A Tale of Two Kitties and Trader Joe’s Tapioca Pudding

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This post was written at 3 am last night.

On Monday our eldest cat, Sam, had to be put to sleep. I’ve talked about her in a previous post. We are grateful to have had her as long as we did, but she left a hole in our heart when she left us. This post is not a memorial to her because she deserves her own blog post. She was that awesome.

We went home from the vet Monday, and Marcus and I sobbed for most of the night. I cried so much I looked like I had just gotten back from a Phish concert. One of our other cats, Mira slept on my chest the whole night. I woke up every 30 minutes, still in my “Sam is sick” mode, and I needed to check on her. I cried each time I woke up and realized it wasn’t necessary anymore. Mira loved on me, and at one point licked, my face to pull me back. I mean, why cry when a Mira-cat needs petting?

When I get depressed and sad, my tendency is to curl up in a ball and go into hermit mode. It’s not healthy, and I’m trying so hard not to do that. The next morning, Marcus left early for a contract job an hour away. I got up and made myself get back online. I tweeted. I worked on the message board we run. I Facebooked. I answered some comments on the BlogHer article I wrote. I wrote some replies to comments here. I looked at a post I had been writing over the weekend and tried to tie up the loose ends. I jotted down some thoughts about our Sammy-cat. I sent one of my friends a text that said “I’m kind of proud of myself. I’m doing everything I can not to hermit out.” It was a struggle, and I was so glad that I had forced through the inclination to hide. I’ve often done that, and my blog has suffered as a result of that. This blog post tonight is also a victory, because I didn’t want to write it, but I knew I had to do.

Marcus and I have been treating Mira for a chronic bloody nose with a pretty strong antibiotic in case it was due to a bad sinus infection. We were more concerned about Sam, because it was obvious she was dying, but we still were worried sick about Mira. The antibiotic had made her queasy, and if there is anything you learn from this post, it’s to NEVER be unconcerned if your cat stops eating.  If your cat doesn’t eat for one to two days, get them to the Vet IMMEDIATELY or they could die from liver damage, especially if they’re on the plump side. When Mira quit eating, Marcus and I syringe fed her.  I made jokes on Facebook about how if any of our friends noticed that we smelled like turkey, they should not be worried about the fact that we were wearing a new horrible perfume or cologne. It was not a particularly funny joke, but the replies on Facebook and texts we got from our friends showed that they didn’t care. They were just worried about us and wanted us to know they cared. Just knowing that they were thinking about us helped us deal with the sadness and anxiety we were feeling. Marcus and I are so glad we have so many people in our lives that realize that pets are a part of your family. That helps so much.

An hour after I sent that “I’m not a hermit!” text to my friend, I looked at Mira and I just knew something was wrong. She was still walking around, but my gut instinct told me something wasn’t right. A good friend of ours was able to get us in touch with a really great vet. I’m surprised this vet could even understand me, because I was almost hysterical. In fact I did tell her that I might be over-reacting, because our other cat had just died the day before. She asked me how soon I could get there, and I told her 30 minutes. I got Mira in her carrier, got in the car and sat there for 2 minutes making myself take deep breaths. Then I drove, seeing that my iPhone was barely charged and hoped it would keep working, so I wouldn’t get lost trying to find this place. I felt like I was on the verge of losing it, but I knew I couldn’t because I had to drive and stay calm so Mira wouldn’t be scared. Knowing that this vet who didn’t even know us was willing to squeeze us in – the kindness in that gesture – helped make this trip out there easier to bear.

This vet was so kind. She took a full history and said she wanted to get blood labwork done right away because Mira seemed a little pale. Twenty minutes later, I got the results. Marcus had done a wonderful job of staving off hepatic lipidosis. Her liver levels were all great. But she had a horribly low red blood cell count, so low that the vet was worried about her collapsing and dying. There could be a lot of causes for the anemia, but she couldn’t really address those because Mira was going to die if we didn’t do something. And that something was a blood transfusion, and even then, they were worried she might collapse from the stress. I started crying so hard I couldn’t even get out complete sentences. Since my phone had died, she gave me hers and I called Marcus and told him what was going on. Money is incredibly tight right now, but I didn’t know if I could live with myself without giving her a chance at life. Marcus agreed, telling me we’d get the money one way or another. So we told them yes – do the transfusion.

