I am here with you, because I've been there

Last week, one of my cousins overseas had a baby. Apparently he was admitted into the ICU shortly after being born and we weren't getting any details. I cannot explain to you the terror my parents and I experienced those few days until we found out it was just an infection and that everything would be fine. The parents and the grandparents of this baby now have a minuscule glimpse at what that terror is. As much as they love us, that part of the family has never really been involved, so they have no idea what my parents went through all these years with literally no family around.

I pray they never have to find out.

***

This week, I had an 11-year-old patient whose paperwork said "status-post Fontan surgery." And suddenly the words became blurry. Fontan is not a word I see every day, and it took me by surprise, right back to those days of not knowing what was happening or what would happen, or if I'd ever get to see my brother again. I can't help but cry.

I don't have any idea how she found out, but my mom got wind of this patient and happened to bump into the kid's mother in the hall. Seventeen years ago, our family was in a similar situation. The other mother's first question? "Please tell me your son is 40!" After scolding the woman for thinking she was old enough to have a forty-year-old son, my mom told her all about my gem of a brother. Soon, they were both crying together. 

***

Yesterday, a friend from high school emailed me about a 19-month-old she knows who has been battling a heart condition since before even coming out into the world. And they have another (healthy) baby on the way. I am definitely sending love to her family, because I know it's not going to be easy, even though I really really hope that it will.

***

Basically, my heart breaks every time I think about how much my brother has suffered. And while it's such a miracle that he's 28, a college graduate who went away to school, has a real job that takes him all over the country and handles his business every single day--never once using his situation to make excuses, he will never be free from the medicine and the checkups and the memories. It's almost too much for me to even think about, let alone imagine. And I will never be free from my own set of memories. It kills me that there are other kids and other families out there that have to go through it too. All I can do is pray for them and hope that they will surround their kids with as much love as we have been lucky to have.

28 years, six days

My brother and I are opposites in pretty much every way. I tend to walk into a room of people I like with an exclamation announcing my arrival. When I get excited, I speak faster and louder. And I remember my mother telling me when I was a kid that "there's no need to show EVERY SINGLE ONE of your teeth when you smile." But I can't help it.

The kid, however, is slow to smile--he's got this thing my dad does where they aren't smiling but you know they really are because the dimple on the side of their chins turns into a wink (it's also the tipoff when my brother's lying). He enters a room quietly, observing what's going on. And usually everyone else in the room exclaims when they see it's him.

So even though I knew he was probably coming, it was still a nice surprise when he stopped by my office yesterday to say hello. Sadly, he's downtown this weekend and booked up nearly every second, so those few minutes are pretty much all I'll get to see him until he comes to town again. I didn't really even get to wish him a happy birthday.

I love you, bro. Don't make me have to get pregnant to get you to move home.

why I should write more stuff down

"So did we discuss everything that we were supposed to as we made this long drive and actually had time together?"

"I don't know, had you made a list?"

"In my mind. But as you know, that's sort of unreliable."

"I have always found your mind to be completely illegible. I've never been able to read it."

-- Posted From My iPhone--everybody needs an editor.

road trip!

Very shortly, Jon and I will be driving his little red car from my future in-laws' house in California to Illinois. By the end of the trip, I hope to be confident driving a manual transmission vehicle outside of a high school parking lot. And have a lot of random postcards.

Any suggestions on places to stop?


-- Posted From My iPhone--everybody needs an editor.

in the future i'll rephrase when asking for "a little bite" of his lunch

"Ugh. I don't know in what universe I thought I could have completed this thing by today. I've been working on this for two hours now and only finished like five inches."

"Sadly, this is a common problem. You always seem to bite off more than you can chew with these types of projects."

"C'mon, you know me. I bite off more than I can chew with EVERYTHING I do. But then I somehow manage to chew it all."

"I know. I've seen you eat sandwiches."

birthday

After that last post, particularly the "this is a Cadiz post, of course" bit, I decided to take the advice of some of you to revamp my attitude.  Some of you remember the failed "no complaining" experiment of 2006. But today is a day of birth and rebirth, so we're going to give it a go. This year will (hopefully) be about focusing on the positive.

I am so thankful for all the love and support in my life. And, as always, it's always the little things that say the most.Yesterday our volunteer, Susan, brought homemade red velvet cupcakes into the office before I clocked in. They nearly disappeared almost as soon as she set them down, so not one but three different people grabbed one and set it aside so I'd be sure to get one when I got there. And that doesn't include the one my mom had.

