skin still has blotches on it. The stuff is straight from the devil.

Even the mighty fall sometimes

I rarely get sick. I might call in sick to work, but you know, it’s usually more like sick of work sick. Not sick-sick. On the rare occasion when sickness gets a hold of me, I almost always take to the couch for a day and wave it away with a quick brush of hand. I do NOT get sick for days, and definitely not a whole week. Unfortunately, I think I am sick-sick. Here’s the timeline:

Tuesday: Felt a little under the weather. Left work an hour early. Went to bed.

Wednesday: Stayed home on the couch. Felt poorly, but could have pushed it and gone to work. This is my strategy: get it before it gets you.

Thursday: Went to work. Felt fine for the most part. Slightly run down. Stupid move #1: Despite feeling a tad rundown, went out for drinks with friends I haven’t seen in months.

Friday: Work was cancelled so stayed home on the couch recovering from yelling at the bar all night Thursday. Still felt run-down but also sure I could make it to Texas.

Saturday: Stupid move #2: Hopped on a plane to Austin feeling decent, but a little run-down. A cough has taken hold of my bronchial system. Buy cough syrup that does nothing to help the cough.

Sunday: The cough seems to be getting worse. Still tour around Austin and go to BBQ that night. Buy homeopathic cough syrup that does nothing to help the cough.

Monday: Continue coughing and denying I am sick. Tour around Austin. Shop, walk and run myself down more. Stupid, but necessary move #3: Hop a plane back to LA.

Tuesday: Wake up feeling like utter hell. Stay home from work and cough like mad.

Wednesday: Repeat Tuesday. Finally admitted defeat and called the doctor for drugs. She informed me it sounds like I have a virus and I have to wait it out, but took mercy on my and prescribed cough syrup. Stupid move #4: Had the cough syrup prescription sent to the pharmacy by work so I couldn’t get it last night. Spent the night coughing so much I puked. This has not happened in my memory before (vaguely recall this possibly happening when I was a child).

Thursday: Stupid Move #5: Deny that I am still sick. Drive to the pharmacy to get cough syrup and onto work where I planned on taking it. The cough syrup is full of drugs that will knock me out and make me sleep like I am on, oh drugs. I am stuck sucking Ricola and drinking hot water with lemon and honey. I really hope this cough syrup works.

So, I am finally admitting that I am sick and called HR to request a temp to cover for me for the afternoon. I can’t wait to get home so I can go drug myself and get healthy.

Also, send a prayer for all those poor people on the planes with me and my friends in Texas. I really, really hope I didn’t get them sick.

Slippery Slope

Tropical fruit smoothie made at home
Green tea
Handful (or 6) of Trader Joe’s Omega-3 Trail mix
Top of chocolate muffin (why waste the calories on the sucky bottom half?)
3 pieces of leftover BBQ chicken pizza (cold)
Hot chocolate
2,453 Hershey kisses
1 mojito
Skirt steak and fries

Yesterday’s list is pretty much how my life feels. It was very healthy, and then somehow, I’ve become a steak, pizza, fry-eating woman. WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN??? Is this why married people gain weight?

A year ago, prior to meeting my soon-to-be-husband, I worked out regularly (2-4 times a week) with a variety of exercises including but not limited to: spinning, hiking, yoga and running. Today, I went to spin class out of pure guilt for the first time in a month. Yoga? Please. My toes are somewhere south of Mexico and I am not reaching them from up here. A hike? That would entail getting in the car on the weekend to do something other than dress shop or go to a wedding, which seems like all we’ve been doing (two in March!).

I should also point out that two years ago, I regularly made myself lunch to take to work. It usually consisted of organic lettuce, organic beets, organic carrots, organic nuts, homemade salad dressing with organic olive oil. Sometimes I brought a cheese snack, which wasn’t organic. I know, crazy. I took pride in what I ate. Then, I realized, the company would pay for my lunch on the days I stayed in if I wasn’t so picky about organic. On the few days I don’t have to stay in, it is much more fun to meet friends for lunch out. So, I stopped making my lunch and started to eat salads and other healthy stuff out. When, exactly, did I switch from organic salad to BBQ chicken pizza??!

