Ella only a few months after coming home!
Ella, 1 year into the family
Ella, 2 years at home and fully in charge of....everyone! Thursday, August 20, 2009
Two Years
Two years ago today I was at home much like today, but my sister and mom were in China. We were all getting ready for "Gottcha Day". The day that Ella would finally meet her mommy, and we would finally see updated pictures of Ella. Two years ago today, I woke up in the middle of the night ready to check my sister's blog for pictures of Ella but managed to convince myself to go back to sleep after realizing what time it was. (Imagine my surprise when I woke up in the morning and read Noelle's blog...turns out that at the exact same time that I woke up in Georgia, she was seeing Ella for the first time. Really if it weren't for our 3 year age difference I'd say it was a freaky twin thing). Two years ago today I got a phone call from my BFF on the way to work, screaming that the pictures were finally up! Two years ago today I sat with Beth and laughed and cried when we looked at the pictures for the first time together. Two years ago today I became an Aunt, and it remains my # 1 day ever.
Ella only a few months after coming home!
Ella, 1 year into the family
Ella, 2 years at home and fully in charge of....everyone!
Ella only a few months after coming home! Ella, 1 year into the family Ella, 2 years at home and fully in charge of....everyone! 
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Confession Part 2
I am not a trendy person as my friends will be quick to tell you. I hate to shop. I often think that the "fashion" I see in the stores looks stupid and don't understand haute couture. However, there is one piece of fashion that I love, that I wish I could wear, that's makes me wish I lived in a different decade...
Hats
I love hats, and I'm not talking baseball here people. I'm talking about Hats with a Capital H. Hats that were part of ensembles. Hat's with feathers and bows. BIG hats that cover your entire head, and little hats that only cover a part of your hair. Sadly, I don't wear hats. Sadly, most people don't wear hats. Sadly, hats are not "in". But oh, how I wish they were. I wish I had a hat to go with every outfit. And hat boxes and hat pins for each one.
Perhaps if I had been born 50 years ago I could have had the hats of my dreams. Of course then it would also be 50 years ago and I would have things like the Internet or Deadliest Catch. Still, it would be nice to be able to buy and wear the hats that I long for. I suppose that until time travel becomes a reality, or hats come back into fashion, I'll have to just slap on a baseball hat and pretend it's adorned with bow and flowers and that people don't think I'm crazy for loving hats!
Hats
I love hats, and I'm not talking baseball here people. I'm talking about Hats with a Capital H. Hats that were part of ensembles. Hat's with feathers and bows. BIG hats that cover your entire head, and little hats that only cover a part of your hair. Sadly, I don't wear hats. Sadly, most people don't wear hats. Sadly, hats are not "in". But oh, how I wish they were. I wish I had a hat to go with every outfit. And hat boxes and hat pins for each one.
Perhaps if I had been born 50 years ago I could have had the hats of my dreams. Of course then it would also be 50 years ago and I would have things like the Internet or Deadliest Catch. Still, it would be nice to be able to buy and wear the hats that I long for. I suppose that until time travel becomes a reality, or hats come back into fashion, I'll have to just slap on a baseball hat and pretend it's adorned with bow and flowers and that people don't think I'm crazy for loving hats!
Aren't Pets Grand?
I written before about how my cat would kill me if she could (and love every minute of it), but I'm not sure if I mentioned that she has split personalities or not. She's sort of a Jekyll and Hyde type of cat. Only I like to think of her as Cordy and Cordelia. As Cordy she's sweet and kind, she likes to snuggle (although only twice a day). Cordy let 2 toddlers pet her last weekend and likes to clean my dog's fur. Cordy is a house cat.
Cordelia on the other hand is the one who wants to kill me. She's a wild beast. She is also the one who, at the moment, is unnecessarily angry at me for changing her kitty litter to a new brand. Cordelia is the one who pooped in her bed and, most recently, decided to pee in my dog's food dish. Yeah, that's just want I love to come home to...dog food congealed in cat pee.
If you think that's gross, your right. And it's probably worse than you are imagining.
