I am trying very hard to be positive about a series of things over the last week and a half.
I woke up last Monday unable to put any weight or pressure on the big toe of my right foot. As I hadn’t actually done anything to my foot to cause such a problem, the pain was both a mystery and, well, painful.
By Tuesday night, my toe still hurt and my ankle and knee were starting to feel the affects of walking funny to favor the sore part of my foot.
On Thursday, I saw my doctor of osteopathic medicine (DO - my general doctor) who took an x-ray and determined that there wasn’t any fracture or other damage she could see in my foot but there was, evidently, very little space in the joints of my toe -- meaning that, as I walked, the bones were more or less rubbing together. My DO was concerned that the problem was related to rheumatoid arthritis (RA), the autoimmune disorder I suffer with, or maybe gout (which is a horribly named old man disease but also another connective tissue disorder that there’s a good chance I could get). She gave me some suggestions for managing pain until I could get into see the rheumatologist (the specialist I see for RA -- see previous post for more information).
I saw my rheumatologist yesterday and there’s good news, bad news and “eh” news.
The good news is that I don’t have gout.
The bad news is that I’ve likely got joint damage from the RA in my feet.
The “eh” news is that at least we now know the treatment we’ve been doing isn’t aggressive enough as I’ve got another damaged area. I’ll start an additional medication today and try it out for the next several of weeks. This prescription involves period blood tests as there’s a chance of it killing blood cells and causing anemia. While waiting for the new medication to kick in, I’ll be on a tapering steroid dose to reduce present inflammation and pain management.
This latest development has me more down than usual about my RA. I usually consider myself pretty lucky that I was pretty young (26) and relatively healthy when I was diagnosed and treatment was started. But I think what few understand -- and what I, even, sometimes forget -- is how serious it really is and how much damage the disease can cause. I get teased a lot for being a hypochondriac or a wimp because I see my DO for “every little thing” but there’s no way of telling which one of those little things is RA-related or a precursor to a bigger issue.
I’m hopeful, after seeing my rheumatologist, that I’ll get back to a normal level of pain and mobility and back to my usual self soon. For now, I’m a little slower and definitely not as upbeat.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Lube Job
If I’ve not mentioned it before, I love O’Donnell’s On-the-Spot Repair.
I’m seated in their lobby of their new facility in south Lansing waiting for Hedwig to get a much-overdo oil change and general checkup.
The general checkup is one of many things that, to me, sets O’Donnell’s apart from other shops where I could get my car’s routine services. The mechanics here always go above and beyond checking my car over and catching most issues before they become a problem. If they notice something, they’re honest about how soon I should have it taken care of or if it’s something I even need to worry about.
Though I’d frequented O’Donnell’s for car repair for most of my Lansing life, I used to rely on quick-lube shops for the regular oil changes. As you likely know, these places always like to suggest friendly services that are, apparently, recommended by the manufacturer every so-many miles. During one such oil change at a local quick-lube five years ago, an employee informed me that my car was in need of almost $500 worth of service, including a new serpentine belt. As I was getting ready for a road trip east, I was concerned about all the maintenance my car apparently needed but not ready (or able) to fork over that big of a chunk for all the bells and whistles they said I needed.
I paid for the oil change and drove away to contemplate which services took precedence and to see if I could finagle my finances to cover them.
With the list of all the things Hedwig apparently needed, I gave O’Donnell’s a call on the off-chance that they might be able to perform some of the work for less money than the quick-lube shop. After speaking with a mechanic over the phone, I ended up taking Hedwig in for another oil change — after which they told me I didn’t need any of the services the quick-lube had suggested and my serpentine belt was just fine (a mite dusty but easily cleaned; I’ve only just recently replaced the belt after getting another four years out of it).
So, with the cost of the second oil change, O’Donnell’s managed to save me more than $400 by just being honest. I’ve been a loyal customer ever since. I won’t say they’re the cheapest place in town but my experience has been quality service with integrity.
Oh! Looks like Hedwig’s done. And apparently I need a new fuel filter in the next couple of months. Not a surprise and not something I can’t live without for a little while. So I’m pretty happy and out of here in less than a half-hour.
I’m seated in their lobby of their new facility in south Lansing waiting for Hedwig to get a much-overdo oil change and general checkup.
The general checkup is one of many things that, to me, sets O’Donnell’s apart from other shops where I could get my car’s routine services. The mechanics here always go above and beyond checking my car over and catching most issues before they become a problem. If they notice something, they’re honest about how soon I should have it taken care of or if it’s something I even need to worry about.
Though I’d frequented O’Donnell’s for car repair for most of my Lansing life, I used to rely on quick-lube shops for the regular oil changes. As you likely know, these places always like to suggest friendly services that are, apparently, recommended by the manufacturer every so-many miles. During one such oil change at a local quick-lube five years ago, an employee informed me that my car was in need of almost $500 worth of service, including a new serpentine belt. As I was getting ready for a road trip east, I was concerned about all the maintenance my car apparently needed but not ready (or able) to fork over that big of a chunk for all the bells and whistles they said I needed.
I paid for the oil change and drove away to contemplate which services took precedence and to see if I could finagle my finances to cover them.
With the list of all the things Hedwig apparently needed, I gave O’Donnell’s a call on the off-chance that they might be able to perform some of the work for less money than the quick-lube shop. After speaking with a mechanic over the phone, I ended up taking Hedwig in for another oil change — after which they told me I didn’t need any of the services the quick-lube had suggested and my serpentine belt was just fine (a mite dusty but easily cleaned; I’ve only just recently replaced the belt after getting another four years out of it).
So, with the cost of the second oil change, O’Donnell’s managed to save me more than $400 by just being honest. I’ve been a loyal customer ever since. I won’t say they’re the cheapest place in town but my experience has been quality service with integrity.
Oh! Looks like Hedwig’s done. And apparently I need a new fuel filter in the next couple of months. Not a surprise and not something I can’t live without for a little while. So I’m pretty happy and out of here in less than a half-hour.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Killer Queen
I was out of town this past weekend for my sister’s wedding reception (the wedding having actually taken place last summer). In my absence, members of the Super Friends came over and power washed my house.
While power washing the house (and, subsequently, going above and beyond to clean out my gutters), one Super Friend disturbed a hive of yellow jackets and got stung. Startled by this, he almost fell off my roof. Understandably, I feel quite badly about this — he didn’t have to give up his afternoon to work at my house and in the midst of his good deed, he ended up injured.
My guilt didn’t last long, however, as I was soon distracted by the new home the yellow jackets decided to make — inside the back door. I’m certainly glad I wasn’t my usually distracted self when I opened the door to let the cat out else I may have missed the dozen or so intimidating buggers swarming all over the inside of the screen door.
After consulting friends, coworkers and a very knowledgeable customer service representative at the Home Depot, I purchased a death ray (or can of pest killer) and waited until the early hours of this morning to do away with my uninvited guests.
To most, this is probably a no-brainer type of thing. If you’ve got wasps or yellow jackets hanging around your home in a very intimidating fashion, you run out and get the strongest stuff you can to kill them. But I just can’t do that. I struggle with the moral dilemma of the yellow jackets having their place in the circle of life and what right do I have to remove them from it?
Eventually, I had to accept that there was no way I could live with only having one point of access in and out of my home and the yellow jackets posed a real danger to myself and any visitors I may have. But, even with the deed done, I can’t help but feel a small sense of loss for the part I played in taking the lives of several of nature’s creatures.
I can’t help but imagine them, all snug in the early morning hours, nestled together for warmth in the safety of my screen door and completely unaware of what fate awaited them. I also can’t help but imagine the one yellow jacket who no doubt struck out early to pick up bagels and coffee for the hive only to discover their demise upon his return. The good news, I guess, is that his sadness will be short-lived as The Stuff I used is supposed to kill any returning pest for the next 24 hours.
While power washing the house (and, subsequently, going above and beyond to clean out my gutters), one Super Friend disturbed a hive of yellow jackets and got stung. Startled by this, he almost fell off my roof. Understandably, I feel quite badly about this — he didn’t have to give up his afternoon to work at my house and in the midst of his good deed, he ended up injured.
My guilt didn’t last long, however, as I was soon distracted by the new home the yellow jackets decided to make — inside the back door. I’m certainly glad I wasn’t my usually distracted self when I opened the door to let the cat out else I may have missed the dozen or so intimidating buggers swarming all over the inside of the screen door.
After consulting friends, coworkers and a very knowledgeable customer service representative at the Home Depot, I purchased a death ray (or can of pest killer) and waited until the early hours of this morning to do away with my uninvited guests.
To most, this is probably a no-brainer type of thing. If you’ve got wasps or yellow jackets hanging around your home in a very intimidating fashion, you run out and get the strongest stuff you can to kill them. But I just can’t do that. I struggle with the moral dilemma of the yellow jackets having their place in the circle of life and what right do I have to remove them from it?
Eventually, I had to accept that there was no way I could live with only having one point of access in and out of my home and the yellow jackets posed a real danger to myself and any visitors I may have. But, even with the deed done, I can’t help but feel a small sense of loss for the part I played in taking the lives of several of nature’s creatures.
I can’t help but imagine them, all snug in the early morning hours, nestled together for warmth in the safety of my screen door and completely unaware of what fate awaited them. I also can’t help but imagine the one yellow jacket who no doubt struck out early to pick up bagels and coffee for the hive only to discover their demise upon his return. The good news, I guess, is that his sadness will be short-lived as The Stuff I used is supposed to kill any returning pest for the next 24 hours.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Left Behind
The last couple of weeks have been pretty busy and I’ve been running myself a mite ragged with too many social commitments. Not necessarily “too many” as I hate to complain about having too many friends and too many things to do with them but last night was the first night in a while that I came straight home from work and didn’t have to go anywhere. Of course, this was only because I bowed out of a committee meeting for the nature center in favor of catching up on three hours of yard work and a load of laundry (which is still waiting to be put away this morning but I was understandably tired by the time I came inside last night).
Anyway. Because of the many things occupying my thoughts and some mild sleep deprivation, I think I’m starting to lose my mind — or I’m at least in danger of walking off without it one of these days. This is exactly what I did the other day with my keys at the gas station (I didn’t get far, of course, before realizing my mistake). And then yesterday morning with the cup of coffee I bought at Tim Horton’s (I was as far as my car before it dawned on me that I seemed awfully empty-handed for having just stopped in for a caffeinated beverage).
