I REALLY WANT A COOKIE!

This Blog is Going in a New Direction.

2012-01-21T13:12:00.000-08:00

Hello Everyone,

I loved this blog so much but it's run it's course. I'm done talking about weight loss. It was fun when I was losing bricks of weight. I am still on my journey to drop the pounds. It's just that my mind goes blank when I want to share it with you.

I decided that I want to write about everything else in my life. I have more inspiration and more topics this way. I might talk about crappy weight loss too, but I have so much more to say.

I started a new blog. I should have done it sooner. I am a new me, well I am a different me since I started this blog. To my few followers please stay with my new blog. I promise that I will live up to your expectations. I may even be better.

Thank you for reading. I can't wait to see you on the other side.

All of my love,

Amy

http://amyinbc.blogspot.com/

I hope you enjoy the new blog.

Blood Test

2011-12-23T12:41:00.000-08:00

*This blog has not been edited for grammar error due to timing constraints

At the moment I am supposed to be decking the halls- translation: cleaning the house, and acting as a stand-in elf- translation: wrapping two dozen gifts.

The problem with my gift wrapping is that it takes me so long to wrap a gift. I turn into the spawn of Martha Stewart. This year in addition to the fancy paper, the fabric ribbon, expensive gift tags (The Santa gift tag actually has moving legs and arms; how cute is that?) I have added jingle bells to each gift; all different colors, hey you gotta match the bow, right? Every gift has to be perfect. To me presentation is almost as important is the gift itself. I spent all that time picking out the gift and just to put cheap wrapping paper and .10 bow on it would be a travesty to me.

Instead of fulfilling my commitments of wrapping, cleaning, and doing whatever else needs to be done today, I am sitting on my bum blogging.

I haven't lost any weight. I haven't gained any weight either so it isn't all bad.

I have kept to my goals. But I know why my weight is staying stagnant. I had some blood test done figuring that I was a diabetic. I was all ready to give up sugar, but it turns out that my TSH was high, meaning that my thyroid is under active. That explains why I am tired, cold, sad, and my weight gain. What did I say? WEIGHT GAIN! It makes sense. I know that I was not following the perfect lap band diet but I still wasn't stuffing my face, and now that I am exercising and not drinking anything but water and the occasional Starbucks mocha I should be losing at least a little weight. My doctor gave me some pills and assured me that everything would work out. He said I would lose these 10 pounds, and the best part is that I would get my energy back! How great is that? I am so happy.

Remember how I told you that I had blood work done and I thought that I might have been a diabetic? I wasn't. The my results that I DID get...well I wish I was diabetic. During the last year I had 3 other blood test but I never went in for the results. My doctor didn't call so I didn't think anything was wrong. This time I had to go in a week after this test because I had to have my 'lady examination'. This time I did get my blood work results. It was crappy.

*Never get blood work done before the holidays. I figured out that December 27 is a good day because you probably won't get the results back until after the new year. I am just saying...

It turns out that my kidneys are failing. Shitty. I'll say it again- shitty. I am at 56% at the moment. The challenge is that my kidneys have lost 30% function in the last year. I am not going to go into all the medical crap.

I can't believe this happened. I already signed up for the mental illness thing. I shouldn't have to do both. I am not feeling sorry for myself. I mean, I just want to say, 'Really?' Okay, now I am moving on to getting this under control. I am now in the process of turning my life upside down to change my entire diet and now I HAVE to exercise. This now became a life or death matter. Just to let you know I got the lap band to avoid a premature death, so there is no way that I am going to let this thing win. I don't want to have to a kidney transplant, or be on dialysis; that would really suck. There is no way I am changing the name of this blog to: 'I REALLY WANT A KIDNEY.' So bring it on. I am ready. I am staying positive, but next year I am going on December 27th to get my blood work.

Weight Gain Sucks...Blogging Silently

2011-12-07T10:01:00.000-08:00

I am so sorry that I have not been here in forever. I could give you a lot of intelligent reasons, but the real reason is I got an iPhone and I have been playing games on my phone. Shame on me. I have been blogging in my head almost everyday, and the blogs have been execellent. You would've have loved them. Some of my best work happens in my head; if only I could attach a cable from laptop to my brain.

I just want to start my blog with: it's Christmas time again! The Starbucks red cups are out again. I love those red guys. It's the little things that make me the happiest.

I don't know what to blog about because I have blogged everyday about everything in my head...

Alright, it's time to come clean. I am a little depressed. I managed to gain some weight in the last year. I can't seem to take it off either.

Maybe that is because I am drinking high calorie beverages. I seem to think it is okay for me to be indulging in eggnog, fruit punch rock star's, hot chocolate with whipping cream, juice, and soda- and my friends, I am not partaking in diet soda, nope it's high fructose all the way!

And if we are admitting things I should tell you that I have turned in to a big blob. Exercise, what is that? It's too cold, it's too hot, it's raining, I'm too tired to go to the gym, I'm too busy playing games on my iPhone, there isn't enough blog space to list all of my stupid reasons.

Lastly, I can change my blog name to: I HAVE HAD A LOT OF COOKIES! Enough said.

So don't feel sorry for me and my spare tire; I earned it. Even with the band, which is just a tool I found ways to sabotage myself. After thought, mediation, and looking at my bank account realizing I have spent $25,000 to look hot damn. I can not throw it away. Mainly it came down to the cash, but hey whatever motivates me to change is a good thing.

Beverages, and cookies have been removed from home, and I today exercised, I wished for the Bodybugg from Santa, and I think he will come through, and I still have my band which I had serviced a few weeks ago. I think I am ready to go. Goodbye iPhone, hello iPod.

Then and Now...I Am Going To Make It To The Finish LIne

2011-07-04T12:22:00.000-07:00

So it has been like forever since I have laid eyes on my blog. I guess I have kind have let it go. You know when times are good you want to share your life with the world, but when things seem shitty you want to crawl under a rock and hide...well I hid under a very big rock.

Here is my life since: 2007-

I went and got me a lapband. Lost a bunch of weight. (Thumbs up. Wrote a lot in my blog, 'cus life was coming up good!)

2008- I was put on a new drug to control my bipolar; weight loss came to a halt. I was ashamed-didn't want to leave the house. Sure I wasn't going bonkers, but I was depressed. Spent my time watching daytime TV, dieting, working out on a treadmill, and wondering what the hell was keeping me from losing weight.

-2010 the same stuff was going on but I have just seem to get worse. Thought if I got a tummy tuck I would feel better. Not so much. In fact felt worse than ever.

2010 - 2011- I have done nothing! No treadmill, no nothing. Lost my will to survive.

Well that was until today...

I am so tired of being tired. I am more beaten down now then I was when I was 250 pounds. I had a better attitude then too; I remember being happier. I am so tired of being down on myself. I can't do it anymore. Today is the day where I fight back. Today is the day when I remember who I am and that means I remember how tough I am!

I have gained weight- of course during this past year. Duh! About 10 pounds. I need to lose about 15 pounds to make a difference in my appearance or my tummy tuck will have been for nothing. I used to make Youtube videos but I'm so ashamed of my appearance that I just can't do it.

It is time to come out of hiding and make my dreams come true. I didn't come this far to be defeated.

This blog is called I REALLY WANT A COOKIE- and that is really what I want: a cookie, a cake, some ice cream, maybe a cheese burger, well the list goes on and on... But for the next 5 days my short-term goal is to cut out all sugar from my diet. That will means I will have to refrain from drinking Starbucks mochas, and enjoying all the sugary snacks that I love so much. I will also be participating in some form of exercise each day this week. The last thing I will do is journal my feelings here.

Right now I am scared. I don't want to give up the sugar and I don't want to move my lazy butt anywhere, but the thing about it is: I don't want to be so close to the finish line and stalled just out of reach. I want to accomplish my goals. I want to believe in myself. I want to believe I have the willpower, the self-control, the self-confidence, inner strength, and the love for myself to get to the finish line.

My current weight is 173.8. It was 168.2 just 3 weeks ago, but I went on a sugar

binge. I guess I hit rock bottom...

Let's get this party started.

The picture on the left is

what I looked like last summer before I gained 10 pounds.

The picture on the right is what I look like today.

Monday

2011-01-17T09:59:00.000-08:00

I’m supposed to be at the gym today; as a matter of fact-right now. I went there in my mind I imagined the workout equipment, the cardio machines, and the weights. I figure I did such a good job imaging that I can forgo the actual ‘going’ part. Instead I will do some cardio on my treadmill which at the moment I prefer. I’m supposed to go to the gym Thursday maybe my memory won’t be so great then I will have to go.

Small steps… Last week I wouldn’t even have entertained the thought of going to the gym.

Amy in Wonderland

2011-01-05T14:45:00.000-08:00

My home enables me to stay put and not go outside. You see I have a nice home; it is nicely decorated, calm, clean, and very relaxing. When people come over they give me the greatest compliment by saying that I have a home that is comfortable. Really? Of course it is, I have spent a lot of time and effort making my island of solitude wonderful. It is going to be hard to give up lounging about in my wonderland. I’m just being honest.

However, it is day three of the Amy Improvement Project. I feel like I’m going in the right direction.

Yesterday I took Holly to the doctors; yeah but, the ‘yay moment’ was that I walked there. Before this I would have only walk around my block, over, and over, and over, and over again. I have done many 10k walks just walking around my block. I fear my neighbors think I’m crazy, and they’re mostly right. But yesterday I walked 5k to Holly’s doctor who was not located on, or anywhere near my block. I had to walk through town to get there. I did it. To celebrate Holly and I went to… yup you guessed it…Starbucks to celebrate. She didn’t know we were celebrating but I did.

Today the weather is very grey outside. These are my favorite days, because I can justify not having to go anywhere, or do anything. I just sit back and relax. Today will be no different however I am going to stretch out my comfort zone inside my house. I’m going to prepare dinner. I hate cooking so much I would rather stick toothpicks in my eyeballs. But I’m going to cook anyway because I want to feel accomplished, even today.

I’m going to sign off and go walk on my treadmill and while I walk I will think about what I will make for dinner.

I'm Finally Getting Out Of The House- kinda, sorta, maybe, well at least online...

2011-01-03T10:47:00.000-08:00

2010 is over!!!!

I’m doing a happy dance. I dare say that the year that just passed has been a very challenging year for me.

I just didn’t feel well. I have not been taking care of myself the way I know I should be. I have very little of my energy, I willingly became housebound, I have been in physical pain for long periods of time, and I have lived under a cloud of depression for what seemed like the whole of 2010. As a result of all of this I believe that this is why I gained seven pounds.

Becoming a hermit was the absolute worse. I never understood why some people couldn’t just go outside. ‘Come on; just walk out your door. It’s no big deal.’ Now I feel like I’m living in a parallel universe; I went from a doing-everything-living-life-person to what I am today which is a person who prefers to stay inside out of fear. Irony is a bitch. I’m so pissed off because I don’t want to be in this prison of my own design, I never wanted to be. I have friends and a life to live. I need to get back to it.

What I found odd is when I became a recluse to the outside world; I was difficult for me to be online. I no longer wanted to blog, post on my cherished sites, or even Facebook my friends.

I do not believe it’s too late for me. My desire for change runs very deep in me and I have a lot of determination to not let this get the best of me.

I have started to take vitamins and iron for my anemia, which will greatly improve my energy. I have also decided to eat healthier this year, and put together a doable exercise program to help any physical pain. But my must do in 2011 is to change my life back; I want to be free again, paroled this year. The first step is to start posting and blogging. I need to re-enter society.

Vegas

2010-07-16T17:56:00.001-07:00

Hey Everybody,

This has been an emotional time for me, and it's kind of like I have crawled under a rock. Getting this tummy tuck thing has been hard on me. I think because of the emotional changes that come with the tummy tuck itself, but then I have been going through the seasonal-change depression that comes nicely with a big red bow thanks to my good long time friend bi-polar. One day I slept until 5 pm. Who does that? I don't. I used to be a person that grabbed everyday by the balls and took it on, but right now I'm tired.

It's not all bad. David and I are celebrating our 20th year together by going down to the city of sin. Yep, Las Vegas here we come. We are spending 6 days and 5 nights doing whatever we want.

My favorite thing is the dinner and a show. By dinner and a show I mean the buffet. I don't eat enough to go to a buffet (I used to.) but we are going to one anyway. Our, well mine reason is that I love to see how high people can stack their plate full of food. It's amazing! When you go to a buffet here you usually see reasonable size portions on people's plates. They may make multiple trips, but still. In Vegas all bets are off. Those plates are stacked, AND those guys go back for more. I think it is safe to say as far as buffets go- what happens in Vegas comes home on your butt.

We don't gamble so there is no chance that we will be getting Vegas to pay for our trip. We will still have a blast anyway.

I did a youtube video- there's a link to it on the top right hand corner. It's the most recent video. I love you all.

Lot's of Time But Nothing to Do Until Now

2010-06-10T17:50:00.000-07:00

I haven’t been blogging because my life has been boring!!!! Wait why do I need exclamations for that sentence? It’s totally uncalled for. If I was to blog my life it would have said the same thing day after day….

I watched Maury today and guess what? ‘He was the father.’ After my Maury fix I settled into my retirement recliner toke a nap, ate lunch, surfed the internet, napped, watched another talk show, napped, ate dinner, toke a short walk, napped, and then went to bed. BORING!

What could I blog about? My lunches were always the same: an apple, peanut butter, and a small slice of cheddar cheese. I’m afraid even I couldn’t find merits in my day to blog about.

It’s true I did have a birthday in May. I turned 36 and I didn’t want to talk about it. I guess I reached the age where I dread my birthday, and when they’re here I just want to get them over with. Then I can go back to telling people I’m 34, oops.

Well, I found something else to do besides nap. I’m going to paint my huge kitchen and huge living room. I need you to understand that I have never, ever painted before. I have never held a paintbrush. But how hard can it be? You clean the walls, tape, prime, edge, paint, and then wait for it to dry, right?

I bought the green edging tape. It’s on my kitchen table staring at me. I’m staring at it. It’s a showdown.

The rational part of me is telling me to wait for my father who painted professionally, and loves to paint my walls. It’s also telling me that I just had a tummy tuck so I should take it easy. But phooey, the manic part of me is telling me to break out the cleaning supplies and to start cleaning the walls.

I just want to see what will happen. That’s how I operate. I always push myself, and everything else past its limit to see what the actual limit is. When I fall off the edge then I know. ‘Well I guess that was the edge, who knew?’ Are you like that too? David hates this quality in me. ‘Hmmm…I’m not sure if this will hurt when I touch this red hot burner; I better do it just to check.’ I need to be my own source. Let be honest my example painted me as a dumbass, but it has been my ability to test the waters; well actually jump in feet first, push myself past my limit that has made me a success today.

I’m not going to start this project today. I have to go to a party tonight and if I get too focused on my painting project I won’t have any energy for my friend’s party. Ah, but tomorrow is another day…

A Quick Update

2010-06-07T21:01:00.000-07:00

I’ve been a very bad blogger. I’m so sorry about that. There has been so much going on in my life, but at the same time nothing at all. How does that work? I have no idea.

I have spent the last six weeks focusing on recovering. I don’t want to sound like a whiny baby but it has been a rough road. I’m glad the first six weeks are over; I’m hoping the next six are a little easier to stomach. Ha, that was my lame attempt at humor.

I’m at my goal weight of 160 pounds, which means that I lost a total of 95 pounds thanks to my lapband. My weight loss journey is over. I’m now focusing on maintaining it, and gaining a firm toned body. I’m so happy to be done with that crazy journey.

Another new development since my tummy tuck is my taste buds have drastically changed. I no longer like Starbucks coffee. I know, right! What’s that about? I also am not a fan of most sweets, but I am having a love affair with ice cream; chocolate to be exact. I 'm not an innocent angel...yes I have devilish side when it comes to frozen treats.

Certain smells bother me. Anything that reminds me of the first week of my recovery still makes my stomach churn. I don’t think I will ever be able to use dial anti-bacterial soap for the rest of my life. What a shame.

I’m still pretty tired these days. I was hoping that would end at the six week mark, but I guess it takes my body longer to heal. My mind is still all foggy. I blame my foggy mind for this un-witty blog entry. I just wanted to stop by and say hello, and I miss you guys.

Going In Reverse

2010-05-09T17:58:00.000-07:00

Happy Mother’s Day!

I over did it yesterday by a mile and a half. I had to go to my plastic surgeon for a check-up. Since he is located in Vancouver that meant I had to do some serious walking, and because there were two accidents on the stupid freeway that meant we were almost late, which meant that I had to walk really fast. My tummy did not like that.

I’m glad that I went to my appointment and all, because my doc sucked out 400ml of fluid that had collected in my tummy for no good reason. After that was all done I was flatter.

On the road again…

It was David’s birthday 12 days ago, but because of my surgery no one celebrated it. Well that’s not true; my daughter made him a spaghetti dinner and a carrot cake birthday cake. But for the rest of us we just pushed it forward until it was more convenient for us to celebrate it.

We went out for dinner with David’s parents. Everyone loved their dinner except David; his sucked. Besides David’s dinner being crap, and my post-op tummy tuck starting to rebel it was a lovely dinner. But don’t feel bad for David, his cake and presents made up for the lack of tastiness in his meal.

We ended up getting home at 12:12am. My stomach was killing me. I took some pain killers and went to bed.

I awoke this morning, and guess what? My stomach is still not pleased. I’m still hurting. I’m refusing the hard pain meds but I’m starting to consider myself a dumbass for making such a stupid decision.

I have to be totally honest with you; today’s pain feels like day two’s pain. But on day two I was naïve because I thought everyday would get better and better. Today I’m more of a cynic, because I’m starting to understand that there may be set backs. As a result of this new attitude I’m starting to wonder if this was such a hot idea. Vanity is bad thing.

And you know what else? To get beautiful you have to go through some not so beautiful moments. Like yesterday at my surgeon’s office: He has a three way mirror so I could see myself at every angle. I have to explain something to you: in order to keep everything in place I have to wear a compression garment. (I think I’ve mentioned that before.) But I have added to my wardrobe. Now I wear a compression top with built in bra, and I always wear panties over my Compression garment. (Those CGs have a crotch hole for easy access, so if I were to leave it as-is it would be like I was going commando, and that just isn’t my style.)

My surgeon asked me to lift up my shirt so he could get access to my tummy. ‘Well darling it isn’t that easy.’ First I had to drop my drawers along with my underwear, take off my bra/undershirt combination, and then let him undo the compression garment and let that fall to the ground as well.

So picture me with everything at my ankles, and my bra top at my neck. I looked in the mirror, and I looked so ridiculous with my swollen and bruised belly hanging out. Now I’m fully aware that he has seen me naked, but I was out cold so that doesn’t count. I began to understand why girls wear cute panties and bra sets to see their doctors. I’m going to note that down and put that in my back pocket.

I’m going to see him on Wednesday and I’m going to wear the more easily accessible compression garment. This one has Velcro on the bottom all you have to do is raise it up from the hips. And hopefully on my six month check-up I will be wearing those cutie undergarment sets, with my unburied flat stomach. If not, I’m going to ask for my money back.

Day 11

2010-05-05T13:45:00.000-07:00

What do I have in common with Thanksgiving? I could easily be a float in the Macy’s Day Parade. Oh man, I’m so bloated. In the world of tummy tuck we call it, ‘swell-hell’.
I think my body is rebelling from being cut open, ripped apart, and having the jiggly parts sucked out of it. What can I say?

I’m on day 11. The second week is harder than the first. The first week I took drugs and slept. This week I can’t get comfortable, I’m bloated, and my mind is playing games on me. During week one I had a nice flat stomach; now not so much. I’m beginning to second guess myself as to why I did this.

On the plus side I do have a tiny little waist, and the cutest belly button. Is that worth the $10,000? Maybe, I was always complaining about muffin top, and I definitely don’t have that anymore.

David has taken the week off of work to take care of me. He is calling it a ‘stay-cation’. He won’t let me do anything for myself. I’m surprised that he is not typing this blog entry for me. Again I’m not complaining, who could? My only fear is when he goes back to work I might forget how to put on my own socks. My feet are going to get so cold.

Well that is it for now. I just wanted to let you know that I’m alive and doing well. I will write more soon.

April 28, 2010

2010-04-28T19:30:00.000-07:00

I haven’t blogged in about forever. I’m going to keep this one really short as I don’t have a lot of resources. I had my surgery. I saw the first results today. Not sure what I feel about the results. Changed my compression garment- sorry I did that. I hope it doesn’t affect my results. I’m exhausted now.

No Clue On How To Title This Entry.

2010-04-22T23:44:00.000-07:00

It's almost midnight. I only have 31 hours left, and then I'm divorcing my stomach. Time is going by faster than I thought it would, but that's not too hard , because I thought it would be slooooooow. But it's just so/so slow. Tomorrow the cleaners come, and I have to start preparing for my road trip to my in-laws house. I wanted to pack 12 pillows; yes I do have that many available for packing, I'm my own Bed, Bath, and Beyond store. Wait did they go out of business? It doesn't matter you get the point.

It's time for bed. I have taken my sleeping meds. (a perk of being bipolar) This blog entry doesn't even make sense to me, but I had to write something. *Note to self: Do not blog while on sleeping medication. I'm going to put that in my back pocket for a later date. The funny thing is; I won't remember blogging this in the morning. I get amnesia from my sleeping pills. So that means when I open my blog tomorrow I will be reading this for the first time just like you are. How cool is that?

Wait, what was I blogging about? I'm having to think... oh right, only 31 hours until my surgery. Are you as excited as I am? I'd better go to bed. Thanks for reading.

Can't Stop Laughing

2010-04-21T21:21:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtp1xHvkVOk

Now it’s official I have lost it. Check out my newest youtube video.

Watching Paint Dry

2010-04-20T22:16:00.000-07:00

Only 81 hours left until my life changes forever. In 81 hours I will be free from muffin top, and an overhang of belly flab that has haunted me forever.

When I got my lapband surgery I don’t remember counting down the hours. In fact I was too busy having my 'last meals'. Let’s see in 81 hours I would have been able to fit in five trips to Starbucks for my last rounds venti mochas and massive chocolate chip cookies, three runs to Dairy Queen for a large Blizzard, three trips through a Wendy’s drive-thru, a visit from the Pizza Hut delivery guy, a meal at Red Robin, and a ceremonious farewell cake and ice cream party. I probably could have done more buffeting, but I had to fast before my surgery.

I really don’t remember what my actual ‘last meal' was. I just remember having a lot of them. Those were good times. Yeah, but when it was time for surgery David had to roll me into the hospital due to the gazillion calories that I had consumed during my feasting.

For this life changing surgery I no longer have the desire to finance all of the fast food joints in town. So how do I fill my time? I have no idea. I could watch 81 episodes of Dr. Phil. No thank you; I think I would rather eat myself to death.

Tomorrow my friend is coming over to go shopping with me for David’s birthday. I have no idea what to get him. I want it to be something special after all I have nothing but time on my hands. I should be able to figure out something good to get him for his birthday. However in the afternoon I will be watching paint dry.

Thursday, I must get the house clean for the cleaners who are coming on Friday. Not clean-clean, but organized, and then after I'm finished I'll watch paint dry.

Friday, I must pack, watch paint dry until David comes home from work, take David out for his birthday dinner, and make the long trip out to his parent’s home where we will be staying the night.

Saturday, I will rise at 4:30 am, be at the clinic at 6:00 am, and at 7:00 am I will be counting backwards from 10.

Sunday, I will wake up and wish it was today when I wasn’t in so much pain. Be careful what you wish for...

Only 8 Days To Go Until My Tummy Tuck!!!!!!!

2010-04-16T14:15:00.000-07:00

I’m rested up today, and reality has set in. I’m getting a full tummy tuck, muscle repair, and lipo done in eight short days!

There is so much to do. I have to shop. Normally I love shopping but shopping for medical supplies turns out to be on the bottom of my list of favorite things to shop for.

Yesterday, in the spirit of preparing for the big even I decided to venture into a medical supply shop. It was like walking into a car dealership, but instead of cars for sale it was wheelchairs and other motorized riding scooters that were up for sale. Row after row of wheelchairs and scooters, I didn’t know if I was supposed to take one to test drive while I shopped or what. I almost did; come on, some had baskets attached to them.

The thing that scared me the most is: this massive store was crowded. The malls may be empty, but wheelchair-scooter stores are packed. I guess it’s true the baby boomers still have all the money. My generations, and all the generations after mine are so screwed.

My shopping list included: latex gloves, hot & cold packs, two types of non-shower cleansers, two bed protection pads, and finally my favorite-a potty seat riser. Oh and there is still much more to buy, but I can buy the rest some where else. I need to support the malls. I wanted to buy a scooter, but none of them came in blue.

Today I called a house cleaning company to come in and do a full clean of my joint. I figure if I do it myself I run the risk of going manic or getting ill from exhaustion. We can’t have that can we? There is still so much to do around the house that the cleaners can’t do. I will have to get those things done myself. UGH. I am going to re-organize the office, the Cookie Monster room, (Yep, I have a room just for Cookie Monster.) clean out the refrigerator, kitchen pantry, cupboards, and finally I have to de-clutter every room in my home. Basically I have to make my home look like a show home. Currently my home is not messy; you could come over for dinner right now, and I would be proud to have you. But it has to be more than perfect after my surgery, because if it’s not I will fall into a deep depression. It’s just part of my illness. Don’t worry I have a list and I’m taking it slow.

There is so much to get done…

Am I Snoring Too Loud???????

2010-04-14T20:34:00.000-07:00

I’m not taking care of myself the way I should be. I should’ve gone to the gym, but I went to Starbucks with a friend instead. I should’ve had a healthy lunch, but I opted for Cheerio’s with a banana, because I was too lazy to prepare a chicken breast. Now I’m sitting in my recliner eating Hershey Kisses. No wonder I feel like crap.

I need to get busy doing stuff, but I feel like sleeping. That’s doing something, right?

If you don’t know I’m getting a tummy tuck on April 24th-that’s right it’s only ten days away. There is so much to do! I don’t want to do any of it. Nada. None. Nothing. I need to clean the house, but instead I decided that making a bigger mess would be a better idea. I should be doing laundry. Nah, instead there is a mountain of dirty clothes that is so tall that if you were to climb it, you would need extra oxygen to get to the top. Youtube videos- those guys, I should be editing them. Forget about it. Like I said nothing. Instead of being a stream of activity I have turned into a pond of laziness.

I just went to sleep for a few hours…I can’t even muster the energy for this blog entry.

I will try and write more in a few days. What’s a matter with me? I think I’m just overwhelmed.

I did manage a short Youtube video.

Shrinking in Pictures

2010-04-10T11:23:00.001-07:00

My weight loss journey started 25 years ago when I was ten; now I'm 35. I'm tired. But my lapband pushed me through. I'm at the end...well near the end. I thought I would give you a snapshoot in time of the changes I have gone through. Enjoy.

Now Were Tummy Tuck Talking

2010-04-08T08:25:00.000-07:00

I swore when I started this blog that I would not ‘advertise’. You will never see a Maybelline ad on the right hand column of my blog. I’m not in this to make money. I’m in it to fart around. (Truth.) I’m about to sound like an advertisement but it is necessary; trust me.

