I Knew It!

As I was waiting for the Comcast repairman---yet again--- this morning, I came to the realization that I have been reading other people's blogs a hell of a lot more than I have been writing in my own. And while it is a good thing that I am patronizing other people's blogs, I really need to be writing here....its my outlet. It is just strange that I have noticed this today, especially as Libby has been dropping hints about needing to spend my free time writing. Sometimes I am surprised at how well she knows me....and when those times that I need someone else to remind me to do what I like and what makes me happy.

This past week I have been trying to work Job 1 at home for a few hours a week. I am supposed to be writing the newsletter but when I am at the office, I am so focused on dealing whatever the immediate crisis is that I can't seem to focus on the writing that I need to do. Mostly the crises have been focuses on getting the accounting handled here....which has been going well. And after I discovered that setting up a tv tray next to the computer (which gives me more space to spread out my materials to work on) I really like writing on my home computer. It feels less transitory. I guess that has been some of the issues I've been facing with trying to have the most minimalist computer setup ever conceived.

So what have I been reading about? Mostly about Fat Acceptance. One thing that I am continually surprised at working at UCASA is that for things or ways of thinking that I have, there are actual terms for. For the most part, when someone is basically acting like a total jerk, they are exercising their "privilege". Even though I've been told that recognizing you have privilege is a good thing, we never seem to praise people for that....just condemn them when they act on their privilege in a way that negatively affects us. There might be a term for that....I just don't know what that is yet. When it comes to Fat Acceptance....all of that "I just want to feel healthy" and "I am happy with my size and I've come to terms with how I look and I still love myself" stuff that I have been spouting for years apparently has its own political movement. Who knew? I've got alot of reading to catch up on.

Getting back to this morning. I've been having some major issues with Comcast. The cable feed digitizes alot and the internet connectivity has been awful. For Job 3 I need to have constant internet connectivity and when the internet modem keeps going down every 20 minutes and then takes 20 minutes to come back....dear debbie here can not work. The problem has been only for the past 4 months or so....but it is really annoying. A couple of months ago I had a tech come out. He clearly didn't want to be working and was convinced that nothing was wrong. For this they charged me $30. I had to call for two months to get it taken off of my bill. Last month I just paid the $30 and then this month they finally got it off of my bill. This morning the tech seemed more disposed to talk to me. It could have been that I was giving him some very specific and targeted information.

Guess what he found? That someone had tampered with the cable line to split it and it was causing the interference. He didn't want to out right say that the guy upstairs was trying to steal my cable, but he did say that it was a pretty obvious case of tampering and interference. He also said that the lady upstairs should be having problems too.....which I clarified with her this morning. She's been calling Comcast to.....and they keep trying to tell her that it is a problem with her computer. All I can say about this is.....

I knew it!!!

It only took four months and god know how many calls.
I hope that this fixes the problem.
Please, please, please.

It's Sorta Like Mixing Vodka and Gatorade

That is the only way I can describe my life at the moment..... vodka and gatorade.....which is a horrible combination. You get the feeling of being drunk coupled with being completely hydrated....which could be a good thing but your body just instinctively knows that something is wrong.

I feel super run-down, a bit high strung and yet....surprisingly healthy. Could it be the magic vitamins? I'm not sure. Could it be that the placement of the planet says that it is fall and yet it still is summer temperatures thus making everybody's natural biorhythms out of whack? Possibly. Or could it just be that I am badly badly in need of a vacation?

This is probably the most likely cause.

However, arranging for some time off is not going to be the easiest thing at this point as it would call for some major schedule pre-planning and pre-worked hours. And honestly.....working myself to death so that I can have a couple of vacation days in which I would totally crash isn't the wisest of decisions to make.

So anyone have any suggestions for mini-vacation ideas? Something hopefully that would take anywhere from 1 hour to 5 hours and make me feel like I had a vacation. There are only so many at-home face-masks and bubble baths a person can do....and I've hit my limit. Oh, and if you would like to join me on these excursions/activities....I love company.

Maybe if I can find a way to clear out my head my wit will return. *sniff sniff* I miss it so....why did it have to leave me? *sniff sniff sigh*

The 100 Things

I keep falling out of the blogging loop....but there is stuff happening. Unfortunately thinking that I should blog about something doesn't make it magically appear on the site.

A few weeks ago, Libby sent me an article about a couple in Portland who pared their life down to just 100 things in their apartment. Now, I know that I can't do that.....however I am following the lead of Libby and her husband of a goal of getting rid of 100 things instead.

So I've started a list of things that I want to get rid of. Some of these items I plan on donating, some of them I plan to sell, like my wedding dress. I have already had some success on getting rid of things. My old computer desk I donated to work. And I sold back some books.....alot of books. Getting rid of 100 books is easy, so books only count as one item on the list. But I did make Mr.3's old Arabic books a separate category. I pulled over 200 books off my shelves to get rid off (my shelves still look like a bomb went off in them). Sam Weller's took over half of what I brought (including Mr.3's Arabic books) and gave me enough money for them to buy an e-reader. Cause let's face it.....I may be trying to lessen the amount of stuff that I have, but I am always going to have a weakness for books. I got a nook from Barnes and Nobles. It arrived in the mail yesterday and I was up way way way too late playing with it. I like it alot more then I thought that I would....in fact....I could be in love.

So Obviously Not....

As an update to the PGJ situation, I have to report that there is no news. Nothing at all.
I emailed him a few days after our coffee, and I've heard nothing back.

So....he's obviously not into me.

And this pisses me off, but for probably not the reasons you are thinking. First of all, my actions on the night of the party.... I am completely ok with everything that happened. I wanted physical contact, I knew what I was doing, and I got what I wanted. The second part of all of this however, is the coffee. I gave him an "out" of the coffee date totally... and if he had said "no" to the coffee, I would have been disappointed, but I would have understood.

But we did go to coffee. And I'm pretty sure that now-after the fact- that my "really liking him" freak out session was my intuition telling me that this was a hopeless pursuit. He admitted that he was really "shit-faced" that evening, but then also made this big deal about how he didn't want to be seen as a "fuck them and chuck them" type of guy. I took this as a sign that he didn't want this to be just a one-night stand. I should have focused more on the "I was shit-faced that night" remark.

As a short aside on the "fuck them and chuck them" remark.... his terminology by the way... I had never heard the term before. This statement implies that I was actively pursued with the intent that sleeping with me and then never speaking to me again afterwards was the goal. This makes me a passive player in this situation.....and I definitely was not a passive partner in this. How dare he assume that he is the one with the power in the situation? How does he not know that that was not my intent? It wasn't....but....well....I hope that you get my point.

So I'm a bit ticked off at PGJ. I've at least in the past had the courtesy to let a one-night stand know afterwards that I didn't want to see him. Here....it's a situation that I ended up helping to ease his own feelings about being the "fuck n' chuck" type.....and then he went ahead and treated me in that manner anyhow.

Also, I'm having major troubles reconciling the fact that I feel that he's a nice guy and a hypocrite at the same time.

C'est la vie

Marcel the Shell with Shoes On

Today was a good day. An exhausting long day. But a very good day. Car is fixed and it only cost $137....and I think that I have found a mechanic for life.

So in order to celebrate, watch this.....it's so fricking cute it makes me want to scream.

MARCEL THE SHELL WITH SHOES ON from Dean Fleischer-Camp on Vimeo.

The Wonderful Things that can Happen in a Pretty Bad Day

In an effort of trying to find the silver lining in every cloud, I am going to write about all the good things that happened in my very very bad day.

As my car was threatening to overheat on the ride home from piano yesterday I went to Jiffy Lube first thing this morning. They put coolant in the car and replaced the radiator cap that wasn't seeming to hold any pressure.

Bad Thing #1: As I was driving to the accountant's house, my car started to overheat and by the time I pulled into her driveway steam was billowing out of the front. I called Jiffy Lube and they said to come back and they would re-look at it. Good Thing #1: While at the accountant's house I learned how to use the accounting software and I was the one who processed payroll and ran all of the checks! It was very exciting in an awfully nerdy way. Good Thing #2: People will get paid today because of work that I did.

