Like most toddlers and young children, when Brendan was little he said and did things we thought we would never forget. Believe it or not, now that he is 19 we have forgotten a lot of those things. My mom, in her infinite wisdom, decided to write down some of those things and has kept the list in her Bible. Later this month when I go visit her I am going to have to check those things out!
In the meantime, here are some things I remember about that time:
"hanna bow go" was a hamburger
"ata gator" was both an elevator and the reptile that lives in Florida resembling a crocodile.
"stwaving" meant he was very, very hungry. Starving, even. You would have thought he grew up in New Yawk...or Bwoston.
I was always asking him who gave him permission to keep growing up. One day he came up with the perfect infallible answer, "Jesus did." How can you argue with that?
A little bit older...
Walking in the room while my mom was reading her Bible, "Are you sharpening your sword?"
The first time the church had communion after he had been baptized while listening to the sermon, he leans over to me and whispers, "When are we having God's Lunch?"
A bit older than that...
About 9 years old, Michael is deployed to Kuwait for the year, and I am admitted to the hospital with what turns out to be a large ovarian cyst. Fortunately my mom happens to be visiting, and when Brendan and she leave to go home the first night, he says forlornly, "Now they're both gone." BROKE.MY.HEART.
That's all I've got for now. I will have to keep thinking on it.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Monday, March 26, 2012
Toddler-Lite AKA Adventures in Kitten-Hood
I have decided having a kitten is like toddler-lite. I have said things in the last few months that as the mother of a 19 year old I would never say again.
Things like, “No you cannot chew on the charger.” Or “Stop chewing on the charger. It’s plugged in and you are going to get electrocuted.” Or “No, you can’t sleep on the kitchen counter.” Yes, I have actually had to “child proof” the myriad of chargers in this house. I’m just glad we didn’t have all of these chargers when I actually did have a toddler in the house. As it was, the human-child toddler managed to cut the cord to my sewing machine in half while I was less than 6 feet away from him looking at the hem I had just sewn.
I have also discovered that kittens are thieves. At least this one is. If it is shiny, it is fair game. Paper clips, necklaces, and don’t even get me started on twist ties. Twist tie makes must infuse the plastic with some sort of pheromone because if I open something with a twist tie anywhere in the package Pippa has stolen the thing before I have even realized it is there.
Don’t even expect to work on a project with small parts or needing a large workspace. Small parts? See above, they are gone. Need a large workspace? Well, she needs a nap, right now and right there! How can such a tiny thing take up so much room?
Oh, they are also sneaky, and they can move like the wind. I have opened closet or bedroom doors quickly slipped through and closed the door thinking I have thwarted her efforts to get in only to hear a forlorn mewing a few minutes later because she was trapped. What is she? Invisible? I didn’t even see her going in!
Also, like toddlers, she seems to think my food is her food. Why? She has food. Her very own food, with her very own dish, but that’s not good enough. She wants mine…Always. Did you know that cats like oatmeal? Me neither.
Of course, after she drives you completely crazy she comes up and curls her little self behind your crooked knees and makes herself a little nest and goes to sleep. They are so cute when they are sleeping.
Things like, “No you cannot chew on the charger.” Or “Stop chewing on the charger. It’s plugged in and you are going to get electrocuted.” Or “No, you can’t sleep on the kitchen counter.” Yes, I have actually had to “child proof” the myriad of chargers in this house. I’m just glad we didn’t have all of these chargers when I actually did have a toddler in the house. As it was, the human-child toddler managed to cut the cord to my sewing machine in half while I was less than 6 feet away from him looking at the hem I had just sewn.
I have also discovered that kittens are thieves. At least this one is. If it is shiny, it is fair game. Paper clips, necklaces, and don’t even get me started on twist ties. Twist tie makes must infuse the plastic with some sort of pheromone because if I open something with a twist tie anywhere in the package Pippa has stolen the thing before I have even realized it is there.
Don’t even expect to work on a project with small parts or needing a large workspace. Small parts? See above, they are gone. Need a large workspace? Well, she needs a nap, right now and right there! How can such a tiny thing take up so much room?
Oh, they are also sneaky, and they can move like the wind. I have opened closet or bedroom doors quickly slipped through and closed the door thinking I have thwarted her efforts to get in only to hear a forlorn mewing a few minutes later because she was trapped. What is she? Invisible? I didn’t even see her going in!
Also, like toddlers, she seems to think my food is her food. Why? She has food. Her very own food, with her very own dish, but that’s not good enough. She wants mine…Always. Did you know that cats like oatmeal? Me neither.
Of course, after she drives you completely crazy she comes up and curls her little self behind your crooked knees and makes herself a little nest and goes to sleep. They are so cute when they are sleeping.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Okay, I Admit It. I Was Wrong
As most of America knows, several years ago Swiffer put out a dusting product. Most everyone knows this because they put out some pretty cute commercials that were played on every television show known to man.
I had tried the Swiffer sweepers, and I wasn’t all that impressed. I preferred my microfiber mop, and still do. For dusting I use an old fashioned felt like dust rag. I have also used microfiber, but it seemed to push the dust around more than anything. I just didn’t see the use of a product that just creates more waste, and ends up costing me money to replace instead of just washing.
Then I moved into this house of windows-- lots and lots of windows covered by lots and lots of blinds. Dusting with a cloth just took up too much time, the feather duster didn’t work well, and the microfiber over the finger-like extensions designed to go between the blinds just plain took too long. By the time I was finished with one set of blinds I was DONE!
As I was walking through the aisles of the grocery store, I spied the Swiffer dusters. The same dusters I have been scoffing at since they came out. Now, however, I was desperate. I can’t stand seeing the dust on the blinds, and I can’t stand dusting them, so I decided to give them a shot.
The next night I tried them. I have to admit, my expectations were low, very low. Well, let me tell you…these things are AWESOME! I was able to dust all of my blinds in my living room and dining room, 8 sets, as well as, all of the furniture with one Swiffer thingie (<
I had tried the Swiffer sweepers, and I wasn’t all that impressed. I preferred my microfiber mop, and still do. For dusting I use an old fashioned felt like dust rag. I have also used microfiber, but it seemed to push the dust around more than anything. I just didn’t see the use of a product that just creates more waste, and ends up costing me money to replace instead of just washing.
Then I moved into this house of windows-- lots and lots of windows covered by lots and lots of blinds. Dusting with a cloth just took up too much time, the feather duster didn’t work well, and the microfiber over the finger-like extensions designed to go between the blinds just plain took too long. By the time I was finished with one set of blinds I was DONE!
As I was walking through the aisles of the grocery store, I spied the Swiffer dusters. The same dusters I have been scoffing at since they came out. Now, however, I was desperate. I can’t stand seeing the dust on the blinds, and I can’t stand dusting them, so I decided to give them a shot.
The next night I tried them. I have to admit, my expectations were low, very low. Well, let me tell you…these things are AWESOME! I was able to dust all of my blinds in my living room and dining room, 8 sets, as well as, all of the furniture with one Swiffer thingie (<
Friday, March 2, 2012
Fibro and Fitness Friday
The purpose of these posts is to document my journey with Fibromyalgia. I hope to see improvement over time that might go unnoticed in day to day living.
OK, so I managed to get my rear in gear and get to the gym every day this week, and by every day I mean Monday-Friday because we all know that Saturday and Sunday are bonus days. I hope to get myself to the gym at least on Saturday for a light workout. Frankly, my workouts this week have been lacking. I put in the time, but I just didn’t feel good about them. Part of that could be because I am going through a bit of a flare right now.
This week I am still struggling with my foot hurting which causes me to have to concentrate more on how to position foot not only so my foot makes it through my workout, but so that I don’t end up hurting my knees by walking funny.
The Fibro thing that is all up in my face this week is fatigue. I feel like I could sleep 20 hours a day. I don’t, but I think I could. I have stopped using 5 hour energy drinks to make it through my workouts, but I think maybe I could keep them on hand for weeks like this. I just wish they didn’t have Splenda in them. I really, really don’t like Splenda. It has a terrible taste to it. For all of you who can’t taste it—I don’t like you anymore. ;P
Fitness—like I said I managed to get to the gym, but I didn’t do my stairs. I did get Week 4 of couch to 5K done. It was rough. I don’t know whose brilliant idea it was to try to increase my speed on the elliptical by completing this program, but I’m sure it wasn’t mine. At least it wasn’t sane me. It might have been crazy me.
So, Couch to 5K on the elliptical MWF, regular elliptical on TTH, and 45-85 minutes on the treadmill Tuesday-Friday, and the recumbent bike for 65 minutes on Monday. My goal for next week is to continue with Couch to 5K, and to mix it up a bit more with the bike and treadmill. I also want to get back into my stairs and rebounder at home.
As far as Fibro goes I want to research ways to combat the fatigue. Honestly, the fatigue kicks my butt every time!
OK, so I managed to get my rear in gear and get to the gym every day this week, and by every day I mean Monday-Friday because we all know that Saturday and Sunday are bonus days. I hope to get myself to the gym at least on Saturday for a light workout. Frankly, my workouts this week have been lacking. I put in the time, but I just didn’t feel good about them. Part of that could be because I am going through a bit of a flare right now.
This week I am still struggling with my foot hurting which causes me to have to concentrate more on how to position foot not only so my foot makes it through my workout, but so that I don’t end up hurting my knees by walking funny.
