Long Time, No Post

Well, that just goes to show you what a new house and a new baby will do to your blogging life. ;) The good news is that our son is now 2 years old and still a bundle of joy. The even better news is that we're expecting bundle number 2, Lillian Marion Mandzok in just a couple of months.

The bad news is that being pregnant in 100+ degree weather and nearly forty is really taking a toll on me.

Thankfully, Vernors is EXCELLENT for morning sickness.

It's Been Quite a While, But I'm Starting to Feel Like Myself Again

So, today is November 5 and I just realized my last post was more than two months ago. So much has happened in just that short two months that it's hard to know where to begin.

I suppose that the best place to begin... is the beginning. Conception. What a blessed word! While it's very difficult to predict, it seems that conception came for Chris and I at around the end of July.

After months without success, with nauseating drugs, and with emotional hardships, we were finally able to conceive a child. For us, the positive test was almost too good to be true. We re-ran the stick test two more times before asking the doctor to order a blood test. The good news was that it was finally confirmed that we were having a baby.

It was funny. No matter how many stick tests came back negative, I found myself so overwhelmed with excitement, and nervousness, at the sight of that first positive test. One thing I've learned in these last few months is how one single moment can change one's whole life.

From almost the second week in the pregnancy, I had horrible, horrible morning sickness. I missed some work, spent hours at a time in the bathroom, it was just awful.

Worse than the bad nausea, was the fact that I felt so sick that it was hard to focus on the exciting part of being pregnant - picking out names (like Cyril), shopping for Maternity clothes, looking at decorating ideas, bibs, blankets, bottles...

We had decided not to make any huge announcements for at least three months. I found it hard to live up to that and leaked the news to a few people here and there. Turned out it wasn't much in the way of "news". Apparently, it was written all over my face. Even better, I'm sharing my pregnancy with a co-worker that is just a couple of weeks ahead of me!

By the end of September, I had put in three calls to the doctor about unnerving cramps and really bad sickness. The only help I got was "cramping is normal, just let us know if you see any blood," "well I suppose we can prescribe some medication for the nausea," and "there really is no need to come in this earlier than 8 to 12 weeks."

Finally, the medication provides some relief and the big first trip to the doctor arrives. At this point, I'm a staggering 11 weeks along and I "should be able to hear the baby's heart beat, but sometimes its difficult to locate this early." Floating on air and finally feeling better, I was really looking forward to the first doctor's appointment. The exam went fine, but the nurse practitioner wasn't able to find the heartbeat. "We'll schedule you for an ultrasound next week..."

We went to the ultrasound appointment with even more excitement and jubilation. Little did we know that it would be there waiting for us - that pesky moment.

Of course this particular moment had to be dragged out to an unbearable 20 minutes. "This is only an 8 week old fetus. Let's try from another angle. Yep, an 8 week old fetus." I knew the answer before I asked the question. "Well yes, we should be able to see the heartbeat from this angle... and we clearly don't."

More to come later!

Happy Birthday Uncle Gari!

Today marks the day that would have been my Uncle's 61st birthday. While normally birthdays are fun celebrations, this one has a note of sadness as my Uncle died close to 10 years ago of congestive heart failure.

Gari was my dad's younger brother and they both grew up in Detroit and moved to California in the late 1950s. Gari got more than his fair share of rotten hands dealt to him, but managed to always act like he was cool and in control of every situation.

I'm sure your asking yourself "Really, Gari with an "i"?" Yes, as it turns out, there was a pretty famous artist from Detroit called Gari Melchers that my uncle was named after. A few years ago, I traveled to the DIA (Detroit Institute of Arts) and saw some of the other Gari's work for the first time. That was quite an enjoyable experience.

I have many, many fond memories of Uncle Gari like...

• The time when I was really little and he brought his dog Pepper over to our house. That may be the moment when I first realized that Gari would definitely become my favorite Uncle.
• The time he bought me and my sister t-shirts with "Uncle Gari Loves Me" written on them - remember those iron-on letters and miscellaneous decals you could have put on to an ordinary t-shirt in the late 70's? I still have mine.
• The Christmas that he gave me and my sister personalized aprons complete with crayons and note pads. (We loved to play waitress for guests that came over to our house. We would take their drink orders, turn them in to Dad to mix, take them back to the guest and then expect a tip!) I probably earned about $5 doing that.
• The time in High School when he was living with us for a while and he came to pick me up from the library. "You know," he said, "Your dad may claim to be the best driver, but let me tell you the truth. I'm the best stick-shift driver, so if you want to learn to drive a stick-shift, you better learn from me." (I wish I had taken that lesson.)
• The time he called me to wish me a Happy Birthday. Despite the fact that he got the day right he asked me what day it actually was (Nov. 14 for those following along at home). His voice sounded so much like my dad's that I gave him a hard time for not remembering his own daughter's birthday! Then he laughed and said, "Uh, this is your Uncle Gari."
• Lots and lots of non-specific happy times at pool parties, Christmases, birthdays, Thanksgivings and more.