Good Thing #3: My car survived the ride back to town......but Bad Thing #2: the car started to overheat within sight of the Jiffy Lube. When I pulled up steam was coming out from under the hood and starting to fill into the car itself. My eyes were watering on top of all of the sweating from having the heater on to cool the engine in a car with one working window on a 98 degree day. Bad Thing #3: the guy at Jiffy Lube telling me that I either have a very cheap repair or a very expensive repair for my car that needs to have done at a mechanic's. Good Thing #4: My boss had the name of a mechanic that she trusts. Good Thing #5: My boss also talking me down from hysterics over my car and coming to pick me up. Good Thing #6: My boss taking me to lunch on the way back to the office. Good Thing #7: My car insurance completely paid for my car to be towed from Jiffy Lube to the mechanic's. Good Thing #8: My boss was willing to drive me back to Jiffy Lube to meet the tow truck. Bad Thing #4: The sight of my poor little car on the tow truck leaking out all of the coolant that Jiffy Lube had put into it. I sorta felt like PeeWee Herman when he has that dream in PeeWee's Big Adventure when his bike is totaled....and then they are wheeling it into the operating room....and then the doctor looks at the bike, shakes his head, then pulls off his mask only to show that he is a clown and .... well watch it yourself....

Good Thing #9: My boss drove me to my medical study workout session, and took the opportunity herself to go for an afternoon swim. Bad Thing #5: Being already hot and sweaty from dealing with the car and then getting even more hot and sweaty with working out is just nasty. Good Thing #10: Boss even picked me up from the workout session and drove me home. Good Thing #11: Shower. Bad Thing #6: Angry workout knees. Bad Thing #7: Some very hot and melty turtles when I got home. Good Thing #12: A cool bath perked them both right up and Zippy stopped sneezing (allergies again).

Let's tally up shall we? I've got 12 good things pitted against the 7 very bad things that happened today. I haven't heard from the mechanic yet, so that doesn't figure on our score sheet. And I am going to wait to see how the knees are in the morning before I decide to try and ride my bike to work tomorrow. Hopefully I have built up enough leg muscle to handle the trip.

See? I'm not all doom and gloom...big meany-faces in all their doubting...

Deconstructing my latest....well...thing

A friend of mine decided to set me up with a friend of his. I figured 'why the hell not' and met the guy at a party at his house two weeks ago. We talked some but a party isn't really a place to have deep conversations, however it IS the place to drink lots of alcohol and end up spending the night.
So needless to say, the physical chemistry is there.

The day after the party I sent PGJ a text message telling him that I hope that his hangover got better. We texted a bit back and forth about the evils of too much alcohol the next day. Tuesday morning, I sent him a text suggesting that if he wanted to take a break from the booze, how did he feel about coffee? And then asked him to join me for coffee later in the week. I didn't hear from him for almost 2 days. In that day or so of waiting, I went spiraling down some awful overly-dramatic middle-school-girl freakout train as to whether or not he liked me. I'm embarrassed to say that it even happened. I ended the emotional situation by texting him that I was a person who was not good with uncertainty and asked him to reply to the coffee message even if the answer was no. The answer was yes, that he had gotten busy at work and hadn't gotten a chance to reply. So everything was well.....but the ghost of the freakout lingered.....

Friday at 6pm, I met PGJ for coffee. While I was hopeful that I might be able to drag out the coffee to a longer evening, it turned out to be just coffee.
About halfway through coffee and conversation, I realized that I really really liked PGJ. When I had that realization everything became harder.....I felt like my flirting was forced. By the end of the evening I could feel the pressure of my wanting to let him know that I liked him, and felt like I completely blew the whole thing by only giving a hug. I did have to initiate the hug though.

So here is the issue. Liking PGJ makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. Anytime I feel that someone else might know my true feelings, I feel vulnerable. Me and vulnerable is a horrible combination. It leads to the overuse of watching sappy movies in order to have an excuse to cry and release all these emotions. It also leads to me pulling away and becoming an ice queen. I know that all this is due to my constant need to be in control.....because as long as I am in control I get hurt less. I hate that I have this sort of baggage. Before Mr.3 I could be as naive and trusting as anything....now I am so worried that someone is trying to hurt me. I worry that someone is trying to hurt me when I don't hear from them.....which is absolutely INSANE. Then again....I was controlled by Mr.3's silence for a long time.

Where does this leave me? It leaves me trying to constantly tell myself to take a chill pill. I met a wonderful man that I would like to get to know better. I met a man who I feel safe with....even in sleeping. I have never been able to sleep soundly while sharing a bed, and I did with him. I met a man that I have alot in common with......at least on the family and geek front....I've yet had the opportunity to question him on his Scifi likes.....hopefully I will get that chance soon.

I want him to be the one to ask me out next. I want the opportunity to go on a date with someone that might resemble normal. And I dearly dearly want to be able to date him without having any more of these emotional freakout lapses!

I'll let you know how it goes. If it does.

The Baby Decision and Other Momentous News

Stuff.
That is what going on, stuff.
Decisions, thoughts, and the occasional call to my mom that leaves her speechless.
That is what has been going on.....lots and lots of stuff.

I'll start with the news first. Prop 8 being ruled unconstitutional gives me much hope for my brother's future happiness. He's had more on an idea of what he wants for a wedding than I have ever had. One day, he will get that day under landscape arch.

Second on the news front. I haven't written very much on this blog of the horror what was the last 6-7 months of my employment at the MEC. Partly this is due to finding out that my former boss had printed out a page from my blog and supposedly was telling people that I was running a counterfeit id business.....and the fact that he was looking for strange and impossible means of firing me.... and he referred to me, my job, and the program it was under as an "abnormality that shouldn't have been allowed to survive". Well, for all of his changes, the new directions, and new programs that he was trying to implement, it apparently wasn't what the Department of Education wanted because he lost the grant that had funded the MEC for 50 years. I also find it funny that he apparently announced to the faculty (read the article comments) that the MEC had received the grant over a full week before the news that he didn't receive the money became public. Am I surprised? Not a bit. I feel bad for the staff and students at the center who have futures in jeopardy......do I feel bad for my old boss? Not in the slightest....in fact this has reaffirmed my belief in karmic payback.

Now on to the big news.....
It has become apparent that I need to re-evaluate some of my life plans. Oftentimes when I talk about having children I normally follow it with "its in the five year plan". The thing is, it has been in the five year plan for several years now.....and I keep pushing it back. It is sorta like the contractor in the movie "the Money Pit" saying that the work will be completed in two weeks and it takes like 10 times longer than that. I keep telling myself that I need to pay off all of my student loan debt before I have a child. To pay it all off will take me 8 years. 8 years! I'll be 39! When you add that to the fact that I am almost reduced to tears whenever I am around a small child the issue because much much worse. So instead of all this addition, I am doing some subtraction.

I plan to have a child within the next two years.

Research has started and the absolute earliest conception date would be November.....gotta start prenatal vitamins, you know. And well....there is alot of things that I am going to have to figure out. Money, daycare, sperm donation, there is alot....as I said it is in the research stage.

Here is what I do know.
*I have the space- if the worst happens and my parents need to move in with me, I'll share a room with the baby, if the best happens the baby will have a room all to his own.
*Unlike my brother, I never really knew what I wanted to do for my wedding, but I've had a birth plan decided on for ages. I even have names picked out: Evelyn if it is a girl, Owen if it is a boy. In fact, as I have had dreams for years that I have given birth to twins, I even have back up names: Eleanor and Eric (thanks Jimmy for the help on the last one).
*I've always loved kids, and have always wanted to be a mother. Not having this part of my life completed has caused me much heartache.
*There are still times when I can tell my Mom something that will leave her absolutely speechless.
* And while I may not be doing this in any traditional manner...I don't need to worry about having the support system of a spouse. I have family and friends who will be there willing to hold my hand. If I had any doubts, my little brother's reaction when I told him today was enough to wash those all away.

So, at the moment, it is only a decision. A happy one. One that have given me new focus. And it is a decision that can altered or changed along with life. But it is an important decision to have made.

I Hate You

This has been a crazy week and a half of crazy weeks and a half.
I turned 31 yesterday and the week leading up to this event has been filled anxiety, anger, and depression. It isn't the getting a year older thing that is causing the problem, but more of a convergence of random other things happening. Alot of it has been focused around Mr.3 and the specter of him. And while I tell people that there will always be a small little part of me that loved him....the part that hates him gets much stronger everyday. Here's why....

