Bear (bare?) with me here: my blogging timeline is out of order. I apologize.
Well that's enough of that.
The weekend before Thanksgiving... I think... is when the following events went down:
Koko head
16 mile run
Kayaking
Boom.
Friday Kelsey and I wanted to do Koko head crater, a really difficult and athletically demanding hike. We got off the bus about a mile or so from the start of the hike, but it wasn't that hard to follow the giant mountain to get to where we needed to go.
Once we got there, this was the view:
Yeah. See how it just kinda escalates in the middle and becomes instantly steep as shit?
But we weren't scerred (...or scared, if you're a regular person). We started the hike and it wasn't that bad. I wanted to make it up at a decent time, so I didn't stop to look around. Besides, the view was going to be the best at the top anyway.
The trail turned into a bridge at one point:
Frightening. I couldn't trust my muscles to keep me from falling through the cracks. How people literally run up and down this beast is beyond me. It's actually quite terrifying when you get to this point. Especially with those few loose boards. It's called maintence repair, Hawaii. Get on it.
I'll admit I was sweating like a man and my quads absolutely burned throughout this hike. But we made it to the top in 20 minutes, which was actually pretty good. Imagine being on an intense stair-climber for that long. It's not really enjoyable.
But the view at the top was completely worth it.
Kelsey and I then proceeded to goof off for 45 solid minutes taking pictures. Here's the evidence:
You really don't understand how long it took us to get a good picture of both of us in mid-air. Lots of setting the 10-second timer on the camera, running into place, and jumping too early, late, or having a ninja turtle neck and/or 80-year-old-lady-cottage-cheesy-looking legs.
Unattractive.
The hike back down was scarier than the hike up. One false step and you would tumble your ass all the way back down, and I'm sure that's not a happy ending. Kelsey could kind of trot down the stairs but I was Cautious Carol and took my sweet-ass time.
One thing's for sure - by the time I got down to the bottom my legs were shaking a bit. And then it was a solid mile walk back to the bus stop.
Solid.
And we were gonna go run 16 miles the next morning? Kthanksbye.
But Saturday morning we woke up at 5:45 to get ready to run. I was actually anxious and excited to get on this run, because my parents had just left the week before and I hadn't been training as much as I needed to, so this was a test of my endurance.
And I actually survived! It took us 3 hours, and when we got back to the apartment I put my feet in the bathtub with some ice-cold water and didn't move for a half hour. Then I attempted to stretch but instead cursed my body and feet for not cooperating. Thankfully my knee and hip flexor that had been causing me problems earlier were not hurting.
Score.
Then Kelsey and I took fat cat naps and had a giant brunch.
Sunday we had to get up early again because all 3 of us (Kelsey, Janelle, and I) were going kayaking with some RAs as one of their mandatory programs they needed to put on. We met at 8 in the morning and got the van loaded up and were on our way. There were about twelve of us altogether.
We loaded into our kayaks in one of the bays of the ocean. Kelsey and Janelle were in a 2-man kayak, and I was in a single because, let's be honest, I probably would have gotten pissed at and killed whoever was in the kayak with me for making one wrong turn.
Of course, curse my luck, right as I sit in and get situated in my kayak, a wave comes to tip me over, and I fell right into the water. Literally 5 seconds after getting in the kayak. And everyone saw.
Lovely.
But whatever, I got right back in and paddled away from the shore. Kayaking through the ocean was actually pretty cool. My only previous experience with kayaking was in the lake in Virginia where there was no water movement of any kind. And that was kinda lame. But kayaking in the ocean was a lot more interesting.
Spoiler alert: I didn't fall anymore after the initial spill. So don't get your hopes up for another accident.
We kayaked to the opening of and up through one of the small rivers that was close by. Towards the end of our journey inland, the river got incredibly small, sometimes barely even big enough to fit one kayak through. We had to go through tree branches and other shenanigans and pray we didn't get stuck and hold up the rest of the group.
At the end of our journey, there was a tiny rope swing. Kelsey and I got out to try it. The water, first off, was freezing!! Secondly, it was muddy as shit, and it had been a while since I had mud under my feet in between my toes, so I freaked out (only momentarily). The rope swing was definitely not as fun as we thought it would be, but it was entertaining to witness some of the guys attempt backflips and hopelessly fail.
That day was really fun. I wish I could have brought my camera and take pictures, but it was too risky of getting wet.
Oh, did I mention it absolutely poured on the kayak? Good thing I was already wet from my spill into the drink, so I was laughing while Kelsey and Janelle were crying over getting wet.
