echoes from a hollow disarray

Oh 2008. You have definitely left me worse for the wear. Too many blind curves and sudden stops on shoddy breaks. Failures and disappointments. Too, too many steps in the wrong direction.

I am just oh-so-tired.

With all the shit that's been thrown at me during 2008, I'm not so sure that I'm ready to take on a new year. I don't know if I can handle being stabbed repeatedly by a fresh new year. I've become accustomed to the violent stabs from 2008 that they feel nothing more than pin pricks anymore. A fresh new year means fresh new wounds and pain and fear and doubt and and and...

I am just not ready.

I think in an attempt to feel well adjusted in this maladjusted existance I will ring in the new year with Chocolate Martinis. (Or Caramel Appletinis... whichever I can procure all the ingredients for easier.)

post-holiday wrap up...

We managed to get everything done on time for Christmas, somehow. I'm amazed that we did because we waited to wrap all the presents until...oh...about 9:30 PM on Christmas Eve. My sister and I didn't make it to bed until 3:00 AM and we were up by 7:00 because of the kids. Christmas day was nice enough. My sister bought me the Love Monkey Webkinz (yay!) and The Monkey his very own pair of slippers (he's been stealing the frilly, girly ones my mom bought me last Christmas). The kids made out like crazy. My oldest nephew especially as he wound up with some new clothes and shoes, a few accessories from The Monkey and me (belt, wallet with a chain, two wrist cuffs), a couple of XBox games, a Wii game, Guitar Hero World Tour for the Xbox, and an electric guitar! Lucky turd. :P As for the presents we gave everyone -- they were a huge hit! My mom was very happy with her eyeshadow and my sis loved her belly rings. Hooray! My dad was tickled to get a new pool cue and the kids all seemed to like their gifts as well. The Monkey got an Auburn sweatshirt from my parents and the slippers from my sister. He's been playing his gift from me for the past few days and is deliriously happy with it (World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King). I haven't tried out my new Urban Decay palette just yet but I'm planning on it this week. There's one color in particular that I'm curious about called Kiddie Pool. It's an 'ocean blue with iridescent glitter' and OH SO pretty. Pictures to follow, I'm sure. I wasn't able to obtain the limited edition Urban Decay Book of Shadows palette and I am thoroughly bummed that I didn't order it online as soon as I came across it. My sister is headed to Dallas for a week and she's going to try to find it in the Sephora stores out that way. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that she finds it but not holding my breath. [eyeroll]

We spent Christmas morning opening presents and taking pictures, etc. Then we got dressed and prettied to go to my parents' house for Christmas dinner. Dinner was fantastic, as expected. We had ham, potato salad, macaroni salad, crab salad, baked beans, green bean casserole, butter beans, sweet potatoes, and Ooey Gooey Butter Cake for dessert. Everything was absolutely delicious and I wound up stuffing myself past capacity. Ugh. That's the one really bad thing about the holidays -- too much good food that I absolutely cannot resist. :-/ But oh well. We had quite a few people this year. My cousin showed up with his very pregnant wife. My cousin is unemployed; recently discharged from the Army due to a "personality flaw" or something like that. It's so irritating that the people that seem to "need" children the least are able to have them the easiest. So my holly jolly freaking mood was a bit strained on Christmas day. Can I PUH-LEASE have ONE freaking Christmas where I do not have to deal with someone that is pregnant or has recently given birth?? Yeah, Santa, that's what I want for Christmas 2009. Or I'd like to be pregnant myself, k'thx.

My mood has taken a downward turn, unfortunately. I knew it was inevitable but I was still hoping in the back of my mind that I could maintain the higher levels I've been running on lately. Not so much. The Monkey and I are having lunch with a friend tomorrow. I'm not really looking forward to it because being around this person seems to amplify the negative feelings I have towards myself. It's not this person's fault; it's my own fscked up brain cooties. Quite frankly, just thinking about it puts me in a foul mood. Maybe it's hormones on parade... whatever it is, I just feel shitty. Fat, ugly, and useless. But what else is new? Fucking bipolar.