I am determined to not let Cordelia beat me. I've cleverly put a thin layer of her old litter over the new stuff in the litter box. Let's hope Cordy emerges soon and gives it a shot because I'm so over cleaning crap up all over the house, the litter box is gross enough!
Cordelia on the other hand is the one who wants to kill me. She's a wild beast. She is also the one who, at the moment, is unnecessarily angry at me for changing her kitty litter to a new brand. Cordelia is the one who pooped in her bed and, most recently, decided to pee in my dog's food dish. Yeah, that's just want I love to come home to...dog food congealed in cat pee.
If you think that's gross, your right. And it's probably worse than you are imagining.
I am determined to not let Cordelia beat me. I've cleverly put a thin layer of her old litter over the new stuff in the litter box. Let's hope Cordy emerges soon and gives it a shot because I'm so over cleaning crap up all over the house, the litter box is gross enough!
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Running
I know that people run, I know that some people (for reasons that I can't fathom) even like to run. But what I really can't understand is why people insist on running on the road, when there is a perfectly safe bike path and sidewalks along the road to run on. I mean really, there's this one guy in particular who runs, and I'm using that term loosely, down major roads. Busy, major roads, with lots of traffic. And he doesn't run so much as do a spot on imitation of Burt (of Sesame Street fame) doing the . . . pigeon.
It doesn't seem safe, or smart. And really, if you run you probably do it for your health so I'd think you'd be concerned with getting hit by a car. I'm just saying...
It doesn't seem safe, or smart. And really, if you run you probably do it for your health so I'd think you'd be concerned with getting hit by a car. I'm just saying...
Thursday, July 16, 2009
It's the pits
(WARNING: This is kind of gross, sorry)
One of the many glamorous things about having RA is that my immune system isn't quite up to snuff. You see having RA means that my immune system thinks that the fluid surrounding my joints is evil and attacks it causing swelling, pain, and super sexy claws where my hands should be. Clearly my immune system takes the short bus to work. Now, because it's my immune system that is the problem the medications I take suppress my immune system so it can't attack my joints. I'm all about the medication because it's one of the reasons why I am now able to do things like dress myself (I'm a big kid now), but having a immune system that doesn't fire at 100% means that infections are a real concern.
Keeping this in mind I became concerned when I noticed a large, red, warm lump under my arm (I'm to dignified to say armpit). A major infection could easily land me in the ER which I have tried to avoid since my senior year at Witt when I broke a finger by falling off my porch, sober. After several days I did what most people do, I told my mommy who made me call the doctor, who made me come in to the office. So I found myself on the exam table about to get Harold (as I like to call the lump) lanced. I admit I was pretty excited about this because, well I'm weird and I wanted to see what was going to come out of Harold. I was fully numbed before the scalpel came out so I didn't actually feel anything, but I could hear the scalpel and ahhh, like nails on a chalkboard. Not even the crap coming out of Harold could make up for that noise. Also, because Harold is the gift that keeps on giving, I've been having to apply and reapply bandages to the area ever since then. Do you know how much it hurts to remove medical tape from your armpit (guess I'm not that dignified after all)? Especially when there is an incision there? And it bruised from trying to squeeze Harold to death? It hurts. Yesterday I actually used this sentence in conversation "I couldn't get on the treadmill today because my armpit hurt". For real people do you know how often your armpit moves during the day? A LOT! But still as the saying goes "better out than in" and I'm frankly ready for Harold to move on, and take his crap with him (even if it is kind of cool, in a gross way).
One of the many glamorous things about having RA is that my immune system isn't quite up to snuff. You see having RA means that my immune system thinks that the fluid surrounding my joints is evil and attacks it causing swelling, pain, and super sexy claws where my hands should be. Clearly my immune system takes the short bus to work. Now, because it's my immune system that is the problem the medications I take suppress my immune system so it can't attack my joints. I'm all about the medication because it's one of the reasons why I am now able to do things like dress myself (I'm a big kid now), but having a immune system that doesn't fire at 100% means that infections are a real concern.