Again, I can’t complain about being too popular because, as problems go, it’s a nice one to have. However, I do need to set aside some Joy-time soon or there’s no telling what will get left behind next.
Anyway. Because of the many things occupying my thoughts and some mild sleep deprivation, I think I’m starting to lose my mind — or I’m at least in danger of walking off without it one of these days. This is exactly what I did the other day with my keys at the gas station (I didn’t get far, of course, before realizing my mistake). And then yesterday morning with the cup of coffee I bought at Tim Horton’s (I was as far as my car before it dawned on me that I seemed awfully empty-handed for having just stopped in for a caffeinated beverage).
Again, I can’t complain about being too popular because, as problems go, it’s a nice one to have. However, I do need to set aside some Joy-time soon or there’s no telling what will get left behind next.
Monday, June 02, 2008
The Problem with Well-behaved Children...
...Is that you tend to forget about them.
Teyla just spent nearly four hours out of her cage — one of those hours being while I was out for an evening walk. She was just laying in her room (sometimes known as the guest room despite that most of my guests prefer the squooshy comfort of my sofas) and being a very well-mannered rabbit. The good news is that it’s my habit to check on her before bed else I may have forgotten to put her back in her cage altogether tonight.
Since the departure of Slim Jim (who has gone to live with a nice little girl who has, apparently, provided him with his own pretty pink palace), Teyla has been enjoying more and more liberty outside of her cage. She is far less aggressive than before and certainly better behaved in his absence and has been properly awarded with increased freedoms. Though we all miss Slim Jamison, he is far happier surrounded by children (he’s always suffered from Little Bunny Syndrome) and Teyla is enjoying her independence.
Teyla just spent nearly four hours out of her cage — one of those hours being while I was out for an evening walk. She was just laying in her room (sometimes known as the guest room despite that most of my guests prefer the squooshy comfort of my sofas) and being a very well-mannered rabbit. The good news is that it’s my habit to check on her before bed else I may have forgotten to put her back in her cage altogether tonight.
Since the departure of Slim Jim (who has gone to live with a nice little girl who has, apparently, provided him with his own pretty pink palace), Teyla has been enjoying more and more liberty outside of her cage. She is far less aggressive than before and certainly better behaved in his absence and has been properly awarded with increased freedoms. Though we all miss Slim Jamison, he is far happier surrounded by children (he’s always suffered from Little Bunny Syndrome) and Teyla is enjoying her independence.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
That’s Gonna Leave a Mark
If only I could figure out how to get my MacBook, which is set up for wireless internet access at home, to print wirelessly to the printer downstairs. As it is, if I want to print something, I have to leave the comfort of my couch and carry Scooby all the way downstairs to plug in and print.
This isn’t a big deal. It really isn’t. But my office has gotten messier and messier since I spend so little time in it and so, last night, when I went downstairs to print something there was little desk space for which to place Scooby while I printed off driving directions.
Being impatient and none-to-bright, I set my laptop, my beloved laptop, precariously on the edge of the desk while I turned on the printer — only to watch in horrified silence as Scooby fell from the desk toward the floor.
The good news is that my MacBook’s fall was softened by the presence of my foot. The bad news is that I’ve got a painful bruise on the top of my foot that is going to make shoe-wearing less than comfortable today.
I really need to call Apple and figure out the wireless printing and clean off some desk space. Maybe with my bruise as a reminder I'll actually get to one of those in the near future.
This isn’t a big deal. It really isn’t. But my office has gotten messier and messier since I spend so little time in it and so, last night, when I went downstairs to print something there was little desk space for which to place Scooby while I printed off driving directions.
Being impatient and none-to-bright, I set my laptop, my beloved laptop, precariously on the edge of the desk while I turned on the printer — only to watch in horrified silence as Scooby fell from the desk toward the floor.
The good news is that my MacBook’s fall was softened by the presence of my foot. The bad news is that I’ve got a painful bruise on the top of my foot that is going to make shoe-wearing less than comfortable today.
I really need to call Apple and figure out the wireless printing and clean off some desk space. Maybe with my bruise as a reminder I'll actually get to one of those in the near future.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Girl Gone Wired
I was a bad girl the other night.
That’s actually not entirely accurate.
I was a perfectly well-behaved girl the other night in the company of a very attractive young man with whom I talked until nearly 1:30 in the morning.
That’s the bad part because, as you know, I need my beauty sleep.
As a result of my late, late night of conversation, I was in desperate need of artificial energy yesterday. I started out with a cup of coffee at work which, if you’ve ever worked in an office environment, is pretty terrible. To compensate, I like to add two packets of hot cocoa mix to the coffee and make my own not-all-that-great-tasting-but-more-or-less-passable cup of mocha-like java.
Despite the added sugar, my cup of coffee did little to dispel the fog that surrounded my brain and I asked one of my coworkers to pick me up a tall flavored coffee with an extra shot of espresso on her way into the office. Though aware of the danger of giving that much caffeine to everyone’s favorite webmistress, she complied — for which I am oh so grateful — and I was flying high for the next several hours.
Then came the crash. And, goodness, was it unpleasant.
I’m sure it was amusing for anyone paying attention as I went from speaking 7-times faster than usual (which is already pretty fast, by the way) to barely being able to choke out a coherent sentence by mid-afternoon. This was, of course, no good as I still had a board meeting to get through after work for the nature center with which I am associated.
Already feeling kind of sick from the sugar and caffeine running through my system for most of the day, I had to face the fact that there was no way I was going to make it through my evening without a double shot of my baby’s love...or four more shots of espresso as it turned out (something about the espresso machine delivering its shots in batches of two so I might as well take the fourth as a freebie). It took a bit of time to kick in but by the time the caffeine was raging through my system I was barely able to sit still during my meeting (to which one of my fellow board members kindly pointed out where the Ladies Room was).
By the time I finally got home, exhausted but still wired, I wanted nothing more than to sleep. Too bad I couldn’t really as I was still hopped up from the seven espresso shots. Needless to say, I didn’t get the best night’s rest and am already dreading that I’m going to need caffeine to get through the morning.
If you see me today, you may want to take note and use appropriate caution.
That’s actually not entirely accurate.
I was a perfectly well-behaved girl the other night in the company of a very attractive young man with whom I talked until nearly 1:30 in the morning.
That’s the bad part because, as you know, I need my beauty sleep.
As a result of my late, late night of conversation, I was in desperate need of artificial energy yesterday. I started out with a cup of coffee at work which, if you’ve ever worked in an office environment, is pretty terrible. To compensate, I like to add two packets of hot cocoa mix to the coffee and make my own not-all-that-great-tasting-but-more-or-less-passable cup of mocha-like java.
Despite the added sugar, my cup of coffee did little to dispel the fog that surrounded my brain and I asked one of my coworkers to pick me up a tall flavored coffee with an extra shot of espresso on her way into the office. Though aware of the danger of giving that much caffeine to everyone’s favorite webmistress, she complied — for which I am oh so grateful — and I was flying high for the next several hours.
Then came the crash. And, goodness, was it unpleasant.
I’m sure it was amusing for anyone paying attention as I went from speaking 7-times faster than usual (which is already pretty fast, by the way) to barely being able to choke out a coherent sentence by mid-afternoon. This was, of course, no good as I still had a board meeting to get through after work for the nature center with which I am associated.
Already feeling kind of sick from the sugar and caffeine running through my system for most of the day, I had to face the fact that there was no way I was going to make it through my evening without a double shot of my baby’s love...or four more shots of espresso as it turned out (something about the espresso machine delivering its shots in batches of two so I might as well take the fourth as a freebie). It took a bit of time to kick in but by the time the caffeine was raging through my system I was barely able to sit still during my meeting (to which one of my fellow board members kindly pointed out where the Ladies Room was).
By the time I finally got home, exhausted but still wired, I wanted nothing more than to sleep. Too bad I couldn’t really as I was still hopped up from the seven espresso shots. Needless to say, I didn’t get the best night’s rest and am already dreading that I’m going to need caffeine to get through the morning.
If you see me today, you may want to take note and use appropriate caution.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
An Irrational Fear of Hygiene Products
No, not me. I happen to be a big fan of being clean and sweet-smelling.
The one with the irrational fear of hygiene products is my cat.
As many of you know, I can only guess what Rebecca’s existence consisted of before she wondered into my life. While on the thin side, she was obviously a healthy cat who had been spade and de-clawed. Thinking that she must belong to someone, I waited for two months until my landlady convinced me that I should take this affectionate black cat in and make her my own.
When I adopted Rebecca, I discovered that she had a few quirks — some of which could be preludes to a less-than-solid previous home life.
For one thing, Rebecca is, as discussed before, a giant chicken. She is always hesitant of new visitors and is especially cautious of men. I have some friends who think the stories and pictures of my cat are fabricated as they’ve never seen her.
Rebecca also has, what I can only label as, mildly psychotic episodes. Though I’ve never truly felt my life has been in danger living with her, there have been peeks into a not-entirely-stable mind. I can be stretched out on the couch with her, happily stroking her soft fur, only to have her suddenly attack with sharp teeth and back claws for some imaginary offense I’ve made. She’s also been known, while I’ve been bent over to pick something up or whatnot, to jump on my back and stay there for as long as she can hold on.
I can’t really judge these quirks. I myself have a few idiosyncrasies that many believe to be hints of a not completely sane individual and I can’t fault my cat for the same. But she does have one peculiarity in particular that I just can’t fathom.
She’s afraid of hygiene products.
Maybe calling her “afraid” is a bit harsh. Wary may be the more apt description. When I’m getting ready in the morning, Rebecca usually follows me around while I take my first set of medications, feed the rabbits and brush my teeth. Once I get in the shower, she usually retires back to bed and will merely stare at me with one bleary green eye when I return to the bedroom to dress. I haven’t figured out the specific trigger yet and it doesn’t always happen as Rebecca may be closer to sleep at some times than others, but somewhere between the antiperspirant, body lotion and perfume (as I said, I like to be sweet-smelling), she will take off in a streak of black fur not to be seen for the next ten to fifteen minutes.