Bed now. Think later.

holiday baking madness 2008

Back in 2002, my sister started a Christmas baking tradition. On a whim, she bought a few of those "holiday baking" magazines/cook book things and we thumbed through them together citing which recipes were drool-worthy (almost all of them) and which ones we just had to make. That year, my sister churned out Christmas cookies like a mad woman, even though she had just given birth to my nephew David just a month earlier. I think it served as a distraction to other things that were going on at the time. At any rate, the desserts that made the cut were Fudge Puddles, Cream Cheese Sugar Cookies, Chocolate Star Gingersnaps, Chocolate Covered Cherry Cookies, Chocolate Cherry Cheesecake (OMG, to die for), Snowballs (peanut butter balls coated in white chocolate), and White Fudge and Chocolate covered pretzels. She really went all out. I made Ginger Scones that year reminiscent of my Thanksgiving visit to California.

I haven't made Ginger Scones since but I did take up the tradition of homemade Christmas cookie baking in 2006. I scoured the Internet and found the recipes that my sister had used for all the cookies she'd baked and dutifully churned out cookies all day long while somehow maintaining a holly jolly mood. I even baked about 10 dozen (no joke) of rolled sugar cookies for the kids to decorate. (Which I wound up decorating by myself because the kids never showed up.) Needless to say, the cookies were a huge hit with the family and not a single crumb went to waste.

Last year's cookie-baking-palooza wasn't nearly as involved. I decided to forego the sugar cookies because I wasn't up for rolling them out or decorating them. My niece, Deborah, spent the day at the trailer with Tony, Scott, and me and helped me bake a few dozen Fudge Puddles, Chocolate Star Gingersnaps, pecan, pumpkin, and Tollhouse chocolate chip pies. It's understandable that I wasn't really in a particularly holly jolly mood last Christmas. The thought that I should've been huge with a overbearing baby belly simply got the best of my Christmas spirit. I just didn't have it in me.

This year I went all out (again). I started baking at noon today and I am just now sitting down for the first time in about nine hours. My feet are killing me, my back hurts, I desperately need to shower and brush my teeth (which feel a little fuzzy from the bits of taste testing I did today), and I definitely need to pop a muscle relaxer and a Lortab to rid myself of the headache that is threatening to incapcitate me. Overall, though, I feel very accomplished. We have roughly eight dozen Chocolate Star Gingersnaps, six dozen Chocolate Covered Cherry Cookies, two and a half dozen of Cream Cheese Sugar Cookies, and four dozen Fudge Puddles. All baked, cooled, and placed neatly in festive tins. Michelle and I are going to finish baking probably about six dozen more Cream Cheese Sugar Cookies tomorrow. I prepared several bags of Royal Icing in various colors for the kids to use to decorate the sugar cookies. I am also planning to bake two Ooey Gooey Butter Cakes tomorrow along with some Peanut Butter cookies for my dad and regular old Chocolate Chip cookies for Tony. Michelle is going to bake her Chocolate Cherry Cheesecake and make Oreo Truffles tomorrow as well.

Despite all my aches and pains, I did have a good day. I played and sang along with Christmas music. I wore festive knee socks with my green capri sweats and a red t-shirt. And, best of all, I know that my family will go ga-ga over my hard labor when they decidedly devour my cookies en masse. May they all gain a good 15 pounds this Christmas on me!

And, just for fun, I took some pictures to commemorate my cookie-baking endeavors...


Me, as is. (Haven't showered, no makeup, hair a wreck... yikes!)


Festive feets! (I <3 my socks!)


I used an entire bottle of vanilla extract, five pounds of white sugar, two pounds of brown sugar, three pounds of butter, a pound of cream cheese, three pounds of confectioner's sugar, two jars of maraschino cherries (stems on, please), and five pounds of flour. Just to name a few...

This is what my cats were doing while I was busting my arse in the kitchen...


Jasmine


Olivia


William


Chocolate Star Gingersnaps in the making...


Chocolate Star Gingernaps getting ready for the oven...