Joke's on them!
But really, it was a fun day. I'm realizing that these kinds of adventures are coming to an end, and it's getting so sad! Literally three weeks from right now I will be in the air on my way home.
It's so bittersweet.
I'm going to try to have as many more fun days and adventures while I'm still here. Because once I'm gone, I know I won't be back for a long, long while... if ever. And that's such a sad reality.
What am I doing blogging?? I should be out doing something fun!! Or sleeping - since it's 11:30 at night
Dad's text along with this picture: Not trying to make you cry,
but I like this picture. She's in her favorite spot in the
backyard and I thought you might like it.
It still hasn't hit me quite yet that Hannah's actually gone. I really just don't want to believe it. My dog who was completely healthy when I left and through the first three months of my semester in Hawaii got very sick very fast and couldn't recover.
I half-expect her to be alive and well upon my return home, and I don't want to accept the fact quite yet that it's not going to happen. I had a dream the other night that she wasn't really gone - Mom had just put her under a coma for the remaining three weeks I was away, even though she told me she had passed. I then came home, saw her lifeless in the house, started crying out her name, and she came back to life and was healthier than ever.
If only. That would be my dream come true.
I shouldn't dwell on the fact that she's gone, or the regret I harbor because I couldn't be there for her when she needed me. My parents did the best they could. Hannah just couldn't fight it. I just can't imagine coming back to my house and her not being there to greet me at the door.
I still and will always remember my last moments with her. Right before I left for the airport I hugged her and told her not to get sick. Stay healthy for 4 months. Getting sick was not even a option for her since I never thought it could actually happen. I just wanted to make sure she would be there when I got back, and I wanted to solidify that with a promise from her. I jinxed her. That's an awful feeling. She walked to the garage door with me. I said goodbye again at the top of the stairs, kissed her tiny little head, and walked away. I didn't look back. It would have been harder to leave her that way.
I should have looked back, just once more. I didn't even occur to me that this would be the last time I would ever see my best friend. But it was.
I need to remember the good times with her, how she had a great life, how she made me so happy. That's what this post is really supposed to be about. Not me sobbing over the keyboard trying to write this, although that's inevitable and I'm just going to have to power through this post as a hot, weepy mess.
The day we brought Hannah home I'll never forget. I believe we still had our fat purple van... I wish I had a picture of it. The whole family went to pick her up, which was a decent drive, after one of my soccer games. We had this little cardboard box to put her in for the drive home. All 3 kids wanted to hold her on the trip back. When we got home I took her to our front lawn by the mailbox to go potty, and she did right away. I knew right then and there that she was going to be a great dog. Nobody ever had to convince me of that.
She was a tiny little pup; a boxer with droopy ears and a brindle coat. Her tail had already been docked. We believed that she was the little runt of the litter because she was so small. Even as an adult she was smaller than most boxers are, and people always thought she was still a growing dog when she was 8 years old. But after a while when her gray fur started setting in, it was harder to mistake her for a young dog. To me, she was the perfect size.
Right after she came home with us, she got very sick. Throwing up, diarrhea, the whole works. Mom was concerned and took her to the vet. They treated her and she got better right away. In my young mind I figured she just missed her mommy and her old home and that's why she was so sick.
She was so tiny we couldn't use the food and water dishes we had bought for her yet; we had to use these small bowls that were about the size of a 1-cup measuring cup.
But Hannah outgew those bowls quickly. When she got old enough, my parents decided to get her ears cropped. I liked her ears how they were, but Mom insisted that we get them done because that's how a standard boxer looked. I didn't think erect pointy ears looked as cute as her big floppy ones but again I was young and didn't really understand.
Whoever did the procedure butched her ears up real nice, jagged edges and all. It looked awful, and not just because I liked her droopy ears better. They were messed up. As they healed and her fur grew back around the edges, it covered up the disaster a little bit, but throughout her life I would sometimes notice her ears and think, "Wow, someone really did a number on you pup." Good thing she had a pretty face.
Hannah was one of a kind. During her younger years, we would let her outside free to roam the neighborhood, and she would be out there all day. We never worried about her running away or getting hit by a car. She was a smart dog. The only way she would have been hit by a vehicle was if she was blindsided by it. She had a thing for chasing tires. She especially loved bicycles, motorcycles, and 4-wheelers, as well as the occasional dirtbike or golf cart that came through.
Wow, I sure do live in Illinois country.