I can’t imagine what her previous owners could have done to make Rebecca so afraid of a bottle of Strawberry Fizz glimmering body lotion but there must have been something to get such a consistent and conditioned response from my otherwise sedate companion. If I were truly a loving parent, I would perform my morning ritual elsewhere so as not trigger the slumbering psychosis with a bottle of Very Sexy perfume.
But, like the rest of us who harbor mild and relatively harmless mental conditions, she’s just going to have to deal with it.
The one with the irrational fear of hygiene products is my cat.
As many of you know, I can only guess what Rebecca’s existence consisted of before she wondered into my life. While on the thin side, she was obviously a healthy cat who had been spade and de-clawed. Thinking that she must belong to someone, I waited for two months until my landlady convinced me that I should take this affectionate black cat in and make her my own.
When I adopted Rebecca, I discovered that she had a few quirks — some of which could be preludes to a less-than-solid previous home life.
For one thing, Rebecca is, as discussed before, a giant chicken. She is always hesitant of new visitors and is especially cautious of men. I have some friends who think the stories and pictures of my cat are fabricated as they’ve never seen her.
Rebecca also has, what I can only label as, mildly psychotic episodes. Though I’ve never truly felt my life has been in danger living with her, there have been peeks into a not-entirely-stable mind. I can be stretched out on the couch with her, happily stroking her soft fur, only to have her suddenly attack with sharp teeth and back claws for some imaginary offense I’ve made. She’s also been known, while I’ve been bent over to pick something up or whatnot, to jump on my back and stay there for as long as she can hold on.
I can’t really judge these quirks. I myself have a few idiosyncrasies that many believe to be hints of a not completely sane individual and I can’t fault my cat for the same. But she does have one peculiarity in particular that I just can’t fathom.
She’s afraid of hygiene products.
Maybe calling her “afraid” is a bit harsh. Wary may be the more apt description. When I’m getting ready in the morning, Rebecca usually follows me around while I take my first set of medications, feed the rabbits and brush my teeth. Once I get in the shower, she usually retires back to bed and will merely stare at me with one bleary green eye when I return to the bedroom to dress. I haven’t figured out the specific trigger yet and it doesn’t always happen as Rebecca may be closer to sleep at some times than others, but somewhere between the antiperspirant, body lotion and perfume (as I said, I like to be sweet-smelling), she will take off in a streak of black fur not to be seen for the next ten to fifteen minutes.
I can’t imagine what her previous owners could have done to make Rebecca so afraid of a bottle of Strawberry Fizz glimmering body lotion but there must have been something to get such a consistent and conditioned response from my otherwise sedate companion. If I were truly a loving parent, I would perform my morning ritual elsewhere so as not trigger the slumbering psychosis with a bottle of Very Sexy perfume.
But, like the rest of us who harbor mild and relatively harmless mental conditions, she’s just going to have to deal with it.
Monday, May 12, 2008
A Night With Murphy
Have you ever had one of those nights when everything that can goes wrong?
Well, there were probably a couple more things that could have gone wrong for me the other night, but I have a hard time thinking of what else it could have been.
The evening had started well. I’d just gotten home from seeing “Iron Man” with a friend (a great, great film even if you’re not a comic fan — though that is coming from a comic book fan so maybe you want to get someone else’s opinion) and had just enough daylight to mow my front lawn so the neighbors wouldn’t think less of me for it being overgrown and overrun with weeds.
Rocking out to a loud mix from several System of a Down albums, I cut the grass in the front yard with not quite enough sunlight left to also mow the backyard. Only mildly disappointed, I wanted to go get a drink of water before putting the mower away.
Only to discover that I’d locked myself out of the house.
Annoyed with myself and the situation, I was fortunate that a) my neighbor was home so that I could use her phone and b) my friend with the backup key was available to bring it to me. Knowing it would take her 10-15 minutes to bring my keys to me, I decided to kill the time by cutting the grass in the backyard (thank goodness for floodlights).
When my friend arrived I was, understandably, overjoyed. Using her key, we opened the door — only to have my cat Rebecca bolt past us. I usually allow Rebecca a little bit of outside time whenever I can but I don’t like to let her out too near dusk as she gets it into her little furry head that she doesn’t have to come inside within a reasonable amount of time. Not wanting her to run off, we tried to corner and catch my insolent child only to give up and yell after her that I wasn’t waiting up to let her in.
After this embarassing outburst, my friend left and I went inside. I took one look at the dishes piled in the sink and the laundry still waiting to be folded and decided I couldn’t be bothered with any of it until after I’d had a shower.
I thoroughly enjoyed my shower, using the very relaxing and refreshing Eucalyptus Spearmint sugar scrub I got for Christmas. By the time I was done I felt all the better about my misadventures and was ready to tackle household chores before retiring to bed.
This in mind, I reached for the towel — only to have the towel bar fly off the wall at me and land with a resounding clang on the ceramic tile floor. I stared dumbly at the bar for a moment before catching sight of myself in the mirror and laughing, I hate to admit, a mite hysterically over everything.
Considering this the last that I could handle, I put on my jimjams, let the cat in, and went to bed.
It wasn’t until I was regaling anyone who would listen with my not-so-fun-filled evening that I realized that I’d had quite the encounter with The Law that night: Murphy’s Law.
Well, there were probably a couple more things that could have gone wrong for me the other night, but I have a hard time thinking of what else it could have been.
The evening had started well. I’d just gotten home from seeing “Iron Man” with a friend (a great, great film even if you’re not a comic fan — though that is coming from a comic book fan so maybe you want to get someone else’s opinion) and had just enough daylight to mow my front lawn so the neighbors wouldn’t think less of me for it being overgrown and overrun with weeds.
Rocking out to a loud mix from several System of a Down albums, I cut the grass in the front yard with not quite enough sunlight left to also mow the backyard. Only mildly disappointed, I wanted to go get a drink of water before putting the mower away.
Only to discover that I’d locked myself out of the house.
Annoyed with myself and the situation, I was fortunate that a) my neighbor was home so that I could use her phone and b) my friend with the backup key was available to bring it to me. Knowing it would take her 10-15 minutes to bring my keys to me, I decided to kill the time by cutting the grass in the backyard (thank goodness for floodlights).
When my friend arrived I was, understandably, overjoyed. Using her key, we opened the door — only to have my cat Rebecca bolt past us. I usually allow Rebecca a little bit of outside time whenever I can but I don’t like to let her out too near dusk as she gets it into her little furry head that she doesn’t have to come inside within a reasonable amount of time. Not wanting her to run off, we tried to corner and catch my insolent child only to give up and yell after her that I wasn’t waiting up to let her in.
After this embarassing outburst, my friend left and I went inside. I took one look at the dishes piled in the sink and the laundry still waiting to be folded and decided I couldn’t be bothered with any of it until after I’d had a shower.
I thoroughly enjoyed my shower, using the very relaxing and refreshing Eucalyptus Spearmint sugar scrub I got for Christmas. By the time I was done I felt all the better about my misadventures and was ready to tackle household chores before retiring to bed.
This in mind, I reached for the towel — only to have the towel bar fly off the wall at me and land with a resounding clang on the ceramic tile floor. I stared dumbly at the bar for a moment before catching sight of myself in the mirror and laughing, I hate to admit, a mite hysterically over everything.
Considering this the last that I could handle, I put on my jimjams, let the cat in, and went to bed.
It wasn’t until I was regaling anyone who would listen with my not-so-fun-filled evening that I realized that I’d had quite the encounter with The Law that night: Murphy’s Law.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Everybody's Friendly at Dawn
I’m an early riser, not entirely by choice (as discussed in previous posts and evident by the time stamps of my various ramblings), and I’ve noticed something interesting about the world that early in the morning.
Everybody’s friendly.
Well, alright, it might be a bit much to say that “everybody” is friendly that early in the morning but if you happen to be out and about in the wee, small hours of the morning, there’s a certain camaraderie shared with most everyone else you meet at that time. I specifically noticed this yesterday morning on my way to my hair appointment (thanks for noticing, by the way).
As I was leaving my neighborhood, there were mutual head nods and smiles exchanged with a friendly bicycler and “good mornings” shared with random folk milling about East Lansing taking care of their early errands.
Then, of course, there was the one stiff “hello” from one woman out walking her dog on campus who looked rather like she’d stepped in something her canine had just done. She’s the exception to the “everybody,” I suppose. Not everyone’s naturally friendly, not even at dawn.
Everybody’s friendly.
Well, alright, it might be a bit much to say that “everybody” is friendly that early in the morning but if you happen to be out and about in the wee, small hours of the morning, there’s a certain camaraderie shared with most everyone else you meet at that time. I specifically noticed this yesterday morning on my way to my hair appointment (thanks for noticing, by the way).
As I was leaving my neighborhood, there were mutual head nods and smiles exchanged with a friendly bicycler and “good mornings” shared with random folk milling about East Lansing taking care of their early errands.
Then, of course, there was the one stiff “hello” from one woman out walking her dog on campus who looked rather like she’d stepped in something her canine had just done. She’s the exception to the “everybody,” I suppose. Not everyone’s naturally friendly, not even at dawn.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Weather or Not
It got cold again in mid-Michigan. Not super cold, mind you, but cold enough that I’m glad I didn’t put away the sweaters yet.
I try very hard not to complain about the weather as it’s one of my favorite things about living in Michigan. I think I’d be terribly bored if it was always sunny or cloud-cover was predictable.
Still, even I can’t help but feel a little cheated that we’re back to 50-degree highs after last week’s absolutely beautiful 70s (and one eighty — that was a bit crazy). If it were still 60-70ish and rain I wouldn’t mind but, c’mon, 50 and sunny? That’s just a tease.
I won't complain though. Variety is the spice of life and every day is a tempting dish here in the mitten state.
I try very hard not to complain about the weather as it’s one of my favorite things about living in Michigan. I think I’d be terribly bored if it was always sunny or cloud-cover was predictable.
Still, even I can’t help but feel a little cheated that we’re back to 50-degree highs after last week’s absolutely beautiful 70s (and one eighty — that was a bit crazy). If it were still 60-70ish and rain I wouldn’t mind but, c’mon, 50 and sunny? That’s just a tease.
I won't complain though. Variety is the spice of life and every day is a tempting dish here in the mitten state.
