Costa Rica

I recently read a piece about how much people hate hearing about other's vacations.  It suggests doing so pushes people away.  So.  Friends.  Get ready.  I'm about to talk about our vacation.  (dum, dum, dum) Read with caution.

Boat ride from the village of Tortuguero back to our lodge.

It's been nearly three weeks since Spencer and I returned from Costa Rica. It was a great trip, largely because Spencer and I actually got to spend time together for days on end (a rarity due to my early morning hours.) It also didn't hurt that we read a ton of horror stories about being mugged or having your bags stolen, and none of it actually happened to us, making for a pleasant surprise. 

View from our room at Hotel Fleur de Lys in San Jose.

Up, down, and around the corner.  Our day of driving east.

Our day in Limon, celebrating Carnival.

Our trip was broken down into a few stops. We flew into San Jose, spent an afternoon exploring the downtown (even stopped into a casino for kicks), then the next day took a rental car east toward the Caribbean, which in itself was an adventure. For hours on end we drove along windy roads, up and down, over and over. At times the GPS would warn of an upcoming 'windy road' which made us giggle since we hadn't had a straight path since we left San Jose. So our second day was spent driving, with one stop for a short hike along Irazu Volcano, where we fed little scavenging raccoon-like creatures called coatimundi (a big highlight for me).

For several days we stayed just south of the port city of Limon, in a little hotel along the ocean.  We spent a day waiting around for, and eventually witnessing, the Carnival parade in Limon; another day hiking and snorkeling in Cahuita National Park.

On Day 4 we ditched the rental car, joined up with a vacation-tour group and were driven north to a sandy dock where we were picked up by boat, and taken into Tortuguero National Park. The remainder of our trip (aside from a ziplining excursion on the ride back to San Jose) was pretty much there.

We spent our nights at Tortuga Lodge, in a room surrounded by screened windows, eating ridiculous amounts of food offered during our meals there. In the morning we woke up to the sound of Howler monkeys in the distance. During the day we hiked behind the lodge, we toured the rivers that weave through the park on boat, we kayaked, we swam in Tortuga's pool, we spotted sloths in trees, took a boat across the way to the ocean to search for baby turtles, and once we took a break to nap in hammocks. On one night we also ventured out into the darkness, along with a tour guide and other guests, to watch a sea turtle crawl out of the ocean, dig a hole, and lay her eggs in the sand.

The food.  Oh, the food.  Those little blocks of fried cheese goodness were Spencer's favorite.

Tortuguero National Park and the beautiful Tortuga Lodge where we stayed.  Also, notice all those waving people in the top left.   That is lodge staff which comes out to wave as your arrive and then lines up to see you off as you head out.  It made us giggle but we loved it.

Ziplining through the rainforest canopy in Braulio National Park.

We took about 1400 pictures on the trip.  Many of monkeys, dogs, and lizards. 

DSLR heaven.  Had so much fun taking photos like this on the trip.

Day 7 was spent driving, actually getting a ride with the tour agency, back to San Jose and ziplining. Day 8 we were home.

I have so much to tell that I'm having trouble recapping this trip, which I'm largely doing for personal reasons.  I just don't want to forget what a great time we had. 

• I want to remember the nights Spencer and I spent playing Gin Rummy and drinking pre-mixed cans of Rum and Cola.
• The hours we trying to figure out when Carnival started and then spent sitting on a curb in Limon, waiting for the parade to begin.  It started two hours later then schedule.
• The excitement we had every time we spotted a new animal or turned a corner to a different view on our drive...and how Spencer constantly reacted with, 'Take a picture!'
• How in awe we were when we first arrived at Tortuga Lodge and heard about what was in store for the next few days and all the amenities available to us.
• There were the cold towels the staff at Tortuga gave us before every meal so we could cool off.  The 'frosty drinks' we looked forward to when we returned from an excursion with the lodge.  They would meet you on the dock ready to give them to you!
• Oh yes, there was the morning at Tortuga we woke up with a bat in our room and Spencer insisted we get rabies shots. (We didn't)
• How much we laughed as we kayaked, and at times raced, along the river, through Tortuguero Park.
• And all the dogs!  Every town we visited, along every road, we saw them, and we usually took a photo.  We were especially thrilled when we visited the village of Tortuguero, nestled within the park.  It's an isolated town so all the dogs there are related.  We discovered a plethora of small ones which all looked the same, trotting around and welcoming guests.