I took her on all my runs. In the beginning I had her on a leash, but she didn't like that and neither did I. Eventually the leash became unnecessary. She would stay right with me unless something else seemed more interesting, which happened quite often. She always ran ahead of me, never would she let me lead. At the one-mile point on my runs I would stop at this little watering hole that collected rainwater so she could get a drink and jump in for a minute to cool off.
Even if Hannah was already outside preoccupied with something and I came out to go on a run, she would drop whatever she was doing and come along for the trip. Every single time. It got to the point where I would be inside putting on my running shoes and she would get all excited and wait for me at the door. She just knew. I really believe she enjoyed going with me on my runs. I also believe I wouldn't have gone on half as many runs if I didn't have her there with me.
After our runs when we went back inside, Hannah cooled off by laying on the kitchen tile. It was always funny to see her there laying in the middle of the kitchen in everyone's way, just hanging out.
Towards the end of her running career, if a car was coming our way all I had to do was call her over and say "stay" as I ran, and she wouldn't leave my side. I received multiple compliments on her obedience from people passing by, asking how I got her to listen to me and not chase the car. I just chalked it up to the fact that we had been on so many runs together that she just knew to stay with me.
This spring while I was home for break, I took her on a run. It had been a while since we had been on one together because I had been away at college and winter was just starting to end. Hannah faithfully came with me, just like every other time. It was only 2 miles. After we got back, I noticed she was acting differently than normal. She wouldn't eat or drink anything and just laid in her bed the rest of the day. She wouldn't get up for anything. I explained her behavior to my parents and they were concerned about it, so the next day we took her in to get checked out. I told the vet about the run, and she said Hannah was probably just super worn out and probably shouldn't go on runs like that anymore. Mom and Dad didn't know I took her on the run (I must have left that tidbit out when I first told them...) before we took her into the vet, and were like "no wonder she was acting sick - you almost ran her to death!". They thought I was really stupid after that one. But that was the time I almost killed my dog.
If any of us were ever outisde with her when another neighborhood dog approached us, Hannah would never let the dog get too close. She always stayed in the middle of us. I guess she was protecting us from the stranger, but the anthropomorphic side of me says she was jealous of other dogs and didn't want any of us getting too close to pet them. I was always constantly reminding Hannah that no other dog could ever take her place or be loved more than she was, but she never took a chance with other dogs.
That doesn't mean she wasn't a friendly dog, though. She was friends with all the canines in the neighborhood, except when one of us were around. I like to think Hannah was popular among her peers, so to speak, and was the leader of the pack.
When Hannah wasn't outside, she was in Sister's room on her bed. That was her favorite place in the house because it gave the perfect view of the driveway and front lawn, where she could keep an eye on things. Sister wasn't too fond of this because there was always dog hair in her bed, so when she was home she always kept her door shut. But I would secretly open it when she wasn't around so Hannah could attend to her post. After Sister went to college, her door was open all the time and Hannah had full access to the bed. When she saw something like a squirrel or another dog, she would bark and run into the living room to alert one of us to let her outside. I could always bet on her being on Sister's bed when she was in the house.
Caught in the act!
Hannah was not a cuddler, even though I wanted her to be. She would sleep by herself in her bed in the living room every night while I was in high school. But after I went to college and came back for winter and spring breaks, she started this habit where she would scratch on my door at 4 in the morning until I let her in, where she proceeded to get in my bed and under my covers and sleep at my feet for a couple hours. That was the extent of her cuddling, and I was always happy when she came in to sleep with me.
Dad was her alpha. There was no doubt about that. Whenever Hannah did something wrong and Dad found out about it, she knew she was in trouble. Every time he called her, she came, ears low and tail under her butt, waiting for a punishment, even if Dad just wanted to pet her. She was faithfully obedient to him, and it was adorable to watch their interactions. If he was ever outside working in the yard, Hannah was right there beside him. Daddy probably loved her more than he let on, and I'm sure having to let her go was as hard for him as it was for me. Hannah was Dad's "ugly spud", a very affectionate nickname in my mind.
Dad did a really good job training her. She learned how to use the bell at our back door when she needed to go outside to do her business. And damn, she was smart. She would ring the bell and wait for us to open the back door, but when she wouldn't move it meant she wanted to go outside, the real outside via the front door where she wasn't limited to the fenced-in area in the backyard.