This one goes out to all of the ladies who are considering, in line for, or even had reconstructive surgery. (A tummy tuck, Boob job, lipo, ect…) As you know I am getting a tune up myself, and being a good researcher I have been all over the internet looking for a site that will answer all of my plastics questions.

One day a woman emailed and told me about a private message board called Tummy Tuck Talk. Oh My Gosh this site is WONDERFUL. This site leaves no stone unturned. Every member is an active participant, and each of them is willing to answer every question you can think of. No longer do I Google…I just ask. And boom within minutes there are 10 responses. This site is a community of women.

Now, it is an exclusive site. In order to become part of this site you do have to be in some process of a plastic surgery situation, weather it is considering, planning, getting reading, during, or a veteran.

I will strongly caution you on one thing: it is addicting.

If you do decide to hop on over tell them Amy C. sent you, and then once your in make sure you friend me!
http://tummytucktalk.ning.com/

There Are So Many Ways To Blog:

2010-04-07T09:57:00.000-07:00

I’ve been reading a lot of blogs lately. Reading blogs has kept me off of Ebay, which has been wonderful for my Amex card. I’m noticing some blogs are like diaries of what’s happening during people’s day, including their thoughts and feelings. I decided to make a mock blog for a house wife…with two kids, a husband, and no dog.

Here is an example of her blog:

‘I was driving the kids to school this morning, and Jenny decided that she was going to get sick all over the backseat of the car, and her brother Jake. I had to haul them both back home. Jake is an unruly child! Why must everything be a battle with him? He threw a temper tantrum because his Spider Man underwear was in the laundry. I could barely keep him from rolling around on the ground, kicking, and screaming; the boy is seven! I finally appeased him with the promise of ice cream. While I was fighting with Jake; Jenny threw up all over my bed; why didn’t she use the bowl I provided her? I didn’t have time to re-make my bed, so I put Jenny on the couch. I was just praying that there would be no more accidents. I had to find someone to take Jake to school. Mrs. Michaels from across the street, bless her 80 year old heart agreed to drive Jake back to school. He left the house with an ice cream stain on the front of his t-shirt. I am not likely to win mother-of-the-year.

I was frustrated because this always seems to happen on a day where I have something planned just for me. My best friend Fanny and I were going to go out to lunch, and then treat ourselves to mani-pedi. It’s been two months since I’ve spoiled myself. Jim controls the money. I feel like I’m slipping away from reality. I called Fanny to tell her that I had to cancel our lunch date. She was furious. This is the third time I’ve had to cancel on her. Fanny has no children, and is single. She doesn’t understand what its like to have sick a child, and a controlling husband like Jim who works an obscene amount of hours!!!

Speaking of Jim, I haven’t seen him lately; he tells me that he’s working, but I know he’s lying. I have no concrete proof, just a gut feeling. He assigned himself to work with Sheri, who happens to be knock-out gorgeous. I had no ideas that it was so imperative to work until two in the morning! I don’t think I could handle a forth affair; especially when I think I’m pregnant again. Jenny isn’t the only one getting sick. I’m too scared to take a pregnancy test. I talked to my friend Rachael, and she says that I should take a test, and then confront him about the affair. My mother says I should leave the bastard. I don’t even know if I love him anymore???

I have my secrets too. Last week I ran into an old boyfriend from high school. We had coffee, BUT nothing else. He’s divorced. I can’t get him off of my mind. He gave me his phone number. Should I call?

It’s hard being married to Jim, with two children, and the possibly of another one on the way. I depend on him for everything. Jim works, controls the money, and what if I am pregnant? I adore being able to stay at home with my children. I know that I'm lucky. Jim reminds me of it every chance he gets.

I would like to have some control of my life. I was supposed to go to the gym this morning! I haven’t gone in three weeks. Why haven’t I been going to the gym lately? I’ve gained six pounds. I’m falling apart…

Ahem…
Back to Amy…

I was thinking to myself how come I don’t write about my actual minute by minute stuff. I think because it would look something like this:

‘I rolled out of bed today with one thing on my list of things to do: go shopping with my friend. My friend was late picking me up, which made me upset because I needed my Starbucks fix. When we actually made it to the mall I was in a better mood thanks to the mocha I had in my hand. I spent way too much money on this cute blue coat, but I loved it too much to pass it up. David was making garlic chicken dinner when I got home. I love it when he makes dinner for me. After dinner David and I played Scrabble; David won. I’m convinced he cheated somehow, but I can’t proof it. After a cup of Earl Grey tea we went to bed.’

Boring!

I break my day into subjects, and that is what I blog about.

On this particular day I could have chosen to blog about the following:

A. How my friend drives me crazy because she is late most times.
B. How addicted I am to Starbucks, and if I don't get my fix I’m a grump monster.
C. The cute blue jacket I just had to buy.
D. How much I love David for cooking a meal for me.
E. David cheating at Scrabble.

If I had the other lady’s day I don’t think I would blog. I think I would find the cash, do some crazy stuff to Jim’s favorite organ, give the kid some anti-nausea pills, find a baby-sitter, and get my nails done, but that’s just me.

Manic Monday

2010-04-06T02:29:00.000-07:00

It's 2:23 in the morning and I can stop feeding the 'hungry monster'. At 10:20 I started with an apple, peanut butter, and a slice of cheese. At 11pm I gave into my 'chocolate monster' and ate 10 Hershey Kisses. At 1:19 am I ate the left-over Mexician dinner, and finially I chowed down on a peanut butter cookie. I'm on an all-night food binge. My stomach is finally full...but my mind is so busy. If my mind racing around could burn calories I would be so uber thin. I know it is time for me to go to bed, but on nights like tonight I can't. I just want to run around the house screaming at the top of my lungs. No really I do. I don't want to scream anything in particular. I just have this overwhelming sense to bounce off of the walls.

What does one do when one wants to keep one self occupied? Clean out the closets! Rearrange the pantry! Clean the garage! No I don't want to clean the garage...Run on the treadmill...hey that sounds like fun. It's just another manic Monday...(okay it's Tuesday, but I haven't went to sleep so it doesn't count.)

Fighting Over Chocolate

2010-04-05T12:17:00.000-07:00

This weekend was rough around the edges for me, but I survived. It was touch and go at times. There was talk about bringing in a priest for last rights, and I'm not even Catholic. David suggested carting me down to the hospital. ‘Nope, no way, no how!’

It was a bummer to be sick on a long weekend, especially when I don’t get to see David that often. I can’t wait until tax season is over.

When I did take a moment away from dying this weekend I ended up in a heated discussion with David. I became privy to some vital information: the Easter Bunny was not to have gone s’hopping for Easter gifts for David. I wish someone had contacted the Easter Bunny beforehand. During our ‘discussion’ it was mentioned that the Easter Bunny that David employed did not go s’hopping this year for me. (Fire that bunny!) I thought it was funny that he was stressed about some silly little chocolate; after all he is working a million hours a week, and I really wasn’t expecting him to find the time to s’hop. In the end I had to promise that I wouldn’t give him any gifts. I promised.

The next morning I woke up and David was MIA. I thought he may have gone for a nice 10k run. (I know it’s gross. Who does that?) He came back an hour later with an Easter basket, and a Starbucks for me. I was happy, but I was confused as to why he had done such a thing. But it became clear as soon as I saw that the Easter Bunny had left David an Easter basket full of gifts. ‘Shut up, how did that happen?’ I tried to explain that I was as surprised as he was, but he didn’t believe me.

He told me that he came down to the kitchen to make tea, and he spotted his pile of presents, and thought- Amy is a liar! He then grabbed his coat, and headed out the door.

I don’t think that I lied at all. He told me not to give him anything. The Easter Bunny did it, therefore I’m innocent on all charges. Plus even if I am guilty he deserves all the treasures in the world. I love that guy.

Still Sick

2010-04-03T13:42:00.000-07:00

I'm still sick, but I feel better than I did yesterday. Yesterday was a nightmare. I won't go into the details. Eating wasn't fun, but neither was anything else. I didn't want to even drink water. David being worried went to the store and bought me some ice cream. Before he went he asked me what kind I wanted. It was a very hard choice. I either wanted chocolate or vanilla. (I wish they made one that just had those two flavors. Get rid of strawberry already.) He said he would buy one of each. We could afford the expense; soon David would be rolling in cash from my life insurance money. He came home with a carton of ice cream that was just chocolate and vanilla. (Great I used my wish on ice cream! I could have used my wish on...oh I don't know...getting better.) But still I enjoyed the little bit I could get down.

Today I still feel weak, but I'm positive tomorrow I will be much better.

Have a Happy Easter.

April 1st- No Blog Entry

2010-04-01T18:35:00.000-07:00

No blog today. Caught the stomach flu. Stuck at home with flannel jammies on- that’s good news. (The jammie part, not the stuck at home part.) Watching crap TV. Drinking diet tonic water. (And you thought I was perfect. Who likes tonic water straight up? Yuck! Me! I love the stuff.) Hoping that I die soon, or get better, either one would be a blessing over how I’m feeling at this moment. If I don’t die tonight I will try and write tomorrow. I think I might be a little delusional…

I am Going to the Gym...

2010-03-31T08:59:00.000-07:00

Today is not going to be a day of leisure as days past. Today is different. Today I’m dragging my butt to the gym. Oh man, I hate the gym. I would rather have a root canal than go to the gym, or even better yet play Russian roulette than drop some sweat of on the gym floor.

I will be the first to admit that I’m lazy. I even own a Lazyboy recliner. The way I figure it is this: if the guys at Lazyboy wanted their customers to go to the gym, and be active they would have called their recliners ‘Get-off-your-butt-and-do-something-already’ recliners.

How did I get myself caught up in this mess? It all started yesterday when a friend of mine came over for tea. (Bad sign when friends come over for tea instead of Starbucks. That should’ve tipped me off right there.) My friend is young but having some medical issues, and her dumb doctor told her she needs to exercise to cure her ills. What happened to modern medicine? Isn’t there a pill she can take? I hate voodoo remedies. Anyway she asked if I would workout with her, and since I don't want her to be afflicted with pain anymore I said yes. (Plus she knows my days are flexible.)

Here’s the thing; AFTER I said sure. (And by the way I was sitting comfortably in my Lazyboy recliner.) She told me we would be enjoying the gym’s facilities for two hours each time we went. Excuse me? Can’t you see that I’m lazy? But since I don’t want her to have massive pain, and it probably wouldn’t hurt me to go to the gym I agreed to her two hour Nazi regiment.

I’m all packed and ready to go: I have my cute pink water bottle, a towel, my Cosmo for the exercise bike, my Ipod for the treadmill and elliptical machine, and my medical ID bracelet… just in case.

*I know that once I'm there I will be glad that I went. And did you know that once upon a time I was addicted to going to the gym? It's so strange that the addiction was so easy to break. Weird.

Up Date on My Date

2010-03-30T22:02:00.000-07:00

I’m just going to come out and say it. Things are not going as I planned with my surgery date. It looks like my surgery will be delayed until September. I’m going to be put on a waiting list of course, and I’m going to believe with all of my heart that I will get my surgery in the time frame that I desire. David thinks everything happens for a reason- maybe the anaesthesiologist is too focused on boating during the summer months, and he does a much better job in September. But David he might fish in September. I need the guy present and accounted for. Whatever the reason for the delay I don’t have a choice. I hope the months will go by fast, and I will remind myself that this will be the last summer I go without a bikini. I guess I will have to babble on about something else for the next five months.

Where is Everybody?

2010-03-30T11:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,

I was just looking at my stat counter today and I noticed that there are 2,600 hits for my blog this month. I am very pleased. (I'm doing a happy dance!!!!) I have a question: why are there no comments? Am I that good? Is nothing left to add? Someone must have something to add. Hey, if your a drive-by-blog-reader I totally understand. The thing is: you all know who I am but I have no idea who you are. If you want to share with me that would be really nice. If you perfer to read silently that's okay too. I will love you just the same

Won't You Be My Neighbour.

2010-03-30T10:00:00.000-07:00

A few months ago I received a notice in my mail from a new neighbour who had just arrived in our complex. The note was glossy, and it was an invitation to join a painting-getting-to-know-you-so-we-can-have-barbecues-in-the-summer-and-be-great-neighbours-party! You know what else? If we were to go to this painting party we would be getting appies! (I don’t know what it is about the word ‘appy’ but I simply can’t stand it. There are some words you can shorten, but in my personal opinion appetizer is not one of them.)

I didn’t go. For two reasons:

One, I've never picked up a paint brush. I have my father on permanent retainer, and he does any job for free. He doesn’t even require food; all he needs is a radio that plays country music. Given that my painting skills are zilch I didn’t want to have to send my father over to correct anything that I had touched, so I thought it best that I stay away.

The second reason I didn’t go, and this sounds really shallow, but remember I’m always honest with you guys: I found the letter to be a little too much in your face. We currently live in a time where we don’t go out of our way to meet our new neighbours, and the letter scared me away.

WAIT A MINUTE BACK UP…

Ha! I did the exact same thing as my new neighbour did. Except I did it differently, but with the same intentions; I hosted a complex wide Christmas open house. I went door-to-door handing out Christmas cards inviting all of my neighbours to my home. At the time I felt like a door-to-door salesperson. ‘Hi, I’m Amy. We’ve never met before, but since its Christmas I thought it would be a wonderful time to change that. I’m having a Christmas open ho…’ You get the idea of my sales pitch.

I guess because I didn’t ask people to paint, and I offered ‘appetizers’ the whole complex showed up. I know; how wonderful was that? I know everybody. Well I used to know everybody. People keep moving out, and at this rate I’m going to have to throw another Christmas party next year. I’m so thankful that the door-to-door thing doesn’t bother me.

Ever since my new neighbour moved in I felt as if I should fill a basket with baked cookies and muffins, and take them over to her place. (I mean the painting is done right? What damage could I do now? I’m certainly a better baker than painter.) But something kept me away. Which isn’t like me at all; heck I will befriend a mailbox if I like it enough.

Well isn’t life funny. Last night I was face to face with my note-sending-appy-painting-neighbour. (I’ll call her Jay.) My friend begged me to go to a ‘girly night’ as she put it, which in layman’s terms meant: Arbonne spa party. I didn’t want to go. In fact I was lucky enough to escape my first invite thanks to my medication! But this time I had no time to prepare a crisis. I had to go to this one.

Nothing against Arbonne products they’re actually wonderful products. I dropped over $170 last night. That’s the reason I don’t go to these kinds of parties. My motto is stay away from: Tupperware, Pampered Chef, Mary Kay, Avon, and anything else that involves me sitting in a good friend’s home watching a consultant sell me something. I can’t resist. I love my friend, and they have cookies at their parties.

I should have known this, but it blindsided me just the same; Jay is a straight shooter. She introduced herself as the crazy lady who sent out the invitations. (How did she know I called her crazy?) I’m not used to dealing with straight shooters as most people have filters. But apparently Jay forgot hers at home. (Did I forget to install mine? Darn it, mine is at home too! This is going to be a crazy night.)

Jay also caught me out of my element. The host request we had to do ‘smoky eyes’. Mine looked more like ‘chimney sweep eyes’. I think I’ll stay conservative-thank you very much. But the host was thrilled, and to me that was all that mattered.

Here is the interesting part I think Jay and I share a lot of the same characteristics. I don’t often meet people who are as passionate about life as Jay is. We have the same story; I just haven’t told her yet. Remember the lack of filter that I think Jay misplaced? During the party one of the guest mentioned that they were tanning. And of course I just had to say something in my smart ass way.

The conversation went like this:

18 year old that is killing herself by tanning: (something-something) I’m tanning.

Me: How, there is no sun?

18 year old that is killing herself by tanning: ‘No I’m using a tanning bed.’

Me: ‘Oh, don’t you know those things will kill you?’

18 year old that is killing herself by tanning: ‘Yeah, but I quit smoking.’

Jay talking to me: ‘Way to be passive aggressive… “How are you tanning when there’s no sun…”

OOOO this girl is good. Nobody calls me out like that. Most people either don’t catch on, or they don’t know how to confront me when I’m playing cat and mouse. One point for Jay!

I learned a few things last night.

1. I should still stick to my princple and avoid home parties, as they are too costly.
2. I’m not suited for the ‘smoky eye’ look
3. I shouldn’t judge people based on their choice of the words, such as ‘appy’.
4. Jay has my one of my cherished characteristics in a person, which is ‘I do what I want, as long as it makes me happy.’
5. Maybe I will drop by Jay’s house with a basket of assorted cookies, because after all she is a character, and us characters have to stick together.

Communication Breakdown

2010-03-29T12:35:00.000-07:00

Writing this entry may take longer than usual because of the simple fact that I must mult-task. I’m sitting by the phone trying to make it ring. I want a call from my surgeon’s office telling me that there has been a cancellation, and my number is up. So far the phone has not rung, damn! I’ve gotten so pathetic that I’m call forwarding all of my home calls to my cell phone. I don’t want to miss the call.

My day is filled with miserable hope. My telephone rings often throughout the day, but most times I find a telemarketer at the other end of the line; excitingly announcing that I have been selected for a free cruise to the Bahamas. I tell him that he has called five months too early. I have to wait for my bikini body before I can cruise anywhere.

Its taking everything I have not to call the surgeon’s office, and tell the receptionist that I’m willing to prepay now. ‘Here just take whatever you want out of my bank account, and I’ll meet the doctor on the operating table.’ I know he’s good. He has all of the qualifications, certifications, and references I need. He can draw on my tummy with his sharpie just before my operation. It’s all good.

Apparently it doesn’t work that way. I have to meet him, he informs me of how much I get to pay before he does the surgery, and he gets to draw on my tummy at the consultation. It will be the same outcome, but alright. I guess he is unaware that I have the ‘retirement-recliner’, and I have been ready and waiting for months.

I am perplexed by my inability to wait. When I had my lapband surgery I moved my lapband forward a month. I could’ve done it at the end of August, but I decided to do the surgery at the beginning of October. I wanted that surgery just as badly. If you think about it I was going to receive a tool that would help me with my struggle with weight. This surgery isn’t as important. Getting a tummy tuck will be more painful, and the end result will be the elimination of muffin top. The lapband eliminated 83 pounds, and saved my life.

Why am I losing my cool? Waiting by the phone sucks. I think it’s time for me to relax. I’m not going to lie. I’m still going to call forward my calls to my cell. What if I win another free trip? It would be a tragedy to miss such a golden opportunity.

Emails

2010-03-26T13:43:00.000-07:00

From now on no more chick flicks. I’m going blood and guts all the way. Except I have a roadblock and his name is David. He loves romance movies. He sees himself as the male lead character and me as the female lead. My husband cried at the end of the movie ‘The Notebook’! He identified with the husband and wife; to him they were him and me. What I know for sure is that if I should get dementia, move into a care home, David will park himself there, and try everyday to make me remember who I am and that we were madly in love. His favorite part was when the characters died in each other’s arms. (David was positive that the woman in the movie knew who her husband was when they died together. Awww...)

I’m revising my chick flick criteria. I’m not going to watch any life long friendship movies. I’m going to burn my copy of ‘Beaches’ as soon as I’m done writing this entry.

As most of you know I’m bipolar, and before I was diagnosed I went through bouts of depression, and highs. I had (the word is HAD) a wonderful friend, which I let go of during a bout of depression. There was no massive fight, or mean words said. I just told her I was too tired to have any friends. We were 25.

Ever since that moment I regretted my words, but I was sick. I would see her face everywhere. I missed her so much, especially as I started to get well. Do not misunderstand me in anyway- I am not making my mental health as an excuse for terminating the friendship; it just played a big part in it. I take full responsibility, and because of that I waited to connect back up with her until I was stable enough to be the kind of friend she deserved.

I sent her an email explaining what had happened, and that I was truly sorry. She sent me one back saying that I was so brave, and beautiful. I sent her an email telling her that I wanted to be her friend again. She sent one back, and her email said, ‘Goodbye.’

I’m not blaming her, she has the right to decide who to befriend, and she decided not to take another chance with our relationship. Fine. Am I hurt? Yes, but not for the reasons I thought I would be.

I’m so mad at being bipolar!! I hold it together. ‘Being bipolar isn’t that bad.’ ‘I’ve learned to deal with the ups and downs.’ ‘My family and friends are very understanding.’ ‘My medication keeps me stable.’ ‘Bipolar is just something I have to work through.’ I’m tired of reciting those sentences day-after-day.

Bipolar has taken away my career, my friendships, my trust, other people’s trust in me, and my ability to function at times.

But let’s be fair bipolar has bestowed gifts upon me too, such as: weight gain, medication, free hospital stays, paranoia, low self-esteem because I’m feel like I’m not living up to my potential, and seizers from the bipolar medication, (But don’t fear I control the seizers with more medication.)

We all have our own crosses to bare, our own struggles. I just wanted to get a piece of my old life back. I wanted to get back something that I loved. I know that I have to move forward and focus on the good things I have now. I know that I’m more blessed than most. But damn it, I think I deserve a second chance; I’m not a bad person.

I will never give up on my quest to have a better life. Bipolar may have put a weight on my ankle, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t move forward.

As for my lost friendship there is nothing that I can do other than wish her well. As for my mental well-being there is only one thing that I can do, and that is to keep fighting.

I have to sign off, and start working on David’s notebook. You know, just in case… Oh and put my copy of 'Beaches' on Ebay. Burning it is too harsh.

My Lastest & Greatest Ring.

2010-03-25T08:47:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday Holly wanted to make cupcakes, but since she is lactose intolerant the days of relying on Betty Crocker’s cake mixes are over. She has to make her cake by scratch. By the end of the ordeal there was flour everywhere, from the cupboard door knobs, the cupboards themselves, and to top it off there were flour mountains on the floor. She even had flour on her cheeks, and her bum.

When she was cleaning up she informed me that her lactose milk tasted, and smelled weird. Even though the milk said it was good until April 4th it had expired, which meant my kitchen gave its life for nothing.

David felt bad for Holly. Being the dad he is he went and bought her cupcakes. The best part of these cupcakes was that they were the Easter kind with plastic chicken, and sheep rings on top!

Holly claimed the one and only chicken ring, but the good news is I was able to snag a sheep ring. Guess what? I’m wearing it right now. (It’s uber huge too.) I have been wearing it for the last three days. Holly had her chick ring jacked at school.

I have went out for coffee, conducted business, shopped, went to my physician, and hung out with my friends while wearing my Super-Sheep-Ring. I didn’t do it so they would mention it. I didn’t expect them to. In hindsight wearing my Super-Sheep-Ring to the doctors may have been over the top, but what’s done is done.

You might be thinking that I have lost my mind. True. Can’t argue with you there. If I had to guess most of you are probably reading this and thinking, ‘Doesn’t she know she’s 35 years old?’ I am totally aware of my age-thank you very much.

I have a theory as to why I do what I do.

I haven’t grown up all the way; part of my brain is still 16. I’m a very lucky 16 year old in that I have money, a nice home, a cool ride, no curfew, and I am able to go to Vegas whenever the mood strikes me.

*Just to clarify I did say part of my brain is 16. Not the whole thing. There is a part of my brain that acts 47. This is the part that makes sure that the bills are paid, Holly is well taken care of, maintains my home, enjoys adult relationships, and has the ability to makes adult decisions on important matters.

But why am I still 16? Simple, no one has required me to grow up. At 16 I was living on my own, working, and taking care of myself, so I already had that going for me. But I met David at 16, and ever since I met him nothing has been required of me on the ‘growing up front’. He has always liked me the way I am. To be honest I think both of us are stuck in our respective ages of when we met. When we are together on my good days all we do is play, and have fun.

There are two secrets we have for our relationship success: We don’t fight to be right, and we tell the other person EXACTLY what we want from the other person BEFORE the other person sets off to make us happy. We never play the game of: ‘If you really loved me then you would’ve known what to do.’ That game sucks!

Since David and I met when we were so young we brought no baggage in to this relationship as a result we get to live in a bubble. But that brings me back to my point. We never forced one another to grow up in spirit. As a result I pretty much do whatever I want when the mood strikes me. David finds me, and my antics endearing. My friends just know to expect the unexpected when it comes to me.

Totally off topic- but you know what gives me the warm and fuzzies? When my friends tell me that they wish that they could take some of David’s ‘Husband DNA’ and give it to their significant other. I wish they could too; then I would be rich! Wait…then everybody would be married to accountants…I have to rethink that idea.

Sleep Good.

2010-03-24T10:27:00.000-07:00

Rise and Shine! I feel 80% better than I did yesterday. I finally got some sleep. Zombie Amy is gone, alive Amy is here. I am still a little drowsy from getting some shut eye last night. I think it might be because of the sleeping pill.

The good news is there was no online purchasing, or cat grooming last night. However I may put the cat thing on my list of things to do today.

Since I’m not feeling at full power today I have made the executive decision not to push myself too hard. I will do some exercises, and chores, but after that I am just going to hang out, maybe go for some decaf Starbucks with a friend.

Even my blog entry is short…

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep...

2010-03-23T22:09:00.000-07:00

I guess I am in the mood to blog. Lately I have been chasing sleep the way I think drug addicts must have to chase their next high. ‘I’m tired man, can I have a sleeping pill, just one, man.’ The truth of the matter is: I am well stocked in sleeping pills. I’ve got three different kinds; I am totally covered.

I’m suppose to keep a sleep log which logs each time I get up to go pee, have tea, or whatever I happen to want to do at 2:56 in the morning. I also have to record the amount of time I spend outside of my covers. My doc wants to measure my sleep patterns to make sure I’m not getting ‘more’ bipolar; whatever that means.

Okay here’s the problem: I was blessed with a small bladder, so I go to the bathroom a few times a night. (I got clarification on this just in case…) I’m supposed to record these small bathroom blips. My doctor wants to know exactly how many times I get up, what time, how long, and for what reason. As you can imagine when I got up to go pee I was faced with the task of remembering the actual time I awoke, and how long I was out of bed. Just calculating all of this would wake me up. I finally said, ‘Screw it’, and started to invent fake potty break times. I sleep better now.

Currently I am pulling all night think tanks in my head. I’m pondering such things as: How do I improve the cupboard space in my kitchen, I wonder if I could dye, and cut my own hair tonight, I wonder if I could dye, and cut the cat’s hair tonight, or would it be a good idea to remodel the house before David wakes up to go to work in the morning. These are not good thoughts to have at 1 am.

It’s been about a week since I have had a quality night’s sleep. My eyelids feel heavy, but still my mind races on! My mind is too strong, plus I really can order furniture off of the internet, and I have a feeling if I lose anymore sleep the furniture trucks will be rolling in tomorrow morning. American Express and online ordering is a bad combination for a manic bipolar that hasn’t slept for a week; let’s just say everything becomes a ‘good idea’.

To save my family from bankruptcy I am going to give in and take a sleeping pill tonight, and hopefully I haven’t went too far into the ‘Everybody Dance’ part of my brain, so I will be able to recover, and feel better by tomorrow. If I’m up at 4:00 in the morning tomorrow I’m totally going to blog about it. If my blog is quiet then that means that I’m tucked nice and snug up in my bed not ordering crap off of Ebay.