The Fibro thing that is all up in my face this week is fatigue. I feel like I could sleep 20 hours a day. I don’t, but I think I could. I have stopped using 5 hour energy drinks to make it through my workouts, but I think maybe I could keep them on hand for weeks like this. I just wish they didn’t have Splenda in them. I really, really don’t like Splenda. It has a terrible taste to it. For all of you who can’t taste it—I don’t like you anymore. ;P
Fitness—like I said I managed to get to the gym, but I didn’t do my stairs. I did get Week 4 of couch to 5K done. It was rough. I don’t know whose brilliant idea it was to try to increase my speed on the elliptical by completing this program, but I’m sure it wasn’t mine. At least it wasn’t sane me. It might have been crazy me.
So, Couch to 5K on the elliptical MWF, regular elliptical on TTH, and 45-85 minutes on the treadmill Tuesday-Friday, and the recumbent bike for 65 minutes on Monday. My goal for next week is to continue with Couch to 5K, and to mix it up a bit more with the bike and treadmill. I also want to get back into my stairs and rebounder at home.
As far as Fibro goes I want to research ways to combat the fatigue. Honestly, the fatigue kicks my butt every time!
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Wanna Know Why Military Doctors Have a Bad Name?
I have had a love hate relationship with my many doctors over the years. I think it would help if I could have the same doctor, but since I am a lifelong military dependent, that is not likely to happen anytime soon. In fact, here you don’t even have the choice to get a doctor downtown. I would like to know why in its infinite wisdom did Tricare assign me a new PCM out of the blue, but left my son with his old doctor? The doctor he has a serious personality conflict with, but I get along with just fine. It’s like they said, “Hmmmm. She has all kinds of things wrong with her. She has her own pharmacy in her house. Let’s use her as a test case for all new doctors/PA’s and move her all over the place. She couldn’t possible benefit from continuity of care.” And then…” Hmmm. 18 year old boy whose biggest problem are his injuries. Boring. We will just leave him where he is.”
Case in point: I went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago for my tarsal tunnel. Tarsal tunnel is like carpal tunnel, except it is in your foot and ankle area, and it hurts, a lot. Since I have fibromyalgia, if I say I hurt…I hurt! Since I was there I decided to combine appointments, and get my refills for my medications renewed at the same time. This just might have been a mistake!
I went to the doctor hoping to get some relief for my poor, poor foot that I am seriously considering murdering. I think if I cut it off it would hurt less. Since I have been doing super good at going to the gym, my foot is rebelling. Rebelling. Good word. Maybe I don’t need to murder it. Maybe I can just ground it. Anyway, I was hoping, hoping, hoping to get some advice about my foot because if you look up tarsal tunnel on the internet there is not a lot there. There is a ton about plantar fasciitis, but since they are 2 different things I wanted to make sure I would not further aggravate my foot by using the wrong technique.
This appointment was with a new P.A. I don’t know why they gave me a new PCM since I was specifically put with someone that was supposed to be a good internist because of my Fibromyalgia and PCOS, etc., but they did. This new P.A. has a one track mind. She was friendly enough, but all she cared about was renewing my meds and running blood work to make sure my meds weren’t harming me. This is great. I want her to care about that, but considering I can’t hardly walk without shooting, sharp pains, I would also like her to care about that, too.
I had to pull every bit of information about my foot out of her like detective in an interrogation room. She didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, but one good thing that she might have told me was mentioned in the paper on (believe it or not) plantar fasciitis. The paper said to stop doing whatever it is that is aggravating the foot. Since I did tell the P.A. that I had been (am) going to the gym for an hour and a half to two hours a day five days a week, that might have been a really good thing for her to mention.
But! That was not the main concern I had about this visit. The main concern? I went in for my foot, and she never even looked at my foot. Not once. This does not make me feel very confident in the level of care I receive!!
Case in point: I went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago for my tarsal tunnel. Tarsal tunnel is like carpal tunnel, except it is in your foot and ankle area, and it hurts, a lot. Since I have fibromyalgia, if I say I hurt…I hurt! Since I was there I decided to combine appointments, and get my refills for my medications renewed at the same time. This just might have been a mistake!
I went to the doctor hoping to get some relief for my poor, poor foot that I am seriously considering murdering. I think if I cut it off it would hurt less. Since I have been doing super good at going to the gym, my foot is rebelling. Rebelling. Good word. Maybe I don’t need to murder it. Maybe I can just ground it. Anyway, I was hoping, hoping, hoping to get some advice about my foot because if you look up tarsal tunnel on the internet there is not a lot there. There is a ton about plantar fasciitis, but since they are 2 different things I wanted to make sure I would not further aggravate my foot by using the wrong technique.
This appointment was with a new P.A. I don’t know why they gave me a new PCM since I was specifically put with someone that was supposed to be a good internist because of my Fibromyalgia and PCOS, etc., but they did. This new P.A. has a one track mind. She was friendly enough, but all she cared about was renewing my meds and running blood work to make sure my meds weren’t harming me. This is great. I want her to care about that, but considering I can’t hardly walk without shooting, sharp pains, I would also like her to care about that, too.
I had to pull every bit of information about my foot out of her like detective in an interrogation room. She didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, but one good thing that she might have told me was mentioned in the paper on (believe it or not) plantar fasciitis. The paper said to stop doing whatever it is that is aggravating the foot. Since I did tell the P.A. that I had been (am) going to the gym for an hour and a half to two hours a day five days a week, that might have been a really good thing for her to mention.
But! That was not the main concern I had about this visit. The main concern? I went in for my foot, and she never even looked at my foot. Not once. This does not make me feel very confident in the level of care I receive!!
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Fibro Friday Revisited
Ok, so I have totally, totally failed at Fibro Friday. Unless Fridays only come like twice a year in which case I have totally ROCKED Fibro Friday, and you’re welcome! Just in case Fridays come more often, though, I am here to say I am going to give it another shot.
I am going to change up my original plan, though, and call it Fibro and Fitness Friday. Since the beginning of the year I have been doing really well with going to the gym and watching what I eat with the exception of 3 days this week where I let illness, school stress and the stress of my husband getting a lung biopsy get the better of me. I believe if it had been one or the other or even if illness was removed from the equation I would have done better. So, anyway, since I have been doing well on the fitness area, I am going to add it in as added incentive to get my rear in gear.
Some things I have learned about my fibro since I last wrote:
1. PMS week is an especially vulnerable time. I often have flares this week.
2. The flare related back pain I get has been greatly reduced since taking on a regular workout schedule.
3. Sometimes my flares take on flu like symptoms right down to a sore throat, coughing and sneezing. (This is not the case with this cold, though, since EVERYONE in my house has it.)
4. If I start out slowly, I can work up to quite the workout—right now I am at 25-35 minutes on the elliptical and 60-85 minutes on the treadmill every day.
5. I really, really need to listen to my body. This I am not so good at. (I know you are shocked!)
So, here goes! I am going to give this another shot (not with a needle, I hate those).
Oh, and yes, I know it is Saturday and not Friday, but, you know, Fibro and Fitness Saturday just doesn’t have the cool alliteration that Fibro and Fitness Friday does. Besides, I wouldn’t want to accidently get all perfect with this at once, now would I?
I am going to change up my original plan, though, and call it Fibro and Fitness Friday. Since the beginning of the year I have been doing really well with going to the gym and watching what I eat with the exception of 3 days this week where I let illness, school stress and the stress of my husband getting a lung biopsy get the better of me. I believe if it had been one or the other or even if illness was removed from the equation I would have done better. So, anyway, since I have been doing well on the fitness area, I am going to add it in as added incentive to get my rear in gear.
Some things I have learned about my fibro since I last wrote:
1. PMS week is an especially vulnerable time. I often have flares this week.
2. The flare related back pain I get has been greatly reduced since taking on a regular workout schedule.
3. Sometimes my flares take on flu like symptoms right down to a sore throat, coughing and sneezing. (This is not the case with this cold, though, since EVERYONE in my house has it.)
4. If I start out slowly, I can work up to quite the workout—right now I am at 25-35 minutes on the elliptical and 60-85 minutes on the treadmill every day.
5. I really, really need to listen to my body. This I am not so good at. (I know you are shocked!)
So, here goes! I am going to give this another shot (not with a needle, I hate those).
Oh, and yes, I know it is Saturday and not Friday, but, you know, Fibro and Fitness Saturday just doesn’t have the cool alliteration that Fibro and Fitness Friday does. Besides, I wouldn’t want to accidently get all perfect with this at once, now would I?
I'm so, so sorry
A few months ago, September 1st to be exact, we closed on schedule for the house I was so panicky about. The last few months have been spent moving in and painting and planning and painting and yard work and painting. And did I mention painting? We have painted almost every room in the house, and we love it!
Part of the fun has been planning all the things we want to do to make the house ours. This is something we have never been able to do since we have always lived either in base housing or rentals near the base where we lived. Now that we have our own home we have had a blast doing whatever we want to our home.
There are many things we would like to do, and nothing we have to do because the man who built this house did a great job. We want to do things like finish the basement, put up and backsplash and turn the second kitchen into a den/study. Yes, you read that right. We have 2 kitchens. Right next to each other. The other weird thing is that off of that second kitchen there is a bathroom/laundry room that has two doors… one into the kitchen, and one—Into the master bathroom. So, side by side are 2 kitchens and 2 bathrooms.
Today, while contemplating my lack of a broom closet it occurred to me that the space behind the door connecting the 2 bathrooms in the master bathroom would make a great broom closet. Right off of the laundry. We would need to turn the regular door into a pocket door, and half a wall built, but I think it would be perfect. My son, however, not so much. Guess why. No really. Guess why my 18 year old son does not think I should have a broom closet built…Money. He thinks it would be a waste of money. This is my son who all through high school when talking about what kind of car he wants did not talk about some fast sports car or a powerful, cool truck. All he cared about was that the car had good gas mileage. Really. I think my son has been possessed by a 45 year old CPA.