Keeping this in mind I became concerned when I noticed a large, red, warm lump under my arm (I'm to dignified to say armpit). A major infection could easily land me in the ER which I have tried to avoid since my senior year at Witt when I broke a finger by falling off my porch, sober. After several days I did what most people do, I told my mommy who made me call the doctor, who made me come in to the office. So I found myself on the exam table about to get Harold (as I like to call the lump) lanced. I admit I was pretty excited about this because, well I'm weird and I wanted to see what was going to come out of Harold. I was fully numbed before the scalpel came out so I didn't actually feel anything, but I could hear the scalpel and ahhh, like nails on a chalkboard. Not even the crap coming out of Harold could make up for that noise. Also, because Harold is the gift that keeps on giving, I've been having to apply and reapply bandages to the area ever since then. Do you know how much it hurts to remove medical tape from your armpit (guess I'm not that dignified after all)? Especially when there is an incision there? And it bruised from trying to squeeze Harold to death? It hurts. Yesterday I actually used this sentence in conversation "I couldn't get on the treadmill today because my armpit hurt". For real people do you know how often your armpit moves during the day? A LOT! But still as the saying goes "better out than in" and I'm frankly ready for Harold to move on, and take his crap with him (even if it is kind of cool, in a gross way).
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
I am not a Writer...
I am a person who writes. If you don't understand the difference then you've never been an English Major, or a Writer, or a Person who Writes.
See here's the difference, I like to write and I write when I feel like it. I blog, or journal, or type things into files that will never see the light of day. I start stories, and more stories, and write scenes, and make plans that I never follow through on. Some months I'll write a lot, some months I won't write at all. I use entirely to many italics (and parentheses).
But a Writer, well a writer writes everyday. They write even when the words won't come, they write when they feel like it and when they don't. They put pen to paper just to put pen to paper. They are much, much more disciplined than I. They have the skill and ability to take words and thoughts and dreams and ideas and turn them into the stories that we read.
And here's my secret (shh) I've always wanted to be a Writer. To be able to take the scenes and stories that run rampant through my brain and put them on the page and make them as real as they are in my head. I want to be able to influence, and inspire, to make people laugh or cry based on my words. I want to be a writer, but I may have to settle on just being a person who writes.
See here's the difference, I like to write and I write when I feel like it. I blog, or journal, or type things into files that will never see the light of day. I start stories, and more stories, and write scenes, and make plans that I never follow through on. Some months I'll write a lot, some months I won't write at all. I use entirely to many italics (and parentheses).
But a Writer, well a writer writes everyday. They write even when the words won't come, they write when they feel like it and when they don't. They put pen to paper just to put pen to paper. They are much, much more disciplined than I. They have the skill and ability to take words and thoughts and dreams and ideas and turn them into the stories that we read.
And here's my secret (shh) I've always wanted to be a Writer. To be able to take the scenes and stories that run rampant through my brain and put them on the page and make them as real as they are in my head. I want to be able to influence, and inspire, to make people laugh or cry based on my words. I want to be a writer, but I may have to settle on just being a person who writes.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Seriously funny reading recommendation
As you know I read a LOT! I read books of all kinds; fiction, nonfiction, memoirs, biographies, classic literature, historical fiction, travel narratives, plays, short stories, young adult books, and chick lit. It would be impossible for me to pick out my favorite genre because I love them all. I think books are like music in that you need to have plenty around for all of your moods. There are certain books I can only read when I'm feeling serious, silly, sad, etc. Two of my very favorite books to read when I'm in the mood for a good laugh are "How I Paid for College: A Novel of Sex, Theft, Friendship, and Musical Theater" and "Attack of the Theater People" both my Marc Acito. If you haven't read these you absolutely must they could be the funniest things I've ever read. They are laugh-out-loud-pee-your-pants funny. I have the added bonus of having the main character remind me of someone I went to college with which makes it extra hilarious for me. These books are for anyone who has ever been in a play, watched a play, or tried out for a play. It's for all of us who know all the lyrics to all of the musicals. It's for people who never had the guts to be in a play, but still dream about how awesome it would be. It's for anyone who feels nostalgic for the 80's. It's for anyone who has ever had to worry about how to pay for (or pay back) their college tuition. Seriously, go read them, I guarantee you'll love them.
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