When I got home from dinner last night, my belly hurt with a greasy, heavy feeling. My heart-burn, stress-meter was on (pain in my throat), and did I mention my belly was bloated out to Palm Springs?

On top of the exercise and food, my hair hasn’t been cut in months, a grey streak is taunting me to get back on track, my eyebrows are untouched by wax since way before Christmas and we won’t even talk about my bikini area. On the plus side, I had a pedicure prior to one of the weddings in March, but my shoes smudged the polish. Needless to say, I haven’t fixed that.

This could be my future. I could turn into my nightmare of a lumpy, out-of-shape, out-of-style (I’ll discuss the wardrobe issue later) wife. At the rate I am going, I will be a lump of lard by our wedding in August and my fiance won't want to touch me. I’ve heard the stories of letting yourself go once you get a man, but really, this is ridicules. I don’t even have the real ring yet!

Today, I am turning it around. I went back to spinning. I ate salad for lunch. I’ve only had 4 Hershey kisses. I scheduled a haircut. I’m not going down without a fight! Or at least not without decent hair. I still have some standards. Low as they my be, they are mine.

She's not fitting the mold

I am not the kind of bride Martha and the editor's of InStyle have in mind. Theme? Like what? Under the Sea? Hawaiian Tropical? Old Hollywood? Right now, the closest theme I have is L.A. Carnival meets North Carolina Country. Colors? I have to pick just one? Two? Are you kidding? I might wear black from head to toe five times a week, but I love me some color. I am not limiting myself. I refuse. My colors? Look at a fucking rainbow. Those are my colors!

Great. I can see it now. Gift after gift of unicorn trinkets with rainbows.

Is any bride truly sane?

In a past life, I was an event planner. Today, I organize a high-powered Hollywood executive's life. I am a planner. I am detail-oriented. I am good at this. These are my strengths. When I told a friend I was getting married, she, a wise, married woman, told me to forget my life until August because I will eat, sleep and breathe wedding. I scoffed at her citing my planning expertise.

My apartment and my fiance's are littered with wedding magazines (all mine). I am madly ripping pages out that inspire me or have a good idea on them like making my guests dress up in costumes to have their pictures taken for the guest book. How fun! Escort cards clipped to a clothes line? Love it! And thank god Martha told me about escort cards because I had 1) no idea they had a name 2) were so bloody important 3) had to coordinate with the rest of the stationary/theme. Yes, I used to plan events. Did I mention I am a little non-traditional and I mainly did the food and flowers?

Because I am an organizer, I made the requisite "wedding planning binder" complete with tabs. It doesn't have one real contract from a vendor in it yet, but is starting to burst with ripped magazine pages. I'm thinking that if I get all of the ideas in there, shake it up and sprinkle it with fairy dust, my dream wedding will manifest itself. Maybe mice will sew my dress and Jimmy Choo will courier over some glass slippers.

On Sunday, I woke up early with ceremony ideas, flower arrangements, dress patterns and chicken satay floating around my mind. By the time my fiance woke up an hour later, I had moved the wedding from North Carolina to Hawaii's North Shore. There is a house in Haleiwa I know of that we could use for a wedding. I could wear a bunch of leis and my fiance could wear a mali'i leaf one like the old kings did. We could be barefoot. We could have fresh ahi from the fish market and my dad and brother could sashimi it. But wait. If we did it in Hawaii, a lot of people couldn't afford to come. We would have way too much ahi left over so who would cater the food? That's when I realized it didn't matter where we had the wedding. I'd still have to deal with the minutia of planning.

My fiance still had his eyes closed when I said, "I think it might be cool to have a candy bar at the wedding with traditional German (he's German) and American candies." He opened his eyes and stared at me. It was at this point that he told me I needed to put the wedding magazines away. I wouldn't say he banned them, but I can tell he's ready for his sane woman to return. So am I, sweetie, so am I.