I hate the fact that words like "sociopath", "abuser", and "wanted felon" have become normal words in my vocabulary.

I hate the fact that people like you are around other people in my life.

I hate the fact that I am reminded of you when I talk to other people about the people who are like you in their lives.

I hate the fact that even though I would like to be in a partnered and stable relationship with someone right now, I'm not because I don't want to start the dating process and run the risk of meeting another person like you.

I hate the fact that I don't have children yet, however, I am very grateful that I never gave birth to a child that shared your DNA.

I hate the fact that friends we had together have a hard time talking to me, because it is now awkward with the knowledge of all the bad that you did and how betrayed it made them feel.

I hate the fact that I have to work three jobs to pay my bills because I am an honorable person who wants to pay off my debt....as opposed to the weakling that you are.

I hate the fact that you continue to take advantage of people, even after they think that they finally have gotten rid of you.

I hate the fact that you are a bully.

I hate the fact that my little brother can no longer have any sort of financial right of passage because your ugly, lazy, and degenerate ass has been there before him.

I hate the fact that you are incapable of having your own life and therefore must steal the identity of others....like my brother, or your two nephews, or your brother....and the list goes on..

I hate the fact that out of all the sad birthday stories that I share with people, that I can't share the story about the birthday you ruined because it is the only one I can't find a joke to tell about it.

I hate the fact that their aren't adequate words in the English language to describe what true scum you are.

I hate the fact that even though I try to put you behind me and move on....you somehow still manage to resurface in some way and remind me that I really truly do hate you.

A Case of Mistaken Identity?

It kinda annoys me that you can send a message to someone on Facebook if they aren't your friend. Today I got a message from someone that I have never heard from or seen before. This is what the message said:

It is quite a nice pleasure meeting you,i looked at your picture and i was caught by beauty of your eyes,that really told me the calmness of your heart which i consider as the real beauty in a woman,that is the beauty of the heart.i would wish to know more about you and may be we get more closer,my name is xxxxx.I live in Jacksonville,Florida.Have a lovely day as i hope to hear from you.

Oh....what a lovely message. He was caught by the beauty of my eyes and the calmness of my heart.
There are several reasons why I think that his gentleman might be confused. One, I have never been to Jacksonville Florida. Two, I do look at grammar and punctuation in people that I choose to date or flirt online with. And three, and perhaps the best reasoning for his message to be a case of mistaken identity.... this has been my profile picture for over a month now.
I think that it screams calmness and beauty, don't you?

Lessons Learned and Thank You's

Tomorrow I have my follow-up post-op with the surgeon about how I'm healing after gallbladder surgery. My belly button incision site still hasn't healed up, I've also managed to get a heat rash around my belly button at the same time.....but I think that the healing process has gone quite well. I was able to roll over without pain on Thursday, my stamina has increased, and I think that I will be able to return to running within the next week or so. I thought that this would also be as good as a time as any to go over some of the things that I have learned since being sick.

1. I am fairly confident in saying that my gallbladder hasn't been working properly for at least a year before the surgery. Eating without pain can never be underestimated....and if that means I need to take digestive pills with every meal for a while (or even for the rest of my life) it is totally worth it in order to be able to have a meal and feel fulfilled.

2. I miss pants. As the incision sites are on my waistline I haven't been able to wear pants for a couple of weeks now. Normally I am fine with skirts...but I also normally wear shorts underneath. As I can't deal with shorts at the moment, I have had to deal with sweaty thighs, and the worry of a sudden wind gust showing the world my undies. I wore a skirt the other day that sat on my waist...the combination of the sensitivity of the site and the hotness of the day created the current rash issue.

3. I've always known that I had an excellent support system, but seeing it in action is awe inspiring. Knowing that people care is one thing....having them prove it to you in a time of need is quite another. I have some oddly worded thank you's that I need to give.
To the GV fairies: Coming home from the hospital to see the flowers you sent reduced me to tears, thank you.
Linda: You have done so much for me over the years and I don't know if I will ever be able to truly tell you how much it has meant to me.
Ewa: Thank you for showing me that laughter is truly the best healer.
Agustina: Thank you for gelatto and dealing with my narcotic forgetfulness.
Jimmy: Thank you for keeping me company, getting me candy in my time of need, and holding my hand in the car during the aggressive driving session.
Dad: Thank you for braving hospital waiting rooms and the boredom that they provide in ample amounts.
Libby: Thank you for nagging me into making a doctor's appointment in the first place.
Karen and Kelly: Thank you for flowers and chocolate and for being EXTREMELY understanding for when I became horribly nauseous at lunch.
Alana: Thank you for making sure that even when bed ridden that someone was taking care of me, and for making me lay down at work when I needed to but wouldn't admit it.
And most importantly, thank you Mom for helping potty train me a second time, for yelling at the nurses when they needed it, for taking care of my every need for two and a half weeks, and for giggling with me in the multiple hospital rooms we visited.

4. Being this sick and out of commission for so long has been incredibly hard. Having to allow someone to take care of me, having to admit that I needed help, was so very deeply humbling. If the universe is trying to tell me anything, it is trying to tell me that I need to have patience with myself. Which is a difficult lesson for someone who is their own worst critic. I haven't had patience in giving myself the time and means to heal. Even though I have made strides in taking time for myself, I've also been shown that I haven't given myself enough time....there is so much more to do.

5. I am not really sure that I have a point five....but ending a list on 4. doesn't feel right for some reason. I guess I can say that I might have gotten over the need to hide the "embarassing" items in the shopping cart. We should all be proud that we are being proactive enough to take care of our own health....even if it means learning to buy yeast infection treatments, enemas, anti-gas pills, and laxative suppositories without shame.

For Those of You Who Were Brave Enough to Read My Last Post

I would like to announce that the crisis has been handled.

I used the suppository this morning, which worked, but I might be permanently traumatized by the whole experience. The size and girth...oh dear. But happily my boss is also at home to potty discussions, and that has helped me immensely.

And I just managed a small BM at work that didn't kill me or anything. Whoohoo!

When the Dr Says to Take Stool Softeners, Take the Damn Softeners

I am just going to warn you up front, this might be a "Too Much Information" post for many people....but for those that talk to me everyday, you already know WWAAAYYY too well that I have no issues at all discussing my bowel movements, or lack of them.

After the surgery I was prescribed stool softeners because apparently the gross amount of narcotics that I have been taking have a tendency to constipate you. I took it the first day home, had a bowel movement and figured that since the thought of taking "stool softeners" made me feel like an octogenarian, I quit taking them.

I was oh, so very very wrong.

So I've become "constipated". Last night I tried a couple of times and only was able to produce small pellets. And it isn't that I don't need to go.....oh I do! It's all backing up....it is just....well....stuck. Literally.
Went back for day two at work and had Indian food for lunch. Predictably had to use the bathroom after and was in there for a half hour, because things were stuck---half-in, half-out. My boss even came into the bathroom to check on me thinking that I had fallen/collapsed/or something. From there I went home, and for the next hour and a half was in various bouts of agony as my system really really really wanted to go...and I was completely unable too.

I even went to the grocery store to purchase an...ahem...enema kit. Unlike the guy I teased about buying it a couple of weeks ago, I made no attempt at trying to mask my purchase. Got home, discovered that I am unable to get into the "preferred application postures" because of my stitches. When I finally was able to attempt something similar to the preferred application, my system wasn't able to take even a quarter of the liquid. There followed another agonizing half hour with little progress.

Got online and started researching other solutions, went back to the grocery store and purchased suppositories....yes, you read that right. When I got home however my system decided it was going to try again regardless of my exhaustion. Progress was made, but I think that what happened felt very close to what child birth must be like. And of course, it got stuck....and I had to (warning- highly gross!) had to take toilet paper and well.....pull. I wasn't able to get it all out, and I haven't tried the suppositories yet because I am so exhausted I can hardly stand...or sit. I am hoping to be back to normal soon, but I seriously fear the pain that might be ahead of me in this process.

So folks...the lesson for today is, when the doctor says to take the stool softeners, take the damn stool softeners!!