My First Video is Now On Youtube...

2010-03-22T11:20:00.000-07:00

I did it! I did it! I posted my first youtube video...eek! (Entry below explains everything.) Yeah you're probably right; I have lost my mind, but that is besides the point.

Here is the link:
http://www.youtube.com/user/acdane

Make sure you subscribe to me so you can catch all of my crazy videos! Ahhh...what have I done. I did it live in one take too; can you tell?

Update…

I have emailed my friends to let them know that I am now a super star via the internet, and now my tummy is in knots. Have you ever done something which you thought was a stellar idea at the time, but then afterwards thought better of it? Like adopting an orange-ring-stealing-cat. I’m just saying is all. But now that the word has been spread, the show must go on, even though I am having second thoughts. I think it became more real when I informed my friends.

I like to live life on the edge, and this gives me a thrill. I am really committed to this project, but I just wanted to share my feelings with everyone. I am shaking in my boots. I think...no I KNOW I am going to need your support to go through with this project. I'm not doing this without you guys. You guys are my biggest online fans- and I love you for it.

I'm going to do something I have never done...

If you send me comments either on my blog, or my youtube account I will dialogue with you. I haven’t done that before, because I wanted to remain a mystery, but now the cat is out of the bag, and you are about to see all of me. There will be no mystery anymore. It is going to be a very interesting ride.

Youtube

2010-03-21T19:29:00.000-07:00

I have been vey busy lately. If you must know I have been enjoying my favorite past-time- SHOPPING! 'Cept I haven’t been shopping for my usual fare, instead I have purchasing items that are way out of my comfort zone.

I had to get a few things from the electronics store. I bought a web cam, a HD camcorder, and a movie editor. I am going to be a star.

I am going in for a tummy tuck at the end of May. To get ready for my adventure I have been researching the web, and youtube to get an idea of what other people have experienced during their tuck. I found some brave people who have shared their experiences, but after watching them I felt like I wanted even more information. I wanted a more ‘personal’ look inside of their journeys.

I decided that I would become one of the masses, and put my tummy tuck life online for people to experience as I go through it. I will post my first link to my first youtube intro video soon.

(I have to learn how to use all my new toys.)

Pulling An All Nighter...

2010-03-18T02:23:00.000-07:00

It’s two in the morning and I can’t sleep. I have taken something to help me sleep but it hasn’t started to work yet. I found a few things hilariously disturbing today:

More people are addicted to prescription pills than most other substances combined. Holy Cow! I take over 18 pills a day to control my bipolar. That’s not including the pills that I have to take to help relieve the nausea, head aches, and insomnia that are caused by the bipolar meds. I hope my brain is reaping as much reward as it can from the medication intervention. You think by taking 6,570, which doesn’t take in to account the extra medication I have to take to treat the side-effects of the bipolar medication that my liver must be toast.

I have begged the doctors to lessen my medication intake, and they do, but then I get sick, and then I have to increase the doses again. It just doesn’t seem all together fair.

I have an idea- to all of those people who really want to take crappy medication-you can have mine on the condition I will magically feel better! ...I knew that sounded too good to be true! I am begging you all to stay clean, and I will do my part and take all the prescription drugs for you. Leave it with me.

Another thing that made my jaw fall to the ground today was when I heard that a New Jersey woman who is 600 pounds and is eating her way to 1,000 pounds.

Really? Can we do that? No! Really? Shut up, she has two kids! Is she a complete moron? This is a new one for me; if you can’t lose it- add to it!

I am really frustrated. Is this what we find entertaining? Who wants this weight record to be their claim to fame? She is a mother of two children. Why couldn’t her legacy be even a greater goal? She could start by raising a wonderful family that will carry on for generations to come. (Instead she'll be dead.) To me building a beautiful family is more important than breaking any record book. Hey, Ms. Simpson, please reconsider.

I am getting tired and I have no idea if I am making any sense…I think I am going to try and sleep…see you in the morning. I wonder if I’ve even made sense in this entry??? It's dangerous to be under the influence of sleeping pills and blog at the same time.

The Waiting Game

2010-03-12T10:25:00.000-08:00

I’m supposed to be doing productive things around the house today. Today is my favorite day of the week, because it’s ‘Clean the house day’. I would really like to call it: ‘I am going shopping, because I don’t want to get in the way of the housekeeper day.’ (Insert sigh)

Speaking of clothes shopping; I haven’t went. I am forcing myself to wear last seasons old crappy clothes. I just can’t justify buying new clothes just before a tummy tuck, which the date is has yet to be determined. I have a strong feeling that I am not going to be getting my surgery until the end of May. Do you have any idea how much torture I'm endearing being forced to wait that long? Twelve weeks! It might as well be a life time. Maybe I should reconsider this no shopping rule that I’ve imposed on myself.

I should tell you that I did buy two new things: jammies; for my tummy tuck recovery of course. Oh crap I forgot I bought one more ‘un-mentionable’. This fine garment is my coming home from the hospital outfit. I am going to try my best to explain what this fine garment looks like. Just in case you would like to follow my fashion lead.

It’s a moo-moo, with white plastic snap buttons that go from top to bottom, it’s is a lovely shade of baby blue, and made of a light weight terry clothe material, but my favorite feature of said outfit is the pastel floral design found on the neck and shoulder region of the moo-moo.

My best educated guess is that you can find this moo-moo, or something similar at your favorite K-Mart, or Wal-Mart shopping boutiques.

I think I may burn it after my recovery, or save it until I’m 90. Both would be acceptable options.

Let’s just recap:

I have the moo-moo. I have the ‘retirement recliner’ a.k.a lift-recliner. I have the pjs. I have the money. I have the courage. I just need the darn consultation!

If I can get my car insurance company to give me more than I paid for my car, and do it within 3 days. Why can’t I get the plastic surgeon (who I want to pay) see me sooner? Life just doesn’t make sense.

Night Time Rituals

2010-03-10T09:50:00.000-08:00

I have a quirk. My quirk is I get my home nice for night time burglars, or anyone else who might stop by. I know that sounds strange, but let me explain. Before I go to bed my home has to be pristine, everything has to be put away, no dishes on the counter, the kitchen counters have to sparkle, and so on. I often wonder why I do all of this work before bed. Who am I doing it for? …burglars, family or friends who show up at 2:00 am and need a place to crash, or is it for the strangers who have been running away from a ‘bad guy’ all night in the pouring rain, and now have to use my phone to call for help? God forbid I have newspapers lying around! What would those drenched strangers think? ‘Yeah, we're sorry but your house is a little messy we’ll use the neighbour’s phone. We sure hope the next place will be tidier’

How sad is that? I am tidying up my home for imaginary people!

Thank goodness no baddies were chasing a poor innocent couple last night, because my home was anything but tidy.

The kitchen dishes are piled up a mile tall, the floor needs to be swept, and cleaned, and the counters need scrubbing. The living room is messy. Papers are every where, and all of our throw blankets have been thrown around; not carefully folded on the sofa and chairs. The laundry hasn’t been done in the last few days, which would cause a major problem; I would'nt have bath towels to offer my late night guests.

I have a strong feeling that I am still in shock from Sunday. (If you have no idea what I am talking about; stop right here, and read the entry below. It’ll explain everything.)

Today is a big day. Today is the day I am getting my retirement-recliner-chair, and my new car. I am thankful that the recliner is coming today because I need a chair where I can watch crappy TV, and sleep at the same time.

I am just putting this out there: If you were planning to stop by for a late night visit; can you come tomorrow? I don’t know if I’ll have it in me to prepare the house for your arrival. Thursday night feel free to stop by. That being said I would strongly prefer it if you weren’t a burglar, or a bad guy.

Last Sunday Was No Walk In The Park...But Maybe I Should've Walked Instead.

2010-03-09T21:49:00.001-08:00

This is a non-edited entry…mostly because it is a rambling story.

It was a cloudy, grey, Sunday, around 9:30 in the morning. I was driving (if you could call it that) the car I love so dearly, the car that was only three-and-half months old, the car that was fully loaded.

Here is my explaination to my split second story…

I was geography lost. I merged into a left hand turn lane at an intersection, and I cut off a woman in a 1989 Ford minivan, she did one of those ‘What the hell are you doing you crazy driver’ honks, I became flustered, I thought I had the right of way… Can you see where this is going?

Yep, I turned left into two lanes two lanes of oncoming traffic. I am admitting to you that I am 100% responsible for this accident. The best news is that NO ONE WAS HURT! (I don’t usually yell, but that is really important to emphasis.) Not a scratch, no broken bones, nothing. How all seven of us walked away as-good-as-new will always be a mystery to me. All I can do is get on my knees, and thank God for watching over all of us that day.

As expected the other drivers and I were stunned. I must say that the other drivers were kind to me. (As kind as you could expect one to be after their car just got totalled because some idiot turned left on a green.) No one yelled at me…

Wait there was someone who wouldn’t stop yelling at me…it was the lady in the 1989 minivan. The lady that I had previously cut off. She took it upon herself to yell at me, thank gawd somebody had to do it. She also proudly and loudly told anyone, and everyone that she would gladly be a witness when this accident went to court. The police had to ask her to leave.

I didn’t feel sorry for myself; sure I was sobbing on the side of the road, but I was the one who had caused all of this hardship on to the others. That being said it was difficult to stand at the side of the road by myself while wearing a hot pink wool jacket. I couldn’t have picked a better time to make a bold fashion statement.

I was supposed to be meeting a friend from the states. That is what led me into the left-hand turn lane. I was trying to meet up with her. She finally found me when she saw the flashing lights. She did stay for a minute to make sure I was alright, and she did wait at the coffee shop for me, but it took over an hour for the police to take pictures, listen to the crazy lady in the minivan, tow the cars away, clean up the accident, talk to the victims, and issue me tickets. She came up to Canada with a friend, and they were here to check out the post Olympic aftermath, so she couldn’t wait around all day, and it was obvious I wasn’t going to go with them as we originally planned. I will be honest and say I do wish I had a friend with me especially when I couldn’t remember my own phone number to call David, or when I was told that I had to stay because ‘The police have to deal with you.’ But like I said I did it with my chin up. And it was then I realized that people don’t think like I do. People have their own ways of doing business. Just because I would have stayed and never left my friend doesn’t mean that she didn’t have the right not to have a great time on her day trip. Why should my downfall ruin her trip to Canada? My friend is a great person otherwise.

I was very lucky to have other friends who dropped everything and drove like maniacs to get to me. (They even went grocery shopping for me that night.) I love them so very much. I think I was hugged non-stopped for 10 minutes straight when I got home. I am very lucky to have that much support.

Getting back to the scene of the crime…

When the police officer finally ‘dealt with me’ I found out that I was going to be receiving a traffic violation ticket. Bring on the tickets I was just happy that no one was hurt. However in true Amy style I did say, ‘Is there anyway I can argue my way out of this?’ I really liked this police officer she had a sense of humour. I received only one ticket for $84. You and I both know that I could’ve been ticketed until the cows came home, but I think she took pity on me.

Today my insurance company called me and told me that my car is a total write-off. I went in to see the adjuster and they not only paid me fair market value, but they paid me more than what I paid for the car three-and-half months ago. (I also got a tax voucher. No need to pay tax again so soon.)

Here is the other weird occurrence…

The dealership where I originally purchased my Focus had the exact same make, model, and color on their lot. Shut up! I know, right? ICBC cut me a check today, and Ford put a sold sign on the car. I am picking it up tomorrow. It will be like this never happened. I’m out 130.00 for the ticket, and the rental car, but nothing else. How is that possible? And another weird thing is that everyone who dealt with me during my ordeal was so kind to me; from the police officer to the insurance adjusters. My insurance adjuster was apologetic for the letter that she had to send to me which stated that I was 100% at fault. (What planet are you from? I know I was 100% at fault- in your face minivan lady. I’m truly sorry that you’ll never get your day in court.)

Things that I have learned this week:

I am lucky to be alive.

Ford Focus’ are built very well. (I didn’t even get a headache.)

I can’t expect people to react the same way I would react if I were in their shoes.

Be thankful for the people in my life who will drop everything to come and rescue you, and then when you get home won’t stop hugging you.

Rental cars suck- but always rent them online you’ll get better deals. My rental car was only $19 a day! Use Enterprise they pick you up and DROP you off.

Eat chocolate because you never know what will happen to you tomorrow. Some idiot could turn left on a green.

I’m still in shock with all that went down last Sunday, but I am going to get through it. I’m tough, and still wearing my hot pink wool jacket.

All of us are lucky to be alive.

Seriously? No kidding...

2010-03-01T13:15:00.000-08:00

Let’s talk about friends. What makes for a great friendship?

We all have different criteria, but for me it is simple: my friends have to be able to make me laugh. Not chuckle, but the gut busting, roll on the floor kind of laughing.

I know you probably are thinking that my standards are pretty free and easy, but they aren’t. In order to make me laugh so the milk is coming out of my nose- that is if I was stupid enough to be drinking milk while I was with said friend; they have to live up to some pretty high standards.

My friend has to know me very well, because most things that are funny to my friend and me are not funny to the rest of the world. The most hilariously things come from the famous in-side jokes. This shows trust, because someone I didn’t know well, or trust would think I’m was crazy if I was rolling on the ground turning purple due to some random thing that popped into my head. It also shows that this person and I are bonded stronger than Super Glue. (Which really isn’t too hard to be; unless it is on your fingers then it is a pain in the ass to unglue, but on every else forget about it. Super Glue really sucks. So Super Glue is really not the best example, but you get the point that I am trying to make.) I’m really happy when both of us are rolling around busting our guts.

My friend shows that they care about me by putting a smile on my face by doing or saying silly things when I’m in the dumps. I also like it if they spring for a coffee too, but that is beside the point. (I pony up for coffee too just so you know.)

A good friend won’t mind if I happen to crack up when they fall victim to a minor injury providing that there was humour attached to it, and they themselves will be able to look back on it and laugh…one day. (And it is even funnier if I by accident… of course; caused this slight mishap. Providing there is no doctors, bandages, or lawsuits involved.) This shows that my friend has forgiveness and tolerance.

My friends have to be honest too, but I like to believe that I don’t pick pathologic liars to befriend.

Why am I bringing this up? I got to thinking a few days back about all of my friends and what they had in common, and I realized they all made me laugh. You know the kind of laugh I am talking about: Gut-Busting-Until-My-Stomach-Hurt-Oh-My-Gosh-Please-Stop-Now-I-Think-I-Might-Die laugh. It is true that I find a lot of things hilarious, but it takes a special person to experience my joy, and at the same time put up with it. (Especially when I am laughing at my own jokes.)

Do you have friends that make you laugh? If not go out and get some; they’re priceless. There is enough sourness in the world. Why be with Debbie Downer? Instead you need happy. I am not saying not to be there for your friends when they need you; that is the best part of being a friend, but make sure you can make them laugh, and visa versa.

I need to share something with you; when I am chatting on line I never use LOL unless I am actually laughing my ass off. I know is suppose to be LMAO, but I use LOL just the same. So if you happen to be chatting with me online, and I write LOL you can be sure that I am having a difficult time typing because I am laughing, and laughing is something I take very seriously.

Taking my Dog for a Walk- New School

2010-02-24T13:06:00.000-08:00

I think I am pretty smart, but I know my dog is smarter. I have actual proof:

For the last half an hour he has been working out on the treadmill!

I was watching that Will Smith movie I am Legend; I noticed the dog starring in the movie was on the treadmill working out himself, and I thought why can’t I get my dog to do the same thing?

Our first go around wasn't as graceful as the movie performance. Simon wasn't running 5 miles an hour. Instead it went something like this:

Me- ‘Go boy, Simon’, using my best high pitched encouragement voice.

Me: Using Cheese as bait to get Simon to follow my directions.

Simon: Attached to a lead.

Me: holding the lead in front of the treadmill. (Crouching for 30 minutes takes real dedication.)

The treadmill: Going sloooooow.

Simon: Uber patience, and intelligence.

Simon has very short legs, but he kept up with the treadmill speed. He smiled the whole time. Why don’t I smile when I am on the treadmill? Maybe if I was rewarded with a cupcake when I was finished with my workout I would smile too.

I could tell he was proud of himself. I am proud of the little guy too!

I wonder if my dog can get a gym membership? Hmmm.....

Gotta Go...Gotta Go...Gotta Go!

2010-02-18T13:52:00.000-08:00

This blog entry is not meant for children, or those with weak stomachs. I just thought I would give you a warning…

A few weeks ago I went to my doctors for my annual physical. (Well in my case ‘annual’ means 5 years, but that isn't the point.) I would probably go more but I that would make me feel like a hypochondriac. But my doctor is closing up shop, so I thought I’d better get him to look under the hood before he moves on.

I had the dreaded PAP! Yeah but only this time it was different. (X-rated part is coming…) My doc spent more time then usual poking around down there. There was a nurse in the room of course.

‘Are you having any issues?’ He asked.
‘Nope.’ Just get on with this already; I really not in the mood for a conversation while you’re down there. I hope you understand.

This time when I went to my doctors I decided to make a list of my current issues on my Blackberry, and then just hand it to my doctor, and let him analyze it. There were two things on my list:
1. I pee constantly.
2. My periods are getting more painful, and heavier.

My doctor said that these two issues made perfect sense, and in his opinion it seems that my uterus has fallen.

I'll have to go for an ultra-sound to make sure.

This is the crux of my entry: THE ULTRA-SOUND!!!

I have to go with a full bladder. Are you kidding me? As it stands right now I can’t hold it for more than 20 minutes. How am I going to drink half a gallon of water, and then hold it for an hour? I am seriously considering calling the whole thing off. I am absolutely sure that there are many uterus’ that have fallen, and their owners aren’t even aware of the situation, and they are going about their business just fine. How bad can it be?

One of the reasons that I decided never to get pregnant again was because of the ultra-sound; it almost killed me. I was in tears during that ordeal, but I did it because I was doing it for a good cause. The way I see it; this is not for such a great cause. However, David disagrees with me, and don’t think he will let me cancel.

But if my uterus did fall it will be because of my lapband. My lapband has made me constipated for the last 2+ years. I have tried EVERYTHING to move things along, and nothing seems to help. I have just chalked it up to a side-effect. Constipation can, and will cause a uterus to fall. And if my uterus did fall I might have to have a hysterectomy, which isn’t too bad, as long as I don’t have to have anymore ultra-sounds.

I wonder how much uterus weighs, and can I count it as part of my lapband weight-loss? UGH!

'Girl, You Are Looking Mighty Fine!'

2010-02-16T15:02:00.000-08:00

I hate getting compliments about my weight loss. Am I the only one? When people tell me, ‘Amy, you are looking so good.’ I cringe. It is not that I don’t want the compliment- I do. It is just this: a compliment about how good I look makes me think of how crappy I must’ve looked when I was larger.

I think my problem with this whole compliment thing is because when I was heavier I told myself everyday that I was ‘hot’. I walked around like a peacock, and had all of the confidence that went with it.

Let me go back and correct myself it isn’t the compliment per se; it is the way people say it, it is the tone they use when the compliment is said. What was I a hippopotamus? I know, I know, I was, and I am just being OVERLY sensitive.

As a result of my ego issues I backed out of my 1st tummy tuck appointment because, baby a tummy tuck is an ‘Instant presto change-o’ body transformation.’ It’s a ‘You’d better donate all of your current garments to charity, because girl they won’t be fitting after this is all over!’ If I couldn’t deal with the compliments now then how was I going to square up the compliments that came after the tuck?

I finally did a lot of thinking, and realized that I had to get over myself. I am not defined solely on my past, current, and future looks. Oh my, I am not defined on my looks at all! (Well that’s not true- I am the one who is doing the defining, and I am the one who put a value on the looks department. Like I said before: I need to get over myself!!! I am working on it.)

One day I was in the shower aka ‘my thinking spot’ and it occurred to me that I should desire the best life has to offer; to hell with second rate.

Do I have a nice home? Check. (But I want a bigger, and better one in the near future. Alright then we need to set a plan in place. There is just one thing; if we get another house with three bathrooms we are definitely going to get a house cleaner, right? Absolutely.)

Do I have a nice car? Oh yeah. It’s all decked out. Love it. (I need to get me one more. Sure no problem; plan it, and it will happen.)

I know I did the material things first, but I was thinking materialistically at the time, but don’t worry I switched my focus to family…finally.

Dog…check….best dog ever!
Cat….what can I say there? David and Holly love the cat. Nobody’s life can be picture perfect.

Husband and Daughter: check, check, and double check. There is nothing that needs upgrading in this department.

What else is there?

Me? Oh yeah me! I need to get some self-esteem, and some self worth, because how am I suppose to make all of these other things happen if I don’t think that I am worth an ‘upgrade’.

So there I was standing in the shower waiting for my conditioner to rinse out of my hair, because I just had to jump out of the shower, and into my new perspective. (Oh yeah I also realized that I needed to go to the store buy me some more conditioner too.)

I realized that I had short changed myself when I turned away from the first tuck. Looking back I think it was a good thing, because it is obvious I wasn’t ready, and to do something of such magnitude you must have your head on straight. Yeah but the only problem that I have now is that I have to wait forever and a day for my tummy tuck. Even in my thinking spot I have realized that patience is not something that I am particularly good at. In fact I am terrible at it. I am one of those people that if the grocery line is too huge, and there are not enough cashiers working I will seek out the store manager and ask him if he is busy, because we could really use his help at the till. It may be bold, but it works. (It also works in banks too, however I wouldn’t try it in government offices; even I am not that brave.

My consultation appointment is on April 13th, but I am on the cancelation list. I have my home phone call forwarded to my cell phone just in case, because the sooner I have my consultation the sooner I can be sliced and diced. (Eww- that didn’t sound too good.) I will keep you posted .

Butt Indentations and Tacos!

2010-02-15T14:17:00.000-08:00

‘What is the matter with you?’ That’s was what I would be thinking while I was talking to my doctor. ‘Give me the right cocktail, already! I am not getting better.’ Hey I didn’t go to med school, but I think three months is enough time to straighten all of this out. Do I need to do something drastic to clue you in?

I have a good doctor, and believe of not she did the right thing, because changing medication isn’t always the best idea; especially when the medication has been working well up until that point. Most likely it was seasonal, but it was still frustrating, painful, and lonely to say the least.

The last three months have been incredibly insane. (I was insane.) It was bad. I was watching Jerry Springer, and wondering why a guy named Taco had three girls fighting for his heart. Taco became the highlight of my day. (I wonder if Taco is the highlight of his own day?)

I had my looooooows. I had my hig…wait…no it was just lows. I was a wreck. I was a non-functioning-queen-of-daytime-TV-who-wouldn’t-leave-the-house. I put away my computer because the information on the internet was too intense for me to handle. Thus, no blogging; my computer was in storage. My chair had a permanent Amy ass indentation.

Well that is in the past. I am feeling MUCH better. I am no longer watching Jerry, and I flipped the cushion over on my chair to get rid of the indentation. Hey let’s make sure we have a clean slate!

I didn’t have a medication change; I did this all on my own with cognitive therapy. Apparently my brain had had enough of being in the dumps. Thank God my brain happens to be smart.

What is going on in my life???

I AM GETTING A TUMMY TUCK. For real, and for true! I even got the lift-up-power-recliner! Hey you know me: If I do this; I am doing this in style.

I am at the end of my weight loss journey. I never wanted to be ‘pencil thin’. I just wanted to look healthy, and not have muffin top when I sit down. After the tuck it will be mission accomplished!

I don’t have a surgery date yet, but I am hoping to get it done within the next eight weeks. I am going to look smoking hot for summer! (I still won’t be caught in a bikini!)

Hey the good news is: I am going to have a ton of stuff to blog about.

Pity Party Has Been Cancelled.

2009-12-21T20:13:00.000-08:00

I am so tired of eating ala Fred Flintstone style. It’s a sight to see me eat soup, it really it is. It’s difficult to type this entry; so many errors, and mistakes. I have to think of what I want to say, and force my fingers to hit the right keys. Thank goodness for the backspace key. I’m frustrated because of the nasty tremors that make my figures, and hands disobey me.

It’s Christmas. My favorite Christmas tradition is wrapping the gifts. I buy only the best wrapping paper, and fabric ribbons. (I would never dream of using a bow that comes in a bag.) Convenient yes, but brilliantly beautiful- no. Okay, fine, I am a child of marketing.

You’ve guessed it… I can not wrap the gifts this year! I tried I really did, but more times than not I spent my time accidentally ‘unwrapping’ the gifts because my hands had a mind of their own. I tried to explain to my body that those gifts were not for me, and that they are to cease the ripping and tearing immediately, but they still kept unwrapping them.

If you were walking by at that moment, and happened to glace in my front window I betcha I would have looked crazy. I was actually arguing with my body parts. Finally I gave up. To be perfectly honest I ran out of tape. Holly and David have taken over the gift wrapping duties this year.

In my spare time I decided that I would crochet a scarf for my daughter. I am wonderful at crocheting. I can whip up a scarf in no time- clean edges, perfect spacing, and terrific shape. (I only know how to make scarves and blankets mind you, but I know how to do them well!) Now, not so much; I started my scarf on December 3rd. It is December 21st and I haven’t completed one full row. I have had to take the damn scarf apart so many times due to fatal errors. I can’t keep the tension steady.

Today I decided ‘hell with crocheting’; instead I am going to knit. ‘Why not? I knit even better than I crochet!’ (Still scarves and blankets.) Yeah but that was a really bad idea- let’s just say that my knitting needles are outside in the grass. I would have flattened them using the car, but the needles could have punctured the tires. As it stands at the moment I am surrounded by numerous balls of yarn, and no ability to use them. I probably will go out and rescue my needles from the lawn, and try again because giving up is not how I roll. But why does everything feel so much harder?

My break from blogging is now over. I now understand that I can’t wish my illness, or my physical impairments away. The problem was that these nightmares were constantly invading my mind, and I couldn’t write about anything else. I have said many times- I don’t want this blog to be an unhappy place. (It is more for me than it is for you.) I like writing about all the good in my life; it helps remind me of how lucky I am.

I am just going to blog, and blog, and blog. If I want to write about eggnog lattes, Ford Focus’, Starbucks, spinning Christmas trees, my favorite color, redecorating, or why less, and less people have hung Christmas lights this year- I will.

But for now I am going to stop. My fingers are dancing on the keyboard to their own beat, and it’s getting painful to control them.

I’ll be back soon- pity party over.

...Signing Off For the Time Being.

2009-11-19T21:34:00.000-08:00

I hate bipolar.

It eats me alive. It takes away who I am, and who I want to be. Today I found myself on my kitchen floor in a ball crying. I found comfort in the floor because I felt at least one part of me was supported- the part of me that was pressed up against it, but still.

I can’t blog. The only feelings I have are feelings of helpless. I don’t, can’t, and absolutely refuse to give that vile vomit in my head a voice.

I haven’t told anyone but sometimes I'm crying all the time. Today I screamed out loud, and it was to the wrong person, at the wrong time. I’m overloaded. I am really sick. It hasn't been this bad for five years or so.

David is here keeping me safe, and I am going to see my doctor very soon.