Chocolate Star Gingersnaps all done! Don't they look yummy? They are my favorite!


Choclate Covered Cherry Cookie dough


Chocolate Covered Cherry Cookies all done! C'mon, I know you're drooling!


Fudge Puddles sans the "fudge puddle" part. (Basically a peanut butter cookie base.)


Fudge Puddles all done! They are sinfully delightful.


Michelle rolling out Cream Cheese Sugar Cookies. (She took care of the part of baking sugar cookies that I hate!)


Fun with food coloring and Royal Icing


A few of the finished Cream Cheese Sugar Cookies. (I frosted one of the stars for fun. :P)


Michelle being goofy with the Chocolate Covered Cherry cookies. (I did the cookie part, she put on the finishing touches. It was a group effort!)


My sister -- the Martha Stewart wannabe (sans the stint in jail, of course).

oh oh, the med-go-round...

Haven't I been on this horsey before???

I saw the pdoc today and I have to say, I'm not impressed. But, really, what can I do? I can't afford to find one of my own that can see me more often than once every few months (!!!) and I have to see a doc semi-regularly in order to help sway the SSA into approving my claim. (Even if not initially, then definitely eventually.)

First, the pdoc didn't have my previous records. GAH! I submitted the paperwork to the mental health center TWO MONTHS ago for them to get my records from APS. GRR! So she basically had to go off of what I told her today. Second, instead of finding out two months ago whether or not I qualify for the medication assistance program (because we are 'low income' right now) they waited until TODAY to get me to fill out the paperwork. So now I have to wait for them to determine whether or not I qualify and, because of that, the pdoc gave me the precise meds that I did not want.

For the time being, she put me back on Lithium (900mg to start) and gave me a 30 day supply of, get this, 15mg Zyprexa tablets. I DO NOT WANT TO TAKE ZYPREXA. Zyprexa is the WORST of the atypicals to cause weight gain, high cholesterol, and Type II diabetes. Even with short term usage! I'm already predisposed to ALL of these conditions because of the PCOS! Thanks, but no thanks, I think I'll just be crazy. She told me to take the Zyprexa PRN for severe manic episodes (something I don't really get) and to help me sleep. (Yeah, this crap makes you sleep like 18 hours after you take it. UGH!) Instead of providing me with something that's BETTER SUITED for a PRN medication (like Klonopin or Xanax) she gave me this wretched drug. I'd rather suck wax fruit! (Or, more realistically, go weeks only sleeping a couple of hours a night.) Then, to top that off, she gave me a HIGH starting dosage. WTF is this lady on??? So if, by some off chance, I do have to take this crap, I will most definitely be using a pill splitter and I'll divide the pill in half and then divide the half in half. No joke.

Then there's Lithium. The "tried and true" bipolar medication. If you're classic bipolar I, that is. If you've done any bit of research (which I have...endlessly) on the specific flavor of bipolar disorder that I have, you'd know that Lithium really isn't the drug of choice for mood stabilization. I did pretty well on Topamax and Abilify (if you discount the fact that my speech was noticeably slurred). I'd really like to try Lamictal because it's notorious for helping stabilize the mood along with having strong antidepressant qualities. (This would be fantastic for me considering I tend towards depression rather than mania.) And Abilify is the least evil of the atypicals and was recently FDA approved as an add-on for treatment resistant depression. But, I don't have prescription coverage and both Lamictal and Abilify run around $300 per scrip per month. So the pdoc went the cheap route with Lithium. That I can deal with -- at least short term.

Over all, I'm really just annoyed with psychopharmacology in general. Can anyone really blame me? But I started the Lithium tonight like a good little med-compliant crazy person (I still had some left over from my old prescription) and I'll go in for a levels check on January 9th. They're also going to check my thyroid and see if I need to get back on Synthroid. In the words of the pdoc "Hypothyroidism can mimic bipolar symptoms, you know." I'm so sure that of all the blood work my pdocs in the past have done, all the bloodwork I've had done with my RE, and all the bloodwork I've had done otherwise that no one has EVER caught the fact that I have hypothyroidism. When my RE put me on it earlier this year, it was because my levels were borderline low. And you know RE's -- they treat anything that's borderline because it can potentially affect fertility. Any other doctor would have dismissed my levels (and several actually did).