And yes, I have been taking the stool softeners religiously for the past few days.

In other news, I have new health insurance, and I am not sure how it will cope with the medical bills that are coming. I know that I have a $500 deductible that I will be paying soon....but I have my fingers crossed that the rest of the $27,000 gallbladder fun will be covered.

And my Mom left for Arizona today. She's been nursing me for two weeks now, and while I am glad that no one else had to witness today's "labor pains" I miss her terribly and have broken down into tears several times. Thanks Mom!!!

The Gallbladder Saga

Yes, folks....the story of my gallbladder and its recent demise is an epic tale...definitely worthy of the title "saga". Let me thrill you with stories of various narcotic substances, angry nurses, a whole lot of lame daytime television, and of course...no saga could be complete without copious amounts of pus in unexpected places.

The beginning.
I have never had decent digestion. Just a fact of life. If I eat a fatty meal I will have gas pains that resemble a heart attack. On May 18th (yes, this has been happening for more than a month) I had a wonderful (and yet highly fatty meal) with a friend. The next day I was to go to a council on foreign relations meeting in which I would face my abusive ex-boss. My stomach was a wreck and I was convinced that I had had food poisoning and a panic attack at the same time. It took several days of a semi-liquid diet for my system to calm down and I would be able to eat normally. This happened several times over the course of the month. After roller derby on Sunday June 13th, I had had a regrettably high fat meal.....and from there on I was in agony. Except this time the pain could be localized to just under my right breast. I had been thinking that that was were my stomach was, but after looking it up on the internet I realized that the pain was somewhere behind my liver.

I was to go into the doctors on Monday morning for a blood test for something which I had thought was unrelated...and I managed to get ahold of the doctor before I went in to have her look at me and make sure that the blood tests taken would also look at my liver and pancreatic function. My bilirubin tested very high (which measures the amount of bile stuck in your system). She recommended that I have an unltrasound (scheduled for the next morning) and prescribed Loratab. The Loratab worked, a little, but I mainly had a Loratab hangover in addition to the gallbladder pains on Tuesday. Went back into the doctor on Wednesday as the ultrasound was positive for gallstones. I was advised that I needed a CT Scan (Thursday) and to schedule a consult with a surgeon to remove my gallbladder (scheduled for 2 weeks from now). The only problem with this system, is that I knew that I would not be able to survive the pain for that long. I felt pretty ignored by my doctor at this point.....but then again, she doesn't know me personally....she doesn't know that I only go to the doctor when I have a serious serious problem. And it was only when I got to the point of hysterics and threatened to just go the emergency room instead did I feel that they took me seriously. Well....sort of seriously...as they told me to be patient and prescribed stronger pain meds for me.

Dependence
If you know me, you know that I am stubbornly independent. And even though I had lots of friends and well wishers who were willing to help me out, I couldn't let myself really ask for help. When I managed to get home on Wednesday, I realized that I needed help. I shouldn't have been driving....and I haven't since then. I also didn't want people to see me.....because when I wasn't at the doctor's I was bedridden with the pain. My parents drove up on Thursday, and Jimmy and his friends took me to get my CT scan. Friday I couldn't take it anymore and went to the emergency room. Pretty much since then I have been dependent on my family or a variety of nurses to help me with the most menial of tasks. It has been incredibly humbling....but I am also very grateful that these amazing people in my life were willing to help me when I needed it.

Narcotics
When I got into the emergency room they gave me morphine. Now I am not sure how a normal person would want to take these drugs recreationally just because when they gave me morphine I felt normal for the first time in two weeks. That's how much pain I was in....morphine made me feel like my average everyday self. I'm currently on Percocet now that I am back from the hospital....so I have a low level of strung out-ness going on. But morphine was my drug of choice over the weekend. I am not sure if I want to know how he knows, but my brother told me the street value of some of the narcotics I currently have in my medicine cabinet. It is a little tempting.....but I will probably flush the leftovers.

Dirty, Dirty, Dirty
Before they managed to find a bed for me on Friday night in the hospital, I had to take a variety of blood and urine tests. My urine was the color of maple syrup....or as the ER nurse said when she thought that I was out of hearing range "dirty, dirty, dirty". For some reason the third "dirty" really irks me. Two "dirty"s I can understand, but three? Geez. The only good thing that has come from my strangely colored urine is that fact that I was finally taken seriously as to being sick. While I was in the hospital they gave me antibiotics through my IV, and this morning I took my last pill of it. Of course, antibiotics just ravage your system and I think that I have a full body case of thrush....so that has required another set of pills.

Reverse Potty Training
The nurses had to measure my pee. They had this thing they called "the hat" which was like a measuring cup that covered up half of the toilet bowl. Everytime I peed I had to leave it there until a nurse could note it in my chart and dump it. After my procedures all of my bodily functions became of importance....a nurse would say hello and then ask if I had farted yet this morning. After a while you revert back to being 3 and proudly come out of the bathroom announcing that you peed in the potty like a good girl. I was probably a bit too excited about my first bowel movement in over a week.

Nothing Happens on a Holiday Weekend
I talked with surgeons and nurses and doctors over the weekend, but they just kept me doped up and scheduled procedures for Monday and Tuesday. On Monday I had an ERCP, which stands for Endoscopic retrograde cholangiopancreatography. Basically what they had to do was stick a tube down my throat into my stomach and then into my small intestine. From there they go through the pancreas to the common bile duct between the gall bladder and the liver. Then this little basket thing comes out and they grab out all of the gallstones that are impacted. The doctor was expecting to find one stone, instead he found many....and alot of pus. You could tell that he was really worried about not only the amount of stones but the infection that they were trapping inside....guess whose antibiotics got doubled after that?

General Anesthesia- Double Take
After finding the pus in my bile duct, there was no question about having my gallbladder removed, which happened Tuesday morning. The surgical nurse came in just before 7am and told me that they were going to come and get me for surgery at 10am. Which meant that I had time for a short visit from Libby and a shower, right? Nope. For once they came early and I was rushed to the OR by 8am. The surgery was a success but I would never ever recommend that someone go under general anesthesia twice within a 24-hour period. As the nurses are trying to wake you up they are yelling in your ear, telling you to breathe deeper, etc....and then they seem to forget that you are there and start talking about their personal lives. The hospital folks kept telling me that gallbladder surgery was an outpatient deal.....they must be fucking crazy. I could not have done that on an out-patient basis. Granted I was more than ready to go home on Wednesday, but pain-wise I could have been in the hospital easily for another day.

The Giving of the Name
Jokingly before I found out how sick I really was, I decided to name my gallbladder and associated stones after my ex-boss and his minions. This was mainly due to the fact that I would like to say that he was thrown away in the hazardous materials wastebasket. The more I learned about this though, the naming seemed to have more meaning. One of the doctors told me that I should have been systematically sicker than the symptoms I was showing. He thought that I was really resilient...and just as that whole situation at the MEC folded out....I showed great resiliency in dealing with something that was making me emotionally and physically ill as well.

Scars
I look like I've been beaten up. My arms are all red and spotty from the eight gazillion times they had to take my blood pressure. I have a beautiful bruise that looks like a Rorschach diagram on my arm from where we accidentally tugged on the IV. And of course the healing scars from the laproscopic surgery. I have four holes in my abdomen. I've taken the dressing off of one, but the three on my waist are still there. I'm a little scared about the one on my belly button.....it freaks me out that they put a camera through there. The other issue with recovery is that I had no idea how much I use my abdominal muscles on a regular basis. I can get in and out of chairs fairly decently due to the huge increase of leg muscle that I have acquired since running.....leaning back or down is enough to paralyze me in pain.

Each day I am getting a little better. I would like to start up my normal routine on Monday, but I am not sure if I will be able to do that. The hardest part of this process is to find the patience in myself to allow me to heal.

Aisle of the Embarassing Medical Items

We've all had to do it. We've all had to buy something embarrassing at the grocery store. The tampons for the girlfriend..... condoms and a pregnancy test....and don't get me started on the horror of having to buy yeast infection medication.

The problem of having to buy the embarrassing things is that we have to do it when we are having an emergency of sorts, so we aren't able to hide the embarrassing things with the rest of the groceries. But we still try to hide the items by adding in other things to cover it up. I once knew someone who bought a yeast infection kit and those pills for when you get a bladder infection...and tried to mask the purchase with a bag of oranges.