I don’t know when this storm will pass- it will- they all do. But until it does I am going to disappear. No Facebook, no Sparks, no nothing. All of the hard work that I have put out there to make connections- well if they’re there when I get back so be it. If not…I will start from scratch. I love all of my internet friends, and I am sorry that I am out of contact, but I am dead inside, and when you feel as bad as I do it is really hard to be in contact.

I love you all so very much…I get over 1,000 hits a month so I know there are people reading what I write, and I am sorry that I am letting you down for the time being. I just didn’t know that I could get this sick again.

I will be back when my meds are adjusted, and my face prints are no longer on the floor.

Going 5 to 17 in one hour...

2009-11-10T13:24:00.000-08:00

I told myself I had to post a blog entry even though I have nothing new to write about. I have been stuck indoors because my daughter has been sick for three weeks. Therefore my life has been as exciting as watching paint dry.

I am not a caregiver. It doesn’t come natural to me. I can stroke her hair, give her medicine, tuck her in to bed, give her soup, but that is as far as I go. I am only able to do that because she is my daughter-I am legally bound to stroke her hair, and such, but here the kicker, because nursing not my cup of tea I get so tired that when she sleeps (which is a lot) that I sleep. I don’t even get out of my PJs. I shower, and then I get back into them.

I finally took her to the doctors yesterday and she finally got an anti-biotic to clear things up. I feel bad for not take her sooner, but the doctor’s office has become a scary place, and I was hoping that this bug would go away on its own.

When we did go to the doctors the wait was 2 ½ hours, there were so many people who were coughing, sneezing, and sniffing that I was more afraid she was going to get sicker there than at home.

It was not like every patient had a mask on either. Here is how this dog and pony show worked:
Patients come in, the receptionist points to the red ‘take a number’ ticker tape dispenser. You have to take a number before you can see her. When you come in the reader board says, ‘5’ and you are number ‘17’. Crap, it’s going to be a long wait. It takes an hour to get the front desk, and only then can you explain to the receptionist that you have a cough, and it is only then does the receptionist show concern, and gives you a mask to prevent you from spreading germs. If you have been following along you will have noticed that all of the Hacking Harrys went a whole hour without a mask. What is that all about?

This was a clinic I went to; not my regular doctor. We had some dead battery issues so we missed the appointment with our good sensible-family-doctor. (And by the way it didn’t take me three weeks to get an appointment- it took me three hours. Just so you know our health care doesn’t suck as bad as some of you may think.)

Now for the really bad news: I have a sore throat, and I am tired. If I have to spend another three weeks in my jammies I think- well I am certain that I will lose my mind. I would scream but I am loosing my voice.

Weighty Issues

2009-10-29T10:20:00.000-07:00

I have bloggers block. I didn’t think it was possible, because I always have something to say. I’m one of ‘those’ chatty people you meet when your out-and-about minding your own business. By the time we part either you are running away, or we are exchanging phone numbers.

If I had to guess why I am blocked I would guess it would have something to do with weight loss. At the moment I’m obsessed with it. I am on Spark People everyday. I even set those guys as my home page! (So far I have lost 6 pounds.) Yeah but there is a hitch…I can’t seem to focus on two things at one time.

I never wanted this blog to focus on weight loss; if anything it would be a small component.

You see I think about losing weight way too much as it is, and I needed a safe place to let my mind wander without having the need to calculate calories in, and calories out. What fun is that?
If I write about my weight issues I would rather write about them in a different light using humour, and every day events to showcase my accomplishments, and struggles.

I don’t want to tell you that when I get in the shower I use the seamed up glass, and my finger to manually calculate how long it is going to take me to lose the extra pounds based on how many calories I eat verses how many calories I burn. I am pretty sure you would think I am crazy! (I should be using a white board, and a colourful dry erase marker; am I right?)

I am going to end here. Over the next few days I will be doing some interesting things that will force me to snap out of my weight-focusing-obsession. (I hope.)

PERIOD.

2009-10-22T11:44:00.000-07:00

I am lucky enough to be visited by a ‘guest’. (I am using the word guest because this is a public blog, but you should know that in private I use a less flattering descriptive name for my ‘guest’.) For the first 20 years she came every 4 weeks. She was courteous; she wasn’t that much pain to host. Our arrangement for the most part was okay. Besides I didn’t have a choice, because the arrangement was, and is still as iron-clad as a deal with the mafia. There is only one way to get out… (Or I can go through menopause either way it’s a tough deal to break.)

Wait a minute that’s not true I could take birth-control pills to keep her away! But alas I am on medication that doesn’t jive with birth control pills, so it’s a no go for me. But if I could, I would. I would not take the pills that would give me a ‘fake-3-day-guest’ to host. I would take the pills that kept everyone away! I would pay extra for those pills.

Birth control pills were originally manufactured to skip periods all together. But women freaked out, and thought they were pregnant when they didn’t get their period. Because of that; the manufactures were forced to give women a fake period to ease their minds. Good going ladies!

Lately my ‘guest’ is very grouchy when she comes for her visit. She is coming when ever she feels like it; every 10 days, maybe, every 5 weeks- maybe 6. It’s up to her. Nowadays when she does show up she causes havoc; her visits makes me cry. She is a pain in the…you know. The pain I go through is unbearable. I take painkiller after painkiller just to get through her stay. It’s not working. She is winning. Plus she likes to stay longer than usual. What doesn’t she have anywhere else to go?

In fact she is visiting as we speak. I have heating pads, and I am taking Advil to ease the pain. I even have a peppermint candle burning to relax me; so far no change in pain.

I am 35 years old. In the last few weeks I am noticing that I at night I starting to wake up sweaty, when this happens I decide the best way to solve my problem is to give David ALL of the covers. But I then since I have no covers I wake up freezing; then I have to take ALL of the covers away from David. (He looks too hot anyway.)

This has been going on for a few weeks off and on. I mentioned this new development to David, and he said that he has been having night sweats too. Weird. Hmmm…Maybe it’s nothing to worry about.

(Just to be safe I made an appointment with my doctor.)

It’s starting to hit me; what if I am getting old? Last night I had to cater to my ‘guest’s’ every ridiculous, painful whim. My body felt heavy, and I was tired to say the least. I sat down in my chair very slowly, and instantaneously I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I said, ‘I think I have a feeling what it’s going to be like when I get old.’ Then I added for good measure, ‘Maybe I am already old.’

My 12 year old daughter piped up and said, ‘Mom, you’re not old! …Yet.’

‘I heard you say ‘yet’!’

‘Well Mom you’re going to get old soon.’

Ouch. I don’t know what is worse my ‘guest’ erratic behaviour, or reality?

Oh yeah, and another thing I forgot to mention is my ‘guest’ makes me crave the crappy-not-good-for-me-food: onion rings, French fries, cheese burgers, chilli dogs, cookies, brownies, candy, and expensive chocolate (but I will eat cheap chocolate in a pinch).

This is especially difficult this visit, because I am 5 days into my sugar-free recovery program. I haven’t given in to temptation, and I know that I won’t, because I am too stubborn.

Give me cramps, make me cry, make my legs feel heavy, I can handle the back pain, and a head ache. I will not give into your temptations, because I want a tummy tuck! PERIOD.

Yum-Yum-Yum!

2009-10-20T16:58:00.000-07:00

Did you notice that Kentucky Fried Chicken changed their name to KFC? Of course you did. You would have to be living on another planet not have gotten that newsletter. Do you know why they thought changing their name was a good idea? You’d have to be dumber than a bag of rocks to not know the reason why. Now I feel bad; what if you didn’t know the reason why? Here I have gone and offended you. To make up for it I will give you the run down- the folks down at Kentucky Fried Chicken decided that if consumers forgot that their chicken was fried then maybe they, being the consumers would buy more. It works for me; if I don’t see the bad-for-me-word in the restaurant’s name then everything in the eating establishment must be good diet food, right?

I live in a small town that doesn’t have a KFC. We have a Kentucky FRIED Chicken. It is old school. We live so far out of the way that advertising executives didn’t find it necessary to spend money on changing something we already knew- that F stood for fried, or maybe those ad guys knew that we country folk wouldn’t care if our chicken was served up fried. We're big boned out here in the country.

I have a friend who loves to eat out, and to try new things. When she comes to Canada she always wants to eat somewhere ‘Canadian’. We don’t have too many authentic Canadian restaurants, so I am running out of places to take her to. I got a brilliant idea, because she loves food; more to the point she loves junk food in particular. I decided to take her to Kentucky FRIED Chicken. She was thrilled. I don’t know if there is a donut, piece of pie or cake, bag of chips, plate of cookies, or cheese burger that she has not sampled, so it was only logical that we went and got some saturated chicken fat to add to her palate.

We ordered our food, and we were forced to wait 11 minutes while our fresh batch of chicken was being FRIED up; we (she) talked about food. I learned that my friend loves to dunk her chicken in her gravy. She orders her steak medium-well done (not well done-medium). This is so the steak juices are the right color, and consistency to dip her French fries into. I learned the last two times her favorite steak house had failed to meet her expectations-Bummer. For the 11 minutes pre-meal, and 50 minutes during the meal she was able to engage me in a conversation about importance of dipping meat into various juices and/or gravies. I learned I was way out of my league when it came to food; we could never go head-to-head.

But I also learned that I am a sugar addict. Last weekend I pulled off my biggest sugar consumption since I was banded. I guess used my friend’s visit to be free-for-all. Where to begin?

I am just going to list my sins:

Thursday:
Kentucky FRIED Chicken
Big Honking container of mash potatoes
One bite of corn

One really high calorie decant donut
(Thursday was my really good day.)

Friday:

Grande Starbucks Mocha
Starbucks Ginger Molasses Cookie
Hot Fudge Brownie Sundae (I did request no whipping cream; that’s got to count for something.)
1 ½ Gourmet cupcakes with each of these cupcakes weighing in with a calorie count of 700 each. That is 1,000 calories

Saturday:
Half of a stale donut
Bag of m&ms
One movie size box of Reece’s Pieces

On Sunday I slept; only I didn’t turn into a butterfly the next day. (Reference to “The Hungry Caterpillar" written by Eric Carle) I just got an upset stomach, and week-end after guilt.

As I said I am a sugar addict. I am three days into recovery. Oh well…At least I am aware, and isn’t that the first step!

Things Swarming Around My Head

2009-10-14T12:08:00.000-07:00

I am so annoyed that I am ready to pack my bags, and move out of my house! Do you want to know why? It’s because we have these little flies that have taken up residency at my house without paying rent.

I hate, hate, hate, bugs. They can live outside, and I’ll live inside, and everyone will be at peace. If bugs were meant to live indoors…well they’re just not.

For the last week I have noticed these little buggers flying around my house. They’re not flies, they are not mosquitoes, they’re kind of in-between; they’re a hybrid! I have been swatting at them all the time with no positive results. I even tried Ousting them, but all that happened was that I had really good smelling bugs.

I know I am not the smartest person in the house it is obvious the bugs have one up on me. It didn’t occur to me that the flies were only flying around in the living room. (Our living room is next to our kitchen.) Instead of trying to figure out what was causing the flies; I just kept wishing them gone.

But yesterday the light bulb went on. Follow me on this one:

Two weeks ago I started to drink protein shakes with a banana in them. I had the bananas on the counter, directly over the counter there is a ledge which housed a dying plant. Surprise the bugs were swarming around the dying plant! The bananas were long gone, but the plant was still there. What II didn’t know was that bugs thought dying plants were valuable property.

Out went the plant- and the flies are moving out as well. From now on my bananas will be immediately put in the freezer upon arrival. If I have to I will invest in fake plants, because obviously I can’t be trusted with real ones.

It's so Cold in Here!

2009-10-13T20:53:00.000-07:00

I spent the Turkey holidays with my in-laws. The usual fare of turkey, mash potatoes, and apple pie found its way down to my tummy. It was a good day for me; it was a bad day for the turkey.

Since we live a bit away from David’s parents we decided to stay over for the weekend. I love staying over at his parent’s house. I have a strong feeling that my mother-in-law was employed as a manager at a five star hotel in a previous life. She is always fussing about making sure that David, and I have the perfect stay. Our hotel suite- also known to others as the ‘guest room’ has little touches of things that she knows that we will find pleasing. There is even a weight room down the hall from our suite, but just like in any regular hotel stay; we didn’t use it. The towels in the bathroom are big, and ultra fluffy. She even fills the bathroom with little soaps, and shampoos. A free breakfast is served every morning. I'm not talking about the kind of ‘continental breakfast’ that only consist of toast, and little cereal boxes of Special K. Everything is made to order. The only thing that is missing is the ‘guest comment card’ (…and most importantly, the bill.)

If you are ever in her neck of the woods you should book the guest room. I recommend doing it over the holidays, because she also serves a holiday meal to die for with every holiday stay. But book early-space is limited!

If you read my blog you know that I seem to find something not to my exact satisfaction. Sorry David's mom.

(Feel sorry for my waiters, and waitresses. One time while dining out my table had been waiting for the waitress to come back, and refill our drinks. She didn’t. The clock kept ticking, and the ice kept melting. I finally got so fed up that I scooped all the cups off of the table, and carried them to the soda fountain machine where I helped myself. I just want to be clear we had be waiting for over 20 minutes for a drink refill, and I’m not going to even mention how long we waited for our food. The waitress FINALLY returned, I told her my ‘funny story’, which really neither of us found to be very funny, the manager found it to be less funny, because our meals were on the house. Maybe that is why it took so long to get them to us? But when service people do meet my expectations they get a whooper of a tip!)

Here was the rub- the house was cold. No let me restate that; the house was freezing. My nose was cold, my toes were cold, even my eyelids were cold. I was totally sure that if the temperature dropped one more degree I would be able to see my breath in the freezing air. I was wearing hoodies, and long sleeve t-shirts, and I still wasn’t warm. I covered myself up in blankets, and gulped down (free hotel) tea- I was still cold.

For three days, and two nights my teeth chattered, and I wished that I had packed my long-johns. Here was the thing: no one else was cold, so there was no fire coming to warm me up. I talked to 'management' and she looked at me as if I was completely out of my mind. There was no way the thermostat was moving.

When I was 80 pounds heavier I was hot all the time, but since I lost my blubber I am freezing cold. It makes sense, because I was wearing an 80 pound coat. Anyone would notice a difference when they removed their 80 pound coat. But how long will my knees have knock together before my body temperature regulates? Are you going through this? How long does this go on for?

I have to go and turn on the fire.

Go Ahead and Eat a Turkey Today

2009-10-11T13:03:00.001-07:00

It’s Gobble-Gobble Day at my family’s house. I don’t refer to it as Thanksgiving, because it’s only the second Monday in October. I think that is too-too early to be putting on a Thanksgiving dinner. Plus I am an American, and to me Thanksgiving should be in November, the Macy’s day parade should on TV, and Santa should be setting up shop in malls across the country.

If I don’t take drastic measures next Tuesday my brain will flip into Christmas mode, and the sad part is that it isn’t even Halloween! I will be drawn to the malls craving Christmas music. My need to use my American Express to by a butt-load of presents for family, friends, and the mailman will be overwhelming. My need for sleep will be replaced by my need to create Christmas cookies with my Kitchen Aid mixer. My neighbours would put their house up for sale, because I will need to spread my Christmas cheer going door-to-door carolling all the way.

I refuse to let that happen! Via the revolution: October 12, 2009 will be known as ‘Gobble-Gobble Day’. Feel free to eat turkey on Monday; after all it’s Gobble-Gobble Day! You and I will get the benefit of the turkey without the after- shock of the Christmas season.

YES!, Drill Sergeant!

2009-10-09T16:09:00.000-07:00

I want a tummy tuck; you know that. It’s common knowledge.

I want to get in the best shape of my life. Before my lapband I was a chubby out-of-shape girl. (I hate using the word woman.) Soon after I was banded I started to run, and do stuff that I hadn’t done since I was smaller. But then my port decided to flip, which caused me pain whenever I moved about. I’ll be honest I did try exercising even though I was experiencing pain. But as time went by the pain just worsened. Eventually I was limited to walking. Currently, I am more out-of-shape than I was when I was 80 pounds heavier.

I want to get a tummy tuck. The only downside to a tummy tuck is the 4 to 6 week recovery time. My body treats a recovery time as a recommendation.

For example the lapband has a recovery time of 2 to 4 weeks- try 6 weeks for me. This minor surgery that I just had; had a recovery time of 1 week; I still am not back to normal; it’s been over 2 weeks, and I still have the ‘ouchies’. It is safe to say that I am below the curve when it comes to recovering. I think it might have something to do with all of the medication that I have to take to keep my bipolar in check; 11 pills a day can be hard on my old immune system.

I like the path of least resistance. Should I exercise, or have a tummy tuck? I decided to compare the two options out based on simple mathematics. Here is the formula I used:

A tummy tuck usually takes 4 to 6 weeks to recover from, so knowing me the way I do I made my recovery time 8 weeks. I also quantified my projected level of pain.

Tummy Tuck Pain for 8 Weeks:

Hours of Dreadful-Pain-I-Think-I-Am-Going-To-Die; I know that I will be in this pain for at least 24 hours during the first three days: (24 hours X 3 days)

Hours of Yucky-Pain-That-Causes-Me-To-Be-Really-Grumpy-And-Oh-My-God-This-Still-Hurts; this pain will take up next 4 days, and be non-stop: (24hours X 4 days)

Hours of I-Am-Really-Sore-Why-Did-I-Do-This-Again?-Pain; there goes the next two weeks for an average of every waking moment, so that works out to be 16 hours a day: (16hours X 14 days)

Hours of Ouch-This-Really-Hurts; this pain should keep me entertained for the next 2 weeks for an average of 8 hours a day: (8 hours X 14 days)

Hours of Now-This-Is-Really-Pissing-Me-Off-Pain; a week long of pure bitchy pain for an average of 5 hours a day: (5 hours X 7 days)

Hours of This-Kinda-Still-Stings-So-Feel-Free-To-Pity-Me; this pain will be the last 2 weeks with an average of 3 hours a day: (3 hours X 14 days)

For a grand total of 581 hours of pain!

I haven’t even mentioned that showering is going to be a bitch. (Oh how I do love sponge bathes!) I’ll have drain coming out of my tummy. My mobility will be limited. David will have to take 2 weeks off of work to cater to my every need. Overall it won’t be very fun.

Am I talking myself out of it?

No I am still going to do it, but I am getting my self prepared, I am getting my head screwed on right. I am getting my mojo going.

I am thinking of joining a military style boot camp. The kind that makes you wish you were dead. I also promised to join David’s triathlon club. I am getting in shape first. I want to be toned.

From what I have been reading the more fit you are the better your tummy tuck recovery time will be.

I’m not stupid. Once this information became available to me I said, ‘Sign me up, and hit me with your best shot Drill Sergeant!’

I believe that the torture that I have to endure during boot camp will allow me to shave off 10% off of my overall recovery time which is 51 hours. (See, I am pretty good at math.) Bring it on Drill Sergeant!

I am planning my tuck in March of 2010, because I want to look rad in a bathing suit; even if it is just a one piece.

I'd Rather Be Bipolar Than a 12 Year Old Girl

2009-10-07T20:36:00.000-07:00

You heard me. I’d rather be bipolar than be 12 year old girl. There is something out there called ‘girl world’, and up until now I have been oblivious to it. But then middle school happened, and somewhere between June and September little girls became tweens with their own agendas.

Last year it was all about homework, crushing on boys, and sports. This year it's all about being popular, and being popular. When did the sugar-and-spice-and-everything-nice-train derail?

My friend Teri has an older daughter, and she would tell me horror stories of ‘girl world’, and how mean and catty 7th grade girls can be. I would let the information go in one ear, and out the other. I thought we would be immune to it. To be perfectly honest I thought ‘girl world’ was an urban legend. I didn’t pay attention.

This is an actual example of ‘girl world’. I have tried to write it in such a way that you will understand what transpired between 4 girls; who are living in the nightmare of tweendom.

(I have edited out the “likes”, and the “ums” for ease of reading.)

Setting- Cafeteria at Holly’s middle school

Girl #1- We’ll call Betty- everyone wants to beat Betty up. She is supposed to be a mean girl.

Girl #2- We’ll call Jane- Jane and Betty do not get along. Jane is a friend of Holly’s.

Girl #3- We’ll call Sally- Sally is a friend of Jane and Holly. Apparently Sally doesn’t like Betty either.

…and then there was Holly. Holly likes all three girls.

Jane decided that she had had enough of Betty pushing her around, so Jane started a duke-it-out-fight with Sally in the cafeteria. Since both girls are Holly’s friends; Holly got in the middle of the fight, and stopped it. (It also helped that there was a teacher near by.)

Somewhere between lunch and afterschool Sally decided that Betty needed a beat-down, so she too was going to take on Betty after school. Now this really tickled Jane to death, because Jane was in no position to beat up Betty. However Sally decided that beating up Betty wasn’t such a hot idea, so the fight got cancelled.

Now Jane is mad at Holly, because Holly got in the way of the lunch time brawl. Jane feels that Holly should have stuck up for her, and let her beat up Betty.

(Not that could never have happened. Jane-the poor girl is extremely overweight, and gets winded going up the stairs. To make matters worse Betty is in-shape.)

Two things you should know-

Betty didn’t want to fight Jane.

Betty can be a hell raiser at times, and Betty probably has pissed Jane off legitimately. (I had talkings to Betty about being a brat in the past.)

Anywhoo, Jane decided that she didn’t want Holly as a friend because Holly didn’t let the fight happen in the cafeteria, so she dumped Holly via MSN. Jane also got a 4th girl who also doesn't like Betty to dump Holly.

(Are you still keeping up?)

Truth be told Holly isn’t even that close to Betty. Betty doesn’t come over and hang out. It is not that kind of relationship. Holly said that they are acquaintances.

Holly went to school today, and guess what- Meany Jane wanted to be friends! Holly could not understand the change in attitude. Holly has yet to accept the offer of renewed friendship, because in Holly’s words: ‘It’s all too confusing. I don’t need this drama.’

When she was leaving science class Holly muttered, ‘I don’t understand anything about girl world.’ Her teacher called back, ‘This is just the beginning.’

Lord help us.

Bombing The FCC!

2009-10-06T13:24:00.000-07:00

Due to my minor surgery major recovery I was held up in my bedroom which became a make-shift hospital room. I didn’t mind too much, because there were benefits that my bedroom had that a hospital room didn’t. Instead of sleeping on those scratchy hospital sheets my bed was fitted with Egyptian 600 thread count cotton sheets, oh la la! But the main thing that I liked about my own room versus a hospital room is my TV. I have 600 channels of pure indulgence. Not only that but I have a DVR, which means if I dozed off while my favorite show is on I could rewind it when I woke up.

(If you’re in charge of a hospital I implore you to outfit your patient’s rooms with a flat screen TV, and a DVR. Let’s face it happy people heal faster.)

The hospitals do have one thing going for them- adjustable beds. I had to waste all of my time, and energy propping up my pillows to get them just right. If I had the Craftmatic Adjustable bed this wouldn’t have been an issue. With a press of a button I would have perfect comfort. (I’d better copyright that.)

For a few years I have been begging David to get me a Craftmatic bed, but he hasn’t taken the bait yet. I think I better step up my campaign to get me one. Craftmatic beds are not just for old people! (Do you think I should copyright that one too?)

After fussing with my pillows for an eternity I got down to some serious TV watching. Since there was nothing else to really do I was forced to actually pay attention, and since I was actually paying attention I started to notice a lot of ‘bleeps’. Wait a minute aren’t 'bleeps' in place of swears? Why are there so many 'bleeps' on television?

I watch a lot of reality television-it’s my favorite. The contestants love to swear! I can’t figure it out the logic behind it. Why would you go on national TV and look so uneducated? F-bombs fly everywhere. If it were me I would do my very best to keep them in check.

Even Dr. Phil is bleeping. ‘That is one bleeped up marriage.’ Oh come on now it is 3:00pm in the afternoon, and you are an educated man. I am sure your vocabulary includes more constructive adjectives to describe a bad marriage.

So when did it become okay to sink to the lowest common denominator? When did Dr. Phil decide that in order to make his point clear to the masses he would have to use foul language? I guess he was just 'bleeping' his way to higher ratings!

It is safe to assume that everyone has thrown some cuss words around. But it is also safe to assume most of us know when to turn it off. I don’t go to work and drop the f-bomb in front of my boss, or clients, because I would probably lose my job. Or would I?

Last week I called in to Yahoo and I spoke to a tech. He helped me with the website that I am building. He was great. He spent a lot of his time helping me. He became frustrated at times. After spending 20 minutes on the phone with me I guess he figured that we were close enough to start dropping ‘shits’ and ‘damns’, and 10 minutes later we were so tight that the f-bombs came rolling out. It didn’t bother me as much as it worried me. When and how did it become okay to swear at work?

I am not judging because I use the f-word in the most creative ways that it would make you blush. Some would say I have a gift. But I like to think I know when to turn it off. Am I being too hard on Dr. Phil, and my tech? After all they are human, and it’s our society that is tolerating it. Maybe someday soon the FCC will feel comfortable enough to stop bleeping out the ‘fuh-bleeps’. They are not fooling us; we all know what is behind the bleep. If you’re gonna swear stand up and be proud! No more bleeps! Hell Yeah!

The FCC has deemed that there are only 7 words that are not suitable for TV.
One is the F bomb, one is shit, one is piss, and you will just have to figure out the rest, because I refuse to include them on my wholesome blog.

Please don’t misunderstand me I don’t mind swearing on television. My favorite show is The Sopranos, but I paid for the privilege of hearing Tony, and his crew chew up my TV set with their potty mouths. I just don’t know if Dr. Phil should lower himself to the same standards as Tony Soprano.

*One of the first incidents of foul language spoken on American television was uttered by James T. Kirk in 1965 when he said, ‘Hell.’ Leave it to him to go where no man had ever gone before.

My Two Year Wish

2009-10-04T22:36:00.000-07:00

It was my 2nd 'banniversary' yesterday.
All I want is a TUMMY TUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am tired of having a spare inflated tired around my middle. Yuck!
6 months baby, and I am getting a tummy tuck.
I REALLY WANT A TUMMY TUCK!
(Have you noticed that this blog is always about me, and what I want!)

IAM GOING TO GET A TUMMY TUCK!

I feel much better now...

I am Tired of Living in the Shadows

2009-10-04T12:07:00.000-07:00

Someone once said to me, ‘Figure out if you want a life, or if you don’t, but either way make up your mind.’ It was my physician. I know that sounds harsh, but I was depressed at the time, and I was stuck in-between feeling sorry for myself, and feeling sorry for myself. Don’t worry he knew he wasn’t risking my life. It wasn’t like I was prepared to jump in front of the next bus rolling down the road.

I think what he meant is that I had choices, but I wasn’t giving myself the permission to exercise them. In order to move forward I would have to figure out what made me happy, and then just go with it. There was just one big problem I was depressed. How can I expected to find out what makes me happy when all I wanted to do is watch crappy TV, and sleep all day?

I have good and bad qualities just like everyone else, but one of my good qualities is that I am not a ‘Yeah But Person’, which means if someone gives me an idea or suggestion I don’t immediately shoot them down with a ‘yeah, but…’ response. I take in the advice, filter it, and then come up with my own conclusion, which leads to an outcome that either works for me, or it doesn’t.