She was so smart, she learned the word "outside" really quick. If anyone said the word, she would perk up, bark, and run around to the front door until someone let her out. Sometimes I'd make her sit and stay as I opened the door. I watched her eyes focus on me intently until I said the magic word. I'd mess with her and say words like "banana" or something so she'd have to sit there a second longer. Finally I'd give her the "okay!" and she was out of the house like it was on fire. She was always wanting to go outside, even if it was for a minute (which that happened a lot later in her life). I was glad we lived in a neighborhood out in the country where we could let her out to roam free and give her a happy life.
We taught Hannah all the usual commands: come, sit, lay, stay. Mom had gotten really creative and taught her a trick where she would be told to lay, Mom would drag a treat along the floor, and Hannah had to crawl across the floor to get the treat. That one was called G.I. Joe.
I was really proud of myself for teaching her several new tricks. I taught her how to "speak". It was funny to me because I would just keep repeating the word "speak", and Hannah would get all angry and riled up at the word until she began barking. I'm not sure what she associated "speak" with, but it must have pissed her off because it worked every time.
I also taught her the trick where I would put the treat on her nose, tell her to stay while the treat balanced there, and then said "okay!" and she would throw the treat up and catch it in her mouth. Very skilled, coordinated, athletic dog. She really was the best.
She knew the word "treat", and knew exactly where to go where she could find one.
Hannah also knew where the laser was, which was a fun toy for her. We would shine the light on the carpet and she would try to attack it and chase it wherever she went. She always got so confused when we shined the light on her paw or on one of our feet. But she knew exactly which drawer we kept the laser in. Even if we were in that drawer fishing for something else, Hannah would get really attentive and start looking back and forth between us and the floor, waiting for that laser.
Hannah was a great family pet. She never hurt any of us (intentionally). We would play with her all the time. If any of us said "get him/her!" to Hannah, she would playfully attack whoever we were talking to. If any of us kids were rough-housing and Hannah was around to witness it, she barked and tried to break us up. She didn't like seeing us fight. If one of us kids acted like the other one hurt us, Hannah would bark at and playfully attack the culprit.
She would never hurt any of us, and was really friendly to strangers. Little children that wanted to pet her could and nobody would be worried about her growling or biting. Hannah did have a tendency to love people and would want to jump up on them and lick them until they fought her off. That was my only concern when small children wanted to pet her. She had been known to jump up on them to kiss them and knock them over. It was all in fun, though, and nobody ever got hurt. I just explained that Hannah liked them a lot. She had so much energy and loved being around people and getting attention.
She only had a few toys she really liked playing with. They happend to be stuffed squirrels. She really had a thing for them. Even the real ones. She would chase and try to catch them all the time. Her success rate was really low, but she was never the type to be a quitter.
While I was in high school, Hannah tore something in her knee. It was her ACL or MCL or meniscus or something, and she needed surgery to reapair it. At this time, I was deciding what I wanted to study in college and do in life, and veterinary medicine had always been my first choice (because when we had to put my first dog, Cocoa, down when I was in elementary school), so I wanted to observe the surgery. I am grateful for Dr. Miller in Atkinson for letting me sit in on the surgery. She explained what she was doing as she was doing it and showed me all the components to her knee and how to fix her problem. I remember her telling me that if I started to get nauseous or lightheaded that I could sit down. But I was too intrigued and didn't feel the slighteset bit sick, even though it was my own dog I was observing. That experience solidified my decision to study animal sciences in college and become a veterinarian.
Our family is a boxer-loving one. My grandparents even have a sign that says "A house is not a home without a boxer". They had a boxer while my mom was growing up. A couple years before we got Hannah, my uncle got a fawn boxer. Her name is Mandy. She is the best behaved dog I have ever met. My uncle trained her very, very well. She is the sweetest, most lovable, cuddliest dog who doesn't have a mean bone in her entire body. So obedient.
When my uncle had to move, he decided to give Mandy to my grandparents. They spoiled her rotten to the core, and continue to to this day. But she deserves it. She's a wonderful dog.
Her and Hannah became good friends. Dogs tend to have a problem getting along with each other, especially two females. But for whatever reason, Hannah and Mandy were like sisters (without the fighting, because sisters still fight). They would run around and play and always have a good time with each other.
Summer 2011
So maybe Mandy has a droopy eye and a drooling problem. She's still the sweetest dog. Besides fading of her senses and joint pain in her hips, Mandy is still alive and kickin', and I'm thankful for that.
I also hold a slight bit of resentment, because she is older than Hannah but is still here with us. As happy as I am to have her around, it will always be a little sad to see her, because I will always be wondering why Hannah had to go first.
