Flibberty

Waiting is the hardest part

2010-06-18T11:57:00.003-05:00

I have spent my morning waiting to hear from Brett regarding the status of Maggie's ear infection. She has had an ear infection for about two-months, and has undergone three courses of increasingly strong antibiotics. I know it's a relatively minor thing, but it was upsetting me that my baby was sick and seemingly constantly. I know, she's in daycare and it's to be expected, but I also thought that she wouldn't have so many ear infections because she is 100% breastfed. So much for that theory.

Anyway, it just sort of highlights the difficulty for me of having to go to work. This is seriously like a totally minimal issue as difficulties go, I know that, but it's an example of the working-mom guilt that I have. I totally underestimated how hard it would be to be a working mom. This is, again, not news to anyone, but I honestly thought it would be great and that I wouldn't want to be a stay-at-home. Turns out I totally want to be a stay-at-home. I miss my baby when I'm at work, and more than that, the logistics of working and breastfeeding are just a challenge for me.

Pumping is not only time consuming and stressful to perform at work, but it's also consistently led to clogged ducts and inconsistent production that just stresses me out. I understand that a lot of women supplement with formula, and we tried this, but Maggie did not tolerate the formula. She had two bottles one day, and spent the following 24 hours projectile vomiting. I just didn't want to do that again, so I vowed to make sure that all she ever got was my breastmilk. She is seven months old today and that's all she's had. I am proud of this because it's been a huge commitment and struggle on my end. It wouldn't be if I didn't have to go to work.

I'm not a breastfeeding nazi. If Maggie had responded well to formula she'd be having it, but she didn't, so here we are. I'm just having trouble with the concept of having it all. In my situation, having it all means compromising somewhere all of the time. My job is not nearly as important to me as my daughter, so it gets compromised. I am by no means not doing my job, but I'm not going above and beyond and pursuing things in my career that would advance me quickly because I refuse to leave my daughter for any period of time. First of all that would be impossible given the breastfeeding and second of all it would be a huge demand on Brett because Maggie is a two-parent baby. She prefers us both to be there at night and I'm not really sure she would go to bed without us both. Maybe she's spoiled, maybe we're overly doting and crazy, but she is one awesome baby and she's doing so well that I don't mind.

I'm rambling like crazy, but it's hard for me to get a handle on all of this. I never thought I'd be saying that maybe having it all is not really the best goal for me. Maybe I wish I could stay at home with her and feel like I'm really excelling in one area instead of just getting by in all areas. This shit is tough for me.

And now on to a different topic. Health kick. It's off to a slow but steady start. I've cut way down on the sugar and white bread consumption and that feels good. I'm also going to the doctor on Monday and I suspect I'll be starting physical therapy for my back pain/sciatica again. Having a c-section really did a number on my core strength and I need help getting that back.

Oh, and the wait is now over. Maggie is free of ear infection! Hallelujah!

more on momhood

2010-06-10T14:21:00.003-05:00

Sometimes Brett and I say to eachother, "I can't believe we have a baby." It's true, I cannot believe we have a baby and I can't believe how cute she is (I'm not going to try to be humble, my kid is CUTE). I'm her only mommy and I will do right by her. She is a dream. My Maggie.

Having said that, I also cannot believe how much more fragile life seems these days. I worry about her health and well being frequently and feel like disaster is possibly waiting around the corner at all times. This is not healthy, and it's something I need to get control of. After she was born, I had some tough times and was occasionally over come by dark thoughts. Thought of horrible things happening to her and a fear of living a life without her. I am so in love with my baby that I don't think I could live without her. I think of parents who have lost their children and it floors me. Our neighbors lost two of their three children to a terrible, painful disease and I don't understand how they've survived the grief. You survive because that's what you do, but the pain must have felt unbearable. I have a tremendous amount of anxiety, and I think I've dealt with it by eating. I know, that sound so lame, but it's true. It's not like I'm paralyzed by fear, but I think that this sort of under the surface fear and anxiety over something happening to my daughter has taken me by surprise. I have always had anxiety issues, but this is new and I don't quite know how to deal with it. My general way to deal with anxiety is to eat, and so I have, but I didn't know why. But I really think that it's this anxiety over her. I don't know if this one warrants therapy, but I do know that it warrants exploration and perhaps a dose of reality. Hello parenthood, you're a whole new level of possible crazy, but I promise to take care of it for her.

News Flash . . .

2010-06-10T11:12:00.004-05:00

Parenting is HARD. I know, it's shocking. But here's the thing, I knew it would be tiring and emotionally demanding to have a baby, but I got it totally wrong. I'm really not all that tired, and most of the emotion comes from how much I LOVE this child of mine. The thing that's hard is that it never stops. There are no breaks. It's constant and completely overwhelming at times. Especially because our child does not even sleep by herself, so there is literally no break. I'm not really complaining here, I'm not, because I wouldn't trade it for the world, but I am stopping to pause and say, "hey, this is different and kind of hard." There's a shit load of responsibility (DUH!) and that in and of itself is HARD. Every parent goes through it, and we are not special.

To that end, I need to take better care of myself because I am fatigued. We sleep great, it's just in a family bed. This is what works for us right now, because I'd rather get 8 hours of sleep with the baby, than 3 with her in her own bed. Plus, she's doing amazingly well, and why fuck with it? I know, I'm defensive, but seriously, you can't imagine the weirdness we receive in response to the knowledge that our baby sleeps in our bed. To each their own, but it's not that weird. Goodnight.

Now, since having this baby, my back and sciatica are screaming at me, and now my knees have started to hurt. I've lost the baby weight, but quite frankly, I really didn't gain that much anyway. The weight I have was here before the baby. The thing is that before the baby I was not lifting 18 pounds on a regular basis, and spending huge portions of my day on the floor and in contorted positions in response to an increasingly mobile infant. It's taking its toll and I need to get into physical shape so I won't need to replace all of my joints. It's ridiculous how old I physically feel. It's unnecessary too.

So . . . here we go with a health kick. And let's hope it's not a kick but an actual healthy forever. God help me, I sort of hate this, but I have to do it for me and my baby. I want to be a physically active mom and keep up with my baby and hopefully her babies. I don't want to be like my parents who cannot (for various reasons, not all their fault) babysit their grand-daughter. I want to feel good and feel energetic.

But how do I do this? Well first and foremost I have got to lose weight. I think that if I lost 20 pound I would feel markedly better, but if I lost 40 pounds I would feel terrific (not to mention probably look a lot better). But how do I do this? Eat less, obvs. The thing that makes me nervous about this is that I'm still 100% breastfeeding, which makes me hungrier than I could ever imagine. It's like having the munchies several times a day. If I don't eat regularly, I literally get sick. I feel dizzy, nauseous, all together awful. So how do I limit my caloric intake without compromising myself and my baby? Eat good food right? No more M&Ms and white bread and butter. So sad, but so necessary.

So, that's that. I have to publically declare that from here on out I am going to make a valid, valid, earnest attempt to get healthy. For my family. Hopefully it will be a HUGE success, but if things don't get off to a good start I may break down and joint WW or something. We'll see, but wish me well on this endevour, however easy it seems to some, it's not for me.

spouting about childbirth

2010-02-05T10:56:00.004-06:00

I just have to interject in here (between the parts of my birth story) that the thing I learned about child birth is that there is no perfect birth. My biggest disappointment with pregnancy and childbirth was that there was a ton of misinformation out there and it really feels (at least it did to me) that you have to pick a side. You are either going natural or you are going medical intervention. It also seemed to me that both sides negated the worth of the other side and that was tough. I felt like my doctor did not ever listen to me regarding my wish for an epidural free labor, and I feel like our Bradley coach was a misinformed idiot who spouted a bunch of crap selling it as science. I'm not saying all Bradley teachers are like this, but our's was.

I felt ironically more unprepared for childbirth by taking the class and by discussing things at length with my doctor because I got a multitude of conflicting information. At no point did I feel confident in any choice because I felt like I could never get a straight answer. And maybe that's the problem right there. There just isnt' a straight answer and you just have to choose the course that's right for you. Go with your gut, and my gut told me early on that perhaps this doctor was not the doctor for me. But logically he was because he knew me, he knew my history, he had performed surgery on me the previous year and I sort of credited him for even getting my pregnant (Brett won't appreciate that line) because he helped me with endometriosis and I did get pregnant. But, I should have followed my gut. I'm not saying I would have found a doctor that was into the natural birth, but I certainly would have found a doctor that would have listened to me and talked to me about things like they were real options and not just propaganda from Mothering magazine (which I subscribe to by the by).

Who knows? I do wish things had gone differently. I do, I have to be honest about that, but I also don't, because my Magnolia is here and she is perfect. She is a dream. She is magic. I'm greatful for medicine and for talented surgeons and for anesthesia. I am greatful for baby monitors and relaxation techniques and bonding with my husband during those ridiculous Bradley classes. I am greatful that I have enough presence of mind not to completely drink the kool-aid and mostly I am greatful that I have this little family. A family that has not slept in nigh on 12 weeks, but a family nonetheless. I am not a religious woman, and truth be told, the experience of becoming a mom has made me even less religious (more on that maybe later) but I do believe that nature and the creation of life is some amazing shit. Mind blowing really. Having Magnolia has connected me to the world and to humanity in a way that I feel is a true gift. I am lucky.

END CRAZY TALK

gratuitous baby picture

2010-02-05T09:42:00.004-06:00

Because I'm at work and miss her . . .

The Birth: Part one

2010-02-04T10:01:00.001-06:00

So here we go with the birth story . . . I have to say that I haven’t really recounted this since it happened. Brett and I occasionally revisit it, but we try not to because the main lesson we learned from this experience is that the only important thing is a healthy and safe baby. We got that. I would like to shoot my pre-birth self who claimed that a "natural birth" was the right way to go. The right way is the way that keeps everyone safe and healthy.

My OB decided that he wanted to induce me because the baby kept having these slightly scary tachycardic episodes and he said that once I reached 39 weeks, I was full term and there was no reason not to get the baby out. I was so desperate to have this baby that I thought GREAT!
Thus, on November 17th, my official 39-week mark, Brett and I drove to the hospital with 192 bags of unnecessary luggage and checked in for my induction. I received Cervadil overnight, and then in the morning I got the BIG BAD Pitocin.

So we check in and make it to the delivery room, where we will be spending the night. I get to hang out in the actual delivery bed, and Brett gets to stay on this absurd pull-out couch thing. The room is HUGE and Brett and I are super excited when we see the receiving blankets laid out in the hospital bassinet. OH MY GOD, I think, this is really happening.

Our first nurse comes in and explains the Cervadil to me. It’s this weird tampon like thing that she has to insert in me, without any lubrication. Not painful, but not comfortable either. The nurse also told me that she would be putting in the IV and the external fetal monitors. There ends any potential for sleeping comfortably.

In goes the Cervadil, on go the “interventions” and hereby begins the long slow decent into madness.

Brett and I stayed up and watched The Office, followed by an episode of Dirty Jobs. We read a little bit, we talked a lot. We were excited. Our first nurse left and the night nurse came on. She asked me if I wanted anything to help me sleep. I declined.

We went to “sleep.” The night nurse came in 3,000 times to re-position the fetal monitors and help me readjust my position. Every time I had to go to the bathroom I had to get Brett to help me unplug the fetal monitor and lug my IV with me to the bathroom, wherein I had to pee in a “hat.” Sleeping did not really occur.

Come 6am it the doc on call came in to check me. I hadn’t progressed at all, so it was time to start the Pitocin. I also had to have IV antibiotics because I was positive for Strep B.
Nothing happened for a while, so they decided to break my water. That was not painful at all, but certainly weird. I had some fuzzy socks on and the doctor was strangely concerned about them getting wet. They did not. There was no meconium staining in the fluid, so all seemed to be fine.

The contractions sort of started, but nothing interesting. The doc came to check me again and this time he did it with meaning because that hurt like a mother fucker. I still wasn’t really progressing and there was some talk about how my cervix was doing something weird with the baby’s head. I still don’t really understand. Brett explained it to me and tried to show me with his hands, but I still had no clue. I guess he understands the female body better than I.
Anyway, time kept ticking along and we got a new nurse around 8am. I lovely woman named Rhonda. I heart Rhonda. Rhonda made this whole experience okay. For all of you out there who will someday have a baby in a hospital, I hope you get a nurse like Rhonda. Except for one thing . . . she was really really into me getting an epidural.

Now Brett and I were pretty adamant that I wasn’t going to have an epidural. Nope. Not for us. But then I got hooked up on a thousand IVs. I had one IV for fluid, one for Pitocin, one for antibiotics. Then there were the monitors that had to be on all of the time because of the Pitocin. Basically, I was strapped to the bed and could not really move around at all.
The not moving around thing was fine, until the contractions really started in earnest. They hurt (shocking, I know). One hit while I was on the way to the bathroom and therefore standing up. That was a lot easier to take, but once I had to return to the bed, they were really really painful.

Rhonda kept telling me not to wait too long for the epidural. Then she told me that the anesthesiologist was making his rounds, and really we should grab him now, and basically it was now or never. At this point, I really felt like I could continue without an epidural, but it also seemed like maybe I couldn’t take this pain if it got much worse. I didn’t know what to do. I was totally confused and I felt like the entire hospital was going to make me get an epidural no matter what.

I got an epidural.

The anesthesiologist was hysterical. His name was Dr. Tooma for starters, and he was this very dorky, middle aged guy who was incredibly, perhaps overly, friendly. But thank god he was so nice, because that procedure is just weird. So weird. I don’t remember it being particularly painful, but it was very bizarre. However, I must say that after the epidural started it was bliss. Pure relief. For a few minutes.

After the epidural was in and I was comfortable (I have to say, it was wonderful) Rhonda suggested that Brett go get some lunch, and that I try to take a nap. She was going to go do some paperwork. I was left alone. Unfortunately, that’s when I had what they call a vasovagal attack in response to the epidural. My blood pressure dipped way down (I don’t remember the exact number, but it was frightening and all sorts of alarms started going off) and I pretty much passed out. I was also shaking severely because when your veins expand like that, you tend to get very cold. It was severe enough that they had to stop the epidural for fear that I would go into cardiac arrest and give me several epinephrine shots in my thigh. Brett came back from lunch and really wished he had never left, obviously. My blood pressure sort of returned, but then would go back down again. The baby was reacting not so well to this hospitable environment. This kind of thing can have severe consequences on the baby, so my OB (who arrived specifically for me) decided that it was time to get baby out. A C-section was imminent and Brett and I were both crying out of disappointment and fear.

Everything happened so quickly from then on. Brett was given scrubs and went to put them on. I already had a catheter in preparation for the epidural, but Rhonda needed to shave me. A few other nurses came in to get things ready, and in about 10 minutes we were on our way to the OR. Brett had to go wait in another room while they prepped me for surgery, and thus I was alone. I was so freaked out and I don’t think terrified really conveys what I was feeling. Thank god for Dr. Tooma. During a c-section the anesthesiologist stays up by your head and monitors how much anesthesia you need and how you’re reacting. So while they were prepping me he was telling me that he was going to take good care of me and that after the surgery he had a whole bag of “good stuff” and I could have whatever I wanted. He was like a drug pusher on the street, which I found oddly charming and hilarious. He also put a bunch of warm towels around my head (I was still shaking pretty violently) and called me his “babushka,” which is what my Polish grandma used to call me. I heart Dr. Tooma.

So, Dr. Tooma tested my pain level, and by test I mean he asked if I could feel it when my OB began slicing into my abdomen. Thank goodness I couldn’t feel it. Eek. Brett was brought in and seated next to me, a sheet was draped across my chest so that I couldn’t see anything.
Here’s the weird thing about c-sections, the baby is born like right away. I don’t know how long it was, but maybe 5 minutes and out comes baby. Brett was wearing a mask over his mouth and nose, so all I could see were his eyes. When the baby was being pulled out, Dr. Tooma asked if he wanted to watch. Brett stood up to watch and I watched his eyes, but I couldn’t see his mouth. Brett was so emotional that he couldn’t really speak, but I needed confirmation that everything was okay. I needed to see Brett smile or tell me something, but I couldn’t see his mouth and he couldn’t speak. That was the most terrifying moment for me. But soon I heard our baby cry and the doc and nurses said she was beautiful and healthy. Relief.

The NICU docs were standing by because of the vasovagal attack and as a result Brett did not get to cut the cord. That sucked. They checked her out and she received a very high APGAR score. She was fine, she was perfect, she was HERE. The nurses cleaned her up a bit, wrapped her in blankets, put a hat on her and brought her over to me. She was rooting like a champ and I was so desperate to nurse her that I could barely stand it. The docs were still working on me, but in all honestly, I couldn’t feel anything and I didn’t even care. I had my baby and all I wanted was to get out of the OR and get her onto my boob.

But they had to sew me up, so Rhonda, Brett and baby went out to the OR recovery room and waited for me. I cried and cried and smiled and cried and listened to the “thwump, thwump” as they stapled my stomach back together. Then they finally wheeled me out to Brett and our baby and there she was. Beautiful.

Rhonda handed her to me and helped me get her latched on to my breast and she immediately went to town, eating that good colostrum up. She was amazing. A real natural.
I was on top of the world. All that crap they say about only vaginal births give you that hormonal high is just that, crap. I was flying and so in love with my baby. The bonding hormones were coursing through my veins and I thought was going to burst with love and happiness. Brett, on the other hands, was not the beneficiary of such hormones and looked completely shell shocked. I don’t blame him.

And there ends part one. Part two will come soon enough, and includes such highlights as the nurses asking Brett to go “deal” with my mom because she was pestering them so much, and the night a very evil nurse told me that I wasn’t capable of feeding my daughter. Oh hospitals, they are so much fun.

PIctures!

2010-02-03T15:09:00.006-06:00

Hey, I had a baby a while ago!

2010-01-29T10:12:00.002-06:00

Oh, HI! Guess what . . . my baby is 10 weeks and 2 days old. How did that happen?

Also, it's a lot of work to have a newborn! So much work that nothing else gets done (including updating one's blog).

Anyway, Magnolia Rose was born November 18, 2009 at a healthy 6 lbs. 12 oz and 20.5 inches. She was born via c-section and mom and babe did well from the get go. The worse part is that I am at work and therefore have no pictures available for posting. Not to fret, they will be incorporated shortly.

Being a mom is completely awesome and ridiculous and heart expanding and heart wrenching and utterly exhausting (especially now that I'm back to work). Let me assure you that this baby is loved and cherished and AMAZING.

Birth story to come one day too . . .

Still ever so pregnant

2009-11-01T18:36:00.002-06:00

And apparently I might stay this way for a while. I got all excited about my dilation and mucus plus (never thought I'd type that statement) and then it turns out that it's totally normal to be all dilated for weeks, and perhaps my mucus was more the result of an internal exam and nothing to get worked up about. Of course, I got worked up.

Then again, whatever, this is my first baby and will allow myself a few transgressions into the world of overly excited.

I still don't really know if what I'm feeling is, or has ever been, a Braxton-Hicks contraction. I suspect that yes, I've had these contractions, but I can't really tell when it's her moving, or when it's a contraction. The past couple of nights though, I've felt some serious tightness all over my uterus and that has got to be the contractions. It think. Christ, this shit is not as easy to identify as I feel it should be.

I have also pretty much outgrown ALL of my maternity clothing. Now my shirts don't quite contain my enormous belly, and I routinely flash a bit of lower abdomen to the poor unsuspecting stranger. I have also made a possibly permanent enemy of pants. I abhor spending any time in pants. The maternity ones just don't stay up for shit, and obviously there are no other options at this time. I spend most of my days in some variation on the yoga pant. In fact, on Friday I actually wore flannel pajama pants to the office, but I disguised them as part of my costume (pregnant lady in her pajamas, obviously) so it was fine. Plus, the were candy corn pajama pants.

Nevertheless, I am epically uncomfortable and I would like to go into labor as close to my due date as possible because I really would like NOT to go back to work before Christmas, I am ready now. In fact, I'm so uncomfortable that Brett and I went out and bought an enormous recliner yesterday. It's so big and poofy that it kind of looks like a Muppet. I love it. I fell asleep in it last night and let me assure you, I don't normally fall asleep easily these days. Plus, it's a rocker recliner, so it will be crazy useful for rocking baby. Yippee.

And now I must go attend to my ice cream. We had a very healthy dinner of a vegetable stir-fry, so I believe ice cream must be had to make up for the lack of fat and cholesterol.

And so it begins

2009-10-29T08:15:00.004-05:00

I know this doesn't mean it's going to happen soon, but as of yesterday I'm 1.5 cm dilated and definitely losing my mucus plug. AHHHHH!!!!!

Okay, will remain calm and return to job at hand, which would be actual job.

Any of you mommies out there dilate at 36 weeks and lose your plug this early too? Tell me your stories in gory detail.

P.S. I just goggled "mucus plug" and you should definitely not do this, because there are pictures. Just saying. Be wary. Also, there are 12,000 ways to spell mucus and I have no idea which way is correct.

Angst

2009-10-22T09:58:00.001-05:00

My dad is on a train right now, venturing down our way for the first time in about two years. We give him a break on this lack of visits because he has “the cancer,” but it is kind of ridiculous that he’s never even been to our house before and he only lives a six hour drive away. Nonetheless, I am excited to see him and spend the weekend with him.

He has been exceptionally great about this whole baby thing. He’s very excited to be a grandpa, but is also very supportive of us. This is opposed to the rest of my family who is making me sort of sad. My sister has given very little indication that she is even aware that I am pregnant. She has no interest in coming up here to see the baby and every time I talk to her it’s like she’s forgotten that I’m pregnant. I thought it might have something to do with my getting pregnant before her (she’s five years my senior) but I kind of don’t think that’s even an issue. I think she just basically doesn’t care. It’s weird because we’re very close. The only thing she seems to care about is dogs, because when our dog was sick a few weeks ago, she called twice a day to check on him, but with humans apparently she cannot be bothered. Gah.

Also, my mother. Oh my mother. She is mostly great about the whole thing, except for the fact that her primary concern is winning the grandparent race to see the child first. No one else is competing but her, mind you. My in-laws are coming on January 1st (at our request) and while my dad is coming down for the birth, he is primarily coming to help us out. My mother is very concerned about where she stands compared to my father and it makes me want to NOT call her when I go into labor. I know that’s cruel, but I cannot deal with people who stress me out when I’m dealing with giving birth.

There are several other things that are completely freaking me out these days:

1. The fucking flu. I’m all vaccinated (even the H1N1, though the stupid nurse started squirting it out of the needle before putting it in my arm, so perhaps I have a useless dosage coursing through my veins? Add that as a stressor too) but still concerned about it and worried that Brett will get it, or somehow the baby will not get any protection from me.