When my good doctor said what he said I could feel my eyes getting big because I thought, ‘How did he know that I wasn’t living?’ I walked away knowing that I would have to come up with a plan for my life so I will be able to feel better in my own skin.

My problem is I rely too much on other people to make me happy. I hate being alone. I am just an acquaintance to myself; thus watching crappy TV is much better than making small talk with myself.

I have finally decided to live for real and for true, which means that I must find myself. I don’t know if I am going to like this part, or find it painful. To be completely honest I have been surviving for so long that I have to idea how to live.

You know that old saying: If you stuck a piece a coal up someone’s ass in two weeks you would have a diamond; they are that uptight. Well that is me. I just need to find a lot of coal and I would be rich.

It is time to restructure, revamp, and have faith. I will keep you up-to-date on my progress.

Sorting Laundry During the Night

2009-10-01T11:57:00.000-07:00

It’s 4 in the morning, and I am wide away. It was by accident. I am hot, because my fan was going the wrong way which made it blow hot air. My room is now a sauna.

Now I am hot, awake, and watching infomercials: Dr. Ho’s Massage System, Tommy Horton’s 10 minute workout, and I just found an infomercial for The Bullet Express.

I want The Bullet Express! I’m drawn in, and now I must have one. And look it comes with juicer which is a $150 dollar value! 6 easy payments of 19.99, nice! My tone might say that I’m kidding, but in reality I’m not. I really want one. Right now as I type I am thinking about going to the website, and impulsively ordering one. How many weeks until Christmas??? David loves cook. (Nice going Amy, David reads your blog; now he won’t be surprised about his Christmas gift.) It wouldn’t have mattered anyway he would saw the charge when he paid the credit card bill.

…6 hours later…yawn…

I just made a great protein drink. Here is the recipe:

1 scoop of chocolate protein powder
¼ cup of plain non-fat, sugar free yogurt
1 cup of milk
1 banana
Ice

Put the powder, milk, and yogurt, in the blender, and blend until very frothy. Then add the banana, and ice and blend again.

I use small ice cubes, but if you want to use regular size ice cubes add a few in at a time. Don’t add all of them in one shot. You want to keep the frothiness.

The drink comes out all cold and frothy, and the best part is that it does not taste like a protein drink. (‘cause I hate protein drinks.) Depending on how much ice you put in you should have 36oz. It is very filling, because it is frothy. I find most protein drinks only fill me up for about an hour or so, but this one does the trick for about 4 hours. Total calories: 244.

You really should try it if you like to drink protein drinks.

I am recovering nicely with one small infection- I mean exception. Yeah my stitches got infected, which means it hurts. I am not allowed to bend over, because it pulls on the stitches.

Simon is a strange dog. He digs through our laundry, and finds my socks, and then he PAIRS them together, finally he places them all over the house. I have all different color socks, so it isn’t just a coincidence. He doesn’t chew on them. I know weird. Nobody believes me until they see it for themselves, many have, and many minds have been changed.

Last night my beloved dog was busy. He decided to ‘sort’ my socks. My socks are all over my living room. It is driving me crazy. I want to bend down, and pick them up. I can’t. I have spent all morning begging him to move my socks back to the laundry room. Instead he is sleeping peacefully. He has a smile on his face most likely because he is proud of his last night’s sock sorting adventures.

I haven’t written much in my blog, because there is nothing going on in my life. I am still stuck in my chair. (I noticed that no one has answered my S.O.S.) When you’re not doing too much there really isn’t too much to write about. We’ll see maybe my butt will become one with the chair; that would be a good blog entry.

Three Shorts, Three Longs, Three Shorts Signals.

2009-09-26T22:40:00.000-07:00

I am actually using this blog entry as a S.O.S. Help me! David has super glued my ass to my chair. I am only allowed to do two things today: I can shower, and I can go to the bathroom. Other than that I am stuck here riding my cushion.

It is all because of the pain killers that I took yesterday. You see I took them and I felt great! Since I felt great I did a lot of stuff I shouldn’t have; I sat cross legged, I bent down to do a lot to cleaning, I went for a walk, and, I horsed around with my dog. I am already aware of the fact that I am stupid. (David seems to taking too much glee in pointing out that fact.) UGH.

My stomach retaliated as soon as the pain killers were out of my system. I tried to take some more, but my stomach was too mad. There was no point of gobbling down more pain killers, so I ended up going to bed.

I expected to wake up feeling better, but no luck; my stomach is still sore. Now I am refusing all pain medication, because of the trouble it got me in yesterday. The pain is not unbearable; it is just really uncomfortable.

I am going to get up and take a shower. YIPPIE!!!

I just got back from the shower, and I am disappointed to learn that I gave my wound a little tear from all of my activities from the day before. That explains why it is hurting so much.

It looks like one more day of sofa surfing.

POOP!

I am Okay

2009-09-24T20:46:00.000-07:00

I have made my way out of the trenches of the sea foam green operating room of Delta hospital. My tummy is cut to shreds, but my spirits still high. Maybe the word ‘shreds’ is an exaggeration…maybe it was just one or two slices, but it still hurts. Not as much as the lapband hurt, because holy cow the lapband surgery almost killed me.

There are some troublesome things about this whole recovery thing.

1. I can’t shower for 48 hours, or bathe for 72. I don’t bathe so that is not as big of a deal as the shower part.
2. I can’t bend over. (Duh!)
3. Because my stomach muscles have been tampered with I can’t pee; well I can it just takes a lot of effort and time. Don’t ever take peeing for granted; that is all I have to say.
4. I don’t know if laughing is a problem, because I have not found anything funny since my surgery. I think that is what one would call self-preservation.

I am glad it is over. I am glad I did it. Now I can move on to other pressing matters in my life.

I wonder if this entry makes any sense… I am writing it while I am jacked up on pain medication. If I was willing to, I would laugh about posting this entry as it is, but I won’t let myself laugh, but take comfort in knowing that I am smiling on the inside.

Amy out.

Me and Cone Head

2009-09-22T16:30:00.000-07:00

My dog has a very good life. I feed him, brush him, walk him, and play with him. I even rub his belly until he laughs. Yes it is true; dogs do laugh, and my dog is very ticklish. Let’s not forget I spend a fortune on toys for him.

Yes my dog has a good life, but he has earned it. I can’t complain about him. Even as a puppy he refrained from chewing up slippers, peeing on the carpet, and eating the garbage. He can even ring a bell to tell you that he has to go outside to go pee.

My only real complaint is that he likes to greet people at the door with a bark, and a jump. It is my fault. I thought it was cute when he was just a little guy. I am working hard to train him out of this habit.

My dog is so even tempered that I am training him to be a therapeutic dog. I know that he will LOVE working in hospitals and care homes. He likes people.

My dog likes to take care of me. Whenever I am in pain my dog knows it. He spends a great deal of his time watching over me as it is, but if I am in any physical pain my dog will not leave my side. I mean that literally. Then how does he eat? How does he take care of his own ‘business’? David told me that my dog will leave when I am in a deep sleep to quickly run, and do his own ‘errands’, and then he will race back to lay at my bedside. Poor puppy, I feel bad for him because I am always getting hurt. He probably never gets a good night sleep.

My dog’s name is Simon, but last week I renamed him Cone Head based on the fact that we had to put a puppy cone on him, because he was licking one of his paws to the point where it was getting infected. I figured it was my turn to look after Cone Head, so I stayed by his side. (Well actually he set up camp next to me, but that is beside the point.) I have been living with a cone in my lap for the last week. When ever the TV reception isn’t as good as I want it to be I adjust the dog’s head to one side. It seems to be working.

Tomorrow I am going in for my port revision surgery. There may be pain involved. I can’t ask Cone Head to take care of me! I am NOT asking the cat; you can forget about that. I know he will just try and steal something the minute I fall asleep. (I am watching you cat!)

Who am I kidding I know Simon will stay up, and worry about me, because he is my best friend. I am lucky to have a best friend as good as Simon. People should take a lesson or two from their dogs. The world would be a better place if we treated people as good as our dogs treated us.

Wish me luck. Don’t worry about me too much; Simon has my back.

All About Me in 60 Seconds

2009-09-18T13:41:00.001-07:00

On Facebook there is an application called 60 second Interview. Here are some of the questions, and my answers.

Which is worse? Nails on a chalkboard or lemon juice on a cut?
Nails on a chalkboard

I am totally paranoid about…
Bugs

What was your favorite childhood toy?
Cookie Monster (Duh)

I like to wear…
Jammies with fuzzy socks

If you had your own army of 1000 identical five year olds, what would you have them do?
Rent them out to clean toilets.

Is there anything you’d like to add before we continue?
I love cookies

How many hours of sleep do you need?
7

Which letter of the alphabet can you totally not stand?
Z! I can’t say that I hate ‘Z’ but I don’t like the way we say it in Canada- zed; that is just not right people. It’s zee.

What’s the closest you’ve come to death?
I was hit by two cars in the same incident

What is the fastest you have ever driven?
150 km or 93 miles an hour

What is the strangest question you have ever been asked in a job interview?
‘Are you ready to go back to the real world?’ (I stood up, thanked the guy for the interview, and left. The 'Real World' was in regards to my salary. )

I knew I was an adult when…
I am not an adult yet, so stop calling me ma’am!

What is your favorite cake frosting?
Chocolate with coconut

What would be an appropriate name for your car?
Her name is Marsha on account that she looks like a big marshmallow.

Would you shave your head for a worthy charity?
Yes

Do you play any instruments?
Nope

G-string, thong, boy shorts, bikini, or traditional?
Come on over and look for yourself

Have you ever fallen asleep while driving?
No, but I have come close.

In a previous life I was…
Pushed down a staircase

Have you ever fallen asleep at work?
Yes

I am a member of generation___
X

I’d like to teach the world to…
Bake chocolate chip cookies

Automatic or stick shift?
Automatic

What would your clown name be?
I hate clowns- never bring up clowns again or this interview is over!

Are you a glass half full person or a glass empty person?
I am a glass is half empty; I’d better get some more to fill’er up fast because I like to be full all the way

I don’t get mad…
I get a blog

I’d be mortified if someone caught me…
…like I am going to tell you

SUV, compact, or sports car?
VW convertible bug

What always makes you smile; no matter how bad a day you’re having?
When David tells me that he loves me

Do you sleep on your side, back, or stomach?
All of them

What does the tooth fairy do with all of those teeth?
Sells them to dentist so that he can make dentures out of them

The best music comes from…
Nashville

If your life were a movie, what would be the last line?
I don’t want to think about the last line yet

What’s the scariest thing that has ever happened to you?
I blocked it out

If you were invisible for a day, what would you do?
What wouldn’t I do!!!

How many times a day do you brush your teeth?
2 to 3 (I am currently up to a strong 3.)

I know it’s time to clean the fridge when…
David takes care of that

Do you have an innie, or an outie?
Innie

Would you rather have a fast forward or instant replay button for your life?
I would like them both

What would your Olympic event be?
Bull shitting

Salty or sweet?
Sweet

People make fun of my…
Ouch! I can’t talk about it now. Let’s talk about it when we’re alone.

How many songs do you have on your iPod?
256

I feel naked without…
My clothes

No matter how desperate I was for a guy, I’d never…
Trade in my morals, values, or let him treat me poorly.

If I lived in the 1800, my profession would be…
Queen of England

I wish I could change…
My bank account balance

I like people who are…
Honest and fun

What’s your favorite blue food?
Cotton candy

What would you name your pet monkey?
Chuck

What’s the sexist thing a member of the opposite sex can wear?
A suit, tie, and glasses

My hourly rate is…
I laugh at this question! If you have to ask you can’t afford me!

If you were the first person to land on the moon, you would’ve said:
‘How the hell did I get this job? I am afraid of heights!’

If I lived in the 2100, my profession would be…
Captain Crunch Fan Club President

Have you ever been on TV?
Outside of the reality show ‘Cops’?-no

What makes you homesick?
I am not homesick as long as I have David and Holly with me.

What is/was your imaginary friend’s name?
Precious

What’s your favorite 80’s band?
Pet Shop Boys

Bikini, Tankini, or Linguini?
Linguini, that is why there is no bikini, or tankini for me!

My favorite Candy is…
M&M’s

Batman or Superman?
Superman, because Batman did not have superpowers

I’d say that vegetables are…
A good side dish

My biggest regret is…
Not going with the flow (I can be uptight.)

My super power would be…
To tell the future

What’s your favorite Jelly Belly flavour?
Black

My proposed Ben and Jerry’s flavour:
Chocolate ice cream with brownies, chocolate covered almonds, and mini marshmallows

What kind of pet would you like to have?
A Jetta. (It has 150 horses under the hood, and I think that would be a very good idea.)

Bury me with my…
I don’t want to be buried the thought of it just freaks me out.

What’s your magic word?
I can’t say my magic word here; it is a very bad word

If you were coated in jelly, what flavour would you prefer?
Strawberry

Would you rather own a dog named Growler, or a parrot named Captain?
The parrot, because I could teach it swear words

When I’m elected, the first law I’ll pass…
Is to bring all the troops home

What would your super hero name be?
Super Wonder Amazing Amy

I wish my cell phone had a…
Louder ring I am always missing calls

The key to success is…
Work really hard…I wonder if anyone is still reading these answers?

What advice would you give to your younger self?
Don’t go on Facebook

What was the first thing you bought when you got your first credit card?
Clothes

What cartoon character did you have a crush on?
Wow! That’s a pretty creepy question.

What are the strangest two foods you’ve combined together?
I don’t like to combine my food

How old were you the last time you trick-or treated?
10

What’s your favorite ice cream topping?
Nuts-the kind you get from MacDonalds

How many times have you broken your cell phone?
Never

If you were to discover that the roof was on fire, what would you do? (For example: seek water)
Are you nuts! Seek water? Hell no! I would grab the family, pets, and run for my life!

What will be your last words?
‘Shit that didn’t work out too well did it?’

Righty or lefty?
Lefty

When was the last time you threw up?
OMG! That is a totally gross question!

Who would play you in a movie version of your life?
Ashley Judd

What would you do for a new car?
What wouldn’t I do for a new car???

What is your favorite kids’ cereal?
Cocoa Puffs

I’ve always wanted to…
Star in a motion picture with Johnny Depp

Pop Tarts or Toaster Strudle?
Toaster Studle

If I were a super hero my super suit would be made out of…
Fat-sucking-in-material

What time period would you like to live in for a week?
The 50’s

When faced with a problem I…
Drink a coffee, and then think really fast

I’ll wait until nobody is looking, then I’ll…
Adjust my panties, but I always seem to mis-time it; some one catches me.

What do you wear to bed?
T-shirt and undies

When did ’10 did seconds’ become ‘two hours’?
…that is what he said…

When the world ends, I will be…
Oh man the world is ending!!! No one told me. I should have planned better.

What flavour Jell-O are you?
Cherry

If you had to get a tattoo, what would it be?
Tats are not for me. I fear what they may look like in my later years

I think they should legalize…
Anything I feel like doing

I’d totally be screwed without…
My husband and sweet daughter

The worse question on 10 second interview so far is…
Most of them

There’s something fishy about…
This 10 second interview; I feel that it has been way longer than 10 seconds.

My friend dumped me when they found…
Out I had weight loss surgery

Propose a new toothpaste flavour:
Wishmint

How often do you go without underpants?
NEVER! That’s icky.

I will never tell anyone…
That I have super human powers

I wouldn’t mind being stuck in a closet with…
Brad Paisley

What's your favorite crayon color?
Green

Are you a country mouse, or a city mouse?
Country mouse

I’d describe my sense of humour as…
Potty humour (I love fart jokes.)

I always mispronounce…
‘Our’

I shower in the…
Nude

If you had an extra toe, what would you do with it?
Have it removed

What’s you favorite pizza topping?
Cheese

How long have you spent answering these questions so far?
62 days

What’s your favorite website?
Google

What is the grossest thing you’ve ever eaten?
Seafood

PC or Mac?
PC

On a scale from 1 to crazy, I’m about a:
1000

Metric, or Imperial units?
Imperial- I am American through and through.

Make up a fact about penguins right now:
They mate 16 times a year

Cake or pie?
Cake

I collect…
Cookie Monster things

When do you normally go to bed?
Midnight

How do you like your coffee?
Starbucks- non-fat, no whip, half sweet, lid on, mocha

My worst part-time job was…
Selling vacuum cleaners door-to-door; I was so bad at it I only made .29 cents an hour

If you saw wet cement, what would write in it?
‘Amy loves David’ (I am such a dork.)

Early riser or night owl?
Night owl

Which pair of underwear are your favourites?
I chose not to have favourites I don’t want to hurt my underwear’s feelings

Five star hotel or tent in the woods?
Five star hotel

I want my last meal to be…
Cupcakes and chocolate milk

I squeeze my toothpaste…
From the middle (I know it’s gross.)

What’s the best advice you ever received?
Wear comfortable shoes

Coming Un-Hinged

2009-09-16T22:46:00.000-07:00

I don’t know if you remember this but I started to scrapbook last year. I like to think I am pretty good at it, because each time I review my handy work I get happy.

When I was starting out I had to stock up on supplies like paper, cutters, glue, stickers, and an album to store all my masterpiece pages that I had created. (For those of you who do not scrapbook this might not make sense, but just nod like you understand what I am writing about. I promise it will only take a moment.) When I purchased my scrapbook I purchased the kind that is bound together by hinges. I also stocked up on refill pages for my scrapbook. This year I come to find out that everyone got together and decided not to mass produce any more hinged scrapbooks. Not only that, but the stores decided that since the manufactures didn’t want to make them then they didn’t want to sell them. The hinged scrapbooks are gone, all gone- except on Ebay! Yeah only those stupid sellers want over $60 for an out-of-style book. (That is not including shipping.) I need one more hinged book to hold my overflow of extra paper. What was I supposed to do?

I have a fancy scrapbooking store down the street from me. I don’t usually go in there because this store is so expensive that it usually requires me to get a second mortgage out on my house just to enter the store. But I was so desperate I thought, ‘What the hell!’

Guess what? They had ONE left! And even better news it was on clearance for $19.99! Screw you Ebay!

This was turning out to be a great day. As I was skipping out to my car I looked up, and what should I see? A candy shop that’s what. Not just any old candy shop, but a British tea and sweet shop. ‘Where have you been all of my life?’

How could I have not seen this place before? The shop only takes up one entire city lot; it is that huge.

When I walked in the first thing I noticed was the smell of baked goods. That is because there is an English style bakery tucked into the back of the store. I didn’t stay in the bakery area too long. I was weak, and I didn’t want to give into temptation.

However, on the other side of the shop there was a candy store. It was beautiful. There were pretty jars of candy along the back wall just behind the counter waiting for me to take them all home. There were all different flavours, shapes, and colors; I was in candy trance.

Snap, snap, snap…where’d I go? Sorry I was just reliving the moment.

I didn’t buy any of that delicious looking jarred candy, but I did buy some interesting British chocolate. I picked the chocolate based on the name such as, Double Decker, and Wispa. I also got chocolate covered Turkish Delights; let’s just say I wasn’t delighted. Blah.

Nine-Eleven

2009-09-11T12:03:00.000-07:00

I have started, and re-started this entry four different times already. There is so much I want to say, but none of it seems to capture what I feeling.

This is to the children who were robbed of precious moments with a parent whom they lost due to a senseless act of a coward on nine-eleven…

This is to the children whose parent is a hero for our countries. They wait patiently, and pray every night for their parent’s safe return…

This is to the spouses who have lost ‘Their-Everything’, ‘The love of their life’ on nine-eleven, and to war…

This is to the soldiers fighting for my family, and my freedom…

This is for the all the lives who were loss senselessly. There are many lives that were lost in many ways…

This is for each and every one of us who learned that freedom is not something that we can take for granted…

I am not going to tell you that I feel your pain. There is no way that I can.

I did not experience the kind of tears that you cried; the kind of tears that ripped you into pieces.

I haven’t had to spend sleepless nights worrying if David or Holly are going to return safe and sound, because they is defending freedom. In fact I sleep soundly thanks to the American and Canadian troops who fight on the battle fields for me.

I have not had to sacrifice for freedom; but I am enjoying the benefits.

This is all I have to offer:

I hope you find peace someday if you have not already. Your ability to move forward is a testament to who you really are. You are amazing strong.

My Hero Only Wears His Bathrobe and Underwear to Save the Day.

2009-09-08T22:42:00.000-07:00

I am wearing two pairs of socks, a pair of slippers, a pair of sweat pants, a sweater, a t-shirt, a hoodie, and I have a heavy fleece blanket covering my legs. I forgot to mention I have an oscillating heater that is one foot away from me, and it is doing its best to keep me warm. It’s not working. I am still cold

This is not an archived entry from January; this entry is from September 8, 2009. It is 54 degrees outside. It is sunny without a cloud in sight. The way I am acting you would think it was 10 degrees below freezing, and I was somehow forced to live in my refrigerator.

I have turned off my inside heater. (I don’t want to heat the whole damn neighbourhood.) I cranked up all of my fans to high, and opened my windows. I have had to take all of these extreme measures because my husband is a good neighbour.

A few nights ago I was sitting around with some people discussing how idiotic the characters in horror movies are. What I want to know is why do those people go down the dark stairs when they hear spooky noises coming from the bottom?

From the comfort of my sofa I always seem to be shouting out my best advice, ‘Don’t go down the stairs! Get out of the house, and go stay at the Ramada for the night!’ Needless to say they don’t think much of my advice, because they tend to go down the stairs anyway. From that point forward their life is full of drama, and the possibility that some dude is waiting at the bottom planning to chase them around the house with a chainsaw. (I knew that was gonna happen, but bad for them for not listening to me. Why doesn’t anyone on TV listen to me?

Last night I was sleeping soundly, and all of the sudden David jumped out of bed, which woke me up. ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

‘Someone is knocking on the door. I am going to go to check it out!’

(I did not hear this phantom ‘knock’.)

‘Okay.’ I rolled over, and closed my eyes, but only for a few seconds. All of the sudden I heard what I thought was a big struggle, screaming, and then the door slamming shut.

I sat up, got out of bed, and ran to the top of the stairs. (Oh great; Now I have the opportunity to become the idiot character.) I held on to the top of the banister railing trying to decide if I should go and save my husband. After careful consideration I decided that he needed to be rescued. I crept slowly down the stairs, and that is when I looked out the window, and saw why David ran out of the house.

Our neighbour’s car was up in blazes! The flames were at least ten to fifteen feet tall, and growing by the second. I was sure the car was going to explode. Stupidly I went outside to join David. I looked over and noticed that David was only wearing his skivvies, and his bathrobe holding our garden hose trying to keep the fire from getting worse. My shoeless hero!

As I stood there helpless I also realized that my neighbour’s house could catch on fire any second. The driver of this now burning car had been under the misguided belief that his car should be nice and cozy. He liked to rear park his car up to the house with only an half a foot clearance. I betcha he was regretting that decision! (This person is not one of my neighbours, but instead a person living with my neighbours.)

I only live 1.2 miles from the fire department; thank God for that. Yeah but we had to wait FOREVER. Where was the fire department? What was taking them so long? Did they stop and get coffee?

The firemen came. FINALLY!!! They were able to save the house. There is some outside damage to the house. The car is demolished. The inside of the car resembles the embers that are left behind from a last night’s campfire. The entire inside is gutted from the flames. The outside is just as bad. It is surreal.

Our small town does not have a CSI unit, so we can not be sure how the car fire started. I know that the fire did not start in the engine, and it was 1:30 in the morning when the fire started. Things that make you go hmmm…

Now back to me…

Through out all of this commotion our garage became a dry place for people to huddle. We have a small cat door, which allows the cat easy access from the garage to the house. This cat door was also a great way for the smoke to invade our living establishment. Only now my home has a slight smoky smell to it. It’s nothing that a few fans and some open windows can’t handle. I am so cold! But it could be worse I could be without my best friends.

$pending my Money!

2009-09-04T23:22:00.000-07:00

It is 8:10 at night and I have been going non-stop for the entire day. Did I mention that Holly joined her middle school band? I am very excited about the never ending in-home concerts of ‘Hot Cross Buns’ which will play throughout the entire month of September.

No really, I am looking forward to Holly’s new music endeavour. At first Holly wanted to take the ever so popular standbys: acting, and art classes. Those would have been the easiest A’s she would have gotten all year. Don’t feel too bad for her; she has a very expensive Stevie Wonder approved keyboard, and a blue guitar she named ‘Betsy Blue’ just waiting to be played. The only obstacle she faces is her ability to read music; once she knows a C is a C she can play it. What better way for her to learn music but to join the middle school band.

She wanted to play the clarinet. I played the clarinet. We thought she could use mine. No go; apparently you can’t let a clarinet sit in its case for 20 years, because it can get mites! Ewww gross! I ended up buying a refurbished one that does not contain mites. I think it worked out for the best. Afterall you don't want to be swallowing mites while you are playing great pieces of music such as 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'.

I wish you could have been there to see Holly’s face when she was examining her instrument. It was a toss up between ‘I love it.’ and ‘Holy Shit there is a lot of keys on this thing!’

We had to finish up some last minute back to school shopping. We were smart, and went to mall early; we had the whole joint to ourselves.

I had a lot of fun shopping with my daughter. She is a ‘personal shopper’ just like her mother. She has an opinion regarding each and everything we looked at.

My only complaint, (Of course I had to have one) was the way the sales clerks bagged my items. I just paid for my not-on-sale-item. (I know it shouldn’t matter, but I thought I would mention it.) Guess what the sales clerk did? She rolled my new clothes into a ball and SHOVED it into the bag! AHHH! Why don’t you throw my purchase on the floor, and dance the twist on it too why’ll your at it. Please have some respect!

I worked in retail for far too many years to let this injustice happen to my new favorite clothes. Here is what I do to combat this mishandling of my articles of clothing.

I will take my balled up clothes out of the bag, proceed to slowly fold the clothes properly, and then place them carefully back into my bag. (I fold extra slow if there is a big line behind me. Hey don’t piss me off!)

I did a lot of folding today. BUT my clothes hit my hangers wrinkle free!

Table For One

2009-09-03T11:31:00.001-07:00

I can’t stand women who are needy. Women who have to be reassured that their man still finds them attractive. It makes me roll my eyes when women fret about if he wants to be with them or not. It is especially annoying when the man in question thinks that the sun and the moon revolve around her.

What does this poor fellow have to do? Sign legal documentation that says he will be with her ‘til his dying day? Stand up before all of their friends, family, and God, and say that he will always be there for her? How many years does he have to put into the relationship before he is considered solid? Two…Five…Ten…Nineteen?

I fear that I am turning into ‘one of those women’-gasp!

I love my husband dearly, and I am pretty confident that he has strong feelings for me. After all he has stuck around this long, and let’s face it I am not an easy person to live with.

We don’t have heated arguments. The last argument we had was in July…what was it about? (I am really thinking…) We were in the car. Why do most couples argue in the car? It took me three minutes to remember. (It was totally my fault.)