So that's that. I guess we'll see how things go from here. For the most part I am unimpressed, annoyed, and really just suffering from that "WTF is the point?" frame of mind.

a long December

A long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last...

December. What a month. A month that most view as joyous, exciting. A month that most long for; a month full of hope, wonderment, anticipation.

You'd think I'd be among the "most" being a December baby and all that but I look forward December with all the enthrallment of looking forward to an annual gynecological exam. A necessary evil; an unavoidable annoyance. It's not a fear of getting older; it's not the stress of the impending holidays. I think it is, more or less, the year coming to an end. Another chapter of my life closing without my permission. It's a time of reflection on the year passed and wondering what could've been had you done something just a little differently.

The smell of hospitals in winter
And the feeling that it's all a lot of oysters, but no pearls...

December grew to a new level of suck-tastic-ness last year. Being infertile makes you acutely aware of you body. It's inevitable, really. You learn your body's quirks; learn how and when to react to impending ovulation. Where most women go "Huh. I missed my period. Maybe I should take a pregnancy test?" there are those of us that research which home pregnancy tests register the lowest amounts of hCG so we can test days before our period is even due. In such, if we're fortunate enough to see two lines on one of those wretched pee sticks, we can immediately calculate where we are in our pregnancy, and thus, our expected due date. The guess work is all but completely removed. We know the exact day, perhaps even the hour, that we ovulated and thus can predict when to expect the arrival of a little bundle of joy better than any nurse or doctor on the face of this earth. This is a blessing and a curse. A blessing for those who go on to have happy, healthy, normal pregnancies and actually end up bringing home a new baby roughly 36 weeks later; a curse for those of us who only experience the joy of a new pregnancy fleetingly.

December 30, 2007. That was my due date. From the moment I saw those two glorious pink lines I began subconciously mapping out pregnancy milestones in my head. By summer, when I planned to attend my best friend's bridal shower, I would be around 15 weeks. I had visions of my west-coast buddies poking my [maybe by then] protruding tummy and giggling. I pictured myself waddling around the streets of San Francisco with a few of my good friends in tow; smiling in the sunshine of my favorite city. I saw myself in a costume on Halloween that would make my belly the center of attention. I saw myself happily helping myself to seconds at Thanksgiving dinner because I really and truly was still hungry. And then I saw myself in December. Oh glorious month of December; month of hope and happiness and anticipation! I saw myself struggling fruitlessly to bake Christmas cookies and my family chastising me for doing so. I saw myself on Christmas day hoping that I wouldn't disrupt the holiday festivities by going into labor a few days early. I even saw myself on New Year's Eve, still full of baby, wondering how much longer I'd go overdue.

It's not like I was doing any of this purposefully. I knew, long before I found out I was pregnant, that having PCOS carries with it a higher risk of miscarriage. I'd been around the infertile [online] community long enough to know that just because you got pregnant did not mean you were going to stay that way long enough to bring home a baby. However, the subconcious mind is not a rational creature. It is the part of our collective conciousness that thwarts the more rational and endlessly more predictive (and stable) concious mind. It betrays us at every turn. Our concious mind builds up these nice, safe walls of logic and certainties only to have our subconcious mind push us off the ledge of those walls with a little nudge of unwanted hope. A quiet utterance of but what if? But I've come to realize that it's all but impossible to keep my subconcious mind under wraps. Try as I may -- and believe me, I DO try -- I just can't seem to do it. It was my subconcious mind that put all these thoughts into my head thus setting me up for eventual failure.