When people can keep a red velvet cupcake on their desk and refrain from eating it, just for you? Damn, that's love. And don't get me started on my family and friends. You guys are all the best.

the closer we get, the farther apart we are

So Jon and I finally attained our goal of being in the same zip code for what we hope to be a long long long long time. We've been here for almost three months.

HOORAY!

I continue to work evenings--generally 11:30a-8:30p. This will probably go on into the unforeseeable future as my shift is the least desirable/hardest to cover and my counterparts aren't going to be retiring anytime in the next two decades.

Jon got a new job.

HOORAY!

It's no longer in the city (no more getting up at the bootycrack of dawn to get him to the train). It's a not-temp position for a bit more money. He will be out of the house for about the same amount of time but be paid for more of those hours than before! And there's benefits!

HOORAY!

But this is a Cadiz post, so of course there's a downside, right? He starts at 4a, gets home at 2:30p and will be sleeping by the time I get home. I am sleeping when he has to get up. At least when we were in our various forms of longdistance we could talk to each other in real time.

wah, waaaaaaaaaaah.

I know, I know, this is an awesome development. It really is. Did you check out the font sizes on those HOORAYs? There are people with even crazier schedules than ours, some of whom have kids. I'm certain we can make this work, even if it means one or both of us has to take two naps instead of a full night's sleep. And there are always Sunday mornings, which have generally been pretty great.

But I can't help but feel like we're stuck in a Paula Abdul video.

Vrrrrrrrrrrrroooooooooooooooom!

Way back in 2005, I professed on a list of hundred things about myself that I have always wanted to drive a race car at regulation speed. Jon must have been paying attention, because for this past Valentine's Day, I got a certificate to Chicago Indoor Racing, good for lessons and two spins around the track. We redeemed them this weekend with a work friend of mine who purchased the same gift for her fiance's birthday.

Technically, they're very fancy go-karts, but they're low to the ground and go up to 30 mph so it was still totally awesome. Plus it felt much more official wearing jumpsuits and helmets.

This is the starting line. The action shots I got just showed blurs.

I didn't finish nearly as well as I felt I had--something like 9th in the first race on Track 1 and 7th in the second on Track 2 (Jon placed 6th and 4th). Not to make excuses, but general consensus was that the rule-flouting people in our race who had no problem cutting us off and actually hitting people have probably done this before.

I feel like I look like a groupie in this picture. That was not my intention. Maybe next time J will be MY groupie.

Next time we take a spin, I'd like to be in a bigger group of people that we all know. Do I smell bachelor/bachelorette party?

apparently one CAN live without television...sort of

As you've seen before, we've decided to downgrade our television-viewing opportunities (no cable/dish). The only channel we get clearly without acrobatics is Fox. And we always happen to turn it on during shows I don't particularly care for, such as the Family Guy spinoff about Cleveland.

But with my long-held devotion to Netflix and a not-dialup Internet connection--on top of the fact that we're both working so much that we barely have time to sit down on the couch--I don't even miss it.

Isn't that shocking? ME, not miss tv?!? I know.

So I've taken to getting the bulk of my daily television allowance by walking through patient waiting areas (I could dedicate a whole other post to how all the tvs in the various departments tend to be tuned to the same things at the same times: Access Hollywood, Ellen, Dancing with the Stars, The Biggest Loser and local news). And I also watch in the department breakroom.

The tv in the breakroom is hooked into the hospital-wide system, which has sort of an On Demandlike option for movies. So over the last few months I've seen 30-minute snippets of dozens of films that I will inevitably add to my Netflix queue just to see the endings. This is awesome because a) the queue is getting robust again, and b) I can sort of pre-screen the films.

The downside?


The On Demandlike program is completely controlled by the patients. As you can see, if some guy in the room that supplies our tv feed decides he needs to pee during The Blind Side, he can pause it. And I eat my dal and rice, patiently hoping he comes back. The worst is watching them decide. I see them flipping back and forth and back and forth andbackandforthandbackandforth. I usually eat at 4:30, often by myself, and wonder if people can hear me screaming at the television for that patient to just choose "Up" already because time is ticking on my lunch hour.

Why don't I just give up and watch regular tv, with cable? Because even watching some patient play solitaire is more appealing to me than having to sit through commercials.

human conductor

Things are getting somewhat settled--albeit VERY SLOWLY--in the new apartment, but one thing that's hard to get used to is that the only channel we can get in here without some serious acrobatics is Fox* (which wouldn't be so bad if my work schedule didn't overlap with So You Think You Can Dance. Don't tell me what's happening; I'm hoping to catch a marathon of the current season soon).

But the World Cup is An Event, so we pulled out the big guns. Jon had made this very fancy antenna when we were in the condo, and as you can see we are able to get ABC. But only if we hold it juuust so.