We were going to my brother’s wedding. We had to travel to get there. David had to work that day. It was my job to pack. David put out what I thought was all of the clothes that he wanted to take for the wedding; minus his suit. Not so much. Apparently he had only put out his causal clothes for the day after the wedding. Anywhoo- he didn’t have a white dress shirt, a wind breaker jacket, or causal shoes for the trip. I also forgot my passport, and the camera, which we had to go back for. (We caught that mistake closer to home, so we could turn around.) I was feeling like an idiot, so I did what any good idiot would do; I started a fight. Our fight, I mean my fight lasted 20 minutes. David finally ended it with his ‘I-Am-Really-Pissed-Off-Now-Voice’ which made me giggle. Fight over. I won, because I felt better once he was pissed off. What a relief. Sometimes it is difficult being with a nice guy.

I digress…

Lately I have been feeling down in the dumps. More to the point I have been feeling dumpy. I am married to a nice guy who is also attractive. He gets compliments often. Lately I feel that I have been fading into the background. He is not the cheating kind. His core values would never let him stray. But what if I am just not good enough anymore? What if he has to spend the rest of his life with someone who he thinks of as only a friend? I don’t think I could handle that. I love him so much.

I am sorry that this entry turned into a pity post. I am having a pity party, and apparently I am a great party planner.

I need to get focused. Change my thinking. Get a grip. I think I am just having a really bad day.

People who actually know us are going to think that I have finally lost what was left of my mind. As of today I probably have.

Update:

It is 10 to 10. I am sitting here reflecting on my day. I realize that it was ‘one of those days’. I know we all get them, and I not privileged enough to get a free pass. It is just this… I have an excellent life; better than most, and sometimes I just don’t realize how good I have it, and for not realizing this I feel stupid.

David and I spent the whole day texting each other, which is now my new favorite way of communicating when you want to say crazy things to someone. Before the days of texting I would get on the horn with David and start to babble in circles about stuff that didn’t make any sense. This whole process would leave both of us confused, mad, and drained. But thanks to texting I am limited to what I can say, because there is a limit to the amount of characters in one text. That doesn’t leave much room to mess around and say things you don’t mean. It’s too much editing. Then there is the time lapse, which is good. You don’t have to hear the other person’s silence on the other end as you bare your soul. (Why doesn’t he get why I am so angry?) Instead you can pretend the delay is due to the fact that he is very slow at texting.

He sent me sweet texts in which he professed his undying love to me, and he finally convinced me that I was just having a shitty day.

He was right this was a shitty day. I worried about things that are never going to happen. Tomorrow I am going to do something constructive with my time: like go on a date! To Vegas? No! Damn!!! To the movies? Maybe. We’ll see.

I Can Beg, I Can Plead, But I Am Not Getting What I Want From You.

2009-09-01T23:42:00.000-07:00

I have a good friend that I love very dearly, but right now I am frustrated with her choices. I absolutely know without a doubt that I do not have any right to be frustrated. It is not my business, but I still let it eat me up inside.

Here is the deal:

My friend is very overweight, and has a lot of health issues. At the moment this is her circle:
She has some foot issues. Her foot issues are made worse because she is overweight. She needs to lose weight so she can walk on her feet. In order to lose weight she needs to exercise. It is hard for her to exercise due to her foot issues, and also due to the fact that she is out of shape because she has not been able to exercise. She can not lose weight, and therefore her feet are still in very poor condition at best. It has gotten so bad that at the age of 52 she has a handicap parking pass, and has to have a wheelchair to go shopping. She can not go for a walk with her husband; instead she sits in the car and draws while he walks the dog. I am certain that this is not how she wants to live her life.

Now she has another circle to add to the mix: she has fibromyalgia, and needs to exercise to lose weight to help manage the pain, but…and the circle goes round and round. She can not get a break.

She is also diabetic, and has bad case of sleep apnea. I am no doctor but I believe that if she lost weight she would have a better quality of life. If she doesn’t lose the weight; well… then she may have no life at all.

Hey if you want to be chubby that is fine with me. It makes me look better when I stand next to you. I don’t want to save the world by making sure there is a lapband in every fat person’s stomach. I have many overweight friends, and I like them very much thank you. I happen to be overweight myself. But then there is this friend who just makes me scared that I am going to lose her to her weight. Now I know what my family felt like.

We have discussed the possibility of her getting the band, and we don’t see eye to eye when it comes to her reservations.

1. It is not a matter of money; however she doesn’t feel that she is worth spending that much money for a lapband.

Yeah, but how much will your funeral cost? Or even worse what if you continue to get sicker; how much will the emotional and physical pain cost?

2. She is concerned that she is an emotional over eater; and as such she is afraid that the band will not prove effective.

But I ask you were we not all emotional over eaters? We did not get fat by portion control, or eating the ‘right’ foods. We ate what felt good, and we ate big portions.

I understand that you have to get in the right frame of mind before you can take on such as an endeavour such as this surgery, but what if your life is at stake? What if this is the end of the line? It is so hard for me to watch her suffer.

I know that I can not tie her to the car, drive her to the hospital, and throw her on the operating table to get a band. (I would if I could.) I know it is time for me to stop hounding her, and just let her be, and let God take care of her. I am not going to discuss the lapband with her anymore, because why beat a dead horse? I needed to get my frustration out, so I am writing this entry. If anything happens to my friend I can go back and read what I wrote, and know that I did everything I could to help her. I can’t save everyone; even the people that I love. I just hope that God can. I believe in miracles! I love you dear friend, and you are worth it!

What Times Is It?

2009-08-31T18:39:00.000-07:00

You might think I am coldblooded, but I am not too fond of babies. Let me correct myself and say that I am not fond of the work that is involved that it takes to take care of a baby.

You have to feed it, which takes a hell of amount of effort, because they want to eat constantly. Apparently babies have yet to discover the breakfast, lunch, and dinner concept. Then there is the changing of the diapers that comes as a result of the constant feeding. My question is how can such a little tummy hold so many poops? Of course there is the bathing, the burping, the cooing, cleaning up their spit-up, and my personal favorite trying to appease a fussy crying infant. Oh, I almost forgot the lack of sleep! How could I forget that?

We can’t forget what happens to mommy. We get the stretch marks, the sagging belly, and my personal favorite sexy milk leaking boobs.

I have a daughter, and as you probably can guess that I didn’t pick her up at a bus depot when she was five. I had her from start. Raising her was wonderful. I loved performing 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall at 3:00 am. (Anything to help her sleep.) I loved wearing spit-up stained shirts; there was nothing sexier.

She was an excellent baby. She was rarely fussy. She was very easy going. It was a pleasure to raise her. It was, and continues to be the best thing I have done with my life.

Having another child is kind of risky. What if the next child is not as easy going? What if the next baby turns out to be a butt-head? What if the next baby doesn’t appreciate 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall? I would have to learn a whole new song. I just don’t have that kind of time.

Some people want large families, some people don’t want any children, and there is us, a family who only wants one child. We are not risk takers so David had (in his words) major surgery to ensure we stay a family of three.

We were chugging along just fine with our ‘only child decision’, but a few weeks ago I started hearing a very faint “tick-tock” in the background. Was that my biological clock ticking?

Is my body punking me? Do you remember when I fell off of the table on Holly’s birthday? I must’ve hit my head harder than I thought. I am blaming all of this on that fall. It must’ve knocked something out of whack in my brain- oh I know what it was-it was the RATIONAL part.

It’s not that I don’t like babies; I do. I like OTHER people’s babies. My motto is let the other mommies feed them, hold them, burp them, and change them. I don’t like to get involve. Tick-tock, tick-tock, shhh… be quiet you! Well maybe I’ll take some notes, but I am still not going to pick up your baby.

I am ashamed to say that I have a touch of baby fever. I caught myself walking down the baby isle at the grocery store looking at the cost of baby diapers, toys, and food. Thank God I haven’t gotten to the point where I am stalking, and chasing down infant strollers just to get a glimpse of ‘your beautiful baby’. Tick-tock.

I knew of this happening to other people, but I never thought it would happen to me. I like my life the way it is. I like sleeping through the night, and doing whatever I want without having to worry about what the baby wants. We have a pretty good life just the three of us so I am hoping; no I am on bended knee praying that this baby thing will pass.

*Plus there is nothing I can do about it anyway thanks to David and his major surgery. Thanks David. Screw you biological clock!

Tired and Texting

2009-08-30T20:50:00.000-07:00

Iam so freaking-out tired that my eyelids are requiring tooth picks to keep them in the open position. I have been nodding off all day just like grandpa after Thanksgiving dinner. In my coma like state I have had the pleasure of watching the crappy TV shows that my husband, and daughter love. Oh crappy is too harsh of a word? Try two words: Dr. Who. Who watches that show? Come on, if you do please tell me, and maybe just maybe I will stop teasing them. How could the show be that bad if there are other people in the world enjoying that crap-tact-u-lar show?

I am typing this entry from my BlackBerry, which I love by the way. I am trying to improve my texting skills, and so I thought the best way is to blog my entry via my newest favorite toy.

I think everyone should get a CrackBerry. You can do everything with the help of this thing. Not to be crude but it will even help get you laid! There is an app that gives you pick-lines! (Not that I need any help in that department.)

Since I find it so amussing to text my blog from my phone I will be texting my entries from my BlackBerry in my other blog- 'Left to my Own Devices'. Look for me and my phone there!

UPDATE

2009-08-27T23:28:00.000-07:00

You might be disappointed in me but I must stop 'dieting'. The more I diet- the more weight I gain. It seemed to me the less I worried about my weight the more weight I lose. I am quiting.

There is more exciting news. I am going in for surgery at the end of September to have my port re-done. Apparently my port has done a little dance in my tummy, and I need to get some work done.

Good news: The pain I feel around my port when I move will be gone.

The could be uncomfortable news:

I have to go back in to get a full blown surgery. No half-assing it for me. I will become a proud owner of 3 inch scar on my tummy, because my doctor can not reposition my port without cutting. Oh and the port is being sewed on to the muscle. Best news of the after-surgery pain may be the same as it was after the lapband. Ouchie!

I am going back to eating whatever the hell I want. No more calorie counting.

This Has Been an Interesting Summer

2009-08-24T23:10:00.000-07:00

There have been a few changes in my home in the last month. My daughter turned 12. It hit me like a ton of bricks falling from the sky going 1,000 miles an hour. BAM! Great now I have a parental concussion. Now I know what Wile e. Coyote feels like when the side of the cliff drops on his head. But just like Wile I brought on these stars that are swirling over my head.

My daughter is has two personalities. When she is at school she is outgoing, she joins every sports team. Expect track, she hates track! Just ask her. She is on the student council, and she has no lack of friends.

When she comes home she is quiet, and she will not leave me side. I encourage her to get together with her friends instead she sighs and she tells me that she is tired, has too much homework, or she doesn’t have her friend’s phone number.

My fear is that she is becoming a staying-at-home-daughter, because she is worried about me. As you know I am bipolar, and I think this has caused her to grow up faster than I would like. I am only guessing but I think that she feels that I need to be taken care of, and she is the one who is best suited for the job. My job is to make sure that she mentally fires herself from that job.

I had enough this summer. I decided that she had to live her life for her own good. David and I sat down with her and told her to go out and have fun. She finally took our advice. Thank you Jesus! (Sigh of relief.)

She found all her friend’s phone numbers, and started to go to the pool, the mall, and having sleepovers. Her calendar is always full. Ha! Holly you’re fired! Here’s your pink slip!

My phone hardly rings. Correct me if I am wrong, but is she not supposed to be tying up my phone line? I work for the phone company, so I prepared myself. I gave Holly her own number, which rings twice when her friends call. Her friends never call. Instead they MSN! All the wheeling-and-dealing happens online. She will be quietly typing on her laptop, and all the sudden she will lookup, and ask me if she can go with so-and-so to somewhere.

I was so looking forward to yelling up the stairs, “Holly, get off the phone!” Well there is always a silver lining, which is if you ever want to give me a call my phone line will not be tied up by silly tween conversations.

When I ask her why she doesn’t use the phone; she rolls her eyes and says, “Oh mom, we don’t use phones ANYMORE!”

Humph! Anymore…what? How did I get old?

Excuse me I got off track. The reason I am composing this entry is to announce that Holly has her first boyfriend, and she ‘hearts’ him. I am not too worried about it, but it is making me want to tie her up, and lock her in the closet.

Her boyfriend is similar to Holly. They are both active in sports, and they are on the honour roll list.

He is shy. David and I stay involved as much as possible. We took them out to dinner already, and the poor boy couldn’t even eat, because he was too nervous. He kept his eyes on David the whole time. He barely could spit out three words. It was cute.

From what I can see he is really sweet to my daughter. She just had her birthday, and he took her shopping so he could buy her a gift. They shopped for four hours, but she could not make up her mind. He ended up giving her the money instead. The main point was he went shopping! What boy will do that? Her father that’s who. David will go shopping to make me happy. It is my hope that she will always pick nice, smart gentlemen.

I know you might not agree with David and me when it comes to Holly having a ‘boyfriend’, but we feel that we can not stop her. She might do it behind our back. We support her and as a result she tells us everything that happens when they hangout. (We knew we she had her first kiss. GULP!) They go places with us. (After all they are only 12.) We met his parents. This is the first step down a long road of boyfriends, and if we get up-to-date post cards along the way it will let us sleep better at night. (Maybe.)

Let Me Explain

2009-08-22T23:28:00.000-07:00

First day journaling: Not so hot. 1825 calories consumed. *EXACTLY*, 2000 calories burned. Not quite what I was hoping for. Let's see where my downfalls were.

After a two second review it might have been all of the bread products I ate. Two croissants, two rolls, and a gallon of peanut butter. I missed the protein boat.

I can only think of one positive thing, which is I normally eat a late night goodie, but since you are watching and it was not a day for the record book I am going to skip my late night snack.

No Where to Run to Baby...No Where to Hide!

2009-08-22T12:41:00.000-07:00

(Foreshadowing music…)

Dum-Dum-Dumb-Dumpty-Dee-Duumm…Dumpty-Dee-Dum-Dumpty-Dee-Dummmm…

Today is the BIG day- I start food journaling. UGH. I want to have a stellar attitude about this, but I think I like burying my head in the sand a lot more.

I am going to food journal like I promised. No problem. I figured out that (and this is the ouch part…) if I am at the computer journaling anyway that I might as well jump over to my blog and report in to you.

Yes you will get to witness my days of sainthood, and gluttony. Unless I have fallen ill from consuming a cow, you will see my calorie count for that day. If you take a moment and look to your right you will see a section that reads: “Calories Consumed per Day”. You will be able to see if I went over, or under my target. (Please let it be under!)

I am using Apex, which is the Bodybugg system. I have a calorie tracker on my arm that tracks every calorie burned for that day. I am supposed to journal my food intake, and hopefully be at a deficit. My Bodybugg, who’s name is Bob, request that I burn off 2000 calories per day. Apex has instructed me to keep my calorie intake to 1500 calories per day.

I am going to make a commitment to you that I am going to keep you updated for two weeks. At which time I will re-evaluate my situation.

You Should Never Start A New Diet on Friday Night.

2009-08-21T10:00:00.000-07:00

I am not going to weigh-in this week. I got my ‘monthly shipment’ in, and I don’t think it would be fair to my self-esteem if I got on my scale. (It might not be fair to my scale either.) I promise next week that I will be standing on my scale ready to report my progress.

Do you food journal?
I do it when it is convenient for me. I don’t mean in the way of time convenience. I am talking about eye convenience.

It is virtually impossible for me to food journal when I see the words ‘cheese burger’, ‘pizza’, ‘Starbuck’s mocha’, on my journal menu.

Where are the words ‘chicken breast’, and ‘carrot sticks’? I can be a real downer to see the calorie counter moving up. Quick cover my eyes I don’t want to see that.

I know what you are thinking:
"But Amy, would you not say that food journaling is most effective when you have had a stuff-your-face-day?"
"Are these not the situations why some brilliant diet guru invented the idea food journaling?"

"Isn’t the purpose of food journaling to help motivate you to stay on track; SO you won’t be tempted to eat that really big helping of pasta with garlic bread? "

I agree that the answers to all the questions above are a big fat YES!

I am a trouble-shooter by nature. If something needs fixing; call me. Naturally I sat down and evaluated my situation. I came to the conclusion that I was not going to move forward with my weight-loss journey unless I keep an eye on my road, which meant I had to start food journaling once again. Unthaw the chicken, and break out the scale! No more eating out, because I can’t food journal restaurant items-who knows what is really in the food? (Fat, fat, fat, and more fat!)

I hatched a plan. Well it’s not really a plan, but more a pledge.

I know you can not see me, but as I am typing this pledge I am raising my right hand. (It is good thing I am left-handed, because typing this pledge would be really challenging, and thus the pledge itself might end up being too short for what I need it to say.)

“I solemnly promise…”
(Wait a minute… What does the word ‘solemnly’ mean? According to Google’s dictionary the definition of the word ‘solemnly’ means: “In a grave and sedate manner.”

Oh, did you notice the word ‘grave’ in the definition? That sounds serious. It may even be bad for my health. I can not chance it. Back to Google I go. The definition for the word ‘grave’ is: “requiring serious thought, momentous, or it can also mean dignified and sombre in conduct or character.”

Wow, I can not remember the last time someone referred to me as sombre. In fact I can’t remember the last time I had a serious thought that was momentous; all the while having sombre conduct. It is safe to say that I will not be using the words ‘solemnly’, and ‘grave’ in my pledge.

I am going to amend my pledge to better suit me.

Ahem...

I really-really-really promise to journal everyday; no matter what. I will be honest even if I have been a total pig that day. I will not fudge the calories to make myself to feel better even if I eaten 5,000 calories in one sitting- I will journal them. For better or for worse I will learn from the past, so that future days will turn ou t better.

I am serious about food journaling. I will do it. BUT…tonight happens to be David and I's 19th annual dinner and a movie date; which includes the following: hot wings, cheese burgers, milk shakes, movie popcorn, and m&ms. Granted I won’t be able to consume every last morsel on my plate, or in my bag- thank goodness for my lapband. That being said I can’t mustard up what it takes to journal these ‘sins’ on my first day. Therefore, I have made an executive decision that my food journaling will commence as of Saturday.

Hey, so I am not perfect!

Party Mama / Weight Loss Challenge

2009-08-14T11:23:00.000-07:00

Today is Friday, August, 14. I weighed myself today, and I am down to 171.2, but I think it was a fluke. This week I am going to limit my sugar intake. Close your eyes…picture a mountain of sugar. Now picture me sitting on top of said mountain of sugar with a straw. That's me loving my sugar! I need to get off of that mountain.
Goal for this week: Limit sugar intake.

Holly just had her 12th birthday. It was a busy day for me. David and I decided to throw a ‘surprise’ 7:00 am birthday party for her on her birthday.

We had been teasing Holly for the last few weeks in various ways with regards to the arrival time of her birthday gifts. (Truth be told it was mainly me. Okay truth really be told it was all me.) I would tell her that we were unorganized, and as a result she would not be able to get her gifts on the day of her birthday. I told her that we might be able to get her gifts to her by the following Sunday. She advised me that if I that if I waited too long that her gifts may sold out due to overwhelming demand. It was hard for me not to giggle; I don’t have a poker face. We already had the most awesome gift- a laptop- thank you very much!

I was happy. That was until Holly got me back. Normally Holly’s birthday list includes: books, a hoody, an Idog, the 4th book in the Twilight series, and so on. I had no intention of fulfilling her ‘wish list’ list; I left that to my mother in law.

Like I said I had bought her a laptop, a pink one. I also bought a carrying case with cute flowers on it. Here is where my money situation got a little non-refundable. I had the store program the computer, and add Microsoft Word, which was $200.00 investment.

For the first time in her life she actually asks for ‘something’ for her birthday, but it was after I had already purchased the laptop. She tells me shyly that she reconsidered her list, and she would like a Wii. (She figured that I haven't gone shopping yet, so revising her list shouldn't be a problem.) In addition to the Wii she gives me a list of the games she would be happy to get. As she hands me the list then she adds: ‘I don’t need anything on this list, so you don’t have to buy anything on it. If you don't want to.’

My daughter does not ask for much. When we go to the grocery story she buys her own gum. That is just how she is. For example a friend took her birthday shopping this year; they walked around the mall for four hours; she could not find anything that would be worthy enough to spend money on. Her friend ended up giving her the $40 in cash that was suppose to be for the gift. She plans on saving it.

‘I don’t NEED anything on the list, so if you want to use my first list you can.’ Because you guessed it- everything on the first list contained stuff she NEEDED.

I piped up, and told her that birthdays are not always about asking for things you ‘need’ it can be asking for things you ‘wish for’ as well. (SHUT UP AMY! YOU ALREADY BOUGHT THE LAPTOP. SHUT UP! IF YOU RETURN THE LAPTOP YOU WILL BE OUT $200!)

‘Okay I would really LOVE to get a Wii!’

Crap.

David and I had to hold several special birthday meetings. We were both scratching our heads about our situation. We both came to the conclusion that we were screwed. We decided to keep the laptop, and hope for the best. Maybe the Wii will be a future Christmas gift.

Fast forward to 7:00 in morning of Holly’s birthday; it was time for the surprise party. We had 3 kinds of cakes, helium balloons, streamers, banners, and other birthday party stuff.

I got up at 5 am on the morning of Holly’s birthday to decorate. Everything was going great. I was hanging streamers; which looked fabulous.

I was putting up the streamers in the dining room, which has a ceiling that happens to be a little too high for me. Being the genius that I am I decided to use the dining room table as a 'ladder'. My system was going well… that was until the table lost its balance, and it toppled over with me on it. I hit the floor with a thud, and my heavy table landed with a thud on top of me. Hey guess what? It didn’t hurt too much; apparently I am able to withstand a table falling on me without harm. I kept hanging the streamers, but I used the dining room chairs instead. The show must go on.

The surprise party was a hit. She loved the laptop.

Holly ordered homemade pizza for her birthday dinner. It was time for me to make the homemade pizza sauce. (I let that sauce simmer for four hours. I have been watching The Food Network so I knew that simmering would let everything marry.) I made the pizza dough "Lucy Style"; meaning that flour and dough went flying all over my kitchen. (Dough actually ended up in my hair.) My kitchen was a mess. Yeah but unlike Lucy I didn't have a stage crew to clean up my mess!

Fast forward to today I can't move. My injuries include the following: A six by four inch bruise on my left forearm. I have a bruise on my inner left wrist, and my left hand is also bruised from top to bottom (my fingers were spared).

I also have some big bruises on my thighs. (Those bruises are from the stupid HEAVY table.)

I am not complaining or anything, but if I believe in evolution I SHOULD not be tempted to table dance again. But then we will see.

The Last 14

2009-08-06T12:41:00.000-07:00

I am having a pep rally! Do I hear a woot-woot? I am on a weight loss challenge to lose the last 14 pounds! Yes I am down to the last 14!!! I know; I can’t believe it either!

I need to explain something before we go on. I am not going to be a size 8, or probably not even a size 10. I am striving for a size 12. I want to be curvy and delicious.

My goal weight is 158. Can you believe that I am going to be 158? I know (again)! 90 pound weight loss...giggle...giggle...giggle!

After I get down to my goal weight I am going to some plastics done. I want to get my tummy all firmed up.

What is my time frame? Good question. January 6, 2010; 5 months is totally doable.

Let’s rally. I need all the support I can get.

Hey I Got A Job....As A Personal Shopper!

2009-07-24T13:28:00.000-07:00

Before you ask where I have been; I was abducted by a secret military agency that needed my help in protecting the world from terrible salespeople.

It all started when my brother decided to get married…

My mother was very excited about the upcoming wedding, and she wanted to treat me to something special. I was excited by the fact that I would not be shopping in the ‘moo-department’ for a formal dress. She decided to buy me a dress to wear to this happy occasion. My mother had the brilliant idea that we go downtown and help each other find our perfect dresses. Ahem…I love my mother, but she needs my help in the fashion department much more than I need hers. However, I need more help in the wallet department, so this arrangement worked out beautifully.

Did I say wallet? To me if you spend $80 on a dress you paid too much, but if you found a dress marked down to $80 you got a good deal. Well let’s just say my mother does not subscribe to my price-point ideology. Let’s say she is not one to shop at Macy’s, or even Bloomingdale’s. Bloomingdale’s most expensive dress is the same price as the most marked down dress on clearance in the store she likes. (I just checked Bloomingdale’s website.)

When I checked the price tags of these dresses my heart literally missed a beat. And guess what? WE were going to get dresses from here! I decided maybe she was going to get a dress from here, but I could not do it, as I would have to wear my dress everyday for the rest of my life, and be buried in it to amortize the dress’ cost to a reasonable price. My mother is very generous bless her heart, but what if I spilt something on it? I think I would have a heart attack! No seriously I would.

I have never been in that high-end of a retail establishment; we poor folks tend to shop in the sticks. As a result I was overwhelmed by the bright lights, and the number of salespeople. The only thing I thought was their major downfall was there was no espresso machine. I figure if someone is paying $6,000 for a dress give the person an espresso damn it!

I mentioned that I was from the sticks right? I looked the part too. I had picked out some really cute clothes to go downtown in: lovely shorts, and a really cute top. I used to work downtown, so I know the score. We had been having a heat wave so I made sure I packed shorts, and only shorts. Yeah but the only problem was the next day our heat wave was over. I just packed these stupid made for heat wave clothes. I had to wear my dad’s sweater, my old tennis shoes, and the capri pants I wore last night. (Normally I would have just worn the damn shorts, but it was too damn cold, and it was raining.) I was a mismatched mess. My mother has her own style, which I call: ‘I wear what I want, and I don’t care what you all think. It only matters that I like it.’ As a result she looked a little mismatched too, but that is the norm for her. I forgot to mention my sister was there in a wheelchair looking pathetic, and my daughter was ramming her into the racks due to the fact that she does not have a ‘wheel chair driver’s license’. Yes, we were a motley crew.

So picture this: Four people, who should be shopping at Wal-Mart and using the layaway plan, wander into store where the prices could be for used cars, but instead were for articles of clothing.

(Please don’t touch our stuff, please don’t touch our stuff. Oh damn they are touching our stuff.)
I bet sales ladies drew straws to see which one had to come over to greet us. (God, this was going to be a waste of time!)

My mother spent the next hour picking out dresses, to which MY DAUGHTER had to add to the change room. When my mom was picking out some Oh-So-Lovely-But-Are-You-Kidding-About-These-Damn-Prices-For Dresses; I found my mother some Hey-Since-Your-Crazy-Anyway-Why-Don’t-You-Buy-One-Of-These-Too.

We went into the change room; the sales lady HAD to come with us. I just want you to know that every dress that my mother tried on was ‘amazing’; according to the sales lady, but every dress was ‘crap’ according to me; with the exception of one.

The sales lady thanked me profusely for my opinions. She agreed with my estimations, but she claimed she was not allowed to tell customers that the clothes did not look good on them. WHAT!!! Are you telling me people are spending over $3400 for one outfit…(While my mom was shopping I put together an outfit that’s how come I know the price. It was jeans and a top) … and you have to nod and say, ‘That looks marvellous on you!’

