WARNING: This Post Is NOT For Those With Weak Stomachs or Any Aversions To Conversations About Vomit

It all started with an innocent little bratwurst. 


Half an hour after I made lunch from that innocent little bratwurst, it decided it needed to make a reappearance. And let's just say, Mr. Brat had plans for a grand, if somewhat messy, entrance.


For those who need even further explanation of where I'm going with this, let me just be frank.


(WOW. Best pun ever. Moving on.)


Yesterday, I suffered from what can only be described as the Food Poisoning That Broke My Face And My Spirit.


It's bad enough that I spent at least 20 minutes on my knees praying to the porcelain god. But, towards the end of the projectile vomiting, I could feel all the little blood vessels in my face beginning to pop from the strain. And I knew, as my shoes came out of my mouth to join the party, that whatever face I saw in the mirror later was NOT going to be a pretty one.


This is what my face looked like about an hour after the incident took place:

My father said, and I quote, "You look like you just tried to take on Rocky in the ring. And kiddo, you lost."


You can only imagine how scared I was to look in the mirror this morning. Paired with the bruises and swelling was a night of little-to-no sleep, since I kept having nightmares about children running away from me in terror. So, when I woke up to this:

I was slightly relieved. I mean, from a distance, it could almost look like sunburn, right? I whipped out my bag o' cosmetics and started praying for a miracle. I considered trolling our small collection of tools for a spackling implement, but figured that might only aggravate my already-injured face. So...I patted and swiped and dotted and sponged on as much foundation and concealer as my skin could handle, added some eye liner and mascara, and called it a day. And here's the finished result:

Better. Much better. Unless you get up close and start connecting the dots. So, in my desperation to cover my bruised face, I decided to make some drastic changes to my wardrobe of the day. I started digging through my drawers, trying to think of costume ideas to minimize the redness around my eyes. My first idea....Lady Justice.

But I didn't figure my boss would appreciate the additional hardware required to pull off this look, even if the sword represents power and swift justice. So, I turned to another favorite s-hero.

But if I'm honest with myself, I do not have Michelle Pfiefer's piercing blue eyes, or Halle Berry's luscious lips. That makes pulling off a Cat Woman mask a little less appealing. So, I thought to myself, why not just celebrate Mardi Gras a bit early this year?

It was a solid option. Until a customer came in and flashed me for beads. That was the end of the line for the Mardi Gras mask.


So, I dug around in my summer beach bag and came up with the best solution all around. Just don't hit me for singing "Sunglasses At Night" all day long.

Thank you, Corey Hart, for the inspiration.

Do I look a little less freaky and a little more deaky? (Fingers crossed that you'll say yes. And also, that you'll get my weird lingo.)

I'm linking up with Yeah Write #46 today.

Why? Because I'm fishing for comments that will

hopefully involve readers telling me that I don't 

look like Frankenstein's monster, even though

I really do. What? I can't help it.

I need a major ego boost today.

Stop by and read all the other awesome blogs!
(They're all linking up because they're talented writers,
not because they're fishing for sympathy. Probably.)

PS: Oh, and did I mention the subconjunctival hemorrhage in my right eye?

What? Too much? Are you totally never going to read my blog again? Dammit. *face palm* OW!

I Like Me!

The last few days have been tough for me. There may have been some negative self-talk, a few heated conversations with my reflection in the mirror, and a general feeling of discontent. Yesterday I indulged in too much coffee, not enough water, and an all day marathon of bad TV. 


And here it is, a dreary, rainy Monday, and I feel like Mother Nature rolled out the perfect accessory to match my mood.


I think, on days like today, it's important to figure out a way to turn my frown upside down. There's no real reason for me to be feeling blue. I haven't been defeated, or received any bad news, or experienced anything life altering. 


And so I'm going to join my friends at Be Enough Me today. I'm going to wipe away that stray tear, dig deep for my happy, and share with you the things I like best about being ME.

I'm a free love kinda gal.
Wait, let me explain that statement. There's no wall around this heart--I will love you and support you--friend, family member, husband, pet, UPS guy, nice lady at the Publix bakery--until you give me a real reason not to. (For instance, if you tell me there aren't any more brioche rolls, that might be reason enough for us to break up.) 