2. Daycare. We’re still waiting to roll off waiting lists and if we don’t get into a place I have no idea what we’ll do. Perhaps I’ll smuggle her into my office and just keep my door shut all day and play music really loud.

3. The dogs and what exactly we will do with them when I go into labor because our hospital is an hour away and it could very easily be Thanksgiving when all of the neighbors and friends will be either out of town or entertaining. I’m hoping we can rely on my dad, but that definitely means that mom will be pissed, but she’s just not very reliable.
Money because we need a new car and we need to pay for daycare (should we get into one) and somehow the thought of being a brand new mommy and the only bread winner is just a tad overwhelming at times.

4. Labor and fears thereof. Pain. Not being able to go natural and disappointing myself and my husband (and having to show up at the freaking birthing class reunion as the only one to get an epidural). I know this should not be a concern, as I should only be concerned for a healthy baby, but I’m being honest in my stupidity.

5. The general worries of not being a good enough mom. I assume this is natural, but every night when I go to sleep and look over the bassinet and think about the fact that soon there will be a tiny infant there who’s life is entirely in our hands makes me feel like the rest of this shit just doesn’t really matter. I just want to do right by our baby.

Baby Names

2009-10-20T09:18:00.002-05:00

I'm on Swistle's baby name blog today! How fun is that!

pumps and nazi's, in that order pretty much

2009-10-19T09:51:00.002-05:00

Hi. Don't have any new pictures for you. Working on it. Our camera is being difficult and I would really like a new one before baby, but I keep bleeding money due to purchase of such as things as breast pumps. For the love, these pumps are expensive. I know, they are well worth it and I finally (after agonizing over it for literally months) pushed the "purchase" button.

I did a lot of research before buying mine, and while everyone sings the praises of the Medela, I did not go with that particular model. Instead, I went with the Ameda because it was recommended by every lactation consultant I've talked too (which would be all of two) and a very normal, nice, big boobed lady in my LLL group. And yes, I've joined the breast feeding nazi's and so far, well I haven't seen anything particularly alarming about their behavior. They've been nothing but helpful and nice and I'm going to rely on them pretty heavily once baby is here and I need help with breastfeeding. Plus, I need some Mama friends, and many of these ladies I can see being friends with.

I also joined another Mama group, which is ridiculous seeing as I haven't even given birth yet, but I'm desperate for friends who are also moms because none of my friends have kids yet. Well, one just had her first 6-weeks ago, but she lives in California, so what good does that do me? Another one just found out she was pregnant, but is not due for 7 more months, so again, what good? I need me some mommy friends. I am stalking moms. I am crazy. If you have a child and live in the general vicinity of Northern Illinois, watch out if you see me at Target or the grocery store, I may come after you.

BELLY!

2009-10-14T08:51:00.006-05:00

Here I am at 28 weeks. Obviously this was six weeks ago, but we haven't taken a picture for a while (mostly because I'm all "NO! PICTURES!"). Also, no make-up and the hair has lost all semblance of a "style" because it grows like a weed and I can't afford weekly hair cuts. Tonight we have to get all fancied up so that Brett can be inducted into an honor's society (I shout "nerd!" because I am jealous as I was never invited into any type of society) so perhaps we will take a picture in our finery (finery means the last remaining dress that fits me and the maternity tights that sported a hole after minutes of wearing but I refuse to buy new ones because it is highway robbery!).

Also, thanks for the book recommendations! Off to the library ASAP. And down with J. Up.

Still pregnant

2009-10-13T15:45:00.002-05:00

I’m just going to jump into this thing as though it hasn’t been several months since I last stopped by. Okay? Okay.

Here I am, six short weeks before my due date. We are (about 98% sure) having a baby girl and in general, this pregnancy has been about as normal as can be. There are no red flags and all is progressing well. As far as we (including the medical folks involved) can tell, this baby is healthy and there is no reason for worry. And yet, I worry, because I am about to be a mom and that is what mom’s do. I love this baby with all my being, and I am so anxious to hold her that it’s practically all I think about or dream about. The first time I hold my baby, the millionth time I hold my baby, I cannot wait.

I am huge. Not overly huge, but certainly huge. I carry this belly around 24 hours a day, and yet when I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror or see a picture Brett has taken of me, I am chronically astounded. I cannot believe how rotund my mid-section is. I am not remotely upset by this; instead I am exceedingly proud of my belly and will miss it. Aside from the fortune of having my new born in my arms, I will miss being pregnant. This is not to say that I am not miserable for a good portion of the day, for I certainly am, but I do enjoy all the thrills of being pregnant and doing this thing that only us womyns can do. It’s exhausting, uncomfortable, sometimes entirely unpleasant, but also it’s pretty awesome. Also, I like being able to bring her wherever I go and am so not thinking about the day I have to return to work and leave her at home. I like taking her with me.

Our goal is a “natural” birth. That is, one with no pain medication and as little intervention as possible. We took the class, Brett has a card in his wallet indicating that he is a “certified coach,” and I am appropriately motivated to DO THIS. However, I have no idea what “this” is going to be like and I just hope that whatever happens, I wind up with a healthy baby and that I too am healthy and that this is enough. I do NOT want this to be about the birth, but about the baby and this family: Baby, Me and Daddy. That’s all that needs to matter.

I just am so anxious for the time to be here, where I am in labor and we are officially on our way to holding our baby. I keep imagining the moment where she emerges and I really think I might die of emotion (and relief). I truly cannot imagine how big this moment is going to be and perhaps I’m over dramatizing, but I kind of don’t think so. This is the single most ridiculously amazing thing that I have ever endeavored to do and I fully believe that it will be emotionally all consuming and I want to have all my faculties about me for this.

Everyone tells me to “sleep now.” Yup, sounds like something you should say to a woman about to give birth, but you know what, this is the most useless piece of advice. Obviously I sleep as much as I can now, but that is already limited by my physical shape. My hips ache all night long, which keeps me up; I have to go to the bathroom, on average, five times a night, which obviously disrupts my sleep; and I still have to go to work and carry on with a life that will not stop for my discomfort. Thus, to all those “friends” of mine with their advice, SHUT IT.

Finally, I am in desperate need of more books to read. Brett requires a lot of study time these days, and due to the smallness of our house and the fact that we had to turn the study into the nursery, I can no longer watch TV much at all for it will disturb his studies (not something that concerns me, I am happy to oblige). However, that means that I now read, a lot. Problem is that I don’t know what to read. So tell me, what are some good books? I recently finished John Krakauer’s newest book (awesome and upsetting) and am now knee deep in the Witches of Eastwick because somehow I managed to have never read anything by John Updike. But, um, what next? Help a pregnant lady out?

entering controversial territory

2009-05-14T15:41:00.000-05:00

I am so very annoyed with a certain book I’m reading right now that I don’t know quite what to do about it. You see, I have always fully intended on receiving an epidural during labor. I still do, but because I like to be over prepared, I signed my husband and I up for birthing classes using the Bradley method. The teacher recommended that I read a book entitle Husband-Coached Childbirth, written by Dr. Bradley himself, who developed the Bradley method way back in the 1940’s.

I fear I have made a mistake investing in this book.

I’m sure that the breathing techniques I will learn, and the coaching techniques that Brett will learn will be helpful, but I can’t quite stomach the premise the dear Dr. Bradley gives us. You see, he begins his book talking about being raised on a farm and witnessing many a farm animal birth and wondering why those births seemed so pleasant and unassisted, where as human births need assistance and seem a lot more painful. He thinks it’s because we are not listening to our animal instinct. I think he should have watched PBS a little bit more.

I, admittedly, have not studied biology since (embarrassingly) high school, but I do know a couple of things: (1) Human babies have enormous heads, way bigger proportionally than any other mammal; and (2) Humans stand upright and therefore our pelvises had to change shape and size as opposed to animals who walk on all fours. These two factors make human childbirth a very different experience than any other animal. A much more difficult experience, in fact. You know where I learned this? Watching Nova, that’s where.

I also happen to know that many a time, cows need help in the birthing process. In fact, my husband was part of a calf birth that required the use of scary looking chains and I’m betting that that poor cow would have preferred the aid of an epidural and was not silently breathing, but instead mooing her pained head off.

All in all: F you Dr. Bradley.

DONUT

2009-05-07T10:38:00.000-05:00

I just ate a donut and it was about the best thing I have ever had in my life. For about a week now, my appetite has increased. I’m a bit nervous about this, because not only do I not want to gain a lot of weight with this pregnancy, but I’m also not supposed to. The doc thinks I’d be fine with the lower end of the weight gain range, and while that’s sort of embarrassing to hear in front of your husband, it’s fine. I mean, if you saw me, which you have, in pictures, you probably wouldn’t say I was obese, but you know, I’ve got some meat on my bones. Also, in case I haven’t brought this up enough already, my boobs are the size of boulders, mountain sized boulers. All in all, I am a sturdy woman and am in no threat of wasting away if I don’t eat a donut.

However, I am hungry. So hungry. What I should do is actually bring healthy snacks to work so that I don’t eat the donut, but that would entail an actual trip to the grocery store, and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s grocery shopping. So boring.

I guess I’ll just make up for it with a very healthy lunch and then cringe when I get on the scale at the doctor’s this evening.

We’re having our 12 week ultrasound/sonogram thing tonight and I’m nervous and excited. So nervous because I am a worrier and I worry that something has gone wrong in the past 3 weeks. There is no reason for my worry, I just like to keep it slowly simmering under the surface. I’m excited because we will hopefully hear a heart beat and get a good glimpse of the baby, which never gets old.

In a few months, when the baby is here, I’ll be so excited that I no longer have to have a wand stuck up my vagina, or gel slathered over my belly in order to look at my baby. That will be nice.

I talked to my uncle last night, the crazy one married to the aunt who was less than congratulatory upon hearing the pregnancy news. Anyway, he lectured me about responsibility and that OUR LIVES WILL CHANGE FOREVER. Why do people do this? As if we don’t know. Oh my God, my eyes are still sore from all the rolling they were forced to do during that conversation. Of course, the man was drinking a gin and tonic during the conversation, which was, no doubt, not his first. I have a special family.

Almost lunch time

2009-05-05T10:59:00.000-05:00

Last night Brett and I went to bed while it was still light outside. Brett wound up with a sinus infection and is on these nasty antibiotics that ravage his insides, and I am simply tired, all the time.

I read about 3 pages of my book and promptly feel asleep. All went according to plan until midnight when my body woke me up with THE WORST GASTROINTESTINAL PAIN OF MY LIFE. I was literally moaning in agony. I was also very worried because it felt a lot like cramps, which you know, aren’t a good thing to feel when you’re 11 weeks pregnant. I was a little bit freaking out, which I am wont to do, and in my midnight stupor, I sort of didn’t know what to do. Then it occurred to me that perhaps I should go to the bathroom. That’s when things really got interesting, and painful, and luckily it was all over in about 20 minutes. But oh my God, that was painful and awful and I can’t think of what I ate that would cause that level of distress because my entire diet consists of starch, apples and a few slices of Jarlsburg cheese for protein. Seriously, that’s it. I have the world’s worst diet right now.

The only thing I can think is that one of the perks of pregnancy is chronic constipation, and maybe my body just got so sick of being backed up that it orchestrated a very dramatic exit strategy. I don’t know. I’ll ask the doc on Thursday when we have our 12 week appointment. According to Dr. Google, it’s normal and fine and the baby was not harmed in the event, but mama sure was!

In other news, I want to make out with our new fence. A crew of four very skilled, very non-English speaking men spent all Friday putting our fancy new fence up. They did one hell of a job. I love it. It really highlights the fact that the rest of the yard is in poor shape, but at least we’re on our way to making it pretty. We basically spent the entire weekend shopping for the yard and plotting our strategy for Operation-Out-Do-Thy-Neighbor. We literally spent $200 on various seeds, sprays and lawn patches. Between our daily garden center sprees and the $3,100 dollar fence, our yard to soon to be worth more than the actual structure of the house. That’s fine, I think Brett would spend every moment outdoors if he could anyway.

Oh and the worst thing, which I had almost pushed out of my mind, is that fact that my car required $617.00 worth of stupid repairs yesterday. Is there anything worse than car repairs? No. In fact, we’ve decided that this is the final repair for the old girl. As much as I hate the idea of a car payment, that $617.00 is about two of them, so I’m sorry, but if anything else goes wrong, it’s good-bye Hyundai that has seen me through 5 states, 7 addresses and my first stab at adult life, and hello to something shiny and new. She just has to make it through the summer. Please!

Today is Okay

2009-05-01T10:51:00.000-05:00

Today I am feeling GOOD. Like really good. A little nauseas, but nothing I can’t handle.

Yesterday was just plain old stupid. Brett was a total sweetheart of course, and after he read my email he offered to drive to my office (an hour away) just to give me a hug. Obviously that would have been ridiculous, but it was nice to hear nonetheless.

In other baby related business (for there is no other now), we have recently begun telling all of our friends about our pregnancy and mostly it’s been all positive. I mean, it has been all positive, but I do have one friend who has been trying to get pregnant for over two years. She and her husband have been seeing a fertility specialist for over a year and she’s had all sorts of procedures, tests, taken numerous medications, and nothing has worked. I was kind of nervous to tell her I was pregnant because, well, if I were her it would be kind of difficult to hear that your friend got pregnant on the first try. This is especially annoying since one of our other good friends is also pregnant and all of her siblings have recently had babies.

I called her the other night and just blurted it out, because I am tactful like that. She was congratulatory, but really didn’t want to hear much about it. I understand. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for her and I really wish she could have some good news. She’s got a great life in general and a career she loves, which is something I don’t have, but not being able to get pregnant must be incredibly frustrating. Especially when everyone around you seems to be knocked up.

It’s funny the way some people react to the news. My aunt, for example, who is a little bit crazy to begin with, had the worst response out of all informees. She has no children of her own and because of this, is particularly invested in the lives of my sister and me. She is also married to a complete wack job. I mean, truly, a man with some problems. Anyway, when I told her she said, “Are you sure you want to do this?” Um, excuse me? Is that not the stupidest response ever? I mean, I’m telling you when I’m 10 weeks pregnant, I think that choice portion of the pregnancy is pretty much over, and also, YES, of course I want to do this you mean cow.

Sorry, I didn’t realize how angry I was about that comment. But truly, why do people say the things they say? Even if you think it’s a bad idea, just be happy for me and leave your judgment for behind my back.

On the lighter side, I am recently obsessed with, of all things, Toaster Strudels. I crave them in the morning, and I try not to have them every day because they’re, you know, bad for you. However, the idea of a healthy breakfast often makes me want to cry. In fact that idea of vegetable in general makes me want to cry. I have had salad twice since becoming pregnant, and both times I’ve gotten sick and puked. I have no issues with fruit, in fact I find apples, strawberries and grapes absolutely delicious, but vegetables are evil. Good thing I can stomach the vitamins.

Have a happy weekend. Brett and I are going on a proper date tonight involving dinner out and a viewing of Hugh Jackman and my secret boyfriend from Friday Night Lights. Yippie!

Feelings

2009-04-30T08:43:00.000-05:00

I’m having a rough day today. I spent my hour long commute fighting off tears and now that I’m at the office I’m continuing my reign of crazy. Just to illustrate, there are window washers here and I started crying when they came in to wash the windows in my office because my desk is such a mess that they couldn’t even get to the windows to wash them. These gentlemen didn’t even speak English and couldn’t explain to them why I was upset. I suppose that even if they did speak English it would be difficult to explain the crazy to them.

If only I was showing already so folks would sort of give me a break, maybe.

I don’t even know what’s wrong, except everything. Last night I couldn’t sleep because our dog is on antibiotics and they make his stomach upset and he puked on the bed. Brett got upset and there was some stress and then I was AWAKE with the stress. I am very sensitive to the STRESS of every living being in our house. Apparently Bear now bit open his scab on his rear end wound and bled all over the other blanket that he didn’t puke on. I feel so sorry for him, and also STRESSED because I know it upsets Brett and that makes me anxious. Also, there is only so much laundry a family can tolerate.

I am crazy.

Brett called this morning and we had a chat about aforementioned dog issues and I couldn’t even tell him anything honest, so I had to email him. I had to email my own husband the truth about my STRESS and propensity to cry and not sleep. I just couldn’t do it live and in person because I was afraid that he would just get annoyed with me or exacerbated or just wouldn’t care. My husband is a very kind man, so that would probably not be the response, but this is the anxiety level I’m talking about.

I had to email my own husband with a statement of feelings. What?

Then again, we do sometimes have to write things down, even when I’m not hormonally crazy because we both have a hard time getting our words out sometimes.

I’m just feeling really raw and also swollen as my finger fat is puffing out above my wedding ring and my face is now the size of an overripe pumpkin.

This is why I like reading about babies and watching “A Baby Story” on TLC. It reminds me of why my body is doing this and why my heart is 10 sizes too big and all together too sensitive.

The Dictator

2009-04-29T10:35:00.002-05:00

I know, I've been all sorts of dead to the Internet world for months, and now I'm back with a vengance. But we were keeping this whole baby thing very very quiet, and now we're allowed to talk about it, so I'm alive with the sound of my own typing.

Here's the thing, I love that I'm pregnant. Love it! I have never been more happy about anything in my whole life. However, I am physically miserable. Every day I feel like crap and, I didn't know it was possible, but I hate my body more than ever and I'm not even showing yet. Thus, it is remarkable that I'm still all sunshine and flowers. I must really want this kid.

I have taken to calling the fetus (it's a fetus now, according to "What to Expect") "The Dictator." It dictates things after all, from what I eat to the fact that I now nap on a regular basis, which is completely NOT something I would normally do.

Maybe the name will change over the course of the pregnancy, but right now it's The Dictator.

Brett has been great, though he's been sick with one thing after another himself, so he's not exactly cheerful these days. Poor guy. Also, with both of us not feeling tip-top, the house is looking like a project for that dude on Oprah that clears out clutter. It's bad. However, we did break down and contract a fence installation for the back yard. This was HUGE because Brett prefers to do things himself, but with all the projects we have going on and the fact that we're both struggling, paying for the work seemed the prudent thing to do.

BORING.

The dogs have been exciting in a very unfortunate way. Millie, the little poodle, was diagnosed with and underdeveloped vulva in the summer of 2007. Some lady dogs have this problem, and it causes incontinence when she sleeps. We had it under control with daily estrogen supplements, until we went to Texas in March and boarded the dogs at the vet. Ever since then she's had almost nightly accidents. We took her back to the vet and they did an exam and x-ray and found nothing. We've basically decided that it's like some sort of PTSD as a result of us leaving her. She is nothing if not incredibly sensitive and very very attached to her humans. Thus, we are trying to cure her of it like it's a behavioral problem and not a physical problem, because apparently that's what it is. She now has to wear this little denim diaper to bed, and when I get up to pee for the fourth time in a single night I will take her outside. So far so good, but odds are that just by writing this I am jinxing us.

Bear, our pomeranian, was not to be outdone. Last Thursday, I was at the office when Brett called to indicate that Bear had "a problem." I was about to leave early because I had come down with a cold and on top of the nausea it was just too much to take. When I got home I saw that Bear had a bloody rear end. Cue freak out and call to the vet. They couldn't get him in for a few hours, so I sat with him wrapped in a towel on the couch. Poor little guy. When the vet finally did get him in they took one look at him and said that he had an abscessed anal gland. Yummy! A week later, he's still on the mend with a very nasty looking butt wound and some high test pain killers and antibiotics.

We love them anyway. It's all good training.

Brett's got exams next week, and eyes so blood shot he looks like he's permanently stoned. I will be very happy when next Thursday comes and he is done with his last exam and we have our final doctor's appointment of the first trimester and hopefully we will hear a strong and healthy heart beat.

The Dictator needs some sort of carbohydrate now. Ta ta.

great with child, pea in the pod, bun in the oven, pregos, what have you . . .

2009-04-28T09:59:00.001-05:00

I am a little over 10 weeks pregnant. It’s pretty much awesome except for the parts that suck, like the nausea, HUGE hurty boobs, needing to pee all the time, and lack of ability to stay awake for more than 2 hours at a time. I’m like a text book case of first trimester symptoms. I’m not complaining at all though, it’s so exciting and I can’t believe that we’ll be parents in a few short months.

The way I found out was kind of stupid. I mean, I took a pee test on March 19th, before work. I get up really really early, like 4:30am early, so when I got a positive result I was a little befuddled. It’s hard to really understand anything at 4:30am, so wrapping my head around a positive pregnancy test was a little much. I left for work without even telling Brett, mostly because I wasn’t convinced that it truly was positive. I mean, the line was definitely there, but it seemed a little “light,” so I was skeptical.

Luckily there is a Walgreens but feet from my office, so once I got to work I bought three more tests. When all of them came up positive, I was mostly convinced and called Brett and told him that I had a positive test. I didn’t tell him I had 4 positive tests, because, you know, that would be crazy. I then called the doc and got an appointment that afternoon.

Brett met me at the doc after work and we had our first ultrasound. I know that’s not normal operating procedure, but I hadn’t had a period since October because of the Lupron treatment, so it was necessary to determine how far along I was. The ultrasound showed a little block dot in a white blob. I was definitely pregnant with something, even if it wasn’t really looking much human yet. They determined I was due on November 24th and sent me off for my blood tests.

About two weeks later I started getting nauseous and so tired. I could nap for three hours in the afternoon, and then still go to bed at 9pm and sleep a full 8 hours. Brett was sort of amazed, but I kept reminding him that I’m growing a person, and that his physical part is over, so he should let me nap.

The nausea has been by far the worst. It’s unrelenting on some days, and then gone on some other days. I thought I was out of the woods last week, as I felt no nausea for about 4 days straight. But then it came back on Saturday night and hasn’t really let up since. I’m just hoping that it goes away by week 13 so that I can enjoy the second trimester.

I haven’t gained any weight yet, thank goodness, because I’m not really supposed to as I’m pretty well padded to begin with. I have gained some girth in the boob area, which is extremely frightening because that’s already where I carry most of my weight to begin with. It’s horrifying actually. I already told Brett that after we’re done with babies, I am immediately getting a reduction. I don’t care about cost. I am so over these things.

We’ve since had two more ultrsounds. The last one actually looked like a baby, which was so awesome. I get all teary every time and we have print outs of the ultrasound pictures on our fridge. It’s so cool. Seriously.