Excuse the hair. I didn't want to miss anything by trying to fix it after I jumped out of the shower.

I had to hold the antenna at a different place than Jon did (of course we took turns); who knows what conducting a signal with your torso for a few hours does to your body.

What I lacked in jumping up and down, I made up for in yelling. My dad would have been proud, if he weren't busy jumping up and down and yelling in his own living room.**

The neck pain was totally worth seeing Espana win it all. Sorry, Ale, your guys played a hell of a tournament, but after the U.S. and India, I always root for Spain.





*No cable or dish--we're trying to save for a wedding.
**We were worried about missing something if we drove over to my parents' house to see the extra time.

After 765* days on the market, the condo is sold.

A lot has happened since that post about the fortune cookies. If you don't want to read it all, I will not be offended. Bolded parts will give you the gist.

• We switched realtors. Our old realtor was fancy, but I think too concerned with the million-dollar properties he was dealing with. Our new realtor is my friend from high school named Mala Gandhi with Coldwell Banker who is PHENOMENAL (she deserves her own post). I am kicking myself for not asking her at the outset due to a misconception that she only worked in the suburbia. Seriously, email me if you're selling/buying anywhere in suburbs/Chicago; I will hook you up.

• We got an offer on our first showing with Mala. Unfortunately, the buyer wouldn't budge on his offer and decided to go with one of the 18 foreclosures in the building. :(

• We got an offer on our third showing with Mala. This one really seemed promising. We bargained and came to an agreement. After two years this was actually going to happen! We were excited.

• I visited CC in San Diego. We did so much awesome stuff, including hanging out in Coronado at the hotel where Some Like It Hot was shot, as well as fancy high tea.

• In exchange for the plane tickets, Jon and I shot his friends' wedding in LA, much like we did with that friend's sister at about the same time at the same location last year. We tried very very hard not to repeat stuff from last year, as a lot of the guests were the same, but it was a whole different ballgame.

• We were supposed to close at this point on the condo. But because regulations have gotten so tight on lenders, they perform checks at the beginning of the process as well as at the end. This buyer is very solid; there was no problem with him. However he wants it as an investment to rent out, and for that Fannie Mae requires the building to be at least 51% owner-occupied. At the start of the deal 246 units in our building were owner-occupied. The day before close? 251. And that was enough to derail our sale. I was DEPRESSED, because all around us, units were dropping prices like insects smacked dead against a wall. If this deal didn't happen, we wouldn't be able to compete with those foreclosures and thus would continue giving all our money to the mortgage and not be able to move on with life until this economy turns around. You know, when we're 87.

• One of my BFFs Highcon is a superduper rockstar at his job. In appreciation, his company awarded him an all-expenses paid, four-day trip to The Bahamas. For two. He asked me to come "because I've had a rough couple of years." So--with Jon's blessing--I went. It was awesome; especially swimming with dolphins. Thank heaven for BFFs.

• Basically in the time it took for me to fly home from Nassau, the deal with the same buyer somehow was back on track with a new lender. Closing was set for June 4.

• We lost the money I had hastily put down on an apartment near the train station (so Jon could get to work) before the first closing. But I didn't feel so terrible when he spotted two little squirrel faces poking out of a hole in the roof above our potential unit.

• Mala found us another apartment for a good price. We signed the lease and cleaned the heck out of it. It's not nearly as nice as the condo I was selling, but really, what is?

• Closing was set for 9 a.m. Jon and I stayed up late packing, so when my parents showed up at 5:30 (there has been a LOT of construction and they didn't want to be late) we tried to get them to go out for breakfast so we could sleep a little more. But we were awake already, so we just got going. Over the next 60 hours, we got a total of 6.5 hours' sleep.

• There were several other snags during closing that I don't have the energy to explain, but let's just say we got to know our buyer pretty well as we sat there for four and a half hours before the deal was done. It didn't feel real until I handed him the keys. Nice guy. I hope the renters he gets don't completely destroy the upgrades (esp the beautiful but soft bamboo floor) we worked so hard to make.

• Moving was a NIGHTMARE. Between the lack of sleep and the lack of food (I had an egg sandwich and OJ and Jon had a Jamba Juice, that is all) and the stress of trying to get out of there by the end of the night, it was not our best day, with our next worst day nowhere near close behind. If I had to deal with us that day, we would have been smacked. My brother happened to be in town and saved our butts on more than one occasion.