She said it was a good thing I was here to tell my mother the ‘truth’. Whew!

The sales lady asked why my mother was in need of a dress. (My mother was in the change room at the time of our conversation.) I advised the sales lady that we were going to my brother’s wedding.

Sales lady: You must treat yourself at least once in a lifetime

Me: …

Sales lady: After all the hard work your mother has done she deserves something very nice for herself.

Me: ...

Sales lady: She can wear this dress not only to your brother’s wedding, but to Christmas parties, New Years parties, other weddings…

Me: Funerals? I mean she has to get as much mileage out of this dress as possible.

Sales lady: …

My mom finally picked a dress. Wrap it up let’s go home! Wait! it isn’t that simple. In a hooty-tooty establishment there are seamstress’ to make sure the dress is perfect. There is a pull in the dress. We will fix it. Come back tomorrow. Okay.

Mom now wants to take advantage of my sense of style, and try on the other items which I picked out. I am going to tell you up front the other items are cheaper than the dress, but that is a given, right?

At that particular moment I may have looked like a style-fool, but I don’t shop like one. She loves all of the clothes that I have picked out. She’ll take’em. Now I notice that my newest bestest-friend: the sales lady is looking worried. I am surprised. She should be happy, because she just scored a really huge commission, and she didn’t have to do anything. (My daughter added the clothes to the change room, my sister, my mother, and I pick out the clothing, and I sold them. She just stood there making sure we didn’t steal them.)

It dawned on me…she thinks my mother is going to change her mind about the dress! She thinks my mother is poor and can’t afford to buy it all.

Mom: Okay I’ll take all of it

SL: Instead…I will put them on hold and you can THINK about it. Just buy the dress today.

Mom: Why?

Me:(Laughing in my head…this stupid sales lady doesn’t think my mother has a pot to piss in! I don’t know if I should say anything, but I will. My mother isn’t getting why the sales lady doesn’t want her to buy the other clothes too.) I start to laugh out loud…

To the sales lady I say:
…You have a better chance of making this huge sale today then you will tomorrow. I won’t be here tomorrow, and if she tries it all on again tomorrow she might decide to go in another direction

I am still overcome with laughter.

SL: (reluctantly) Okay
(Then it finally dawned her that my mother is a NOT a Wal-Mart-Put-It-On-Layaway-Person). Now the fun began…now we needed accessories, shoes, and expensive jewellery. Nope, nope, and no, sorry lady you had your chance.

My mom laughed when I explained the sales lady’s hesitation to sell her the other clothing. She said that it happens all the time, and it doesn’t bother her; she likes it that way.

I got a dress too. Not from that store. My dress was designer dress. I don’t know how much it was. I purposely didn’t look at the price tags. It was the first designer ANYTHING I have ever owned. I love the dress she bought me. I plan on wearing it to Christmas, New Years, and birthday parties. I think I might wear it to pool parties too. She even bought me silver ballet slippers to go with my dress. The shoes make me feel like a princess.

But you know what was really cool? She also bought me a Calvin Klein t-shirt; you know the one with the rhinestones. It was a regular size LARGE! and it was on sale. (But my mom ended up paying regular price, because the cashier rung it up wrong. I so wanted to go back and fix it, but my mom said ‘Oh well.’)

Dancing David's Parents into the Poorhouse.

2009-07-04T18:56:00.000-07:00

Let’s see what has been happening in my life?

David got a new job , and really and truly that is why I have been away. He didn’t start right away so we have been playing this whole entire time. The house has been falling down around us but it hasn’t seemed to bother us in the least.

David is starting his new job on Monday. This is the last step for him in a long road that will take him to an accounting designation. (For me that means a really big house, and big garden; hot damn.) Like I said before he hasn’t started yet, so we had to get him spic-and-span for his new job: a new hair cut, new shirts, new shoes and some new suits. His parents bought the suits as a ‘congratulations’ gift. If I had to dress David he would be wearing potato sacks; do you know how much suits cost? Gulp!

The whole family had to come for the suit shopping event. It was laughable. All five of us stepped into the men’s store in awe; like we were walking into heaven. I think we were overwhelmed. You have to understand that all of us had waited for this moment for a long time- especially David.

The shark, or as some call him a salesman started to circle his prey. I knew the happy gushing was a bad idea. It was like going into the ocean with your legs already cut off.

Usually I am pretty good about getting rid of salespeople, but this time it was harder to do, because the whole family was doing the conga dance down the small isles to the suit section. Our new dance instructor (a.k.a. Shark Boy) was all too please to take us to the expensive suit section, and then for some reason that is where our conga line seemed to end.

I learned 8 things that day that I would like to share with you; just in case you find yourself having to surf the waves of a men’s retail shop.

1. Don’t bring your wife. (Or don't go with your husband.) What? That is so unlike me to say, because I am so pro-me, but in this case I mean what I say. Instead of asking David if he liked the suit Shark Boy insisted that David had no opinion in the matter, because I was going to be the one looking at him. “And we all know ‘She’ has better taste.” (I was waiting for him to call me ‘The Mrs.’

2. There are three people who have to like the suit, and it goes in this order: ‘The Mrs.’, ‘Shark Boy’, and then ‘The Poor Sap’ who has to walk around in the suit. Quote from Shark Boy, “Boom, Boom, Boom!” Pointing to me, then to himself, and then finally to David.

3. Pinstripes are in.

4. Shark Boy says that you must wear colourful suits. I inquired why was his suit was black. I also added for good measure that the nice black suit that he was currently wearing allowed him the opportunity to add a great splashy tie, and a nice shirt. He replied, “I am only wearing black because it is the only suit I own.” Good call Shark Boy!

5. These suits are too expensive for Shark Boy.

6. It is fun to go shopping with the entire family! The whole family was gathered around the small fitting room impatiently waiting for the next fashion show. Since we had nothing better to do one of us would take turn screaming over the fitting room door: “How’s it fit?" or " Honey, is it too small?”

7. When you get to the cash register keep a poker face when you hear the total.

8. And the last thing I learned was this: don’t get on your hands and knees and start worshiping David’s parents in the middle of the store. Worship them outside.

Toxic

2009-06-11T13:06:00.000-07:00

I am not a person who takes pleasure in another person’s misery, but I take pleasure in knowing that I am not part of someone’s misery. Does that make sense? I will explain…

Do you remember: La La La I am not listening anymore? It was a classic blog entry in which I discussed my new relationship with my bathrobe, and my old toxic relationship with an ex-friend. I have some updates.

My old “friend” who I will refer to from this point forward as “Toxic T” has only a handful of friends. (I wonder why.) When I was thrown out on my ass I was one less victim…I mean friend. She only had 5 in her circle. Last week I got an email from another one of Toxic T’s victims asking me how I was doing? I thought, ‘Why is she consorting with the enemy?’ It turns out that she has been on a quest to find me for some time, because she walked away from Toxic T! Walked away? Who does that? I couldn’t do it.

I believe with all of my heart that if Toxic didn’t throw me off the train I would still be riding the rails with her; unhappy as ever. We talked for a number of hours, and we hardly talked about the Toxic One. It was just good to catch up.

Now let’s see if I am good at math: Toxic only had 5 friends. I am gone, Victim #2 left; wow that only leaves her with 3. Things are unravelling.

What if she loses more victims? Who will she pick on next? Her husband? Nope he is already beaten down.

Deep down I know that other people will be smarter and braver than I was. They will wise up and kick Toxic to the curb. It may take them time, because it is hard to breathe when you are breathing toxic fumes, but it is possible. Her victims will realize that they are beautiful, and that they deserve to be treated better than this.

I guess I am just glad to know that it wasn’t about me. I have peace, and I have a friend back, and that just goes to show me that people think highly of me despite the company I kept.

35...and Getting Older by the Minute...

2009-06-05T14:19:00.000-07:00

Since I lasted blogged I had a birthday. I was seriously considering not having my birthday, and just staying the same age. But since that isn’t possible, and I really like chocolate cake, and presents I decided to have my birthday. I think if there was no such thing as cake there would be a lot less birthdays in the world. It’s a birthday conspiracy; and cake is in on it.

I turned thirty-five, which means I am strongly advised not to smoke because it increases the risk of serious cardiovascular side effects including blood clots, stroke, and heart attack if I take birth control pills. The good news for me is that I do not smoke, but now I HAVE to be careful. Well it is settled…I won’t take birth control pills. I just can’t chance it.

My free-time is going to be taken up by spending time in the beauty department. Did you know that age 35 is when the face starts changing and noticeable wrinkles around our eyes and on the forehead appear? Vanity is such a bad thing. Wait I just thought of a solution: BOTOX, BOTOX, BOXTOX, and more BOTOX. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before!

Honestly I am feeling better since I started this entry. Maybe turning 35 isn’t too bad.

If you have been following my blog you will remember that I made goals for last year.
Fishing
Dancing
Running

Fishing: Here is what I accomplished:
I studied youtube.com until I learned how to set up a fishing line like a pro.

I spent time with a neighbour who fishes almost everyday. He taught me how to cast, and handle my rod. The people who are fortune enough to fish with me while I cast-out really liked that lesson. (To be fair I have only sent five people to the hospital for fishing related accidents.)

I went fishing with my brother, but we didn’t catch anything, which was not my fault. My brother thought his superior fishing skills would allow us to catch fish with no bait. He forgot the bait at the dock, and did not want to go back. I firmly believe if we had had bait I would have filled the boat with fish.

I am still going to continue to fish over the summer, but I will be very careful not to forget the bait.

Running: Did it! I can run 5km. It is still difficult, but I can do it.
This running thing is the challenge I hated the most. Having said that I am going to keep this challenge for another year. (Now I am making a frowny face because I have to keep this challenge.)

As for the dancing don't ask.

2009-06-01T09:23:00.000-07:00

I have not been well, and I continue to be ill. I can not keep up with my blog in my current state. I asked David to be a “ghost writer” but he said, ‘no’.

My mind feels like it is short circuiting, and I am having a difficult time being able to function-let alone blog.
I don’t know what the next few weeks are going to look like…
I wish I could just tell you what is in my mind, but I can’t.
The good and the bad of it is is the doctor’s have changed my meds, and we are all crossing are fingers.(These new meds have terrible side-effects in the beginning.) I am hoping I am able to write by the weekend.

Bipolar people are brilliant people with talent and energy, but like everything else in this world there is a cost. Right now I am just pay off my "tab”.

Jean-Do: A Hero.

2009-05-15T22:51:00.000-07:00

Usually I don’t use my blog to do a movie review, but there is a first time for everything. Recently I had the pleasure of watching a movie called the “Diving Bell and the Butterfly.”

This movie is a French movie with English sub-titles. Normally I shy away from foreign films, because I find them to be pompous and confusing.

I even hate Canadian films. I get so angry when I rent one by mistake. I sit down to watch what I think is going to be an ‘okay’ movie, and then I see it…The Canadian Government symbol, which means that my government subsidized the bill for the film. I think to myself, ‘Great just great now I have to spend the next 90 minutes watching a hoser movie.’ (Hoser is Canadian slang meaning loser. Hoser is pronounced: hose-er.) 8 times out of 10 I am right. I am such a movie snob.

Last week I sat my movie snob butt down and surfed through the pay-per-view movies I came across a French film that intrigued me. David was sleeping and I thought maybe just maybe I could become a bit more cultured.

Here is the movie’s premise:

On December 8, 1995 Jean- Dominique Bauby, the editor-in-chief of Elle magazine, suffered a stroke and lapsed into a coma. He awoke 20 days later, mentally aware of his surroundings but physically paralyzed with the exception of some movement in his head and eyes (one of which had to be sewn up due to an irrigation problem). He wrote a book. The entire book was written by Bauby blinking his left eyelid, which took ten months (four hours a day). A transcriber repeatedly recite a French language frequented used lettered alphabet: (E, S, A, R, I, N, T, U, L, etc.), until Bauby blinked to choose the next letter. The book took about 200,000 blinks to write and an average word took approximately two minutes. The book also chronicles everyday events for a person with locked-in syndrome. These events include playing at the beach with his family, getting a bath, and meeting visitors.

Jean-Dominique Bauby was an ordinary man with an extraordinary illness. I am an ordinary woman complaining about the happenings of my ordinary life. Sometimes I need a reminder that I am not as broken as I feel. Wait I take that back…I am as broken as I let myself be, and that’s the truth.

As I watched this amazing true story I sat in awe of this man’s endurance and will. And I pondered what would I be like in that situation? Would I have the same endurance and will? Or would I give up and wilt away? When the days and nights seem long and endless will I remember this man’s journey? Will I preserver and go on? I hope so.

I think…wait I KNOW you should see this movie, which is on video. Or at least read the book. Don’t let an opportunity to see the world through someone else’s eye pass you by.

I give this movie an A, and a thumb’s up.

6 Days, 21 Hours 28 Minutes...

2009-05-08T11:26:00.000-07:00

I changed the name of my blog to: I REALLY WANT A STARBUCKS! As it turns out I can live without a cookie, but I am not sure that I can say the same when it comes to Starbucks coffee. I have had to give up the most wonderful morning drink of my life. (I am aware that you may not LOVE Starbucks and I am not holding it against you. We are still friends.)

I am depressed. My coffee machine is on the counter with no one to love it.

What I want to know is why the pharmaceutical companies never invented a “Starbucks Patch”? You know a patch that would be similar to the kind of patch that people wear who want to quit smoking. It would be awesome, because every so often I would get a hit of espresso to my nervous system.

I am a one Venti-a-day drinker. So far I have been without a Starbucks for 2 hours and 56 minutes.

It is not all bad news. I can go back to my espresso sin in one week-if I want to. (Yes, please.) I am going back to my addiction for both of our sakes. If I don’t get coffee after one week than all of my entries are going to be about Starbucks, and they are going to have a real bitch flavour to them. That is “if” I can write. I might be in a padded room rocking back and forth plotting my escape to the closest Starbucks.

Time until next Starbucks: One week. Only 6 days and 21 hours to go.

Damn you Howard Schultz for opening a coffee shop that I love so much!

Amy, Amy, How Does Your Photos Grow?

2009-05-07T22:51:00.000-07:00

I am tired of all of the grey weather that we have been having; in order to feel better I went for a walk. Isn’t a walk supposed to make a person feel happier? Yeah, except I took a walk in the rain, perfect timing is not my forte. This is where I should mention in addition to Noah’s Ark’s rainfall there was also a gusty wind storm. Looking back on this whole situation I think my ultimate downfall was my failure was to look out my window.

Can you picture me in a rain storm walking against the wind? And you know what I forgot? My power boots, that’s what! I left my pink sparkle rain boots at home. Instead I wore the shoes my daughter refers to as “n-ike”. I tell her over and over again-the shoes are pronounced: “ni-key”! (Don’t argue with me. I am smarter than you!) Wait, I was the one that was wearing the dumbass shoes in a storm. AM I REALLY the smart one?

In my cold hands I have a hot pink IPod and a camera. A camera! Really? Why? I decided that I wanted to take pictures while I skip down the street trying to snap as many pictures as my camera would allow before it ran out of batteries.

Photography might be a good hobby for me. If you remember I am in the market for some new hobbies.

First attempt at a hobby: Photography in a storm with limited battery life.

I am going to show you the fruits of my labour. The good news is you will get to see a glimpse of how I see the world. Look at these photos and please give me feedback. These photos were taking on my street. Please look at these photos and please give me feedback.

And the best news: In the end the walk did lift my spirits.

It's a Zoo in There! Where? My Head- Silly.

2009-05-04T14:52:00.000-07:00

Today I feel like I am trapped under an elephant, and I am doing anything I can just to keep breathing. It is like a constant pressure that I am feeling on my chest. I just checked, and there is an elephant sitting on me. I named him Jim.

However large he might be I don’t think Jim is my only issue. I am feeling a lot of other things that are causing me discomfort, and I will name those issues “Stress”. I have to say at this point I much prefer Jim to “Stress”.

I am not going to go into the reasons why me and “Stress” are hanging out, because I think that that will be a pointless exercise. I am not one of those people who complain. (Ouch- I was just struck by lightning. Are you okay Jim? Now Jim and “Stress” are hanging. I don’t think a stressed elephant who is sitting on you is a good thing.) Let’s just say I have a lot of my mind, and I wish that I didn’t. I have a lot to deal with, and I wish that I didn’t. I want to go back to simpler times; you know when the only time I saw an elephant was at a zoo.

You know what really ticks me off? It is when people say that they are having a “panic-attack”. If you happen to suffer from panic attacks then who am I to judge, but I would rather say I have an elephant named Jim hanging out with me than run around having panic attacks. Not only will I be stressed, but people will think I am crazy. Oh, and guess what? I will have an excuse to go to Costco and buy a lot of peanuts.

Happy Birthday Dear David

2009-05-03T12:23:00.000-07:00

I have had a lot on my plate in the last few weeks. David turned 40! (Right on David! Congratulations for living this long!) Maybe not, he is okay with the fact that he is becoming a “mature adult”, but I am not. Forgive me when I say that 40 seems so old. What happened to 20? We met when he was 21, and he never told me that he was going to turn 40. That is called false advertising. I didn’t know he had fine print, and I didn’t know that I was suppose to read it. I know you will find this hard to believe, but I was as shallow then as I am now. If I thought this whole David aging thing through; I might’ve just “leased” him for 8 years. (You know like a car.) Yeah but the only problem with leasing is- you have to make the “lease” or “buy” commitment at the time of purchase. And as far as boyfriends go he was (and still is) a Ferrari, so how could I not buy him? Who wants to “lease” a Ferrari? (Only a complete dumbass-that’s who.) Wait! Don’t Ferraris get more valuable with age? Yes they do! Too bad he isn’t a car. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression-too late. I would not trade David in; even for a newer Ferrari. My Ferrari is exactly the way I want it to be.

It is really not his age that paralyzes me- it’s my age! (Yes it does always come back to me.) My thinking is this: If David turned 40 then I will turn 40 in 5 years and 3 weeks. I am not ready to be 40 yet! I am running out of time.

I don’t care about wrinkles, or grey hair. (Truth: I do color my hair and wish I didn’t have wrinkles, but I am trying to make a point!) Being 40 scares me, because I have been waiting for the “perfect” time to start “living”. If I don’t get my butt into gear than I will spend the next 40 years of my life perfecting on being the ultimate online solitaire player. I can’t let life pass me by. I need to spend the next 5 years 3 weeks perfecting other interests that will fulfill my life, so by the time I turn 40 I will be an expert at “living my life to the fullest, and I won’t be afraid to have adventures.” I am going to tell you a secret: I am scared. Playing solitaire is so much easier.

Here is my plan: I am going to raise money for a new espresso machine for my birthday, because I think better under the influence of caffeine. I am going to make a list of the things that I want in my future. I already know one thing: I want a big back yard full of hydrangeas and cherry blossoms. I need a plan, because I need to get moving on this “mid-life crisis” that I am having on behalf on David. I am a wonderful person, because how many people would have a mid-life crisis for their partner? What? A Drama Queen? Shut up!

Warning This Entry Has Not Been Edited for Content

2009-04-22T18:30:00.000-07:00

The sun is shining, and the cherry blossoms are in full bloom. I love this time of the year; because everything is so fresh and new. I love walking outdoors and taking it all in, so why am I on my butt procrastinating instead of going for a walk?

Let’s see I have done nothing today, and yet I have managed to do everything to make sure I don’t have to go outside and enjoy this perfect day:

I have talked to several of my friends, so much so my ear is red from hours of phone exposure. I had to tell them all about the excitement I felt when I got my AMEX card in the mail yesterday. (David was pissed off about the interest rate. (24% - and that is the preferred rate…) He wanted to know why I didn’t do more research.) I told him I needed “Airmiles” for a new espresso machine. I need 7000 and currently I only have 2079. I told him to pay it off each and every month so there will be no interest. He still gave me his angry banker/accountant face.

By the way there is no problem getting credit. I am on disability and David was a student, and those guys at AMEX were all too happy to extend us credit. Now I am well stocked with credit. I have Visa, MC, and AMEX, a mortgage, and a line of credit. I am proud to say that I don’t owe money on my line of credit, or credit cards, and I don’t make car payments. But there is the mortgage, and that is a way different story, because my house is worth jack. What I want to know is why the banks think I need over $50,000 in credit? It has been rumoured that my parents first home was around $20,000, so in essence if this was 1974 I could buy their home with no down payment or employment, because I could just use my credit cards. (I think you can buy you some houses on credit if you want to buy real estate in Detroit. In fact I hear that some houses are so cheap that most people can use their pocket change; I saw in the news that there were houses for sale for $100. That is really sad. ) Too much credit- not enough money; no wonder our economy is in the dumps. I am doing it again- procrastinating. I should really be going for a walk…

I did it, I am amazing! I just took a two hour tour around my neighbourhood. I don’t know why I left it so long?

I could really go for some chocolate ice cream. David likes the ice cream that is the 3 flavours for the price of one. You know the strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate one. I think it is a waste, because the chocolate one is always the first one to go. It is a real disappointment to go to the freezer and believe that you are going to get chocolate ice cream only to find out that all that is left is crappy vanilla and strawberry. I just looked we don’t have any ice cream. Bummer.

I started this entry a week ago, and I still am not finished. Why? It is not like I have a billion and a half things to do. I am just really tired. Hey but good news I now have 2162 “Airmiles”!

I keep telling myself I have to post this entry even if it is boring. I want to write about other exciting new developments in my life, but until I finish this entry I can go no further. I am just going to post this damn entry as-is! I am even too lazy to edit! Oooo I hope the next entry will be better.

Shenanigans!

2009-04-11T11:25:00.000-07:00

My dad used to spin tall tales when I was a child. He would tell my friends and me outrageous stories. Recently, according to my mother this was one of his latest shenanigans:

My dad and she had gone to an outdoor market last spring. My dad had his golden retriever with him, and a woman walked up; she told my dad how much she had liked his dog. (This was this lady’s first mistake. She should have never stopped to chat with my father.) During the conversation he somehow convinced this gullible lady into believing that his golden retriever could talk. According to my mother who has nothing to gain; my father was so believable, because he was able to get this woman on her knees in the middle of the outdoor market trying to get the dog to say something. My mom had to walk away, because she was mortified. (Now this part is based solely on my dad’s testimony.) After a few more tries of getting the dog to talk the lady asked my dad if the dog really talks; to which my dad replied with a straight face, “No.” Then to make matters worse he started to giggle at his handiwork. The woman (I am only assuming that it was because she was upset.) slapped my father and walked away.

Did I mention he was a lawyer?

I am not a lawyer, but I do fancy myself as a quick study and sponge. Therefore I too have a gift for pathology spinning stories when it suits me. I applauded my dad for his effort, but I give his follow-through so-so marks. I think I could have pulled it off without getting caught. Unlike my father I am careful with my gift, and I don’t use it often. (I might have used it more often but Holly was born with some sort of immunity to both me and my father’s gift. That means she has never believed our bullshit.)

Holly and I carpool to school with my neighbour and her nephew. (Which means my neighbour drives both kids to school and then we get Starbucks afterwards.) The children do not attend the same school, so we have to drop Holly off first, and then we drive across town to deliver Teri’s nephew to his school.

Let me paint you a picture of Teri’s nephew: He is cute. If my neighbour doesn’t catch it he will go to school with a juice stain on his face that resembles a happy face up his cheeks made from the rim of his juice cup.

He is 8; however due to…ummm…having parents that have been extremely busy that has left him to fend for himself socially. His parents are non-existent by choice. It’s not like they have high paying power jobs- one works at a fast food restaurant, and the other sits in his car all day and smokes. These two clowns just…I have to shut up or I am going to have to start a new blog entry about how much I hate how these two parents parent their children.
Ahem… back to Teri’s nephew as I said he is 8 but because of lack of attention he is more like 4 or 5 when it comes to social development. He interrupts conversations, shouts when he talks, and has no social manners.. However all that being said I like the little guy, I like talking to him, praising him, and spending time with him; except at 8 in the morning I don’t have the energy.

There is one thing I forgot to tell you about him and that is: he is a math genius! At the age of 8 you can verbally give him a set of numbers to add up (plus) or subtract (take away).He is able to do it in his head in a matter of seconds. “What is two-million plus sixty-one million plus five million” He will correctly answer “68 million! Give me a harder one!” This game can go on for the entire ride to school. I have become his personal Alex Trebek. One day I just could not do it anymore, so I did what I do best. I spun him a tale; it went something like this:

Amy: Hey Jake did you read the newspaper yesterday?

Jake: No.

Amy: Did you read the news on YAHOO?

Jake: No.

Amy: Oh, okay.

Jake: What is it?

Amy: I can’t tell you. I don’t want to be the one who does.

Jake: Please tell me. Please!

Amy: No. It would ruin your day. I am NOT about to do that. Please don’t put me in that position.

Jake: You won’t ruin my day. Just tell me.

(I was silent for 5 seconds, which in kid world is 5 hours!)

Amy: Okay, but remember you asked me to. I would rather you Googled it when you got home.
(Deep breathe… after all I was about to deliver devastating news to an 8 year old.)
I read in the newspaper that the Easter Bunny broke his hopping leg.

(His eyes got big!)
Jake: Oh no! How?

Amy: I really don’t know. All that the newspaper said was that is was a “hopping accident”. You know how vague those guys can be.

(Jake nodded his head vigorously in agreement as if that those newspaper guys had previously screwed him over with their lack of reporting information.)

Amy: The newspaper said that the doctors were going to perform an emergency operation to see if they could fix his hopping leg, so he might be able to hop by Easter.

Jake: Does that mean if they don’t fix it that he won’t be coming.

Amy: No! The Easter Bunny is coming no matter what. If his leg is good then he will be able to hop again and hide you eggs, but if his leg is still broken he is going to come, but he is just going to throw your candy in the middle of your living room. You know because he can’t hop.

Jake: This is terrible.

Amy: Well at least he is still going to come, because if it was me I would go to bed, and stay there. But he is dedicated enough to come and give your eggs, even if it means that he just throws them in the middle of your living room. Just think how much easier it will be to find your eggs.

Jake: What hospital is he in? (I think was testing me.)

(Without hesitation)
Amy: Cedars-Sinai Hospital in Las Angeles. That is where the best doctors are. That hospital is so good the celebrities go when they are sick.

(Really worried sounding; I almost felt bad..almost.)

Jake: I hope the doctors can fix him. I want to hunt for eggs. Hey Amy, if he has a broken leg how will he get to my house?

Amy: Well he normally hops but if his leg is still broken he will drive a car.

We are finally at his school. There was no screaming, (I mean talking.) there was no math quizzing. I did no harm, because the Easter Bunny is still coming broken leg or not, and I gave him the best doctors. I have faith that Cedars-Sinai could fix the Bunny and save Easter!

He got out of the car, and my neighbour swatted me. “Don’t you think he is messed up enough? He thinks the sun and moon revolves around you. Everything you say is the truth.”

I didn’t know that. After all I didn’t believe my dad when he told me that same exact fib last year.