We did watch a Nova episode about the “miracle of birth” or somesuch. I did fine until the part where the lady actually gave birth and they showed it. All I said was, “I am not doing that.” I know, I will do it, but oh my god, why does it have to be so difficult. I mean, I get that my pelvis has to be small in order for me to walk upright, but it seems like nature should have done a little better job of accommodating us womens and our childbirthin’ needs. I’m just glad I live now and live in a first world country. I salute all women who do it the “natural way,” but I will hopefully be receiving drugs and any sort of ameliorative care the hospital wants to offer. I am no hero.

stream of semi-consciousness

2009-02-24T12:47:00.000-06:00

There is too much cancer in my family. That’s all I can say about that. I talk a lot and love to share personal information (too much), but really, mostly I can’t talk about my dad with anyone but my husband and my sister. It’s just too scary to talk about it with anyone else because then you have to contend with their reactions and I’m also all sorts of awkward when people try to give me sympathy. Basically, I am an emotional fuckwit when it comes to this particular situation. I’m on auto-pilot and I haven’t really let my guard down about it yet. I’m dreading the day the guard comes down. Perhaps this weekend, when we’re in Minnesota with my family. However, he’s an emotional fuckwit as well. Apple does not fall far from the tree. Also, he’s the one who taught me that crying is weak and one should not do it. Good lesson dad. Really, I’d rather cry than be all percolating with under-the-surface emotion that is sure to be released at a very inopportune time. I’m looking at rush hour or work-related meeting.

Ugly intro paragraph, that.

There’s a black squirrel in the tree outside my office window, and I’m wondering if it’s naturally black or just so dirty from living in the city that it’s colored black. I remember the pigeons in the Tube in London and how several of them were so dirty, and many were also missing feet from being run over by the subway. That always freaked me out. These poor little amputated British pigeons.

Who’s in an uplifting mood today? (rhetorical, don’t answer that)

I think I would be feeling more upbeat today if I had slept a sufficient amount last night. We didn’t go to be until later than usual because of the never ending bathroom remodel. Brett is remarkable in his abilities, because there is now a shower where there was not but a few days ago. He is a saint for doing the lion’s share of it. I bop in and throw down a little paint, or sweep up some dust on occasion, but mostly it’s his show. He’s a good man. Let that be shouted from the roof tops!

Also, let it be shouted that today is a grand day because it is an excuse to eat something deliciously Cajun, and also listen to our President eloquently tell Congress to stop fucking shit up and get with the program. I love him, he makes swoon a bit. Quite a change from that other guy.

And, have you noticed that the light is different now? It’s spring time light. It stays around longer and seems brighter. Probably because it is. Thanks for the never ending ride, rotation of the planet; you sure keep things interesting and desperate come February. Maybe you could just move a little faster for a while. I’m sure no bad would come of that.

Back to work. Hi ho, hi ho.

Couples Meme . . .

2009-02-19T09:53:00.000-06:00

. . . stolen from Dooce.
What are your middle names? Mine is Marie. His is Alan.

How long have you been together? Three years. It seems like a lot longer though, because we’ve been through A LOT in these past three years.

How long did you know each other before you started dating? No.

Who asked whom out? Um, I’m not sure if I remember, but I think it was more of a “you’ll be in the same place I’ll be, so let’s meet up.” Not all that official really.

How old are each of you? We’re both 31.

Whose siblings do you see the most? Mine, I think. We live far away from his and mine, so really it’s kind of a crap shoot. We’ve actually spent more days with his brother than my sister in the past year, but have seen my sister more frequently. Does that make any sense?

Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple? The usual suspects of money and communication with a soupcon of major life decisions.

Did you go to the same school? Nope. I went to some very Midwestern private schools, and he went to some very Western public schools.

Are you from the same home town? Nope - he’s from Montana, I’m from Minnesota
.
Who is smarter? Depends on the category or subject: In some areas, I am, and in others he is. We’re pretty smart on the whole though, in my not-so-humble opinion.

Who is the most sensitive? ME! For sure. I could win sensitivity battles without even trying. It’s ridiculous.

Where do you eat out most as a couple? We LOVE to eat out and do it more frequently than we should (though we cook at home frequently too, basically we just eat a lot). We typically eat anywhere that’s NOT a chain; the more hole-in-the-wall the better.

Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple? I suppose the Bahamas.

Who has the craziest exes? He does. No contest
.
Who has the worst temper? I’m going to say him, and hope he doesn’t get mad.

Who does the cooking? Both of us, and frequently together. Cooking and eating are pretty much our favorite activities.
Who is the neat-freak? Neither of us. I’m more the clean freak than he is, though, and I’m not all THAT clean, like at all.

Who is more stubborn? Him? Me? I don’t know if either of us are really all that stubborn.

Who hogs the bed? The dogs. Last night he said, “I hope that when we have a kid, the dogs sleep with it.” It’s true, that’s a good reason for us to have one.

Who wakes up earlier? Usually we wake up at the same time, except on the days I go into the office, and then I’m up earlier.

Where was your first date? A rodeo in Billings, Montana.

Who is more jealous? I don’t think either of us is particularly jealous, but if anyone had to be more, it would be me.

How long did it take to get serious? I’d say after our second date. It was pretty much a no-brainer.

Who eats more? He can eat more in one sitting than I can; I could probably put away more in a day.

Who does the laundry? It defaults to me because I wear more clothes.

Who’s better with the computer? He is.

Who drives when you are together? He does. I prefer it that way for a couple of reasons: (1) My commute to the office is long and treacherous, thus anytime not driving is okay with me; (2) He critiques my driving sometimes and that makes me nervous and annoyed.

Too lazy to post on FB and also still skeptical of FB

2009-02-06T09:41:00.001-06:00

25 things about me:
1. In junior high and possibly beyond, I had a major crush on Peter Jennings.
2. I like the word “bailiwick” but am not terribly fond of “nadir.”
3. I have really good ideas when I’m driving.
4. I love recipes and magazines involving recipes and cooking.
5. My husband is a better cook than I am, but I’m a better baker.
6. We are loathe to admit that we are foodies and possibly winos.
7. I’ve had 4 speeding tickets in my life: Two in the same day, and one the first day of my job here in Chicago. Neither of these days do I want to remember in any detail.
8. I am a pretty good driver, really.
9. I used to be a pretty good piano player. I have since forgotten how to play, but I will learn again now that I’ve got a fancy new piano.
10. I can type really really fast.
11. I’m afraid of the dark and things that go bump in the night. Our children will have to check my closet at bedtime.
12. I am also very afraid of snakes and semi-trucks crushing me and/or forcing me off of a bridge. I have some fear issues, clearly.
13. I love dogs.
14. I am ridiculously and painfully sensitive.
15. If I could do it over again, I’d be a nurse.
16. I picked up my love of home-grown humor (i.e. Garrison Keillor) from my father, my appreciation of classical music from my mother, and my love and toleration of weird stuff from my sister. They are all great people.
17. I have never been a good sleeper. Too anxious about everything.
18. I average four cups of coffee a day.
19. We routinely hang out with people our parents’ age. Not on purpose.
20. I routinely talk to myself during the day, and I routinely refer to myself via my maiden name. E.G. “Get it together lastname!” or “left shoe on left foot, lastname!”
21. I’ve become a better person in the past few years.
22. In fact, I’ve become a better person in the past month.
23. I have very good taste in television, but for two digressions, one on MTV and one on TLC.
24. I wish I had thicker, fuller hair. Any product that claims to provide you with same is a liar.
25. I believe I have a charmed life.

2009-01-27T09:23:00.001-06:00

I’m having one of those twitchy days when I’m all worked up about something and everything but all of these things are nothings in reality. I’m just sort of freaked out and over caffeinated about all sorts of stupid shit and it’s really fucking annoying. I’m such a peculiar sort of crazy that it really requires an advanced primer to be sent to all of you just so you have a basic understanding of the underlying elements of my psychosis. It’s just too hard to try to cover in a more succinct format.

One thing stands out is that I cannot for the life of my watch an episode of Oprah without breaking down in tears. Last night we got home from our first dog obedience class (dear God, why is every dog trainer I’ve ever met a lunatic?) and I thought I’d iron some clothes while watching television. So I switched on my DVR’d episode of Oprah, the one about obese teens, and cue the blubbering. It broke my heart and it made me want to have my own session of “I’m angry because . . .” as I too am angry about so many things and would like to voice those things instead of eating brownies and anxiously fretting over rudimentary crap (see above). Oh help me, I love Oprah and I also love my husband because I’m pretty sure he’d listen if I did want to engage in one of those sessions. If only we could schedule it in.

Yes, that’s the worst part of my generalized anxiety. There just isn’t enough time to do all the things that need to get done. Everyone is in this boat, I know, I just feel like I am ill-equipped to deal with all the chaos and stress surrounding our house right now. I fully believe that the state of your house reflects the state of your brain and if you saw our house right now you’d appreciate the gravity of my concerns. Shit is a mess. This is primarily due to the ongoing bathroom remodel, which has been seriously waylaid by Brett’s back injury, but also because we have a tiny house and a lot of crap and it’s winter and thus we are SHUT IN the tiny house of disorganization. It’s making us crazy.

I cannot wait for spring. I’ve never felt so desperate for warm weather in my life.

of sneezes and hormones

2009-01-16T12:08:00.002-06:00

I feel like shit today because I do believe I caught a cold from Brett. So now both of us feel like shit and unfortunately the dogs are incapable of doing things like grocery shopping and snow shoveling. According to my favorite weather man, Tom Skilling, we will be inundated with another few inches of snow tomorrow. Mother fucker.

I did go to the GYN yesterday and he was encouraged that I have about a 75% chance of being pregnant in the next few months. This is good. He also thought that if my cycle doesn't return (it went away because of the Lupron) by April 15th, he'll start me on Clomid. Anybody ever taken this drug? I'm curious if there are any fun side-effect to this one, becuase I so enjoyed the side-effects from Lupron (sarcasm there).

In other news, my jeans are looser today. I'm happy about this but think it may be do to the hormone changes (coming off of Lupron) and not anything I'm doing. We haven't worked out since last year. Granted last year was only two weeks ago, but still. I don't think I'll be working out until next week given my sudden onset sickness. Once again, mother fucker. All the good intentions I have about health and fitness tend to get over shadowed by LIFE. Stupid annoying LIFE. If I can't keep up with it now, I don't know how I'll deal when there's a little one, but we'll work on that when and if it happens.

I also already started doing my taxes, which means two things: (1) I'm a nerd; and (2) mama needs a new pair of everything.

The best nurses in the world . . .

2009-01-14T13:12:00.003-06:00

. . . have fur.

Easier (and better, way better) than a bread machine

2009-01-14T10:32:00.002-06:00

Hi.

It's snowing AGAIN. Normally, I wouldn't care, but here's the reason why this is not a normal snow: I HAVE TO SHOVEL IT. Brett is laid up with a lumbar strain, which sucks for him, and for me because he cannot do the normal things he does, which include shoveling. The kicker is that I already have a bad back thanks to a little something called spondylolisis (say that five times fast), which means that when I shovel it's so incredibly half-assed that it's barely worth doing. But if I don't shovel, then the dogs start peeing on the drive-way or side-walk or deck because they don't know the difference between a snow covered deck and a snow covered yard, but I do. Thus, I will half-assedly shovel some snow. . . later.

Now I will post a bread recipe that has a devout following in our house. I found it a book that Swistle recommended called The Tightwad Gazette. So here it is, and it's very easy and quite delicious and I will never buy store bread again . . .

5-6 cups all-purpose flour (you can substitute whole-wheat flour for 1 to 2 cups)
2 tablespoons dry yeast
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon salt
2 cups hot water
1 tablespoon sesame or poppy seeds

Mix 4 cups of the flour with the yeast, sugar and salt. Pour in hot water and beat 100 strokes, or 3 minutes with a mixer. Stir in the remaining flour until the dough is no longer sticky. Knead 8 minutes (I use the dough hook on my Kitchen Aid mixer and just let that roll around for about 8 minutes and it turns out fine). Place the dough in a greased bowl, and cover with a damp towel. Let rise 15 minutes (I have found that the rising time is more like an hour, but our house is incredibly dry, so the time may vary). Punch down (good fun). Divide into 2 pieces. Shape into 2 round loaves and place on a baking sheet. Cut an X 1/2 inch deep on top with a sharp knife. Brush with water and sprinkle with seeds. Place on the middle shelf of a cold oven. Place a cake pan of hot water on the lowest shelf. Heta the oven to 400 degrees. Bake 40-50 minutes until deep golden brown. YUM.

In other news, I'm going to the gyne tomorrow to discuss getting pregnant. Hopefully he'll reassure me that things will go alright and I should stop reading all the horrible things about Lupron that I find when I randomly google Lupron and pregnancy. God help me, I'm my own worst enemy.

2009-01-12T15:55:00.002-06:00

Just an FYI . . . Brett maybe pulled a muscle or is experiencing some nasty sciatica or radiculopathy from all the luggage handling he did during our vacation, only to be followed by snow shoveling upon our return. At least that's what he hopes it is, and not some bizarre tropical disease he picked up on our sojourn. Unfortunately, he had to go to class today and in an effort to actually make it to class (he could barely stand up last night) he took a very powerful pain killer that was left over from some procedure or another and now he's sick from that. The boy just can't win. Also, how on earth do you get addicted to those nasty pain killers? I have taken a total of 2 in my entire life, and on both occasions I became ferociously ill.

Two Words

2009-01-12T10:38:00.002-06:00

Slim Fast.

Strikes fear into your heart doesn't it? I know. Mine too. Except, it's not that bad really. Mostly becuase I'm not really on a diet, I'm just on a quest to not be so fucking hungry. I figure that if I down a Slim*Fast every now and again, maybe I won't snack so much when I'm at the office. The office has this funny way of making me eat when I shouldn't. I think it's something to do with mundane day to day duties that suck the life out of me and the thought of a Snickers bar is the only that gets me through the day. Anyway, we'll see how it goes.

Also, I quit drinking. Full stop. That should reduce my weekly caloric intake by about a million calories (not quite, but almost. I love my wine). It's okay though, because I'm hoping I'll be pregnant in a little bit and I'm hoping that I will feel better and maybe my boobs will start shrinking (until I get pregnant, at which point I assume they will blot out the sun with their enormity) and maybe I'll sleep better and maybe I'll stop spilling wine all over the neighbors six-year old child (true story). Here's hoping.

Oh, and our vacation was completely lovely. Pictures eventually, maybe from Brett? Although he is suffering from post-vacation cold/immobility due to searing pain in his buttocks, so maybe after that's over (seriously, the poor guy is in a lot of pain and please send him get well thoughts).

Over and out good buddies, for now.

Move over 2008, here comes something better

2008-12-31T11:21:00.002-06:00

Look, there were a lot of wonderful things that happened this past year, but honestly, I'm so freaking glad that it's over. Brett and I were going over all the shit that went down over the course of the last year, and oh my hell, that was a lot of stuff to deal with. I have a tremendous amount of relief knowing that I can file it all away as DONE and NEVER AGAIN. Oh my God, so much relief.

This year I hope to settle down and just enjoy the gifts I have, and not lament the losses or lacks in my life. I have a lot of things to treasure, if only I'd stop concentrating on the "only ifs." I wish you all a Happy New Year.

Bringin' da crazy

2008-12-30T15:02:00.001-06:00

First thing’s first, I totally started up again because Tess did. It’s true. I read her post and thought, man, why aren’t I blogging anymore? Because it’s all about me, all the time, apparently.

Secondly, I’ve had a lot of strange things happening to me lately; strange in the way that they can’t all be coincidences. Someone once told me, or maybe it was in a book (who am I kidding? It was probably in a magazine) that when shit like this happens, it’s just because you started paying attention and noticed things that would normally go unnoticed. The used the example of the number 23. Apparently you tell people that 23 is the most common number, and suddenly people are looking for 23 and noticing it, whereas they normally would not pay any attention. The result is that they see all these 23s and are like, “you’re right, 23 is totally common!” I say that’s very NOT fun and I prefer my logic: It’s magical and mysterious and I am special!

I totally believe in the crazy shit though. I mean, not the really crazy shit (mostly), but I am a firm believer in the unknowable and the special and the universe working in ways that I don’t understand (some may call them “mysterious ways” :). Maybe it’s just a way for me to keep hopeful in times of stress, or happy in times of sadness, but I like it when the universe sort of winks at you and I take comfort in the weirdest of weird things. And believe me when I say I am not a very religious person in the usual meaning of that term. It’s just nice to feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m on the right path even if I mostly feel like I’m flailing down life’s path like a monkey doing cartwheels. I sort of use these “coincidences” as the universe’s little mile-markers and it gives me a sense of peace and trajectory that I mostly lack.

And now we will return to the slightly less insane ramblings of your’s truly . . . except that I have to go now, so that’s all you get.

It's sure been a while

2008-12-30T09:28:00.001-06:00

Hi there. I’m still alive and kicking, just not writing much these days. I got very bored with myself somewhere in there, and just couldn’t conjure enough excitement word wise to hit “publish.” Then I just got too far away from this place and felt silly going back. You know how that is, it’s like when you’re gone from the gym for many weeks and you want to go back, but feel dumb because you don’t want people to ask why you stopped going or notice that you’ve gotten grossly out of shape, etc. Maybe that experience is mine alone.

Anywho, all is well here in Flib land. I still have a job, a home, a husband, and two stinky dogs. The house has undergone some serious changes and thanks to my husband, all have been performed without charge. I’m just around for moral support and clean up crew. It works out just fine. We are currently in the middle of a complete bathroom remodel, including putting in a shower. For some reason, the main bathroom in our house, the one in between all the bedrooms, did not come with a shower. Annoying. So Brett is having a crash course in plumbing. Very exciting.

However, lesson learned in that undertaking a massive construction project days before Christmas is a very very VERY bad idea. (reasonable people, like you, surely know this already)

So, the house, it is a mess, and it will stay that way for another two-weeks because we are off to the Bahamas. We are taking a cruise and I could not be more excited. It will be our first real vacation. Every time we go somewhere (including our “honeymoon,” yes our honeymoon) we have some sort of family along for the ride. We have never done anything alone that lasted more than two nights. It is only appropriate for this is the kick-off for baby making season.

Yup, you read that right. The cruise will be our last hurrah before I get all crazy for the baby. You may be thinking that it’s weird to “schedule” your hopeful conception, except that in may case it’s not, because I’ve been on this hormone that stops ovulation, so it’s actually impossible (mostly) for me to get pregnant before that’s out of my system, and it won’t be out of my system until January 15th (ish), so this cruise is timed perfectly.

This may be my only outlet for discussions of getting pregnant. I don’t really want to discuss it with people I know in the “real world” because, well, I don’t know, I just don’t. Also, Brett may get tired of hearing about my cervical mucous and my basal temperature, so this may be the perfect outlet for me (and cue the loss of all readers). Hopefully, we will have good news, but maybe we won’t and maybe this will be a good place to write about our difficulties. So, I guess that’s the plan here . . . to chronicle this adventure and maybe get some advice and support.

paragraphs

2008-09-04T09:59:00.002-05:00

I’m afraid to admit this in public, but I’m really excited that the football season kicks off tonight. However, I’m confused as to who to root for. On the one hand, it’s hard not to root for Chicago, but I’ve always harbored a soft spot for the Packers. However, now that Favre is gone, am I still a Packer’s fan? I’m not even sure if I’m a Favre fan after the retirement crap he pulled, so I clearly can’t be a Jets fan. I’m a woman without a team. It’s confusing.

I wore a fleece to work today, it was just that chilly. This makes me happy because I am much more a cool weather gal than a hot weather gal. Odds are we’ll have at least one more 90 degree snap before fall actually settles in, but this is a brief glimpse of the pumpkin lattes, honey crisp apples and crunchy leaves yet to come.

I have my iPod on shuffle, but it keeps shuffling to Christmas music at the most inopportune moments, say when my boss stops by for a chat or when the one attorney who is always looking at me suspiciously walks by my office.

I don’t know why one of my colleagues seems suspicious of me, but she totally does. She never looks me in the eye and frequently avoids me in the hallway. This, in turn, makes me go out of my way to interact with her because I want to show her that I’m normal and she does need not be suspicious. I suspect this makes her more suspicious.

We’re going to Texas next weekend for a combination business and pleasure (mostly business, but I suspect there will be some pleasure involved). I love Texas, mainly for the food. And by food I mean the tex-mex shit. The salsa/cheese/meat/tortilla combinations. They know their way around a chili down that way. Unfortunately my sister (who lives there and who we’re staying with) is a vegetarian and a snobby one at that, so who knows if we’ll even get to sample the good stuff.

I’m knee deep in the shit of official name change. I totally abandoned my maiden name and fully embraced Brett’s last name because I like having the same last name and his is a whole lot more anonymous than my maiden name. If you googled my full maiden name you would get me and only me. If you google my new married full name I am a whole host of things, and the actual me does not show up until page 13 or something. It’s fantastic. I love a little anonymity.

Oh, but the name change shit, it SUCKS. I mean really sucks. Changing my name with Social Security was easy – you just have to go to the office with the proper documents. Changing my name with my workplace has been nothing short of horrific, which would be funny if you knew where I worked, which you don’t, which is for the best.

I like calling Brett my “husband.” It feels really good.

Brett will hopefully post some photo documentation of our trip out west on his blog, but for now you only get one other picture of the actual wedding. We haven’t gotten the CD with the digital pictures on it because our photographer is flighty and crazy and maybe not really a photographer at all, but that’s a story for another time.

I like being a married girl

2008-08-28T17:52:00.001-05:00

We’ve actually been back at the real world game for over a week now, but it seems that when you check out of the real world for 2.5 weeks, it takes a bit of work to get back in. Rather annoying actually.

Regardless of the above, our whirl wind wedding/road trip was all together enjoyable. We had all this build up to the wedding, and then it just sort of happened, and nothing went wrong and everyone behaved (except the photographer who was NUTS) and I am so proud of us for being eerily calm during the entire damn thing.

The weather was stupidly perfect and the flowers, oh my god, the flowers were to die for! I loved them. Brett looked dapper in his tux and aside from the fact that the judge (someone who has known me since birth) asked if Play-boy was shooting a spread during the wedding (because apparently he thought my dress looked like a bustier) all went down quite nicely.

The only silly thing I did was forget my line once and I may or may not have sent projectile snot out of my nose and onto my bouquet while my now mother-in-law was singing during the ceremony. What can I say? It was very emotional.

Also, I may be taking my wedding dress out for drinks on a regular basis. You’d be shocked at how many very amiable individuals will see fit to buy you drinks when you’re in a wedding dress. Also, running into other brides, whom you’ve never met before, who also go out for drinks after their wedding is so much fun. It’s like you’re part of this ridiculous little frosted sorority for one night and you are so totally BFFs for about 10 minutes. It’s great. I highly recommend.

We’ll have more pictures of the ceremony once we actually get the proofs from the CRAZY lady a.k.a. photographer. Needless to say, she was about the only pratfall of the whole event, and even that wasn’t so bad.

