Our Friends Rock

Sometimes, life gets stressful. 

And sometimes, when the stress begins to boil over and we start to look for an outlet to help us cope, social media, inevitably, becomes involved.

That happened with Team Abby Gabs yesterday. Concern over money--paired with lack of sleep, impatience regarding paperwork, a problem with our bank, and taxes--led to a monumental breakdown, all available for your viewing pleasure on my husband's Facebook page.

Suffice it to say that our friends and family were concerned, especially when you factor in the part about how my husband NEVER loses his cool, especially during a rant on the internet.

Brian, in no way, intended to worry anyone about our welfare. He may have blown the situation out of proportion just a tiny bit, and it may have all been a reflection of the mini-mental breakdown he had yesterday morning. 

You can't blame the guy. He's had a LOT on his plate the last few years, and it all boiled down to WILL I GET MY NURSING LICENSE IN TIME TO START THIS WEEK, YES OR NO, IT BETTER BE YES OR I WILL BE REALLY ANGRY ARRRRRRRGH.

Regardless, there it was, all over Facebook. Our dirty laundry. 

The response could have been anything ranging from "Who needs a hug?" to "Who needs a Valium and a hug?" In truth, I wouldn't have blamed most of our family and friends if they'd tossed their hands up in the air and backed away slowly. (Because it really is very, very, very rare for Brian to lose his cool, in any situation.)

It all started with a phone call. Someone I've been friends with nearly half of my life called to check in, offer support, and asked if she could wire us some money.

Within half-an-hour, I'd gotten text messages from four other friends, a few personal messages on Facebook, and an email.

Eleven a.m. rolled around with a knock at my door, and a dear friend bearing an armload of groceries, so she could stock our empty fridge.

By five p.m., I had a dinner invitation for one night this week, another for one night next week, and a third to be called in 'whenever it's needed.'

And as I was logging off last night, headed to bed, I got another message from a friend who heard about our stress, jumped into action, and secured a mini-spa-day, just us girls.

As I turned out the lights, I was left feeling humbled, grateful, and unquestionably blessed. The outpouring of love we received was enormous, and I'm still riding that wave today. Thanks to each and everyone of you! Whether it was a text message, a phone call, or a grand gesture, we thank you. 

Simply put, you guys rock.

I Survived The Red Roof Inn

Brian and I recently took a little overnight trip to Columbia, so he could take his state boards. Considering the fact that we're still on a "student" budget (until he gets his nursing license) we weren't willing to spend much on a hotel room for the night. 

Brian found a great deal on the internet for a room less than five miles from the testing center for $43 a night.

Naturally, I was slightly skeptical. But Brian, who's much better at being frugal than I am, was adamant.

"We're just going to be there for a few hours. To study, to sleep, and to shower. That's it. How bad could it be?"

Tuesday night, we checked in, got our keys, and were directed to room 122. We unloaded our bags and headed to our room. Upon first glance, it looked like we were the only ones staying in the hotel. And as we approached room 122, our theory was confirmed. 

The rooms weren't just empty, they were all under construction.

Thanks to all the practice, I felt my eyebrows automatically go into "The Rock" position. (It really is so handy in instances like this one.)

But I kept my mouth shut. After all, it was my chance to show solidarity. Team Abby Gabs, for the win. 

And since the rooms on either side of us were empty, I was slightly relieved to know there wouldn't be any drug deals or hooker sightings going down while I tried to watch reruns of Betty White's 'Off Their Rockers' on the twenty-four inch television.

Upon first inspection, the room wasn't all that bad. It was clearly newly renovated, and even smelled a bit like fresh paint. 

Upon second inspection, I couldn't keep my mouth shut. So I went around the room, pointing out all the things wrong with it.

Abby: There are ants on the bathroom vanity.
Brian: Pretend we're camping. It's fine.
Abby: Do you hear that? I think the toilet is humming.
Brian: Call it white noise and come to bed. It's fine.
Abby: So I just tried to brush my teeth, and when I turned on the water in the sink, it also came out of the shower.
Brian: That will come in handy if one of us is brushing our teeth while the other is showering. No big deal. It's fine.
Abby:  We only have one towel. And it's a hand towel.
Brian: I'm sure I can fix that. I'll just go up to the front desk and ask. Don't worry. It's fine.