I am known in my little circle of friends as The Queen of Facial Expressions.
OK, so, maybe they don't actually refer to me that way. Can I institute a new nickname, guys? Or maybe you could just curtsy when I pull my face the next time you say something funny. 'Kay?

I laugh too loud, I gesticulate wildly, and I will always go for the laugh (even if it means I have to throw myself onto the proverbial comedy sword to get it.)
I'm good with being the loud, silly, crazy person in most social situations. I may come across to your more sophisticated friends as Ghettorific Rita from the block, but trust me when I say that you will never be bored when I'm around.



I have a really broad sense of humor.
I think silly inspirational posters, Sheldon Cooper, and dogs eating peanut butter are hilarious. (Cuz, you know, it gets stuck on the roof of their mouth? What? It's funny!) Similarly, I will also chuckle at bad puns, perfectly executed innuendos, and funny Pinterest pictures like this one:

It's funny because he says "Boop!" (source)

I'm a brave, strong, independent woman. Unless there's a spider in the room. Then I'm a big ol' fat chicken. And I'm ok with that.
It's ok to have a character flaw. Mine just happens to be that I scream like a banshee if there's something in the house with more than 6 legs. Bugs, I can handle. Spiders...not so much. So, if you see one before I do, just run over and kill it quick like a bunny. That way you don't have to worry about me shrieking at the top of my lungs and trying to climb my way to the ceiling (even if I have to use you as a step stool.)


I'm also a big ol' nerd.
Harry Potter? Oh, yes. Star Trek? Yessir. Video games, an obsession with a boy band from the 80s, Dr. Oz and documentaries of any and all kinds? Yes, yes, and some more yes. It's ok if you think I'm a nerd. Because I embrace that part of me and will flaunt it most proudly.

Why yes, we're wearing Harry Potter 3D glasses. That's how we roll, right Rosie?

I'm passionate, even if I have a short attention span.
Last year, it was jewelry-making, photography, and Twitter-stalking Donnie Wahlberg. This year, it's writing both blogs and books, exercising, and convincing Donnie Wahlberg that our relationship needs to be reciprocal (i.e. maybe he could tweet me more than once every 8 months.). No matter what project/tv show/hobby I pick up, I'm going to devote everything I've got to it. Until I get bored. Then I'll find something new to be passionate about.


I rock at lists.
And I think I just proved my point.


Also, I like odd numbers better than even numbers.
Hence why I added another item to this list. So there'd be 9 instead of 8 things I like about myself. Did I mention I'm slightly neurotic? No? Well, I won't be making it a separate entry because that would defeat the purpose of this entry, now, wouldn't it?


See? I feel better already. 

Photoshop, The Abby Gabs Way

I recently had my very first request to do a Photoshop tutorial, from friend and fellow blogger Ryan from The Woven Moments. I excitedly took on the task, until I remembered that I'm far from a Photoshop guru. No one would ever pay me to teach them the skills I use for my blog on a regular basis. But, I figured that, for the purposes of this blog, I could at least pretend that I know what I'm talking about, and share some of my self-taught Photoshop skills to the masses. So, in my second-ever tutorial, I'm going to attempt to teach you how to make your own silly graphics using Photoshop. 


Be forewarned. I don't use real Photoshop-type jargon. I call most of the buttons "Whatzit" and "Thingymajigger."


Let's proceed.


I use Photoshop for 3 basic things: to superimpose myself into ridiculous situations, to salvage a photo that I like but that isn't usable in its current form, or to add words and/or graphics to an existing but boring photo.


So, here's how I do it.

Superimposing Myself Into Ridiculous Situations
(AKA: The Magic Extractor)

You've seen it a hundred times on Abby Gabs...Abby with a goofy grin standing at the feet of Mordor, Abby sipping on a frilly cocktail  on the beaches of Hawaii, Abby kissing Donnie Wahlberg's cheek. Photoshop allows me to live a dramatic, somewhat enviable, celebrity-like life. Without it, suffice it to say that you'd see a lot of boring pictures featuring me, my cats, and the terrible 1970s throwback wood paneling that covers every inch of wall in my apartment.