The road trip out to Montana had a few snafus, mostly involving difficult sister in laws and me catching a nasty cold two days into the tip. I have to pat myself on the back though, because even though I was sneezing-coughing-dripping-stuffed to capacity SICK, I still camped, hiked, rafted, and survived a snake sighting. I am a T-to the R-double O-per .

Pictures to come of that bidness as well. As soon as we find time to do anything but laundry.
To sum it up: I highly recommend getting married. It’s pretty fun and if you marry someone like my husband, it’s even better because the fun doesn’t stop after the wedding.

Legally bound

2008-08-27T10:49:00.002-05:00

We're back, we're married, we're tired. Oi.

My name is Flib and I am addicted to being hungover in inconvenient places

2008-07-23T16:35:00.001-05:00

There is much preparation going on at casa de about-to-wed-in-T-minus-nine-short-days. Last weekend I had to drive to Minnesota for my final dress fitting, and then promptly turn around and drive back to Chicago, stopping off in Madison for a raucous bachelorette party (not so raucous really, but I did have to puke in a bag while trapped in traffic on I-90, and yes I know this is my second indecent puking incident in a single month and I am appropriately humiliated and seeking treatment in the form of leaving the state for 2.5 weeks).

Anyway, hallelujah, my dress fits. I was scared when I had the first fitting because I put it on and it literally fell off. It was zipped up and it fell off. It was, in so many words, way too fucking big. They accused me of losing weight, but I know my body, and I know that I have not lost that much weight. Luckily I found a very skilled seamstress and $500 dollars later, my dress fits. Thank goodness I have a very generous aunt, or I would be wearing a wearing dress with industrial clamps keeping it on my body because I stupidly had not budgeted for that much in alterations. Is nothing cheap when it comes to weddings? Sadly, no.

In all honesty, neither of us are too stressed out about the wedding. If things go wrong, so be it. We are getting married outside and we have no fall-back plan if it rains. I figure, if it rains, we hurry up with the ceremony and take the cake to an empty bar and save the champagne for another day. C’est la vie. (Note: my family does not share this laissez faire attitude with me, I pity them)

In more exciting news, Brett and I biked ourselves silly yesterday, exploring our newly adopted town. We moved to this singularly bucolic town in Northern Illinois, about 60 miles from Chicago. It is adorable, and friendly and filled with charming Victorian homes within walking distance to a town square that offers several delicious non-chain restaurants and cafes, bars with tin ceilings, a jewelry store where we bought our shiny wedding bands, a Ben Franklin and a bakery that serves up pull apart cinnamon bread. It’s kind of awesome, and we can bike there, which makes me extremely happy. We could walk there too, but biking is far more exciting.

We stopped at the bike shop (also in the town square, and also not a chain, which is kind of a mantra for us) and tried to procure some baskets for our bicycles so that we could actually run errands via bike, but, get this, they were SOLD OUT. Yes, there are so many like minded individuals that they could not keep their baskets in stock. This, my friends, is the silver lining on the ever expanding grey cloud of gas price doom. The world, our world, our way of life, is changing. Change is good. Change keeps us from becoming drones and while I have no idea how we will make it if gas keeps climbing, because we live on a budget and it does not allow for $20 gasoline (or even $6 dollar gasoline), I know that good will come out of this. I also know that biking is a whole lot more pleasant than driving. Change is a positive, even if it seems like a negative. It keeps you on your toes and that is always a good thing.

Also a good thing . . . Love is a Mixed Tap by Rob Sheffield. Go get this book and read it STAT. It is wonderful and I cried myself stupid and resisted the urge to call Brett (I read it this weekend while I was running around the Midwest puking in JC Penney bags and he was at home painting bedrooms) and tell him all the reason I loved him and what I would put on a mixed tape to express our love. Avoid doing that to your loved one, but nevertheless, it’s more wonderful than I can say.

What’s not so wonderful is the fact that our cable package does not offer Bravo in its line-up. This is a travesty for me because I am currently missing Project Runway. I set it to record on the DVR, but then when I played it back the TV mocked me with a “press info button for subscription information.” Fuck you cable company. I knew the deal you were giving me was too good to be true.

Check out Brett’s blog for info on his birthday surprise trip with bonus picture of us in kayaks. Awesome.

white knuckles and birthday surprises

2008-07-11T09:38:00.000-05:00

Last night’s drive home was exciting in a heart-pounding-please-don’t-let-this-be-the-end kind of way. I left my office at about 7:20pm, and Brett called me soon thereafter to inform me that a storm was pushing its way eastward, through the corn fields and into Chicago. “Eh,” I thought. “I’ll make it home before it hits.”

Then I saw in the western sky, an enormous black line of clouds, like a big space ship covering up the entirety of Northern Illinois. Seriously, it was like those space ships in Independence Day, just hovering over the farmland. Creepy.

I, of course, was headed west, directly into the impending storm, and I noted that perhaps this was not going to be as “eh” as I had thought.

Fifteen minutes later, me and my car are engulfed in the space ship like storm cloud, and the rain began to pelt my tired little car with it’s less than terrific tires. Shit. The hydroplaning began, and I held on for dear life as it became obvious that my gas peddle was doing nothing more than offering me a place to rest my foot. Seriously, I was convinced I was going to be washed away, never to be seen again.

That last mile of interstate before my exit was nothing short of terrifying. I wish I could have just pulled over, but I could barely see out the windshield for the driving rain, and I was pretty sure no one else could either. I didn’t feel like getting squashed by a semi-truck as I waited out the storm.

Basically, it sucked. End of story.

In non-terrifying news, Brett’s birthday is Tuesday. I am taking him on a surprise trip. He has an “idea” of where we’re going, but whether his “idea” is accurate has not been confirmed. I’m not telling him anything, and I considered blindfolding him for the entirety of the drive, but then I reconsidered it as I certainly don’t want to be mistaken for a kidnapper.

The only hints I gave Brett were that it was within driving distance, he need not bring any dress clothes, and he would need multiple bathing suits. So, any of you familiar with our part of the Midwest, where do you think we’re going???

approaching time warp

2008-07-10T17:39:00.003-05:00

It’s storming outside at 5:16pm on this Thursday afternoon. I’m in my office, trying to finish work before I go home. I need to stay late so that I can be gone for TWO WHOLE WEEKS(!!!) in August. It’s approaching very soon, but I have a lot to do before we go.

I feel a tad nauseous today. Unfortunately my nausea is due to the bizarre foods I ate in attempt to make up for a failed lunch. I thought we had some sort of office barbeque today, but it’s actually next week, which makes me an idiot. I sauntered out of my office and out to the parking lot, expecting to find a big tent and the smell of grilling meat, but instead I saw cars. Sheepishly I hurried back to my office and re-read the damn memo. Next week.

Then I ate some yogurt, a banana, a handful of crackers and have been sucking on hard candy. I guess that’s not so bad, but I don’t feel very good nonetheless. Plus, I would like to go home now because office = lifeforce sucking machine.

2008-07-09T11:06:00.000-05:00

My friend Shipyard made me do it.

gravity, with pictures!

2008-06-25T11:28:00.008-05:00

Oh man. I can’t even begin to sum up the past few days. It’s been crazy. Just crazy.

We went up to my alma mater for a birthday party and it was one of the longer nights of my life. I elected to have us stay in a quaint little bed and breakfast within walking distance of downtown Appleton, and you know what the worst place to be stupidly drunk at 2:30am is? A quaint bed and breakfast, that’s where. We stumbled in so late, and I do believe I was shoeless. I sincerely hope that we did not disturb the newly weds who were spending their first married night in the room adjacent to us. I have a sneaking suspicion that they would not understand our drunken predicament seeing as they seemed the non-drinking type. Cursed teetotalers.

Adding insult to injury was the emergency stop at a gas station somewhere on the Wisconsin/Illinois border in order for me to puke my guts out on the drive home. I’m so sorry to all patrons of that particular gas station/family diner. I really hope your kids learned an important lesson from my vulgar display of stupidity: NEVER BINGE DRINK OVER THE AGE OF 20 (actually, just don’t binge drink I suppose).

I blame it on Appleton. There is something in the air of that town that makes people drunk. I never get drunk like that unless I’m at a wedding, because I cannot get over the privilege of an open bar and feel like I owe it to the hosts to take full advantage of their generosity. Maybe that’s why my wedding invitation receipts have declined dramatically this year? Nah.

It was stupid and it took fully 2-days to get over that night and thusly I accomplished nothing productive Saturday or Sunday. In fact that only thing I did accomplish was to experience extreme insomnia Saturday night that was virtually intractable. I was worried I would never sleep again. Both Brett and I experienced this phenomenon and we both finally gave up and had sex and that seemed to do the trick. You know you’re in a long term relationship when sex is sometimes a tool for sleep as opposed to a purely pleasure seeking device.

Luckily, it worked, and we finally got to sleep around 5am.

Monday was spent packing, lifting, grunting, sweating and rigging couches to dangle off of second floor balconies until they rested gently on the ground several feet below. My man, he’s some kind of genius. Honestly, without him, the future occupant of that apartment would have a free couch because there was no way that puppy was going out the door. Also, he lowered that couch to the ground all by himself. We have pictures to prove it (note that I am doing nothing but taking pictures, which is really evidence of my uselessness in this moving/home owning thing):

Ear Worm

2008-06-18T10:07:00.002-05:00

The blinds in my office are mysteriously drawn today. I did not draw them, so the question remains, who did? My office is locked when I’m not here (sensitive documents lie within the confines of my confine, so I must lock them up to protect the innocent) so I do believe that the only logical conclusion is that my office is haunted. Either that or my boss (the only other person with a key) came in and closed my blinds and maybe stole some Diet Coke, because that’s missing too. Bosses, they cannot be trusted.

Speaking of a lack of trust, I no longer trust my blog reading abilities. I have slacked off for weeks now and it’s so uncool. I mean, I’ve basically fell off the commenting wagon and it’s not because I don’t want to comment, it’s just that I have so much other shit to do that demands attention no matter how little I want to give attention.

I know, it’s so fascinating to read about how busy someone is. Maybe I should now discuss the fact that Brett and I literally watched pain dry last week, or the ins and outs of mold removal of the upstairs bathroom medicine cabinet? That might be just as interesting. (Seriously, what kind of people rest their wet toothbrushes on a wooden surface, repeatedly, such that black mold develops, and then continue to rest their toothbrushes in the same spot despite the presence of aforementioned black mold? Oh my god, so GROSS!)

I’ll leave the house/yard talk to Brett, because honestly, he’s doing most of it. I clean; that’s about all I do. Brett does the actual work, and then I pick up and cleanse the aftermath. It’s all very gender appropriate and all that shit, but really, I have no knowledge of electrical wiring or wielding of pole saws, so it’s best that I stick to what I do know: bleach and Murphy’s Oil Soap.

We also go to Menards on a daily, sometimes bi-daily basis. You know what? You really can save big money at Menards. (If you live anywhere near a Menards, I apologize for inserting that ear worm into your day) We shopped for a new vent/light/heater for the basement bathroom, and the very same unit was $158 dollars at Lowes, whereas it was $72 at Menards. Shocking.

You see what we’ve become? Home owners.

This weekend, however, we’re off to Appleton, Wisconsin for some debauchery. My best friend from college is turning 30 and her husband is throwing her a surprise party at our former favorite watering hold. I cannot wait to show Brett around my alma mater and possibly start crying at the educational opportunities I wasted by being drunk and possibly stoned and these same opportunities are now afforded to people a full 12 years younger than I. Not fair.

Eight fascinating things

2008-06-12T16:54:00.003-05:00

Katrin tagged me for this meme approximately forever ago, but you know, we went out of town and bought a house and continue to move into said house and then there's work and wedding planning crap and holy hell I'm busy to infinity. But, I never ignore a proper tag, because I love it when I get tagged, especially by someone who lives in Vienna. I mean, how cool is that?!

8 Things:

Eight things I’m passionate about (interpreted to mean 8 things that get me all sorts of riled up in good or bad ways)
1. homeless or abused pets
2. women’s rights
3. driving in or around Chicago
4. people who think their way is the correct way
5. incidental charges on my bank account or my credit cards
6. Things that are too good to be true
7. Food
8. Brett

Eight things I want to do before I die
1. travel to every continent
2. raise a kid
3. retire
4. feel at home somewhere
5. have more friends than time
6. feel good in my own skin
7. have a garden that produces produce
8. regret less

Eight things I say often
1. “I’m certain I’m not sure”
2. “Uff da” (for real, I say it all the time without even knowing it)
3. “Shut up!” (mainly directed towards Brett because he makes fun of me for saying #2)
4. “Oh yaaa” (spoken like a character in “Fargo”)
5. “Tsst!” (directly at our dogs when they bark at the sky, the wind, invisible forces, etc)
6. “I cannot wait to . . .”
7. “I should really . . .” (clue that I’m a huge procrastinator)
8. “If only we had more money. Sigh.”

Eight books I’ve read recently
1. The Year of Pleasures by Elizabeth Berg
2. Fraud by David Rakoff
3. Dave Barry’s Guide to Guys (What? It was 5 cents at a garage sale a few weekends ago)
4. Broken Promises by a former polygamist about her life living in Mexico as a second wife who’s name I cannot remember
5. The Avon catalog
6. Things to do with a law degree (sometimes I consider a career change)
7. The PMS Outlaws (my sister sends me paperback mysteries and mostly they are crap)
8. Getting the Love you want (the dude who wrote it was on Oprah and I do love me some Oprah recommendations)

Eight movies I’ve seen eight times
1. Top Gun
2. Bull Durham
3. Bridget Jones’ Diary
4. Sliding Doors
5. When Harry Met Sally
6. Field of Dreams
7. Austin Powers
8. The Firm

Totally unbiased

2008-05-29T11:26:00.003-05:00

This is funny.

Survey Says: ELOPE

2008-05-28T11:11:00.001-05:00

I’m so stupidly stressed out today. I mean, I guess it’s not really stupid because there are large, enormous, requiring CAPITAL LETTERS things going on in my life, but you know, they’re supposed to be happy things that shouldn’t really stress one out.

First of all, the house. All is well except for the fact that the survey came back and apparently one side of our house is located 1.5 inches from the property line. Well, what am I supposed to do about that? Tear the house down? I know it’s not in violation of the unified planning bullshit that the city has enacted because older homes were grandfathered in, but who the hell are we supposed to do with 1.5 inches. I mean, we need an easement just to walk to our backyard on that side of the house. So not cool and so not sure what we’re going to do about this except I am going to lose sleep for the next two nights. That much is certain.

Second of all, I am having not one but two wedding showers this weekend, which should be cause for smiles and not shallow breaths and hand wringing. But you see, my family brings me nothing but shallow breathing and hand wringing because they make me crazy. My poor sister, who was planning the showers (need two because my dad’s side of the family is not allowed to have anything to do with my mother, so sayeth the ruler of the world a.k.a. my father a.k.a. asshole extraordinaire) and who had to stop planning the showers because her hubby got very sick with the cancer. So, my sister’s mother-in-law stepped up and is throwing one shower for me (she’s wonderful) and then my step-mother is supposedly throwing the other shower for my dad’s side of the family. Super, problem solved right? WRONG. My step-mother is feeling slighted because she is throwing a kitchen themed shower for me, but just found out that the other shower is also kitchen themed and now her shower will be duplicitous. Um, what? Who cares about the shower theme and also, it ain’t my fault that you, dear step-mother, failed to communicate with my sister regarding planning. In fact, my sister told my dad exactly what she was planning and he failed to communicate this with my step-mother who is incapable of communicating directly with us and has to use my dad as an intermediary. Healthy. This wouldn’t be an issue if she and my father would grow up and allow family mingling.

I called them and left a message last night saying that it wasn’t a big deal and it wouldn’t be duplicitous and also, I am not the one they need to yell at. Shockingly, no one called me back.

Do I sound spoiled? Probably. The thing is I didn’t even want a shower for this very reason. I don’t care about the gifts, I just want to get married and serve people cake.

Once again, should have eloped!

non-compete clause

2008-05-27T13:20:00.000-05:00

Too much going on over the weekend to recount in its entirety. Also, not interesting enough, but basically it went something like this: eat, drink, tennis, walk dogs, hit a gazillion garage sales in the hopes of buying a nice used lawn mower, buy useless junk instead, watch the Cubs lose twice in extra innings, see Indiana Jones do it again, consider that Shia LeBouff is the next BIG thing, wonder how to spell “LaBouf??”, comparison shop new lawn mowers, purchase ladder, recognize how very little I know about home maintenance, thank goodness I am not the only owner of house.

And there you go.

Tennis is still much fun and while I got my ass handed to me by my betrothed once over the weekend, it’s okay because I lack any sense of athletics related competitiveness. I’m all sorts of competitive in other realms of my life, but not sports. I would rather have fun than care about the winner. This is also one of the reasons I’ve never succeeded in sports. One has to care about something to truly be good, and I just would rather everyone be happy and fair than win. God, I’m annoying.

I also baked some shit this weekend and my chocolate chip cookies turned out funny. I think part of the problem was that we only had dark brown sugar and I added one too many eggs. They’re good, I mean how can a chocolate chip cookie be bad, but they’re definitely strange in texture. They’re far better when warmed and eaten with ice cream, which, you know, sign me up. Perfecting the recipe will not be something I’m sad to undertake either.

Finally, packing. Oh the many boxes littering our already littered apartment. T-minus three very long days and I can this apartment right out of my hair. Hallelujah.

Now, here’s a question . . . do you and your partner/husband/boyfriend/lover engage in any healthy competition? Is it fun or heated?

Careful, this one is a run-on sentence mine field

2008-05-22T14:30:00.000-05:00

I watch the Idol finally the other night, and wound up fast forwarding through a lot of it because I feared if I didn’t Brett would die. It’s true, there are several shows that I prefer watching when he is not around because he finds them dumb/painful/be-stupiding and I find them utterly addictive (i.e. Idol, The Hills). I enjoy crap T.V. in the same way I enjoy movie theater popcorn – I crave it and then feel sick afterwards. C’est la vie.

Anyhoo, I had taped Idol on the ol’ DVR because Brett and I went to play tennis at about 6:30pm and wouldn’t be back in time for the start. When Idol was over and I switched back to live T.V. we noted that one of the Left Behind series books was made into a movie staring none other than Kirk Cameron. There are several things to digest here, and first and foremost I must admit that I am not a believer in this theory of the end of the world and if I were to describe my religious beliefs they’d hover somewhere around a shrug of the shoulders because I have no idea. I suppose that makes me agnostic and fully a caricature of a Garrison Keillor narrative, but that fits.

So we flipped over to this movie because Brett was raised in a religion that does believe in these things and I am completely fascinated by such beliefs because they are so very dramatic and scary and since when did Kirk Camron stop being Mikey Sever and become a crazy religious guy? We watched about 5 minutes of it and then flipped to the Cubs game, because even though I am fascinated by it, I am also easily turned off by it and also it had the quality of a Lifetime move and that’s just not something any one has more than 5 mintues of patience for (unless it’s staring Meredith Baxter because she’s Alex P. Keaton’s mom and that’s alright with me).

Now, let’s jump back to the fact that Brett and I have taken up tennis, which I casually mentioned above. There are tennis courts at our current apartment complex, and we figured we should take advantage of them while we still pay rent. Of course we had this thought back in August and just last week decided to act on it, but whatever. Tennis rocks and I forgot how very much fun it is.

I played tennis in high school, and while I was technically on the varsity team, it was only because I was stupidly hard working. I had no actual athletic talent, but I put in a whole lot of heart and also I thought that tennis skirts made me look cute. The coach took pity on me and let me on to varsity and I sat on the side lines eating chex mix during most matches. I did look cute though.

I did manage to learn a thing or two and also, sometimes my muscle memory goes into effect and I actually hit the ball with some skill. Most of the time I lob it around like a drunken giraffe, but it’s all good because it’s a work out and I need those.

Brett, on the other hand, has never played tennis and therefore we’re able to play against one another without me getting my ass handed to me (at least for a few more days, until he figures it out and starts whooping me).

But I forgot how complicated the rules of tennis are. I mean you’ve got games, and then sets and then matches. You count in a bizarre way (i.e. love, 15, 30, 40) and then you have to win by at least 2 games and sometimes the line counts and sometimes hitting the net is a fault and sometimes you trip and fall and skin your knee such that skirts and short pants will not be unearthed from the closet for the foreseeable future. Also, I hope my mom still has my tennis skirts from HS because I’m pretty sure Brett would think I looked cute in them. Then again that was (gulp) 12 years ago.

Update

2008-05-07T13:15:00.001-05:00

My brother in law was released from the hospital yesterday. He starts chemo on Friday. I talked to him on the phone for the first time last night. He sounded tired (of course) and was coughing a lot, but he was optimistic and was just hoping to get through a day with a needle being pierced into his chest. Poor guy. I just hope the biopsy comes back indicating that it is a very treatable form of cancer. Actually, I more than hope, I implore the result to be such.

The rest of my life can be summed up thusly: BUSY. Annoyingly so, because a lot of the busy comes from things I’d rather not be doing. My dad and step-mom were here over the weekend and Brett and I finally figured out why it’s no fun to hang out with them . . . it’s pretty much like being on a constant job interview. Sucks.

Happily, our wedding invitations were received with great acclaim. We went about our RSVP cards in a little different way. We set them up like MadLibs (note, we completed these before this past week’s Office episode). I’d give you the verbatim, but I don’t have one with me at the office. Basically, it’s written like a post card you’d get from someone on a trip, only we let the recipients fill in the adjectives and we incorporated our wedding in the wording. It’s pretty fun and they’ve been a big hit with our weirdo families. Fun stuff really.

So far everyone has said yes to attend at least one event, and that means that I better get my act together when it comes to the rest of the planning. I mean, I have to get flowers, cake, wedding rings, a veil, some shoes, blah, blah, blah. If I had $$ I would definitely hire someone to do all of this. Actually, I’ve gone the cheap-o route and just enlisted my family to do it for me. Seriously. My aunt picked out my wedding dress (with my approval), my sister’s mother-in-law (Adam’s mom) is picking out our cake, my other aunt is handling the entire reception and basically all we’ve done is picked out the ceremony location and the invitations. I shouldn’t complain, and yet I do. All I do is hand over a credit card. Still, I can’t wait for the actual day because that will mean two things: 1. we will be married; and 2. this planning crap will be over.

Adam

2008-05-02T14:09:00.003-05:00

My brother-in-law could talk to a wall if necessary. He is the best person to have around during uncomfortable family gatherings, because he will keep the conversation going. He has a form of muscular dystrophy that makes it hard for him to walk and impossible for him to do things like lift heavy objects, and yet he once helped me move out of a 4 story walk-up. He is generous to a fault and will dispense more compliments than anyone's ego has a right to own. He is a good man.