Five weeks, two days pregnant and it was over. All those subconcious fantasies gone up in smoke in the instant the nurse returned to my ER room and muttered the words "I'm sorry. Your beta dropped." Those words left a gaping hole in my chest; in my heart. While the hole has healed a great deal in the past 19 months, it is still a hole underneath. When poked, the surface reopens revealing a fresh, unhealed wound that takes days, weeks, months to reheal. It doesn't help that I have a daily, living, breathing reminder of the hole. My niece was born a mere month before her cousin should have been born. As much as I love my sister, watching her pregnancy progress along the 'natural' course was like hearing those words over and over and over again. And now, every milestone my niece passes, I watch with mixed emotions. I watch with the pure, unadulterated joy and unconditional love of the aunt that I am. And I watch, simultaneously, with the raw emotion of a should-have-been parent; of an infertile.

I do still have some inkling of hope that, someday, I will not dread December. That the end of another year will not mean another year that we failed to get (and stay) pregnant. That one December, someday, will mean our baby's first Christmas. And if it doesn't happen I still have hope that someday, some December will not mean agonizing over what could have -- should have -- been. That someday, some December I'll find that the hole isn't so much a hole anymore.

And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass

hair styling fun...

I've been looking to change up my look a bit and discovered the fun world of waving irons (or three barrel curling irons). I tried out two (Revlon and Hot Tools Helix) before I finally found one that works wonderfully (Conair Infiniti). I tried it out today and here are the results...


Isn't my niece just adorable? She's looking and smiling at the kitty cat. :)

ride the walrus!

I've been riding a nice steady wave of mild hypomania for days. It broke briefly on my birthday during which I sobbed uncontrollably for an hour before pasting a fake smile on my face long enough for my husband, sister and family to sing me happy birthday and eat cake and icecream. I must say that it's a pleasant change from my 'norm' which tends more toward depressive states rittled with anxiety and aggression/irritibility.

I did something kinda, sorta stupid today. I went shopping. ACK! I had a nice time with my sister, though. I woke up super early (after only a few hours of sleep) and got dressed, primped and pressed for a day of shopping in Dothan. We hit up Target first (hooray for Starbucks!) and then we went to Kohl's, Walmart, Old Navy, and the mall. Honestly, as far as manic-fueled shopping sprees go, this one was pretty tame. I found some PJs on sale at Target, a car charger for my iPod for $5 bucks, and two three packs of Argyle socks for $6 bucks each at Target. I followed my sister around in Kohl's and managed to distract myself from their massive pre-Christmas everything sale (jewelry, clothes, and shoes... oh my!) by playing the hand-held game 20Q - TV Edition. In Walmart I found a pair of Happy Bunny fleece PJs but managed to talk myself out of them. In Old Navy - my infinite weakness because I love their clothes AND I have an Old Navy credit card - I managed to walk out only spending $10 on a really cute long-sleeved t-shirt. What can I say, it was on sale, and the last one they had and it just so happened to be in my size. It was totally meant to be, damnit! I was doing fabulously well controlling myself in the mall until we went into Pacific Sun. On the surface, it appears to be a skinny-girl store but their XL tops actually fit me! So, I wound up buying four v-neck long sleeved t-shirts there, too. They were only $6 bucks a piece so it really wasn't a horrible expenditure either. All in all, I spent around $55 bucks, total.

Try as I may, I have been completely unable to find a bathrobe ANYWHERE. I looked in Target, Walmart, Kohl's, JC Penney's, Old Navy, and Dillards and all I can manage to find are fleece house coats! UGH. I want a bathrobe made of terry cloth so I can throw it on right out of the shower while I'm still wet and use it as nature intended -- as a robe-shaped bath towel. My current bathrobe is falling apart and doesn't quite close around my body since I've gained about 20 pounds since Tony bought it for me. But whatever.

Shopping isn't quite finished. I didn't get any Christmas shopping done today, unfortunately. I think I'm going to buy my sister a couple of belly rings, my mom a couple of Urban Decay eyeshadows, my niece some pajamas (at her request), my nephew a DVD (The Dark Knight), my other nephew a Nirvana hoodie, The Monkey World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King and a new 60 game pass, Madison a toy or an outfit, and my dad a gift card. I'll have to consult with my sister to figure out something for my BIL. Oy.