• Our good friends MFM and A got a babysitter so they could help us move. We thought we'd be in suburbia with a truck full of stuff by 5. They were going to help us try and squeeze the couch and other big furniture into the 1960s elevator. Sadly, at 5 p.m., not even half of our stuff was into the truck back in the city. I called them at about 7 to let them know to eat because we weren't going to make it to the apartment at a decent hour, but forgot to add that they should probably go home. They waited around for us at the mall until 9:45. And that day was their 5th wedding anniversary. We feel terrible about ruining it.

• As the sun came up through the floor-to-ceiling windows we got the last of our stuff out of the condo. It was sad. That place was the last remainder of my old professional life, ten years of slogging crap hours for little pay doing what I enjoyed and hoping it would eventually pay off. All those weekends not going out with my friends, of living with my parents so I could save to buy a place of my own. And it's all vapor, now. I won't even go into the heartbreaking amount of money I lost beyond the fact that it sold for way less than what I paid five years ago, not to mention all the upgrades and the fat chunk of change I had originally saved to put down. Funny, when people in the building asked us why we were moving, somehow "we just can't afford it anymore" didn't seem to be an acceptable answer.

• Moving into the new place was challenging, what with the rain, the faulty security door key (other residents kept kicking out the rock we'd put in the door, which I actually think is a good thing), and the fact that it was Jon and I by ourselves. But it went surprisingly well.

We are so very thankful to my parents, my brother (who spent a good chunk of his visit helping load/unload stuff) and MFM and A. Without them, we would likely STILL be dragging ourselves and our things up and down elevators. And that's only a slight exaggeration.

Everything is still in boxes. I can't keep my autopilot from turning into my parents' driveway. It'll be difficult to go downtown and remember that we no longer live there. This is going to be a big adjustment. But we're looking forward to the future. And we're ready for what comes next.



*Mala was our realtor for only 90 of those 765 days.

the results are in

Remember

when

we

entered

that

Crate&Barrel

Ultimate

Wedding

Contest?



No, unfortunately we did not win.

BUT WE WERE SO VERY CLOSE!

We placed 70th* out of NINE THOUSAND!!!!

That's in the 99th percentile, people.

The president would so totally have given us an award if how much people loved us counted for fitness.

Thank you all again very much for voting for us. We love you.



*We had to have placed 50th or better to have been considered.

check back on July 12

Last Sunday, Jon and I went out to eat with cc at Royal Thai, where she and I especially enjoy the sticky rice with mango. After a great meal (Hooray, Jon has decided to un-blacklist this cuisine), the server brought some fortune cookies back with our check.

In this photo, you'll find the fortune I received (bottom) and his (top). I believe cc got something standard like "You are a beautiful person" or whatnot.


I know these are mass-produced, but for some reason the fact that they're not exactly the same makes it seem more spooky. I try not to be as superstitious as my peeps from the Motherland, but I can't help but wonder what we have in store for us on July 12.

I hope it's REALLY GOOD.

jon and cadiz in the department store

"Hey Mr. 20/20, tell me what that sign says way down there. Dresses have got to be around here somewhere."

"Men, Boys, Girls, Home, Women's Sizes."

"Women's sizes? What the heck does that mean?"

"You know, Women's Sizes. That's where all the men go to buy their women. They have them in all sizes."

"Is that right? So where did you get your woman then?"

"Internet."

"Oh yeah?"

"Definitely. Everyone knows all the best deals are online."

we may not have money, but we are rich

When I was a kid, I took a field trip to a prestigious, gorgeous, foreboding building where really smart people did impressive stuff. I turned to a friend and said, "I'm going to work here someday." And I actually made that happen. At the end of my very last shift there, I emptied my drawer, packed up my nameplate, put on my pink coat and turned to leave the enormous open room in which everyone rolls up their sleeves and gets the job done every night. And these people I respect, a lot of whom I hadn't really had the chance to speak to, began to applaud. All the way until I made it out the door.

I can't express that feeling. I had seen them do that for people before, but only ones who I thought had been there for a long time. As a two-year contract person whose time was up, I never dreamed that I deserved such a send-off. It was an unexpected and touching moment that I will never forget.

Last week, nearly five years to the day Jon* and I found each other in the comments of Jazz's blog, I had another of those moments. After 31 straight days of being two impossibly pointy thorns in the side of everybody within reach/phone/Internet, begging for votes to help us into the top 50 in Crate&Barrel/Daily Candy's Ultimate Wedding Contest, we were humbled by the results.

Unfortunately, we didn't crack that dang Top 50. But I am not sad in the least. After the fraudulent votes (I guess we had three) were thrown out, we placed 70th with a total of 764 votes. AND THAT IS DAMN IMPRESSIVE, FOLKS, considering there were what I believe to be thousands of other entries to choose from. Scrolling through them all, I am so amazed at how far we got. Especially because we were up against competition with touching stories of cancer, service to city and country, sexual discrimination and paralysis. Sure, we have our share of troubles, but in the face of that stuff it's a wonder we had a chance at all. But we did have a chance! We even hovered between 60th and 70th place. And that is no small feat.