Monday, April 28, 2008
How Does Your Garden Grow
There’s a special kind of magic that I am only now beginning to understand. It is a beautiful thing that affects all of us — whether practitioners or observers.
This spring, as my understanding of this craft grows, so does the joy I take in it.
The art of gardening has often eluded me despite how much I love the look of other people’s gardens. Flowers, trees, shrubs and resin figurines come together to create beauty in a sometimes ugly world and I want so to be a part of it.
I started small last year with the help of a friend, weeding and thinning out the garden I inherited when I bought my house. After removing much of the aggressive ground cover already there, I planted some annuals for instant color and some perennials that, in theory, would come to greet me every spring.
Throughout the summer I watched my garden, unable to stop myself from comparing it to the visions of loveliness and obvious hard work in those plots of beauty in the neighboring yards. By fall, I found my garden lacking and not entirely sure what it needed to be the happy space I so desired.
Then, in recent weeks, a wonderful thing happened. After clearing out the winter’s debris from my garden, little splashes of color began to emerge. It wasn’t much — three tulips — but it was enough to bring Spring to my heart. Next to these little rays of orange and red sunshine I could see the potential for more color as the days grow longer in the form of the various lilies (day and calla) and daisies planted last year.
I plan, again, to plant annuals for instant color and a few more perennials in my special space for even more joy and beauty next year but, for now, I feel that my garden is finally beginning to grow.
This spring, as my understanding of this craft grows, so does the joy I take in it.
The art of gardening has often eluded me despite how much I love the look of other people’s gardens. Flowers, trees, shrubs and resin figurines come together to create beauty in a sometimes ugly world and I want so to be a part of it.
I started small last year with the help of a friend, weeding and thinning out the garden I inherited when I bought my house. After removing much of the aggressive ground cover already there, I planted some annuals for instant color and some perennials that, in theory, would come to greet me every spring.
Throughout the summer I watched my garden, unable to stop myself from comparing it to the visions of loveliness and obvious hard work in those plots of beauty in the neighboring yards. By fall, I found my garden lacking and not entirely sure what it needed to be the happy space I so desired.
Then, in recent weeks, a wonderful thing happened. After clearing out the winter’s debris from my garden, little splashes of color began to emerge. It wasn’t much — three tulips — but it was enough to bring Spring to my heart. Next to these little rays of orange and red sunshine I could see the potential for more color as the days grow longer in the form of the various lilies (day and calla) and daisies planted last year.
I plan, again, to plant annuals for instant color and a few more perennials in my special space for even more joy and beauty next year but, for now, I feel that my garden is finally beginning to grow.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Gabbage Day
I realize yesterday was Earth Day and, as a lover of our Mother Earth, I should probably post something riveting about this special day for recognizing the things we can all do to take respectful care of the environment...but I’m green every day and Garbage Day only comes once a week.
Garbage Day, henceforth known as Gabbage Day because I’m kooky like that, was particularly important to me this week.
I don’t produce nearly enough waste to justify paying for a bin so any trash I do have ends up stored in the basement in city gabbage bags to be put out every other week. This isn’t usually a big deal unless, of course, I happen to clean out the refrigerator one weekend and then, because I’ve been insanely busy and a little hazy on mundane details like what day it is, I miss Gabbage Day.
As this is exactly what happened last week, I had to deal with an unwanted bag full of items already past their prime and just getting stinkier. In an effort to make its storage less offensive until the next gabbage pickup, I triple-bagged the waste and moved it out to the garage.
Of course, having contaminated the garage, my car had to stay in the driveway where she got sapped on and crapped on (by the maple tree and the birds, respectively — poor Hedwig).
This unfortunate chain of events was finally rectified this morning when I was able to put the refrigerator trash and its stench out on the curb with the season’s first batch of yard and other waste items.
There’s just something very nice about all of that stuff being taken away and my no longer having to deal with it. Very cleansing for the space and the soul, really. I know, I know, all that gabbage is going to a landfill somewhere and I do have an appropriate amount of guilt about that. I do. But there’s a part of me that’s just happy to have it gone.
Garbage Day, henceforth known as Gabbage Day because I’m kooky like that, was particularly important to me this week.
I don’t produce nearly enough waste to justify paying for a bin so any trash I do have ends up stored in the basement in city gabbage bags to be put out every other week. This isn’t usually a big deal unless, of course, I happen to clean out the refrigerator one weekend and then, because I’ve been insanely busy and a little hazy on mundane details like what day it is, I miss Gabbage Day.
As this is exactly what happened last week, I had to deal with an unwanted bag full of items already past their prime and just getting stinkier. In an effort to make its storage less offensive until the next gabbage pickup, I triple-bagged the waste and moved it out to the garage.
Of course, having contaminated the garage, my car had to stay in the driveway where she got sapped on and crapped on (by the maple tree and the birds, respectively — poor Hedwig).
This unfortunate chain of events was finally rectified this morning when I was able to put the refrigerator trash and its stench out on the curb with the season’s first batch of yard and other waste items.
There’s just something very nice about all of that stuff being taken away and my no longer having to deal with it. Very cleansing for the space and the soul, really. I know, I know, all that gabbage is going to a landfill somewhere and I do have an appropriate amount of guilt about that. I do. But there’s a part of me that’s just happy to have it gone.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Something Funny About Gas
A funny thing happened while I was paying bills yesterday.
Maybe it wasn’t particularly funny but I did laugh while making out my check to the gas company.
I know, with the continually rising price of natural gas, you’d think there would be very little reason to laugh at the February bill for heat and hot water.
But, you see, now that I own a house, I’m actually paying close to half of what I paid in my last apartment for gas.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved my apartment. It was the upper level of this 90-year-oldhouse downtown. It had all this character and beautiful woodwork and original windows — and no insulation to speak of.
As a result, while most everyone else is bemoaning their ever-increasing gas bill, I’m doing okay.
Maybe it wasn’t particularly funny but I did laugh while making out my check to the gas company.
I know, with the continually rising price of natural gas, you’d think there would be very little reason to laugh at the February bill for heat and hot water.
But, you see, now that I own a house, I’m actually paying close to half of what I paid in my last apartment for gas.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved my apartment. It was the upper level of this 90-year-oldhouse downtown. It had all this character and beautiful woodwork and original windows — and no insulation to speak of.
As a result, while most everyone else is bemoaning their ever-increasing gas bill, I’m doing okay.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Hey there, stalker
Do you ever have the feeling you’re being followed?
I do.
Recently I’ve been followed almost everywhere I go. In the car, the store, at home.
I can't seem to escape it.
I’m being followed by a song.
It's “Hey There Delilah” by the Plain White Ts. It’s a nice song. There’s nothing in particular about it that speaks to me aside from being a sweet gesture from a guy apparently involved in a long-distance relationship. It’s one of those songs I can't help but sing along to so I’m not really minding that it follows wherever I go...but it’s still a mite peculiar. I’m not the type to easily brush off coincidences so I'm sure there’s some meaning for the song to be so insistent on my hearing it lately. I’ve just yet to find it.
I do.
Recently I’ve been followed almost everywhere I go. In the car, the store, at home.
I can't seem to escape it.
I’m being followed by a song.
It's “Hey There Delilah” by the Plain White Ts. It’s a nice song. There’s nothing in particular about it that speaks to me aside from being a sweet gesture from a guy apparently involved in a long-distance relationship. It’s one of those songs I can't help but sing along to so I’m not really minding that it follows wherever I go...but it’s still a mite peculiar. I’m not the type to easily brush off coincidences so I'm sure there’s some meaning for the song to be so insistent on my hearing it lately. I’ve just yet to find it.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Wookit the Wabbit
[I fully expect and accept the teasing that will ensue as a result of this post]
With Easter on the way, I took one of my rabbits to a friend’s house this weekend to take some photos of her daughter with an adorably fluffy and holiday appropriate bunny rabbit.
I must say that, for his first photo shoot, Slim Jim was remarkably well behaved and, more importantly, so photogenic I just can’t stand it. As a result, I’ve posted his best-looking shots for the world to see.
http://web.mac.com/msjlross/iWeb/Site/SlimJim.html
If all goes well, he may be joined by Teyla (my other rabbit) for a session of photographic mayhem with another friend’s three daughters. Depending on how that goes I’m sure you’ll read all about it.
With Easter on the way, I took one of my rabbits to a friend’s house this weekend to take some photos of her daughter with an adorably fluffy and holiday appropriate bunny rabbit.
I must say that, for his first photo shoot, Slim Jim was remarkably well behaved and, more importantly, so photogenic I just can’t stand it. As a result, I’ve posted his best-looking shots for the world to see.
http://web.mac.com/msjlross/iWeb/Site/SlimJim.html
If all goes well, he may be joined by Teyla (my other rabbit) for a session of photographic mayhem with another friend’s three daughters. Depending on how that goes I’m sure you’ll read all about it.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Winter Blahs
I know everyone’s complaining about the weather here in mid-Michigan and how they’re sick of the snow and the cold, the gloom and the blah. As someone who, personally, loves winter and all it has to offer (warm sweaters, pure blankets of fluffy whiteness, slippery sidewalk challenges and drifts that are so much fun to plow through in my beloved Taurus) I hate to join the “I hate winter” bandwagon but even I have to admit I could use a change of scenery.
I’m not necessarily blaming winter for my current case of the blahs. For one thing, that’s unfair to Mother Nature and she deserves nothing but the utmost respect. For another, as stated above, I love winter. And, not to compound all the whining I’ve previously posted, this winter’s been a bit draining with the sinus infections and multiple injuries to my back (tumbling down the stairs aggravated by long and kind of stressful hours at my desk coupled with early morning shoveling sessions and additional falls from the slippery sidewalk challenges also mentioned above) and craziness. I’d had every intention of starting this year off on the right foot by working out regularly and making healthy food decisions but that’s been very difficult with not being well enough to work out and craving comfort foods. The lack of inactivity and intake of not-entirely-healthful sustenance have me feeling down about the previous progress I’d made and frustration because, as of right now, I’m still not quite up to snuff to resume my regular workout. In fact, I think I overdid the mad dancing that occurred in my kitchen this evening and am feeling my back protest to the hip shaking and bouncing about. (spoil sport.)
