Best eva on the humble abode

A look back on the most popular posts about my home from the past few years:

Forever holding down the #1 spot: the geriatric klepto next door.

#2: the surprisingly, insanely popular tablecloth-as-curtains post.

#3: the much slaved over teal front door.

#4: the reason I love my bathroom after parties.

#5: my whole-house color palette that's been pinned a gazillion times.

#6: my barnwood sign that I'm convinced will fall and kill me in my sleep

#7: the one where everything is completely and utterly torn up.

I'm starting to think it's time for a before/after post, showing the rooms when I first moved in versus now. Hey, I worked hard, I deserve to brag!



Someone from my graduating class died last night. Overdosed.

He is the second one in the past few months. One of a handful from that class of 2005. Every single time I learn of one, it takes me back to that spring.


We had just gotten back from Puerto Plata, a spring break trip full of laughs and sun and fun. Like Spring Breaks are supposed to be. My mom answered the ringing phone that morning in no way expecting what she was about to be told. My cousin, Jay, was in the hospital on life support. My cousin who was just eight months older than me.

He had overdosed. I don't know what he mixed and it really doesn't matter now. The point is he overdosed and ultimately his parents, my aunt and uncle, had to make the decision a few days later to remove him from life support.

We were a family of seven cousins, now there are just six of us. We don't have the jokester anymore. Every holiday is missing that spunk he had. Every get together is full of a lot less laughs. Every picture is missing my 1987 counterpart.

It makes me so sad. It's not the tragic unexpected accident, like a car crash or a murder. The kind of accident you can be angry at someone else, have someone to blame. It's a tragic unexpected accident in a category all it's own.

I just think of the life I have ahead of me and it makes me so sad that they cut theirs short. That their family and friends and kids don't have all those years ahead to spend with them.

We miss you Jay. And to everyone else who has dealt with the same thing, my heart is with you today, and every other day.


Moonshine Jungle

Had a little family bonding time in the moonshine jungle last night!

My cousin got us suite passes to Bruno Mars, so us girls rushed out of work and headed downtown for dinner and drinks followed by a night of booty shaking!

He honestly put on one of the best shows I have seen in a while. I always forget how many songs he's had out. It was so much fun, and his band is AWESOME! They never stood still, and the audience never sat down.

Not to mention Bruno himself is cute as heck. I'll definitely be keeping an eye out for the next time he comes in town


Glug goes my gallbladder: missing in action

I haven't had bacon in a month now.

A month.

We have entire parties dedicated to bacon. This is a BIG deal guys.

Because apparently there's no real sense of urgency when it comes to your gallbladder. I've been hospital-hopping the past few weeks having various tests done and the conclusion was what was suspected to begin with (obviously, not the conclusion the ER suggested, but the one that my InstagramMDs suggested) - it's broke.

So I woke up at the crack of dawn on a sunny Indiana Friday and headed to the hospital with my mom, to have a HIDA scan done. They inject a tracer into your arm that pretty much acts as bile in your body,  and then they watch it at various intervals to see how your gallbladder (stores bile) handles it.

Except at the 20 min interval, the 40 min interval and the 60 min interval they just really couldn't see my gallbladder. He literally pointed out that he could not find it. And then another guy looked. And then the doctor looked. And then they had be chug a glass of water hoping that'd flush it along. But still only a liver and intestines and slight bout of heartburn were showing bile on the imaging.

So they asked if I had ever woken up in a tub of ice and maybe the absence of my gallbladder on the imaging was due to it being on the black-market in Taiwan somewhere.

And then they brought out the big guns and shot me up with some morphine. To which my gallbladder went all into Hulk mode and turned green (that's a lie, it turned red, but I'm trying to make this incredibly boring test more exciting) and went into hyperdrive.

So it's not COMPLETELY broke. It just needs a little opiate action to give it any motivation. Which is obviously frowned upon. Freakin druggie deadbeat, freeloadin off my body.