I write all of this to apologize. I sincerely apologize to the future Mrs. Brendan. If you want to do something that is beyond what is actually needed, really needed, not just a convenience or nice looking, you are going to have your work cut out for you. On the bright side, he will probably be a millionaire.
Part of the fun has been planning all the things we want to do to make the house ours. This is something we have never been able to do since we have always lived either in base housing or rentals near the base where we lived. Now that we have our own home we have had a blast doing whatever we want to our home.
There are many things we would like to do, and nothing we have to do because the man who built this house did a great job. We want to do things like finish the basement, put up and backsplash and turn the second kitchen into a den/study. Yes, you read that right. We have 2 kitchens. Right next to each other. The other weird thing is that off of that second kitchen there is a bathroom/laundry room that has two doors… one into the kitchen, and one—Into the master bathroom. So, side by side are 2 kitchens and 2 bathrooms.
Today, while contemplating my lack of a broom closet it occurred to me that the space behind the door connecting the 2 bathrooms in the master bathroom would make a great broom closet. Right off of the laundry. We would need to turn the regular door into a pocket door, and half a wall built, but I think it would be perfect. My son, however, not so much. Guess why. No really. Guess why my 18 year old son does not think I should have a broom closet built…Money. He thinks it would be a waste of money. This is my son who all through high school when talking about what kind of car he wants did not talk about some fast sports car or a powerful, cool truck. All he cared about was that the car had good gas mileage. Really. I think my son has been possessed by a 45 year old CPA.
I write all of this to apologize. I sincerely apologize to the future Mrs. Brendan. If you want to do something that is beyond what is actually needed, really needed, not just a convenience or nice looking, you are going to have your work cut out for you. On the bright side, he will probably be a millionaire.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Excuse Me...I'm Sick, Not You!
Warning: This post is a big whinefest. I blame lack of oxygen due to not being able to breathe.
Why is it that whenever I get sick everyone in my house also claims to be sick? I think they are jealous. I don't know why they are jealous, but they are jealous.
I started feeling bad about 3 nights ago with a head cold. Well I thought it was a head cold until I went to the gym yesterday morning and then tried to cough up a lung when I got home. That is when my son told me, "I think you should have stayed home." Yes, son, good thing you are here because I never would have figured that one out. Of course, he had to say this every time I started in on a coughing fit. Stop rubbing it in already! I know. I am a stubborn, stubborn woman.
I have my reasons for going, though. I am finally into a good routine, and if I break it I am afraid I will not get started again. Don't worry, I was very careful to clean every surface with antibacterial wipes before I left, and, really, I really did think it was just a head cold or maybe even allergies at the time.
Anyway, back to everyone else suddenly deciding they are sick. Last night Michael comes home from work, and tells me I made him sick. His eyes had been running all day. Um...NO! I did not make you sick it hasn't been enough time for me to have made you sick. Besides, haven't you learned the rule about only one person being allowed to be sick at a time? It's my turn. You have to feel sorry for me! It is critical to my recovery! Seriously, pity, it ranks right up there with chicken soup. (Harrumph!)
Then today I suggest Michael and Brendan go out for Chinese food, and I will eat the aforementioned chicken soup. Michael is all over that one, except now Brendan says he doesn't feel well either. Why can those two NOT follow the rules?! I said I am the only one allowed to be sick. You have to pick a different time. Do I need to start a calendar? Everyone can just mark their "to be sick" days on the calendar just like vacation time at work. It would be much more convenient for me. I, myself, will choose Oct 32nd in the year 2382. I think that will give me sufficient time to die first.
Then again, maybe I will still be sick in 2382. After all, I am not getting my prescribed pity here. I may have to hold a class for them. "How to Properly Feel Sorry for Your Wife and Mother When She is Sick". ;P
Why is it that whenever I get sick everyone in my house also claims to be sick? I think they are jealous. I don't know why they are jealous, but they are jealous.
I started feeling bad about 3 nights ago with a head cold. Well I thought it was a head cold until I went to the gym yesterday morning and then tried to cough up a lung when I got home. That is when my son told me, "I think you should have stayed home." Yes, son, good thing you are here because I never would have figured that one out. Of course, he had to say this every time I started in on a coughing fit. Stop rubbing it in already! I know. I am a stubborn, stubborn woman.
I have my reasons for going, though. I am finally into a good routine, and if I break it I am afraid I will not get started again. Don't worry, I was very careful to clean every surface with antibacterial wipes before I left, and, really, I really did think it was just a head cold or maybe even allergies at the time.
Anyway, back to everyone else suddenly deciding they are sick. Last night Michael comes home from work, and tells me I made him sick. His eyes had been running all day. Um...NO! I did not make you sick it hasn't been enough time for me to have made you sick. Besides, haven't you learned the rule about only one person being allowed to be sick at a time? It's my turn. You have to feel sorry for me! It is critical to my recovery! Seriously, pity, it ranks right up there with chicken soup. (Harrumph!)
Then today I suggest Michael and Brendan go out for Chinese food, and I will eat the aforementioned chicken soup. Michael is all over that one, except now Brendan says he doesn't feel well either. Why can those two NOT follow the rules?! I said I am the only one allowed to be sick. You have to pick a different time. Do I need to start a calendar? Everyone can just mark their "to be sick" days on the calendar just like vacation time at work. It would be much more convenient for me. I, myself, will choose Oct 32nd in the year 2382. I think that will give me sufficient time to die first.
Then again, maybe I will still be sick in 2382. After all, I am not getting my prescribed pity here. I may have to hold a class for them. "How to Properly Feel Sorry for Your Wife and Mother When She is Sick". ;P
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Still Leaning! I Hope I Don't Fall Over!!
Once again, it has been a while since I have updated. To say life is a bit crazy right now would be an understatement…Well, not life, per say, but my mind’s handling of life. In the last four months Michael has retired from active duty service, Brendan has graduated high school, I went to visit family, Michael was hired in his “new” civilian career, Brendan chose to move with us (YAY!), we moved from a southernmost state to a northern state, AND we unexpectedly started house hunting an entire year earlier than we had planned. It is the house hunting that is going to be the death of me. Really. I should have a defibrillator on hand. I already have certified user on hand-just need the machine.
We thought when we started all of this that being preapproved meant things would go quickly. It may be going quickly, but if this is quickly I sure would hate to see what happens if you start all of this without pre-approval.
After about 4 weeks of open houses mostly in the rain, we found our house. Only I am a big chicken, so after 2 more weeks and many more houses…also mostly in the rain, we put in an offer on the house. Seller countered, we countered, seller agrees! Yay! We are done, we own a house. Yeah, not so much. You know how on HGTV, when the universe aligns, the angels sing, and the buyers and sellers agree to terms the always say (I’m talking to you Sandra!) “Congratulations, you bought a house!”? Well, they lied. That is really only the beginning…or the end of the prologue –you decide. Because now enters the antagonist of our story…the mortgage broker.
The mortgage broker gets your hopes up, tells you things will be done within 2 weeks, and then surreptitiously sends you a 42 page document in your email for you to review, fill out, sign, scan and return…right away. Right away, so you can wait. And wait, and wait. Your 2 week time frame comes and goes and then said mortgage broker goes on vacation. VACATION. Can we sue for Prozac?
Then, like a ton of bricks, you learn the mortgage broker is not the true antagonist, he is merely a red herring. Enter: The Underwriter (insert evil laugh here). The underwriters must have done really, really well in their Critical Thinking class because their entire purpose in life is to take every branch in a person’s financial life, and see how many kinds of documentation proving the EXACT SAME THING they can come up with to request. Do they ask for all of this at one time? No, that would be too easy. Perhaps they think we won’t notice how redundant their requests are if they space them out. But guess what? I did really well in my Critical Thinking course as well, and I am on to them. Yep, I am positive they work for the government, or Satan.
So here we sit, VA appraisal is in (Another government scam, by the way. Why am I paying what will be at least $625 for an appraisal that protects the government and not me?!), All of our paperwork is in, and all we can do is wait…again, and closing is in just 3 weeks. Before waiting a month for the underwriters and appraiser to turn in their paperwork that was supposed to take 2 weeks, I would have thought, “Wow! 3 weeks we have time to spare!” Not so much now. Now it is more like, “Three weeks! I hope we close on time!” On time being before I need to use that defibrillator!
Oh, and remember the part about it raining almost every time we went house hunting? Well, if you have a drought in your area for a nominal fee and travel expenses we will go to open houses in your area. Be sure to book soon. Slots are limited.
We thought when we started all of this that being preapproved meant things would go quickly. It may be going quickly, but if this is quickly I sure would hate to see what happens if you start all of this without pre-approval.
After about 4 weeks of open houses mostly in the rain, we found our house. Only I am a big chicken, so after 2 more weeks and many more houses…also mostly in the rain, we put in an offer on the house. Seller countered, we countered, seller agrees! Yay! We are done, we own a house. Yeah, not so much. You know how on HGTV, when the universe aligns, the angels sing, and the buyers and sellers agree to terms the always say (I’m talking to you Sandra!) “Congratulations, you bought a house!”? Well, they lied. That is really only the beginning…or the end of the prologue –you decide. Because now enters the antagonist of our story…the mortgage broker.
The mortgage broker gets your hopes up, tells you things will be done within 2 weeks, and then surreptitiously sends you a 42 page document in your email for you to review, fill out, sign, scan and return…right away. Right away, so you can wait. And wait, and wait. Your 2 week time frame comes and goes and then said mortgage broker goes on vacation. VACATION. Can we sue for Prozac?