And we never could have done it without you.


So to every single one of you who:

a) took time out of your busy day to follow the links and vote for us
b) re-posted us on facebook or twitter or here or here or here or here or here or here**
c) put a note in your church bulletin
d) got us a shoutout on a sports radio talkshow in Mobile, AL (thanks, bro)
e) nagged your significant other/friends/parents/neighbors
f) tried to incentivize voting to your students/others under your command
g) received harassing faxes/phonecalls/letters/emails/lectures from my mother
h) voted from (cough)made(cough) more than one email address
i) translated our story into other languages for your family in other countries to vote
j) had all your coworkers vote even though they don't know us
k) badgered celebrities to try and sponsor us to win
l) did stuff to garner votes for us that we didn't even HEAR ABOUT

there are no words to adequately capture how much we appreciate your efforts. This was an unexpected and touching experience, and we will never forget it.


Jon and I are going back to the original 2013 wedding date, and hope to save enough to have a wedding worthy of how much love and support we have around us. But there are plenty of wedding contests still out there (are you reading this Good Morning America?).

Don't worry, we know we've already played our Vote For Us Card...for now.

We love each and every single one of you. Thank you so much again for showing us how loved we are.





*Yes, I'm retiring the "H" now that the cat's out of the bag and scratching up the furniture.
**We'd hate to have forgotten anyone. Please let us know if we did!

T-minus 3 days, 11 hours

Now that H and I, as well as our close friends, family and colleagues have annoyed the everloving socks off of everyone within ten miles with our pleas for votes, we have moved on to ABJECT BEGGING.

PLEASE VOTE! KARMA WILL BE GOOD TO YOU!

http://ultimateweddingcontest.com/entries/36688


Here are the very, very, very boiled-down facts:

H and I met in the comments of Jazz...in Strange Places, FIVE YEARS AGO. Before, as someone recently put it: "blogging became SO 2007."

None of us knew each other but after he and I got to doing so, we dated longdistance for 2.5 years. Then he moved to Chicago.

A whole lot of economy-related crap went down in terms of 4 layoffs in 5 years, underemployment and not being able to sell my house. H and I are thankful to have paychecks, but still working on getting healthcare for him. We realize we are not the only ones struggling with these problems.

We'd love to get married soon. But can't afford it until probably 2013.

So we entered this contest. We don't have to get the most votes, just the 50th-most votes.

And we actually have a shot! Last night we were closer than we've ever been, and don't need too many more to get in.

It's one vote per email address; you don't have to fill out any personal information beyond that.

No one has received spam.

Yes, we really did walk around downtown Chicago yesterday trying to get votes. (The idea of seeing someone throw your picture on the sidewalk is HUMBLING. I feel for those going-out-of-business-solicitors who get walked past every day).

If it's not obvious, we would be thrilled to make it into the top 50. In fact, I think it'd feel like victory, especially because the competition has become so fierce. AND WE LEGITIMATELY HAVE A CHANCE!

Contest ends Wednesday, March 31. Every single vote makes a difference (currently we're tied with another couple) and is GREATLY APPRECIATED!

PLEASE TAKE TWO MINUTES TO VOTE WITH ALL YOUR EMAIL ADDRESSES!

all we need now is a beret for H

Mythbusters: wedding contest edition

Let me tell you, folks, there are ALL KINDS of awesome experiments H and I conducted on video--a la Jamie and Adam from the hit television show--regarding fallacies about this wedding contest we've been crowing about for the entire month. Unfortunately, I am currently trapped in the land of dialup for employment reasons and unable to upload any, so you all will have to use your fine-tuned imaginations to picture them.


MYTH 1: You can only vote once. Busted.

I, myself, have four email addresses:

• The original yahoo address from college through which I still get newsletters from professional organizations and school affiliations.
• A gmail address I use for the bulk of messaging with people I know in real-life.
• A gmail address associated with this blog: cadiztwelve[at]gmail[dot]com
• Another yahoo devoted to sign-ups at stores and for sale emails, etc.

And as much as my coworkers swear I secretly voted for the couple who currently has the most votes because I was touched by their story (along with the rest of America), I voted for H with every single one. Seriously, even if you didn't want to vote for yourself, wouldn't you be compelled to vote for the person you want to spend the rest of your life with?



MYTH 2: The current leaders have a gajillion votes! Karen and Jon will never win! Unconfirmed.