It was just a really. great. vacation.  It reminded me how much I love exploring, that I need to find time and money for travel more often.

Wedding Planning Begins

Sitting on the couch right now thinking
a) I wish HuluPlus would work so I can continue watching American Horror Story
b) I need to research affordable caterers in the Champaign area and
c) shit, so much has happened in my life lately and I haven't record any of it in my blog.

So first things first, all that 'stuff' that's happened.

The big one:  Spencer and I are engaged!

He popped the question on October 12, his birthday.  Of course the question then, how did he do it?

Future husband

In short, I had gone to bed on the 12th around 6pm.  Early to bed, since I'm early to rise for work.  A bit later Spencer woke me up, wearing a suit, boxed ring in hand.  He said some amazing lovey things and asked me to marry him.  And then followed up the next day with flowers, and the day after that, a hand-written poem.

So it wasn't the over-the-top proposal I had secretly been hoping for. But, and a big but here, Spencer is amazing.  He tells me everyday how much he loves me.  He truly makes me feel loved.  Up until my work schedule changed in August, I could rely on the sound of him grinding coffee beans downstairs at 10pm as I got up for my overnight shift.  The weekend he proposed, he dedicated his entire Saturday to supporting me: cleaning disgusting kitten cages at a Mega Pet Adoption event I wanted to help with; and then standing by, taking photos, and keeping me company as I emceed an event.  And while it's just minor, I still smile at how be brought me breakfast as I reported in a snow-storm, which led to him being off work, last winter.  He is always there for me.

So.  He didn't do amazing with the proposal, but I'm over it.  I can. not. wait for the rest of our lives together.  Also a cute side note: apparently Spencer's dad also proposed to his mother, yes, in bed.  So we have that going for us.

13.1 Miles

I did it.  We did it.  Spencer and I attempting our first half marathon over the weekend.  We completed it, made it past the finish line, but barely.

Running 13.1 miles had been a goal of mine for some time.  I signed up for the Chicago Half Marathon in June as I had been running a lot and felt confident I would be ready.  Things happen, life gets in the way.  August came, my work scheduled changed, and long story short, I didn't run the entire month leading up to the half marathon on Sunday.  Not once.  But when you pay $90 to take part in a race, heck, not being ready isn't an excuse to skip out.

Taking the Blue Line at 5 am 

That said, there were plenty of reasons for us to skip this race.  Aside from not being ready, it was in Chicago meaning we had to set aside our whole weekend to run it.  We had to get up at 4 am just to take a train and then a cab to Jackson Park on the city's south side.   It was really inconvenient.  In the future, signing up for races that start a few blocks from my home (they exist).

So anyway, super inconvenient race.  We weren't prepared.  And it's why I'm proud that we both went head first into this, put a smile on our faces, and ran anyway.

The first 8 and a half miles were do-able.  I tuned out with music.  Spencer, in his pepperoni pizza shirt (Christmas gift from Allison), ran beside me.  But then I hit a wall.  My legs stopped working.  Cramped up.  I walked for a few, then ran, then walked, then ran, and that was the final five miles for us.  Looking forward to water stations, limping along, running when we could, being passed by runners of equal level who moments later we were running past as they took a break to walk.  There were a lot of us in the back, just trying to finish.  

It was hard.  I definitely wasn't ready, and as you can see by our final race times (below), I could have done far better.  The moments that made it worth it though:  

• Hitting that 8 and a half mile mark, the farthest I have ever run at once.  
• Seeing the smile on Spencer's face as runners and spectators cheered him on, yelling "Pizza!!"
• And the feeling of just pure love I had for Spencer as, even though he was able to keep running, he slowed down with me every time and stayed by my side. 