My brother-in-law has been battling some sort of sickness since Christmastime. He's been coughing like crazy, having back aches, and generally feeling really really shitty. They first thought it was a respiratory infection. Then they thought it was pneumonia. Then he had a CT scan yesterday and diagnosed him with lymphoma. My sister and my brother-in-law live down in Texas and he is very sick and will be in the hospital for some time. I told Brett last night that I wished I were the praying type. He told me I could pray if I wanted to. So I am. Please, think positive thoughts for this wonderful man, who is married to the very best sister a girl could have.

procrastination, candy and mornings

2008-05-01T11:41:00.001-05:00

I have things to do, and I don’t want to do them. I’m actually using work as a procrastination tool. That’s pathetic.

The stuff I have to do isn’t even difficult. I have to do things like figure out my insurance policy on the new house, set-up utilities, work out some tax business. Is this difficult? Not particularly, it’s just a pain in the ass, and I’d rather not be bothered. In fact, this is exactly the type of thing I wish I could make a secretary do, but apparently I’m not allowed to make a secretary take care of my personal needs, and also, I trust no one. I’m just going to whine about it until I do it, and then wonder why I work myself up about shit so much.

However, I found a little treasure trove of half-eaten candy bars in one of my desk drawers today. It was a little bit of awesome, because now I have a treat. Now, please don’t be grossed out that I hoard half-eaten candy bars in my desk, it’s not like they’ve been there for years, it’s just that sometimes I’ll get a candy bar and eat half of it, and then throw the rest in my desk so that it’s out of sight and temptation. For some reason, I feel okay eating half a candy bar, but eating a whole one makes me feel the need to run laps around our office building. This makes no sense, because last night I hate an entire Chipotle burrito, followed by a piece of pie and then a margarita. I’m not exactly calorie conscious except when it comes to candy bars. I’m weirder than you can imagine.

Speaking of weird . . . what’s your morning routine? What do you do the same every single morning? Personally, I get into the office, immediately log on to my computer, check both work and personal emails, poor a cup of coffee from my geeky little thermos, and then physically set up the files I’ll be working on that day. It never changes; I do it every day, rain or shine. What about you?

questions on an elevator

2008-04-30T12:05:00.006-05:00

I am sitting here, at my desk, in my office, awaiting the download of a recording of a hearing I will be forced to listen to in approximately 3 days, because this download is taking that long. What in the hell is wrong with computers these days? I know Tessie mentioned that Google was acting squirrelly today, but in my experience, everyday is a slow computer day. Maybe it’s the fact that I work in the public sector (not much money to spend on computers), or maybe it’s the fact that my personal computer is 4 years old, which in computer-years is approximately prehistoric. Anyway, computers waste inordinate amounts of time even before I actually do anything with them. This is why I’ve been avoiding computers unless necessary; say for the general keeping of my job.

Regardless, I am here to say hello and discuss a topic that has very little to do with anything going on in my life right now, except for that fact that I just had a discussion about baby names with a very friendly stranger while riding in the elevator. She was pregnant, and asked me what I (a complete stranger) thought of the name “Victor.” Also, as soon as she asked me this question, I tried to channel my inner Swistle, but I'm just not as good at this as Swistle.

I said that it was a very strong name, and not a very common name, which were two good points. But I also said that there weren’t very many options for nick-names and would she want her child to be called “Vic?” Then I back peddled, because she is a stranger, and I don’t like offending ANYONE. I told her it was a great name, and I loved it and ignore everything I said about the nick-name.

Then I started thinking about the names I have on “reserve” for any offspring that come about in the future. You see, I have always wanted to name a son “Charlie.” I just love that name and think it’s great because it’s old, but new again, and it can be dressed up or dressed down and really, it’s just a solid, sturdy, never-get-sick-of-it name. Then I met the man who would someday father my children, and as it would turn out, he had a horse named Charlie. God damn it. Why? We cannot name a child after a horse, or any former pet, no matter how beloved. Scratch Charlie off the list.

As for girls, well, I love the name “Lydia.” It’s perfect, especially with the middle name I have already chosen, “Rose.” I told Brett that our future daughter will be named “Lydia Rose” and he seemed to be okay with that, although at this point, with children so far out in the future, I could have told him our daughter would be named “Tattoo Begonia” and he would have nodded with acceptance. I’m holding him to it, though, it was a verbal agreement and those are binding in the jurisdiction of our apartment.

time warp

2008-04-24T13:59:00.001-05:00

Hi everybody. I don’t know if I still have readers because, well, I have been neglecting everything related to blogging these past couple of weeks, and the reason is that my entire life is currently devoted to putting together wedding invitations. We are so close to finishing our wedding invitations, and yet still so far away, because, well, they are harder than they were supposed to be. Shocking, I know. I think I maybe told some folks, (maybe this lady) that they were pretty easy and even FUN, but hell no; they are neither easy nor fun. They are more like a shit ton of work, and some one needs to establish a labor union for ill-informed brides who think they can do it themselves.

I must, however, give a huge shout out to my future husband, who has gone above and beyond the call of duty in the invitation realm. I literally could not have done it without him. He is magical and wonderful and SMOOCH!

Also, we bought a house and I waffle between excitement and buyer’s remorse, and I’m pretty sure that’s normal. We don’t close until May 30th and we’ve pretty much decided just to let our apartment fall into complete disgrace until that date, because we just can’t be bothered to pretend we even remotely enjoy living there any more. We are counting the days until we say “ba-bye” to that hole of an over-priced dump. Good riddance.

I think, honestly, that the invitations, emergency wedding planning (Brett and I are huge slackers in this department), working, dealing with the “details” of home buying, watching entire seasons of Friday Night Lights, and sitting in traffic have occupied all of my time for the past 2 weeks. It’s no fun and I sort of cannot wait until September arrives, because at that point we will have moved into our house, gotten married, gone on our “honeymoon” and returned to reality. This time right now, it sort of feels surreal.

Now, to turn it back to you all, because I’m nothing if not concerned that I have not read the 3,000 posts in my feeder, tell me what you typically do on a Friday night? Do you paint the town red? Sit at home and wonder how it is that you used to have enough energy to paint the town red on a Friday night? Enjoy family time? Have a standing movie date? Fall asleep?

We sometimes go out, sometimes stay in, sometimes take a dance class, sometimes run errands . . . We have no “usual” I guess.

Shufflin'

2008-04-09T13:09:00.000-05:00

Hitting the “shuffle” button on one’s iPod is dangerous. By example, I show you what happened at 12:44pm, Wednesday afternoon:

Iggy Pop – Nightclubbing. (Work is the exact opposite of the correct time to listen to this song.)

How High the Moon – Ella Fitzgerald live in Berlin. (Excellent, except now I want a martini. Work place frowns upon midday Martini having.)

Someone to Love – Fountains of Wayne. (This is actually a pretty great pop song and especially great if you’re a late 20’s or early 30’s person who feels something akin to teenage angst.)

Hansel and Gretl, Dream Pantomine – Arthur Fiedler. (WTF? Seriously, where did I procure this and why?)

Universe & U – KT Tunstall. (Who’s a good little iPod? Who? You, that’s right!)

Stop, Look, Listen (To Your Heart) – Marvin Gay and Diana Ross. (I get weirder by the moment, don’t I?)

Gear Jammer – George Thorogood. (Well, this is just embarrassing)

Distractions – Zero 7. (I would be cool if it was 2002 and my name was Zac Braff.)

Fuzzy – Grant Lee Buffalo. (I’ve never heard of him either.)

Pose – Justin Timberlake. (Don’t be a hater, JT is sexy and you know it!)

Love Me Like a Song – Kimmie Rhodes and Willie Nelson. (This is a great love song)

Come on Closer - Jem. (Suddenly I remember why I cried when The O.C. went off the air.)

Conquest – The White Stripes. (This song makes me want to do a couple of things: Work-out; dance the tango; and bull fight -- clearly, a remarkable song.)

Out of Exile – Audioslave. (Chris Cornell, how I love thee!)

Slim Shady – Eminem. (Oh shit, ALERT! Turn volume down. NSF! I might as well look up porn while I’m at it.)

That song from the Office Space soundtrack when they beat up the fax machine. (Awesome!)

It's hard to be me: version 3,000,048 UPDATED

2008-04-09T09:12:00.002-05:00

***UPDATE****
The seller's countered again, which is kind of a relief really, becuase now Brett and I can go back out there and take another look and see if there is a sign or some sort of gut feeling that this house is either the one or not the one. It's really so difficult to say, because I really like the house and the neighborhood, but it's the garage. The garage sucks and I'm not sure there's a way to help it. Stay tunned, we'll know tomorrow.

I’m all nervous today because I’m waiting to here if an offer was accepted on a house that we maybe want to buy, but maybe don’t want to buy. This is so ridiculous. We looked at a house on Monday and we liked it, we really liked it, but of course, it was not perfect. We know that we will never find the “perfect” house, because there is no perfect house in our price-range, so basically we’re looking for a house with the least amount of compromise. The house we looked at on Monday had some really great things about it. It had a big yard that was fenced, it was in a good neighborhood, and it had potential. Unfortunately, it also had a smaller garage, and the garage is very important. But, it did have a big basement and that sort of makes up for a smaller garage, sort of. So, we made an offer.

They countered, but not really, because they stayed at their asking price, but conceded closing costs. Gee, thanks!

We countered, and then they countered again, and then we countered and now here we sit. Waiting. We’re hoping that they don’t take the offer, because I think we’d like another go at this negotiation crap. And when I say we’d like another go, I mean Brett would like another go, because next time, I’m deferring to him. I know that sounds lame, but I just don’t like it and I get too nervous and anxious and I really would just prefer to take second chair on this.

I know, I’m a lawyer, but I’m a more behind the scenes, in the books kind of lawyer, not a negotiator. I’m the one who researches and puts together the papers, not the one who goes to the mattresses. Fuck, I’m way too prone to FREAKING OUT to be any good under pressure.

Also, I’m kind of a rash decision maker. When I was little, I was so shy and lacked confidence to a very unhealthy degree, that I never voiced my opinion or felt comfortable making a decision. I have grown up, and unfortunately, I now overcompensate for my earlier life by making decision too quickly and without enough thought. It’s like I see a decision that needs to be made, and I’m still sort of afraid of it, so I just jump in full bore and get it over with. This is a good tactic for certain fears, but not decision making. I need to step-away from the decisions for a bit and learn how to tackle them with intelligence, not just brut force.

So anyway (tangent city!), here we sit, in this weird place where we maybe have a contract on a house that we like, but will actually be happy if they don’t accept the offer and we can walk away. Perverse? Yes. Typical of me? Certainly.

P.S. My future husband should be sainted for his patience and understanding of my inner workings.

Nine Recommendations

2008-04-02T13:28:00.001-05:00

1. Fiber One Cereal Bars. Does your colon need to be blasted? Here’s the trick: Eat a Fiber One cereal bar. Actually, maybe I should instruct you to eat the Fiber One bar directly on the toilet, for it is VERY effective. For some of us, this is a good thing.

2. Betty Crocker “bowls.” They actually taste good and are large enough in serving size to be satisfying, as opposed to your run of the mill frozen box lunch (I’m looking at you Lean Cuisine)

3. Revisit your college CD collection. Party like it’s 1999!

4. Friday Night Lights. The T.V. Show, now on DVD. Addictive.

5. Crawl out of the social isolation hole you’ve been living in and call EVERYONE in your phone book, one by one, night after night, until you’ve reconnected with pals, friends, family and super heroes. (I’m only on night two of this adventure, but so far, so good)

6. Jello Jigglers/Knox Blocks. So good, so cheap, so low calorie.

7. Avon Ideal Shade Smooth Mineral Make-up. Do you like that mineral make-up shit, but dislike shelling out $25 for a tiny jar? Try Avon’s version. It’s just as good at ¼ of the price.

8. Become an expert on something completely random. For example, the mating practices of Canadian Geese.

9. My Morning Jacket, the band, not the apparel.

I'm Back! Now with even more lameness!

2008-04-02T09:29:00.001-05:00

You know what happens when you don’t come to work for almost an entire week? You get 3,000 unread blog posts in your reader and you ignore your own blog completely. It’s kind of awesome to take a wee break, because now it’s like I’m totally rich in slacking off fodder and don’t have to worry that no one will have posted by the time I need a brain break because, like I said, I have 30,000 posts to catch up on. Yippee!

Brett’s parents were in town, and it was kind of awesome. I love them, they love me, we’re a happy family.

Seriously.

The biggest development since I’ve been gone is that I’ve started watching this little show called American Idol. Oh yes, it’s true. Let me assure you, I was hooked by the very fist off pitch note I heard. Here are my thoughts:

The little guy, David Archulettuce or whatever, has an unreal voice, but he’s a little too up-with-people for me. However, I think he will win.

I totally think that the guy from Georgia who mysteriously has a British accent (I’m sure this was explained earlier on, but like I said, I just tuned in) is hot and should win even if he isn’t the most talented. He reminds me of that guy from the long lost sitcom “Wings.” (Yes, my dorkiness has no limits).

That one girl, the Faith Hill wannabe, is crafty, what with the patriotic song bullshit, but she’s BORING and annoying and we would not be friends.

I like the girl from Ireland, but I fear she is to go tonight.

The rest are not memorable enough for me to comment upon.

I adore Dolly Parton.

What are your predictions for tonight?

Did I really just write an entire post on AI? Did I really just call it “AI?”

The Bracket Racket

2008-03-19T13:43:00.001-05:00

Here’s something weird (weirder than normal): I just learned how to spell “Pittsburgh.” Somehow, I have spent 30 years NOT spelling Pittsburgh, because honestly (and by honestly, I mean embarrassingly) I never knew there was an “h” on the end. To all of you who live in Pittsburgh, I’m so sorry.

I was spelling “Pittsburgh” because I was filling out my bracket for the NCAA tournament. Granted, I have no idea what I’m doing because I’ve seen a grand total of 7 minutes of college basketball this year, but nevertheless, I’ve got the March Madness.

You see, Brett and I will be spending this weekend with some folks who care about such things, and who are having us over expressly for the purpose of drinking beer and watching basketball and I refuse to take the roll of resident Clueless Girl. I plan to be invested.

This should be easy as long as my alma mater wins. Go Warriors (yes, I know they’re the Golden Eagles now, but that’s stupid). Beyond Marquette, I don’t have the foggiest notion of who’s who and why I should advance one team over another. I mean, there are some gimmes, like the fact that I will NOT advance Oral Roberts University on principle and I can’t advance Austin Peay because, quite frankly, I don’t even know how to say that second word. As for the other teams, HELP! Are any of you filling out bracket nonsense? Who do you like? Instruct me!

P.S. There’s a reason I procrastinate; I work well under pressure.

Sunset

2008-03-19T09:16:00.003-05:00

I'm lacking in a proper "work ethic" so I put off today what can be done tomorrow, and now it's tomorrow and I'm all sorts of fucked, so let's all look at a purdy picture of a sunset in Judith Gap, Montana (courtesy of this guy) because life is short, and there's a world beyond the office.

bringin' da noise

2008-03-13T17:19:00.000-05:00

Brett and I often discuss the fact that Chicago seems to have very little relation (beside geographical, political, technical) with Illinois. This became even clearer today when I had to call Springfield (the capital) and inquire as to what exact documentation I needed to bring with me to the 10th circle of hell, A.K.A. the DMV, to register my car (yes, I know I’ve lived here 8 months and have yet to switch plates, mind your own bees’ wax). The man who answered had a thick southern drawl and called me “ma’am” repeatedly.

When did I move to the South?

The thing about Illinois is that Chicago is up around the top, the tippity-top, of the state, but Illinois descends deep into the middle of the country, meeting up with such states as Missouri and Kentucky. These states are most decidedly Southern and the fact that Illinois shares a border with said states makes it possibly Southern itself. I mean, I think there’s a Waffle House down there and I swear there was a comedian or some such who claimed that it wasn’t the Mason-Dixon Line that determined North v. South, but the Waffle House Line. (anyone know who said that?)

Illinois seems to be a state that defies classification. It’s got Chicago, which is decidedly Midwestern, but if you go visit Carbondale (southern most tip) you will feel like you’re in Arkansas. I know this because I’ve been to Carbondale and I wondered if we drove too far.

If I lived outside of the Chicago metro area (which I will in very short order, but not by much) I would be pissed that Chicago lead the legislature and ate up most of the money. It would royally piss me off if I had to pay higher taxes so that the “L” could keep running, even though I never used the “L” and would really instead like to have the potholes in the highway fixed, or you know build a NEW highway. It would also piss me off that my Senator, Mr. Obama, took a plane or a helicopter (I don’t remember which) to Springfield because he didn’t want to live anywhere in Illinois but Chicago. Oh, and he used taxpayer funds to do this. (too lazy to verify this, but I heard it was true)

Brett and I are leaving the delineated confines of Chicago for a number of reasons. First of all, it’s easier for me to be far away from the office than for him to be far away from school (what with the working from home bidness), and second of all, suburbs kind of suck and we can’t afford to have a yard in the city. Do any of you ever watch “What you get for the Money?” Chicago real estate is obscene. It pains me to think of the one room condo we could afford in the city, whereas out in the sticks we can have an estate (not really, but at least a yard).

Also, I feel like the rest of Illinois is the much ignored and over looked younger sibling. The poor thing is working so hard, being such a good little state and no one is paying any attention to it. We’re just eating all the corn it consistently produces and then tossing the husks on the floor for it to pick up. It deserves some attention, and damnit, we’re gonna give it to it. I plan to put the “noise” back in Illinois[e].

This is what passes for a post around here

2008-03-12T14:04:00.000-05:00

This buying a house shit is ALL CONSUMING. Please forgive me for not doing anything blog related and being silent as a church mouse on your blogs. It’s just that I’m obsessed and I am pretty sure you do NOT want to hear about it. Here’s how it’s going:
look at a house in our price range
determine owners are either blind or crazy
look at a house outside of our price range
feel at home
cue call to lender, promise first born
lather, rinse, repeat.

BORING.

I don’t remember being like this the last time I bought a house. I guess it’s just that last time I actually liked the apartment I was in. Now I feel like our apartment is sucking the life out of my soul every moment I spend in the darn thing. Brett and I have both determined that the apartment is ruining our lives, one popcorn ceiling kernel at a time. (Can you say “built in the 80’s?”)

.

2008-03-05T09:28:00.002-06:00

Well kids, it’s official. I had my first hot flash.

(If you’re playing at home, you should be aware that I’m currently on Lupron treatment for endometriosis. Lupron induces temporary menopause because it basically ceases production of a large quantity of estrogen. It’s also used for fertility treatments, but in my case, it’s for endometriosis.)

So last night, I awoke about 3am absolutely drenched in sweat. To make matters worse, I was trapped under two sleeping dogs, in flannel sheets and flannel pajamas. I kicked myself free of the bed and the dogs (note, I did not kick the dogs, but had to surreptitiously remove my legs from their HOT bodies) and did so with such disgust that I actually woke Brett up. He thought I was having a nightmare, but in reality I was just a firey, hot MESS.

Jesus, this sucks.

Also, I have my period. Apparently, you often have at least one period after starting Lupron. Fine, but this is not my average period. Usually it’s relatively pain free and LIGHT. Not this time. Unfortunately, it first revealed itself while I was at the bank doing my pre-approval crap from the bank lady and I had to excuse myself and race to the bathroom and why do banks not stock tampons or pads or sanitary napkins or whatever the kids are calling them these days? (Yes, I know, many women keep these things in their purses. Whatever) I was forced to go all MacGuyver (*edited to spell MAcGUyger correctly, because I cannot spell TV character names*) on my girl parts and that’s something no woman should ever do.

Also, there is pain; intense, searing, uteral pain and WHY? I think this was exactly the thing the Lupron was supposed to stop, but apparently my endometriosis is making a final stand. What a bitch.

Have you watched this?

2008-03-04T19:24:00.000-06:00

lost and found

2008-03-04T17:34:00.003-06:00

Last night, Brett and I were watching yet another episode of Lost. He asked how many more disks we had of the 3rd season, and when I said we had but 3 more, he was RELIEVED. Yes, relieved, because watching Lost has eaten up a frightening amount of our lives lately. Luckily, I understand that this is a common phenomenon and we are not, in fact, crazy.

However, we are house crazy around here, because we are in the thick of the house hunt and it's kind of awesome. Basically, if Lost isn't on around here, HGTV is. Granted, I have no idea if our house will require remodeling or extreme decorating but who cares? We've already decided that any house we buy will be lovely and delightful because it will be OURS and there will be a yard for our dogs' pooping needs. A yard, what a wonderful concept!

All we know for sure that we need is a fenced yard, a two-car garage or the potential to build one, an electrical system that supports at least 200 amps, 3 bedrooms or the potential to add on, and strangely enough it would be almost preferable to NOT have A/C. You see, we kind of want to retrofit a house to use geothermal heating and cooling. Shockingly enough, it's not that expensive and the benefits are HUGE and you should read about it and then retrofit your house.

I fear I'm going to annoy the shit out of our real estate agent. I'm kind of obsessed with this whole house thing and that means I'm constantly on realtor.com and the MLS website and then I'm constantly sending her houses I like. This means she gets emails from me relatively frequently and we're not exactly million dollar home buyers, so she's probably ruing the day we stumbled into her open-house and convinced her we were sane people, when in reality, one of us most certainly is not.

A day in the life

2008-03-01T11:19:00.001-06:00

What? That title didn’t reel you in like a trout to a delicious dangling worm? Come on, you know you wanna know what we do on a day off.

Just play along okay?!

Yesterday I had the day off and Brett did too and we lazed about in bed (snuggling with dogs, not even touching each other mind you) until almost 9am. That’s LATE.

Finally, we got ourselves out of bed and decided to use the coupons that Caribou Coffee had kindly mailed us (coupons are the only impetus for us doing just about anything) and get ourselves some fancy coffees. I forced Brett to get something other than his usual BLACK coffee, namely a mocha, and I got a latte and we shared a cinnamon roll and poppy seed cake and then we passed out due to a heavy sugar coma. Seriously, don’t try that breakfast at home kids, it won’t turn out well.

We needed a break after that high endurance breakfast, and so I made Brett watch the most recent episode of Project Runway. He is one of eight straight men in the country who will watch this show. I took a poll.

Fully rested, we donned our finest work-our apparel (t-shirt received from signing up for 5K, but not actually running 5K) and walked ourselves over to the gym to torture ourselves. The gym is very small, with two treadmills, two ellipticals, a stair-master and some sort of weight lifting contraption. There was a girl on one of the treadmills, so Brett and I placed ourselves on the ellipticals and turned on the only TV in the joint. I flipped the TV to an episode of “That 70’s Show” because, if you weren’t aware, there is NOTHING on at 11am on Friday.