Then, like a ton of bricks, you learn the mortgage broker is not the true antagonist, he is merely a red herring. Enter: The Underwriter (insert evil laugh here). The underwriters must have done really, really well in their Critical Thinking class because their entire purpose in life is to take every branch in a person’s financial life, and see how many kinds of documentation proving the EXACT SAME THING they can come up with to request. Do they ask for all of this at one time? No, that would be too easy. Perhaps they think we won’t notice how redundant their requests are if they space them out. But guess what? I did really well in my Critical Thinking course as well, and I am on to them. Yep, I am positive they work for the government, or Satan.
So here we sit, VA appraisal is in (Another government scam, by the way. Why am I paying what will be at least $625 for an appraisal that protects the government and not me?!), All of our paperwork is in, and all we can do is wait…again, and closing is in just 3 weeks. Before waiting a month for the underwriters and appraiser to turn in their paperwork that was supposed to take 2 weeks, I would have thought, “Wow! 3 weeks we have time to spare!” Not so much now. Now it is more like, “Three weeks! I hope we close on time!” On time being before I need to use that defibrillator!
Oh, and remember the part about it raining almost every time we went house hunting? Well, if you have a drought in your area for a nominal fee and travel expenses we will go to open houses in your area. Be sure to book soon. Slots are limited.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Still Pathetic, Different Reason...Kind Of
A whole 2 days earlier than I could get in to an insurance covered eye doctor I was able to get an appointment at Wal Mart, and because I am incredibly patient I took the Wal Mart appointment. While waiting for my appointment I decided it would be an excellent idea to get contacts. Now mind you, I can't even watch someone touch an eye on television, so why I thought I could not only touch my eye, but purposely put something in it, I have no idea--none whatsoever.
It started out pretty well. The technician was very patient with me while I repeatedly closed my eyes *just* before getting the contact in my eye. After about 15 minutes, I managed to get one in. Then, I had to do it again. The second one didn't take so long, but I still had several missteps. I was thrilled! I managed to actually get the contacts in my eyes...both of them, even!! Then she gave me the horrible, terrible news. I had to learn to take them out. Take them out?! I just managed to get them in! But I did it. I took them out. Well, I took one out anyway. And, I managed to get it back in.
I left, went to the glasses area, and ordered a pair. You know, just in case, my eye gets irritated or something, but that wasn't going to happen, but I knew I should have a pair for "an emergency". After ordering my glasses, I went to the jewelry department because now I can have more than one pair of sunglasses, and I needed them to drive home. Cool.
I went home, and spent the day randomly trying go adjust my glasses that were not there. I was reveling in my new found freedom from the lens. No more smudges. No more fogged up lenses. No more rain on the glass. Until, I started to get tired. Then I rubbed my eyes. Not good. Apparently, if you rub your eyes with contacts the contact pops right out. Hmmmm. Didn't think of that. Ok, it's alright. I can learn to not rub my eyes. Really, I can. Then, I did it again. I decided to leave them out for the night, and start again in the morning.
Thaaat went well...NOT! It took me for.ev.er to get the contacts back in my eyes. Not only that, but, as hinted at by the name of my blog, I can be a bit obsessive. My new obsessive thought? I was going to miss something while washing my hands, and I was going to transfer a virus to my eyes, and then I was going to have to have people put things in my eyes. In them! I had to puuush that thought back. Way back.
Later that day, we went shopping. My eyes hurt. I felt like I had an eyelash in them, and I was getting sick to my stomach. I could not wait to get them out. Except I would have to wait. Because I could NOT get them out. I tried. I panicked. I gave up. I tried, again. Repeat and repeat again. I finally get them out, and I put them away for the day. Determined to try again later.
Then that obsessive thing comes in to play again. See, between every try I was washing my hands. Which would be great if it weren't for the fact that I am allergic (sensitive?) to anti-bacterial soap. I woke up in the middle of the night with my fingers so red and swollen that I could barely get my wedding rings off, and so itchy that I had to slather them with hydrocortizone cream. Not fun.
The good new is that when my new glasses came in about 2 weeks later, the skin was almost completely healed on my fingers. Oh, that, and I chose glasses that I really, really like, and not just some "they are ok, but they are not really going to be used so get the cheapest ones" glasses. Sometimes, *I* don't even know how well I know myself.
It started out pretty well. The technician was very patient with me while I repeatedly closed my eyes *just* before getting the contact in my eye. After about 15 minutes, I managed to get one in. Then, I had to do it again. The second one didn't take so long, but I still had several missteps. I was thrilled! I managed to actually get the contacts in my eyes...both of them, even!! Then she gave me the horrible, terrible news. I had to learn to take them out. Take them out?! I just managed to get them in! But I did it. I took them out. Well, I took one out anyway. And, I managed to get it back in.
I left, went to the glasses area, and ordered a pair. You know, just in case, my eye gets irritated or something, but that wasn't going to happen, but I knew I should have a pair for "an emergency". After ordering my glasses, I went to the jewelry department because now I can have more than one pair of sunglasses, and I needed them to drive home. Cool.
I went home, and spent the day randomly trying go adjust my glasses that were not there. I was reveling in my new found freedom from the lens. No more smudges. No more fogged up lenses. No more rain on the glass. Until, I started to get tired. Then I rubbed my eyes. Not good. Apparently, if you rub your eyes with contacts the contact pops right out. Hmmmm. Didn't think of that. Ok, it's alright. I can learn to not rub my eyes. Really, I can. Then, I did it again. I decided to leave them out for the night, and start again in the morning.
Thaaat went well...NOT! It took me for.ev.er to get the contacts back in my eyes. Not only that, but, as hinted at by the name of my blog, I can be a bit obsessive. My new obsessive thought? I was going to miss something while washing my hands, and I was going to transfer a virus to my eyes, and then I was going to have to have people put things in my eyes. In them! I had to puuush that thought back. Way back.
Later that day, we went shopping. My eyes hurt. I felt like I had an eyelash in them, and I was getting sick to my stomach. I could not wait to get them out. Except I would have to wait. Because I could NOT get them out. I tried. I panicked. I gave up. I tried, again. Repeat and repeat again. I finally get them out, and I put them away for the day. Determined to try again later.
Then that obsessive thing comes in to play again. See, between every try I was washing my hands. Which would be great if it weren't for the fact that I am allergic (sensitive?) to anti-bacterial soap. I woke up in the middle of the night with my fingers so red and swollen that I could barely get my wedding rings off, and so itchy that I had to slather them with hydrocortizone cream. Not fun.
The good new is that when my new glasses came in about 2 weeks later, the skin was almost completely healed on my fingers. Oh, that, and I chose glasses that I really, really like, and not just some "they are ok, but they are not really going to be used so get the cheapest ones" glasses. Sometimes, *I* don't even know how well I know myself.
Friday, February 25, 2011
I am Officially Pathetic!
In the last week I have managed to break both my glasses and my backup glasses, so now I am sitting in my living room watching television and playing on the web in my sunglasses.
WHYYYYYY did I not make an eye appointment when I broke the first pair?! Today I called the 3 (really, Tricare? 3??) eye doctors in my area that take my insurance, and the first appointment isn't for more than 2 weeks. Add to that the fact that I wear frameless glasses, so they have to be sent out adding another 2-3 weeks before I get glasses, and I am going to be looking all cool (or like I am trying to hide a black eye) for quite a while.
Hopefully, I will be able to get in to WalMart or Lenscrafters or the like to at least get the eye exam sooner. I will have to pay out of pocket, but really, how long can I live in sunglasses? After all, I do have a teenage boy, and I won't be able to hear anything over his laughter if I sit around like this all day.
The bright side is, I do have the Rx sunglasses (well darkened bright side, anyway) because without them I wouldn't even be able to drive, and THAT would be fun...NOT!
WHYYYYYY did I not make an eye appointment when I broke the first pair?! Today I called the 3 (really, Tricare? 3??) eye doctors in my area that take my insurance, and the first appointment isn't for more than 2 weeks. Add to that the fact that I wear frameless glasses, so they have to be sent out adding another 2-3 weeks before I get glasses, and I am going to be looking all cool (or like I am trying to hide a black eye) for quite a while.
Hopefully, I will be able to get in to WalMart or Lenscrafters or the like to at least get the eye exam sooner. I will have to pay out of pocket, but really, how long can I live in sunglasses? After all, I do have a teenage boy, and I won't be able to hear anything over his laughter if I sit around like this all day.
The bright side is, I do have the Rx sunglasses (well darkened bright side, anyway) because without them I wouldn't even be able to drive, and THAT would be fun...NOT!
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Yesterday I signed my own death warrant
Also known as joining a gym. Not only did I join a gym, but I prepaid for 4 months because we are moving, and they usually only do 1 or 2 year contracts. The exception: military. Thank you Anytime Fitness. I really wanted to wait procrastinate until we moved...got a house...unpacked...settled...died to join a gym, but since the gym was willing to work with our short term status they took away my second best excuse (first best being this pesky herniated disk that refuses to heal).
Today I took the first steps (no pun intended)to serve that warrant. I actually went to the gym. Wisely, (<--- I don't get to say that much), I went immediately after dropping Brendan off at the fire station. Do not go home. Do not use brain cells. Only listen to the radio and drive blindly to the gym or torture chamber. You choose. It is only semantics anyway. I managed to survive 15 minutes on the elliptical. My heart rate was too high at 195, so my mini goal right now is to work up to 20 minutes by Monday, and to get my heart rate down. I'm not sure what is a reasonable time for that one, though, so I will go will by the end of next week. Hmmm. I will have to do some research on that one.
So far the gym costs are $285 per visit. I guess I will have to go more because, well I don't know anyone who gets paid $1200 per hour - much less anyone living in this house!