I sat with Mira for about an hour and a half. The vet needed to deal with a few horse patients but left me with her personal phone in case I needed to call anyone or they needed to reach me. I called my dad and asked him if he could pick me up because I didn’t think I could drive home. Poor Marcus had to drive home from his contract job, get changed and go immediately to a job interview.

I wrapped my arms around Mira and kissed her and loved on her. Tears dropped onto her black and white head, and she kept rubbing on my face like “Girl – you need to chill”. I told her that I really wanted her to fight this, but if she felt like she needed to go, that she could do that. I would miss her horribly, and it would really be nice if she wouldn’t be bitchy to Sam when she saw her.

My brother came in, sat with me and Mira until it was time for her to go back to get the blood transfusion. I gave the vet a DNR order and said that if she did collapse, I wanted them to stop what they were doing and have someone pick her up and cradle her and tell her that she was loved. And then I gave her to the vet tech to get started. The entire ride home (about 30 minutes) I cried gut wrenching sobs. My brother sat next to me and patted my shoulder the entire way home which helped so much. As soon as I got home I noticed the porch cat that doesn’t seem to care for her house and likes to hang out at mine waiting for some food. And then a big cat out of nowhere took off after her and started attacking her. My brother and I rushed over to break it up but couldn’t find our porch kitty anywhere to see if she was hurt.

I got back inside and sobbed for another half hour. My brother kept giving me hugs and doing routine things like feeding the other cats, so I wouldn’t have to worry about that. I was just rigid, waiting for that phone call that said she had died. My husband called, and I asked how his job interview went. His words?  ”I was fucking awesome because I am in complete fucking denial”. After he called, the vet called to say that Mira has started the transfusion and the riskiest part was over. That if something went wrong, they’d call but otherwise they would call us in the morning. Marcus came home and my brother left. I started sobbing again, while Marcus hugged me. The whole time I got texts from friends, phone calls from my mother, and twitter messages from people letting us know that they were thinking of us. When the hurt feels so raw, it’s hard for anything else to permeate that sadness but those people reaching out to us, telling us they cared, kept us from slinking off into the darkness.

I found out later that the vet we originally saw sat with Mira and petted her while she got the transfusion. I sobbed for 30 minutes over that kindness. At some point my husband asked me if I had eaten any supper, and I realized that I had eaten nothing but a bowl of oatmeal at 8am. I have never been one of those people that when they get stressed or depressed, they stop eating. I’m the opposite. I want to EAT ALL THE THINGS. During a bout of food poisoning, I would throw up and moan “I’m so hungry. I want french fries” while my husband called me a freak. But that night, I wanted nothing to eat. Marcus ran and got some frozen pea pods and a rotisserie chicken and made sure I ate some of it.

I knew I needed to get a blog post up today. I got a heads up from a friend that I needed to be on my game with my blog because of opportunities that could be coming up. So I tried to suck it up and finish that “Food Trends in 2013″ post I had almost done. The only problem is that I’ve lost my funny. I feel like I’ve lost my ability to even think clearly. My mind feels like I’m pushing through sand. So I asked for help from all my snarky, funny, food invested friends to help me finish up the last part of the post I needed. The vast majority rose to the occasion and gave me great suggestions. I even laughed which was amazing. This is one of the reasons I’m grateful for the food blogger community that I’m a part of. They’re more than just food bloggers; they’re friends, even the ones I haven’t met in person yet. The helpful ideas, the absolutely so horrible they’re funny replies to my request for help meant so much to me.

I sent my post off to a wonderful friend of mine who is a professor of English. She often saves you all from my grammar errors. She is teaching me how to be a comma ninja. She sent back some great suggestions but also mentioned that the post seemed a little forced to her. Very funny but not exactly “me”. And then she said this:

I’m here to help as needed. Take whatever advice helps and leave the rest. And trust yourself. I know it’s hard to be funny right now, so my other suggestion is to write what you feel. Your posts when you do that are amazing. But write even if you don’t post it till later.  The beauty of your writing is that you share the way food and pain and food and happiness and food and community come together. How they become expressions of things we share and understand. You are as profound as you are funny (and often the two are perfectly married in your posts), so trust your voice wherever it leads you— unless it’s to cake pops.

I cried a little more after I read that.