(My landlord calls it classy.)

So, in order to take yourself out of an ordinary picture and magically transport yourself into fairytale land, you simply need to make use of the Magic Extractor tool. (For the purposes of this blog, I'm making a life long dream come true and putting myself into the Michael Jackson Thriller video. Just go with me here.)

Step one: open up Photoshop, upload all the photos you want to use for your project, and choose the first photo you want to manipulate. In this case, it's my face. Click on "Image," scroll to the bottom and choose "Magic Extractor." The following screen will pop up:

Don't be intimidated. This little tool couldn't be easier to use. Use the red paint tool to mark the areas of your photo that you want to keep. Use the blue paint tool to mark the areas of the photo that you want to disappear. When you're satisfied, click "Ok."


Now here's where I differ with some of the Photoshop gurus on the innerwebs. They'll tell you to be meticulous here. And inevitably, the first few times you use The Magic Extractor, you will spend 30 minutes making sure that the stray hair poking out of your left ear is most definitely NOT highlighted with red. Let me say, though, that you will have an opportunity to perfect the photo once it's added to your chosen background. So---swirl that mouse with abandon, baby. No need to be nit-picky. Just get the job done.


Once you've applied the Magic Extractor, your photo will now look like this:

As you can see, there's some schmutz around the very edges. Again, don't panic. You can fix this later. Now, double click on your background image, figure out where you want to smoosh your face, and drag the edited face photo onto the background. Manipulate it until you get it where you want it. Then, begin your perusal of the handy-dandy little buttons on the left-hand side of your screen.

See that cute little pink eraser that looks like the kind you carried in your pencil box in third grade? That's the answer to all your problems. Select the layer of the photo that you want to edit (most likely, it's your face. You don't want to erase background, right?) Then erase away those last little remnants of the original photo that you don't want anymore. If you're having problems seeing what you're doing, feel free to click on the little magnifying glass and zoom in. It makes ensuring you don't accidentally erase your left ear a TON easier.


After a few minutes, you can successfully say "Voila! I have a finished product!"

But Abby, wait! There's a hat with flowers in that picture!! How on earth did you manage to add that to the photo? No worries, friend. We'll cover that in the Third Section of this blog. For now, let's move on to Section Two.

Salvaging a Photo That I Like 

But Isn't Usable In Its Current Form

When a majority of the photos you use for your blog are self-portraits, you will wind up with more duds than studs. They'll turn out fuzzy, or framed incorrectly, or just generally poopy. Case in point: this fuzzy photo I took of myself recently for my Valentine's Day blog:

Naturally, it didn't get chosen to go into the blog becasue it's out of focus. However, Photoshop is GREAT for fixing those photographer-errors, and  you can wind up what I call "Artsy Fartsy" photos. The first thing I do to make any bad photo into an Artsy Fartsy masterpiece is convert it to Black and White. Click "Enhance," scroll down and select "Convert to Black and White." The following page will pop up:

Photoshop is already equipped with a ton of options to make your black and white photo as artsy or as fartsy as your little heart desires. Just click around until you find the optimum option, then select "ok."

Woo hoo! This is a "self high-five" moment. You've just joined the ranks of self-involved, pretentious artists on the internet by creating your own creatively shot and edited photograph. But maybe you're still not happy. Maybe you want to manipulate it even more. Let me introduce you to Photoshop's "Artistic Effects" arsenal.

This is where clicking buttons and playing with the options on Photoshop becomes crucial. There are SO MANY DIFFERENT ways to manipulate a single photo. You can make it appear that the photo was really painted, or drawn with charcoal, or even sketched by a street vendor. Your choice. Just click the handy little buttons, apply to the photo, sit back and enjoy the show. And no worries---no changes are permanent. There's a handy little option in the "Edit" column that allows you to undo any changes you've made to the pic. 

(I chose Pastels for the below photograph. You'll find it in the 3rd row, 2nd option from the left.) Now how artsy-fartsy is THAT?!?