So off he went to the front desk. When he asked for towels, the manager told him she was going to have to "find some." 

Ghetto-fabulous status, confirmed.

Exhausted from my criticism of the room as a whole, I decided to just let the whole thing go and settle in for the night. Pajamas were donned, teeth brushed, and bed checked for stray hairs and stains. And then I climbed into bed, hoping beyond hope that it would be the diamond in the rough that was the cave of our hotel room.

OMG, the bed. I'm convinced it wasn't really a mattress, but a pile of all the hard things in the world covered with a scratchy comforter.

We took out Brian's lap top and flash cards, and pretended we were comfortable on the rock-hard king-size "mattress" while we studied for his test.

Needless to say, sleep was elusive.

Wednesday morning, I drove Brian to the nearby testing center, dropped him off, and headed back to the ghetto fabulous hotel to shower, pack up, and check out. I was only slightly nervous about being in this part of town all alone (<--understatement of the century.) In order to assuage my nerves, I took my iPhone into the bathroom with me, in lieu of a radio. There were no shelves or anything to support my phone, so I put it on the floor in the corner. Eighties tunes bumping, I hopped in for a quick shower.

Ten minutes later, freshly scrubbed and wholly relaxed, I wrapped up in one of the three tiny towels we'd managed to procure from the front desk, whipped open the shower curtain, and stared at the floor in horror.

The tub had flooded the entire bathroom. The only dry space was the 1 foot square around my iPhone. And the water was quickly infringing upon that space.

I hopped out of the tub, snatched up my cell phone, and put it up on the safety of the bed. Then, butt-naked, I proceeded to try and mop up about six gallons of water with 3 towels the size of postage stamps.

By the time Brian called and said he was ready for me to come pick him up, I was MORE THAN READY to check out of this hotel. 

A little while later, as we chatted over our pancakes, I told Brian the story of the Great Flood of Room 122. Expecting him to finally relent and confess that the room was horrible, I was surprised with his response.

"It was the Red Roof Inn. Not the Ritz Carlton. You survived. It's fine."

I need a t-shirt.

For those who are curious, Brian did very well on his test. We won't find out his official results for a few days, but he's confidant that he passed. Thanks to all who texted, called, or sent messages of support! Hopefully, the next time we stay in a hotel, we'll be able to afford the Ritz Carlton instead. Or at least we'll be able to afford to design and purchase the awesome t-shirt seen above.

I Haz Lasers.

Either I ate something really weird before bed, or I'm having subconscious delusions of grandeur, because I had some doozy of a dream the other night. It was the kind of dream that, when I woke up, I immediately started jotting down notes so I could blog about it. It was weird, and epic, and somewhat sci-fi-y, all in the same brain blip.

So, in the dream, I'm at the optometrist's office, being fitted for new glasses. Brian is sitting behind me, playing Star Wars Angry Birds on his phone, while the doctor flashes the light in my eyes, asking me a string of questions. When the interview is over, he flips on the lights, clears his throat, and informs us that I'm going to need eye surgery to correct my vision. No contact lenses or cat-eye frames are going to do the trick.

In dream land, there's no paperwork or waiting involved. You just flash forward to the day after the surgery is done. I'm sitting in a hospital bed, my head wrapped in bandages. Brian is sitting beside me playing Star Wars Angry Birds on his phone. 

And then the doctor comes in to reveal my shiny new eye sight.

When the bandages come off, not only can I see with perfect vision for the first time since my early twenties, but I can even read the serial number off the bottom of the television on the other side of the room.  WOWZA! That's some surgery!!

The doctor informs me that, for the first forty-eight hours or so after the surgery, I can expect to be amazed by all the many things I can see that I couldn't see before. Then, he promised, it would be just like normal for me. So, we packed up and headed home.