In other news, I found a couple of my good friends from High School on Facebook yesterday! I was freaking ecstatic to finally get in touch with them after more than five years! I didn't have many friends in High School but the few that I did have were really wonderful and it's nice to be in touch with them after all these years.

Hmm. Time to go lie down and curl up under the covers. It's freaking COLD out tonight! Very windy with some rain. Not bad holiday weather for LA ('Lower Alabama'). Tomorrow is Friday (already!) and I need to buckle down and knock out my homework so I can clear my schedule for finals this coming week. Thank goodness we have a two week break after these classes! It's definitely needed.

I hope I can sleep tonight. I have a sneaking suspicion that my hypomanic 'wave' is being fueled by sleep deprivation. :-P

resolve: i want MY body back!

I look in the mirror these days and I am frightened at what stares back at me. PCOS really wreaks havoc on the body but, in truth, I know I haven't done much to stave off its effects. I have always, always been heavy. I remember being horribly self-concious as an early teen because I could easily fit into my mom's size 14 jeans. None of my friends could even dream of fitting into their mom's jeans. But, even being as overweight as I was, I always managed to carry my weight well. In fact, I've always been told that until recently.

I have horrible body image issues. They started at a very young age. I've always been quite round in my midsection, even as a young child. I remember my step-sister teasing me and calling me 'rolley polley' and 'fat back'. I don't have many memories from my childhood. Abuse, trama, yada yada. I blocked the majority of it out, I imagine, for self preservation sake. But I do have a few choice memories, most of which aren't very pleasant. One particular memory I have is of a camping trip we took in the summer of 1989. Or maybe it was 1990. I would've been 8 or 9 years old. My mom bought my sister and I matching bikini swimsuits. Hers was purple polka dots, mine was red. I distinctly remember feeling extremely awkward in my bikini. I remember thinking how inexplicably round my tummy was in comparison to my [six years older] sister's. Of course I didn't have boobs yet; another source of self-conciousness. To be honest, I was probably a [mostly] regular looking eight (or nine) year old. But I couldn't help but feel ugly; fat; different. I have been criticizing and scrutinizing my poor body ever since.

Things culminated in Junior High. Not only did I feel different, I was different. All of my friends and both of my sisters were shaped nicely with perky breasts and hour glass figures. I was cursed with broad shoulders, breasts that seemed to literally repel each other (I've never had much in the way of cleavage without some serious push-up bra action), a flabby, protruding stomach, and a double chin. I had a horrible wardrobe because of my size and shape. This was long before Plus Size was a common household term, mind you, and as a result, I bought most, if not all of my jeans from the men's section. I went through High School suffering the stigma of being overweight. I never dated; I was never asked to go to any dances. By my senior year I was somewhere around a size 20 and weighed in the 240 range.

In the years following High School I resolved to lose the weight that was holding me hostage in my own skin. I set a goal to get down to 145 pounds (my health weight for my height and bone structure) and I vowed that once the scale boasted that glorious number that I would finally be happy. It took me four years to do it but I finally did get the scale to say 145. Try as I may, I still couldn't force my brain to recognize the acheivement.



That was me at 145 pounds. A healthy, reasonable weight; wearing a clothing size FINALLY in the single digits.

I thought I was fat. Not just a little overweight or pudgy or even just a little soft and out of shape. No, I was fat and I was sure of it.

Looking in the mirror today it is abundantly clear that this was completely ludicrous; bordering on completely insane, even.

I really have no one but myself to blame for gaining every pound of weight I lost back; and then some. PCOS definitely plays a large factor. It's hard to get and stay motivated to lose weight when you put in an immense amount of effort and barely see any results. The perpetuating cycle of insulin resistance causing weight gain and making weight loss difficult but being worsened by being overweight is proof positive that Mother Nature can be a cruel, sadistic bitch. But I am determined to beat the bitch at her own game. I'm not sure how I'm going to do it, but I know that I absolutely MUST get my body back.

I will stop at nothing.

potential new family member...