Now you have an all-purpose black and white photo that you can use for a myriad of applications: avatars, Facebook profile pictures, Christmas cards---whatever you need! But perhaps you still feel like it's a little lacking. Maybe you'd like to add a poem, or an inspirational quote.

That's where adding stuff comes in.

Adding Words and/or Graphics to 

An Existing But Boring Photo

Psssst. Want me to let you in on a little secret? THIS IS SO EASY. Once you have the Photoshop software, you have an entire warehouse worth of fonts, colors, warping options and more right at your fingertips. 

My method of finding the right font for a project goes like this: click on the font tool (it looks like the letter "T".) Click somewhere on the photo. Type whatever you need to type. Then highlight it and scroll through the fonts, changing it when you find one that sounds interesting. You can increase or decrease the size to fit it into the photo as needed. You can also click on the color box and change the color of your font in 2 shakes of a lamb's tail. If your text needs to be physically moved to a new location, click on the Move Tool at the very top (looks like an arrow with a compass next to it.) and drag it around till you find your inner peace. And eventually, you'll have an image that looks like this:

It's just as easy to add graphics to your photo. Let's say, for this blog's sake, that you want to add a picture of a black cat wearing a Marilyn Monroe wig. Easy enough. Let's use Photoshop's "Create" button, located to the right of your screen.

Using the drop-down menu, select "Graphics" and then smile when you see the balloons, banners, and baseballs load with ease. Double click on any graphic you want, and it will add automatically to the picture. Here, you can use the Move tool to manipulate the image however you need to--whether it needs to be bigger or smaller, straightened or catty-cornered. Add whatever your heart desires: mustaches, thought bubbles, hammers and ukeleles. And eventually, you'll end up with an image that looks more like this:

And this, ladies and gents, is what makes Photoshop my favorite photo-editing software, ever. 

I hope this tutorial has proven to be a helpful jump-off point for those who wonder how I create the images that drive Abby Gabs. If I've only managed to confuse you further, I apologize. What works for me might not work for you. Especially since I'm the kind of person who finds a black cat in a Marilyn Monroe wig hilarious.

Another Weight Loss Video Blog

It's been awhile since I updated everyone, so here is the latest in the series of weight loss video blogs I'm calling "ARRRGH! An Abby Gabs Video Blog." Believe me, it will all make sense eventually. Enjoy.

Can't see the blog? Point your browser here ----> http://youtu.be/1duYx422N0I

I'm linking up again with Yeah Write. From what I understand, it's a little untraditional to submit a video blog for these linky parties. Oh well, I'm nothing if not a rebel. Make sure you stop by later in the week to vote for your 3 favorite blogs that are posted! (I won't judge you if you don't pick Abby Gabs. Much.)


**EDIT** Turns out, the song I had in my head had nothing to do with being frustrated. In fact, Offspring was singing about keeping things separated. What can I say? I think my lyrics are better.

Abby Gabs: Solving Your Problems, One Blog At A Time

A few weeks ago, I introduced the "Dear Abby Gabs" tab at the top of the page, hoping that readers and fellow bloggers alike would spring to action, asking me thought-provoking questions and tempting me with creative blog ideas.


Alas, that has not been the case. If that tab were a room, all you'd hear upon entering is crickets.

Now, I know that my fan base is made up of hardworking, busy-bee, super-sexy folks with a ton of get-up-and-go. So, expecting you to come flooding out of the woodwork and inundate me with questions about my humble little blog was probably a little bit supercilious of me. But, in the spirit of teamwork, I'd hoped even a few of you would come forward. Since you haven't, I'm going to show you how much fun it would be to read a weekly (monthly? quarterly?) post in which I answer your most burning questions. 


My first pretend email came to me by way of CoffeeLover 129. She asks:

Dear Abby Gabs,

I see you are an avid coffee drinker, as well. What do you do when you forget to take your favorite coffee mug with you to work? Or worse yet, it gets lost in the shuffle from home to work and back again? 

Thanks for your speedy response, 

CoffeeLover 129

Yes, CL, I do love me some coffee. Especially since the hubs bought me a Keurig one-cup coffee maker for Valentine's Day. I can't get through the morning with a steaming hot cup of my favorite Vermont Country Blend! Oh, no! 