I meet with a surgeon in a few weeks. Yes, a few weeks. Like I said - no urgency. It's fine, I'll continue my bacon strike with a full-fledged pouty lip and sad puppy dog eyes.


Mixer & Mingle Fridays: Effen Caramel Apple

It's only been like a million years since I herded you little alkies into tongue-tantalizing oblivion.

Fear not, I'm back. And just in time for this freak cold-wave that's sweeping the midwest.

I present to you for the back & better than ever 
Mixer & Mingle Fridays: Effen Caramel Apples.

It should come as no surprise to anyone I'm still mixing liquor with my beer. Everyone is already on the Fireball + Redd's bandwagon, so let's mix it up a little, eh?

I suppose you could get all fancy and use a glass, but the redneckery that goes into this is half the magic. Let's go through it step-by-step.
1) crack open a Redd's Apple Ale.
2) drink it down to the bottom of the neck.
3) pour in Effen Caramel Apple vodka.
4) cork it with your thumb and SLOWLY tip to mix. (SLOWLY. Or you will end up with a whole'lotta head)

Party on Garth.



It's weird nowadays to not immediately be connected to someone. And not that hypothetical connection, but social media connection. How many times do you go out on the weekends, meet someone new, and within the hour have instagrammed photos with their twitter handle and snapchat name all in your phone?

I was flying home from Vegas on Southwest a few weeks back. I did what every single (or not so faithful person) does, hopped down in an empty row, holding out hope that the next attractive person who steps in the cabin chooses seat 14b.

And he did. And after he slid his bag under the seat he rubbed his temples and sighed the loudest sigh I've ever heard for a Sunday evening flight. I tossed my phone into my lap and decided to pry. 1591 miles is a long trip, might as well strike up conversation. When I asked him about his rough weekend, the adorable southern twang that replied was the last thing I expected.

Three hours later I literally knew more about him than any first, second and third date I had ever been on. He actually works in my industry, for my competitor a few states away. I learned about his family, his friends, the bachelor party they had, his dog, how he spends his holidays, his trips to Costa Rica, his absence of a girlfriend, his hatred for Texas. Literally.... everything.

And when we touched down in Indy and deplaned, he waited for me at the end of the gate and the conversation kept flowing all the way through the terminal and down to baggage claim.  When I headed toward carousel 3, he smirked and thanked me for entertaining him the flight back. And like that we parted ways with a "have a good one!"

And it was the weirdest thing. Not that I necessarily wanted to keep in touch, but I guess it was just caught me off guard that he didn't even try? (yes, I realize how conceited that sounds, but I'm just being honest).

Looking back though, I like it. It makes me smile. He was just this blip that popped up on my radar, made me laugh for a few hours, and then faded off into the distance.



Fifty hours of Vegas

Middle of July I snuck off to see my best friend in Vegas for a not-long-at-all weekend.

No, literally.

I spent a mere 50 hours total in Vegas.

I can sum up fifty hours in three words: eat. drink. gamble.



[rearview mirror] second week of august.

One of the best parts of having a blog is easily looking back on what you were doing this same time in years past.

Apparently August likes to bring a lot of drama with it. Also, I'm apparently never single in August

Three years ago I put an offer in on a house. That was a first. (Hint: I didn't get that house, and was heartbroken. It all worked out perfectly in the end though)

Two years ago I was positive I was exactly where I was supposed to be (Hint: two weeks later I was freshly heartbroken, and a week after that brought the plot twist of a lifetime.  It all worked out perfectly in the end though)

Last year I was chasing the racer, experiencing what I thought would become the new norm. (Hint: that ended less than a year later. Hey - it will probably all work out perfectly in the end though. Of course!)



Behind the wall.

Despite my rendezvouses with the porcelain bowl lately, life's been far from doom & gloom.

I checked another gem off my hypothetical nonexistent bucket list and watched a NASCAR race from the pits.

Friend of a friend (the best kind of stories always start this way, no?) owns a team and invited us along for a weekend of up close and personal racing fun. Well, twist my arm.