Today I took the first steps (no pun intended)to serve that warrant. I actually went to the gym. Wisely, (<--- I don't get to say that much), I went immediately after dropping Brendan off at the fire station. Do not go home. Do not use brain cells. Only listen to the radio and drive blindly to the gym or torture chamber. You choose. It is only semantics anyway. I managed to survive 15 minutes on the elliptical. My heart rate was too high at 195, so my mini goal right now is to work up to 20 minutes by Monday, and to get my heart rate down. I'm not sure what is a reasonable time for that one, though, so I will go will by the end of next week. Hmmm. I will have to do some research on that one.
So far the gym costs are $285 per visit. I guess I will have to go more because, well I don't know anyone who gets paid $1200 per hour - much less anyone living in this house!
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Lean on What???!
Proverbs 3: 5-6 “Trust in the LORD with all your heart, And lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct your paths.”
We hear this verse so often, that it has almost become cliché. You find it printed on calendars, pens and dish towels. It is repeated often when it is “your path”. You don't hear it so often when it is “My path.”
With Michael retiring from the Air Force in just a few months, we have had to make some quick decisions without a lot of information, and it is really just starting. Michael has been applying for jobs left and right. He wants to continue working for the government, so that means his applications have been all over the US. The problem with applying all over the US is that you are applying ALL over the US. Which means even more decisions.
Our first big decision came just before Christmas with a job offer in Alaska. Prior to this he has been too far out from actual retirement for a position to be held for him. Now we had to face the reality of moving about as far away from our family as physically possible and still be in the same country. On the plus side the pay was right, it would get his foot in the door for a government job, and we could leisurely explore a beautiful state. On the negative side, our families would be far away, and it would not be a quick car ride to get to them if we needed to, and our almost 18 year old son pretty much insisted he would not go to Alaska—whether that would hold true in actuality depended on his ability to...I don't know...get a JOB! Another big negative...We had only ½ of a day to make a decision. That is not a lot of time to decide to uproot your entire family and move several thousand miles away to an area that you are not at familiar with. After a brief time in prayer and a walk or two around the block we decided to turn down the position.
After that Michael only applied for jobs in areas we would actually be willing to move to. This brings us to the next few applications Las Vegas, Charleston, San Antonio and Columbus, MS. We were really hoping for Charleston or Columbus, preferably Columbus. It would be almost perfect, and when I reasoned it out in my head it made perfect sense. It was closer to my cousin's house. The housing was relatively inexpensive, same pay as the Alaska job, and it was a position that Michael would have some authority in. See? Just right. You know other than Moody or Vandenberg, but they don't have openings right now.
Enter: the week before last. Michael gets an email that the positions in San Antonio and Columbus have closed out and his application was forwarded to the hiring authority. On Wednesday Brendan goes to youth group, and they do a talk about Proverbs 3: 5-6. Okay, nothing unusual. No flags here. Then comes Thursday...starting to do homework for Beth Moore's Esther study that I am doing, before I start I start thinking about the 2 applications that have been forwarded. What if he was offered the job in San Antonio, but the job in Mississippi was still pending? How would we decide whether to take the job or not? We don't want to keep turn down work in this economy hoping for the “perfect job”.
So, I decided to pray that if the Mississippi job was the right job for our family that they would contact Michael first. Then “that the right job would contact us soon. Maybe even this morning.” I went on to pray that I would be open to where God wants us to be. This is not a prayer to be taken lightly, and I didn't. I knew going into it that I was opening myself up to a result that I did not necessarily want.
Not 10 minutes later Michael calls. It turns out that he asked his boss if he would call the person hiring in Mississippi to put in a word for him. His response? Sure I could do that, but last night I was called by the person hiring in South Dakota, and he wants to hire you. There is a bit of back story to this. Ever since Michael was stationed in South Dakota he has wanted to go back. While we were there people were talking about retiring. Now, 5 years later someone is retiring, and retiring right when Michael is looking for a job.
So, leaning on my understanding, Mississippi is perfect, but apparently God has other plans. More evidence? The Michael's application was forwarded to the Charleston job and the same day someone else was selected. That means they already had someone in mind when they put out the job announcement—not entirely uncommon, and...we have heard nothing from Mississippi or San Antonio, and to top it all off, the Las Vegas job was canceled all together. Oh, the job that was supposed to open up here in January? Rumor has it the position will not be filled.
Could I be reading the situation totally wrong? Of course, but at this point in time it appears that all roads lead to South Dakota. Hmmm...take that Rome.
We hear this verse so often, that it has almost become cliché. You find it printed on calendars, pens and dish towels. It is repeated often when it is “your path”. You don't hear it so often when it is “My path.”
With Michael retiring from the Air Force in just a few months, we have had to make some quick decisions without a lot of information, and it is really just starting. Michael has been applying for jobs left and right. He wants to continue working for the government, so that means his applications have been all over the US. The problem with applying all over the US is that you are applying ALL over the US. Which means even more decisions.
Our first big decision came just before Christmas with a job offer in Alaska. Prior to this he has been too far out from actual retirement for a position to be held for him. Now we had to face the reality of moving about as far away from our family as physically possible and still be in the same country. On the plus side the pay was right, it would get his foot in the door for a government job, and we could leisurely explore a beautiful state. On the negative side, our families would be far away, and it would not be a quick car ride to get to them if we needed to, and our almost 18 year old son pretty much insisted he would not go to Alaska—whether that would hold true in actuality depended on his ability to...I don't know...get a JOB! Another big negative...We had only ½ of a day to make a decision. That is not a lot of time to decide to uproot your entire family and move several thousand miles away to an area that you are not at familiar with. After a brief time in prayer and a walk or two around the block we decided to turn down the position.
After that Michael only applied for jobs in areas we would actually be willing to move to. This brings us to the next few applications Las Vegas, Charleston, San Antonio and Columbus, MS. We were really hoping for Charleston or Columbus, preferably Columbus. It would be almost perfect, and when I reasoned it out in my head it made perfect sense. It was closer to my cousin's house. The housing was relatively inexpensive, same pay as the Alaska job, and it was a position that Michael would have some authority in. See? Just right. You know other than Moody or Vandenberg, but they don't have openings right now.
Enter: the week before last. Michael gets an email that the positions in San Antonio and Columbus have closed out and his application was forwarded to the hiring authority. On Wednesday Brendan goes to youth group, and they do a talk about Proverbs 3: 5-6. Okay, nothing unusual. No flags here. Then comes Thursday...starting to do homework for Beth Moore's Esther study that I am doing, before I start I start thinking about the 2 applications that have been forwarded. What if he was offered the job in San Antonio, but the job in Mississippi was still pending? How would we decide whether to take the job or not? We don't want to keep turn down work in this economy hoping for the “perfect job”.
So, I decided to pray that if the Mississippi job was the right job for our family that they would contact Michael first. Then “that the right job would contact us soon. Maybe even this morning.” I went on to pray that I would be open to where God wants us to be. This is not a prayer to be taken lightly, and I didn't. I knew going into it that I was opening myself up to a result that I did not necessarily want.
Not 10 minutes later Michael calls. It turns out that he asked his boss if he would call the person hiring in Mississippi to put in a word for him. His response? Sure I could do that, but last night I was called by the person hiring in South Dakota, and he wants to hire you. There is a bit of back story to this. Ever since Michael was stationed in South Dakota he has wanted to go back. While we were there people were talking about retiring. Now, 5 years later someone is retiring, and retiring right when Michael is looking for a job.
So, leaning on my understanding, Mississippi is perfect, but apparently God has other plans. More evidence? The Michael's application was forwarded to the Charleston job and the same day someone else was selected. That means they already had someone in mind when they put out the job announcement—not entirely uncommon, and...we have heard nothing from Mississippi or San Antonio, and to top it all off, the Las Vegas job was canceled all together. Oh, the job that was supposed to open up here in January? Rumor has it the position will not be filled.
Could I be reading the situation totally wrong? Of course, but at this point in time it appears that all roads lead to South Dakota. Hmmm...take that Rome.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Really, Louisiana??
I have always heard stories of cities shutting down because of bad weather. Bad weather being relative to the area. I've live in places where schools were shut down because of the threat of snow, and having just moved from South Dakota, I was not impressed.
Obviously, though, they had to take into account the areas ability to clear the roads, and, I hope, the bus drivers' and others' ability to drive in ice and snow, so while South Dakota would have scoffed, it was probably best for Virginia.
Louisiana, however, takes the cake! Today we are in a winter storm warning status. When we woke up this morning there was some sleet, and a little ice on the sidewalks. The road were wet. Brendan was scheduled for his first behind the wheel driving class at 8:00 am. At 7:30 the instructor called to see if we still wanted him to drive today. Since it wasn't too bad. The roads were not icy, and visibility was good we decided to let him go ahead and drive.
While Brendan was in his 2 hour driving class, Michael and I went to breakfast. The couple behind us was talking about how they went to church, but services were canceled due to weather. The waitresses were talking to regulars about staying home if you don't need to go out, and one person mentioned that interstate 220 was closed. No way! We had to have heard that wrong. Maybe there was an accident, and a lane was closed. Surely they had not closed an interstate when the only thing going on so far was sleet that had already changed to rain.
After eating breakfast we made a quick trip to Lowes to pick up some materials for a project I am working on, and then decided to run home for a few minutes before driving back to pick up Brendan. Near Lowes is the entrance to the 220. That is when we saw it. A sign, “Road Closed”. Really, road closed. We just about fell off of our seats. Good thing we had on our seat belts. This road is a 17 to 18 mile bypass around Shreveport. It is pretty much a straight shot—well, a giant curve shot that seems straight because the curve is so wide. It actually seems more dangerous to have that road closed since now you have more stops and traffic on wet roads to get from Haughton to Bossier to Shreveport.
After we picked up Brendan we went to the Dollar Tree to pick up some newspapers. They were supposed to be open, but the key holder wasn't there, yet. Why? Because 220 was closed, and she had to find a way through city streets to work. After we finally got in, the shelves where food goes were almost empty. Really empty.