Now that the evenings are “longer,” maybe I can start walking on a regular basis — despite the cold — and regain some of those healthful tendencies I’d worked to establish before. Maybe the walking will help to relieve some of the stress which will take some of the abuse off my back which will then make me able to resume my Pilates and weight-lifting routines. Then, after the walking and the Pilates and the weights, I can work my way up to running on a regular basis. And, with this, maybe I’ll get back into the habit of more fruits and vegetables and fewer refined and processed treats. And then maybe, just maybe, I’ll kick those last couple pounds to my goal weight and maybe, on top of all that, reduce the number of meds I’m on for pain and the like.
Sounds nice, huh? Now if I just take all those “maybe”s and turn them into proper forms of “will” we’ll be in business.
I’m not necessarily blaming winter for my current case of the blahs. For one thing, that’s unfair to Mother Nature and she deserves nothing but the utmost respect. For another, as stated above, I love winter. And, not to compound all the whining I’ve previously posted, this winter’s been a bit draining with the sinus infections and multiple injuries to my back (tumbling down the stairs aggravated by long and kind of stressful hours at my desk coupled with early morning shoveling sessions and additional falls from the slippery sidewalk challenges also mentioned above) and craziness. I’d had every intention of starting this year off on the right foot by working out regularly and making healthy food decisions but that’s been very difficult with not being well enough to work out and craving comfort foods. The lack of inactivity and intake of not-entirely-healthful sustenance have me feeling down about the previous progress I’d made and frustration because, as of right now, I’m still not quite up to snuff to resume my regular workout. In fact, I think I overdid the mad dancing that occurred in my kitchen this evening and am feeling my back protest to the hip shaking and bouncing about. (spoil sport.)
Now that the evenings are “longer,” maybe I can start walking on a regular basis — despite the cold — and regain some of those healthful tendencies I’d worked to establish before. Maybe the walking will help to relieve some of the stress which will take some of the abuse off my back which will then make me able to resume my Pilates and weight-lifting routines. Then, after the walking and the Pilates and the weights, I can work my way up to running on a regular basis. And, with this, maybe I’ll get back into the habit of more fruits and vegetables and fewer refined and processed treats. And then maybe, just maybe, I’ll kick those last couple pounds to my goal weight and maybe, on top of all that, reduce the number of meds I’m on for pain and the like.
Sounds nice, huh? Now if I just take all those “maybe”s and turn them into proper forms of “will” we’ll be in business.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Sick and Tired
That’s what I’ve been all weekend: sick and tired. Based on the number of hours I’ve spent sleeping or vegged out on the couch with a plethra of science fiction movies, it’s a good thing I did not go out of town this weekend. For one thing, I probably would have been pretty miserable and made all my friends equally miserable (not to mention also put them at risk for catching whatever it is I have this time around).
The coughing seems to have dissipated to the briefest of episodes, the deluge of sinus drainage has slowed and my throat is no longer raspy and irritated (no more sexy voice, sorry). So...the good news is that I’m better, right? This concludes my fourth time being sick this winter — it’d be five if we included the cold I had back in September.
As I was fighting illness #3, a sinus infection, my doctor shed some light on an illusion I’d been living under. I’ve been thinking all this time with RA (see previous post) that I’ve got this overly ambitious, if somewhat misguided, immune system that was constantly on the offensive against healthy tissue as well as unhealthy infections. Apparently — and this came as quite the shocker — my immune system is just too busy attacking perfectly healthy parts of my body to be bothered with keeping me safe against disease.
How much does that suck?
First of all, the fact that I had no idea this was the case — that I have a deficient immune system — makes me feel pretty stupid. Part of me feels like I should have known this but, really, how should I know my overactive immune system means I basically don’t have much of an immune system?
Secondly, I’m more than a little concerned about what this means for the future. This winter has been hard with me being sick so often — and taking so long to recover each time. I know part of it, as posted in the past, is that I really don’t take care of myself like I should. I allow myself to become stressed about things that are, quite often, not all that important to anyone but me, I don’t allow myself to rest enough (again with the stress) and, even when I do rest, I feel guilty for doing it. These are all my own short-comings and I really need to work on them.
In addition, I’m going to be looking into ways to boost my immune system (yeah — hopefully I don’t make it stronger so it can just attack the good stuff with increased vigor). My sister is a wealth of nutritional knowledge and I’m hoping she can do some research for me. I’d like to talk with my D.O. and the rheumatologist as well to see what I can do that doesn’t necessarily mean more drugs. Plus, as soon as I’m well again for a sustained length of time, I’ll go back to exercising which will also help with the stress reduction and general sense of well-being.
The coughing seems to have dissipated to the briefest of episodes, the deluge of sinus drainage has slowed and my throat is no longer raspy and irritated (no more sexy voice, sorry). So...the good news is that I’m better, right? This concludes my fourth time being sick this winter — it’d be five if we included the cold I had back in September.
As I was fighting illness #3, a sinus infection, my doctor shed some light on an illusion I’d been living under. I’ve been thinking all this time with RA (see previous post) that I’ve got this overly ambitious, if somewhat misguided, immune system that was constantly on the offensive against healthy tissue as well as unhealthy infections. Apparently — and this came as quite the shocker — my immune system is just too busy attacking perfectly healthy parts of my body to be bothered with keeping me safe against disease.
How much does that suck?
First of all, the fact that I had no idea this was the case — that I have a deficient immune system — makes me feel pretty stupid. Part of me feels like I should have known this but, really, how should I know my overactive immune system means I basically don’t have much of an immune system?
Secondly, I’m more than a little concerned about what this means for the future. This winter has been hard with me being sick so often — and taking so long to recover each time. I know part of it, as posted in the past, is that I really don’t take care of myself like I should. I allow myself to become stressed about things that are, quite often, not all that important to anyone but me, I don’t allow myself to rest enough (again with the stress) and, even when I do rest, I feel guilty for doing it. These are all my own short-comings and I really need to work on them.
In addition, I’m going to be looking into ways to boost my immune system (yeah — hopefully I don’t make it stronger so it can just attack the good stuff with increased vigor). My sister is a wealth of nutritional knowledge and I’m hoping she can do some research for me. I’d like to talk with my D.O. and the rheumatologist as well to see what I can do that doesn’t necessarily mean more drugs. Plus, as soon as I’m well again for a sustained length of time, I’ll go back to exercising which will also help with the stress reduction and general sense of well-being.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Tammy vs Tommy
I'm sick again (which I'm sure I'll write about in whiny detail later) so I wasn't able to go out of town with my friends this weekend. The silver lining is that, since I'm staying home anyway, I can watch my god-daughter while her parents go up north.
My god-daughter, like my own children, nieces and nephews, is of the furry and four-legged variety. On our early-morning walk I was reminded how Jodee — that’s her name — embodies the canine cliché of stopping at every fire hydrant. My neighborhood, unlike her parents' street, has an awful lot of fire hydrants so we made a lot of stops. As I waited for Jodee to do her sniffing and things associated with stopping at a fire hydrant, I had to wonder what it is that compels her to live out the doggie stereotype.
There's the argument of nurture vs nature that psychologists, parents and whoever else has an opinion like to bring up when it comes to behavior. I can't imagine that Jodee, a former show dog, spent a lot of time hanging out around fire hydrants before being fostered by her current owners. So why is she so enthralled by them now?
For whatever reason, the nature/nurture question makes me think of how parents try to allow their children to make gender-centric choices on their own rather than simply giving Tammy a doll because she's a girl and Tommy a truck because he's a boy. I had three older brothers and I played with their toys and dreamt of blowing things up just as often as I played with Barbie and planned her dream wedding. Still, I think I ended up being more of a girly-girl than not (though I don’t cry often enough and enjoy action movies and toilet humor).
Anyway, back to the hydrants. The most logical answer is that all of the other dogs in my neighborhood, for whatever reason, all like to do their business around the fire hydrants and Jodee, with her large-mustached scnauz, is simply going to the places with the most stuff to sniff and investigate. But, again, I ask what is it that drew the dogs before Jodee to the hydrant in the first place? I'm sure if I looked around online I could find some canine psychologist with an answer but I'm not that bored yet. As it is, I'm off to rent movies for my convalescence — probably ones with stuff blowing up.
My god-daughter, like my own children, nieces and nephews, is of the furry and four-legged variety. On our early-morning walk I was reminded how Jodee — that’s her name — embodies the canine cliché of stopping at every fire hydrant. My neighborhood, unlike her parents' street, has an awful lot of fire hydrants so we made a lot of stops. As I waited for Jodee to do her sniffing and things associated with stopping at a fire hydrant, I had to wonder what it is that compels her to live out the doggie stereotype.
There's the argument of nurture vs nature that psychologists, parents and whoever else has an opinion like to bring up when it comes to behavior. I can't imagine that Jodee, a former show dog, spent a lot of time hanging out around fire hydrants before being fostered by her current owners. So why is she so enthralled by them now?
For whatever reason, the nature/nurture question makes me think of how parents try to allow their children to make gender-centric choices on their own rather than simply giving Tammy a doll because she's a girl and Tommy a truck because he's a boy. I had three older brothers and I played with their toys and dreamt of blowing things up just as often as I played with Barbie and planned her dream wedding. Still, I think I ended up being more of a girly-girl than not (though I don’t cry often enough and enjoy action movies and toilet humor).
Anyway, back to the hydrants. The most logical answer is that all of the other dogs in my neighborhood, for whatever reason, all like to do their business around the fire hydrants and Jodee, with her large-mustached scnauz, is simply going to the places with the most stuff to sniff and investigate. But, again, I ask what is it that drew the dogs before Jodee to the hydrant in the first place? I'm sure if I looked around online I could find some canine psychologist with an answer but I'm not that bored yet. As it is, I'm off to rent movies for my convalescence — probably ones with stuff blowing up.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Yeah...I’m a geek.
Allow me a moment, if you will, to be the geek that I am.
I’ve got an older season of Stargate: Atlantis playing in the background while I’m doing housework. As I was sorting the junk mail I became distracted by the appearance of one of my favorite supporting characters. For those of you who watch the show, it’s Chuck the technician (or Chucknician as I’ve seen him referred on GateWorld). Chuck more or less took the place of the character Peter Grogran, who was killed at the end of Season One. It’s actually the reminder of Peter’s untimely demise that prompted this post.
