The Do's and Don'ts of Brunch

After enjoying a lovely and rousing brunch this past weekend at Tiny Boxwoods (apparently a Houston brunch institution) with our dear friends TM & JM, I am honored to offer the following tips and tricks for navigating swanky garden themed brunches. These are for you, sweet heathens. Fake it 'til you make it.

DO wear fashionable clothes in spring time colors. This indicates that you understand and appreciate the brunching pleasure.

DO NOT go for athletic gear, unless of course you have just completed a 10 K, "for the children", in which case color coordinating sports wear is acceptable.

DO check online for driving and parking directions. There is no need to annoy fellow brunchers by driving up and down the street trying to figure out how to park for 20 min. It's rude.

DO NOT turn your back for one second while trying to discretely hold a table for your party before it has been cleared. There is always someone older and more pretentious ready to prey on the younger and less socialized. Get it in your head: This Brunch is Sparta.

DO assert your position in the ordering counter line. This sets a precedence for your commitment and determines your position in the brunch hierarchy. Trust me, you don't want to be at the bottom of the brunch totem pole.

DO NOT ask for prices on menu items before ordering. It may say "moderately priced" online, but that does not mean that this is not a classy institution which holds itself above petty dollar signs in presentation. It also does not mean that they are above charging you your first born for mimosas, but you can't really know that, since there are no prices.

DO enjoy the people watching. This is a dynamic and exciting locale which integrates young professionals, college students, young families, southern belles, city folk, old money, and naturalists. Oh, and don't forget the puppies. It is not to be missed.

DO NOT make jokes about not having to worry about how much bacon you can eat because you plan to have a DNR in your old age when the table next to you may be able to hear. They may not share your offbeat sense of humor and may be mildly horrified.

DO enjoy the mimosas. Even when the waiter asks in a slightly judgmental way if you really want another one. They are bottomless, they cost me my firstborn, and they are weak, also this is an outdoor venue and I would hate to be parched. Thank you, James. That will be all for now.

DO NOT underestimate how long you can brunch for. Between all the catching up with friends, enjoying treats, taking in the scenery, soaking up the springtime sun, and the bottomless mimosas, this is not an averagely timed food outing.

DO brunch. It's a blast. It's different from the average activity, and it's a great chance to relax with people you care about and have few laughs. We definitely recommend the adventure.

Two Weeks Clean

News for those of you who didn't know: I have Graves Disease!
Even better news: I've been off the drugs for two weeks now!

Yes after two years of attempting to gain the upper hand on my thyroid, I am finally, completely off the meds. So what does this mean? Well, Josh has been extremely kind and helpful in fighting through the nap impulse, listening to my crazy dreams, and tactfully and discreetly handling it if I suddenly feel bad in public. Not gonna lie, the first week was definitely strange, however as week two closes I'm feeling pretty super and surprisingly normal.

So in celebration first, a toast to Josh:

To Josh, who has always been helpful and sweet, but also practical and a bit of a slave driver with the runs and no naps. Cheers to Josh to makes chicken soup, holds hands, and prays. Here's to you love, and many excellent days ahead, now that your wife is no longer a druggie.

Secondly: A look back. This is a three-word-essay I wrote for my senior writing class describing the first year of my diagnosis. Year two was definitely way better.

I am twenty-one. Night touches day. I am running. I am training. This is practice. Soon, I’ll race. I’ve been running. Hours have passed. But I’m running. However, I’m sick. I don’t know. But I’m sick. My heart races. My breath labors. But I run. My thyroid struggles. I don’t worry. I think, “stress”. But I’m sick. I run anyway. Why shouldn’t I? I’m not sick. But I am.

Class is brutal. I am struggling. I can’t focus. My mind screeches. But I’m fine. Of course, fine. But I’m sick. Everything is hard. I am worn. The teachers notice. The students notice. My parents notice. My roommate knows. Thyroid levels rise. My hands shake. I am sick. But I’m fine. I’m not fine. I am scared. I can’t know. Knowing means reality. Ignorance is bliss. This isn’t bliss. But I’m afraid. The appointment’s soon. Maybe it’s nothing. I know differently. I hope blindly. Please be nothing. I am twenty-one.

This can’t be. I sit, stunned. “I’m twenty one.” I whisper quietly. “I’m very sorry.” He states calmly. “We’ll run tests.” I hear him. I don’t listen. I am sick. I am sick. I am sick. I begin panicking. I am sick. I am sick. I am sick. My mind shuts. I can’t think. I am sick. I was fine. I was running. I’m a pre-med. What to do? I can’t do. I am terrified. I hear him. “Maybe it’s cancer. Maybe it’s Graves. We’ll run tests. Please don’t panic.” But I am. I am panicking. I am sick. I am twenty-one. 

Graves is hyperthyroidism. It is chronic. It won’t leave. It is treated. It isn’t cured. It is forever. It doesn’t kill. Just sticks around. Cancer is it. It is big. Cancer kills you. Everything shuts down. You have months. Both are bad. I want to live. Please not Cancer. Please not Graves. Be a mistake. I am fine. No, I’m sick. But how sick? I’m twenty one.

It is Graves. I’m not dying. Not anytime soon. Thank you, God. But there’s more. My hands shake. My heart races. My mind whirls. I can’t sleep. The tremors worsen. What to do? They console me. “Medicine should help.” And if not? What to do? I’m a pre-med. That’s my path. I am lost. Doctors don’t shake. But I shake. The sky falls. I am falling. What to do? I am sick. I am twenty-two.

I’m giving up. I can’t go. Maybe that’s best. Doctors don’t shake. I take exams. I apply around. I interview plenty.  I don’t know. I feel lost. I have options. None I want. Mom saves me. “There are reasons. It will work. Please calm down. Let’s make plans.” We make plans. I feel better. Not great, better. The medicine helps. Helps, not cures. I take exams. I do well. I have options. I’m not panicking. I am afraid. But I’m confident. There are reasons. I buy that. I’m twenty two.

Today is beautiful. The sun shines. The clouds flutter. The hammock rocks. I snuggle deeper. I’m day dreaming. Anything is possible. Maybe cures happen. Maybe tremors stop. Maybe they don’t. Maybe it’s alright. I have dreams. They are new. They are exciting. I’m still scared. But I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll be great. There are reasons. I’m discovering them. It’s an adventure. It’s my life. The sun’s bright. The day’s beautiful. I am loved. I need nothing. Maybe I’ll go. Perhaps I’ll recover. But I’m great. The sun is up. My hands shake. My heart races. My mind whirls. But I’m learning. There are reasons. I am twenty-two. 

Update: DEFINITELY applying to Med School.