I’ve always made a promise to myself to be honest with my blog readers. That doesn’t mean I tell you everything about my life, and small details or names are changed to protect people’s identities. But it does mean that I post what I really think or feel. I’m not interested in creating a drama filled train wreck of a blog for people to follow, but I also am not going to pretend that my life is full of whimsical moments where my witty husband constantly brings me flowers, and if there is a lesson in the post, it’s always wrapped up by the end of it in a neat little package tied with baker’s twine. Those posts always used to make me feel so inadequate until I realized that the majority of them were bullshit. Life is messy. It’s complicated. It’s full of wonderful things. And it can be a shit sandwich sometimes.

Putting out a snarky post about 2013 food trends would be a lie right now. It’s probably the smart thing to do – building on the post that brought so many of you here. I might be bumming my new readers out with all the sad stuff lately. But I’m not going to throw up a post that isn’t me and gloss over what is going on, because this is my blog and my life. And it’s going to stay that way if I have 10 readers or 100,000.

I’m taking my friend’s advice for the most part. I agree that I need to keep writing from the heart. But my heart’s on lock down right now, because there’s too much pain to feel all at once. I’m trying to crack the door open a little bit right now by writing this post tonight.

Today, we went back to the vet and held our Mira-cat. She was pissed at us for about a minute and then forgave us, rubbing our faces and purring up a storm. She was thrilled to be out of her cone and spent the next 30 minutes loving on us and trying to bite at her IV line. She even ate a little food for us. The vet told us she seemed perkier and was “talking” more. That’s Mira. She takes after her mom. She also ate last night, and that’s encouraging. She said that there’s a chance that even though we treat all our cats with Advantage, Mira had some flea dirt on her, and that can cause anemia or other diseases. That’s our best case option. We’re desperately praying for that one. The other options mean we’re probably going to lose her. And that’s all I can say about that right now because I can’t let that door swing all the way open. It’s too much. I drove my car home this afternoon, managing not to sob but with tears dripping down my face the whole time.

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Last night I wanted a bowl of homemade tapioca pudding like a dying man in the desert craves water. It was a pudding my mom made for me, and while some people find the tapioca disgusting, it tastes like home and comfort to me. But I was too tired to make it and while my husband would have made it in a second, he didn’t need that added to the load he was carrying.

Again, tonight I felt like I needed tapioca pudding in my life. I knew I could tweet my friends and someone would find me a good, easy recipe for tapioca pudding, because they would have loved to do something to help. But my eyes still sting, my back feel like it’s made of wood, I have rash marks on my cheeks from crying, my heart feels like a cheese grater has been taken to it and my stomach feels like I’ve done 500 crunches. I know that cooking for ourselves or others is often how so many of us food bloggers find comfort. But I knew I could not cook tonight.

We got in the car and drove to Trader Joe’s. We bought nothing that contained any nutrition, and as I walked past the dairy area, I saw it. They sell tapioca pudding. I bought it. I know it’s so gauche for a food blogger to buy ready made pudding, but I didn’t care. Some day I’ll get my mom’s recipe, try a few others and post the most delicious tapioca pudding recipe I can find. But I can’t do that tonight.

I’ll make my snarky post later this week, and I’m working on a post about surviving middle school through the power of my mom’s brownies. It will even have an actual recipe in it!

Tonight I ate a dinner made up of complete crap and had a bowl of tapioca pudding. It was not my mom’s recipe, and it wasn’t as good. But for store bought pudding? It was tasty, and it was what I needed.

Send prayers, vibes, juju, naked forest chants – whatever you think might help Mira. And send Marcus and I a little love so that we can make it through any hard choices we have to make tomorrow.

50 Comments on A Tale of Two Kitties and Trader Joe’s Tapioca Pudding

  1. Darlynne
    January 10, 2013 at 12:47 pm (2 years ago)

    My heart aches for you. You have my prayers and good wishes.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 10, 2013 at 2:21 pm (2 years ago)

      Thank you so much.

      Reply
  2. Kate @ Savour Fare
    January 10, 2013 at 12:50 pm (2 years ago)

    That pudding is DELICIOUS. I will fully admit to buying ready made pudding. (Also, their mac and cheese. Awesome.)

    This has been a hard week for you. Hugs to you and to your Mira cat.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 10, 2013 at 2:23 pm (2 years ago)

      We actually bought their mac and cheese last night too. :) Thanks for the hugs Kate. I so appreciate them.