Of course, there is a stealth operation that we go through in order to purchase these things. And to be honest, the self-serve checkouts at the store are only worth going through when you have the embarrassing items. Today I needed something to help aliviate the horrific gas pains that I have been having after almost every single meal for two weeks now. (I am still recovering from the food poisoning incident and hope that one day things will return to normal) For some reason, I find the search for anti-gas meds to be slightly embarrassing....but this might also be because I won't just grab something off the shelf, I have to read the labels of things and then hem-and-haw over if I should pay 20 cents more or not for something. As I went to the aisle today, a man had gone down just before me and was looking at the same general area. He had the embarrassed shopper look to him, so I pretended to look for something else in another aisle and then came back a few seconds later. As he passed me going out of the aisle I saw him desperately trying to shield with this arm the double pack box of enemas that he was purchasing.

What do you buy to mask the double pack box of enemas? Toilet paper? Juice? Chewing gum?
I have no idea. I masked my gas-x purchase with a box of Excedrin and....wait for it......toothpaste. But what is this guy going to do?

Incidentally, as I was looking for photos of a double pack enema box I learned that you can purchase travel enemas......hee hee hee....just imagine the conversation with the airport security screeners....we might have to watch out.....we had the underwear bomber, next it will be the Quick Flush Travel Enema bomber. Hee hee hee

Ok, I'm gonna go away now and giggle with my bad ass 15-year-old-boy juvenile self....hee hee....
Oh! I said ass! Hee ha ha ha heee heee.....ouch the gas pains make it hee hee hee hard to laugh hee hee hee.....oww....

Crap, I Need an Intervention!

I just saw a video of myself walking from a couple weeks ago when I was in Chile. And I could make the excuse of the fact that I was tired.....but....

I was doing the fat person waddle.

Yes, it was a total waddle. I even had the posture that my belly was leading me...like some strange fleshy version of a dowsing stick.

This
Is
Bad.

If you see me doing the waddle anymore, I invite you to punch me in the arm. Ugh....waddle, waddle, waddle....that is going to haunt me.

Ok, I am going to suck in my stomach when I sit, when I walk. I am going to be hyper vigilant about this. Doing the waddle means that I have given up, and I HAVE NOT GIVEN UP!!

Goddamn it.....
Stupid, fucking waddle...

Return of the Turtles and Free Coffee

Scooter made it through the surgery and has been quite peppy.....but not peppy in the way that he was in trying to constantly mount Zippy. He is oddly calmer...which makes me wonder if he also had a lobotomy. He's eating and drinking well. He pooed at the vet's office but not yet at home. I think that he is probably waiting for his bath tomorrow to do that. The poo has to go past the stitches so he bled a little....but that has been it. No anger what-so-ever from him.

Zippy on the other hand is pissed at me. But that is because she had to endure being awake for her beak trim and nail clippings at the vet, while Scooter was knocked out from the surgery when they did his. She's been hiding her face all week. I sort of miss the underbite/overgrown beak she had. It made her look like she had pouty lip. Without it she does look much younger though. Too bad dropping ten years isn't that quick, easy, and cheap for humans.

This week marked another return.... Libby and I went to Two Creeks this evening, and the same guy who bought me a coffee last Fall, bought our coffees this evening as well. I expect that he probably does this sort of thing often and has probably forgotten that he has bought me coffee before. I am not sure that Libby thinks the same though.

But I was gracious and went up to him to thank him. He seemed shocked that I remembered his name and he said that I wasn't supposed to know who bought the coffee. Really? He was the only other person in the place when we were there and he had just ordered his coffee right before. I don't know if he is interested in me or not, but he did make an awkward glance at my ring finger and its current nakedness. We'll see how that goes....

This has been a crazy week (I've been sick with some god-awful stomach thing) and I have alot to blog about....which I hope to be able to get around to this weekend. Topics will hopefully include information about a grandparent scam and of the victorious facing of my abusive ex-boss.

Losing the Turtle 'Man Bits'

Occasionally everyone's pets will do strange and unexplained things.

One thing that both of my turtles will do -maybe once a year- is they will arch up and some internal organ will come out of their tail. In an odd way it looks like stretching and the organ will always go back inside. Of course, the first time I saw this happen I thought that my turtle was dying....now 15 years later, you just realize that it is something that happens.

Yesterday morning when I got to get the turtles for their bath, Scooter had an organ protruding out of his tail. It was dirty and covered with litter from the tank. He didn't seem stressed, but then again, I wasn't sure how long they had been out. I got him in the bath quickly. I expected him to do this tail swishy thing to clean it off in the water and for it to go back in.

But it didn't.

After they had soaked up as much water as they could in the bath. I took Scooter out to look closer at what was going on. I managed to gently pull off some of the poo and litter that was still stuck. I quickly ran a fresh bath for him again. At this point, I was starting to lose it.

I called the vet and trying not to sound too hysterical explained that I had a turtle with a prolapsed organ. They told me to bring him down immediately. So I prepared a box, let the two turtles say a quick goodbye, got a little head snuggle from Scooter, put some KY jelly on the organ to keep it moist, called my brother in hysterics, and we were off in the car.

Now, both the turtles are old. Average box turtle lifespan is 20 years: Zippy is roughly between 25-30 years old, Scooter is 20-25. Jimmy and I have both thought that the first one of the two to pass would be Scooter and we both have predicted that it might be within this year. Of course, I also envisioned him passing in his sleep, not with an organ stuck outside of his body making him ill.

When we finally got to the vet we learned that the organ stuck outside of Scooter's body was his phallus. I have no pictures, but you need to image something the size of a shelled walnut protruding out of the tail of a 3 inch turtle. Poor guy was really stressed from the car ride, and of me crying, that when the vet was examining him he threw-up the water he had drunk from the bath. I must say that it was impressive....as projectile vomiting always is. It was like someone had turned on a water fountain....the stream went two feet.

The vet is going to have to amputate his "man bits". Which was supposed to have been done yesterday but they haven't called me to tell me that everything is ok. I've already made arrangements to pick him up on Monday. And took the opportunity to make an appointment for Zippy to get his nails and beak trimmed. It needs to be done and I think that it would help the both of them to travel back from the vet together. All of my spare funds are marked aside for Jimmy's tuition, but luckily, Jimmy was willing to take one less class this semester so I could afford to pay for Scooter's surgery

Zippy was more distressed yesterday than Scooter. After a bath, I normally let the turtles run around the house....and Zippy didn't want to come out of his shell yesterday. I expected him to react like that though. Years and years ago when Scooter managed to slip under the backyard fence and was missing for a day and a half, this was how Zip reacted. This morning, I've been watching him search the house for Scoot. Its heartbreaking to watch. He was in the bathroom for a while investigating....and then he has walked all over the house, visiting Scooter's favorite places to hide to check for him. They communicate by using a series of soft clicking noises and head bobs. When they do it, you can see their neck bellowing out. And Zippy will walk for a few feet, stop, and then call out for a while....and then start the process again. He's even gone over to an area that he avoids but Scooter loves (he always catches himself on the rug there and needs to be rescued each time) to find him.

So now I am just waiting to hear word. I've left a message at the vet's office...but until then it is just me working around the house and dealing with accusatory looks from Zippy. Damn I wish I spoke turtle, that would make this easier.

Things that I Have Learned While in Chile

1. When asking for bill at a restaurant, resist the urge to say "la quinta"....cause that is a hotel chain and not the "la quanta" you want.
2. Salida means exit. This is important to note as I was confused when I thought the metro station's name was Salida, and then it was the name on the wall at the next station, and then the station after that, and then on the station after that, and then....I finally figured it out.
3. That even though I should expect it by now - I am still surprised by how quickly a web server can be crushed by bloggers at a blogging conference. It has been very frustrating trying to get online....but then again, there are these strange and wonderful moments when the hotel internet works- like now. Everyone must be out drinking and not blogging at the moment.
4. I unfortunately have learned the majority of my spanish from goofy spanglish fast food chain ads from the US (probably Taco Bell). That being said, I was still ecstatic when I figured out that I could order a grilled cheese sandwich...queso caliende
5. Apparently, even when not using it, international roaming sucks all the juice out of your phone.
6. I'm not as bad at remembering names as I thought that I was.....however, I am definitely still as bad at flirting as I remember.
7. I sat next to a women on the plane to Atlanta who had been to Santiago. She said that it looked like Salt Lake.....I would like to know what she was smoking so that I can avoid it.
8. The problem of me continually losing my GV stickers can be fixed by immediately putting them onto my laptop.
9. Chileans are infinitely more patient with foreigners who can't speak Spanish than Americans are of anyone who can't speak English. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to everyone that I have smiled and pantomimed with....with an extra special shout out to the shop owner who tried to teach me how to count.
10. The original "old school" blogging still happens! I know this because in order to preserve battery power on my computer I originally wrote this post on paper.....how's that for kicking it old skool style?!