This contest is set up as more than just a popularity contest. Yes, there are people with gajillions of votes, but being #1 only secures a gift certificate to C&B. All Top-50 candidates will be considered for the big prize. So we just have to get in that top 50 and hope that the judges think our story and our personalities are worthy of winning.


MYTH 3: Only people in the United States can vote. Busted

My cousin in Australia was pretty much the first one to vote for us. (Thanks, D!) It's the World-Wide Web! Tell your family on other continents!



MYTH 4: Voting for us will lead to some sort of spam in your inbox. Busted.

Not one of the 570 (so far) voters has mentioned any extraneous spam in their inboxes as a result of going to the Web site and entering their email addresses. Crate & Barrel requires every couple to register for 50 line items (meaning a set of glasses counts as one)/$2,000 worth of stuff. If you take a minute to look at how many couples have entered, you know C&B is getting great business there. Plus, I'm pretty sure if you are on some kind of mailing list, companies are required to offer an "unsubscribe" link so you can put a stop to them immediately.



MYTH 5: They are using your votes as market research. Busted.

It became clear that even some people who were supporting us by telling others hadn't voted themselves because they were wary of becoming statistics. It's pretty hard to market-research people based solely on email address (You don't have to give ANY PERSONAL INFO besides email address).



MYTH 6: You have plenty of time to still vote. Busted.

What exactly does "plenty" mean, anyway? THERE IS ONLY ONE WEEK LEFT. We have narrowed the gap between us and the 50th-place couple more than we imagined and we really have a shot at this! But I'm sure everyone else is making last-minute pleas to people, too, so we have to come back with more votes. So if you haven't already, please vote from all your email addresses! www.ultimateweddingcontest.com/entries/36688



Every single vote is greatly appreciated! WE HAVE A GENUINE SHOT AT THIS!

sometimes you just gotta ask

"You do know i'm talking to you from a brand-new iPhone, right? That I got fixed FOR FREE."

"You ARE?!?"

"Well I was WAITING for you to ask, and you weren't DOING IT!"

"Well, I was WAITING for you to tell me why you weren't available for several HOURS and YOU weren't doing IT!"

"OKAY THEN!"

"ALRIGHT! SO WHY DON'T YOU TELL ME HOW YOU MANAGED TO SWING THAT THEN!"

one of the best things about falling in love with another blogger is the joy of watching the rest of them figure it out

One thing I'll never say about people who read this blog is that they don't pay attention.

On February 14, 2006 I was on vacation in Simi Valley, CA, visiting H for the second time and celebrating Valentine's Day with the grand sum of my days off for the entire year: 4.

It was exciting, having this cross-country love affair with another blogger while trying to pretend in our posts that we were just friends who had never met. And it would have made for a truly awesome reveal. If I hadn't slipped up.

Apparently over in New York, Omar was having some sort of tooth problem. And being on vacation wasn't going to stop me from commenting about it. So I hopped onto H's computer, clicked on Omar and left what was probably a ridiculous and certainly an all-in-lowercase comment that made use of the word "toof." I didn't think twice and hit Post.

It wasn't until I got an email from Omar with the subject "CSI:Los Angeles" that I realized what went wrong. Because it was H's computer, all of HIS name/address information was saved on frequent sites. So I had made that very-Cadiz comment signed in as "Onj."

Here's what it said:

Let me preface this by saying that I don't mean to seem stalker-ish or nosey.

I check StatCounter roughly 150 times per day. I noticed a handful of hits from the dslextreme.com host. I assumed they were from Jon, as I think that's his service provider.

Then I checked my email, and saw your comments... from the same dslextreme.com host... in California?

THEN I double checked the last comment from Onj, on Feb 11th, about wanting to hear about the proposal... It seemed odd that Jon wanted to hear about the proposal. And using the word "toof"? AND the comment was all in lower case letters?

AND you haven't been posting/commenting much recently?

My CSI training tells me that either you're a hacker and you're spoofing Jon's IP address OR you're at Jon's computer.

This is totally none of my business. Please forgive my nosey-ness.

and then a follow up:

Or that Jon stole your identity. I left out that possibility.

my reply:

i know you're not stalker-ish. or nosey. and you're my boy. so of course i knew you'd figure it out. especially because i know you're addicted to your statcounter.

he TOTALLY stole my identity!

:)

nah, i'm here. at my boyfriend's computer. and i forgot to check the identity with which i was posting before i hit the button. oops. i knew that toof thing was going to be obvious, but i didn't realize people picked up that i never capitalize anything. omg, you think anyone else noticed?