I understand wanting to be prepared. I understand wanting to stay home in cold, bad weather, but really. It is not that bad. No need to panic people. Can I just say, I am sooo happy to not be working in grocery right now?!
At this rate, I am expecting a school closing announcement for tomorrow by dinner time tonight!
BTW: Brendan, did great. He was worn out after 2 straight hours of driving, and had no desire to drive home, but he felt good about it, and the instructor only gave us a couple things for him to work on between now and his next class.
Obviously, though, they had to take into account the areas ability to clear the roads, and, I hope, the bus drivers' and others' ability to drive in ice and snow, so while South Dakota would have scoffed, it was probably best for Virginia.
Louisiana, however, takes the cake! Today we are in a winter storm warning status. When we woke up this morning there was some sleet, and a little ice on the sidewalks. The road were wet. Brendan was scheduled for his first behind the wheel driving class at 8:00 am. At 7:30 the instructor called to see if we still wanted him to drive today. Since it wasn't too bad. The roads were not icy, and visibility was good we decided to let him go ahead and drive.
While Brendan was in his 2 hour driving class, Michael and I went to breakfast. The couple behind us was talking about how they went to church, but services were canceled due to weather. The waitresses were talking to regulars about staying home if you don't need to go out, and one person mentioned that interstate 220 was closed. No way! We had to have heard that wrong. Maybe there was an accident, and a lane was closed. Surely they had not closed an interstate when the only thing going on so far was sleet that had already changed to rain.
After eating breakfast we made a quick trip to Lowes to pick up some materials for a project I am working on, and then decided to run home for a few minutes before driving back to pick up Brendan. Near Lowes is the entrance to the 220. That is when we saw it. A sign, “Road Closed”. Really, road closed. We just about fell off of our seats. Good thing we had on our seat belts. This road is a 17 to 18 mile bypass around Shreveport. It is pretty much a straight shot—well, a giant curve shot that seems straight because the curve is so wide. It actually seems more dangerous to have that road closed since now you have more stops and traffic on wet roads to get from Haughton to Bossier to Shreveport.
After we picked up Brendan we went to the Dollar Tree to pick up some newspapers. They were supposed to be open, but the key holder wasn't there, yet. Why? Because 220 was closed, and she had to find a way through city streets to work. After we finally got in, the shelves where food goes were almost empty. Really empty.
I understand wanting to be prepared. I understand wanting to stay home in cold, bad weather, but really. It is not that bad. No need to panic people. Can I just say, I am sooo happy to not be working in grocery right now?!
At this rate, I am expecting a school closing announcement for tomorrow by dinner time tonight!
BTW: Brendan, did great. He was worn out after 2 straight hours of driving, and had no desire to drive home, but he felt good about it, and the instructor only gave us a couple things for him to work on between now and his next class.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
I'm Not the Only One Who Has Blonde Moments
I have a habit of speaking before thinking things through. I also tend to be a bit on the gullible side.
Case in point: In high school I was on the swim team. My boyfriend was on the track team. One day he was telling me about track meets, and somehow the conversation came around to the people needed to run a meet. He was listing off volunteer positions, and in the middle of the list said, "javelin catchers". I stopped him there, but not for the reason you would think...Not to tell him there was no such thing, but to ask him how that was fair. "But if they catch the javelin, how do they know it wasn't going to go further, and what if one javelin catcher is taller than the other? If one is taller then he can catch the javelin sooner." Yeah, really, I was that gullible.
These type moments happen so often that one time my husband, who is almost a foot taller than me, was standing over my head examining my hair. My very brunette hair. After a few seconds, I stopped talking and asked, "What ARE you doing?!" His answer? "Looking for the blonde roots."
But last night was his moment to shine. SHINE, I tell you. This year, thanks to my "Aunt" Becky we bought a remote control to turn on and off the Christmas tree lights. As we were shutting down the lights to go to bed, Michael tells me, "I really like that remote. I wonder if we can get one for other things like lamps." I told him you can hook up anything you plug in. He says, "Cool, you mean we can hook up a remote for the TV?"...Oh, yes he did! I was like, "What did you just say?" Then he tried to play it off. "Oh, nothing." Uh Huh...Too late now. I heard you.
Finally! I'm not the only one with the ditzy, did I just really say that moments.
Case in point: In high school I was on the swim team. My boyfriend was on the track team. One day he was telling me about track meets, and somehow the conversation came around to the people needed to run a meet. He was listing off volunteer positions, and in the middle of the list said, "javelin catchers". I stopped him there, but not for the reason you would think...Not to tell him there was no such thing, but to ask him how that was fair. "But if they catch the javelin, how do they know it wasn't going to go further, and what if one javelin catcher is taller than the other? If one is taller then he can catch the javelin sooner." Yeah, really, I was that gullible.
These type moments happen so often that one time my husband, who is almost a foot taller than me, was standing over my head examining my hair. My very brunette hair. After a few seconds, I stopped talking and asked, "What ARE you doing?!" His answer? "Looking for the blonde roots."
But last night was his moment to shine. SHINE, I tell you. This year, thanks to my "Aunt" Becky we bought a remote control to turn on and off the Christmas tree lights. As we were shutting down the lights to go to bed, Michael tells me, "I really like that remote. I wonder if we can get one for other things like lamps." I told him you can hook up anything you plug in. He says, "Cool, you mean we can hook up a remote for the TV?"...Oh, yes he did! I was like, "What did you just say?" Then he tried to play it off. "Oh, nothing." Uh Huh...Too late now. I heard you.
Finally! I'm not the only one with the ditzy, did I just really say that moments.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Do NOT forget to take your Cymbalta!
I am miserable. Probably not what you wanted to read, huh?
The night before last I forgot to take my meds. I remembered after I was in bed and almost asleep. I didn't think too much of it. Then I forgot to take it altogether yesterday. Probably just the busyness of the year. Again, I remembered in the middle of the night. This morning I woke up and had to rush out the door. I didn't even eat any breakfast. I was still ok. Just ok. I was in pain. I couldn't sleep much last night because I was hurting so much from the fibromyalgia. Hips, legs, back, neck. They all hurt. And they hurt to the point of keeping me awake.
When we got to where we were going I noticed a sharp pain shooting horizontally through my calf with each step. I tried to tough it out. The pain slowly spread to my feet and back. Then I got "stuck" in between 2 people at a store, and had an overwhelming feeling of just feeling trapped. I caught a glance of myself in a mirror. I did not like what I saw. I basically just lost it. It was too much. There is a reason they tell you not to stop taking Cymbalta and Lyrica cold turkey, and today I lived that.
When we finally got home I went straight in, took my medication and topped it off with a muscle relaxer to try to counteract the pain. Then I took a 3 hour nap. Since then the physical pain has lessoned, but I have been on the verge of tears all night.
So basically this is a cautionary tale. If you are prescribed Cymbalta and Lyrica, make sure you don't miss your doses. Be careful to not be lulled into a "I feel good. I must be doing better, so it will be ok." state of mind. Even if you have to get up out of bed at 3am, take them.
Hopefully tomorrow will be better!
The night before last I forgot to take my meds. I remembered after I was in bed and almost asleep. I didn't think too much of it. Then I forgot to take it altogether yesterday. Probably just the busyness of the year. Again, I remembered in the middle of the night. This morning I woke up and had to rush out the door. I didn't even eat any breakfast. I was still ok. Just ok. I was in pain. I couldn't sleep much last night because I was hurting so much from the fibromyalgia. Hips, legs, back, neck. They all hurt. And they hurt to the point of keeping me awake.
When we got to where we were going I noticed a sharp pain shooting horizontally through my calf with each step. I tried to tough it out. The pain slowly spread to my feet and back. Then I got "stuck" in between 2 people at a store, and had an overwhelming feeling of just feeling trapped. I caught a glance of myself in a mirror. I did not like what I saw. I basically just lost it. It was too much. There is a reason they tell you not to stop taking Cymbalta and Lyrica cold turkey, and today I lived that.
When we finally got home I went straight in, took my medication and topped it off with a muscle relaxer to try to counteract the pain. Then I took a 3 hour nap. Since then the physical pain has lessoned, but I have been on the verge of tears all night.
So basically this is a cautionary tale. If you are prescribed Cymbalta and Lyrica, make sure you don't miss your doses. Be careful to not be lulled into a "I feel good. I must be doing better, so it will be ok." state of mind. Even if you have to get up out of bed at 3am, take them.
Hopefully tomorrow will be better!
Friday, November 19, 2010
How I Know God has a Sense of Humor
We always hear about God having a sense of humor. I mean have you seen a turkey...or an ostrich...a baboon? But I have proof that is a bit closer to home. Me and my husband. Only an innate sense of humor would have ever put us together. We could not be more opposite. I am convinced that when people get bored up in heaven God says, “Wait! Look! Look right down there. In Louisiana. No not there-- right next to Texas.” And then He flips on the movie projector of our life.
First of all, all you have to do is look at us, and you will get your first clue. I am short, very short, and on top of that I have short legs even for my height. Michael is tall. Almost a foot taller than me, and he has long legs. Like runner's legs. Not me. I have walk really slow legs. When we walk together, if he is walking at normal speed I have to just about jog to keep up. That came in very handy when I was working retail, since I often had to hustle, and I was already in practice.
Next, look at our work space. Michael is a pile-er. He has stacks of what I am convinced is trash EVERYWHERE, and it is all askew. Folders, papers, post-its. They cover every square inch of his desk. My desk? Clear. If I have several things to do, they are in one stack with the most pressing at the top of the pile. That way I can work my way down. Need a pen? I can show you right where it is, but I won't need to because you will be able to see it all on your own. My bulletin board? It consists of only clear tacks with 3x5 cards placed straight down and across—evenly spaced. Oh, that 3x5 card is messed up? Don't put it back. I will rewrite a new one. In the same color ink as the others.