The I Totally Didn't Forget to Post About This Edition

Hi Folks! I have kept meaning to write about running the 5K in the SLC Marathon for a while now....but I really have no excuse for the delay.

The most important thing is that I finished it. In one hour and one minute. I had to walk for almost two miles before I felt like my muscles would let me run. And when I did run it was for a block at a time, if that. I was hoping to be able to make the full final stretch running, but about 20 feet from the finish line I discovered that I couldn't breathe anymore. Scared the shit out of me. I've been out of breath before, but this was different....I couldn't get any air at all. I was told that I over did it....which could be true.

So now, the training continues---albeit disrupted by the trip to Chile. Next 5K is scheduled for June 5th at Pride.

I'm that big that I'm invisible

It would be ridiculous to say that at my weight that I have never experienced sizism before. In fact it happens alot, and in the majority of instances I brush it off or avoid situations where I know that I will face it. This is one reason why I don't like to go to gyms. I had a membership to 24 hour fitness years ago. When I would go in, I would get these horrible, appalled looks from people. Sorta like I had just vomited all over them...and I would get these looks just from walking into the place....forget even getting to the point where I was sweating. It seriously felt like I was in a middle school locker room. So I would come in later and later to work out in order to avoid looks from people. Oddly enough, I wasn't the only large person working out at 11pm there....but seriously....who wants to work out at 11pm? I got rid of my membership. I honestly think that there is this idea in thinner people's heads that a fat person must lose a certain amount of weight in order to frequent a gym. Really, people? I swear...the logic.

Let's move forward to last night. Libby and I went to go pick up our numbers for the 5k this Saturday....and I am so excited!!! I'm 20611 in case you are wondering. After we picked up our stuff we walked around some of the vendor booths that they had. We stopped at one that had athletic support tape, its pretty cool stuff called Kineso...most people will recognize it as the strange tape designs seen on Olympic athletes. Anyway, as I have been grappling with how to support my running injury I was interested in this stuff. Now, it was me that picked up the box and me that was asking questions about it. The salesman however wouldn't look at me, he just looked at Libby while he talked. At first, I thought that it was just that he liked Libby--which I wouldn't blame him for---but when I was paying for $20 worth of tape, he still would not look at me. Total perception filter moment for those Doctor Who fans out there. Even when we walked in, the Cricket mobile people offered Libby a free bag which she turned down....I would have taken it, but I wasn't offered. On the way out of there, a gentleman was passing out race guides for Utah which listed all the sporting events in the state. He was shoving them in everybody's face except me. I actually had to ask for one, and he was surprised that I wanted one.

It was a very crazy situation, and I hadn't experienced that much sizism at one time before. I really felt that people were trying to actively avoid looking or speaking with me. This is going to sound vain, but I am not bad to look at. I would even say that I am pretty. And if this avoidance was some sort of way to avoid the issue that I am fat, like a misguided way of trying not to point it out, it had the exact opposite effect. I once was on a third date with someone, and it was shortly after Mr.3 left and I wasn't exactly ready to date and was taking it way way slow. On the date we talked for hours about my friend's art (even after this experience I will gladly call him my friend still). He was showing me this art book with dancers and explaining to me how he admired the musculature. When I pointed out the differences in how the wrist movement we were talking about would differ in view between my arm and his....he noted it, but then made this really strange circuitous conversation in which he tried to talk about fat, but avoided actually saying the word "fat". It was at that moment that I realized that even though we had been talking about his art for two hours, he had just realized that he was in the room with a fat person. Ooohh... scary. Frightening even. (wow, I wish that there was a sarcasm font right now) I think that this is just the same situation that I experienced last night.

Sorry folks if my fat bothers you. You are going to have to deal with it.
I entered the race. And while I may not run the whole thing, I am still in it. You are going to have to share the road with me.
I am going to support myself in this endeavor and others who are trying to accomplish the same task in this event. You should be able to support me....and my fat....as well.

The Sexiness of Legwarmers

The SLC Marathon 5K that I signed up for is this weekend. And while I have been consistantly training for weeks.....I haven't been able to get past running for more than 2 minutes a time. So I've basically gone from a total of 3 minutes of running per session to something like 10 minutes on a good day.

That's the key phrase here....on a good day.

The strain of trying to compel my mass of 270 pounds to move has taken a toll on my leg muscles. Resulting in some serious cramping/burning thing on the outside of my leg near the ankle. I guess that it is some type of shin split. In any case it has put a major hold on training progress. Yesterday it was so bad that we had to stop walking/running so I could massage my legs....it was paralyzing pain. Today I actually went home early from work because my grumpiness at still being in pain was nearing a point where I was going to earn the label of "office bitch".

Of course, today it dawns on me...that no matter how much I am hydrated or ice or heat or how much I stretch before and after, I am still not treating this injury right. Normally when I fall I have a treatment protocol for my ankles, etc. I guess that since I haven't fallen I haven't totally registered that I need to fricking wrap my ankles to stabilize them. Oh! It feels so wonderful! I've also been trying to keep the leg muscles that have been cramping warm beyond the heating pad. Which means that I have whipped out the legwarmers.

I sorta look like I am doing a bird big costume here...but it feels good. Hopefully with a couple more days of ankle stabilization I will be able to run more than walk at the 5K this weekend.

Decompressing 40 Hours of Training

My head is starting to come back a bit into shape after coming home from a weeklong 40-hour training for work. For the record, I am now a state certified sexual assault victim advocate....as to whether or not I decide to volunteer time to get some field experience is another matter.

The training was great, and I am really really really trying hard not to vomit up everything I learned on everyone I talk to...I really am....but it is soo hard. I think that most people would feel the same way after 40 hours of rape content. I sorta feel like I am a walking statistic dispenser.

For instance, women spend a huge amount of time thinking and taking precautions in order not to be attacked and raped by a stranger. But stranger rape is only 8% or so of all rapes committed, the other 92% is conducted by someone the victim knows. Basically people fear the scary man jumping out at you from behind a bush, but no one really worries about "creepy uncle bob". I was really happy to see a recent security system commercial where the man breaking into a woman's house was her ex-boyfriend and not some random opportunistic stranger.

Alot of the training focused on rape culture and how media/tv/advertisements exploit women and show a false reality of what masculinity is. There was also sessions on deconstructing various rape myths, diversity, LGBTQ communities, elderly victims, and the disabled (as a side note---and coming from someone who has recently developed a killer crush on a colleague who is in a wheelchair--have you been watching the storyline on Private Practice? Kudos to bringing up the subject of sexuality and people with disabilities!)

And of course, this training was conducted in small town Richfield Utah. It was really hard not to be too negative with the locals. I did make hairspray jokes on my Twitter account....and if I see one more of those bump hair things...ugh! I don't really want to attribute this to a small town mentality...but people were constantly answering their phones and talking on them while in the class. They couldn't be polite and take the call outside.....oh no, we all had to hear about so-and-so's kid being sick....or writing down someone's fax number. It wasn't just once, but several times a day that this happened.

The best part of the small-town-ness was in the last hour of training when the coordinator for the rape advocates in the area was handing out the intake forms for victims. In the forms you have to label exactly what type of sexual activity took place....which I don't mind.....what I do mind is when the trainer who has been working for years with victims let slip that she wasn't exactly sure what "fellatio" on the form referred to. Thankfully, someone else told her. Then someone else in the classroom announced that fellatio is not something you learn about in a small town.

Really?

Please, tell me another one!