We contemplated if we should drive back and tell him the truth, but we decided against it, and went to Starbucks instead. The next day I was at my neighbour’s house and Jake’s father told me that because of my Easter Bunny story he had to “suffer” and listen to Jake talk about the Easter Bunny tragedy for two hours. He didn’t even know it was Easter Sunday this weekend until Jake told him about the Easter Bunny. (Where have you been buddy? For the last two weeks that is all Jake has talked about. If he was consumed with Santa Claus, Superman, Peter Pan, or anything else I would have tailored my story matter around one of those guys. You dum-dum!)

The next time I saw Jake I told him that I read in the newspaper that the surgery was successful, and everything was going to be okay. His Kool-Aid smile on his cheeks got even bigger as he jumped up and down.

The Wheels on the Bus go Round and Round as the Lips go Flap, Flap, Flap.

2009-04-02T10:40:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it is hard to blog. I sit in front of my blank white electric paper with a blinking cursor and try to think of things to tell you. I have standards you know. I want to make sure that I am honest, yet entertaining, and most importantly not too whiny. Because if you met me in real-life over a cup of a non-fat, half-sweet, no whip mocha at Starbucks I don’t know if I could be this entertaining. Sure I would tell you about how great David and Holly are, and I would tell you how much I love Starbucks coffee. I would also inform you that I am planning on marrying my Starbuck’s barista if anything happens to David. (I hope and pray nothing does, but it never hurts to have a contingency plan.) You might think I am cold hearted, but my barista makes perfect coffees in less than 20 seconds, and it doesn’t hurt that he is a little good looking.

Oh God I hope he doesn’t read my blog. He has a girlfriend that has been happily dating for the last 5 years. I can see why see took him off the market- imagine waking up to perfect coffee everyday (FOR FREE!)

It would be embarrassing if he was reading my blog at this very moment. I am starting to rethink the subject matter. Who wants to hear about my dog? No?

You would think I would learn after the “Bus-Incident-of-1992” I can remember it clear as a sunny day. You never forget a defining moment.

My friend and I were at the front of the bus oblivious to the rest of the world, because we were doing what we do best, which is what I like to call “gossiping”. I was very extra excited that day, because some very interesting “facts” had unfolded. It was my duty to “debrief” my day.

I started the debriefing. I made sure my friend was making her mental notes. My friend did her job very well of nodding at the right spots, and making sure her eyes had the appropriate amount of hugest to them if I had said anything that required dramatics.

“It all started in class today… I mean I knew he was flirting with me since you know- like forever… but today he was you know different…When I came into class today he was all smiles and “Hellos" he wouldn’t stop talking with me...

Jenny finally piped up and said: “Dude, he totally likes you.”
“I know! He totally does.”

He may have liked me very slightly, or maybe he was just in a really great mood. However during this particular conversation I put on my fisherman’s hat, “You should’ve seen this fish it must’ve been 50 pounds! That is a record you know.”

(Actually it is; I Googled it, and as of this date it is. My congratulations to Don Walker, 61 of Gunnison, Colorado.)

I was dating David at this time, and I was totally infatuated with David, but having someone else pine after you never hurt your ego. Am I right? And bragging about it is even better for your ego.

We started to do what teen girls always do under these circumstances: which was to raise our voices, and giggle. We discussed the subject as if we were beating a dead horse. (Kind of like what I am doing now.)

It was a long bus ride; maybe too long. All the sudden I receive a friendly tap on my shoulder; it’s THE guy. He was sitting behind me- OH CRAP!!!! I didn’t know what to say. I was gobsmacked. He smiled, and said, “If you’re going to talk about someone you should look around to make sure they are not sitting behind you.”

Even though I was embarrassed he was gracious. He did not hold it against me. He was still kind to me at school. He soon got himself a very lucky girlfriend.

Lesson learned: I will no longer gush about people who have the "hots" for me while I am on a bus without looking behind me of course.

Candle Lights and a Romantic Dinner.

2009-03-23T11:59:00.000-07:00

My husband and I have been married for 14 years. We have been “together” for 19 years come this August. 19 years! When we started dating I thought if we made 2 months that that would be a good run. We have definitely exceeded my expectations. Ask me how this happened. Okay, I will tell you; but it’s just because you asked.

One afternoon after we had started dating I was upset and sobbing. David told me if he kissed my tears away we would be soul mates for life; like two lovebirds. Of course I thought he was crazy. 223 months later we are still together. We are the happiest when we are spending time together. When he is not here I miss him. If you want to gag I understand; however if you think about it we have no choice - we have the “Lovebird Curse”.

Definition of a Lovebird: The name Lovebird stems from these parrots' strong, monogamous pair bonding and the long periods of time in which paired birds will spend sat beside one another. This is reflected by the bird's name in other languages: in German, "die Unzertrennlichen", and in French "les inséparables", both meaning "the inseparables".

I don’t want to give you the impression that we are not without challenges. We have two areas that have threatened one of us to move out and get our own “cage”.

Number 1: We fight over lamps- to be honest we fight about all lighting fixtures. We can not agree on lighting. We have had to do a lot of compromising. If we didn’t I would be sitting in the dark at this very moment. We have almost gotten divorced in the lighting department in IKEA.

David: Oooo…I love this lamp! Amy, come here, and look at this lamp. (I should mention that he is all smiles.)

(I know this is a trap. I know I should just stay put. I don’t want to cause a scene. But nonetheless I drag myself over to him. This should be an excellent show for the other shoppers. Hey why are they selling popcorn? And where did those theater seats come from? I don’t remember those when we came into the lamp department. And do I hear the movie voice over guy?)

Me: David! It is a stop light lamp! Tell me you are kidding.
David: I really like it, but I also like this one.
Me: David, really, we do not need a lamp that changes colors! Come with me, and I will show you some REAL lamps.

(I show him the “grown-up” lamps.)

David: I hate it…I don’t like it…I hate it…WHERE we would we put that?

Then a miracle happens. I pick up a lamp and he says: “That one isn’t too bad.”

I did it. No more showing him lamps. He could change his mind, and we could end up with a stop sign lamp on our wall. Then something terrible happens. IKEA has sold out of our “marriage saving lamp”! It seems that the lamp we want has probably salvaged a lot of trouble marriages. I crumble to the ground, and start to cry.

(The voice over guy poses the question: “Will David kiss her tears, or buy the traffic lamp?)
David reaches for my hand, and he kisses me, and then we badmouth IKEA for the next 20 minutes.

“How dare they not have the lamp we want? What were those buyers thinking not buying enough lamps? I think we should boycott this store.”
“I agree.”
“I mean forever.”
“Me too.”
“Well we can come back for inexpensive kitchenware, and tea lights, but that’s all.”
“Agreed”
“Let’s go out for lunch.”
“Where do you want to go?”

That brings me to the second issue: We can not agree on where to eat. We can spend an hour driving around “picking out" a restaurant; only to end up at a fast food establishment. In order to save our marriage we both accepted that this is our way of life. As a result we don’t go out for dinner that often. And we do go out we take Holly with us and make her to pick the restaurant. She is better at it then we are, so it works well. Everyone is happy.

I will be honest we did have one fight about where to eat. It was our 3rd anniversary, and I asked David to take me out to dinner for our anniversary. When I got in the car he asked me where I wanted to go. I was so mad, because he had not planned dinner. I thought he should have planned it, because this was the only thing I asked for as a gift. I refused to talk to him. We drove around in silence. (Now that I think about it it’s pretty funny.) I finally told him I wanted to go to McDonalds. (He was mad at that point. Good it served him right!) We got home, we were about to get out of the car; but before we did, there were some words exchanged which caused me to throw my fries at him. (HA HA HA!) He sat in the car stewing for an hour or so. I went into the house to stew. I did feel bad. I finally went out to the car and told him I was sorry. We did end up going out for dinner that night, but I can’t remember where we went. We made a promise to each other never to let poor dinner planning get that out of hand again.

March 18 we celebrated our 14th wedding anniversary. We were not able to go out for dinner due to circumstances. That was a close call!

1200 minutes of Free"dumb".

2009-03-22T12:44:00.000-07:00

Free isn’t always best. Let me think of something that I wouldn’t mind getting free.

I thought for exactly 7 minutes…

Well not including the obvious such as Starbucks, breakfast, lunch, dinner, and gifts. I fail to think of anything else. It seems that what you pay for is what you get. “Oh hey look this blouse is 95% off! I can’t believe my luck. Hey why is there 50 of them on the rack?” It’s because that 95% discounted shirt sucked. Nobody wanted it. Most likely it made people look fat, and who would buy one of those? "But 95% is such a deal…" Okay it’s your closet space, but don’t say I didn’t warn you! I realize the shirt was paid for and not free, BUT it will be free for person who gets it second hand. “Do I look fat in this free shirt? Crap I hate Free-Fat-Shirts I would rather have Fat-Free-Shirts. I would pay a fortune for one of those.”

As you know I have a daughter and sometimes David and I take advantage take of what we like to refer to as “Free Babysitting via Sleepovers”. It is simple enough, David and I go to the store and pick up a kid approved dinner, chips, soda, and some candy. (We totally rock in the parent department!) We feed them their requested dinner, and send them downstairs to do whatever kids do. From time to time they emerge to get more soda, but they are still self-maintaining. David and I sit back and watch TV. It is perfect arrangement for the cost of a DVD, and $3 worth of bulk candy we get the title “Most Awesome-est Parents Ever!” (I know we have to pay for dinner and candy, but we would have to feed her anyway, so it doesn’t count.)

Last night we hit a snag…it was called: It-is-Time-to-Settle-up-Your-Babysitting-Account-Because-Nothing-is-Free-Baby. What-Did-You-Think;-You-Would-Get-to-Ride-Easy-Street-Forever?

Holly asked to have a sleepover last night. I said yes, and David and I high-fived each other, because we knew we were going to be able kick up our feet and relax. Not so much.

It all started with the tween blockbuster movie Twilight. Actually the issue was more about the lead male actor. (I am not making this up…) You see my daughter and her friend watched the “special features” and I guess it was revealed that during the “making out scene the lead actor was so “into” the female lead actress he fell off the bed during the make-out scene. This “fact” of the apparent true love between the two actors outside of the realm the movie caused this 11 year old so much trauma that she went into a screaming fit which also included crying, thumb sucking, and rocking back and forth.

After a few minutes we managed to calm her down, but only after the promise she could go and visit her mom. She called her mother, but her mother wasn’t home. It turned out that her mom had “taken the night off”. Apparently I am not the only parent that knows about this free babysitting thing. When our darling guest was able to reach mom via her cell phone she found out that her mom was having a lovely time at a restaurant with friends. The fact that her mom had a life outside of her “mommy responsibilities” made our thumb sucking pal very upset, but she let it go, and hung up the phone.

Whew…That was close; anyways back to the carefree sleepover. Things were going well. That was until dinner. Dunt..dunt..dunt..dun..

First of all I don’t know if this was our mistake or if it was fate, but at any rate I refuse to point fingers. It was Holly’s fault! She is the one who poured the drink of doom; she gave our manic visitor Dr. Pepper! (For shame Holly for shame.) All four of us were having a nice enough dinner, but that was until our friend asked (more like demanded) for more Dr. Pepper. David and I said, “No.” I know! Can you imagine? We hardly say no. We don’t have to say it often because Holly is very reasonable, and doesn’t ask for anything outlandish. If we do say no, she is accepts it. The only reason we laid the hammer down is because if she had had more soda there would not have been enough for later. I guess our company doesn’t respect the word “no” because she had a tantrum. I am not kidding she had a full blown tantrum that a two year old would have had to applaud to for being so dead on accurate. David and I were not faced with a challenge like this before. You see Holly NEVER had tantrums of such epic proportions. (She just hated her stupid bed at nap time, but after a minute or so of a discussion she was up sleeping in her stupid bed.) The tantrum we were faced with was a 10 out of 10 for drama. She staged a sit-in inside our fridge, she cried, she screamed, she kicked, she even got the bottle of Dr. Pepper and ran around the kitchen, and some other things that I have managed to block out. As parents we didn’t cave and we won, she didn’t get any Dr. Pepper. (Calm heads prevail. Plus we couldn’t do anything to her, because she didn’t belong to us.)

Like any good hosts we moved into the living room for some good after dinner conversation. (Truth be told David and I were thinking that the girls would retreat downstairs-no luck. I knew we should have gotten rid of the all extra furniture in the living room. Two chairs are all we need.)

First she put on a “show” for us in which she danced, and sung (Did I say sung? I meant screamed) very loudly. I was afraid we were going to get a noise complaint. We asked her to cease and desist, but that just made it worst. We could not send her home; because her mom went A.W.O.L. (At that point I couldn’t blame her?)

I suggested we bring out my Cookie Monster life size puppet. That guy is so cool. He looks like the real one. You can move his hands, head, and mouth. I mean you can actually shake Cookie Monster’s hand. How cool is that? Usually we bring the blue guy out to entertain people. David has perfected the monster’s voice; the only thing we are missing is the brick wall for David to hide behind. Kids love it, but adults love it more. The adults actually interact with Cookie Monster as if he was the real deal. David says it because most of friends our GEN-Xers, and therefore we grew up watching Sesame Street on PBS.

Anywhoo- We brought out my best-est puppet, but you know what? The “monster girl” attacked it! She beat him up. She tried to pull off Cookie’s eyes, break his mouth, and kept punching him. We tried to put him away, but she was so disrespectful she would pull him down and attack him some more. I finally took him away and gave her my best “evil eyes”, and only then did she leave my toy alone.

Holly took her guest downstairs but not before having a conversation with me. I felt so bad for my girl. She had tears in her eyes. Here I was thinking about myself; I had forgotten that my daughter was being forced to deal with her friend. How terrible she must’ve been feeling during all of this

We hatched a plan: I told Holly to go downstairs and tell her friend that she (Holly) is in so much trouble that if she (Holly) and her guest do not stop acting up that she (Holly) will never be allowed a sleep over never-ever-ever again. I (meaning me) am so mad. She (Holly) has never seen me this mad before. I told her keep crying because it would look more devastating as she delivered the news. About 10 minutes my daughter came up all smiles and gave me thumbs up.

We finally got peace; but it was freedom with a price. It is 11:33 in the morning and David and I are tiptoeing around the house. We do not want to wake the girls up. I am hoping- no praying that they stay asleep for another hour or so, because 1:00pm is time of departure. “See ya, thanks for comin’!”

I know there is something wrong with this picture. I know that I should be concerned, and not so interested in my need for comfort. I know this is not an excuse but I am ill-equipped to take on an endeavour to get to the bottom of this-if there is a bottom. She has been our guest before and we have not had this kind of drama before. I am left speechless. Can you image me speechless? I guess it does happen…

*At the time of posting of this blog they did wake up. My daughter looks awful, in fact she looks like a bus ran her over. 4 minutes and counting...

The Sun Always Shines on TV

2009-03-20T14:44:00.000-07:00

Guess where I have been? I have been watching TV- that’s where!

I loved it, I love it, and I will always love it….cliché

I loved the 80’s sitcoms:

Bosom Buddies: (Tom Hanks in a dress! Who knew he would become an A list actor. I thought the blonde guy made a better looking woman, maybe it was because he was a blonde.)

Diff'rent Strokes: ("Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?")

Family Ties: (I wanted to marry Michael J. Fox. I think this was a turning point in my young life. MJF character was a teenager who was a smart business minded republican. It was during this period that I started to think smart equals sexy. “Oh baby, tell me more about the “Modern Portfolio Theory”, and “Relative Income Hypothesis”…That’s so hot!” *** Hey David is an accountant that’s what I have to work with.

Growing Pains: This show was a filler show for the afternoon, but overall it was a decent show.

Silver Spoons (Okay I have to confess something: When I was in 5th grade I told the girls in my class that I had actually met Ricky Schroder, and he liked me so much that he wanted to date me when I turned 12.)( I was such a geek.) (Ricky if you happen to be reading this blog I am truly sorry to have included you in my web of lies. That being said...Maybe we should go ou...no wait I am married.)

The Facts of Life (You take the good-you take the bad-you take-them-both-and there you have the facts of life-the facts of life…)

The “dark days” as I like to refer to them was when I moved out on my own with my best friend. (If you have been a long time reader of my blog; she is the one who loves Christmas.) In these “dark days” we had no cable!!!

Our puny budget did not afford us the luxury of cable. Seriously! I almost moved out in order to find me some TV. The only saving grace we had at the time was that we were able to get the slightly snowy, but free CBC channel on our TV. We watched really bad Canadian programming like a British soap opera that aired on Sunday mornings; I think it was called Coronation Street, and we had the pleasure of staring at crappy Canadian news, eh? But I am saving the best for last! By some programming miracle we were able to catch All My Children at noon every Monday to Friday. I need you to understand that up until this point during my TV watching obsession I had not yet experienced a soap opera. I was under the misguided impression that folks who watched soaps were a fanatical group of people. But I was desperate for a fix. And it was 1992! And Tad was coming back! Hooray! Everyone thought he was dead; they even had a funeral for the guy (I mean nothing says dead like a funeral). The suspense! Are Dixie and Tad going to get back together? “Wait whose Tad?” IT DOESN’T MATTER BECAUSE I HAVE TV!

…and a VCR

We would come home after work with our boyfriends in hand, and catch up on the goings on in Pine Valley. All four of us would watch the show as we ate dinner, and discuss the drama. (Shhh…I want to hear this part.) Can you image; our boyfriends were AMC addicts too! In those “dark days” we bonded over a grainy television screen.

And then we got cable….Good bye All My Children! (I haven’t watched the show since.) Hello Prime Time!

The 90’s had some good shows like Seinfeld, and Friends, but most of the others were pretty unforgettable.

Maybe I was finally growing up. I was married; I had a baby, and a mortgage. It was true that I had a bigger TV and more channels, but I wasn’t as addicted as I once was. Was my passion gone? No, maybe, oh shoot…

Hell no! I call this period in my life “nothing good on”.

I guess a lot of people were going through the same “nothing good on” phase as well, and network ratings were in the toilet. The guys who ran TV must have gotten pretty worried. Sitcoms weren’t working; dancing babies on Ally Mcbeal no longer captured our hearts. What were they going to do? They must’ve put their heads together and thought long and hard.

Guy in charge of TV 1: We need to save TV!

Guy in charge of TV 2: I know! Why we don’t put ordinary people on TV doing crazy things for money.

Guy in charge of TV 1: You mean like a game show?

Guy in charge of TV 2: Sort of... This is what we do… Throw the “contestants” in a jungle, or on a stage, or in a house, and let them fight to the death, and then throw a little bit of money at the winner.

Guy in charge of TV 1: What a magnificent idea. I am completely sold!

At first I did not watch reality television. I resisted it. I stayed tried and true to sitcoms, and primetime television.

It all started with Trading Spaces. Hildi… Hildi… Hildi… I loved to watch the homeowner’s reaction when they saw that they would be working with Hildi. I bet they were thinking, “Crap, after this show is over my friend is never going to talk to me again!” And there was Hildi proudly saying, “Let’s put some feathers on the wall shall we?” And what about farmer Frank; pink and forest green are totally outdated Frank. All those tears for $1000; what’s that about? Was it worth it? I rather go to Home Depot and takes my chances.

My favorite shows are the reality shows that promise a job at the end of the game. American Idol, The Apprentice, Hells Kitchen, Kitchen Nightmares. (You could say I have a thing for Gordon Ramsay.)

My DVR is full of reality shows. I can’t get enough. Hey ABC, CBS, NBC, FOX feed me more! I love cheap TV Thumbs up to those guys in charge of TV they had me all figured out afterall!

Just a Little Bit Superstitious

2009-03-07T10:56:00.000-08:00

I hate to admit it, but yes I am just a little bit superstitious. I believe one should knock on wood after touting good fortune and taunting bad. I try to remember to throw the salt over my shoulder if I should happen to spill salt on the table. The only problem with that is I actually don’t know what shoulder is the correct shoulder, so I throw it over both. (I am warning you it may not be the best idea to sit directly behind me during a meal, because some days I can be very clumsy with the salt, and person behind me doesn’t stand a chance.) Back to my superstitions:

I won’t give someone a purse or wallet without money in it, because doing so will bring that person bad luck. (Plus I might need a loan from them later.)

A cat will try to take the breath from a baby. (This superstition is 13 days new. “Where is my RING, Ringo?”)

Washing a car will bring rain. (That is why my car is now grey.)

To find a penny heads up brings good luck. (I just like finding money period. I would consider it REALLY good luck if I found a $100 bill with Benjamin Franklin smiling up at me I would think my luck was phenomenal.)

Crossing your fingers helps to avoid bad luck and helps a wish come true. (Who doesn’t do this? I know I am not alone on this one.)

A cat has nine lives. (DAMN IT!)

To have a wish come true using a wishbone, two people make a wish, then take hold of each end of the bone and pull it until it separates. The person with the longer end gets their wish. (Yeah but the only problem is- I have a short attention span so five minutes after I have won the “Battle of the Bone” I have forgotten what I wished for, so I don’t know if my wishes ever came true.)

If you blow out all of the candles on your birthday cake with the first breath you will get whatever you wish for. (But have you noticed the older we get that it is harder it to earn our wish?)

If you blow out your candles and there are some still lit; the lit candles represent how many boyfriends you have. (But have you noticed the older we get that we have become players?)

Garlic protects from evil spirits and vampires. (David told me this, but he knows that I HATE vampires, and he seems to point this particular superstition out when he reeks of garlic. “Oh yeah eat more and protect me. "You are so good to me, baby.”)

Step on a crack, break your mother's back. (My mother has had numerous back surgeries. I am a very bad daughter. Step…step…step…sorry mom.)

If a black cat crosses your path you will have bad luck (Ahem don’t you mean an ORANGE cat. Okay I am still bitter. “Where is my ring bad orange kitty?”)

I come by superstitions honestly. My grandfather is superstitious. He believes that if he makes it through the month of February he will go on to live another year. If I was him I would have this superstition as well. As far as I know most of the people in his immediate family kicked-the-bucket during the month of February. That being said this is also a head scratcher at the same time, because most of people in his family also lived to be what I would deem as old. (90 or so) My gramps is 70 something, so I figure he has at least 15 to 20 years left. The whole family breathes a sigh of relief on March 1st, and we feel that are worry free for another 11 months. Isn’t a terrible he has the whole family believing that his “time” will be in the month of February? Talk about an uber-superstition.

The good news about superstitions you can overcome them. I use to think Friday the 13th was a day of bad luck. That was until my daughter was born on the 13th, and now I think the 13th is a wonderful, lucky, day.

Top Ten Reasons Why I Hate my Cat.

2009-03-05T13:51:00.000-08:00

Let’s face it some people are dog loves and some are cat lovers. But people who love cats seem to be on the stranger side of the scale. I have never heard the saying, “Crazy Old Dog Lady.” Cat people have mugs, bumper stickers, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and other paraphernalia proclaiming such quotes as:

"Dogs come when they're called; cats take a message and get back to you later."
"Dogs believe they are human. Cats believe they are God."
"I got rid of my husband. The cat was allergic."
"There are many intelligent species in the universe. They are all owned by cats."

I could go on and on, but you get my point. A dog lover worth their salt doesn’t own clothing, or mugs with sayings about our dogs. We already know that our dogs kick ass; and as a result we don’t feel the need to advertise.

If you haven’t figured it out yet- I am a dog lover! My husband was a dog lover too. We got along just fine. I thought this marriage was going to be smooth sailing. We agreed on money matters, religion, how to raise a child, and our choice of pets. The deal was sealed; down the isle we went. Dum-dum-de-duummm...

We made ourselves a home, brought a beautiful daughter into the world, David let me buy things, (That was the money matters part.), we bought a house, and then we topped it off with a sweet puppy. Those were the good times in our life.

Then as a family we met this down on his luck cat that needed our help. We decided to save his life. His name is Ringo. (His name is very fitting, and in a moment you will understand why.) (For the record I was not too wild about this cat thing, but I like saving lives.)

The Reasons I Hate My Cat:

He sheds all over my black clothes. Since we took him into our home if I want to wear black I have to get in to a large Ziplock bag, to ensure my nice black outfit doesn’t get covered with orange cat hair. Do know how hard it is to find a human size Ziplock bag? Safeway doesn’t carry them. (That is #1)

He believes my sofa corners are the perfect place to scratch. I have bought him scratching post after scratching post trying to find one to his liking. I have bought sprays that will deter him from his furniture wrecking behaviour, but he still insists that massive cat-wear-and-tear is a great look for our living room décor. (This is the 2nd reason)

During the summer when it gets warm; we like to open our sliding glass door, but we don’t like the bugs that invite themselves in, so we invested in a expensive screen door. (It was only expensive because we had to get it custom made to fit.) When our lovely shedding, furniture destroying, cat decides that he wants to soak up some sun he request to go on the patio. If we don’t open the screen door within two seconds he will use his sharp claws to open the screen door himself. (He is oh-so dexterous!) And you know what happens? He rips the netting on the screen door, because apparently the guy who made the screen door did not anticipate on cat claws as a means to open the screen. (I think this is a good third reason.)

(This one is so big that it covers 4-10!)
He stole my wedding ring that is worth thousands and thousands of dollars!

Here the tragic story:
My ring was too big to fit my finger because I had lost weight. One day it fell off of my finger, and one of the smaller diamonds came out. I decided not to get it sized just yet, because I still planned on loosing more weight. I put my rings along with the loose the diamond in a Ziplock bag. I hate not having my wedding set; it makes me feel “single. I decided to get it sized down. I went to get the rings; but the only problem was the rings were gone. After a whole bunch of swearing I went to work looking for my rings. I am not exaggerating when I say I looked for two days with only 3 hours of sleep. I was frantic.

Then I got an idea: I thought maybe the family cat had something to do with the missing rings disappearance. I concocted a plan: I took another ring similar to my wedding band, and put that ring in an ever famous Ziplock bag. Then I put the bag and its sparkly contents on the counter. I left the (BAD) kitty to his own devices and my new ring was “misplaced” in a new spot courtesy of the cat.

On the day that my wedding band went missing it was a sunny day and I had the sliding glass door open. I believe he took my expensive ring on a “trip”. Because lets face it “Hey, diamonds sparkle more in the sunshine!”

The missing ring has been missing for over one week now. My cat “Ring-Go” made my ring go out the door! I knew we should have named him Too-Lazy-To-Move, or I-Will-Not-Destroy-Your-Furniture-Or-Steal-Your-Ring.

Because of my cat I can not wear slimming black clothes, have furniture that can be featured in Better Homes and Gardens, cool down the house in the summer without bugs, or wear my wedding set which I love more than you can imagine.

I don’t think I would be so mad if my cat looked even a little sorry, but he doesn’t. He has that, “What?” look on his face. I want to assure you that I have not done anything evil to my can-mainly because I am hoping he brings the ring back. That doesn’t mean that I haven’t thought about selling him on EBay for a penny with free shipping.

I will continue to search my house. I will continue not to think about where my ring will be, but that is only because I have no idea where it would be. I offered the neighbour kids a $100 reward if they can find my ring. That about covers it! Poop- David says if I give away the cat I have to give away the dog too! Is there no justice? Wait, I know! For Christmas next year I am going to buy him a sweatshirt with a crazy cat saying on, and make him wear it! That will teach him to mess with me and my dog!

CRAZY OLD CAT MAN!