Closets? His: just hang the clothes on the pole. As long as they are not on the floor—we're good. Mine: Pants on one rod, separated by type and color. Shirts? Organized by color according to the spectrum of the rainbow, within each color the shirts are then separated by sleeve length.
Housecleaning? Me? I start at the top and work my way down to the floor and out of the room. I get corners, behind objects: I lift the cook top to get underneath. Him: (looking at stove) “That comes up?!”
Vehicles? Mine: Don't leave anything in it. Other than a bag of recyclable bags in the back. His? Need a place to sit? “Just toss all those papers in the backseat. I'll get them when I sell the car.”
You get the idea. This makes for some interesting “conversations” at our house, especially if someone is coming over.
I spent the first 10 years of our marriage going behind him to apologize. “No really, he didn't mean that the way it sounded.” I mean, the man has NO tact. None. On top of that I seem to be super aware of other people's perceptions, so I am always trying to fix things. I finally just gave up because, well, did I mention he has long legs? He can cover a lot more ground than I can, and it's just tiring.
But, in spite of all these differences (I could go on, but the internet is only so big), I love him, and he loves me—even though my pickiness drives him up a wall. That's ok, though, that's why he has a job. God must have a sense of humor because if He didn't He would have never put us together, and he certainly wouldn't have known how much of a sense of humor to give us, so that we could put up with each other without involving bloodletting in some shape or form.
First of all, all you have to do is look at us, and you will get your first clue. I am short, very short, and on top of that I have short legs even for my height. Michael is tall. Almost a foot taller than me, and he has long legs. Like runner's legs. Not me. I have walk really slow legs. When we walk together, if he is walking at normal speed I have to just about jog to keep up. That came in very handy when I was working retail, since I often had to hustle, and I was already in practice.
Next, look at our work space. Michael is a pile-er. He has stacks of what I am convinced is trash EVERYWHERE, and it is all askew. Folders, papers, post-its. They cover every square inch of his desk. My desk? Clear. If I have several things to do, they are in one stack with the most pressing at the top of the pile. That way I can work my way down. Need a pen? I can show you right where it is, but I won't need to because you will be able to see it all on your own. My bulletin board? It consists of only clear tacks with 3x5 cards placed straight down and across—evenly spaced. Oh, that 3x5 card is messed up? Don't put it back. I will rewrite a new one. In the same color ink as the others.
Closets? His: just hang the clothes on the pole. As long as they are not on the floor—we're good. Mine: Pants on one rod, separated by type and color. Shirts? Organized by color according to the spectrum of the rainbow, within each color the shirts are then separated by sleeve length.
Housecleaning? Me? I start at the top and work my way down to the floor and out of the room. I get corners, behind objects: I lift the cook top to get underneath. Him: (looking at stove) “That comes up?!”
Vehicles? Mine: Don't leave anything in it. Other than a bag of recyclable bags in the back. His? Need a place to sit? “Just toss all those papers in the backseat. I'll get them when I sell the car.”
You get the idea. This makes for some interesting “conversations” at our house, especially if someone is coming over.
I spent the first 10 years of our marriage going behind him to apologize. “No really, he didn't mean that the way it sounded.” I mean, the man has NO tact. None. On top of that I seem to be super aware of other people's perceptions, so I am always trying to fix things. I finally just gave up because, well, did I mention he has long legs? He can cover a lot more ground than I can, and it's just tiring.
But, in spite of all these differences (I could go on, but the internet is only so big), I love him, and he loves me—even though my pickiness drives him up a wall. That's ok, though, that's why he has a job. God must have a sense of humor because if He didn't He would have never put us together, and he certainly wouldn't have known how much of a sense of humor to give us, so that we could put up with each other without involving bloodletting in some shape or form.
Monday, November 15, 2010
When Your Internal Clock is Off...WAY Off
In the beginning of July I hurt my back. I hurt it bad enough that for the next 2 to 3 days I lived on painkillers, muscle relaxers, ice packs and heating pads. Ever since then I have had trouble sleeping. Before this happened I was coming off of an early morning work schedule. I had to be at work at 6 am, so even though I had stopped working a couple of months prior to our move, I was still up and around by 7 am. After living on painkillers for several days, painkillers that completely knocked me out, I was going to bed late, and waking up later.
Since then I have tried forcing myself to go to sleep earlier. Result: me tossing and turning until 4 am. Did you know that if you hold your hand up to the light of your alarm clock your nails look like you have a blue french manicure? Neither did I. I do now.
I tried just laying down a couple of hours before I wanted to fall asleep and reading myself to sleep: Result: an out of control book budget. I can read for hours. I can read fast. Reading for hours just results in more books read, not earlier sleep.
I tried forcing myself to get up super early, so I would be tired at a normal bedtime. Result: falling asleep for 3 hours in the middle of the afternoon. There is only so much the human body can do on 2 hours of sleep when there is no adrenaline involved, and apparently all this human body can do is stare uncomprehendingly at the television, or, I don't know, the WALL, until the will to stay awake loses to the force that is “The Sandman”.
I even tried over the counter sleeping pills. Do you know what those things are??? Benedryl. Do you know what Benedryl does to me? It knocks; me out, just like the painkillers. The problem? The painkillers and the sleeping pills knock me out for waaaay too long. Then when I am finally able to move the lead weights that are my arms and legs, I am groggy. Super groggy. That results in absolutely nothing getting done.
So, I am back to just kind of hoping I will miraculously start to get tired at a normal, reasonable hour. That results in days like today.
Get up very late.
Feel guilty for getting up late even though I slept for a very normal 8 hours—almost to the minute.
Have a general feeling of lethargy all day long while trying to convince myself to get some chores done.
Start becoming clear minded at about 9 pm.
Between 11 pm and 12:30 am:
Complete 2 loads of laundry, including ironing.
Vacuum carpets
Sweep and mop kitchen, entry way and bathrooms
Clean master bathroom
Hang pictures
Write blog post
Screw down door organizer in pantry
Feel really, really awake!! REALLY awake!
Give up on ever sleeping again.
Around 3 am decide to read in bed by the light of my cell phone.
4-4:30 am Finally fall asleep.
Start all over again.
I am really starting to wonder if God is trying to tell me that my next job will be the night shift!
Since then I have tried forcing myself to go to sleep earlier. Result: me tossing and turning until 4 am. Did you know that if you hold your hand up to the light of your alarm clock your nails look like you have a blue french manicure? Neither did I. I do now.
I tried just laying down a couple of hours before I wanted to fall asleep and reading myself to sleep: Result: an out of control book budget. I can read for hours. I can read fast. Reading for hours just results in more books read, not earlier sleep.
I tried forcing myself to get up super early, so I would be tired at a normal bedtime. Result: falling asleep for 3 hours in the middle of the afternoon. There is only so much the human body can do on 2 hours of sleep when there is no adrenaline involved, and apparently all this human body can do is stare uncomprehendingly at the television, or, I don't know, the WALL, until the will to stay awake loses to the force that is “The Sandman”.
I even tried over the counter sleeping pills. Do you know what those things are??? Benedryl. Do you know what Benedryl does to me? It knocks; me out, just like the painkillers. The problem? The painkillers and the sleeping pills knock me out for waaaay too long. Then when I am finally able to move the lead weights that are my arms and legs, I am groggy. Super groggy. That results in absolutely nothing getting done.
So, I am back to just kind of hoping I will miraculously start to get tired at a normal, reasonable hour. That results in days like today.
Get up very late.
Feel guilty for getting up late even though I slept for a very normal 8 hours—almost to the minute.
Have a general feeling of lethargy all day long while trying to convince myself to get some chores done.
Start becoming clear minded at about 9 pm.
Between 11 pm and 12:30 am:
Complete 2 loads of laundry, including ironing.
Vacuum carpets
Sweep and mop kitchen, entry way and bathrooms
Clean master bathroom
Hang pictures
Write blog post
Screw down door organizer in pantry
Feel really, really awake!! REALLY awake!
Give up on ever sleeping again.
Around 3 am decide to read in bed by the light of my cell phone.
4-4:30 am Finally fall asleep.
Start all over again.
I am really starting to wonder if God is trying to tell me that my next job will be the night shift!
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Cymbalta: Or How My Husband Gets to Remain Sane Without Locking Me Up and Throwing Away the Key
And he doesn't even have to take it. That's how it works in our family. I *suffer* from second hand sleep apnea. (My own term for being the partner of someone who has sleep apnea.) He reaps the benefits of a wife on Cymbalta. I don't really see how that is quite fair. Suffer/reaps the benefits. Do you see the issue here? That's okay, though, because I have learned in the last week that if my husband dies before me I am moving to Australia to find the man of my dreams--literally. The man who invented the sleep apnea machine.
Of course, the drawback to being able to have dreams is the Cymbalta. I have some crazy, stressed out dreams. The latest included me, on a team trying to make a beautiful two dimensional wedding dress cookie out of sugar cookie dough.
The problem with these dreams is this: In the beginning of the dream I am "all that!". I can make the most beautiful pastry you have ever seen! Then the mechanics start-somehow I make dough. Then somehow I roll out this dough into a perfect rectangle. Then I realize my teammates aren't helping me. Now, I am mad! Why is no one helping me?! This is supposed to be a team effort! Wait! What are they doing? Oh no, they are performing CPR. I must help, but the judge is here telling me to hurry up I am running out of time. So, I do what all rational people would do and continue to roll out teeny tiny layers to put on my wedding dress cookie.