So still glad we did it.  I want to do another one.  Because seriously, look at my time (which is basically our time) we can only go up from here:)

 

Laser Beams

In June my eyes decided to stop welcoming contacts.  After wearing them daily for 15 years it was as though my body decided it had had enough.  I tried prescription meds,  stopped wearing them regularly, but every time I put them in, redness and pain ensued: a frustration for a TV reporter forced for the first time in my career to regularly wear glasses on air.   So that coupled with the fact that optometrists have told me for years, 'Your eyes aren't getting enough oxygen, veins are growing further and further over your eyes, this will eventually be an issue" led me to the decision to go underneath the laser and have PRK eye surgery about 12 days ago now.

For the last two months, I researched.  My first doctor visit was a bummer.  The laser center telling me I wasn't a candidate.  Would never be one.  Not for Lasik or the less invasive, PRK because my corneas are 'abnormally thin.'   Second doctor said yes to Lasik.  Third and fourth told me PRK, wiping away a thin layer of cornea rather than creating a flap of skin, was my only option.  And so based on their recommendations (2/4 doctors agree!) I opted for PRK.  

As far as pricing.  There was quite a range.  One clinic offered it at $2800 for both eyes.  But that didn't include enhancements or touchups if my eyes change down the road.  Another clinic quoted me at $4400, which included future surgeries if needed.  A third, LasikPlus, put me at $3500, partially because my insurance company had a partnership with them.  Future surgery included in that price, they have locations across the country I can go to.  It won my business.

Waiting for my ride to LasicPlus

The day of the surgery I took an Uber car to the doctor.  Like when I skydived ten years ago now, I tried not to think too much about what was about to happen.  The clinics are pretty cavalier about it because so many people come in and out of their offices.  In fact, if you go in for a consultation, they'll offer to do the surgery that week.   Its as though they prey on your excitement, want to convince you do to the surgery before you have second thoughts.

At most of the chain clinics, like LasikPlus, doctors actually travel to different locations throughout the week.  Louisville one day, Indianapolis the next.  It means on days doctors are doing laser surgery, lots of people are lined up to get it.   So when I went in, I was by no means alone.   The waiting run was full of people being run through the process: Watch this video.  Sign these papers.  Take this Valium.  Finally actually meet the ophthalmologist operating on you (I researched Dr. Greenberg ahead of time).  And then go directly under the laser.  It's a pretty fast-moving process.  The entire time you are witnessing other people under the laser as the operating room is surrounded by clear walls and they have a television screen facing the waiting room that shows an extreme close-up of the actual eye they are operating on at the time.

The video you're asked to watch right before the surgery.
Answering all my top questions to the tune of "I can see clearly now,"

Here we go.  Taking valium about 20 minutes before PRK.

The actual PRK procedure was painless.  They had numbed my eyes.  All I had to do was lie on my back and stare straight ahead as Dr. Greenberg, who one at a time had wedged open each eye with some device, basically doused my eyeballs with liquid, wiped at them, and then fired off the laser before placing a temporary clear contact lens over my eye. The actual laser part took seconds.  As warned, it was accompanied by the smell of burning skin.  Again, no pain.  That said, you can't help but think the entire time, 'Man you are really poking at my eye. This is definitely going to hurt later."

I was right.  Spencer was there to drive me home right after the procedure.  He hadn't driven me because the surgery fell right in the middle of his work-day and they tell you to set aside a couple hours for it.  By the time we got home, so about 30 minutes later, I was feeling the burn.  I went right to sleep.  And remained asleep, waking sporadically to eat and take meds, for the next three days.

In fact, the only time I left the home over the next five days was for my 24 hour check-up back at LasikPlus.  Spencer drove me as I sat in the passenger seat, wearing my clothes from the day before, sleep mask on, shielding me from any sunlight.  At the clinic all the folks who I saw the day before were awaiting their check-up.  Those who had received Lasik, rather than PRK, had driven themselves in.  Were seemingly fine.  I envied them so much as I sat wiping away the ongoing tears my eyes kept creating.

Swollen and squinting the day after PRK.

Awaiting my 24 check-up.  Miserable.

