Fear Factor

Ok I'm here to complain, something I do quite well if I do say so myself. I have been sick for six days, and my only souvenir from going to the doctor for advice is a pin cushion of an arm that is sure to turn a lovely shade of yellowish brown by morning. Why is getting blood work such a big ordeal for me? Those shy veins of mine get me every time. I even warned the lady that my veins are tiny and that I get worked up when people talk to me about how difficult it is to draw my blood. I believe my exact words were, "Please don't talk to me." Well, that fell on deaf ears. She took 10 minutes pinching and examining both arms. Then she stuck one arm, complained about what a slow draw it was, pulled the needle out, and waved the half filled vial in my face, saying in an accusatory manner, saying "Well! This just won't be enough!" Meanwhile, I'm trying feverishly to stop my legs from shaking so that the entire bed will stop rattling. Three needle sticks later, she finally gets what she needs out of me. My husband, who has been hiding on the other side of the curtain for fearing of passing out at the sight of my blood, finally pokes his head in nervously to see if the ordeal is over. Some help he is. He too has a intense fear of getting blood taken. What a pair. If I felt weak from not eating for days walking in there, I felt much worse walking out! On the positive side, this virus has done wonders for my figure.

Hoping things look up tomorrow!

Priorities

My first thought when I woke up today was not about school or work or personal safety out on the roads.  It was "Oh crap, will they cancel the dance class?"  I've looked forward to it for days, and I had to get there!  Neither our walkways nor the roads in our apartment complex have been plowed, so skating to my car was the only option.  The parking lot was literally sheets of layered ice.  But I was called by a greater force to pick, jab, carve, and scrape until my car was unearthed from its icy lair.  I thought I might die as I slid around the road trying to get out of the neighborhood, but I assured myself that the risk was well worth the reward.  Arriving at the gym to see a full parking lot was like a beacon of white light amidst this gray, monstrous weather. All the other shopping center parking lots were nearly empty, but no, not the gym.  Oh no, we will persevere! We will get those rock hard abs, come hell or . . . icy weather?  I'm an idiot. (but the dance class was awesome)

I know the minute I get into the shower, the cable guy will finally arrive.  Isn't that how it works?  You give up waiting, move on with your day, and then there he is at the door, and well, there you are, dressed in your birthday best.  Oh well. 

My new workout buddy

If you couldn't prove me wrong by pointing out the obvious that John Kerry is in Denver, I'd start a rumor that he was kickin it at the gym next to me today. And, in my rumor, he'd be wearing shoooort shorts.  I seriously did a double take when I saw this guy. Boo, I never get to see anyone famous. Well, actually, I saw Hillary Clinton on K Street last year while I was on the bus to work. She looked to be barking orders at two men beside her. Shocking.

Speaking of senators, and on a serious note, please take a minute to check out The Whole Child Initiative to support increased recruitment and retention of school-based mental health staff, particularly in low-income areas where the need is the greatest.  I wholeheartedly believe that the support provided by school counselors, school psychologists, and social workers is critical to the academic achievement of all students.  Please consider sending a quick email to your representatives and senators in support of this initiative.  It'll only take a minute :) 

How About Those Ravens?

For some reason we talk about births a lot in this house.  (Don't get all riled up now--I'm not pregnant.) But we talk about deliveries a lot, the different kinds, the most painful, grossest, easiest to heal from, etc.  I generally get an unpleasant feeling just thinking about it.  Gee, these conversations are probably a form of birth control in of themselves.  

Anyway, the other night we were wondering what water births are like. It's supposed to be less traumatic for the baby and less painful for the mother as well.  Sounds a little too perfect.  So of course I look for things wrong with it. I really wanted to know how the deliverer (midwife, doctor, second cousin, whoever) knows what's going on down there if the woman's lower half is submerged in water.  And I hear the room is supposed to be pretty dark too. Pug said they feel with their hands to make sure everything's all right and squared away for the little guy to swim on out of there and then they guide it out. No need to see what's happening. Really? I asked if they dunk underwater to take a peek for good measure while performing the delivery.  You know, just to be sure all is going according to plan, and he said it's not like they suit up in snorkeling gear for the occasion.  So then we got off on a tangent about snorkeling. And that was the end of that.  