It's about this time that I "remember" that I have no idea how to decorate cakes, cookies, or pastries of any sort. Not only that, but I am not artistic, at all! I am not able to make whatever it is in my mind come out of my fingers. This is not good! Then I look over and one of the judges has decided to "help me" with my cookie by drawing the outline of some Picasso-esque face with black piping gel all over my cookie. WHY?! I don't know, but she totally ruined my chance of winning a car.
Now everyone wins a car, but me. :( Then I notice the car my friend chooses has a big black dent and scrape along the side like it was his by a burning softball. I try desperately to get her to choose another car, but the cars are all like that now. They weren't a minute ago. HEY! These contest organizers are trying to cheat us out of our brand new cars!
Now. Don't you feel rested? Me neither. I wake up trying to figure out how to make the cookie. Oh, and the person receiving the CPR? Don't know. Never bothered to even check up on the guy because in my dreams I am compassionate like that.
So, I get the crazy dreams, but Michael gets the wife who does not sit in the car stressing over the fact that he is driving in the left lane and we have to turn right in just 3 miles. Hello! Don't you see we need to turn? And there are other cars! In the right lane! If we wait we may never get over! And you know what happens if we don't get over! No, we don't turn around. How are we going to turn around when the world has just ended?! We really need to get over now! After all we are turning in just 2.5 miles. Do you see my finger tapping against the door frame? It means you are not doing it the way *I* would!! And that is just wrong!
He loved driving with me.
Michael also gets the wife who gets dressed, puts on make up, drives 20 minutes to a restaurant, and will, get this, get out of the car! Even when there are more than like 3 other cars in the parking lot. I no longer get somewhere and just freeze in my seat like if I go in there something terrible is going to happen. We may not know it, but believe me it will happen.
I am surprised he never starved.
The most surprising effect has been that I even went to the gym. By myself. 5 times a week. For several months before we moved. That is a miracle unto itself! Now that was a gym I was somewhat familiar with. Now, I just need to find one here.
Hmmm. Come to think of it this was good for him. I wonder why he doesn't have cut abs?
Oh, AND, I can actually relax! Some. I don't feel the need to be doing *something* from the time I get up, until the time I go to bed. This is big! Just ask Michael. I mean do you know how hard it is to watch a football game when someone has decided they must dust the entertainment stand right now. Like really right now or the dust might form a coalition and take us all out. Or the carpet must be vacuumed. Also right now! I mean, if the NFL would just call me before they set up their playing schedule maybe we could work something out. But no, they don't care that some grass just fell off of someone's shoe.
Of course, now he wishes I would stand in front of the television and clean. Have you seen the Cowboys play this year?
So, thanks to Cymbalta I get crazy dreams, and Michael loses crazy wife. Too cool!
By the way, I was actually put on Cymbalta in order to help control the Fibromyalgia pain. It is only been discovered that I actually, certifiably have anxiety issues because of how much I have changed since being put on the Cymbalta. I thought this was normal, but in a way I feel like my world is opening up. And I have learned 2 things you don't want to hear from your doctor. 1. When describing your reaction to being in the "wrong lane of traffic: "No, that's not "normal". Not in my world." and 2. When awaiting blood test results: "You are one sick pup!"
Of course, the drawback to being able to have dreams is the Cymbalta. I have some crazy, stressed out dreams. The latest included me, on a team trying to make a beautiful two dimensional wedding dress cookie out of sugar cookie dough.
The problem with these dreams is this: In the beginning of the dream I am "all that!". I can make the most beautiful pastry you have ever seen! Then the mechanics start-somehow I make dough. Then somehow I roll out this dough into a perfect rectangle. Then I realize my teammates aren't helping me. Now, I am mad! Why is no one helping me?! This is supposed to be a team effort! Wait! What are they doing? Oh no, they are performing CPR. I must help, but the judge is here telling me to hurry up I am running out of time. So, I do what all rational people would do and continue to roll out teeny tiny layers to put on my wedding dress cookie.
It's about this time that I "remember" that I have no idea how to decorate cakes, cookies, or pastries of any sort. Not only that, but I am not artistic, at all! I am not able to make whatever it is in my mind come out of my fingers. This is not good! Then I look over and one of the judges has decided to "help me" with my cookie by drawing the outline of some Picasso-esque face with black piping gel all over my cookie. WHY?! I don't know, but she totally ruined my chance of winning a car.
Now everyone wins a car, but me. :( Then I notice the car my friend chooses has a big black dent and scrape along the side like it was his by a burning softball. I try desperately to get her to choose another car, but the cars are all like that now. They weren't a minute ago. HEY! These contest organizers are trying to cheat us out of our brand new cars!
Now. Don't you feel rested? Me neither. I wake up trying to figure out how to make the cookie. Oh, and the person receiving the CPR? Don't know. Never bothered to even check up on the guy because in my dreams I am compassionate like that.
So, I get the crazy dreams, but Michael gets the wife who does not sit in the car stressing over the fact that he is driving in the left lane and we have to turn right in just 3 miles. Hello! Don't you see we need to turn? And there are other cars! In the right lane! If we wait we may never get over! And you know what happens if we don't get over! No, we don't turn around. How are we going to turn around when the world has just ended?! We really need to get over now! After all we are turning in just 2.5 miles. Do you see my finger tapping against the door frame? It means you are not doing it the way *I* would!! And that is just wrong!
He loved driving with me.
Michael also gets the wife who gets dressed, puts on make up, drives 20 minutes to a restaurant, and will, get this, get out of the car! Even when there are more than like 3 other cars in the parking lot. I no longer get somewhere and just freeze in my seat like if I go in there something terrible is going to happen. We may not know it, but believe me it will happen.
I am surprised he never starved.
The most surprising effect has been that I even went to the gym. By myself. 5 times a week. For several months before we moved. That is a miracle unto itself! Now that was a gym I was somewhat familiar with. Now, I just need to find one here.
Hmmm. Come to think of it this was good for him. I wonder why he doesn't have cut abs?
Oh, AND, I can actually relax! Some. I don't feel the need to be doing *something* from the time I get up, until the time I go to bed. This is big! Just ask Michael. I mean do you know how hard it is to watch a football game when someone has decided they must dust the entertainment stand right now. Like really right now or the dust might form a coalition and take us all out. Or the carpet must be vacuumed. Also right now! I mean, if the NFL would just call me before they set up their playing schedule maybe we could work something out. But no, they don't care that some grass just fell off of someone's shoe.
Of course, now he wishes I would stand in front of the television and clean. Have you seen the Cowboys play this year?
So, thanks to Cymbalta I get crazy dreams, and Michael loses crazy wife. Too cool!
By the way, I was actually put on Cymbalta in order to help control the Fibromyalgia pain. It is only been discovered that I actually, certifiably have anxiety issues because of how much I have changed since being put on the Cymbalta. I thought this was normal, but in a way I feel like my world is opening up. And I have learned 2 things you don't want to hear from your doctor. 1. When describing your reaction to being in the "wrong lane of traffic: "No, that's not "normal". Not in my world." and 2. When awaiting blood test results: "You are one sick pup!"
Friday, November 5, 2010
Fibro Friday: Weeks 3 and 4: totally slacking
The last two weeks have been a struggle. Towards the end of week 3 I started going in to a flare.
I noticed this time that the flare seemed to start with burning in my shins. Painful, can't ignore it burning. Kind of like, or maybe exactly like, shin splints. This was followed by extreme exhaustion. Cooking fell by the wayside, and my housework was the bare minimum. It was a struggle first of all to get out of bed, and once out to stay awake. After the exhaustion was foot pain. I always have heel pain, but this was throughout the entire soul of my foot and in the tendons.
I also noticed increased "fibro fog". This was most noticeable in my speech patterns. I was constantly stopping in the middle of a sentence because I just couldn't find the word. I know this can be normal, but not when it happens this much.
My last observation is how much the cold weather effects my pain. I suspected before, but I was conscious of it this time, so I am trying to make sure to keep warm as soon as I notice I am chilled. Hopefully that will help some, too.
During this past week, week 4, the major symptoms started to subside. They actually started to subside in the same order I noticed them coming on. I didn't really expect that. I finally started getting some energy back, and I was able to reorganize the office earlier in the week, and do some of the deeper cleaning throughout the week.
Today I started back with the bike riding. One time around the block today. My thighs are a bit sore, but I have high hopes that I will be able to get further with it this month than last month.
I plan is still to learn to be my best with this "disease". I guess that will have to start with becoming aware of what is going on with my body.
I noticed this time that the flare seemed to start with burning in my shins. Painful, can't ignore it burning. Kind of like, or maybe exactly like, shin splints. This was followed by extreme exhaustion. Cooking fell by the wayside, and my housework was the bare minimum. It was a struggle first of all to get out of bed, and once out to stay awake. After the exhaustion was foot pain. I always have heel pain, but this was throughout the entire soul of my foot and in the tendons.
I also noticed increased "fibro fog". This was most noticeable in my speech patterns. I was constantly stopping in the middle of a sentence because I just couldn't find the word. I know this can be normal, but not when it happens this much.
My last observation is how much the cold weather effects my pain. I suspected before, but I was conscious of it this time, so I am trying to make sure to keep warm as soon as I notice I am chilled. Hopefully that will help some, too.
During this past week, week 4, the major symptoms started to subside. They actually started to subside in the same order I noticed them coming on. I didn't really expect that. I finally started getting some energy back, and I was able to reorganize the office earlier in the week, and do some of the deeper cleaning throughout the week.
Today I started back with the bike riding. One time around the block today. My thighs are a bit sore, but I have high hopes that I will be able to get further with it this month than last month.
I plan is still to learn to be my best with this "disease". I guess that will have to start with becoming aware of what is going on with my body.
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