As sad as it is, the killing off of supporting characters is something that Stargate: Atlantis and its predecessor Stargate: SG-1 do just right. Unlike the "red shirts" (see Wikipedia for definition) who are always being sacrificed on Star Trek and it’s many offshoots, the Stargate franchise encourages you to develop a relationship with the supporting players. You may not see Chuck or Lt. Cadman or Grogan or Sgt. Bates on a regular basis, but you see them all enough to know them by sight and have a certain sense of familiarity so that when it’s time for someone to die to increase the dramatic effect, there’s actually some drama involved. As loyal as I’ve always been to Trek I can’t say I’ve ever been all that upset about any particular character’s death (not counting Spock, of course, as he’s a regular character and watching Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn always makes me cry). I’d have to say it’s the lack of development that goes into the supporting cast that makes the death of a red shirted security officer more joke than drama on Star Trek.
This post could get even nerdier — I was about to share a list of the characters I still mourn — but I’ve still got quite a bit of work to do and I wouldn’t want you to think any less of me than you probably already do.
I’ve got an older season of Stargate: Atlantis playing in the background while I’m doing housework. As I was sorting the junk mail I became distracted by the appearance of one of my favorite supporting characters. For those of you who watch the show, it’s Chuck the technician (or Chucknician as I’ve seen him referred on GateWorld). Chuck more or less took the place of the character Peter Grogran, who was killed at the end of Season One. It’s actually the reminder of Peter’s untimely demise that prompted this post.
As sad as it is, the killing off of supporting characters is something that Stargate: Atlantis and its predecessor Stargate: SG-1 do just right. Unlike the "red shirts" (see Wikipedia for definition) who are always being sacrificed on Star Trek and it’s many offshoots, the Stargate franchise encourages you to develop a relationship with the supporting players. You may not see Chuck or Lt. Cadman or Grogan or Sgt. Bates on a regular basis, but you see them all enough to know them by sight and have a certain sense of familiarity so that when it’s time for someone to die to increase the dramatic effect, there’s actually some drama involved. As loyal as I’ve always been to Trek I can’t say I’ve ever been all that upset about any particular character’s death (not counting Spock, of course, as he’s a regular character and watching Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn always makes me cry). I’d have to say it’s the lack of development that goes into the supporting cast that makes the death of a red shirted security officer more joke than drama on Star Trek.
This post could get even nerdier — I was about to share a list of the characters I still mourn — but I’ve still got quite a bit of work to do and I wouldn’t want you to think any less of me than you probably already do.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Seriously...Look out!
All right, pedestrians, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:
You may have the right of way but that doesn’t magically mean that I’m not going to hit you.
I’m not saying that I’m out to get hapless walkers, bikers and users of other modes of non-automotive transportation. I’m just saying that if you’re not looking where you’re going, looking where I’m going and not dressed appropriately for late-night excursions (ie: something bright and reflective, perhaps), there’s a good chance we’re going to meet in an unpleasant and sort of painful way.
I’ve been hit by a car before. It’s not nearly as much fun as they make it look on TV. Actually they don’t make it look all that much fun on TV. I have no idea why certain individuals seem to want to bounce off the hood of my car but they keep trying. It’s only through my own vigilance (which is sometimes lacking, I’ll admit, as I can be easily distracted while trying to find quality rock on the radio) have I managed to avert their many attempts.
So, as I’ve asked in the previous incarnation of the WATJ, please watch where you’re going. It’s in the best interest of everyone.
You may have the right of way but that doesn’t magically mean that I’m not going to hit you.
I’m not saying that I’m out to get hapless walkers, bikers and users of other modes of non-automotive transportation. I’m just saying that if you’re not looking where you’re going, looking where I’m going and not dressed appropriately for late-night excursions (ie: something bright and reflective, perhaps), there’s a good chance we’re going to meet in an unpleasant and sort of painful way.
I’ve been hit by a car before. It’s not nearly as much fun as they make it look on TV. Actually they don’t make it look all that much fun on TV. I have no idea why certain individuals seem to want to bounce off the hood of my car but they keep trying. It’s only through my own vigilance (which is sometimes lacking, I’ll admit, as I can be easily distracted while trying to find quality rock on the radio) have I managed to avert their many attempts.
So, as I’ve asked in the previous incarnation of the WATJ, please watch where you’re going. It’s in the best interest of everyone.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Slacky McSlackerson
Hello, everyone. It’s me again. She of the inconsistent posting. It’s been several weeks since you last heard from me and I know — I just know — you’ve been lost without me.
I, myself, have been a little lost lately.
I’m not sure what the problem is. I’ve just been in this funk on and off for the past couple of weeks. There’s no reason, really, it just keeps pulling me down and I’ve had a hard time shaking it off. As a friend asked today, “What do you possibly have not going for you right now to be upset about?”
And she’s right. Totally and completely right.
I have a good job that I love (even if I’m feeling a bit of pressure from several pending and important projects at the moment). I have plenty of friends — most of whom I can call on whenever and whatever need may arise. I have a mildly dysfunctional but completely lovable family. I have three wonderful children who happen to be furry and four-legged. I have a roof over my head and a car that laughs in the face of snow drifts (it’s more of a chuckle, really, but boy do we love winter driving).
So what’s my problem?
I love the snow and, despite obvious reasons, the cold so I can’t believe I’d have the winter blahs. I will admit that the lack of regular exercise (not counting early morning shoveling) has me feeling less than pleased with myself since I keep eating like I’m going to burn the calories later. And being sick for a good chunk of the past two months hasn’t been fun, either.
I’m usually such an upbeat (though, admittedly, acerbic and sarcastic) person and I’m starting to get more than a little annoyed with the downer I’ve become. I mean, seriously, how much wallowing can one person do?
Really? That much? I guess I’m not as bad off as I thought I was. That’s something, at least. Maybe if I focus on the fact that I’m not nearly as depressed or depressing as I could be it will make me feel better.
I’ll let you know.
I, myself, have been a little lost lately.
I’m not sure what the problem is. I’ve just been in this funk on and off for the past couple of weeks. There’s no reason, really, it just keeps pulling me down and I’ve had a hard time shaking it off. As a friend asked today, “What do you possibly have not going for you right now to be upset about?”
And she’s right. Totally and completely right.
I have a good job that I love (even if I’m feeling a bit of pressure from several pending and important projects at the moment). I have plenty of friends — most of whom I can call on whenever and whatever need may arise. I have a mildly dysfunctional but completely lovable family. I have three wonderful children who happen to be furry and four-legged. I have a roof over my head and a car that laughs in the face of snow drifts (it’s more of a chuckle, really, but boy do we love winter driving).
So what’s my problem?
I love the snow and, despite obvious reasons, the cold so I can’t believe I’d have the winter blahs. I will admit that the lack of regular exercise (not counting early morning shoveling) has me feeling less than pleased with myself since I keep eating like I’m going to burn the calories later. And being sick for a good chunk of the past two months hasn’t been fun, either.
I’m usually such an upbeat (though, admittedly, acerbic and sarcastic) person and I’m starting to get more than a little annoyed with the downer I’ve become. I mean, seriously, how much wallowing can one person do?
Really? That much? I guess I’m not as bad off as I thought I was. That’s something, at least. Maybe if I focus on the fact that I’m not nearly as depressed or depressing as I could be it will make me feel better.
I’ll let you know.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Oh so close
I must apologize to my faithful WATJ readers — both of you — for the lack of bloggage recently. I had promised you an update on my weight loss efforts close to two weeks ago and I’m sure your disappointment has been close to unbearable.
Or not.
My two-week Fat Flush went very well — until Day 14 when I got a sinus infection and promptly switched tactics to comfort food. This was disappointing to me because I was all set to do a third week of the FFP which, as much as I love the Fat Flush, is not the easiest of diets because it is quite strict. I really have to be in the right frame of mind to do it and do it right and I’m not sure when my next attempt will be. The sinus infection brought me low and I’m really only now getting back to 100% operating efficiency. Not counting all the shoveling I’ve done lately, I haven’t exercised in 10 days.
Even though I’m not doing the FFP now, I’m still being (somewhat) mindful of what I am eating. Ann Louise would not approve of the dairy and various carbohydrate sources but I’m still doing alright.
But I know what you really want to know. How did I do while I was on the FFP?
I lost eight pounds and about 14 inches from various trouble areas (abs, hips, thighs). Over the last 10 days of recovering from the sinus infection I did earn three pounds back but I’m less concerned with what the scale says at this point and more of how I feel. Though, ideally, I have another 5-8 pounds to my goal weight, I’m more interested with toning and shaping than poundage.
Despite the setback of the sinus infection, I’m more pleased than I can say to be where I am. I’ve not been this light since my sophomore year at MSU — y’know, the year I had the ulcer (the second best weight loss plan ever). I am wearing clothes that have sat in my closet since then — those clothes we all have that haunt us with promises of of “someday.” Some of these items I’m quite pleased to be able to get into and others I wonder what I was thinking the first time around.
So...that’s where we stand. As the weather improves I look forward to resuming my walking/running regiment, as well as continuing to do Pilates regularly and free weights, and be conscious of healthy food choices.
That said, I’m off to make breakfast. I’m leaning toward Raisin Bran Crunch with 2% milk (my little treat to myself and the cat in the “comfort food” column). Or maybe I’ll have an FFP-approved egg with veggies. Oh to have choices again...
Note: That part about an ulcer being the second best weight loss plan shouldn’t be taken as dieting advice. I really don’t recommend it. I can’t remember a time when I was more consistently miserable. I couldn’t eat. That depressed me. What cheers you up when you’re depressed? Oh yeah. Eating. It was a vicious cycle no one should have to experience.
Or not.
My two-week Fat Flush went very well — until Day 14 when I got a sinus infection and promptly switched tactics to comfort food. This was disappointing to me because I was all set to do a third week of the FFP which, as much as I love the Fat Flush, is not the easiest of diets because it is quite strict. I really have to be in the right frame of mind to do it and do it right and I’m not sure when my next attempt will be. The sinus infection brought me low and I’m really only now getting back to 100% operating efficiency. Not counting all the shoveling I’ve done lately, I haven’t exercised in 10 days.