About 20 minutes into our sweat-fest, an elderly gentleman came into the gym, wearing a too tight – too shear – t-shirt and SWIMMING TRUNKS and proceeded to leap on the stair-master. About this time, the episode of That 70’s Show was ending, but sure enough, another one was starting up just after it. When this information was received by Mr. Swim Trunks he appeared visibly frustrated and maybe infuriated by his station in life. I had no idea that a sitcom could bring on such angst.

Brett and I ended our work-out and I passed along control of the remote to Swim Trunks. Immediately upon receipt of said remote, Swim Trunks changed the channel to the History Channel and some sort of military history program, because who doesn’t want to work out to crashing WWII bombers and I’m sure that programming like that is much more attractive in a group TV watching setting. Sheesh!

Brett and complained about Swim Trunks and wondered why people are so cranky as we walked back to our humble abode. Why are people so ridiculous? Seriously.

We showered and got ready because it was time for me to get a poke in the butt. My Lupron shot people, get your minds out of the gutter, COME ON!

All I have to say about that injection is OUCH.

No symptoms yet, I’ll keep y’all posted.

So . . . here we are at 1:30pm. We’re hungry (sugar safely metabolized) and maybe in need of some wedding rings for upcoming nuptials. What better place to go than a flea market in Aurora (home of Wayne and Garth), Illinois? I hear they have great tacos AND antique jewelry.

I heard wrong.

Admitting defeat, Brett and I decided to go to Walter Payton’s Roundhouse for lunch and a brewsky. But first we drove around Aurora, because WHY NOT?

I had a delicious Italian beef sandwich with giardiniere, which is my very favorite condiment in existence and I wasted 30 years not even knowing of its existence. Shameful.

By this time it was nigh on 3:30pm, and with two-beers in our full bellies, we chose the only course of action left: Finish Season 2 of Lost while digesting and possibly falling asleep (god I love days off!).

Who of you watches Lost? That show is phenomenal and if you do watch it, do NOT tell me what happens in seasons 3 and 4. If you don’t watch Lost, get yourself the first season and try not to be obsessed. I’m just sayin’ that this show will fuck with your head in a GOOD WAY.

So what do a couple of crazy, engaged kids do on a Friday night? Ballroom dance class, of course!

This was our first night of Ballroom II – A.K.A. Awkward, Embarrassing, Frustrating II.

I’ll have to leave you all hanging (wait, you left? Oh well) because ballroom really deserves its own post. It’s insane and I have to figure out how to describe it well enough to do it justice. Maybe Brett can find a way? (hint hint, babe!)

P.S. The “typo” I spoke of in my last post was, “utmost.” I wrote “upmost” instead, and yes, I had spell check. Attention to detail? Not so much.

Job Interview Disaster Stories (because I like to revel in past failures)

2008-02-28T13:58:00.001-06:00

I present to you, two stories about past job interviews. These are almost too embarrassing to share, seriously. They’re not embarrassing in the stain-on-shirt or fly-unzipped kind of way, no they are embarrassing in the are-we-sure-she’s-not-“special”? kind of way.

I interviewed a prestigious real estate law firm during law school. I was interviewing for a position as a summer clerk. This would have given me oodles of experience and would have paid nicely. I made it through the first round of interviews with shining colors. Seriously, they were about to hire me on the spot. But then I made a fatal error. I sent a thank-you note.

“But this is normal protocol!” you say. Yes, but it’s detrimental to actually getting the job when you FORGET TO SIGN THE NOTE. But wait, it gets worse . . .

I went to the second interview and the first thing they did was present me with the damn unsigned note and ask me to explain it. Fuckers. Suffice it to say, I left without an offer, but not without determination to PROVE to them that I wasn’t that flighty.

Unfortunately, in my thank-you note for the second interview, and plea for forgiveness I may have made a serious typo, the likes of which are just too embarrassing to reveal at this time. I spent that summer working at a personal injury firm.

Also in law school, I interviewed for the position of Assistant DA for Waukesha County (just outside of Milwaukee). This time I also got through the first interview with flying colors, because really and truly I am awesome. Awesome at botching every chance I get for a job (except for the one I currently have THANK GOD).

So the second interview comes around, with the actual DA of Waukesha County. Like the Jack McCoy of Milwaukee; the guy who went after Mark Chemura of Packer’s fame, and helped prosecute a famous serial killer. There were only 3 of us vying for the one spot and the final question he asked me was as follows:

(oh dear, I almost can’t bare to write this)

Jack McCoy – “what would you do if you were on your way to trial and the cop who arrested the defendant runs up to you and tells you that he lied?”

Me – “go through with the trial.”

Jack McCoy – “I think we’re done here.”

In my defense, he posed the question in an incredibly confusing way, not nearly as succinct as I recounted it AND do you know how intimidating a DA is? Incredibly. If the dude had asked me my birthday I probably wouldn’t have answered correctly.

Still, I died a thousand deaths in that instant.

All in all, it’s a good thing I didn’t land any of those jobs, but holy shit, that was a poor display of employability.

100 things of note (all about me of course)

2008-02-27T09:01:00.003-06:00

A lot of people hate this "100 things" list, but heck, I've been working on it for a while, jotting down 1 or 2 a day, and why not post it. It's a little window into the rock-star lifestyle I obviously lead. Hang on to your britches, here we go . . .

1. I am perfectly on the cusp between Libra and Scorpio.
2. Sometimes I believe in things like astrology, sometimes I do not.
3. I won “The Average Joe” award in law school for being the EXACT median of our class rank. It is neither good nor bad to be me.
4. I quit caffeine in November of 2007. I do not miss it.
5. I quit smoking in March of 2006. Sometimes I miss it.
6. I am messy and disorganized right now. It stresses me out.
7. I lived in Montana for 3 years. I met my future husband in Montana.
8. I grew up in St. Paul, Minnesota.
9. My mother is an elementary school teacher, my father is a lawyer, my sister and her husband own a business, I mostly feel like the failure of the family even though I’m technically successful. Self-esteem is a bitch.
10. I love my future husband more than I thought I ever would love anyone.
11. I love fancy food and yet sometimes all I really want is Kraft mac and cheese and McNuggets.
12. I drink a lot of beer and wine but don’t really care for hard alcohol.
13. I have two dogs, a poodle and a pomeranian. They are my babies.
14. I have very chubby cheeks, which will always make me look younger than my age.
15. I rarely get carded.
16. I turned 30 last year.
17. I didn’t really care.
18. I take a sleeping pill.
19. I worked in a day care/preschool for 5 years. I am very good with children and have the patience of a saint. If I could pay off my student loans AND eat with the salary of a pre-school teacher, I would have remained there.
20. I love T.V.
21. I have a lot of student loan debt. I doesn’t really bother me because education is worth the price.
22. I have very few regrets.
23. Some days I LOVE Chicago, but mostly prefer the rural life.
24. Brett is a better cook than I will ever be. Sometimes I feel bad that my domestic skills are not better.
25. I wish I could knit, draw and had a whole room to craft around in.
26. I want a piano desperately.
27. I played the flute for 13 years, but have no interest in ever picking it up again.
28. High school sucked.
29. College was a little bit too fun.
30. Law school was the perfect balance.
31. I have lived in the following places: St. Paul, MN; Appleton, WI; Athens, GA; Milwaukee, WI; San Antonio, TX; Madison, WI; Billings, MT; Naperville, IL.
32. My sister is my best girl friend.
33. I have had to break-up with more girlfriends than boyfriends.
34. I used to be fashionable, and then I started living on a budget.
35. This year we will take a real vacation, somewhere that requires passports.
36. I am liberal.
37. I am shy, but mostly people like me.
38. I drive a Hyundai and I love it.
39. I volunteer at an animal shelter.
40. I would love to have a farm where I could take in homless pets.
41. My career takes second priority to most other things in my life
42. I am bored with “stuff.”
43. Smell is my most powerful memory generator.
44. I’ve always felt fat even when I was skinny.
45. I have extreme empathic embarrassment for characters on T.V. and in movies.
46. I love to bake brownies and cookies.
47. I talk to my mom, my sister and my aunt multiple times per week.
48. Otherwise, I hate talking on the phone.
49. I miss being in school.
50. Road trips are so much fun.
51. I have a crush on Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs and would consider changing careers if it meant I could hang out with him.
52. I’m self-conscious about the size of my breasts (they are HUGE)
53. I met James Carville once. I was a dork.
54. I am exasperated by rude people.
55. My favorite month is October. My favorite day is Friday. My favorite time is bedtime.
56. I’m not very good at sleeping.
57. I love Target.
58. My dream housing situation would be a farm in the country AND an apartment in the city. I’d spend 90% of my time at the farm.
59. I wish I could magically get everyone I love to live in the same town.
60. I’d be okay living on a commune with my friends and family.
61. I’m obsessed with remote locations.
62. I love all animals, except snakes. I fear snakes.
63. I still get nervous when the phone rings at my office. I’m always convinced someone will find out I have no idea what I’m doing being a lawyer.
64. I like to have the T.V. on when I’m alone, for “company.”
65. I smile at everyone. Some people get freaked out.
66. I hate the dentist.
67. I wish I had become a nurse or doctor.
68. I went to law school to prove something to my father.
69. I love bar food.
70. I don’t believe in a “God” as most people think of it.
71. My grandma died when I was 11. I still miss her.
72. My future in-laws are very nice.
73. My family is awkward.
74. I don’t like my step-mother or my step-father very much.
75. When I’m super stressed out, I break out in hives. Sexy.
76. I love Christmas music.
77. Football season is my new favorite season.
78. I am extraordinarily lucky for my lot in life.
79. I love peas.
80. I am not terribly fond of broccoli.
81. Politics are tiresome.
82. I’ve never been to Canada.
83. I’ve visited most of Western Europe.
84. I have no desire to go to China.
85. When I’m away from home, I have a lingering fear I’ll never return.
86. I’m scared of ghosts.
87. I bitch and moan about winter, but in many ways I prefer it to summer.
88. I get paid very well to surf the internet and stare out the window.
89. I am always listening to music while I work.
90. I shower at least twice a day.
91. I’m terrible at keeping in touch with people.
92. I feel like I have a blogging “posse” and I love it.
93. I feel like a career is just a necessary step towards retirement.
94. I hate 80’s music.
95. I frequently misplace my hands on my keyboard (i.e. not on the proper QWERTY formation) and spend paragraphs of work typing "sdliermblawk hogwlia hwoeic."
96. I could eat cheese and bread for every meal.
97. I’m secretly scared of being convicted for a crime I didn’t commit. Probably harkens back to my 2.5 minutes of being a public defender.
98. I change socks frequently when I’m at home because I cannot abide a dirty sock.
99. I hate carpet with a passion.
100. I hope that wasn’t too boring.

Sometimes I think doctors just like to fuck with us

2008-02-26T13:48:00.006-06:00

Hey guess what . . . I am voluntarily going into temporary menopause! Yup, you read that correctly. It seems that while my doctor was able to get rid of 50% of the endometriosis, the rest would have been too risky to attend to surgically. So I get to go on a friendly little drug called Lupron. Anyone familiar with this? It's a shot I'll get every 3 months for 6 months, and then I'll go back to normal. Each shot costs . . . wait for it . . . $1500 dollars! It must be made of gold and underbelly fur of Tibetan goats.

The doctor helpfully gave me full color picture of my uterus, fallopian tubes and ovaries. Apparently my fallopian tubes are "beautiful." They looked slimy and pink to me.

So, to ensure future fertility and to get rid of this fucking pain, I will start Lupron as soon as the Japanese manufacturer ships $3,000 worth of the shit to my doctor. I will also go on some other crap to help manage the hot flashes and hair growth. I told my doctor that I refuse to be a sweaty, furry beast on my wedding day. Ridiculous.

On a happy note, no period for 6 months! No birth control pill! No PMS! Hopefully those things will outweigh the possible mustache growth.

and then I became a "bride"

2008-02-26T08:07:00.003-06:00

I bought my wedding dress. I know, I completely changed my mind. Now I'm all fairy princess bride, but it was the weirdest thing . . . I put that dress on at the urging on the bridal consultant lady, and holy crap! I looked purdy. Then I put the veil on (which I swore I would never wear) and everyone started crying, and now I'm wearing a friggin' veil. I love it though, I can't help myself.

Off to the doctor this morning, but I'll have a deeper, less "me" post later, I promise. Also, I have about 20 billion of your delightful posts to catch on, so hopefully I'll be all over the internets later.

This, that and the other

2008-02-21T12:39:00.002-06:00

First of all, some of you guys are writing about American Idol, and I have never once even seen the show. I don't know how that's possible, but it's true. I feel like I need to play catch up, just so I can continue to participate in your blogs.

I tried to link to a picture of my friend the beagle, but the shelter doesn't have a picture of him. I think it's because the dogs are not available for adoption until they are spayed or neutered, and clearly, he has not been. Anyway, here you can see the doggies I'm dealing with and possibly adopt one if you are anywhere near the greater Chicagoland area. (I have favorites, but I'll never tell)

Also, let me say that the first time I toured the shelter, I broke down into tears because of the wee little faces, wagging tails and hollers for love. I thought I'd wind up getting us evicted from our apartment because I would bring home at least 12 dogs. HOWEVER, this place is wonderful, and the dogs receive so much attention and care from the volunteers and the employees, that truly, the animals are only left alone for sleeping hours (and there is a night light for that time too). I'm just glad this place exists and I will give as much time and money as I can so they can help more animals. They are doing wonderful things.

You know how Swistle refers to Target as her boyfriend? Well, Flibberty is to Whole Foods as Swistle is to Target. I heart Whole Foods. I especially heart their pre-made soup bar that involves a delicious little thing they call "lemony lentil soup." Oh how my heart soars as I drive out of my way to get a bowl for lunch. It's lemony deliciousness is second to no other lentil soup in existence (I know this, I've tried every other). I even went so far as to publicly recommend said soup to the lovely Alice in a comment on her blog. But today Whole Foods broke my heart. They replaced Lemony Lentil Soup with Asian Vegetable Soup. It's over WF, do you hear me, over.

I will be gone until Wednesday because I am flying to Minneapolis tomorrow for a long list of things. Originally I was going back to pick up the paper for the wedding invites, order my wedding dress, scope out some post-ceremony party spots, and find a photographer. But then my mom decided to have hip surgery (yesterday, she's doing fine) and my uncle had to go and get prostate cancer and have his prostate removed (going on as I type) and so my weekend will be spent in the hospital. Luckily they're both in the same hospital. I'm so glad we moved back to the midwest for this reason alone; I get to be there.

Last night, I was in bed when Brett got home from class. He came to bed and started talking about one of his classmates who is currently feuding with his wife about bowling. It seems they are both avid bowlers and on seperate league teams. So Brett is telling me about how he told the guy to call him if he needed to get away a bit this weekend and what was my response? "So he's a motivated seller then?" Um . . . HUH? THis is what happens on a fairly frequent basis. I go into this half-asleep thing, where I'm still listening and comprehending what Brett is telling me, but then I respond with something completely unrelated. Usually it's related to something else that is on my mind, in this case the fact that Brett and I are fully in the housing market now. But wow, just WOW.

Typical

2008-02-20T13:16:00.001-06:00

Monday night, while doing my volunteer stint at the nearby no-kill shelter, I was sexually harassed by a beagle.

My job at the shelter consists of taking the dogs out one by one, playing with each of them for as long as whether permits (insert witch’s tit reference here), feeding dogs, scrubbing down each dog’s kennel, changing dog’s bedding, and then taking them out again. With 22 dogs and 4 volunteers, this takes a little over 3 hours and is quite the work-out. For reals. I think that given the snooty, self-absorbed neighborhood of the particular shelter, the owners should advertise for volunteers by stating that it is the ultimate workout and appeal to the superficial nature of some of the folks nearby.

Nevertheless, my favorite part is when I get to play with the pooches and then after they’re all clean and fed, we get to hang out and pet them in their kennels. There was a new beagle, and I stopped into his kennel to hang out, see what was what, and maybe get his opinion on the results of Super Tuesday. All was fine and good, until I got up to leave, and the beagle caught a glimpse of my legs, which must have looked like the sexiest pair of prone standard poodles to him because .5 seconds later he had attached himself to my leg and started in. Troubling.

More troubling was the fact that I had inadvertently locked myself in the kennel with Humpy McBeagle. This was embarrassing. I paused, stunned and concerned because I could not hear any of the other volunteers nearby. Humpy continued with his business with increasing eagerness. Mild panic started building in my gut and worked it’s way up to my vocal cords where it was released as a miniscule “help!” A little bit louder, “Hey, I’ve got a beagle doing pornographic things to my leg, and I’m an idiot and locked myself in his kennel. PLEASE for the love of Eukanuba can you let me out!!!”

Shortly thereafter, a very smug looking 17 year old came over and explained to me how to use the “emergency latch” at the bottom of the kennel door. She rolled her eyes when I laughed and said these things were idiot proof. I have to hate her.

P.S. Humpy is fine; he’s just in need of a conjugal visit. Unfortunately a “conjugal visit” is code for a “snip snip.”

se7en things

2008-02-19T20:38:00.004-06:00

CAQuincy tagged me to do the seven things meme, and THANK GOD because otherwise you people would have gotten some atrocious post about, oh I don't know, the weather?

Anyway, in case you haven't heard,The rules are as follows:
# Link to the person who tagged you
# Post the rules on your blog.
# Share seven random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog.
# Tag seven random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
# Leave a comment on their blogs so that they know they have been tagged.

So here we go . . .

1. When I was a "tween" all my little girlfriends had crushes on various member of NKOTB (if you don't know what that is, you are too young) or Johnny Depp circa 21 Jump Street. Not me though, no, I harbored a secret and intense love for Peter Jennings. Yes, the anchor of the nightly news. It's strange but true.

2. I count things. A lot. My inner-monologue sounds something like the Count from Sesame Street, except with fewer puppets and more knowledge of exactly how many stop light there are between my house and my office. 1 blinky-blinky; 2 blinkey-blinkey; 3 blinkey-blinkey, etc.

3. My mother was an alcoholic and my father a work-aholic. Thus, my mother was incapable of taking care of me, and my father was not around to take care of me. Thank god my parents had enough sense to throw me therapy and encourage me to go far a way for college. Nevertheless, I will always fight with memories of my childhood and lingering emotional damage.

4. I was not allowed to have a Barbie Doll as a kid. My mom thought that it would give me a bad body image. Good logic, except I spent 12 years yearning for a Barbie and the next 18 fighting eating disorders due to poor body image anyway. Good effort though!

5. My mom had an affair with her teaching partner when they were teaching 3rd grade. I was in their class. It was humiliating because of course, EVERYONE found out. (once again, thank goodness my parents loved me enough to know I needed therapy)

6. I danced in the 1992 Super Bowl Half-Time Show. I'm pissed I wasn't on T.V.

7. Bread is my favorite food.

And there ends another thrilling trip down meme-lane. I don't know why the meme gets such a bad rap? I like them, but I'm afraid to ask anyone to do one because everyone else hates them. Thusly, I will only specifically implore Brett to do it. (but if Tessie, Jess, Artemesia, Shauna, Amber, or JMC want to do it, I will be happy to read it!) *** Edited to add that I am a dolt for not remembering that some of you have already done this fine meme, so please forgive me and ignore my request if you have already done this here meme thingy-dingy! Merci.

Office Sweater

2008-02-15T08:16:00.001-06:00

Do you guys have an “office sweater?” You know a sweater that you keep at work and wear almost daily because your office it kept at the temperature of a meat locker? This sweater never goes home and does not actually match anything you own and maybe it’s from the 80’s and is probably hideous. There was an article about office sweaters in the Chicago Tribune last weekend (I can’t find the link, even with my sleuthing skills including googling the terms “office sweater” and “chicago tribune”) and I was shocked because I did not know that everyone had an office sweater. But then I took a walk around my office and I realized that really and truly EVERYONE (even the boys) has an office sweater.

I do. My mom bought it for me in 1994 from The Bibelot in Minneapolis. It’s a BIG grey wool cardigan that is double breasted. You read that correctly, I have a double breasted cardigan. It’s wool, but it’s some kind of fancy wool that is super duper soft and luxurious and it makes me feel so cozy and comfortable at my less than cozy and comfortable office.

What other things do I have that solely live at the office and never see the light of the real world?

An alarm clock circa 1981 that is pointless because no radio broadcasts can penetrate the walls of the armada that I apparently work in.
A plant that is near death, but won’t quite die. It’s sort of in hospice.
A candy jar, with Jolly Ranchers given to me by a former boss at my first lawyerin’ job (yes, I’ve moved them across the country TWICE)
Countless mugs of varying degrees of stupidity. The worst one says, “30 feels great!” that I got for my birthday two years ago (when I was 28).
A coloring book featuring “Great Lawyers” that my mom gave me for Easter last year (she’s awesome in that way).

So, what weirdness do you have in your office (home or out of home)?

2008-02-14T13:14:00.001-06:00

As anticipated, noon rolled around and I was out done.

A Valentine

2008-02-14T09:41:00.005-06:00

In the comments to my last post Brett offered that we each write a post about how we met, post them at the same time, and then see how they differ (I had to post a bit early because of work commitments, but Brett promised not to read this before posting his). I agreed, which in retrospect was kind of stupid because he’s going to out funny me by about a million miles. However, odds are I will out sweet him with a sugary post.

(If you’d like the multi-media version of this post, you should go download the following song (I’d give it to you if I could, but my workplace might not look to kindly on that type of activity, they’re already on the fence about paying me to read everything ever written on the internet): "Break in The Clouds" by the Jayhawks, it’s a perfect pairing with this here entry, much like a box of Franzia with a slab of Spam.

Brett and I officially met on the internets. I had been using one particular dating site (starts with an “m” and ends with an “atch.com”) for a few months, and had gone out with a few fellers. I wasn’t really enjoying it because you know, it’s kind of a pain in the ass and sometimes you think you’re meeting up with Captain America, only to meet the Mayor of Loserville (population: my date). It’s a crap shoot and possibly veering towards fraud on some people’s parts. But then, THEN, I got an email from an individual named “Moon-Uranus” (how mature, no?) on February 11, 2006 (yes, I still have the email, it’s a love letter for the electronic age). So I click on over to his little profile thingy and would do I see but a tag-line that reads, “So a baby seal walks into a club . . . “ and that’s when I knew this guy was different (obviously). Most guys put something like “fun guy looking for cool girl,” or something lame. So I emailed him back.