3 Minutes!!!

Had my first night of training tonight. Got to break in the super fast running shoes. And guess what?

I RAN FOR A TOTAL OF THREE MINUTES!!!!

And to make matters even better, I did it WITHOUT PUKING!!!!!

Of course, after the excessive use of capital letters, I will very somberly tell you some things that I have learned with this evening's exercise.

Item 1: They recommend that people my size walk rather than run as it cuts down on joint pain and the effects of gravity. Good running shoes = no joint pain. Hooray for me.
Item 2: As we were running I felt like I was getting a stitch in my side....except it wasn't in my side but towards my lower back. It was only after the third 1-minute run that I realized what the pain really was. It was the force of gravity of my butt check dropping down with each step. First of all, I had no idea that my butt check moved that much, and secondly.....I've always seen my butt as one immovable object- not two distinct halves where one side might be heavier than the other. I wonder if this means I have a lopsided butt. This might involve several hours in front of the mirror to verify.
Item 3: I need alot more training sessions before I would be able to run the required amount to be a Dr. Who companion. They seem to be running away from alot of things....I'd be a goner.
Item 4: After my body recovered....and I was positive that I wasn't going to hurl (I was worried for a few moments).... the endorphins kicked in. Oh yeah.....those were nice. I can see why people do this. Of course it must be an aftereffect thing, cause I didn't feel very good while running.
Item 5: I apparently am under the impression that if you are skinny you can run at least a mile. The more I tell people about what I am trying to do, the more I hear of thinner people saying that they can't. I get angry at people who think that fat people are automatically out of shape all the time, I never thought that I had any sort of fitness/thinness bias....but I guess I do.

Tomorrow will tell the full effects of tonight's endeavors. However, I wasn't in as bad of shape as I thought as I managed to be able to run and talk with Libby at the same time.....and most importantly.......

I RAN FOR THREE FRICKING MINUTES!!!!!
WHOOHOOO!!!!!!

Phew! Now......to bed!

My Latest Harebrained Scheme

Not that I have many harebrained schemes....but I should. Besides, saying that I have schemes that are on the reckless and silly level high enough to be classified as "harebrained" sounds cool...like I'm some wacky comic character that people read about and shake their heads in wonder trying to guess what that 'crazy, wacky girl' is up too....yuck, yuck, yuck...

Anyway, the scheme. Yes...focus, focus ....

I have two lifelong fitness goals. Lifelong because it will take me forever to get to that point, and because I would prefer to say that one day I will get them done but not be tied down to an actual completion date. These two goals are to run a mile and to do a pull-up. For a girl my size, I would say that these are quite realistic and reasonable goals. Cause let's face it...I'm never going to lost 150 pounds, and I have never pretended that it would ever happen anyway.

Here is where we get to the harebrained part.....I am going to train to run a mile. And I hope to be able to run that mile (without side stitches or hurling) at the SLC marathon on April 17th. And no, I am not doing the marathon, but I AM going to sign up for the 5k. I figure if all else fails I'll run the mile and then crawl the rest of the way, on the sidewalk, so no one trips over me.

So I've got a training schedule, a training buddy....and as of about two hours ago, some decent running shoes.

I have to do this now, so that I can justify the price I paid for the shoes. Oh course, I didn't buy the shoes because of the price. I was a good girl and got a foot-test-thingy done and was fitted with for the right size and only chose the shoes after I found some that felt right. It was only at the register did I ask how much they were. My dad has a saying "if you have to ask how much it is, you can't afford it".....which has been some of the best financial advice I've ever had. It was nice to know that I didn't need to ask....thank you new job.

Anyway, I now have some spanky-new-shoes that are green and yellow with built in gel inserts. So even if I am outrun by a granny in a walker...at least I'll look fast.

The Doorjam or "Geez Karma, I get it alright!"

This post begins with a victory dance. It ends with one as well.....like a rollercoaster it ends where it began.

So, the good news is that the recent grant that I assumed dictatorship over is completed, submitted online and at the post office. A week and a half ago we had a meeting about this grant, and when I said that it would be finished the day before it was due...the group laughed. But they did like the idea that we could have a day to have those "oh shit! did we remember" moments. Apparently- at least with this grant- having someone take over (so to speak) was a plus because it allowed everyone to talk about how much they support the grant and not really have much to do with actually completing it. And while I was annoyed at the lack of help, I do get to keep the glory of submitting it on time/early to myself.

After leaving the post office today I decided to award myself with lunch....and to make matters even more impressive....with my only fast food lunch in at least a month. Feeling good, I head to Arby's, get a great parking spot, and shut the door to.... to....well nowhere. The car door wouldn't shut. This has happened once before while visiting the Comcast office and luckily Ryan was nearby to save me as I didn't have anything decent enough to MacGyver myself out of the problem with. Since I knew what the problem was, I wasn't too upset....however, between my hands and my keys, I wasn't strong enough to get the thing to shift. When it happened the first time, I told myself that I would get some tools for the car....which of course, I never did.

I really hate feeling like a helpless girl and I also miss having someone else to handle the "guy" sorts of things that need to be done in my life.

This situation called for action!

So I drove four blocks to the auto supply store desperately trying to hold my driver's side door closed.

Just so you know, centrifugal force wants your door to fly open whenever you take a turn. That also goes for when you have to swerve quickly to avoid the giant SUV that attempts to run you over as it forces its way out of a driveway. If I had the use of both my hands I would have honked, but keeping the door closed was more of a priority.

Thank you to the guy at Checker auto parts who fixed the door for me, showed me where the screwdrivers were in the store, and who helped me find which turn signal replacement lights that I needed to buy. The light thing is yet another car related item that I have been putting off for a while....and figuring out how to get the bulb out in my car will be another great adventure to look forward to.

After that I went back to Arby's, got some lunch, and returned to the office for a victory dance.

My Dead Sexy Song List

Alright, so this is totally random and frivolous bit of blogging (of course, there are some who would believe that all blogging fits into that category). I recently went on a Pink Floyd kick and have found that there are a couple songs that I can only describe as dead sexy. So I decided to compile my top ten list of songs that I would classify under this category.

I should probably offer an explanation of what would qualify. These are not seduction songs, nor are they songs that you listen to obsess over someone that you are infatuated with. There must be the right balance of bass/drums and or guitar. For a song to qualify it must relax the body and make you feel sensual....not sensual in the "let's get in on" way but like when a breeze brushes gently across your skin and all of your nerves become electrified. Also these songs are taken separately from the album that they are taken from. I will admit that there are albums that would fit into this category: the Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd, just about any Massive Attack album, the Yeah Yeah Yeah's Fever to Tell, and even though I have issues with the book and movie, the soundtrack to Twilight totally fits this category.

So, now I present to you my top-ten list:

10. Pretty When You Cry by VAST- Although I just watched the video for this one, and it wins points for total creepy factor.
9. Painted on my Heart by The Cult
8. Angel by Gavin Friday
7. Follow You Down by Alejandro Escovedo (sorry, couldn't find a link)
6. Guarded By Monkeys by Cracker
5. It's Late by Queen
4. Gulumse Kaderine by Tarkan---but it has to be the Murat Matthew Erdem Remix
3. Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd
2. Win by David Bowie

and the number one is....

1. Keskin Bicak by Sezan Aksu

Sezen Aksu - Keskin Bicak


Wanna share your list?

Bill of Rights

I have a book that I write down all of the inspirational things that I have read/come across in my life. I haven't cracked it open for a while, but I did today. This is what I wrote in it:

BILL OF RIGHTS
I have the right to be me.
I have the right to put myself first.
I have the right to be safe.
I have the right to love and be loved.
I have the right to be treated with respect.
I have the right to be human - NOT PERFECT.
I have the right to be angry and protest if I am treated unfairly or abusively by anyone.
I have the right to my own privacy.
I have the right to my own opinions, to express them, and to be taken seriously.
I have the right to earn and control my own money.
I have the right to ask questions about anything that affects my life.
I have the right to make decisions that affect me.
I have the right to grow and change (and that includes changing my mind).
I have the right to say NO.
I have the right to make mistakes.
I have the right NOT to be responsible for other adults’ problems.
I have the right not to be liked by everyone.
I HAVE THE RIGHT TO CONTROL MY OWN LIFE AND TO CHANGE IT IF I AM NOT HAPPY WITH IT AS IT IS.