So the next few days:  Pain, Vicodin, endless eye drops, sleeping, sleeping, and sleeping.  Seriously, I slept day in and day out.  Spencer bought ice cream.  It gave me motivation to get up every now and then.  He pre-made some PB & J's for me so I could easily eat (necessary before taking Vicodin) while he was at work.  Egg sandwiches were another speciality I learned to expect from him each morning.

Spencer's pre-made PB&J for me.

I was miserable and it wasn't so much because my eyes hurt but because I was so extremely sensitive to light.  Any light.  Our home was dark for days. 

The animals loved my immobility./Eating in an eyemask./Day four.

Harriette modeling the eyemask you're asked to wear for several days following the procedure.

The morning of day five I had a turnaround.  I woke up in minor pain as usual but within a couple hours was actually able to walk around the house, turn the lights on, do some chores.  It was a big break-through.  Granted, my vision was still very blurry.  I couldn't watch TV, read, or sit at my computer, but the fact that I could actually prepare my own food and stay awake for longer than 10 minutes was a hug step.

Day 6 was even better.  Vision improved.  I went back to LasicPlus, had the recovery contacts over my eyes removed, was told my vision with both eyes was at 20/40 which is completely normal for several weeks after the surgery.  Also, I cleaned out the medicine cabinet.

So long, saline.  The glasses, contacts, cases, and solution I no longer need.

Day 7 had me back at work.  I couldn't wear eye makeup quite yet as they don't want you rubbing your eyes for a full week following the procedure.  So I looked a little bare as noted below, but no biggie.

Which brings me to today---12 days later and I'm still squinting a bit.  I'm told it will be this way for a few weeks as my eyes continue to heal.  I put eyedrops, some of which are prescription, in about a dozen times a day and will need to for a couple weeks still.  So a few minor inconveniences, but overall I am so incredibly happy.   On a daily basis, I find myself thinking I need to take my contacts out before I go to bed only to squeal that no, I'm seeing clearly without them.  It's such a huge change as I've been tied down by specs since second grade.  I realize reading glasses will be need in ten years time or so, but for now I celebrate.  I can finally see on my own!

A Phish Show 15 Years in the Making

Fifteen years ago, when I was 14 and my sister, Allison, was 18, both of us were in love with Phish.  Actually, correction: she was in love with Phish, I had one or two of their albums, but wasn't quite at her level.  Regardless, when she asked if I wanted to road trip with her six hours to Noblesville, Indiana, to see them play, the answer was yes.  I have this memory of not really caring if I went or not but of feeling honored that my big-sister had even asked me to join her.  

It was a last-minute invite (as in late the night before). Allison had just seen the band play in the Chicago-area and called home with news that the friend she traveling with was sick.  Essentially she wanted to go to another show, had no one to join her, and wanted to bring me a replacement.  And to quote my journal which I dug up just for this post, "Of course, I said yes!"                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            I remember the morning we were leaving the uneasy feeling my parents had about us going.  It was storming at the time, so early it was still dark outside and they worried the roads would be bad.  Nonetheless, we were allowed to go and we hit the road in the family's Chevy Cavalier, with the goal of catching Phish that night.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     To make a long story short, we never actually saw Phish.  We had headed to Deer Creek without tickets.  Allison made a sign that read something along the line of it being my first Phish show, that we needed tickets.  We stood near the venue, holding the sign, trying our luck, but had such a small amount of money on us we never would have been able to afford two, or even one, ticket.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               My big memories?  Despite what my journal says, "There were a lot of hot guys everywhere.  People were doing drugs, smoking, and drinking.  I bet Al and I were the only sober people."  They are actually all related to spending time with a big sister who had just hit the age where she started to enjoy my company, rather than despise it.  Allison lent me clothes to wear on our trip (she didn't want me to look like a teeny-bopper in a Sugar shirt), she inspected food we bought off street vendors (trying to protect me from scary drugs that could be hidden inside), made me promise I wouldn't tell mom if she did anything rebellious (at the time I was so innocent that I had no idea she was likely referring to smoking pot), and insisted that even if we could only afford one ticket to the show we needed to buy it, so I could go inside and experience Phish.