Gari lived a relatively short life when compared to some, filled with ups and downs. But I think he lived a very full live. He is definitely missed.

OK, It's not just about soda (read: pop) any more...

So, I started this blog quite a long while back with the intention of spreading the word about a fantastic, vintage, but long forgotten soda that I've grown to absolutely love. As you've no doubt read, it's really not just about the soda any more.

Life takes one on very interesting turns from time to time. Eventually we always get back to the road we were origninally on having enjoyed (or been pissed of at) the detour.

So is the state of my blog these days. It started as a means to literally Save Vernors from either disappearing or moving into the "gourmet soda" category. All that means is that it becomes more expensive. Lately, however, I've interjected some personal feelings and issues that haven't really related to the issue.

The good news is that it's time to get back to the task at hand. And this is really good news. Six months ago, searches on Google for "vernors" left me with very few - if any results. Today, there's over 2100 mentions in the blog space! http://blogsearch.google.com/blogsearch?hl=en&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&tab=wb&q=vernors&btnG=Search+Blogs

I doubt if I have contributed to any of these, but I try.

Dreaming

I had a dream about poor Murhpy boy last night. I was sitting out on the patio and here he comes, just waddling out of the bushes.

I am beginning to feel a little better, but I still have trouble. I'm not really interested in cleaning up the kitchen, I'm having a hard time sleeping, and don't even ask about getting the other cats more food. That was the sound that used to get Murphy to come out of hiding and be seen - even when nothing else worked.

The good news is that is has been a whole 24 hours since I've cried.

My Broken Heart...

It's been quite a long time since I've posted here. Too busy to be bothered I guess. Today is different. My heart is broken.

I returned from a fantastic weekend away only to find my beloved cat, Murphy, half-concious, but alive. My inital reaction was that he was choking on a hairball, so I stuck my finger down his throat to dislodge the object - only to suffer a couple of really nasty bites. No luck there.

Chris and I then rushed him to the vet hospital only to lose him on the drive. Riding in the car still haunts me. I can't seem to lose the image of his poor lifeless eyes that no longer recognized me.

I'm trying to get on with my life, doing the everyday tasks that one does, but it's not working. I'm racking my memory, looking for some sign that I missed, something I could have done differently to create a different outcome. Did he come out from under the bed at all on Friday while I was packing? Wasn't there lots of extra food already in the dish when I added more? Should I have asked my parents to check on them while we were gone?

The rational side of my brain knows that no matter what I may have done differently, chances are the outcome would have been the same. Unfortunately, the emotional side of my mind isn't paying any attention to that logic.

I expect that it will take me several weeks before I feel a little more normal again. Before I stop picking up little tufts of fur to keep on my nightstand. Several more weeks before I stop thinking I can feel his tail brush up against my legs. Several more weeks before I can look at his objects and places around the house without feeling really, really sad.

The worst thought occurred to me just this morning. Despite our more than 11 years together, I don't even have one single picture of the two of us together. I don't even have a digital picture that I can add to this post.

I feel most sad for my other two cats that loved Murphy so much. Thankfully, poor Kanga has stopped wandering through the house looking for him - although he's still very lonely. He overcomes his fear and even ventures out into the living room when we're home, just to be near us.

Oh my poor Murphy-Smurf, we all miss you so much.

I Love Vernors

I'm not even from Detroit, but part of my family is. When I was about twelve, I first mixed a half a glass of Vernors and a half a glass of Coca-Cola and was instantly hooked. To this day, there is nothing quite like Vernors and Coke for a delicious, refreshing drink.

Summer after summer lead my family back to Michigan for visits and mass consumption of Vernors. We used to ship some home to ourselves in California as it was not readily available during the 80's.

As I grew older, Vernors became easier and easier to find in my local grocery store. My shelves would ever be stocked with the amazing elixir and my heart would ever be happy.

Unfortunately, those days of ready availability are gone. More and more, I have to hunt down my favorite soft drink in stores all over SoCal. It's very disappointing and has lead to the creation of this blog.

I'm hoping that one day, SaveVernors will help begin something, a shared love for not just any ordinary soda, that will gather enough attention to make something I love easier for me to find.