Forget kids, now I want to go on vacation.

PETA Wouldn't Like Me

I think I just got a birthday tick bite.  I just found a tick scurrying up my arm and now I'm frantically looking for his friends, who hopefully haven't joined him in his greed for a little O+ blood.  Yuck, yuck, yuck.  But we had fun burning him with matches.  Should have thought to check myself for them earlier after prancing through the woods at noon.  

Ugh, I really don't want to get Lyme Disease.  Again.  When I was fourteen I got bit real good right on my butt, of all places.  Not a fun spot to get a huge red welt because you can't help but sit/lie upon it all the livelong day.  Tee hee. I just remember riding the rides at Dorney Park in agony.  Poor me.  

Oh, thanks for the birthday messages!!!!

S'more What?

I'm on a walking team at work--we're doing a 10,000 step challenge against 100 other teams in my company. Wanna know what we get if our team wins?  Tee-shirts. Ooooo babbby.  I WANT one!

We call ourselves team Chester Copperpot Howie Mr. Belding S'more What?  We actually submitted that name to the HR department.  It was a collaboration of sorts, as you can probably imagine.  And I'd like to think we're gonna win.  Our team is comprised of athletic people (I use the term loosely to include myself, of course).  And we're hardcore.  Anthea's kicking butt.  She took 25,000 steps one day!  How is that even possible??  That makes up for the 1,000 step day I spent walking from the couch to the kitchen to the bathroom and back.  Just kidding. I've been walking everywhere!  And wearing my pedometer at the gym of course.  I took the trash out 4 times one day just to add steps. I'm a maniac---I'll do anything.  Wish me luck!  

Success!

I finally worked up the nerve to join the hip hop class at the gym this morning, and it was sooooo much fun! I've been thinking about joining for two months but felt too shy.  All was good except I still can't do the shoulder shake thing, Tep. All those lessons in our old office, and I still didn't learn. Boo. But I'm proud of myself for going!  These hips don't lie. 

Clare's bridal shower this weekend yay yay yay!  Hope you're ready for a crazy fun night!!!

Returning to the Womb?

My mammy's back from China.  Hooray.  So excited to go home tomorrow!

I had an MRI done yesterday and I was neeeeervous.  Some say it's like being shoved into a coffin. I agree.  But it wasn't all that bad.  In fact, some fleeting moments were downright pleasant.  Like the loud noises.  Most people complain about the noise, but I thought it really spiced up an otherwise snooze-worthy experience.  Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.  Like a nightclub, only you couldn't dance.  I wanted to ask for the soundtrack.  

It's the whole "I'm surrounded by this big hunkin thing and can't get out" thing that's scary.  The tech person offered me an eye mask, which I gratefully accepted.  This way, you can't see anything when they shove you in the tube with the ceiling only inches from your face.  I'm quite sure I would have lost it if I'd kept my eyes open the whole time.  Shutting them created the illusion that there was actually space between my body and the big ole magnet.  

I write this to un-scare anyone who, like me, clams up at just the thought of having an MRI. I promise, if you shut your eyes the whole time, it's much more enjoyable than you'd imagine.  I lived to tell the tale, and so, my friend, can you. 

10 Years Younger....

This morning the nurse at the doctor's office had to use a pediatric needle on me (will I never outgrow it?) to draw blood because my veins are so tiny and greedy and don't want to oblige any request. She pounded on each arm for a few minutes trying to evoke any signs of life in there and said it was easier to find veins in elderly people who are severely dehydrated than in me. Great.