But Mandy was part of the reason Hannah had such an excellent life. Her and Mandy shared this camaraderie that was good for both of them. They had this goofy quirk where we would fill each of their bowls with food, but Hannah would eat out of Mandy's bowl and vice versa. You couldn't give one a treat without giving on to the other. In observing their interactions, I think Mandy was the more submissive dog and followed what Hannah did. Hannah was bossy and had to eat first. She was a bad sharer.
Like me.
Hannah just had a thing about wanting to eat every time I was in the kitchen. In the mornings when I went to get breakfast, she would follow me and paw at her bowl, wanting some food. As time went on all she had to do was look at me to let me know she wanted food. I pretended not to know what she wanted, though, and had to ask until she pawed at her bowl. After I filled it, she would look at me for the go-ahead signal so she could start eating. I'm not sure why she did this. She was strange. My go-ahead signal to her was "Eat, Papa!". From the 1964 claymation version of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
Okay I was strange too.
Go to 1:26-1:40
Hannah always amazed me with how smart she was. If I made a sandwich, I'd always give her some of the lunchmeat I used. It got to the point where I would be in the process of making the sandwich and open the drawer in the refrigerator where the lunchmeat was and she would hear it and come into the kitchen to eat her slice of meat. Incredible. What a fatty-fat-fat (from the movie The Producers). I had some strange nicknames and phrases for my dog.
Go to 0:28
The older she got, the more I appreciated my time with her, because I knew I didn't have all the time in the world left with her. I just didn't realize how little time was actually left for us. This past spring during break, my parents and grandparents were in Florida for Sister's softball, and they had taken both Hannah and Mandy to a kennel. I missed Hannah so much I drove down to Peoria only a day before I would have otherwise seen her, and picked them up. Over the summer, I would take her with me if I had to run an errand real quick. I loved taking her with me when I went places, and she was happy to tag along in the car.
While I've been in Hawaii, I've missed Hannah immensely. Whenever anyone asked whether I was homesick I always replied something like "yeah, I miss my family and friends, and my puppy too!" Every skype session I had with my family, I always got to say hello to Hannah. Just seeing her brightened my day. I knew until I got back this was the best way to see her. Dad kept me updated and sent me a few pictures he took on his phone to me. Those were adorable.
During a skype session. I was so grateful for these
One of the pictures Dad sent me from his phone
The bad news started a few weeks before my parents came to visit me here in Hawaii. Mom called and said that Hannah had had a seizure. They took her into the vet, but there wasn't much they could do since it was only one seizure and they weren't sure what triggered it. The vet mentioned anti-seizure medication and said if Hannah kept having them that they would put her on that.
Mom later told me that Hannah had been out in the garage with Dad while he was working on something that put out a lot of fumes in the garage. We all believed that was what triggered her seizure. We told ourselves it was a one-time occurrence, and she was fine.
And she was fine, for about a month. Family came to visit me in early November, and they left Hannah with my grandparents and Mandy for the week. She was absolutely fine there.
Then a week or two ago, Mom called me with some bad news that Hannah had another seizure. She didn't sound too concerned about it, but was thinking more about putting her on the anti-seizure medicine.
The rest of this seems like a whirlwind.
Sunday: Mom called me with awful news. Hannah had been acting strangely all day. She was tired and had no energy, was lying around all day, barely had any coordination, didn't eat or drink or go outside for the bathroom, and even looked lifeless when she looked into her eyes. As if Hannah didn't recognize anyone. She told me it was so bad that she was thinking of having her put down that very day. That was such heartbreaking news, and she and I cried together over skype. I wanted to see Hannah, so Mom had to carry her up the stairs. She looked like she didn't know where she was. I called her name and she looked around. I started talking to her and she wagged her tail slightly. Mom said she hadn't done that all day. It made me really happy to know that me talking to her got her a little excited, but at the same time it was so sad. It was just a sad, awful day.
Monday: Mom took Hannah to the vet and they said she had a lesion or tumor that was pressing against her brain. They gave her a shot of steroids to hopefully shrink the tumor. They also gave her steroid pills that she would need to be on for the rest of her life. The vet explained this could work for 2 years, 2 months, 2 weeks, they didn't really know. But they said it had a very good successful rate. I just needed the medicine to work and Hannah to hold out for 4 weeks so I could come back and see her. Maybe me being home could make her better. Mom told me the news over skype that day that Hannah had completely turned around and was back to her usual self. She really believed this was going to work. She really had me believing it was going to work too. Or we were both just hoping and praying it would work. I saw Hannah that day over skype. She seemed to be doing better, and I was so relieved.
