GIRL DREW
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13 Years of Noodle
Thirteen years ago today, Ramón and I brought this magical creature home. We had already picked her name, Noodle, because I wanted it to pair nicely with Ramón’s French Bulldog, Alfie—short for Alfredo. We considered every pasta type we could think of, ultimately landed on Noodle. Ziti was a close second, but I’m glad we…
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15,051 days
Ramón would have turned 46 today. This morning, as I tried to think of a photo to share in honor of his big day, this one came to mind. We’d just purchased a nice camera to take on our upcoming cross-country RV trip. When I took this photo, I was playing around with the camera…
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Back to CF: Day 5
Rise and shine and wheeze! It’s day five waking up without having taken the cystic fibrosis “miracle drug.” Although I’ve toyed with different dosages over the years—even skipping three days between doses—this is the longest I’ve been without the drug since 2021. For those who are just catching up, the short story is this: As…
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Azale-yeah!
As I sneezed my way through the yard a few weeks ago, I stopped to admire these white azaleas. On a shrub of nearly identical white blooms, one flower said, “No thank you,” and showed up with a fuchsia stripe. Do the damn thing! I see you.
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Lung time, no update
A few weeks ago, I sent this message to my doctor. Trikafta = the “miracle drug.” I think I’m at the end of my Trikafta journey. Before I discontinue, I’d like to get some bloodwork done, particularly to gauge current liver enzyme levels and hormone levels (specifically estrodial, progesterone, testosterone, and any others that were a…
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My naked wrist
When I woke up yesterday, my Fitbit wasn’t working. (Yes, I’m still on Team Fitbit.) The screen was black, but I knew I’d charged it recently. I started repeatedly flipping my wrist over, hoping the screen would light up. Then I moved into the phase where I tapped the screen harder and harder, hoping my…
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Can you buy happiness?
I’ve been thinking about things lately. And I don’t mean “things” in an abstract sense. I’ve been thinking about tangible objects—primarily items that we purchase and make ours. One Christmas long ago, my then-boyfriend was excited for me to open my gift. I gently unwrapped the box and lifted the lid. As I peeked under…
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Means vs. Ends
I never regret taking time out of my day to write. Still, most days, I have to convince myself to do it. I don’t know exactly why I feel this way. Maybe it’s that writing is difficult. Or that I’m not sure what I might unearth while writing. Or that I fear I’ll fail in…
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Thinking Face
Today, to procrastinate on writing, I started browsing files on my computer. I stumbled upon a folder called “Ramón Headshots.” As I clicked through the series of photos, I felt a fullness in my chest—the good kind that results from a hearty dose of gratitude. This image specifically caught my eye because it perfectly captures…
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Just the SweeTARTS
I always look forward to Valentine’s Day for obvious reasons: CANDY. And specifically SweeTARTS Hearts, which I rank among my favorite holiday-specific candies. Yes, that is how you spell SweeTARTS. And please note SweeTARTS Hearts are not the same as sugary conversation hearts. Big difference, folks. I take my candy seriously.
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Massage musings
A few weeks ago, as I drove to get a massage, I rehearsed what I’d tell the massage therapist. I knew I wanted the full sixty minutes devoted to my back and shoulders—no need for any of that limb nonsense. I was ready to articulate my wants and design the massage of my dreams.
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Twenty Twenty Thrive
I’ve historically been the goal-setting type, excited about the fresh feeling of a new year. But as we welcome 2025, I don’t feel my usual level of enthusiasm. I’d typically read too much into that, trying to dissect the “why,” but I’ve decided to instead use one of my least favorite phrases: it is what…
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-thirteen and nine-
Thirteen years ago today, I went on my first date with Ramón. And nine years ago, we got married. Often, on special days like today, I marvel at how grief continues to warp my sense of time.
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Leg lamentations
“Recovery will take between four and six months,” the surgeon said as I lay in the hospital bed, cast up to my thigh. At first this overwhelmed me, but I remembered I’d always been a quick learner. In school, I easily picked up on new concepts—somewhat annoyingly ahead of the curve. But I neglected to…
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“I love you, but…”
About a decade ago, I was standing on the beach with a couple of my uncles, enjoying the perfect balance of sunshine and breeze. As water pooled around our feet, somehow the not-relaxing topic of politics came up. In a moment of boldness, fueled by alcohol, I posed a somewhat inflammatory question: “Does it bother…