Yesterday my nephew came running into the house hollering. "Auntie Lissa! Are both of your cats in here??" He seemed really panicked which made me panic and start hunting for my cats. I found Olivia but William was nowhere in sight. The Monkey and I ran outside to find a cat up in one of the trees in the back yard. Thankfully, on the way to see said kitty, we saw our Fat Boy lounging in the window so both of our cats were, indeed, accounted for. Still, we went to rescue the kitty in the tree. She attempted to climb down to The Monkey but only made it part of the way before climbing back up. The Monkey climbed the tree (hehe...monkeys...tree climbing... [giggle]) and instantly became the kitty's savior. She was friendly enough, just a little wigged out about being held. (I held the scruff of her neck to keep her calm while I was holding her and I began feeling extremely thankful that both of my cats are declawed in the front.) She smelled really good and was very clean and I assumed she wasn't an outdoor cat. She looked to be somewhere between eight months and a year old at the most. We tried to find owners but none of the neighbors claimed her. I made The Monkey bring out some cat food and we left her to her own devices since it wasn't up to us whether or not we could adopt another cat. (We live with my sister, after all.)

Later that night, The Monkey started feeling guilty about leaving her outside because it started to get really cold. We went out to grab some dinner and while we were waiting on Drive-Thru Captain D's my niece called and said my sister let the cat in the house. :-o Imagine my shock! At any rate, she spent the night in the garage with us. She helped herself to some food and has already used the litter box a few times. She's very loveable. She slept with The Monkey all night. However, she's been very bitchy to our two cats so far. Poor William can't even walk by her without getting hissed at. :-( Right now we're sort of up in the air on whether or not we're going to keep her. For one thing, she's a little on the chunky side for her size and my sister and I are both wondering if she's a soon-to-be Momma cat. I looked online for signs of cat pregnancy and the only thing I could find was protruding nipples. I compared hers to Olivia's and hers are definitely more noticeable. I don't think I can handle a pregnant cat. I had Olivia fixed LONG before she was even able to get pregnant so I've never had to worry about kittens. I think we'll hold onto her for a few days and maybe see if we can get her to a vet to find out for sure whether or not she's expecting. If she is... well, I'm not sure what we're going to do just yet. If we take her to a shelter it would definitely have to be a no kill shelter. I can't bear to leave her out on the streets, though. Especially considering how friendly and loveable she is!

So I'm really hoping she's just fat/well fed. I'm also hoping that she'll lose the 'tude quickly and stop being a bitch to my other two cats. If we do decide to keep her she'll definitely have to be fixed and declawed. No unfair fights for my other two babies! :-P For now, we're calling her Jasmine. (The name just came to me the way the names for all of my other cats have in the past.)





She is a cutie! And her eyes are a really lovely shade of green.

a few birthday pics...

All dressed up and nowhere to go.



Mmm...cake. My sister had to do the writing because I screwed it up the first time. :-P



Me holding my cake.



[sings] Happy birthday to me......



Blowing out the candles. Thank goodness we used a "2" and an "8" instead of 28 candles. Yikes!



Just bein' my goofy self. ;-)



Carefully cutting up red velvet deliciousness.



My niece enjoying her piece.



My Boo bear enjoying his piece.



My niece's friend enjoying her piece.



The half-devoured cake.

THE END.

another year gone by...

Today I'm 28. So close to 30 now it's getting scary. :-P I contemplated getting drunk tonight but I'm really not in the mood. Something about melancholy that makes getting inebriated less appealing. Le sigh.

I wish I had something insightful or interesting to say about the year past. I absolutely don't. It was another year. It was a rough year. I'm sure there will be years that will top this one in the 'rough' category, though. Still no children. I'm beginning to wonder if we'll ever be parents. I'm beginning to wonder if I even care anymore. Last year I was getting a shot in my ass for yet another failed attempt to get pregnant. The year before I was just starting my long run of visits to Birmingham and Montgomery for a chance to get pregnant. This year, we've stopped trying all together. Funny how things can change so drastically.