      Reply
  3. Heidi
    January 10, 2013 at 12:54 pm (2 years ago)

    Hi Kristina, i can almost feel every single tear you are crying. I lost my cat almost 2 years ago after a 3 months battle. In the end I was not even able anymore to walk by my own so excausted I was. I lost my cat after loosing my mom, my best friend and my so beloved dog. It is always so hard. And animals are real family members. Anyone saying something different has never understood what real love is. Mira will live and she will be fine again. Just let her feel you are there and she will stay with you for another long time . You have all my prayers.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 10, 2013 at 3:04 pm (2 years ago)

      Heidi – how horrible! My heart goes out to you. And yes – I agree. Animals are part of your family. Thanks for sending positive vibes up for Mira. I’m visiting her in a little bit.

      Reply
  4. Elle
    January 10, 2013 at 1:16 pm (2 years ago)

    I know the pain and the heartache of losing a pet–they’re family. I’m so sorry that you have to go through all of this. I’m sending all the good thoughts I have out to you, your husband, and Mira cat. Hugs!

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 10, 2013 at 3:07 pm (2 years ago)

      Thank you for all the good thoughts, Elle. I’m about to head out right now and give her a little love.

      Reply
  5. Marisa
    January 10, 2013 at 1:17 pm (2 years ago)

    Kristina, I am sending mountains of love out to you, Marcus and your sweet Mira.

    And if it helps at all, I too have turned to that exact tub of tapioca pudding during times of distress.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 10:46 am (2 years ago)

      Thanks so much Marisa. I really appreciate it.

      Reply
  6. Alicia (foodycat)
    January 10, 2013 at 1:23 pm (2 years ago)

    It has been a bad week for cats – I know 2 other people who had to let theirs go this week – so I am very, very pleased that things are looking up for Mira.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 10:47 am (2 years ago)

      A good friend of mine lost her cat right before Christmas. It has not been a good year for cats. :(

      Reply
  7. Anita
    January 10, 2013 at 1:32 pm (2 years ago)

    Hi Kristina. Your post really touched me and I’m sitting here with tears spilling down my face. I understand the bond between pet and “owner”. Sam, Mira and your many other furry friends are very lucky to have you and Marcus take care of them. You’re doing everything you can. You have a good family too, one that supports you as best they know. I hope that somehow you find some calmness in your part of the world and that your broken heart will in time feel less hurt. And I haven’t had Tapioca since a child, but I still remember it, and those memories are good. I look forward to reading your Mum’s recipe when the time is right. All the way from New Zealand I’m sending positive, supportive vibes to you and Marcus and Mira. And hoping for the news Marcus wants about the job interview he went for.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 10:50 am (2 years ago)

      Thank you Anita. Yep – our furbabies are part of our family. I’m glad we have them but sometimes it feels like they’re just ticking time bombs of heartbreak. And thank you for the good wishes for Marcus. The job involved traveling 85% of the time, so he turned it down.

      Reply
  8. Heather @ SugarDish(Me)
    January 10, 2013 at 1:54 pm (2 years ago)

    Sooo… I’m a new reader and you SO have not put me off with your real-life writing. I’m so sorry about Sam and now Mira… pets are family and I’d probably lose my mind without my Norma Kitty Jean. It’s true what you say- so much of what I read every day puts a false “everything is ALWAYS awesome” filter on everything (once I read a blog post that started with, “My life is so perfect” annnd DELETE.) and things just really don’t always work that way. Reading the truth, happy or sad is always better, I think. Lots of prayers and good juju for Mira – and for you and your husband, too.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 10:52 am (2 years ago)

      It’s not that I feel like other bloggers can’t put a shiny gloss to their blog. It’s just that I don’t want to read it. I know too many people in real life who act like everything is always sunshine and daises – the last thing I want to do is read about it on a blog.

      Reply
  9. Megan
    January 10, 2013 at 2:32 pm (2 years ago)

    Dear Kristina,

    I’m so sorry about your Sam! We lost our Sam (a big Norwegian Forest Cat with a heart of gold) last Halloween, and it was ugly and awful and heartbreaking. And now your poor Mira! I’m shedding tears for you as a sit here at my desk and sending internet hugs to you and Marcus and Miss Mira. I hope she recovers! And I hope you are spared of difficult choices for a very long time.