Needless to say, as I was sitting in the ER Saturday afternoon, a tiny (huge) part of me was hoping they would release me so I could still go to the race Sunday.

The ER doc heard my wishes and Sunday morning I walked through these pearly gates. It was a pretty cool experience all around. I've been in the garages and pits, but always returned to the grandstands for the actual race.

Never have I gotten to listen to the national anthem or watch the flyover while standing on the track.

Never have I been able to watch the green flag drop while in the pit lane wall.

Never have I witnessed a pit stop from 6 feet away while leaning up against a stack of tires. I've also never had that much fun at the Brickyard. Anyone who has been knows it's a pretty boring race, so seeing it from a different point of view in the pits spiced it up a bit.

I'd also like to think our driver had the best tuxedo racing suit I've ever seen, hands down!



august: currently

watching Gossip Girl. and Orange is the New Black. But mostly just my eyelids (what? TV puts me to sleep)
drinking Rooibee Red Vanilla Chai tea nonstop. No seriously. I keep my fridge stocked. 
wearing chucks and keds. lots of chucks and keds. 
listening to a lot of Tom Petty. I was born a few decades too late.
eating far too much sea salt caramel gelato.
enjoying being on the go nonstop. I really do hate sitting around. 
thrilled that the flowers I planted in mid-May are still alive and thriving.
cleaning my closet out. again.
excited about going to the state fair to pig out. If the gallB lets me, that is. 
reading about all the preservatives and chemicals that go into food nowadays. Scary.
laughing at this youtube clip. I crylaugh. Every time.
feeling like pretty-fying my house again. For the first time since pre-lung pop.
believing putting good juju into the world.
loving on Russell lately. He's mellowed out so much lately. 

[elise does these posts monthly, they say imitation is the highest form of flattery - right?!] 



Is that a serious question?

This morning my coworker was asking about my doctors appointment last week, and we started joking about my string of weird ailments this year. He then looked at me and goes "do you just wanna like curl up in bed and cry?" and I just laughed, but the look on his face signaled that he wasn't joking.

And I couldn't muster up any response other than "is that a serious question?"

My three year old niece just spent the past nine months undergoing chemotherapy and radiation for her second battle with cancer.

Do I want to curl up in bed and cry because my lung popped and I have a few stomach pains? No way. No freaking way.

Not once have I seen Olivia cry during any of her treatments. My brother and sister-in-law have been watching helplessly as their baby gets pumped full of drugs that are killing healthy cells inside of her, all in hopes of them "working" and fighting these cancer cells. They have held it together like I could only ever dream of.

The whole time I was dealing with my lung stuff numerous people commented on "how well I was handling this" and how they couldn't believe that I was cracking jokes and making light of the situation.

It was a lung people. It was fixable. Heck, I've got two. Sure I spent a couple weeks in the hospital and racked up a few hefty bills. Big deal. Never was I given a prognosis that "things don't look good" like Olivia was. Still to this day it baffles me.

All things in perspective people. Yea, I've got my own problems to deal with, but no they don't seem that bad at all in my eyes.



What. the. hail.

Apparently #popgoesmylung wasn't enough fun for one year. Now I bring you #gluggoesmygallbladder

I don't remember who coined that term this past week, and I really don't even know yet if it is my gallbladder... but if this was one of those reality shows where you guys got to vote for what happened to me next, C) Gallbladder Removal would definitely have won by unanimous vote. 

I'm either keeled over in pain, or am feeling pretty much fine. Oh but when it's bad, it's BAD. I spent the better part of this past Saturday puking my guts out yet again. 

I saw my doctor Friday afternoon, she was ticked about what little they did in the ER. But really all she did was push around on my tummy, tell me to stop taking the prescriptions the ER gave me, and send me home. I go tomorrow morning for an ultrasound of my abdomen (Should I post the ultrasound photos on IG like every one of you who's knocked up?)