The answer to your question is a simple one, really, and you can choose which option will work best for you. You can always peruse the desks of your fellow coworkers, looking for a replacement. (Note: You may consider wearing funny disguises when you visit the coffee pot with a stolen mug.) Or, if you're desperate, you can always substitute different crockery for your morning caffeine fix. May I suggest a cereal bowl?

Bottoms up!

The next inquiry comes to us all the way from Alaska! JunoJoe writes:

Dear Abby Gabs,

I have this hilarious picture of my dog (who looks remarkably like your brother's dog, Charlie) and I really want to turn it into something special for my friends and family. But I don't even begin to know how to work Photoshop. Can you help me?

Thanks a million,

JunoJoe

Joe's dog, Brownie.

Well, Joe, there's nothing more special (or funny) than a motivational poster, am I right? Why not try this on for size?

Or perhaps you'd rather go the more traditional route?

Or maybe you're geek chic, like me?

Either way, these posters are sure to put your friends in stitches! Enjoy, Joe!

The final question for today's post comes from IWantToBeAbbyWhenIGrowUp13. She writes:

Dear Abby Gabs,

I have a friend who just got some not-so-happy news. I don't know what to do or say to make her feel better! You're so amazingly talented and funny that surely you must have a solution to my dilemma! 

Please Help!

IWantToBeAbbyWhenIGrowUp13

Well, Wannabe, I wish I had the perfect answer for you. Truth be told, sometimes silly Photoshop photos and hilarious Twitter anecdotes aren't enough to pull even your best friend out of the bad news blues. The best advice I can give is to be whatever she needs, whenever she needs it. 

Dust off that shoulder for her to cry on.
(Make sure you do it with Jay-Z Style.)

If she needs a disco dance party, you provide the disco ball and
cheesy Saturday Night Fever sound track.

If she needs wine therapy, bring the biggest bottles you can find.

Most importantly, Wannabe, just be there for your friend, no matter the outcome, and you'll both be a-ok. (Did we suggest wine? Ok, just checking. Retail therapy works, too.)

So, readers, after seeing just how much awesome fun it could be to participate in an Ask Abby Gabs tab, don't you want to play? (It's ok if you don't. I'll understand.) (Well...I'll *pretend* to understand, and then I'll just make up more imaginary people who ask me interesting questions and write another blog about that, instead.) (No, really, it's ok. I have a very vivid imagination--hence my pretend relationship with Donnie Wahlberg.)

Contradictions

Somewhere inside of me, there's an athlete begging to be released.


I can hear her screaming, banging her fists against the wall, chanting numbers at me as I crunch, crunch, crunch my way to a thinner waistline. I can feel her inside of my brain, pushing me to run farther, run faster, run longer, even when my lungs and my legs want to give out. I can feel her spirit as it leaps in excitement every time I lace up my cross trainers and strap on my heart rate monitor. 


She's within me. Somewhere.


When I reach for that second helping of starch, My Inner Athlete directs my spoon toward the roasted winter vegetables instead. She steadies my hand that sweetens my coffee every morning, speaks to me through nectarines at the grocery store, and steers me away from the cookies in the bakery. It's My Inner Athlete that causes my eyes to pop open an hour before my alarm is set to go off. She's right there, in my head, whispering "Take to the road, wake up your calf muscles, let's burn some calories before sunrise."

"It's hard to beat a person who never gives up."

I can feel her, slowly taking over my thought processes, sending me, the Fat Girl, into an emotional tailspin.


Each time I make the decision to put myself and my health first, the Fat Girl in me cries out. "You can't do this! It's too hard! You're just going to fail again!" She whines with every lunge, weeps with every squat, begs me to stop each time I increase the speed on the treadmill. She keeps me up at night, nagging me with sore muscles, taunting me with cravings for foods I don't need, waving my shortcomings in my face like so many flags.


Last night, I completed an entire Army PRT program. With support from Dana and guidance from Justin, I power jumped, dead lifted, and half jacked with the best of them. By the end of the conditioning drills, I felt faint. Exhausted. Nauseous. Sore. 


And inexplicably, utterly defeated. 