    Yours is one of my favorite blogs, and I’ve been reading since the old days of–oh gosh, what was that other name? I’m so glad that you’re writing here again, on snarky days and on sad days and on all the days in between. I’ve always thought of this as a deeply personal blog with great writing; it just so happens that a lot of that writing centers around food.

    Give that kitty a little kiss on the head from me.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 11:08 am (2 years ago)

      Thank you Meghan. I bet your Sam was absolutely gorgeous. And thank you for the kind words about my writing. That really means so much to me.

      Reply
  10. Michael Procopio
    January 10, 2013 at 3:26 pm (2 years ago)

    It isn’t gauche for food bloggers to by ready made anything. Sometimes, we need not to cook, but to have what we need or crave appear instantly.

    If it’s any help at all, Billy Wilder had a habit writing screenplays for comedy when he was depressed (and tragic ones when he was in a good mood). I think it’s a great way to work one’s self out of depression and heartache. Some of his best work came out of this exercise. Could you imagine a world without Some Like It Hot?

    I’m so sorry to hear about your cats. I’ve lost several pets over my lifetime. Each time I mourn and swear that I’ll never go through that kind of loss again. But then I think about all the fun and love and comfort they brought me over their relatively short lifespans and, at some point in the future, I’m ready to start a new relationship with an animal friend. At some point, you will be, too.

    xom

    P.S. Write something funny. Even if you don’t feel like it. It really f*&%ing helps.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 11:16 am (2 years ago)

      Thanks Michael – I actually don’t think it gauche to buy prepared foods. We’ve been living on them and take-out for the last couple of weeks. I just know several food bloggers who would be appalled. Naturally, I don’t give a shit about any of their opinions. :)

      I’m going to try to work on a post later today. Nothing knee slapping funny, but it will contain that picture of myself with that amazing hair permed haircut.

      And you’re right, sometimes I do think of my cats as furry ticking time bombs of heartbreak. But I’d never give any of them, even Jefferson who’s kind of an asshole. His ride down the steps in a weedeater box makes his existence wonderful.

      Luckily, I’m got several other cats to comfort myself with. I like to tell people that I married my husband just so I wouldn’t be the complete stereotype of a crazy cat lady.’

      Thanks for caring. It’s very sweet, and I do appreciate it.

      Reply
  11. Marta Brysha
    January 10, 2013 at 4:32 pm (2 years ago)

    Dear Kristina, I am owned by 5 cats and 3 dogs. I am also a veterinarian and a blogger. I know and understand the devastation of losing one of your furry loved ones. I’m glad that you found a good veterinarian and that she is also loving and kind. The best part of my job is getting to meet amazing animals and the people who love them. I will often stay with a client’s pet beyond what I “need” to if I am worried that they are fragile and I am the one in the clinic with whom they are most comfortable and familiar. Sure, the nurses can do that, but like us, animals feel much better when they are with someone they know, even if that someone is just the vet they had first contact with in the clinic. I deal every day with life and death and the myriad emotions felt by pet owners and the zillions of different ways they deal with that. I have also had the difficult experience of putting down my 20 year old cat and old german shepherd, cuddling them and wishing them on their journey while I, myself, pushed the syringe that sped them on their way. It sounds horrible, but I didn’t want anyone else there at the end, just me, them and the love we shared.

    I think you are amazing to have written your blog post while your emotions were still so present and so raw. I have been in a bit of a hole for a few weeks now and my blog has not seen me (it’s a very different kind of blog, so a little absence can be tolerated). One thing I will say, is don’t give up on Mira just yet. As your vet said, there are many things that can cause anaemia and I have seen the most unlikely candidates claw (pardon the pun) their way back to good health. All Mira needs from you at the moment is your love and cuddles and the skills of her amazing vet.

    Take care, smiles from across the globe, Marta

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 11:29 am (2 years ago)

      Marta – thank you so much. I think it was a very brave and kind thing you did for your pets. I’m glad they were a part of your family. I wish all cats and dogs could have owners as wonderful as you. We brought Sam to the vet, but we actually helped speed Mira along with her journey. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I didn’t want her to hurt anymore.