I didn't know her situation was going to take a turn for the worst.
Tuesday: Mom called and said she had another seizure, or set of seizures. It was really hard for her to come out of them and her heart rate was high and she was panting hard and couldn't shake it. The vet told Mom to give Hannah some valium to try to calm her down. When I skyped Mom that day Hannah was up walking around not staying in one place just panting and not sitting still. She didn't look right. Mom said they were going to go to the vet tomorrow to see about putting her on the anti-seizure medicine, but they were running out of things they could do for her. We still believed Hannah could turn around and show improvement, and I was hoping this anti-seizure medicine would do it.
Mom said they were going to take her to the vet first thing in the morning. I told her to call me after the appointment to tell me how it went and what they were going to do for her. I knew it was going to be five in the morning my time, but I didn't care. I needed to know.
What I didn't know was that that skype session was going to be the last time I would ever see my dog.
Wednesday: My phone rang at five in the morning, just like I knew it would, but I didn't want to answer. I didn't want the possibility of hearing bad news. At that moment, I wanted to avoid everything and not deal with the fact that my dog was very sick and I could lose her by this phone call.
But eventually I answered. It was my dad. He said, "Sorry, Kate, but we had to put her down." That was the single worst feeling I have ever experienced. Dad told me that she had a seizure that morning and couldn't get out of it. My parents really didn't want to see her suffer any more so they just had to do it. In that moment, I lost it. I had balled myself up in the corner of the living room in my apartment, silently sobbing so I wouldn't wake up my roommates. For 45 minutes I sat there, numb, feeling nothing except like I the most alone person in the world.
All along, we kept saying that nobody wanted to see her suffer, and if it got too bad, they were goint to have to put her down. I absolutely agreed but at the same time the selfish part of me wanted my parents to wait if it got too bad on the decision to put her down until I got home. If she had to be put down, the only thing I wanted was to be there to say goodbye.
I was not there to say goodbye.
That is the number one worst part. Not being there for my dog in her time of need. Hannah was there for everything in my life and helped me through so much, without even knowing it. She helped me through heartbreak, losses, and random days where I was feeling blue for no particular reason. She was always there to cheer me up, and it worked every single time.
I wish I could have repayed her for that. I wish I could have been there to say goodbye to her and tell her that she was soon going to be in a place where she was done suffering.
But I can't go back and change any of that. All I can do now is be grateful and know that she will not suffer anymore. All I can do is remember all the fantastic times I had with her and know she had the best life my family could have possibly given her.
That's what this post is about. This is to remember everything about Hannah. My Hanners, Hanner-pie, fatty-fat-fat, sweeters, tiny head, ugly spud, and any other nickname I have ever called her. This one's for you, baby girl...
Since I didn't have 2 grand to drop and fly home to see my family for Thanksgiving (and neither did the roommates), we decided to have our own little (no. but seriously) feast.
Yesterday we went to the grocery store to get the minimum amount of food it would take to be satisfactual and feel like Thanksgiving. Our list consisted of: turkey, ham, instant mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, rolls, pie crust, apple pie filling, cinnamon, those one-time-use pans to cook the meat in, and vegetable oil.
75 bucks.
Yes, you heard (or read....) me correctly.
Wednesday night I desperately needed to get laundry done - being completely out of underwear will do that to ya. Tawni needed her laundry done too since she was going to Maui for Thanksgiving weekend, so we did it together. We started to watch a movie and finished our laundry pretty late, so we called it a night without finishing the movie since we both had to be up early the next day. She had a flight to catch and I had a run to complete.
Kelsey and I woke up Thanksgiving morning at 5:30 to go on a 20-mile run for marathon training. In my mind I was rationalizing that there was no way in hell I was going to make that run the day after Thanksgiving with all the food I was thinking about devouring. We spent four hours doing the damn run, got back and fell on the floor for a solid half hour, just not wanting to move.
Eventually we realized we needed to get up and start preparing for our "feast", so we started by throwing the turkey in the oven and showered. At one point we realized we needed aluminum foil, so we hobbled in our state of sore-ness to the grocery store to get some (and body wash, since I was out). What a rando Thanksgiving day purchase. We limped back just in time to cover the turkey.
Right when we got back I skyped my family for about an hour while I had some down time before the turkey was finished. It was so good to see everyone! It was also sad that I couldn't be there with everyone to joke around and eat great food and play pinochle well into the night, but skyping was the best it could get, and I was thankful I was able to at least see and chat with everyone.