My Inner Athlete was nowhere to be seen. When I should have been singing my own praises, I was instead left drowning in self doubt. I climbed into my car, drove to the stop sign, put the car in park, and wept. The Fat Girl was singing in my head. "I told you it was too hard! You're too big for this! You can't keep up with trained athletes!"


I dialed my husband's cell phone, begged off grocery duty, turned my car toward home instead of the store. And halfway there, My Inner Athlete finally broke through, shouting over the din of the Fat Girl. "Are you seriously going to let some sore muscles stop you? You just completed a friggin' bootcamp workout. Why are you sobbing like a baby?? Get over yourself, woman! YOU'VE GOT THIS!!"


Her words broke through, and the tears stopped immediately. I slammed on the brakes, made an illegal U-turn and headed straight for that grocery store. Because if I could do V-squats and mountain climbers and 8-count pushups, I sure as hell could pick up some ground beef, zucchinis, creamer, and cat food.

source

In that moment, the Fat girl shut up. In that moment, My Inner Athlete won.


One day soon, the Fat Girl will be gone forever. Because as I'm shedding pounds and inches, I'm also shedding my insecurities, my past, my fear, my failures, and my Fat Girl.


I may not be running marathons or even miles (yet) but I'm getting there. I'm getting stronger and stronger with each passing day. And every time I listen to My Inner Athlete, I make the right decision. For my family, for my husband, for my health. For me.

source

Cupid and Candies and Hearts, Oh My!

Today, I could regale you with copious romantic platitudes. (After all, I'm married to the most wonderful man on the planet. I've got platitudes coming out my ears.)

I could weave a story about true love and star crossed lovers, enchantment and amour. (You did read about how Brian proposed, right?)

I could spend hours putting together a 3 minute slideshow, created with sweet and silly pictures of me with my husband, with a saccharine-sweet love song playing gently in the background. (Oh, wait...I already did that too, didn't I?)

I could tell you all about how I really feel about Valentine's Day, old school photos included.

On the flip side, I could pound my chest and stand with the many people who hate this holiday. I could write a scathing review of {insert your least favorite part of Valentine's Day here} and refuse to take part in {that other thing about Valentine's Day that you hate.}

Maybe I could even write a blog about the history of St. Valentine, and my confusion of his link to sappy Hallmark cards and chocolate hearts.

But why would I want to do all that stuff? Why, when on this day, and everyday, I just want to celebrate the one love to rival all other loves? (See, this is what happens when you're married to the Most Perfect Man. Valentine's Day turns into a big ol' fat celebration.)

And today's celebration is done with true Abby Gabs Flair.

So stand back and enjoy while I don my Cupid wings to tell Brian I love him...

And I hope you'll forgive me if I strike up the band, grab my favorite instrument, and kick-start a parade. Because today, I'm celebrating the greatest husband in the world. (That's you, Brian!)

Click to inspect this photo closely for even more belly laughs.

What? Too much. Over the top? Way over the line? Let me simplify things a bit, then...

I Love You, Brian.

Nah.

That's way too simplistic.

Love is way better when it's loopy, out-of-control, crazy love.

And Photoshop makes everything better.

Happy Valentine's Day, readers! 

My Ball and Chain

It's a brisk, sunny, perfectly normal Sunday morning. I'm driving along, minding my own business, thinking about the beautiful nectarines I just purchased at the grocery store, when it happens. Just in my peripheral vision, I see it. Flashing, sparkly, almost beautiful if not for its ominous nature.

I take a few deep breaths. Surely, this isn't happening now. Not while I'm driving. I spend the next few seconds trying to convince myself that my eyes are just tired. I blink, slowly, three times. It's only when I stop at a red light and focus that I understand what is happening. The fuzziness is spreading across my line of vision, and I'm in for a really long day.

In the ten minutes it takes me to get home, it has moved from my peripheral into the center of my vision. The road, the sky, the trees, the oncoming traffic---all are out of focus. I'm mostly blind now, the aura devouring my sense of sight.