      Reply
      • Marta Brysha
        January 17, 2013 at 5:06 pm (2 years ago)

        Kristina, I often say to my clients that letting their pets go gently is their final and greatest act of love they can give. It is always so hard, but I never have someone say – oh no, what have I done. They acknowledge their pain and we talk about the special one they have just said goodbye to. Then I usually recommend that they indulge in some good chocolate and wine and toast their beloved furry one and speak of and laugh at all the wonderful times they shared together. Almost all my clients remark that this must be the hardest part of my job. In fact, it is a very beautiful thing that people trust me enough to gently speed their pets on their journey and to share with me their most candid and raw emotions. We’re here, not just for the good times, but for the difficult times, especially at the end. That is what makes the human-animal bond so very special.

        Reply
        • Kristina
          January 18, 2013 at 5:30 pm (2 years ago)

          Marta – I can see why it would be such a comfort. You’re helping to make something so difficult to do just a little bit easier. When my FIL died, I was very grateful to the hospice workers. They made an awful thing less awful. We make up boxes with each cat’s favorite toys or things that remind us of them & we put their ashes in them as well. When I’m able to plant up more of my front garden, I’m going to buy plants that remind me of them and sprinkle some of their ashes in the soil. I wish I lived close enough to you so you could be my vet. :)

          Reply
          • Marta Brysha
            January 18, 2013 at 6:52 pm (2 years ago)

            That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

            About 15 years ago, before I was a vet, I had my pet rabbit Claudia put down. My husband went out to the garden to bury her. He came back and said: I planted her under the jacaranda that way she’ll turn into flowers. We have long since moved from that property, but whenever I see a jacaranda in flower I see my Claudia in bloom.

          • Kristina
            January 19, 2013 at 2:46 pm (2 years ago)

            I think that’s lovely. I already have a few plants picked out. For Bailey, my first cat, I want to plant a pussy willow. For Harley (my sleek black cat) a Black Beauty Elderberry. And for Little Man (god bless him – we hand raised him and his sister and obviously didn’t do a good job) a golden showers rose. I’m sure I don’t need to explain that. ;)

  12. Lynn Hill
    January 10, 2013 at 4:41 pm (2 years ago)

    I’m sending lots of positive thoughts to you from across the pond. Fingers crossed that all will be well.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 11:29 am (2 years ago)

      Thank you Lynn. I really appreciate it.

      Reply
  13. Cat
    January 10, 2013 at 5:40 pm (2 years ago)

    Izzy, Rocky and Skippy all send their furry hugs to you, as do I (well, mine is not so furry, really). Yes, our furry family is always there for us no matter what. I know sometimes it just doesn’t feel right that the ones who love us best, with all that they have, were designed to have such shorter lives than ours. We almost lost Izzy a few months ago because I was on vacation and he didn’t want to eat because I wasn’t home, I guess. He went from 11 pounds to 7.5 pounds… but you are right. He is eating again – like every two hours, but I’d rather have to feed him every two hours than have to lose him. He’s back up to 10 pounds – and at least we found good food that he’ll eat for less than $2 a can! For Mira, you just have to remember that you did absolutely everything in your control to help her no matter what happens. But all of us here are praying for success from the treatment that your MARVELOUS vet provided to help your Mira. That vet is an absolute angel!

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 11:32 am (2 years ago)

      Thank you Cat. They are a part of our family. I had been expecting Sam but it felt like a sucker punch to the gut when Mira got so sick. I’m glad Izzy is doing better and I’m glad he’s got someone like you for an owner.

      Reply
  14. Deb
    January 10, 2013 at 6:31 pm (2 years ago)

    Good Vibes Are Being Sent Your Way!!!

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 11:33 am (2 years ago)

      Thank you Deb.

      Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 11:33 am (2 years ago)

      Thank so much Erin. I wish I could get a hug from you right now.

      Reply
  15. Anita
    January 10, 2013 at 11:15 pm (2 years ago)

    I’ve been reading this in bits and pieces all day and I finally finished it! (You aren’t long-winded, it’s just been One of Those Days.) I’m so glad you wrote about this. And that you got your tapioca pudding. xo

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 11:36 am (2 years ago)

      Thanks Anita. And thank you for dinner the other night. I’ve been bursting into tears every time we eat it, but they’re good tears. Love through BBQ – it’s a wonderful thing.