And while this doesn't nessacarily pertain to the bill of rights, I do have the right to post a photo of my new haircut on the blog.

Showing you the wheels

In my last post I mentioned the "Power and Control Wheel" and the "Equality Wheel", I'm posting them here so you can see more of what I was talking about.

This is the situation(s) you DO NOT WANT in a relationship:


And this is what an IDEAL relationship should be like:

The Empowering Work Epiphany that I was NOT expecting

I've been at the new job for a month now and I still love it. Not sure what I am doing half the time, but I feel useful and I am learning new things everyday.

We did a tabling event at the state capital today. I'm used to doing tables when I worked at the center, and I love the interaction with people....but before I was much more knowledgeable about the subject matter than I am now at the new job. I held my own, but there was one question that I had no clue what to answer. Some guy wanted to know if there were any other criminal activites that were precursors to someone sexually assaulting another person.....sorta like how killing small animals is a precursor to killing people. I had no clue...but if you are interested, I found out. Its burglary.

Anyway, part of today was bonding with co-workers who I don't see in the office very often. Somehow or other we got on the topic of my ex-husband aka Mike aka Scott aka Mr.3. I ended up telling her the extended version of the saga. I always find it hard to find the right words to describe what happened. I try not to call him a con man because I have always felt that it really diminishes the effect that it had on me. I've called the relationship psychologically abusive before, but always felt not quite right in calling it that either.... most the time I just try to remind people that I am not stupid, I'm really not. You just had to be living the whole experience to truly understand. My co-worker's reaction was not something that I expected. I expected her to roll her eyes at times...to question my motives, my reason, like so many other people have had in the past. Instead she handed me this worksheet that is used with domestic and sexual violence victims called the power and control wheel. The object is to read the descriptions of abusive acts and circle the items that have happened to you. It is supposed to give a visual of your abuse. The wheel has eight spokes with topics like using intimidation, using emotional abuse, using isolation, using economic abuse, etc. On the other side of page is the equality wheel, that is supposed to mark the signs of a healthy relationship. Not only is there not one item in the healthy relationship wheel that I can attribute to my former marriage, but I have a lot of items that can be circled in at least 7 of the 8 spokes.

After looking at that the realization hit.
I am not some poor smuck who got taken by some con man. I was abused by my husband.
I've always been able to identify with being a survivor. I mean...I did managed to survive the relationship. But I never really wanted to call myself a victim, because that is kinda lame....but I need to accept that I am.

I am a victim of domestic violence.

Writing that sentence just make me break out into tears. Needless to say I wasn't expecting to have this sort of emotional whirlwind on Thursday.

But this isn't a sad story about me crying about my life....it is more of an empowering one. I am really grateful to this co-worker, more than I will probably be able to express to her. She was understanding....she was the first person who I have told the story too (who had not known and lived the saga with me when it was happening) to accept it, and not question my actions. In past dates when I have talked about my ex-husband I've gotten the "well why didn't you see that coming?" line.....which has generally marked the end of dating with that person. According to my co-worker, that is called "victim-blaming". She also said that it was wonderful that I had started working where I had and that I was learning what had happened to me because now when I talk to people about it, it can be a teaching experience instead. I'm good with teaching.

So that is my work epiphany. I could write more, but to say that this has been a long and hard day is an understatement. And for my friends who feel that I don't write anything positive on my blog anymore......I will write soon about some light-hearted things....like how I cut my hair super super short and how I am going to be a non-skating official for roller derby (I get a derby name and everything!!! Granny Panties in the house!), so you can all look forward to more of that sort of frivolity in my life.

And now....to bed!

Changing from the "we" to "them"

Saturday I volunteered for an event being held by my old job. Prior to that day I was having a hard time in not referring to myself like I still worked at the center. I used "we" alot, not "they" or "them"....and I think that after my experiences on Saturday it will be alot easier to use the right pronoun.

For instance, I originally had planned on picking up the speaker and taking them out to dinner on Friday night. The weekend before, I was sent an email and told that it wasn't necessary for me to pick up the speaker from the airport. Which was fine, saved me time. But I still wanted to meet her for dinner. And there began the back and forth between me and the center staff member assigned to work the event. I could detail it all, but let's say that I was invited to dinner (and when I offered to pay for myself, and was turned down because a volunteer should "be treated" according to this said-former-coworker) on one day and then I was the next day uninvited to dinner. There was some valid reasonings behind this...and to make light of the situation I had mentioned that "at least I would get lunch free during the event"....at which point this said-former-coworker notified me that that was all I deserved anyway. After she said that, I did not renew my previous offer to pay for my dinner. Please keep in mind that said-former-coworker in the past has demanded when she has volunteered that she be wined and dined, and has never had any problems in pointing out when she has not gotten what she has felt to be her "due". Anyway... I could detail way too many instances of her hyprocracy and selfishness to count, so in moving on....

Saturday morning said-former-coworker was also supposed to announce that I was no longer working for the center and that I was volunteering my services on that day. This is what she actually said "I have an announcement, Debbie Dilley is now at the Utah Coalition Against Sexual Assault. If you would like to apply for her job, you can contact the University of Utah's Human Resources Department."

I was mortified.
It was entirely inappropriate.
But in her defense this was not the first nor will it be the last time that she has said something inappropriate.

When said-former-coworker left my old position and was on a volunteer basis, my old boss raved about her when she made the announcement that she was leaving. But that was the difference between the two...my old boss knew how to treat people and annoucements. And even through all of said-former-coworkers attempts to emulate by old boss, she has fallen totally flat on her face.

I felt ill-treated to say the least.

The rest of the day I hung out with my band of troublemakers in the back....there was lots of joking about me being "just a volunteer". So when arrangements went bad- and there was a major hiccup with the catering- I --for once-- could not be blamed, I was "just a volunteer".

I came to another realization about this particular person....I would be perfectly alright if I never had to see her again. In the past people have criticized me for being too harsh on her, and how I react to the various things that she has done. I credit her with deliberately trying to get me into hot water at my old job. What she did spurred on the attempt by my former director to write me up. I've been told that feeling this way with only circumstantial evidence of her actions is "unprofessional"....but after listening to her on Saturday tell me about how she tried to get other coworkers into trouble because she felt that they weren't doing their jobs correctly...or how she is actively trying to get the job of another coworker.....I can't but help to feel that my assumptions about said-former-coworker to be absolutely and totally correct.

I know that all of the "said-former-worker" stuff is a little annoying....but I don't need to name this person. What I do need to say to her is the following:

Thank you.
If you hadn't been yourself and tried to make yourself look better at my expense, I wouldn't have gotten the drive to really leave the center. Your actions coupled with the actions of my former director made me realize that there is no loyalty to a workplace that is as toxic as my old one was.

And thank you for your entirely inappropriate way of saying that I had left. You made me realize that my former workplace, has no respect for me or for what I did there. You have firmly planted your legs in support of the new regime and you have shown me that there was never any way that we could be respectful to the other outside of the workplace or inside of it. You have made it all that much easier to finally say goodbye.

Video Dispelling Myths on Weight Stigmas

Here is an interesting (and extremely well done) video from the Yale Rudd Center for Food Policy and Obesity.


As a "big girl" myself, the type of bullying that is portrayed in this video was something I luckily only experienced between moving to Utah in fourth grade through my seventh grade year in middle school. I had to develop a thick skin and an ability to make better jokes at my own expense then those teasing me to make the abuse stop. If I hadn't been able to do that....I might not have made it to today.

I've never really written about the bullying I experienced when I moved here. It was bad. I called "lard butt" when I was 9 years old. I had no idea what lard was, but I knew it was bad. In 7th grade there were these kids who called me "shamu" and "beluga whale" in my 7th period math class....and they would taunt me literally all through my walk home. The only reprieve that I would have would be the last half block on the street where I lived. If it was a good day I was able to stop crying and calm down enough so that my mom wouldn't notice when I walked in. These names hurt, but I got over it.

I never really turned the name calling on the people who hurt me....and I should have. After all, they were 8th graders in the same math class as a 7th grader. And they also were not in my 8th grade math class....they had to repeat it, again. Ahh, karma.