Allison trying to get us tickets.

My other memories involve my being a cranky 14-year-old with little tolerance for discomfort.  I was hungry, so sick of eating the Chex mix and plain bagels Allison brought.  During the show, as we sat outside listening, I was cold, tired, still hungry.  Really, I was so miserable at times.  Seriously, look at my face the morning after the show right before we headed back home:

Since that show I've seen Phish twice, in 2003 and 2004.  In both cases, I was with friends, not with my sister.  Which brings me to this past weekend.  They played at Northerly Island in Chicago.  Allison, her husband and eight-month-old daughter, my boyfriend, and two of my good friends (who I actually saw Phish with ten years ago) all together to jam out.  As Allison said as we drove to the venue, the five of us (minus Maddie and Ryan) squeezed into her Scion, this really was a "Phish show 15 years in the making." 

Allison, Walker, Johanna, Ryan, Maddie, me, and Spencer.

Lawn seats. 

The newest Phish Phan in our family.

Another Friend Getting Married, Another Awesome Celebration

I'm 29-years-old, as are most of my friends, so perhaps no surprise that over the last three summers everyone has gotten married.   In the last year alone I will have gone to 8 weddings, and three more are in the next two months. The downside: It's burned a hole in my wallet.  Between traveling to the celebration and bachelorette parties, buying gifts, boarding the pup every time, and of course, figuring out what I'm going to wear:  we have spent thousands.

  But the upside (and it's a major upside): So many excuses to see old friends and celebrate!

DIY glittered champagne bottles and a cake shipped in from
NYC courtesy of Abby, Millie's sister and maid-of-honor.

...This weekend was one of them as a number of my best college friends came together in Chicago for Millie's bachelorette party.  The wedding is in Michigan this September.  We're all bridesmaids, along with Millie's sister, cousin, and best friend from high school.  So a celebration.  It involved staying in a beautiful downtown condo that belongs to one of the bridesmaids family members, hand glittered champagne bottles courtesy of Millie's sister, some State Street shopping (the stores downtown have changed so much!), and the opportunity to test out dozens of different scented oils and create our own blend of perfume.

Personalized perfumes created!  Mine is entitled "To Harriette, With Love,"
and is a blend of pink sugar, white tea, and citron oils.

At Aroma Workshop creating our custom scents.

This is a beet margarita.  Sounds icky, it's amazing.  Millie's sister, Abby, is the executive chef at a Grand Rapids restaurant which serves these.  She squeezed the lemons and limes right in front of us to come up with this awesome concoction. 

The view from the condo where we stayed. Ridiculous, right?

Enjoying the view on Saturday morning.

Met the first day in the dorms and still, love these girls so much.

Two Years

...since Spencer last had a cigarette.  Cue the song.

Debt Free, Kind Of

A huge accomplishment this morning.  I finally paid off the credit card debt I accumulated during college and in the two years following. (Should have never gotten myself into this situation, but that's a different blog post) Had been chipping away at this for years now, handing over chunks of my paycheck, cringing at the interest payments. And wow, I can't believe I actually did it, without, I may add, ever missing a payment.

For some appreciation of this momentous occasion, consider that when I finally cut my credit card and threw it away my balance was up to $16,000.  It was an amount that kept me up at night, led me to call my mom crying out of hopelessness on a regular basis.  (I get a little teary thinking about how proud she would be of me right now) I used to dream about winning the lottery--just so I could get this off my back.  But alas, I've finally done it...all on my own.

Now on to student loans.

Vegas

Went to Vegas with the high school girlfriends last weekend for Maddie's Bachelorette Party.
So much fun, expensive, but fun.  I could write pages about it, but would rather just share some photos:

10 of us in total met up to celebrate (nine here because one was back at the hotel, sick)

We went on a beautiful hike in the Valley of Fire State Park, just north of Vegas. 

Got bottle service at a fancy club.

I took the ultimate selfie from an Escalade Limo.

There was an entire day dedicated to the pool.

And a rarity, I dressed up a lot.