Omar:

You absolutely could have continued with that "he stole my identity" story, and I would have believed it :)

Well that's fantastic news! I've never even MET another blogger, and you guys are dating?!? From halfway across the country?! I won't get all girly and ask details. Just know that I'm thrilled for both of you.

We've since met Omar (along with his gorgeous family) in person, and I can attest that they are every bit as cool as I had suspected all these years. Several other readers happened to piece together that H=Jon, including Becky, who I believe figured it out while lying awake at night trying to figure out how it all fit together.


btw, PLEASE VOTE FOR US! couples closest to the top 50 are making a serious push to get in and we STILL HAVE A SHOT! Here are some tips:

1) You can vote from more than one email address. BE SURE TO HIT the "logout" button in the top left corner. It's tiny.

2) You can post to your twitter, facebook and myspace from the actual www.ultimateweddingcontest.com page, right underneath our photo.

3) You can email every single person you know with the link...?

milestone: year 5

Holy cow, it's been FIVE YEARS since I started this blog in an effort not to go insane by myself in the middle of the night. WHO COULD HAVE PREDICTED ALL THAT WOULD HAPPEN?!?

First off, the folks I've met (both in-person and not) because of this thing are some of the kindest, most entertaining people on the planet. How unfathomable would it have been to hear that I'd be marrying one of them! Especially because not a lot of people knew what a blog was in 2005--it took a great deal of lengthy explaining to get my parents to understand that we met by BUMPING INTO EACH OTHER at Jazz in Strange Places, not by going out and looking (of course, there's absolutely nothing wrong with that). Trust me, if I were making requests I would have listed "Illinois resident" as a criterion. And then I would have completely missed out on H.

Second, in 2005 I was working at the dungeon, then the Canadian company, then the startup, then freelancing. And now I'm back to the employer whose summer checks kept me in Pokey Sticks, textbooks, cover fees and the occasional cup of coffee throughout college. As much as I mourn the fact that I don't get to use the skills I honed for a decade every single minute of the day anymore, it sure feels good to have benefits.

Third, relatively recently I loosened my grip on secrecy and put my photo up on the blog as well as sharing the address with, well, PRETTY MUCH EVERYONE I KNOW. That's progress, y'all. Especially for a control freak like myself.

But it just wouldn't be a blog anniversary without a recap. So indulge me. Here's what you missed:

Ten years can change a lot of the details, but the sentiment is the same. There's no such thing as a vacation from your life--and perhaps the best way to figure out where you're going is to take a good look at where you have been.

When I ripped open the wrapping paper that morning, I noticed that Brigitta Sylvia looked slightly different than the *real* Cabbage Patch Kids my friends had. But my mom--clever as always--put on the spin: My doll was WAY cooler than everyone else's because she came all the way from GERMANY, just for me.

5. If you want to be sure I will get absolutely nothing accomplished, leave me home alone where there are one or more of the following: a television, a couch, a bed and/or the Internet.

The light display was very cool. And seven years ago--when I could dance all night in four-inch heels and run around without a coat when it was below freezing--it would have been pretty freaking awesome.

But is it all for nothing? Am I going to be the annoying person whose children roll their eyes whenever she tries to get them interested in some music or a movie? Does it make a difference that I can cook all this stuff if nobody wants to eat it?

Unemployment means I can come home, drive her to appointments, pick up medicines--and most importantly--smack her around.

But I needed that venting--nothing gets you primed for productivity like the sleeve-rolling-up exercise of describing how much the impending job makes you want to throw yourself off a balcony. And apparently people enjoyed reading them. When I graduated, several people told me how much they'd miss the frenetic warnings against waiting until the night before the exam to start the assigned readings or stories of how a computer-lab stranger can really do you a solid by banging on the table when he noticed you drooling on your psychology book.

I have been logging in some serious hours in front of the television--escaping into the drama of fictional people really takes the edge off of my real-life issues.

Suddenly some Indian-sounding lady (I normally wouldn't categorize, but I happen to be intimately familiar with how they sound and have recently been talking with dozens of call-center people) gets on the line, says "You're welcome" as if she were in the middle of talking to someone else, and HANGS UP ON ME.

I got my brother on the phone to give her a good scolding and she sat back down. Then I went to finish chopping the spinach and hadn't been in the kitchen two minutes before she was out in the driveway dragging in the empty garbage cans from the curb.

For me, the best way to hone a skill is by playing for keeps. And this project slowed me down and steadied my hand.

Apparently the legacy of the "professional" wrestling my brother used to watch--Jake "the snake" Roberts, "Macho Man" Randy Savage, "Rowdy" Roddy Piper, Hulk Hogan and Ted "the million-dollar man" DiBiasi--continues through their children.