Then later I was picking up food at a restaurant, and the cashier gave me this look and asked me how old I was. (why? I have no idea--wasn't buying alcohol). When I told her, she shook her head, and was like "No way. You can't be older than sixteen." Sorry to disappoint.

Anyway, this kid's ready for a super weekend! So excited to have friends come over tonight and tomorrow. Yay! Less excited to write final papers. Boo.

These past few weeks have been so, so great--I've gotten to see friends who I rarely see anymore due to distance, and it's been sooo much fun!! (but I suck at Guitar Hero). There's something about old friends who've known you forever and love you for all your crazy weirdness and you love them for theirs that makes life so much more full. Being with them is so comforting and wonderful and goofy. I'm really lucky.

Professional Advice

I stopped at Wendy's after school tonight to grab a salad. The cashier guy asked me what kind of dressing I wanted, so I said fat free honey mustard. He stopped, looked down over me across the counter, and seriously said, "No. I'm giving you the full fat one. You need it." Oh. Ok.

I'm not used to complete strangers telling me what I should and shouldn't eat. Well, actually, he went a step further than advice-giving and outwardly refused to give me what I asked for! But I had to laugh! He had a lot of nerve. I'm admittedly not a very big woman, but I'm not withering away by any means either, so what the heck? Regardless, none of random man-behind-the-counter's business! Geez.

Anyway, I feel so lucky because I have the most beautiful tree right outside my window that's bright orange and red, and I stare at it all day when I do work. It's the nicest one in the whole development (I verified), and it's tucked back behind the building for only a few of us lucky ones to enjoy. It's pretty and makes me so happy.

Kimmy's wedding this weekend! Yay!

The Next Steffi Graf

Pug and I having started playing tennis, and I'm really good. Just not in a traditional sort of way. My form and technique are what you could call unpredictably unique. I tried really hard anyway. Luckily I sometimes have a very high tolerance for putting myself in embarrasing situations--and tonight was no exception. Ugh, first of all, my shorts were WAY too short and riding up the entire time (ouch, big mistake there, never again), so yea, not pretty for anyone except maybe my husband who maybe found it cute because it added humor to the rest of the situation, and second, I was flailing all over the place, fly-swating style, literally twisting in circles, trying to anticipate where the heck the ball was going so I could make contact. Which happened twice I think, only one of which went over the net. (ok, I might be exaggerating a bit). We were those people, who kept smacking the ball into everyone else's court the whole time. But we had fun so who cares? Last time we played tennis was on our honeymoon, and these mongoose were running amuck through the court--a little unsettling honestly.

If you have any tips on how to perfect my already pretty tight game, please send them my way. :)

(and just to clarify, because I have to, that's NOT me in the picture--but you get the short shorts delimma I was having)

Getting in Shape (or not)

I'm having a love affair with my new abs ball. It's great! So convenient with built in handles for gripping during exercise. It even came with a free workout dvd, complete with a real babe in spandex as the instructor. When he says I'm going to get rock-hard abs in six weeks, well I believe him. (If he said I would become a millionaire overnight and that I should quit my job and drink Mai Thais all day at the pool for the rest of my life, well I'd probably believe that too.) He's just so confident and convincing. Only problem is, you're spose to do cardio in addition to doing the abs dvd three times a week. And that's just too much. Does walking to work count? I log a good three-quarter mile each way from the metro. Somehow, I don't think that cuts it though. Boo, flabby belly it is then. Well, at least until school starts next month and I stop this crazy commute (doctor told me yesterday that commuting like this over time would take YEARS off my life! Yikes). When I start working from home, I'll have NO excuse not to get off my butt and go for a run before class in the afternoons. See, having a puppy would help.

On another front, packing is really a big ole pain. Boxes everywhere. At least we're throwing a lot out and donating as much as possible, including one of our cars. Oh yea--we bought a car last weekend!! Yay! It's new and blue. And we vow to keep it clean. It has bluetooth built in, so when your phone rings in the car, you can answer it through the steering wheel and you talk to the person through the car speakers! Awesome! still need to get used to that. Of course, I am not the one who gets to drive it on a daily basis, but that's fine--my little white bubble car suits me just fine.