My heart pounds with anxiety until I finally reach my driveway. I'm careful to stop a few feet from my usual parking spot so I'm sure not to hit the fence. I gather my belongings, the few bags of groceries, and shuffle quickly to my house. I fumble for what feels like 10 minutes with my keys, unable to tell which one opens my front door from the dozen others dangling from my chain. I finally find it, slide it home, and as open the door, the pain begins to set in. 


At first, it's just a slight ache above my right eye. Still blind from the aura, I clumsily put away the groceries, double-and-triple checking that all the perishables have been shoved, probably haphazardly, into the fridge. With shaking hands I turn on the faucet and fill a glass with water. My pills are in the bathroom cabinet, I think to myself, and I don't even bother with the light as I throw open the doors and start rummaging through bottles. The first one I pull out is too big. The second is too small. The third is clearly a brown prescription bottle, but I know there is more than one brown bottle inside the cabinet. I hold it up close to my face, peering at the label through the tiny pinhole of vision that is remotely focused. Bingo. Pain meds. I carefully drop two into my palm, tighten the lid, and down the pills with the glass of water. I start to put the bottle back into the cabinet, and on second thought, carry it with me to the bedroom. 


At this point, the pain has increased to a sharp pain that radiates from my right eye socket to just behind my right ear. I draw the shades, close the door, and crawl, fully clothed, into bed. I retreat into sleep, though I know I'll be a prisoner until the pain releases me, weak, exhausted, defeated.


When I wake, the pain is staggering. Both hands are tingling. I briefly wonder if I'm having a stroke. It takes all my strength to lift my head and glance at the clock.  Twenty six minutes. I got twenty six minutes of sleep thanks to the meds before the pain grips me and shakes me awake. The only good news to report is that the aura is mostly gone. I can clearly read the four numbers blinking across the face of my alarm clock. Only the shadows in the corner are slightly blurred.


I flip my pillow over, to the cool side, and bury my face in the soft cotton. I can feel the tears just behind my eyes, but I know crying will only intensify the pain. So I stamp them down, refuse to let them come. I spend some time telling the muscles in my neck and shoulders to relax, knowing the tension is from pain, and knowing they will ache later when my head no longer throbs. I wish for a glass of wine, a shot of whiskey, anything strong enough to make the pain stop. I wish for my husband, although the best he can do for me is rub my back, calm me down, hold my hand.


I will watch the clock for the next four hours, waiting for the minute hand to reach the six before I grab for my medicine bottle again, downing two more pills, desperate for a few more minutes of escape. And this cycle will continue, every four hours, until the migraine releases me from its clutches and allows me some peace.

Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday to You...

It's finally here---my one year anniversary writing Abby Gabs!  

What's this? You got me a birthday cake??
With DONNIE WAHLBERG jumping out of it?!?!?
Why, readers, you shouldn't have! *snort*

On February 10, 2011, this silly little blog--with too much punctuation, crazily Photoshopped images, and my own brand of humor--was born. My, how the time has flown. What started out as a way to pass the time has become my creative outlet, my safe place to vent, and the thing that exercises my brain on a daily basis. 


In short, I've loved every single minute of it.


That includes the days I've fought my computer for hours just to complete a post, my occasional bouts of writer's block, and my constant struggle with Blogger as a delivery system.


In an age when so many of my favorite bloggers are hanging up their hats to pursue a different dream, I have to tell you, readers, I have no such plans. I love my blog. I love everything about it. It may not be much, it may not be internationally known, but it's a little piece of me out in the world. And for this chick, that's enough. (For now. Until I publish my world class novel that you will all read and adore. Someday...)


I'm grateful for every single reader--from those of you who comment on a daily basis, to those who drop by on the weekends just to take a peek. It is your enthusiasm, your dedication, your ideas that fuel my blog. For those who come up to me in person and start our conversation with "Your blog today made me laugh/cry/think/snort chocolate milk through my nose"---I thank you. For those who leave thoughtful comments and critiques---I thank you. For those who forward my blog to their friends, mothers, co-workers, and dogs---I thank you. And for those of you who may be newcomers--whether you found me on Twitter or through a linky, or by Googling the phrase "squashed dancing banana"---welcome, and I hope you'll stay awhile. 