April Fools' Report

Apparently Spencer is really into April Fools' Day.  It became clear Monday night (my April Fools morning), when I crawled out of bed and into clear tape stretched across the bathroom door.  And when Tuesday night with just two hours left of the 'holiday' he gave me a fake scratch off ticket that we went out of his way to buy.

(Spencer cleaning up the mess caused by the 'sprayer' prank.
(bottom right) Harry probably standing next to fake pee spots.

The last 24 hours have been a battle at our home.  And so, a scoreboard, and a final tally of the pranks.

Good effort by all.  Going to call it a tie so our truce remains effective:)

Shelter Dogs

A few weeks ago I started volunteering at Indianapolis Animal Care and Control.  A couple hours a week I take out dogs that otherwise spend entire days in their kennels.   It's pretty rewarding, more so than at other shelters were dogs are sometimes being walked regularly.  At IACC these animals really need your attention.

Anyway, proud of what happened today.
A family came in looking for a puppy.  They were disappointed to realize none are on the adoption floor at the moment, were literally walking out when I stopped them.  Told them they should really take a look at the dog I was walking at the time.  Delilah, a 9-month-old coon mix, had shown me love outside.  Is very gentle, easy going; she didn't bark the entire time I was there even though I passed her kennel and didn't take her out for a while. I recommended they take a look at her.  They did. And long story short, she was adopted.

It brings me back to when our family adopted Daisy:
My mom, younger sister, and I went to a local shelter with the stipulation no puppies, no males, no pitbulls (which I now realize is silly).  We didn't see any dogs we liked.  Someone working at the shelter told us we should really take a look at Daisy, and we fell in love.  We had passed up her cage, as a surprising number of people do when it comes to black dogs.  Nearly ten years later she's still part of our family.

Happy I could help someone else the way we were helped years ago.

Just Make Me Feel Loved

Everyone blogs for different reasons.  I blog to remember.  In this case, I want to remember this weekend.  The second anniversary of Spencer and I meeting.

Our anniversary falls on Valentine's Day.  I tell Spencer that's a good thing, that it means he can get the lovey stuff out of the way all on one day of the year.  Spencer would probably argue differently, say that it just puts added pressure on the day and his need to pull out all the stops.  Either way.  My requirement:  you don't necessarily have to buy my anything, just make me feel loved.   It's what I told him all week as he moped around the house saying he didn't know what to get me.

Friday came.  I surprised Spencer with a book he's been wanting.  And while it didn't make it through the mail in time, custom framed the poster from the event where we met.

Not knowing exactly what to get me, he just got me everything:
From flowers, to a bottle of Pink Moscato Champaign ('because we drank this the night we met), to chocolates and a singing monkey from CVS (a nod to this SNL skit).  He created a card for me: a sketch of me holding a teddy bear (because a coworker got similar fan mail recently).  He addressed Valentine card's as though they were from one cat to another, from our dog to one of the cats, etc. AND on top of all that, created a slideshow, complete with music and costume changes. He projected up onto our wall and we danced as it played.

Indeed, I did feel loved.  I do feel loved.  Really loved.

(The other side to this, I feel guilty.  That I put so many expectations, so much pressure on one single day.  That Spencer felt the pressure, likely felt like he had to go out all.  I feel awful that earlier in the day I had been crying to myself because I hadn't been paraded with love yet. But that's another blog post for another time, it's 2:30 pm and this morning reporter needs to go to bed)

Top Left:  Bacon magnet I put on our bathroom mirror for Spencer Vday morning.  He added the other quip.
The rest: gifts from Spee.

The Hardest Part

...about being a reporter is keeping my opinion to myself.

I want to rant, I want to vent, I want to let the world know how I feel about some issues.  But it's unprofessional.  It could come back to haunt me.

And so, a post I wrote moments ago that displayed my opinion on a basic human right being denied to many that is for some reason controversial, will be saved as a draft and go no further.  I won't share how I'm sick right now with hurt after having a conversation with someone of the opposing view.

Just know that my blog, my Facebook feed, my Tweets, they're all clear of strong opinions not because I don't have them, am not proud of them, but because I really like my job.