Blah. Today has been so boring. Our little bro turns the big 1-1 this weekend, so hopefully we'll take him out tonight for a little late night clubbing in Baltimore. Er, I mean a rousing round of ski ball at Chuckie Cheese.

You Don't Want Blood on Your Teeth

Like many people, I'm always a little on edge when I go to the doctor, like I'm going to find out that something horrible and terminal is wrong with me. Of course, I find myself at the doctor all the time, but that's another story. (Some people say I'm a bit of a hypochondriac, but I don't know what they're talking about.)

Anyway, so I went to the doctor on Friday and was pleasantly surprised to be assigned to a very friendly and caring physician. She was about half my size, super sweet, and very motherly (which was a breath of fresh air after my scary encounter with another doctor earlier this year who insisted up and down that I was pregnant and forced me to get a blood test to prove it [without examining me first] because I came in complaining about a bout of dizziness following a very recent stomach virus. And, as I assured her repeatedly, it turns out that I was not, for the record, pregnant.) Anyway, so after seeing the doctor on Friday, she sent me over to get x-rays. The x-ray technician was also amazingly friendly and warm (We had a delightful bonding experience over our mutual love of flip flops). Although, while I was lying on the x-ray table, she complimented my flat stomach, which I found pretty amusing given the circumstances. I told her thank you, but that A) I was lying down, and B) I was holding in my breath as she'd instructed, so of course my stomach looked flat! I was flattered, nonetheless. (You can tell I'm not used to people in medical settings being very friendly toward me). But I'm getting side-tracked.

This seemingly pointless and boring recollection of events at the doctor is leading up to the final part, which is sadly only slightly more interesting.....So at this point I'm thinking my experience at the doctor's office was in fact one of the best yet, but when I step up to the pharmacy, my good mood quickly dissipates. The pharmacist herself hands me my prescription pills, saying, "Now you must take this with food." Yea, yea, I think--I always take them with a little food anyway. Sensing this, she continues, "Because you really don't want blood on your teeth."
"Excuse me?" I respond, flustered, for obvious reasons.
"Well, if you don't take it with food, you'll definitely get a nasty stomach ulcer, which will cause lots of blood to go up your throat and into your mouth. And you really don't want any blood on your teeth, because that's just nasty."
Yes, now the queasiness (hypochondria, whatever you want to call it) sets in.
"WITH FOOD!" she yells again after me as I leave.
Ok lady, way to scare the crap out of me! What the heck was that? Wouldn't "Be sure to take with food" have sufficed? No need to bring my poor innocent teeth into it and leave me with a haunting mental picture of me choking on my own stomach blood for the rest of the day....GROSS! I appreciate the warning, don't get me wrong, but this woman desperately needs some sensitivity training.

So there I am Friday night, frantically stuffing my face with pretzels and chips and anything I can get my hands on before popping the prescription pill, for fear that my teeth may get bloody. Thanks a lot.

Living the American Dream

This posting is a tribute to my amazing husband, who is currently in bumble Virginia somewhere, peddling his wares to the locals.

I have to say how much I admire how openly and wholeheartly he embraces new things. He just jumps right on in. (I'm more of a toe-dipper myself.) He knew nothing about medical sales (especially OB/GYN products!) but has transitioned into his new job beautifully. And I think that's great. He can get along with just about anyone. It's his big smile, jovial personality, and warm heart that win people over I think. Ok, maybe it's the donuts he brings to the nurses, but that's neither here nor there.

Along those lines, he really wants this tee shirt that says, "I'm not a gynecologist, but I'll take a look." I actually think it's funny. I randomly saw the shirt for sale in a store in Nashville the other week, but unfortunately they didn't have it in his size.

So if any of you ladies are in need of a mobius retractor device for an impending c-secion, look no further.