      Reply
  16. Lisa
    January 11, 2013 at 2:07 am (2 years ago)

    I didn’t need another funny post by you. Don’t get me wrong, I love them and think they’re hysterical but the reason I keep coming back to this blog is because you are so honest with us. I agree with the person who said she didn’t really see this as a food blog, but more of a personal blog with a lot of stories centered around food. I won’t say you’re authentic because I know you hate that word :D but I will say that I’m glad you share so much of your life with us.

    Prayers & good thoughts going out to your whole family. Hang in there.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 11:38 am (2 years ago)

      Thanks so much Lisa – I really appreciate it. Life is wonderful, awful and everything in between. I’ve found that I’ve stopped reading blogs that only focus on the good. I get so much more out of a blog when I know they’re sharing their life with all the complications it brings.

      Reply
  17. Tanaz
    January 11, 2013 at 2:15 pm (2 years ago)

    How is Mira today?
    Tanaz

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 11:39 am (2 years ago)

      I’m sorry we had to give you such bad news. :(

      Reply
  18. Ann Whitten
    January 11, 2013 at 2:33 pm (2 years ago)

    Hi Kristina,

    I am so very sorry. I thought I had problems trying to figure out WordPress.org and how to get the thing designed to work but no such luck. Gonna have to hire someone I guess. I have two Chihuahua’s that are eight years old and I love them dearly. Everyday I notice them getting slower due to age. I know one day I will lose them and it will be almost as bad as losing a child. You are in my thoughts, but I know that my Steel Magnolia sister will, in time heal. Take time and grieve. You deserve it.

    Ann

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 11:41 am (2 years ago)

      Thank you Ann. My friend has a Chihuahua that’s 16 years old so don’t give up hope. And I am going to talk a little bit of time to grieve. If I try to bottle it up inside of me, it just festers there.

      Reply
  19. Paula
    January 11, 2013 at 10:14 pm (2 years ago)

    you know what? it doesn’t matter who you invite into your family and heart- Mira could be an iguana. she’s still part of your heart. I hope she doesn’t leave a hole in it.

    and I get the tapioca thing. my mom used to make us tapioca pudding, which my dad wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole because he got too much of it in the Pacific when he was with the Sea Bees during WWII- he used to call it fish-eye pudding. but I love the stuff- i’m going to have to look for it at TJ’s next time I go.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 11:46 am (2 years ago)

      Thanks Paula – we tried our best. And I could sit here and recriminate myself for hours but I when she walked into our life, she a skin and bones. I’m so glad we had her but we miss her so so much.

      There are so many comfort foods my mom made, but tapioca pudding is one that is particularly soothing. I bought macaroni and cheese for Marcus and pudding for me.

      Reply
  20. Ann
    January 13, 2013 at 2:57 pm (2 years ago)

    Just stopped by to check on you. I hope you feel better soon. Sure miss you!!!

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 11:46 am (2 years ago)

      Thanks Ann – I posted an update last night.

      Reply
  21. Jenni
    January 14, 2013 at 7:25 am (2 years ago)

    Thinking of you, friend. I don’t have any words, but I am here and beaming love your way.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      January 17, 2013 at 11:47 am (2 years ago)

      Thank you so much Jenni – that means so much to be right now.

      Reply
  22. The Modern Gal
    February 4, 2013 at 2:58 pm (2 years ago)

    I’m incredibly not-caught-up on your blog at the moment, but I know how the next chapter in this story goes, and I want to say I’m sorry about your sweet, sweet kitties. Losing your loved ones is so hard, and losing them in pairs is so much harder.

    Your professor friend is very wise. The best writing is honest writing with honest emotions. Life surely is a shit sandwich more often than it should be, and we shouldn’t pretend it isn’t. Good for you for pushing yourself into not being a hermit, but make sure you don’t take that so far that you don’t do the mourning that you need to do.

    Reply
    • Kristina
      February 6, 2013 at 12:13 pm (2 years ago)

      Thank you. I’ll be very honest and say that I’m still in shock. The whole way it happened was so sudden. I have been doing a lot of grieving, usually in inappropriate places like my yoga class. I’m told that bursting into tears in yoga is not uncommon, but it is a bit discomforting to me.

      A big hug to you because I know that although you had a wonderful trip, you’re still dealing with a lot of grief. I’m sorry. If there was a way to lift any of that load from you, I would.

      PS – shit sandwich is one of my favorite terms. I use it frequently.

      Reply

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