After my long skype sesh, it was finally time for CHRISTMAS MUSIC! I don't know why but Kelsey and I were so excited about blasting Christmas music while cooking our Thanksgiving food, and it was the best day ever. Our turkey came out fantastic! Then we cooked the ham (or rather heated it up because we bough it pre-cooked) and followed to directions to glaze it with some brown sugar stuff. Turned out stupendous. If there was such a thing as Housewife 101, Kels and I would have aced that class.
We made the entire box of instant mashed potatoes. It seemed necessary at the time. Put our cranberry sauce in a bowl, busted out the rolls, and had ourselves a Thanksgiving feast! We loaded up our plates (that we had sneakily taken from the dining center just for this occassion - because we have no plates) and we told Ryan the RA who was joining us to bring something to drink since we had totally forgotten about that. He found a 2-liter of coke and our feast was complete. We filled our glasses (that we had also taken from the dining center) and dug in.
Kelsey and Janelle at the Thanksgiving table
Conversation around the dinner table this year was different than it usually is for me. Put 4 college kids together and you're going to talk about some entertaining (and almost always disgusting) topics. But it was amusing and I enjoyed it thoroughly.
After dinner, we were succesful at keeping all the leftovers we had - and there were a lot. I had bought a set of 5 small tupperware dishes earlier in the semester, and Kelsey and I worked to cram all the leftover turkey and ham into it. We had leftover mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce, too. We'll be making so many ham and turkey sandwiches I'm going to be sick of it by the time I leave this island. But when college kids buy food, they get their money's worth and eat every last morsel.
We're kind of like Native Americans who used every part of the buffalo they killed.
What a great analogy.
Then Kelsey and I baked our little mini pies that turned out absolutely adorable. We played around with the top crust on each pie and got some really cute designs.
So. Dang. Ador.
We decided we needed ice cream to go with the pies, so we walked (Kelsey and I were still limping) to the 7-eleven (so classy) to buy some vanilla ice cream. We ate them while watching The Grinch and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. That was the perfect ending to the best Thanksgiving without my family I've ever had.
Room 603 Ohana
This Thanksgiving I'm thankful for all my family and friends, and everyone else in my life who is alive and well. I am also thankful to have great opportunies like spending a semester in Hawaii. Without the unconditional support from my family, I would not be here right now studying animal sciences and working towards a profession where I can help sick animals. I'm also thankful for having had the best dog any pet owner could want. You helped me solidify my decision, Hanners, and I can't thank you enough for that. I'm also thankful for my roommates and good friends I've made here in Hawaii to make this Thanksgiving amazing and making this island my home away from home.
This was the beginning of the end. So dramatic, I know.
We woke up the last morning, and everyone had to pack. By the end of the week the room had become an absolute tornado so cleaning up and packing took a solid amount of effort. Goodbyes were said to room 2137 and we proceeded to check out.
Mom, Sister, and I went shopping for matching jewelry we could all wear. They turned out to be three necklaces with flowers on them. The same type of flower, but each was a little different. It was ador.
Family printed out their boarding passes and we went out for our last family meal in Hawaii at IHOP. Classy, I know, but I really wanted some breakfast food.
By the time all said tasks were completed, Dad was getting antsy about getting to the airport and returning the rental car and all that jazz, so we had like no time. We went back to my apartment where I collected things that I didn't need for the remainder of my stay (like my rainboots - thought I would need them, they took up a shit ton of room in my suitcase, and I didn't wear them once - I rock). They packed everything up and we said our goodbyes in the parking lot.
It was really sad that the week went by so quickly and they were actually leaving. We had a lot of fun and every minute with them was a good time. I knew that in about a month I'd be back with them and the rest of the family, so it wasn't the end of the world, but I wished they could have stayed a little longer.
Sister stayed back with me since her flight didn't leave for 5 more hours. I showed her around the dorms, which probably wasn't the most interesting thing in the world. Then we watched The Producerse on Netflix because that is absolutely our most favorite movie ever. Every time we watch it it gets funnier and funnier. Maybe that's just us.
Finally it was time for her to go. I called a cab for her and walked her out to it.
Goodbyes in general just suck. It never gets any easier, no matter how many times you do it. After Sister's cab left, I went back inside my apartment, sat in a funk for a few minutes, then realized how behind I was in school and started to kick it in the ass and get some work done. That helped take my mind off the fact that my family had just left me and I wouldn't see them for another month.