Today, we celebrate my little corner of the internet--the one where you learned all about my fear of spiders, my undying love for my childhood crush (Donnie Wahlberg), and my quirky but adorable husband. I've told you about my struggles with weight loss, infertility, and my own insecurities. We've laughed together, cried together, and pondered over which Saturday morning cartoon from 1989 was the best. 


And today, on our first birthday, I'm going to give you the gift of Gab. For your reading pleasure, here are my favorite blogs from every month since February 2011. Enjoy.

A Year of Abby Gabs

February:  A Funny Story (At My Husband's Expense) -- (Published 2/18/11)

The one and only thing my husband is scared of, and how squealing like a teenage girl at a Justin Bieber concert is the best way to handle it. This was my first foray into the world of Photoshop.


March: Let's Pretend We're 8 Again -- (Published 3/22/11)

If only we could have a Do-Over Button in real life, being an adult would be SO much easier. Also, this post introduces you to my Donnie Wahlberg obsession. One month in. No surprises there.

April:  Childhood Memories -- (Published 4/11/11)

This post has everything that is great about Abby Gabs. Silly Photoshopped photos, a New Kids on the Block reference, a relevant (and funny) You Tube video, and a story that my parents still tell to this day. And all because I got a Get In Shape Girl Ribbon for Christmas...

May: Letter to My Daughter -- (Published 5/12/11)

I really just wanted Abby Gabs to be a humor blog, and started it for that very reason. But it became clear to me relatively soon after starting it that it could be so much more than a goofy blog with goofy pictures. This was one of the first times I published anything serious, and also the first post I've written on our struggles with infertility. I still can't read it without crying. But I know that I'll always have it here, to cherish and hopefully, one day, share.

June: They Say Dreams Do Come True -- (Published 6/13/11)

My 30th birthday post -- and the day that Donnie Wahlberg wished me a Happy Birthday on Twitter. It was *ALMOST* as exciting as the day he followed me on Twitter. (It would have been more so if he'd spelled my name right. And also, that I could be sure he meant me and not some other Abby with an E in her name.)

July: Everybody Loves Abby, Especially Me (Brian's First Guest Post) -- Published 7/29/11

On days when I feel sad, or overwhelmed, or like I'm never going to be any better than I am today, I read this post. It was Brian's first (and only, to date) guest post. And it makes my heart swell Every. Single. Time.

August: Friday Fright Night -- (Published 8/20/11)

Not only is this one of several spider-hating posts, but it's also the first time I combined my Photoshopping skills with my terrible drawing abilities. (I use the word "abilities" lightly.)

September: Humiliation Central -- (Published 9/12/11)

Only the single most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me. Ever. (I'm not kidding.)

October: Three Hundred and Sixty Five Days -- (Published 10/25/11)

I don't know what to say about this post other than to tell you that it was the hardest one I've ever written. And I sat on it for 7 months before posting it. It seemed fitting to blog about my husband's battle with cancer on the anniversary of the day we found out he would survive. I shared our story in the only way I knew how---with words.

November: Five Things I'm Grateful For Today (After Seeing Breaking Dawn Part 1, The Midnight Show) -- (Published 11/18/11)

There were a few different blogs I could have chosen for November, but I chose this one for one simple reason: this photo. I've done a lot of Photoshopping in my time, but this one is hands down my favorite. (The post is pretty funny, too.)

December: This Morning, I Became an Assassin. -- (Published 12/20/11)

Photoshop meets bad drawing again in this epic tale of my battle with the world's largest insect. In my bathroom. While I was naked. (Seriously, do you need anything else to prompt you to click that link?)

January: Adding Another Resolution to 2012 -- (Published 1/12/12)

This post was about one of those conversations that causes you to rethink how you are living your life. It profoundly affected me, and I hope by sharing it, it makes you think, too.

February: It's Just One Of Those Days... -- (Published 2/6/12)

There have only been a handful of posts so far this month, but this one stands out as being the fan favorite. Also, it goes down in Abby Gabs history as having the most comments on any single post, ever. Yay!

I hope you've enjoyed reading through these, my 12 favorite posts, from this year of Gabs. I know I had a blast re-reading and choosing them all. Now, onward to Year #2! Who knows what's in store!