Flash forward again, and I'm bundled up on the couch with Brian, happily watching Doctor Who reruns sans glasses. A shadow passes in the corner of my eye, and I look up. That's when I see it---a giant spider, sneakily snuggled in the corner above our DVD shelf. It's the size of a chihuahua, and not the tea cup kind.

I leap up, shedding afghans and unceremoniously dumping my husband on the floor, and shout, "SPIDER!"

At that point, red lasers come shooting out of my freshly fixed eyeballs, leaving nothing but a black ring of ash where the arachnid used to be.

Insanity ensues. Brian freaks out, spewing information about joining the X-Men and hitting up the Hobby Lobby for red spandex so he can make me a cape. And then, when things settle down, we make a list of all the many different things I can fry with my newfound laser vision.

And then my alarm clock went off. So we'll add it to the list as well.

Wait For Us, Band Wagon!!

Guess who's jumping on the "Let's Lose Weight Because It's The New Year And We're Really Fat" band wagon!

If you guessed Team Abby Gabs, then you'd be 100% right!!

Of course, we're not doing it just because it's January. Yes, everybody else is bustling to their local 24-hour gymnasiums, buying stock in fad diet books, and venturing out in the wee hours to buy bigger stretchy pants for their afternoon jogs. But that's not the reason we're doing it.

Between the two of us, Brian and I definitely need to lose some weight. It seems there's some sort of mathematical equation that involves increasing ages, decreasing activity levels, and expanding waist lines. 

Who knew?

(Other than Oprah, that guy on the Biggest Loser, and Richard Simmons?)

At any rate, we've got our work cut out for us. The bad news? We've got at least 125 pounds to lose between the two of us. And that's a low-ball number.

The good news? (Fortunately, there's more good news than bad.) Brian is home 4 days a week now, so we actually have time to dedicate to fitness. And, better than that, he's totally on board with the whole thing. In fact, he's the one really driving us to start ASAP. (Had it not been for the monkey flu of death, we would have started at the 'official' beginning of the year. Whatever that means.)

Brian is so keen, he even posted the following on Facebook over the weekend:

(It's ok. You can gag over my response. We tend to be way mushier than most couples, both in real life and on social media websites. We can't help it---we strive to annoy people with our ooey-gooey-ness.)

I'm not going to lie, when I threw in the towel in 2012, there were several different reasons for it, none of them very good ones. The main reason, I'm ashamed to admit, was my own lack of conviction. Pair that with several extenuating circumstances (being dumped unceremoniously by someone I considered a dear friend, stress over Brian's last semester of nursing school, my overall knack for excellent laziness, and the temptation of food-oh-so-glorious-food) and what little bit of success I had early last year has been all but erased.

So, we're starting 2013 with a new slate. The fridge has been emptied of all junk food and refilled with fruit, lean meats, and plenty of vegetables. Our schedules are being created around planned exercise excursions. We plan on joining a local gym in the next several weeks so that we have somewhere to go for our workouts. (Because no matter what they tell you, as convenient as working out at home can be, it's way too easy for us Lazy Pants People to come up with an excuse not to do it.)

Our only rules going into this new phase of our lives? 

1) To concentrate on how we feel physically, and how our clothes fit, and how much energy we have--NOT a number on a scale.
2) To help each other through daily cravings, and allow ourselves to cave every now and then, for the sake of our own sanity.
3)To support each other completely, no matter what.

That's our plan for now. I'm sure you'll hear about it on the blog from time to time. And maybe, just maybe, if I'm a perfect wife, I can convince Brian to do a video blog with me to talk about our journey.

But I'm not making any promises, people. He's not shy, but he's not necessarily ready for his close-up yet either, Mr. Demille. 

I'm Always A Little Late To Every Party

So here I am, eleven days (11?!!??!?!?!?) into the shiny new year, and I'm just now getting around to writing an honest-to-goodness, real-life blog. 

What's that ya say, readers? "What's Up With THAT?"

Well, I'll tell you.

For starters, in case you missed it, Brian graduated about a month ago. Which means my man, in all his glory, has been home a LOT lately. That translates into...well...into this:

Pure. Unadulterated. Bliss.