Thus began a few days of emailing and when I re-read these emails now I cringe because no matter what you do, when you start dating you have to try to look and sound good and OMG it’s painful to read. However, he saw through it and really our emails were surprisingly honest and coherent and witty. Then he said he was coming to Billings with a couple of his buddies from the wind farm, and would I like to meet up at the rodeo? I was already planning to go to the rodeo with the two couples I played fifth wheel to. How was I going to pull this off? You see my friends didn’t know I was meeting folks through the internets (I was embarrassed for absolutely no reason because it turns out two of them had done it too) and so I had to concoct some peculiar story in order to sneak away and go meet Brett at a rodeo. While performing these circus tricks, you’d think I’d sit down and ponder the fact that I was lying to my friends in order to meet a wind farmer from the internet at a rodeo? What? But you know what, aside from the lying part, it was pretty fun.

So the day of the rodeo charged forth and the temperature was about -3,000 with a 75 mile an hour wind. Okay, it wasn’t that bad, but it was about the coldest day I have ever lived through and I’m from Minnesota where cold is our identity. My friends and I arrive at the rodeo and I grab the first of many beers because I was extremely nervous, and apparently an alcoholic. Then I get a call on my cell phone from a number I don’t know because Brett does NOT own a cell phone and is using his buddy’s phone. (who dates on the internet and yet does not own a cell phone?) I told them I’d meet them at a particular place in the arena, and I say THEM because Brett’s buddy was going to come along for the meet up. AWKWARD! So I sneak away from my friends and rendezvous with two men, each dressed in head to toe Carhartt winter weather gear. One of them had a beard that would make Lincoln himself jealous, and that was my man. We met and started chatting and I really wished the “buddy” would go away, but I couldn’t stop staring at Brett’s eyes, because they were quite piercing and well, something about this guy made me all giddy inside.

Brett’s other buddy and his girlfriend joined us and I really don’t remember anything we talked about. Brett and I didn’t really watch the rodeo at all because honestly I’m not exactly a huge rodeo fan to being with, and second of all we were smitten. He was kind of reserved (despite the moderate inebriation) but would laugh at my lame attempts at humor and that will win me over any time. He was also weird and tall and didn’t fit in with the guys he was with, and yet probably fit in pretty much everywhere and no where at the same time. He talked slowly and deliberately, and then giggled like a little girl sometimes because he was nervous.

I took him over to meet my friends, and my friend Erin later told me that she could tell something was up and that this one was “different.” Brett and his buddies were going to a “club” after the rodeo. This is amusing on two levels because (1) Brett is not much of a club go-er; and (2) A club by normal standards does not exist in Billings, but it’s more like a place for wannabe cowboys to go and hit on slutty girls who have a thing for cowboys. Not really my scene, and plus I was not about to run off with these guys that I had just met because that would have been potentially stupid and dangerous (in retrospect this amuses me because these boys are anything but dangerous). So I kissed Brett on the cheek and left with my friends.

I later learned that Brett’s buddies thought I was kind of a bitch for not going out with them. What girl would traipse off with a bunch of wind farmers she just met without her own transportation? Not this girl. As it turns out Brett never made it to the “club” but he can describe that action himself.

You know that feeling when you crush on a guy and there’s that one night that he acts like he’s crushing on you back and you pretty much feel like you could float out of your shoes and possibly explode from the “EEK!” of it all. Yeah, that’s how I felt the next day and that’s why I called him, which I never did (I mean, the day after? That’s like the opposite of what you’re supposed to do). But I called him and left him a message on his answering machine (again, no cell phone) and was not worried for one second that I wouldn’t hear back from him. It was just easy. He called me back later and we talked for 2 hours and he read me a poem he wrote (way less cheesy than it sounds) and I got nervous because this guy was strong and tough and yet sensitive and smart and EEK!!! Did he really exist? Could he exist? It was like my brain manufactured this perfectly peculiar plan for a man for me and somehow executed the plan and here he was.

We called and emailed all week, then he came down to Billings and one of my dogs pooped in front of him, in the living room and I could have died of embarrassment, but he later said he didn’t mind because I had to bend over to clean it up and he got to see my ass. Oh dear.

The first day we went out (which I’ve already mentioned) we went to a Thai restaurant and he ate something he had never had before with gusto. This was HUGE because my biggest turn off is picky eaters. I can’t handle a picky eater, but Brett was willing to try anything and everything and that is honestly one of the things I love most about him. He is zealous to try anything, no matter what it is. This is seriously one of my favorite qualities about him because we can do anything.

We went to see Curious George, and forever I will cry when I hear “Upside Down” by Jack Johnson because that song is us. It’s our first date and a sweet song and it reminds me of sitting next to him at the movie theater and feeling all squirrelly inside and wanting to hold his hand.

That night he kissed me, or I kissed him, and I felt almost sick to my stomach (in a good way) because all that adrenalin I had built up was released and he was so sincere.

We talked every night, and he came down to Billings, and I went up to Judith Gap. Two weeks after we started seeing each other I went on vacation. I was driving down some highway in the middle of Florida with my sister and Brett called and after I got off the phone with him I told my sister that he was it. I was in love with him. When I got home from vacation I went to see Brett and I said, “I love you.” He was lying down at the time and he picked his head up and said “What?” and I repeated it and he said, “I love you too.” And now, two years later, here we are, still saying “I love you” and still meaning it with everything I am. I love you babe, for all your weird, wonderful ways.

pain, smooches and beer

2008-02-13T08:19:00.002-06:00

So I just got yelled at by one of our support staff for not informing anyone of my recent surgery. I just don’t know how to handle things like that in the work place. I mean, it wasn’t like a BIG deal really (especially after reading Sundry’s post on the whole c-section thing) and also do I really want to tell people I was having girl parts surgery to find out why I feel like I have a permanent UTI? No. However, my bosses knew (yes, I have multiple bosses), but maybe they’re under orders not to reveal personal information. Probably. Regardless, it was nice of this individual to tell me that I should have let people know. Sometimes I forget that people are nice in my office.

I am doing better, but it’s too soon to tell if this will get rid of my pain. I had some familiar pains of the bladder variety yesterday, but maybe that’s because I’m still healing. After the surgery, I was too out of it to talk to the doc, so I will find out more when I go in for my post-op appointment next week. But I am relieved that there was something there and I’m not crazy. Also, I want to have babies someday, and taking care of my baby making parts makes me feel good about future fertility.

In other news, it’s our anniversary this weekend. Our first “real” date took place two years ago this weekend. Brett was living 100 miles north of Billings, and came down one Sunday afternoon to go to lunch and a movie. The catch was, my sister was visiting and she chaperoned our first date. Really, it wasn’t as awkward as it sounds. (Edited to add: I normally do not require a chaperone on a date, but my sis was in town and Brett and I had already met at the rodeo and I knew it would be okay. Plus, my sister is like the best sister ever, seriously.) The three of us enjoyed Thai food, followed by a screening of Curious George. I know, but it was wonderful because it was easy and Brett was so handsome and ripped (climbing wind turbines all day, every day will do that to a person). That night, my sister let Brett and I go to a nearby bar and drink a few beers, which then got me over my nerves enough to let Brett kiss me. Our first kiss was in the parking lot of a bar, sitting in my car. Magical huh?

It didn’t matter where it was though. I would kiss him in a trash bin and probably feel all tingly in my toes.

Anyway, this weekend we are going to Milwaukee to celebrate our anniversary and Valentine’s Day and mostly to drink beer. Milwaukee is my favorite town. Seriously, I think it’s vastly underrated. I lived there for 3 years, and loved every minute of it. Then again, what’s not to love? Lots of beer, fried food, a big pretty lake and loads of ethnic charm . . . It’s a hell of a town (expect pictures, lots of them, we just got Photoshop and I think it might be awesome).

Sick Leave

2008-02-11T09:51:00.000-06:00

Last Wednesday I had surgery to look for some cause to my undiagnosable pelvic pain. I had a laparoscopy, a D&C and a LEEP to get rid of some cervical dysplasia. This was an outpatient procedure, so it was a relatively easy as surgery goes. Nevertheless, I was all sorts of nervous as I waited for various docs and nurses to come chat with us and make me give my medical history about 30 times.

I think the worst part about the surgery was the IV. A couple of years ago I went for a routine blood test and the useless phlebotomist could not get my vein and I wound up passting out. Ever since then, I've been incredibly apprehensive about any needles heading for any of my veins. In fact, I think that all of my veins shirk away in fear of approaching needles. Unfortunately, the nurse who put my IV in placed on the inside of my right wrist, meaning that everytime I moved or shook hands with the 20th health care provider, I had to move my IV and cause myself annoying pain. Totally unnecessary.

However, once I was ready to go to the operating room, the nurse anesthetist (why didn't I become one of these? She was awesome!) gave me a dose of something wonderful to make me "relax." Oh I was relaxed alright. I suddenly morphed into some sort of sleezy car salesperson becuase I was giving everyone the head nod and "what's up" as I was wheeled past them on the way to the OR. Jesus, I am a dork.

I have no recollection of anything beyond being moved to the operating table and the nurses putting warm blankets on me becuase the OR might be outside in the 20 below weather, I'm not sure. Next thing I knew, I was groggily waking up and wondering what in the hell was going on, becuase honestly, I totally forgot I was undergoing surgery. It was kind of awesome.

They had to intubate me, so my throat was really sore and I was super thirsty, but my kind doctor gave me fentanyl and a popsicle and life was good again. Brett got to come back with me when I got to "phase 2" of recovery, and was so happy to see his face. The doc went to talk to him while I was in "phase 1" and told him that they had found 2 cysts and endometriosis and they even gave him full color pictures of all of the above. Frightening, but sort of cool. Brett was a trooper and did not puke or run in fear. He's solid, he really is.

The nurses gave me soda and an assortment of cracker and cookies. I was pretty nauseated, so I could barely even drink my soda. I just sat there, with my head hanging down, probably drooling. I asked the nurse if I could try going to the bathroom, and when I stood up something popped in one of my sutures and I started bleeding through my gown. That made me almost pass out, but they laid me back down on the gurney and fixed whatever was wrong. While fixing me up, the nurse told me that when I first woke up I exclaimed, "that shit is awesome!" Oh dear god! I refuse to believe I said that, but I might issue an official apology to all involved for my loathsome dorkiness.

They provided me with mesh underpants, which were basically boy cut and really wouldn't be out of place if they were sold at Victoria's Secret. Seriously, so bizarre. They also gave me massaging socks, which where in and of themselves totally worth the surgery.

After I stabilized, I got to go home, and Brett called all of our families and made me mac and cheese and jello and was the best care giver a girl could ask for. He cleaned and rebandaged my sutures and helped me to the bathroom and went out and got more jello and made tatertot hot dish and let me watch crap like Wife Swap and Millionare Matchmaker. He's wonderful.

Happy Post (to contrast with the gloom and doom of the previous post)

2008-01-31T10:39:00.000-06:00

If you picked dress A, I totally get it. When I first saw dresses A and B, I really liked dress A better, but then I saw them in person, and B is actually quite lovely. Just goes to show you that you should never buy your wedding dress over the internet. Seriously, people do this?

I’m going back up to Minneapolis later this month to actually purchase the dress and make sure it’s the one that I want. I may try a couple of other dresses on, just for comparison, but truly it’s got the look I’m going for (Great Gatsby style outdoor ceremony) and will work well with Brett’s suit. I'm doing this in Minneapolis because my aunt is micromanaging the wedding. It makes her happy, and I like company on these things, so it works out.

Our color theme is huckleberry, because huckleberries are a symbol of Montana, and I love the deep purple color. Thus, our flowers will all be in that color family, and Brett’s suit will be crème. My sister will be my matron of honor, and Brett’s brother will be his best man. That’s it for the wedding party. We are extremely low maintenance about this whole thing. I am making the wedding invites myself (with some help from these folks) and the receptions (there are 4) will be held in the backyards of various family members.

We are getting married at Minnehaha Falls in the pergola (some of you Minnesotans will know this place I hope). Ever since I was a little girl, I loved going to the falls and getting and ice cream cone and occasionally seeing a wedding ceremony going on. I am seriously getting married in the spot of my girlhood dreams. How cheesy.

We are no longer getting married in Montana, mostly due to my dad being sick and the fact that it was simply too hard to plan a wedding so far away and keep it at a managable budget. At first I was disappointed, but honestly I'm going to wind up with the ceremony of my dreams, and I'm so glad that Brett is so flexible and so thankful that he is putting my happiness first. However, we will have a big blow out party for our friends in Red Lodge, Montana, and then a reception at Brett’s parents’ house in Great Falls. It’s going to be a kick ass month of celebration and I cannot wait.

Broken Record

2008-01-31T09:29:00.000-06:00

I’m super depressed today. In fact, I woke up at 4am and turned over to Brett and woke him up to tell him I was sorry for moving here, so sorry. I have nothing but great timing. I mean, who doesn’t want to be awoken by their spouse at 4am to have her start bawling about how sorry she was for taking them away from things they both loved. I suck.

Last night’s badness was compounded by the fact that Millie, our poodle, had an accident on the bed. I awoke at 1:11am (why do I always look at the clock first? I mean, I could be awoken by a raging fire in my bedroom, and I’d still check the clock before I tried to escape out the second floor window) to Brett saying, “Oh fuck!” or something close to that, because Millie had an accident that soaked through our comforter and onto the sheets. So, we had a frantic stripping of the bed, and getting clean sheets on and sleeping under mismatched blankets that were just not as warm as our now pee soaked down comforter. This is not Millie’s fault mind you. She has an under developed vulva, so she is on hormone treatment, but sometimes she still has accidents when she sleeps. She was not happy about the situation either.

So I guess we will be taking a field trip to a Laundromat tonight as a king size down comforter certainly will not fit within the confines or our washing machine.

It is my morning routine to take a shower, then go out to the kitchen, turn on the local news, and make tea and try to get warm and wake up. I tend to watch the local CBS affiliate because their morning anchors were more tolerable than the other choices. However, one of the anchors died in a tragic snowmobile accident just one week ago. For some reason this has upset me more than it ought to. I was watching their coverage of his funeral this morning and I just started sobbing. Why? I didn’t know the guy, but it was just so sad and strange to have this familiar person, who was a daily constant, suddenly and tragically dead.

I’d love to blame my emotional lability on my period or some such, but I think it’s just the constant struggle to keep things together and try so hard to feel at home in a place that still feels unfamiliar. I am feeling extremely guilty for any hardship this move has given Brett (his business to talk about if he so chooses) and I miss our friends.

P.S. It's dress B. Surprisingly sliming and flattering!

Brrr

2008-01-30T10:37:00.001-06:00

I have an obsession with remote locations. It’s strange but true. I spend copious quantities of time researching the Northwest Territories of Canada and wondering what it would be like to live in Barrow, Alaska. Brett and I get excited over information about the research stations in Antarctica. I am moderately obsessed with Lapland in Scandinavia, and desperately want to visit.

Who wouldn't want to make this metropolis home?

I am not an adventurist, and have no desire to engage in extreme survivalist activities, but I am enthralled by daily life in remote areas, especially cold remote areas. I am not talking about leaving society and shacking up in an abandoned cabin in the woods. No, I’m talking about the fully functioning towns that make these harsh climates home. Over 4,000 people live in Barrow and honestly, that’s about as remote as it gets for a “city” in the U.S. How do 4,000 people live where the warmest month of the year averages 46 degrees?

I have no idea why I’m so fascinated, but it’s a constant obsession. I think it would be thoroughly exciting to somehow do something that would let us live somewhere more remote. Maybe this obsession is a reaction to living in a megalopolis, but I have always been fascinated with such places. However, I think I romanticize them. I mean, I routinely fantasize about living a life like Joel Fleishman in Northern Exposure. Unfortunately, that’s T.V. and real life is never quite as “colorful.” However, I have spent time in remote places. In fact, when Brett and I started dating, he lived in a town with fewer than 100 people in it. I enjoyed it. Would I enjoy it forever? Who knows.

When I first moved to Montana, it scared me a bit. I mean, at night, it was just so very dark. And when you traveled the interstate, you could go many many miles without any where to stop and very few other cars. It was intimidating for a city girl. But something changed in me, and I began to feel less threatened by daunting landscapes, and now I’m more threatened by massive populations. It’s amazing how little patience I have for cities now. I love the convenience of a city and the fact that everything you want is right there, but a city life is no longer my dream. I used to imagine having a well appointed high rise condo, or a row house within walking distance to cafes and shops. Now, when I search for real estate, I’m more concerned about acreage and “shop” space for Brett’s tools.

All this talk about cold makes me colder than I already am. It’s a mere 3 degrees in Chicago today, and the wind chill will render you speechless, or possibly dead. Nevertheless, I am invigorated by the cold.

If your name is Brett, read no further

2008-01-29T11:35:00.000-06:00

First things first, Chicago is a kick ass town and there are so many wonderful things about this town and we take advantage of all of them, so don't think we're sitting around with our proverbial thumbs up our proverbial assess, we're not, I promise. This town is more fun than I know what to do with, it's just the stupid shit that I'm bitching about, like taking hours to get home from work and maybe the fact that every city has its share of pompous ass holes. End bitch fest.

Okay, now for the fun stuff. I'm taking a poll:

Theses are the two wedding dresses that I really really like . . . which one do you like? It should be known that I pretty much know which one I'm getting, but I'm just curious what other folks think.

(forgive me for not putting the actual pictures up here, but I'm afraid Brett will see them, I know he won't click on the links because he is a GOOD BOY.)

Dress A: http://www.watters.com/product.php?coll=brides&showid=579

Dress B: http://www.watters.com/product.php?coll=brides&showid=721

And if you don't like either dress, tell me that too, I want to KNOW!!!

Still Here

2008-01-29T10:42:00.000-06:00

Often times, I wake up and expect to be in our house in Billings. Then I open my eyes, and lo and behold, we are in Chicago. Sometimes I try to wish us back to that house in Billings, but I keep opening my eyes and keep seeing Chicago. We've lived here for 7 months now, you'd think this would stop.

It's not that I regret moving here, I don't. It's just that things were so much MORE comfortable in Billings, and I know I'm a broken record, but this town just takes so much MORE effort to exist in. I guess it just doesn't fit with my laziness. Then again, if we had just a few friends, things would feel fine here. That's what it comes down too, I miss having friends.

I keep trying different things to make friends, but I keep failing miserably. Folks just seem to have no interest in my witty banter and self-depricating humor (seriously, I'm much more charming in person, it's true). I think we're just in the wrong part of the town. Folks here are mostly yuppie couples with toddlers. We're mostly not. I think we're just misfits who prefer the company of other misfits who like dive bars and liberal politics. Whatever, we're just weird.

However, I am beginning some volunteer work at a local no-kill shelter, in attempt to become part of the community. Brett and I used to be heavily involved in volunteering in Billings, and it was both super annoying and rather fulfilling. That's the things about volunteering, they use and abuse you, but it's for a good cause, so you can't get mad. The place we volunteered with in Billings LOVED Brett and had him preparing to run for city council and become a big fish in a little pond. Here, we can only be little fishes in a HUGE pond, and maybe that's better. We'll see.

more talk of girl parts (should really rename my blog)

2008-01-25T08:49:00.001-06:00

In general, I think I have a pretty high pain threshold. Most of the time, if I know some sort of pain is coming, I can deal with it. Then I met the cervical biopsy. Hello torture! Dear God, last night was 10 minutes of terrible. I think part of the problem was that Brett was able to view the entire procedure. They kind of trapped him a spot that allowed him to look at nothing but my be-speculumed (spell checker doesn’t like that one) vagina and the fact that they were tearing parts of my cervix out and putting them in little containers. At first he looked fine, but as soon as they “pinched” (that’s what the doc said I’d feel, ha!) the first bit of cervix off, all the color in Brett’s face drained out and I could tell he was horrified. This then horrified me too and I felt like I was going to be sick. Also, I just hate anything dealing with instruments and “pinching” of my internal organs, it freaks me the hell out. (You’re probably all wondering how the hell I’m going to deal with child birth, and frankly, I have no idea, except that I’ll get a baby out of the deal instead of some rating on the cancer potential of my cervix) It’s also just a creepy feeling because I don’t have many nerve endings in my cervix, but I can feel this distant, disturbing pain, and once again FREAKING OUT.

Of course the doctor would never know that I’m freaking out because I was raised to grin and bear it, and maybe there was a discussion about the fucking stimulus package going on whilst my doctor probed down below. Not the time for political discussion, but whatever.

Anyway, I like this doctor, who wants to do the laparoscopy and D&C, and he listened to me express my concerns and listened to me regarding the alternative treatments the other doctor suggested. However, I still don’t know if I should have the surgery. I mean I’d love to rule out any gynecological problems so I could just know that it was my urinary tract, but also, its surgery and that comes with inherent risks and I haven’t had many of the common symptoms of endometriosis (i.e. pain related to cycle, spotting, heavy bleeding, etc.), but my inherent NEED to make sure every base is covered, and every potential problem addressed is making me WANT to have the surgery. The doc thought that it would be a good idea if we weren’t’ planning to have kids for a few years, because if we were planning to get pregos within a year, well conceiving a child would kind of let us know if all things were in working order. BUT if we wait 4 or 5 years (which we probably will) then I may not know and things could get worse, etc. Oh shit, what to do?

Are you all bored yet?

Three parts, all nonsensical

2008-01-24T14:12:00.000-06:00

Pistachio:

My future husband eats a ridiculous number of pistachios per day. Seriously, it’s time for a nut intervention (he even puts frosting on them). Last night he came home from class and reported to me, in a proud manner, as though he had accomplished something worthy of praise, that he had not had a single pistachio that day. I think this new found love of pistachios is due to the fact that there is very little snack food left in our house and this is the closest approximation. Also, there seems to have been a bumper crop of pistachios this year as they are constantly on sale. Good thing too.

Nanny 911:

Do you know what my new favorite television show is? I’ll tell you. It’s Nanny 911. I know, it’s been on for years, but I’ve only just recently started watching it every week because Brett goes to class at night, which allows me to watch all sorts of crap on T.V. (I’m talking to you Real Housewives of Orange County, The Hills, Intervention, any an all iterations of Law & Order). Last night’s episode was about a single father, who was given full custody of his two boys. This father had been abused (so I assume, based on statements like, “my childhood was a living hell,” etc.) and was now raising his children with basically no discipline. It killed me. I was crying, and felt so bad for this little family. I thought Jo, the nanny, did a really great job of helping them, and so help me if I don’t think this craptastic reality television show isn’t actually doing some kind of public service for parents out there. I love Nanny 911. There I said it.

The “TMI” portion of today’s post:

So tonight I have to have a colposcopy because my pap smear came back with funky cells on it for the second time in a row. I’m not all too worried about this, because I understand that many women have this happen, but I am wondering if all of this isn’t somehow related to my undiagnosable pain (it’s probably not). Occasionally I get myself all worked up and worried that I have cancer and that it’s gone so far as to cause pain in my pelvis and I’ll have to have radiation, which will make me infertile and then I’ll just have to quit my job and run off to help babies in African orphanages because my life will be worth nothing if I can’t reproduce. Yes, these are the thoughts that run through my head. And yes, I am crazy.