When I asked the Wonder Twin who completed that last challenge, I realized I never had a chance; she had been playing some sort of Facebook flag application game and locked it down in a matter of seconds. Who says Facebook is just a time waster?

h) So many people are hassling us to get married, even though we barely have enough cash to purchase the Betty Crocker for a cupcake tower.

And for an extra-curricular activity to my full-time job of being on hold with them, I'm gathering a posse to kick Citibank's collective ass.

But H's youth spent building bike-riding dirt ramps came in mighty handy. Our method was to fill the wheelbarrow, push it into the center of the yard, take a running start up a ramp in the dirt and dump it without getting flipped over or dragged down.

And there was even a 12 Angry Men moment during which I convinced half the table that a particular idea would be a flop because it had even less sincerity than Rock of Love.

A long time ago I had visited the dungeon's illustrious tower on a school field trip and turned to a friend and said, "I'm going to work here someday." And I did. Sure, I sort of referred to it as a torture chamber (out of love, of course), however it really was quite an experience and I learned so much. So I'll have no regrets.

3) I stopped counting the number of pairs of surgical gloves (for my own protection whenever I dealt with a patient) I put on and took off today somewhere around 38. That was before lunch.

The person um-hmmmed. I started to elaborate, but she cut me off with a comment about Heidi Pratt's boob job.

I can't imagine you training anyone on anything other than obscure football regulations and video-game cheats (Up, Down, Up, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, A, B, A, B, Select, Start).

"Bloodwork does not lie. Unless someone stuck an IV full of sugar into your arm while you were sleeping..."

I must admit, we haven't yet run out of things to say. And I hope we never do, because today he asked me to spend the rest of my life talking to him, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

My brother is having panic attacks. For his entire life he has always been the one in jeopardy, the one people toss and turn worrying about. He has absolutely no coping skills to deal with feeling so powerless, terrified and being too far away for a hug. All I can offer him in the way of comfort is a welcome sign to our side of the fence.

He didn't, in fact, have any cameras on me (which is a shame, because I sort of hammed it up for an audience of nobody).

This futility-of-love-against-life-threatening-illness seems to be a running theme in my life.

7) Hospital employees GET THE FLU, TOO. And double the patients with half the staff makes for a little longer wait. Bring a crossword puzzle and be a little considerate.

"Cadiz, when you become a parent, you'll be ecstatic if your kid will flush the toilet."

I think it's going pretty well so far. Except for that one patient whose husband was, um, difficult, and tried to chase me back into my office, rip out all my hair and feed it to me.

"When they ask you about a date, just tell them we've narrowed it down to one of 12 months."

I know I shouldn't be bitching. Two months ago, I didn't have steady work or health benefits. I just need a hot bath and a nap.

If only I had gotten the "morning-person" gene (I'm the only one of us who has a problem waking up); getting this engine going in the a.m. wouldn't always be such a terrible experience.

b had gone in, become a "fan" of Jeff Hardy and written "I LOVE YOU JEFF HARDY!" on the wrestler's Facebook page. Except to Jeff Hardy and the rest of the Facebook community, it looks like that message was posted by a 30-something philosophy professor.

People who have to give up that much of their take-home pay to have a roof over their heads can't get a refinance, but if it only takes up 28% of your income, you can get a lower rate pretty easily. I mean, I get it, but I DON'T GET IT.

For goodness' sake, on phone directories where numbers are listed by department, instead of the name of her area it just says her name.

Cc and I were giddy from the fanciness (and champagne).

By the way, I don't feel like doing Thanksgiving this year; your brother isn't even coming home. So we're coming to the condo. Okay?

I stopped watching the show last season after the plotline became too ridiculous to bear, but a girl's got to put aside her principles when it comes to a nice-fitting pair of pants.

It must have been tricky to keep sight of something as silly as an extravagant birthday party for your six-year-old when your 2-year-old is getting ready to have open-heart surgery.

"Whoa, greedy, what if all you get for Christmas this year are hugs?"

With that, I snapped right back into consciousness. Not my mom! Please don't call my mom!

5) My new Realtor took a look at the activity in our building for the time my place was on the market and gently explained that it had been listed far too high for far too long and was actually being used as a bargaining point for other units to be sold at a better price.

We don't even know 5,000 people, so we're counting on your votes and we're hoping you'll ask other people to vote for us too.

http://ultimateweddingcontest.com/entries/36688

Thanks for reading!

Also, PLEASE TAKE TWO MINUTES TO VOTE! We are just 258 votes out of the t0p 50 and cannot expect the competition to stop where they are. We can do this with YOUR help!