Even though I’m not doing the FFP now, I’m still being (somewhat) mindful of what I am eating. Ann Louise would not approve of the dairy and various carbohydrate sources but I’m still doing alright.
But I know what you really want to know. How did I do while I was on the FFP?
I lost eight pounds and about 14 inches from various trouble areas (abs, hips, thighs). Over the last 10 days of recovering from the sinus infection I did earn three pounds back but I’m less concerned with what the scale says at this point and more of how I feel. Though, ideally, I have another 5-8 pounds to my goal weight, I’m more interested with toning and shaping than poundage.
Despite the setback of the sinus infection, I’m more pleased than I can say to be where I am. I’ve not been this light since my sophomore year at MSU — y’know, the year I had the ulcer (the second best weight loss plan ever). I am wearing clothes that have sat in my closet since then — those clothes we all have that haunt us with promises of of “someday.” Some of these items I’m quite pleased to be able to get into and others I wonder what I was thinking the first time around.
So...that’s where we stand. As the weather improves I look forward to resuming my walking/running regiment, as well as continuing to do Pilates regularly and free weights, and be conscious of healthy food choices.
That said, I’m off to make breakfast. I’m leaning toward Raisin Bran Crunch with 2% milk (my little treat to myself and the cat in the “comfort food” column). Or maybe I’ll have an FFP-approved egg with veggies. Oh to have choices again...
Note: That part about an ulcer being the second best weight loss plan shouldn’t be taken as dieting advice. I really don’t recommend it. I can’t remember a time when I was more consistently miserable. I couldn’t eat. That depressed me. What cheers you up when you’re depressed? Oh yeah. Eating. It was a vicious cycle no one should have to experience.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Give it another look
It’s always amazing how looking at something in a new light can completely change your feelings about it.
I was putting away the holiday decorations Saturday and was dismayed at how empty and the living room looked when I was done. I tried rearranging a few pieces in hopes of filling the void where all of my "joy"-themed trappings had been to no avail. Since it was getting late and I’m getting lame in my old age, I figured I’d try moving the furniture around in the morning to see if that helped.
The next morning, coming out of the bedroom to start my day with Ann Louise’s long life cocktail, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I’d done a better job than I’d thought the previous night and I actually liked the way the living room looked. Rather than looking empty from the lack of holiday decor it looked open and inviting — making me want to grab my library book and curl up under a warm blanket for the day.
I couldn’t do that, of course, because I had to go for a walk since I hadn’t gotten one in the day before — unless you count lugging bags around the mall — that’s quite the workout itself.
While I’d been at the mall, I decided to take my self-esteem in my hands and try to find a pair of interim jeans on clearance to tide me over until I reach my goal weight. Despite what the scale and tape measure have already told me about my weight loss goals, it’s been really hard to see the results for myself just by looking in the mirror. Maybe it’s because I see myself in my own mirror every day — ie: the same light — but standing in front of that, usually, unforgiving reflective surface in the dressing room I definitely saw the difference more clearly. I then enjoyed a couple of entirely vain moment preening in front of the mirror and feeling pretty good about myself.
This “whole new light” thing applies to so many things and I often forget to take advantage of it. Sometimes, as I’m struggling with something at work — usually any number of other things the computer does or does not do to my complete bafflement and utter frustration — I need to remember to take some time away from project. Chances are I’ll see the source of the problem that much more easily if I look at it with fresh eyes or after a calming breath.
Maybe if we all took a moment to view things in a new light we’d spend less time in the dark.
I was putting away the holiday decorations Saturday and was dismayed at how empty and the living room looked when I was done. I tried rearranging a few pieces in hopes of filling the void where all of my "joy"-themed trappings had been to no avail. Since it was getting late and I’m getting lame in my old age, I figured I’d try moving the furniture around in the morning to see if that helped.
The next morning, coming out of the bedroom to start my day with Ann Louise’s long life cocktail, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I’d done a better job than I’d thought the previous night and I actually liked the way the living room looked. Rather than looking empty from the lack of holiday decor it looked open and inviting — making me want to grab my library book and curl up under a warm blanket for the day.
I couldn’t do that, of course, because I had to go for a walk since I hadn’t gotten one in the day before — unless you count lugging bags around the mall — that’s quite the workout itself.
While I’d been at the mall, I decided to take my self-esteem in my hands and try to find a pair of interim jeans on clearance to tide me over until I reach my goal weight. Despite what the scale and tape measure have already told me about my weight loss goals, it’s been really hard to see the results for myself just by looking in the mirror. Maybe it’s because I see myself in my own mirror every day — ie: the same light — but standing in front of that, usually, unforgiving reflective surface in the dressing room I definitely saw the difference more clearly. I then enjoyed a couple of entirely vain moment preening in front of the mirror and feeling pretty good about myself.
This “whole new light” thing applies to so many things and I often forget to take advantage of it. Sometimes, as I’m struggling with something at work — usually any number of other things the computer does or does not do to my complete bafflement and utter frustration — I need to remember to take some time away from project. Chances are I’ll see the source of the problem that much more easily if I look at it with fresh eyes or after a calming breath.
Maybe if we all took a moment to view things in a new light we’d spend less time in the dark.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Rheum with a view
As if I don’t talk nearly enough about Rheumatoid Arthritis, I’m going to devote an entire post to it.
I was diagnosed with RA three years ago this past December. Previous to this I’d always been kind of whiny and achy in various spots, mostly my knees, and ignored by my doctor (not uncommon, many RA sufferers — who happen to mostly be women — go un- or misdiagnosed for years). When I got a real job with insurance again, my new doctor actually did listen to me when I complained about the various aches and pains and the fact that I was tired all the gosh darn time. Not to mention that I also packed on close to thirty pounds in less than four years.
She took the two-hour naps every afternoon and weight gain into consideration, ran some tests and discovered that my thyroid had slacked off and my metabolism had suffered as a result. A while later, when I mentioned the achy knees and various other parts that give me trouble, she theorized that I might have RA and sent me to a specialist.
RA is an auto-immune disease (of which there are about a dozen and, once you get one, chances are good that you’ll develop others) where your immune system is somehow convinced that connective tissue and other necessities of the joints and other body parts are invasive and need to be attacked and kicked out.
After being officially diagnosed and talking with the specialist and his physician’s assistant, several things started making sense. My thyroid, it turns out, was probably damaged by the RA (or Hashimoto’s thyroiditis which is another auto-immune disease and causes hypothyroidism). My cold hands are a result of Reynaud’s Phenomenon (or Secondary Reynaud’s — constricted blood flow to the outer extremities when exposed to cold or stress) which many RA sufferers develop. The achy joints, of course, are from cartilage the RA has ravaged.
As of now, I have RA damage/pain in my knees, elbows and, as mentioned, my thyroid and hands. My knees are definitely the worst off with my hands a very close second with being cold all of the time and experiencing cramping or spasms at the most inopportune times (the shampoo bottle and my foot have enjoyed several encounters early in the morning). Compared to most of my rheumatologist’s patients, I’m not all that bad off. I’m lucky that I’m young and was diagnosed (relatively) early to begin treating the disease. However, having RA, it’s entirely possible that things will only get worse with age (which is why I’m trying to get in shape now) and, as I said, once you have one auto-immune disorder you’re that much more likely to develop any number of others. Plus, the RA itself doesn’t necessarily stop with the cartilage in your joints when there are all sorts of other tissues in the body it can attack like the heart and lungs. Fortunately this is very rare.
To counteract the affects of RA, I take an anti-inflammatory almost every day and an anti-malarial agent. The anti-inflammatory keeps inflammation — and pain — at bay. Part of why I’m trying to lose weight is because the less weight on my knees, the fewer pills I’ll hopefully have to take for pain and inflammation. The anti-malarial pill, for reasons I don’t think anyone is really all that sure of, helps to slow the disease’s progress and, hopefully, prevents further damage. Oh, and of course, I take a hormone replacement to compensate for the vacation my thyroid took.
And that, my friends, is more information than you ever really wanted to know about Rheumatoid Arthritis. Just remember, I’m not a doctor — I don’t even play one on TV — and all the stuff above, while it sounds convincing, is based on what I’ve understood from the rheumatologist and research I’ve done on my own.
I was diagnosed with RA three years ago this past December. Previous to this I’d always been kind of whiny and achy in various spots, mostly my knees, and ignored by my doctor (not uncommon, many RA sufferers — who happen to mostly be women — go un- or misdiagnosed for years). When I got a real job with insurance again, my new doctor actually did listen to me when I complained about the various aches and pains and the fact that I was tired all the gosh darn time. Not to mention that I also packed on close to thirty pounds in less than four years.
She took the two-hour naps every afternoon and weight gain into consideration, ran some tests and discovered that my thyroid had slacked off and my metabolism had suffered as a result. A while later, when I mentioned the achy knees and various other parts that give me trouble, she theorized that I might have RA and sent me to a specialist.
RA is an auto-immune disease (of which there are about a dozen and, once you get one, chances are good that you’ll develop others) where your immune system is somehow convinced that connective tissue and other necessities of the joints and other body parts are invasive and need to be attacked and kicked out.
After being officially diagnosed and talking with the specialist and his physician’s assistant, several things started making sense. My thyroid, it turns out, was probably damaged by the RA (or Hashimoto’s thyroiditis which is another auto-immune disease and causes hypothyroidism). My cold hands are a result of Reynaud’s Phenomenon (or Secondary Reynaud’s — constricted blood flow to the outer extremities when exposed to cold or stress) which many RA sufferers develop. The achy joints, of course, are from cartilage the RA has ravaged.
As of now, I have RA damage/pain in my knees, elbows and, as mentioned, my thyroid and hands. My knees are definitely the worst off with my hands a very close second with being cold all of the time and experiencing cramping or spasms at the most inopportune times (the shampoo bottle and my foot have enjoyed several encounters early in the morning). Compared to most of my rheumatologist’s patients, I’m not all that bad off. I’m lucky that I’m young and was diagnosed (relatively) early to begin treating the disease. However, having RA, it’s entirely possible that things will only get worse with age (which is why I’m trying to get in shape now) and, as I said, once you have one auto-immune disorder you’re that much more likely to develop any number of others. Plus, the RA itself doesn’t necessarily stop with the cartilage in your joints when there are all sorts of other tissues in the body it can attack like the heart and lungs. Fortunately this is very rare.