I’m making Brett come with for this little adventure, because I need to have a bit of a heart to heart with my doctor, and two ears are better than one and also he can stop me the next time I say, “I have cancer,” and remind me that the doctor actually said I would be fine. Also, why shouldn’t he see me in stirrups with a speculum inserted? That won’t scare him away from every having sex with me again or anything.

Oh dear

2008-01-23T11:31:00.000-06:00

Oh dear. It seems people are coming to my little blog looking for answers about all sorts of things from how to find a wedding dress to accommodate fake boobies to a quandary regarding a lack of vagina. Oh dear indeed.

On a different note, let's talk about something that will be safe from seedy google searches . . . The Weather (riveting, I know). It's just that it's snowing a bit right now and the snow looks like glitter. Seriously, it's like someone threw down some Elmer's glue and is now dusting a coat of glitter over this card board paper we call earth. Quite pretty really.

Also, it's fucking cold, and still our dogs have yet to learn to use the toilet. They don't like going out in this weather and don't like it either. The solution would obviously be to teach them to use the toilet, but they are dogs of very little brain (one is name after Winnie the Pooh for crying out loud) and would undoubtedly fall in. So, we will just maintain with the other operation, which is strategically changing into my pajamas at like 4pm such that Brett is then forced to take the dogs out when it gets really cold because, "I can't take the dogs out, I'm in my pajamas." Diabolical.

New topic . . .

Yesterday I wrote about all these diets I'm on. Really, what I'm doing (Brett came up with this plan, so I can't take credit) is sticking to the one diet for 10 days and seeing how I feel, and then trying the other diet for 10 days and seeing how I feel. Good plan. So far, I'm feeling pretty good on the No-Bladder-Irritant diet that involves lots and lots of healthy things. Sadly, alcohol is not one of them, but I will survive.

Diets

2008-01-22T10:31:00.000-06:00

Let's talk about food. We all know that I am a big fan of food. I am not a picky eater, and odds are I'll try anything. In fact, I asked Brett last night whether he would eat the still beating heart of a cobra (something I witnessed Anthony Bourdain do on No Reservations). Brett said that, "yes, I could eat the still beating heart of a cobra." I was not so certain, but nevertheless, were I in a place where that was customary, and were I to offend someone if I refused to eat said still beating heart of a cobra, I probably would find a way to do it.

Now, various diets have been proposed to me over the course of the last few months, in order to help me get healthy. This is mostly realted to my poor little bladder, but also to the fact that I am, and always have been, chronically constipated. I won't go into details about how completely miserable chronic constipation can be, but really, you'd be surprised how important a good poop is to one's general health.

So obviously a high fiber diet is imperative to my health. This necessitates lots of vegetable, fruits and whole grains. Luckily, this is the diet one is also supposed to follow for weight loss. Seems like a win win situation, no?

Not for me.

I also am supposed to avoid the following foods, due to my bladder situation:

All alcoholic beverages (sigh)
apples
apple juice
cantaloupe
carbonated drinks
chilies/spicy food (sigh)
coffee (triple sigh)
tea
strawberreis
vinegar
nutra-sweet
citrus fruits/juices
Honey
Craberries
Grapes
Guava
lemon juice
peaches
pineapple
plums
tomatoes
onions
vitamin B complex (WTF?)
chocolate (sigh)

Well, there are still alot of food left over that I can enjoy. So it would seem that I just cut all the above out, and eat things like pears, blueberries, leafy greens, beans, whole grains, etc. EXCEPT, my doctor also suggested I try a low oxalate diet. Unfortunately, the low oxalate diet means I can't eat such things such as pears, blueberries, leafy greens, beand and whole grains. This leaves me with a diet of water and rice. Now is the time on Flibberty's blog when we cry.

2008-01-18T11:41:00.000-06:00

Brett wrote a new post over here, at our much neglected foody-blog. Now I'm hungry.

The famous couple you never knew about: Nicolas Cage and Anna Nicole

2008-01-18T11:02:00.000-06:00

Brett and I went to see a movie last night. There’s a theater nearby that serves food and drink during the movie, and we love it! I love going to movies period, but add beer and I’m about ready to burst with delight.

We saw National Treasure, and it was totally cheesy, but that was to be expected. I love a good cheesy movie, and I adore Nicolas Cage. You see, people (truly, this happens more frequently than it should) often say that Brett looks like Nicolas Cage. In fact, when we were moving out here, we stopped at a gas station in North Dakota and this little girl came up to him and asked for his autograph. I think he should have just given her an autograph so she could run to her little friends and say she met Nicolas Cage at the KwikTrip in Valley City, ND. Unfortunately, Brett is less of a liar than I, and declined her request.

The other famous figure Brett gets mistake for is Ray Romano, who, well . . . eh. I don’t see it, but whatevs. Also, my sister thinks he looks like Russell Crowe, but she is often very far off base with regards to everything. I mean, she’s a vegetarian for crying out loud!

Do any of you ever get mistaken for famous people? People used to say I looked like Anna Nicole Smith, which horrified me on so many levels. Luckily for me, she is no longer and therefore folks are far less likely to refer to a dead person when they meet me. Harsh, I know, but come on!

**********************************************************************************
This weekend it’s supposed to be ridiculously cold. Luckily we don’t have shit to do, but sit inside and make stew and watch Die Hard 2: Die Harder. Yes, I know, I’m about 15 years late to the Die Hard franchise, but for some reason I had never seen any Die Hards until about 2 weeks ago, and I still have yet to see a Terminator film. Clearly I missed the best of the early 90’s.

We also get to go to dance class tonight. Brett and I took a ballroom dance class in Billings, but it left something to be desired; namely, knowledge of ballroom dance. So, we’re taking another class here and it’s about a million times better. Our instructor in Billings was a man named “Skip” who had a belly so rotund that his partner would have to form herself into the letter “c” to dance with him. He also was fond of calling all women “little lady” and he kind of smelled like baby powder. He was weird. Now we have an instructor who is a lady and she has no belly and smells like nothing definable, so I’m quite please. Also, Brett and I are by far the stars of the class, which is fantastic. Tonight: RHUMBA!

Pukey-puke

2008-01-17T12:52:00.000-06:00

I knew some girls in Montana who were not really my speed. I liked them fine, but they would sometimes grate on my nerves because they had these little sayings. For example, when one of them would say something cute about her boyfriend, the other ones would automatically ring in saying “Pukey-Puke!” Anyway, I’m about to go all “Pukey-Puke!” on your asses . . .

Sometimes I cannot believe my luck and fortune to be with this man.

. . . end pukey-puke transmission.

If you don't like the word "vagina" don't read this post

2008-01-17T09:43:00.000-06:00

So yesterday afternoon, Brett and I drove across the metropolitan area of Chicago (frightening on so many levels, mostly due to the a-holes who occupy the roads in this fine city) and saw a new doctor. I wanted a second opinion on the whole surgery thing, because it's surgery, and also I just got a funny feeling about the first gyne I saw. I don’t know why, but something inside me was questioning his wisdom. I am so glad I listen to that little voice in my head!

This new doctor was fantastic, and she really listened to us, and she seemed to want to treat the whole me, instead of just one symptom. I like this. She also thought that I was not a candidate for surgery right now, because I really don’t have any symptoms, aside from pelvic pain, that would lead her to believe I have endometriosis or fibroids or cysts or any of those fun things. In fact, she even did an ultrasound and while an ultrasound cannot rule out any of the above, everything did look healthy and I even got a BIG SCREEN up close and personal look at my uterus and my fallopian tubes and all that good stuff. Fascinating anatomy lesson.

Anyway, what she did find out (WARNING, it’s about to get graphic) is that I am incredibly tense down there. She made me flex my kegels (we all know what kegels are don’t we?) while she was examining me, and she said that they never relaxed, even though I thought they did. So basically, I’m just one big ball of tension in my girl parts, which totally explains why intercourse makes me wince in pain. (What? I warned you)

Now this tension may not explain my bladder pain, and she did say that it could be interstitial cystitis (NO!!!!) but since that’s a diagnosis of elimination, we’re going to try some other things first. Most of these other things involve changing my diet (so long peppermint tea, hello Ovaltine!) and teaching my muscles how to relax. Did you know there is such a thing as vaginal physical therapy? I did not, but I’m excited about it. It involves massages, and possibly electrical stimulation (doesn’t that sound naughty!).

So, I think I shall cancel the surgery and somehow break up with my other gynecologist and possibly my urologist. I hate breaking up with people, whether it is a relationship or a hairdresser. Usually, I just disappear (I know, I’m terrible, and also fond of parentheses) and don’t tell them. I think I have to actually tell these doctors and that gives me the nervous tummy.

Also, I'm supposed to do yoga, like routinely. I have one yoga DVD, but doing the same one day in and day out kind of makes me want to shoot myself and also the T.V. Anyone know any good yoga DVDs or videos?

Finally, I made some awesome cookies the other day. They were from a recipe given to me by this lady and I highly recommend them. They are healthy, but delicious!

Here's the recipe (thank you Artemesia!):

Kitchen Sink

Cookies Copyright 2007, Ellie Krieger, All rights reserved

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
2 tablespoons canola oil
1/3 cup light brown sugar
1/4 cup applesauce
1 egg white 1 teaspoon vanilla
2/3 cup whole-wheat pastry flour
1/2 cup oatmeal
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 cup chopped dried cherries
1/4 cup chopped dried apricots
1/4 cup lightly toasted walnuts
2 ounces dark chocolate, cut into chunks
Cooking spray

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Combine butter, oil and brown sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer and mix on high speed, stopping occasionally to scrape down bowl, until mixture is light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add applesauce, egg white and vanilla and mix to combine. Add flour, oatmeal, salt and cinnamon and mix just until just combined. Add cherries, apricots, walnuts and chocolate and mix to combine. Spray 1 baking sheet with cooking spray. Using 1 tablespoon cookie dough at a time, roll into balls and place 2-inches apart on baking sheet. Press cookies down with the palm of your hand to flatten slightly, as cookies will not spread as much as cookies with more butter.

Bake for 12 to 14 minutes, or until lightly browned but still soft. Remove from oven and cool on racks.

minty

2008-01-16T10:57:00.001-06:00

I wrote a really depressing entry, but then I though, “nah.” Sometimes trying not to be sad helps you actually not feel sad. In fact I had a therapist once who told me to smile even when I don’t feel like it, because sometimes your muscle movement can improve your mood. Note, we’re not talking about full fledged depression here, and also note that this is the same therapist that prescribed anti-depressants and anxiety medication that took me 6 months to come off of.

Now, I have not been able to have any caffeine for a few months. I don’t miss it very much, and in fact, I actually feel better on the whole. What with fewer headaches and my tummy seems less prone to random bouts of post-coffee “blech” feelings. But, I’ve now got a nasty peppermint tea habit. I’m not sure if this is a bad thing, or a fine thing, but I drink so much peppermint tea during the day that I’m thinking of buying in bulk. I don’t know why everything I do has to be so all or nothing, but seriously, if I start something, I become either addicted to it, or never continue with it. It’s stupid really, but part of my personality I guess. Then again, there are several things that I half-ass, (like this blog) such that what I just said makes me completely full of shit.

I don’t know. I think I’m strange.

Also, I sit on a heating pad all day at work to mimic the effects of the bun warmers in cars. I personally do not have a bun warmer in my car, but I like them and wish I had one. Now I can pretend I have one in my office. Try it, you might like it. Just be careful not to burn your bum.

currently annoyed by . . .

2008-01-15T17:50:00.000-06:00

You know what I find most annoying about work out videos? When the instructors pretend they can see you. I rented a video from the library (our library is so wonderful, we don't even need Netflix) and the instructors keep saying, "good job!" "you're doing great!" "looks great!" How do they know I'm not sitting on the couch eating a pint of Chubby Hubby? I'm not, mind you, but I could be, and I'd rather be.

Additionally, I kind of dislike doing workout videos because the dogs just stare at me. Two little faces looking up at one big sweaty, dopey momma making huffy noises and maybe close to passing out. Then if I do any mat exercises, they immediately come over and start licking the delicious sweat off my face. It's so gross and sometimes I wonder why we have dogs. Then I remember how much I love them, or I see that damn ASPCA ad on T.V. with Sarah McLachlan (have you seen this?) and it makes me cry and I wind up ordering and ASPCA credit card. WTF?

Also annoying is our carpet. I hate carpet with an irrational passion. Our house in Billings had no carpet, and I liked it that way. Carpet give me hives just thinking about, and the fact that it is all over this apartment makes me perpetually itchy. I guarantee that the next place we buy will have no carpet anywhere, and if it does it will be immediately ripped out, even if it means I have to live on sub-flooring.

I would update on familial health situations, but so far there is no new news and nothing to update upon until my mom hears from her doc, and my dad sees a new doc at Mayo and I have surgery. Good times.

On a happy note, we had a low-key, but very enjoyable weekend that involved way too much Miller Lite and three full games of football, which is some kind of record for me. I just really think it would be fun if the Packers went all the way to the Super Bowl (and maybe won) but don't tell anyone here that, because if you're a Packers fan, well they might string you up a flag poll. I'm a Bears fan through and through, if anyone asks.

Now I'm stinky and itchy post work-out and must shower.

2008, you are officially on notice

2008-01-11T13:58:00.001-06:00

WTF 2008? You are so far a total waste of calendar space. I mean, first you give my dad some MORE cancer, and then you won't let any doctors figure out what's wrong with me, and now you tell me that my mom needs her entire hip replaced? Seriously? It's not like we've all been enjoying superb health for years and years and you need to balance it out or some shit. I mean, jeez.

Lay off, that's all I'm saying.

Also, if you want to throw this big familial suffering bullshit at me, you could at least give us a break in the daily life crap. Like don't go giving Brett collegiate administrative red tape to jump through. He needs to be enjoying school and learning and all that good stuff, not dealing with crap that shouldn't be an issue in the first place.

Also, a raise would be nice, and maybe you could magically remove 25 pounds from my problem areas (a.k.a. belly, boobs and butt)

However, all that aside, I'd happily accept a good prognosis for dad, a successful surgery for mom, a diagnosis (with treatment options) for me, and a smooth sail for Brett.

Deal? Please.

Cookies? Please!

2008-01-11T11:51:00.000-06:00

Hi

This is not a real post but more a lame solicitation for recipes . . . does anyone have a really yummy recipe for a cookie that does NOT involve chocolate. It would be extra good if it also did not involve any sort of unnatural ingredient (like butterscotch chips, or something of that ilk). I want to make some cookies to send in a care package for my dad, but they have to be healthy. Also, I'm not ingesting anything preserved or artificial due to my mysterious and very painful condition (recommended by my doctor, the internet) and I would also like to enjoy a cookie.

HELP!!!

Love and Kisses, as always

terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

2008-01-08T13:02:00.001-06:00

This is an entry with a very woe is me tenor, and I know there are situations that are far worse, but perspective is sometimes hard to find. I'm just saying that because I may look back on this and feel dumb for being so devoid of aforementioned perspective.

Today is just sort of a day I really should have slept through. First of all, it's dreary, and far too warm for January, which is completely throwing me off. Give me some 25 below zero weather and I'm fine, but this 60 degree bullshit is just not right for January and makes me afraid for civilization, and also 184 degree summers.

More importantly, my dad informed me that his prostate cancer has metastasized to his bones. We kind of new this was a distinct possibility, but when I received the news in an email to my work email at 7am in the office this morning, I was a bit unprepared. He is really busy with work until tomorrow, so basically I can't talk to him until tomorrow, and it sucks. Cancer is a sucky thing. There's no other way for me to say that.

Also, I went to the urologist yesterday and he said to me, "I don't know what to tell you." That's never what you want to hear from your doctor. You want to hear, "I have a drug with minimal side-effects that will completely cure your condition." But no, instead he tells me I'm some kind of medical mystery. So he put me on a huge dose of antibiotics for no other reason than he doesn't know what else to do. I promptly went to my gynecologist and made an appointment because maybe this isn't about my bladder . . . maybe it's about my girl parts? Well the gyne wants me to under go a laparoscopy and a dilation and curettage and that's fine, except that my lingering fear that this is somehow related to my reproductive parts is now fully formed. I'm very scared that something has gone so wrong that I won't be able to have babies. I have no evidence that this is the case yet, but I am petrified of that result. I want to have babies.

Clearly not bringing the sunshine today. Forgive me.

Movie time

2008-01-07T15:11:00.001-06:00

Has anyone seen any movies lately?

We've seen three in the same number of weeks, and I have to say, if we don't get ourselves to a rom-com or just a com soon, I may have to go on Prozac. You see, we've managed to choose films that are the ones where you have nothing to say after you see them. In fact, you're sort of in a state of shock and are simply relieved to be released from the theater (at least in my case).

The worst of these films was No Country for Old Men. Now I know that everyone is wetting themselves over this film, and I'm sure it's going to win all sorts of awards and I'm now probably labeled some sort of a philistine for not liking the film, but whatever. I kind of hated it. I should have known this before going to it, because I actually do not like anything that I have ever read by Cormac McCarthy and I cannot watch violent movies. I'm glad I saw it, because now I can say I saw it, but jesus, it was a rough ride.

We also saw Into The Wild, a book that I read about 3 years ago, by one of my favorite authors of all time, Jon Krakauer. The movie was wonderful, just as the book is, but anyone who is not moved and desperate after reading or seeing the film must not have a soul. It's unbelievable and I urge any of you who have not read the book, to get yourselves a copy post haste.

Finally, we saw Sweeney Todd, which I LOVED, despite the fact it literally made me nauseous, what with all the blood, and there is a serious amount of blood. However, it is marvelous and could anything be better than Johnny Depp, Alan Rickman, Sasha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter (who is completely amazing). Johnny Depp is the bees knees, that's what I'm saying.

So, tell me, what movie should we go see (or rent) that won't make me think very much, and won't make me nauseous and does not involve Cormac McCarthy in any way?

baby it's cold outside

2008-01-04T09:55:00.000-06:00

The high yesterday was somewhere in the zero range. This does not bother me, because I own a down coat, a hat with ear flaps, high quality mittens and a scarf. Apparently no one else in Chicago has thought of purchasing such items as it was the TOP STORY on the news. WTF? It’s January in the Midwest, obviously it’s going to get cold. I actually enjoy the bitter cold because I am a Scandinavian and we are only happy when we're miserable. It’s how we roll.

So I’m three days into operation-look-smoking-hot-in-wedding-dress and it’s actually going pretty well. (Amber, we are not getting married until August 2008, but we already live together and I occasionally slip and call him my husband, and I can totally see where you’d think we are already hitched.) Anyway, I’ve suddenly gotten really into my wedding, which is odd because I kind of wasn’t that into it even a week ago. I guess now that the plans are actually in motion and I can actually imagine this thing going down and I’m getting really really excited to be blissfully wedded to my man, I can get excited. But here’s my question . . . why are all wedding dresses strapless? Obviously there are other styles out there, but I’d venture to say that 70% of the dresses I’ve seen are strapless. This looks good on lots of women, but not me. I have boobs. Big boobs that need straps and maybe a crane.

Also, (you didn’t know I was going to turn into a bridezilla did you?) I want a short wedding dress. This is unheard of I guess. Oh well, I could have worse problems, like the fact that I’m currently waiting for my urologist to call me back because the GD bladder pain is back with
a vengeance. I swear I’m going crazy. They’ve done a bazillion (okay, two) tests and there is no objective explanation for my pain. If it were 1882 they’d diagnose me with hysteria and call it a day. I hope they don’t do that now.

I secretly think I’m allergic to Illinois, but that’s hard to test for.

Welcome 2008 and I miss food

2008-01-03T09:51:00.001-06:00

Well it’s come to this. I’m on a diet. This sucks. It has to be done though. I’ve let myself go too long solely eating beer and hot wings, and maybe lots of fancy cheese and baguettes slathered in butter. Oh dear God I’m hungry!

I know, I’ve been gone for 2 weeks, and here I am only to talk about food and the fact that I’m not eating any, and how terribly boring is that?! It’s just that when we were in Minnesota my mom and my aunt dragged me to try on wedding dresses and it wasn’t good. There were tears, and concerns that the other skinny women in the bridal boutique were quietly considering what type of man would marry a whale like me? Superficial and horrible? Yes. But I’m being honest. It sucked.

Most of me knows that I’m not really all that fat, but it’s just that I’m not comfortable in my own skin and have been running from cameras and form fitting clothing for about 2 years now, and it’s time to stop this foolishness. However, this is difficulty terrain for me because I have a long history of battling eating disorders, and severe ones at that. Basically, we’re on a slippery slope here, and I hope I don’t fall off.

Life goes on despite the fact I can’t have refined sugars.

Minnesota was alternatively super fun, and crushingly sad. Thus is the way of my family and the fact that no on can get past my parents’ failed marriage, despite the fact that they’ve been divorced longer than they were married. Such a drain on all. Also, step-parents are weird.

There’s that meme floating around, but really, all I can say is that I’m glad this year is over because it was hard.

Over the river and through the woods

2007-12-20T09:20:00.000-06:00

Can I just say that if I hear Rachael Ray exclaim, “I always have like a million bags on hand!” one more time, I might slit my wrists. I don’t know if you guys have endured the same barrage of Dunkin Donut ads as I have, but seriously, I can’t take it anymore. Between her and Beyonce offering to upgrade me, I’m done with these two women. Also, is there anything Beyonce won’t be a spokesperson for? That woman has no standards, and also I can’t handle her jelly.

No transition paragraph here.

I got my hair cut and colored yesterday, except my hair is made of some sort of color rejection protein, because my hair lady tried to dye it twice, and it never took. Seriously, I was at the salon for 3 hours yesterday, and while I like my hair, it wasn’t what I was hoping for because I was hoping for low lights that stood out, and instead I have mousy brown dim lights. At least she didn’t charge me for it. Also, I found a fantastic new hair product, which probably isn’t new to any of you, but I have never been a hair product user. I am much more of a wash, half-assed blow dry, hate my hair all day because I can’t spend more than 5 minutes getting ready, kind of girl. But this shit, this shit is the shit.

No transition here either

So we’re off to Minnesota tomorrow. We’ll be there for a whole entire week and Brett is a saint for his willingness to spend so much time with the lunatics I call family. I suppose it doesn’t hurt that my father has a very fine liquor cabinet, and we maybe will spend most of Christmas thoroughly sauced. Isn’t that how most families get through being together?

nothing new here, but over there . . .

2007-12-18T22:27:00.000-06:00

Hi everybody!

We've got a new post over here.