I'm so glad my family was able to visit me in Hawaii. If I hadn't have spent a semester here, I'm not sure how long it would have been before our next family vacation, and we were all in dire need of one. Time really flies by on this island, but when that time is spent with family you love, it goes by even faster. So thank you, family, for taking time off work and school to come visit me. You made up for spending three months apart from me, and you made this last month less difficult to go through. I will see you soon! Love and miss you guys!
Dad had signed us up to an all-day Pearl Harbor tour for Friday. So what does that mean? Getting up at 5 in the morning. Yuck.
Thank goodness for the lobby of the hotel having a Starbucks. A nice, warm coffee so bright and early was just what I needed.
We walked over to where the tour guide/bus was going to pick us up. Our guide's name was Dennis. It was fabulous. He was actually a really good tour guide; he seemed super interested in the information he was spitting out at us. Imagine having to do that every day of the year. I couldn't handle it.
I actually learned a lot from him, though, and from everything throughout the day. It's one of those things you just have to go to when you visit Hawaii.
We were able to tour through lots of things that day: a huge submarine called the USS Bowfin, the USS Arizona memorial, the USS Missouri, the aviation museum. I was a lot more interested in everything than I originally thought I would be. It was a good time.
USS Bowfin submarine
USS Arizona Memoria
USS Missouri
It ended up that it was Memorial Day when we went (the date was actually 11/11/11, so I thought that was kinda cool). Since it was Memorial Day, there were about 5 men who were survivors of the Pearl Harbor attack (in 1941, mind you) and were there signing autographs and telling people about their lives. They each had made up little one-page bios about themselves, which I thought was really sweet. Small world - one of the survivors that was there was actually a graduate of Moline High School, the neighbor and rival school of Geneseo!! It's sometimes actually crazy how things like that happen.
We finished the tour at Pearl Harbor at about 3:30 or so, and then Dennis took us around Honolulu for the remainder of the tour. I'm not sure where we went or what was said because I fell asleep =/ But I've seen most of Honolulu anyway, so I probably didn't miss out on much.
After the tour, we all went back to the hotel and hung out until the weekly fireworks at seven that Sister had missed because her flight came in the day after. So she saw that and liked it. Then we all went to Benihanas, a Japanese steakhouse where the chef cooks the food right in front of you and makes it entertaining. Expensive as shit, but Sister and I split a dish and so did Mom and Dad. The food was delicious.
Mom, Dad, and Brother went back up to the hotel for the night while Sister and I went to the bar to listen to some music and have some drinks. Rumor had it that Obama was supposed to be flying in later that night and we wanted to see what kind of a commotion that would bring about. We proceeded to walk around the hotel past all the security and guard dogs and a portable metal detector (why? I don't know). We found a large group of guests that had corralled in a particular area, so Sister and I went to check it out to see if Obama had arrived. Nothing was happening and I was all sorts of confused so I asked a couple hotel employees why everyone was standing around. His response: "I have no idea, Obama's already up in his room for the night". So we called it quits and left all the other guests there waiting for absolutely nothing.
Sweet dreams, best friend. I hope we gave you the best 10 years you could have ever imagined. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to say goodbye, that's the worst part. I'm just relieved to know you're not suffering anymore. I will always remember you as you were, fatty-fat, and I will cherish our great memories. I will always keep those with me wherever I go. I couldn't have asked for anything better from you. Sleep well, Hanners, and go say hi to Cocoa for us. Until we meet again, dear friend... ♥
Love you, Sweeters. Always and forever
The worst day I've had on this island. Puts so many thoughts into my head. What if I hadn't have gone to Hawaii? Would she still be here with us?
I really can't write anymore right now without crying. Another day.
I was going to post a countdown on Saturday because it was a great day to do it: one week since my parents left, three weeks until the marathon, and one month until I go home. But Saturday came and went and so now I'm posting the countdown with oblong days and unnecessary-ness. But I want to count down EVERYTHING. So here goes:
6 more HAW100 classes
7 more MICR130 classes
5 more ANSC200 classes
6 more ANSC446 classes
6 more MICR140 classes
18 days until the marathon
24 days until I get my tattoo
27 days until I leave for home
28 days until I arrive home
That's really not a lot of counting down. But it helped to get me a little more organized with life. And helped to realize that time is going way too quickly. But nevertheless, when the time comes to depart with this fabulous island, I believe I will be ready.
27 days to do everything I had planned. Ready, set, go!