To counteract the affects of RA, I take an anti-inflammatory almost every day and an anti-malarial agent. The anti-inflammatory keeps inflammation — and pain — at bay. Part of why I’m trying to lose weight is because the less weight on my knees, the fewer pills I’ll hopefully have to take for pain and inflammation. The anti-malarial pill, for reasons I don’t think anyone is really all that sure of, helps to slow the disease’s progress and, hopefully, prevents further damage. Oh, and of course, I take a hormone replacement to compensate for the vacation my thyroid took.
And that, my friends, is more information than you ever really wanted to know about Rheumatoid Arthritis. Just remember, I’m not a doctor — I don’t even play one on TV — and all the stuff above, while it sounds convincing, is based on what I’ve understood from the rheumatologist and research I’ve done on my own.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
A little cracked
It’s 5:30.
In the morning.
And I’m awake.
Isn’t that crazy?
It’s all Ann Louise’s fault. (Ann Louise is the genius behind the Fat Flush Plan discussed in a previous post.)
Part of the Fat Flush Plan is drinking the Long Life Cocktail which is unsweetened cranberry water mixed with ground flax seed. It’s a gritty drink to start off the morning but it’s a component of the detox portion of the diet and I don’t argue with Ann Louise (because it’s not like she’s going to argue back).
The thing about the cocktail is that it’s part of the cleansing process so you have to be careful when you take it if you’re on any medications. For me, that means I have to take it an hour before my first set of meds — the ones I take on an empty stomach and then wait an hour before I can take the second set which requires food.
Having to get up at 5:00 to start my morning with the LLC is actually quite nice. I get up, drink the cocktail, do a Pilates workout, spend some time on the internet updating my journal (another component of the FFP — journaling your food, exercise and thoughts while on the Plan), take care of the rabbits and the cat — all before 6:00. This also gives me some nice quiet time to clean the kitchen or whatever little household chore-y things there are to do.
The only drawback is that, as discussed in numerous posts, I don’t get nearly enough sleep. While following the Plan I tend to have more energy than usual so I’m not suffering too badly from a lack of sleep but getting only five or six hours of sleep is going to catch up with me eventually. Plus, Ann Louise stresses the importance of getting plenty of rest while on the FFP so she wouldn’t likely approve, either.
I did get a whole seven hours of sleep last night — which I usually consider a good night’s sleep. I’m really going to have to start forcing myself into bed by 10:00, if not earlier, if I’m going to continue to get up before the crack of dawn (hence this post’s title for those of you looking for the connection).
A note of Joy: It turns out Ann Louise could argue back with me if she really wanted. There’s a support forum on her Web site and it looks like she actually answers questions posted there. How cool is that?
In the morning.
And I’m awake.
Isn’t that crazy?
It’s all Ann Louise’s fault. (Ann Louise is the genius behind the Fat Flush Plan discussed in a previous post.)
Part of the Fat Flush Plan is drinking the Long Life Cocktail which is unsweetened cranberry water mixed with ground flax seed. It’s a gritty drink to start off the morning but it’s a component of the detox portion of the diet and I don’t argue with Ann Louise (because it’s not like she’s going to argue back).
The thing about the cocktail is that it’s part of the cleansing process so you have to be careful when you take it if you’re on any medications. For me, that means I have to take it an hour before my first set of meds — the ones I take on an empty stomach and then wait an hour before I can take the second set which requires food.
Having to get up at 5:00 to start my morning with the LLC is actually quite nice. I get up, drink the cocktail, do a Pilates workout, spend some time on the internet updating my journal (another component of the FFP — journaling your food, exercise and thoughts while on the Plan), take care of the rabbits and the cat — all before 6:00. This also gives me some nice quiet time to clean the kitchen or whatever little household chore-y things there are to do.
The only drawback is that, as discussed in numerous posts, I don’t get nearly enough sleep. While following the Plan I tend to have more energy than usual so I’m not suffering too badly from a lack of sleep but getting only five or six hours of sleep is going to catch up with me eventually. Plus, Ann Louise stresses the importance of getting plenty of rest while on the FFP so she wouldn’t likely approve, either.
I did get a whole seven hours of sleep last night — which I usually consider a good night’s sleep. I’m really going to have to start forcing myself into bed by 10:00, if not earlier, if I’m going to continue to get up before the crack of dawn (hence this post’s title for those of you looking for the connection).
A note of Joy: It turns out Ann Louise could argue back with me if she really wanted. There’s a support forum on her Web site and it looks like she actually answers questions posted there. How cool is that?
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Sometimes it’s okay to cheat
Not very often will you hear me say that.
It is not okay to cheat on your schoolwork.
It is not okay to cheat at board games.
It is not okay to cheat on your significant other.
It is not okay to cheat on your taxes.
The one time it is okay to cheat is on your diet — and I’m not just saying that because I cheated on mine today.
My sister Gina and I are doing a two-week run of the first phase of Ann Louise Gittleman’s Fat Flush Plan. The name sounds gross, I know, but the FFP is a detox/diet plan that is so totally effective and has helped me lose (and keep off) 40 pounds. I’ve still got another 10-15 to go until I reach my goal weight of 145/150 pounds (I’ll save you the trouble of doing the math and just admit that I topped out on my doctor’s scale at 202 three years ago) and I’m using the FFP as a good way to jump-start healthy eating and exercise habits after the holidays.
The FFP is pretty strict and not just about what you have to eliminate from you diet. There are certain things you have to add to your diet and daily routine for the results you want. Because the Plan is so strict, Gina and I have built cheating into it to help us stay on track. Getting one “naughty” item a week gives you something to look forward to as well as giving you some breathing room from the strict regiment of no carbs, dairy, refined sugar, etc. Really, in any diet, you have to allow yourself room to cheat a bit or else you’re going to get off track that much quicker because, let’s face it, we only have so much willpower and it’s too easy to say "well, I blew it so I might as well quit altogether" from one splurge on a chocolate covered PayDay Avalanche, bowl of ice cream or, as is most likely for me, a giant burrito from Qdoba.
Today’s cheat was a small Blizzard from Dairy Queen with Heath Bar and Butterfinger in it. It was so good I didn’t even feel all that guilty about it because I know I’m going to finish out the evening with the unsweetened cran-water and keep going for the eight days I have left of Phase One. I’ll be sure to tell you all about my success on January 15.
If you want to know more about the FFP, check out Ann Louise’s Web site.
It is not okay to cheat on your schoolwork.
It is not okay to cheat at board games.
It is not okay to cheat on your significant other.
It is not okay to cheat on your taxes.
The one time it is okay to cheat is on your diet — and I’m not just saying that because I cheated on mine today.
My sister Gina and I are doing a two-week run of the first phase of Ann Louise Gittleman’s Fat Flush Plan. The name sounds gross, I know, but the FFP is a detox/diet plan that is so totally effective and has helped me lose (and keep off) 40 pounds. I’ve still got another 10-15 to go until I reach my goal weight of 145/150 pounds (I’ll save you the trouble of doing the math and just admit that I topped out on my doctor’s scale at 202 three years ago) and I’m using the FFP as a good way to jump-start healthy eating and exercise habits after the holidays.
The FFP is pretty strict and not just about what you have to eliminate from you diet. There are certain things you have to add to your diet and daily routine for the results you want. Because the Plan is so strict, Gina and I have built cheating into it to help us stay on track. Getting one “naughty” item a week gives you something to look forward to as well as giving you some breathing room from the strict regiment of no carbs, dairy, refined sugar, etc. Really, in any diet, you have to allow yourself room to cheat a bit or else you’re going to get off track that much quicker because, let’s face it, we only have so much willpower and it’s too easy to say "well, I blew it so I might as well quit altogether" from one splurge on a chocolate covered PayDay Avalanche, bowl of ice cream or, as is most likely for me, a giant burrito from Qdoba.
Today’s cheat was a small Blizzard from Dairy Queen with Heath Bar and Butterfinger in it. It was so good I didn’t even feel all that guilty about it because I know I’m going to finish out the evening with the unsweetened cran-water and keep going for the eight days I have left of Phase One. I’ll be sure to tell you all about my success on January 15.
If you want to know more about the FFP, check out Ann Louise’s Web site.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
New Year's Snake
Soooo...2008 started off with a backed up drain in my basement today.
Being New Year’s Day, no plumber is going to come out without costing you at least an arm and, most likely, a leg. The super good news is that I've got this great group of friends I can count on to help me out. The good news for them, of course, is that my clogged drain was the perfect excuse to purchase a heavy duty drum auger (otherwise known as a plumber's snake or drain cleaner) that will likely have use for any number of our friends.
As for me, I’m apparently going to have to have the main drain of my house snaked every year as I have a big tree in my front yard that likes to entangle its roots around and in the pipe running out to the city sewer line. You’d think just cutting the tree down would help but a) I love the tree and the shade it provides (not too mention being ultra pretty when covered with snow — as seen at left in this pictures taken before I realized the issue in the basement) and b) I've been told that, after the cost of having a tree removed, the roots are going to just keep going for another decade or so anyway.
Despite not being the restful and yet productive day I'd had planned for kicking off the new year, I can’t complain. Well, I could, but it would just be petty. I had a problem and a solution was provided. It doesn’t get much better than that.
Being New Year’s Day, no plumber is going to come out without costing you at least an arm and, most likely, a leg. The super good news is that I've got this great group of friends I can count on to help me out. The good news for them, of course, is that my clogged drain was the perfect excuse to purchase a heavy duty drum auger (otherwise known as a plumber's snake or drain cleaner) that will likely have use for any number of our friends.
As for me, I’m apparently going to have to have the main drain of my house snaked every year as I have a big tree in my front yard that likes to entangle its roots around and in the pipe running out to the city sewer line. You’d think just cutting the tree down would help but a) I love the tree and the shade it provides (not too mention being ultra pretty when covered with snow — as seen at left in this pictures taken before I realized the issue in the basement) and b) I've been told that, after the cost of having a tree removed, the roots are going to just keep going for another decade or so anyway. Despite not being the restful and yet productive day I'd had planned for kicking off the new year, I can’t complain. Well, I could, but it would just be petty. I had a problem and a solution was provided. It doesn’t get much better than that.
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