There's been lots of sleeping, lots of snuggling, and lots of laughing. We've been socializing, taking road trips, going to movies, watching a TON of Doctor Who reruns, and just basically enjoying each other's company for the first time in practically three years.

If it hadn't been for all the working in between, it would have almost been like a vacation.

That being said, all this extra-super-fun-time has put a serious damper on my desire to write. Not because I don't want to, or because I don't have things to write about, but because I'd just rather be snuggling with my honey on the couch whilst playing Mario on our new Wii-U.

(Brian assures me that this honeymoon phase will pass. I'm not so sure.)

(Meaning, the honeymoon phase with him, not the Mario brothers. Although they're pretty adorable little plumbers. Mustaches and all.)

On top of all that quality time being spent, I'm also just getting over the monkey flu of death. It hit me like a ton of bricks a week ago today, and I spent at least 3 of the last 7 days totally sacked out in bed, unable to move much more than to blow my nose and beg weakly for more Sudafed.

After a week of nose-blowing, pill-popping, orange juice-drinking, and nap-taking, I think I've finally kicked the beastie's butt. At least, I'm showered, dressed, and upright for the first time in days. That's a major improvement. Trust me.

I crawled out of my cocoon of covers this morning just so I could get started on the new and improved Abby Gabs, all vamped up and ready for 2013! You'll notice a new banner, a new button, and a new theme that runs throughout my social media outlets (including Twitter and Facebook.) 

And that's all fine and dandy. 

But the addition to my blog that makes me the most excited???

The shiny new Pinterest button that joins my other social media links at the top of the page! How cute is that??? And now you can satisfy your deepest curiosity into what That Gabby Abby pins on a maniacal level daily basis. Because believe me when I say that I pin like a mad woman. It's the truth, friends and neighbors.

So, dear reader, I hope you'll accept my heartfelt apology in the late salutations. But in truth, 2013 really started for me today! So, in true Abby Gabs fashion, Happy 2013!!!

Holiday Card, The 2012 Edition

From our family to yours...

May your tree be oh-so-sparkly,

your stockings overflowing,

and your eggnog sufficiently spiked.

Merry Christmas!

Christmas in the South

Hooray!! December has arrived in all its glory! Please note that I have decorated Abby Gabs in the appropriate fashion to celebrate the season. And now, share with me another celebratory "Hooray!"

There is so much to love about this time of year. Twinkly lights, gift wrapping, baking marathons, cute clothes, even cuter shoes...it really is the best time of year. 

One of my favorite December pastimes is to brew myself up a piping hot cup of coffee, and watch the birds eating at my feeders.

The picture through my window is of a chilly winter's morning. The sky is grey and gloomy around these parts this time of year. Clouds threaten rain, the sun barely makes an appearance, and the grass gets all crinkly and dry. It's wintertime perfection.

Except...

If you actually venture out of doors, believing the picture out your window, you're in for a big surprise. Because in all reality, the weather in Charleston in December is less-than-snowy.

By noon, it is usually getting close to seventy degrees outside. Sure, we have had a few cold Christmases (we're talking upper thirties here, people.) But for the most part, the nine Christmases I've spent here in Charleston have been relatively warm.

Don't throw things at me, Readers From the North! Believe me when I say there are many a winters day that I miss having seasons. I miss the turning of the leaves, and the crispness in the air as summer turns to fall. I miss being able to find winter coats with substance, and ice scrapers for your car. I miss that feeling of frost "nippin' at your nose." I miss snuggly sweaters!!

However, I do not, in any way, shape, or form, miss snow.

So I'll take my seventy degree weather today. I'll still wear long sleeves and cute shoes, and just crack the windows or, in a drastic measure, turn on the air conditioning. I'll wear my favorite knitted hat and I'll crochet a dozen new scarves.

Because even if it is seventy degrees here today...

Photographic Evidence From My Awesome i-Phone

...it's still the holidays in my heart.



Ok, I just gagged a little. Sorry about that last line.