I just finished a small slice of red velvety goodness. I can feel myself getting fatter. Literally. Ugh. (This feeling is drastically exacerbated by the string of photos my sister took in which I look incredibly large.) Time to really buckle down and lose weight. Seriously. I really MUST get on the ball. [eyeroll]

So I had cake and icecream and forced a smile (and it actually didn't look fake) and I have new socks and all is just so with the world. Time to wash my face and curl up on the couch under two thick blankets with a warm, fuzzy kitty at my feet. Tomorrow I will be one day closer to 29. I will try not to think about my life ending one nano-second at a time.

Pictures to follow... eventually. My hair looked kinda neat today with the whole wavey look. I think I like it.

do you believe in magic?

Last year my niece's teacher introduced her class to a tradition known as "Santa's Elves". Basically, mom and dad buy a stuffed elf for their child and the elf "arrives" at the child's house shortly after Thanksgiving. The elf is then known for doing little things for the kids (like making their beds or leaving candy) and reports back to Santa on whether the child has been naughty or nice. :) The full story is here. So this year my sister decided to do the elf thing for my niece and my nephew. Earlier today, as a joke, I picked up both stuffed elves and started throwing them around. Needless to say, my niece and nephew were both upset with me. Oops. :-/ My niece was afraid that I'd chased the elves back to the North Pole and she was particularly upset. So I ran into some Naughty and Nice Hershey's Kisses in Rite Aid this afternoon and came up with a brilliant idea. I came home from the store and snuck into my niece's and nephew's rooms and placed a single "Nice" kiss on their pillows. Then I placed a single "Naughty" kiss on my pillow (and my sister's oldest son's because he keeps trying to convince the kids that the elves aren't real -- the turd). The "Nice" kisses are wrapped in silver foil and say "Nice" on the ribbon while the "Naughty" kisses are wrapped in black foil and say "Naughty" on the ribbon. [snicker] They were both tickled pink when they discovered their elves had left the kisses. It's nice to spread Christmas cheer. :)

In other news, my ear is freaking killing me. UGH. It's just about time for some drops and a nice dose of Lortab to ease my suffering. Mmm... narcotics. :-P It's also about time to experiment with my new Waver. I've decided to let my hair grow out (yet again) and I've also taking a liking to adding some "natural" curl to my hair instead of straightening it. We'll see how this thing works. So far it seems a little awkward to hold/use so it may be going back to the store.

un-be-freaking-lievable

So I woke up the day before yesterday with... dum dum dum... another blasted ear infection! That's THREE of these freaking things in as many months! Before the first one in September, I couldn't honestly tell you the last time I had an honest-to-god ear infection. Now I'm having them recurrently?! Yes, I'm slightly annoyed. I decided to go see my ENT to get the bottom of things instead of just goint to my GP to get treatment. My ENT is awesome. (And HOT to boot. [snicker]) He checked out my ear and, yes, it's infected. As it turns out, the skin of my ear canal is severely irritated (possibly eczcema) which makes it prone to itching which, in turn, makes me jab my finger in it to stop said itching, which further irritates the canal which leads to further itching and further jabbing which then leads to pain and an infection. Mystery solved! So I have yet another course of antibiotic drops and a hefty supply of Lortab at my disposal. Joy above all joys! The Monkey went with me to the appointment because his hearing has been cloudy on the one side. My ENT looked in his ears as a courtesy (only charged us for one office visit, how nice, huh?) and said that The Monkey has a "typical toddler ear infection" (otitis media) which is different from what I have (swimmer's ear/otitis externa). So my doc gave The Monkey a week's worth of antibiotics (hooray for free samples!) and me a week's worth of ear drops (again, hooray for free samples!). Prescriptions included, the visit cost us $63.00.

After a couple months of waiting patiently, I finally heard something from the SSA on my disability. Because I haven't been to my pdoc in over six weeks, they are requiring that I have a medical examination done. This includes both a physical exam and a psych eval. My physical is on the 9th and my psych eval is on the 15th. I have an appointment with my new therapist tomorrow and then I finally get to see the new pdoc about meds on the 18th. Hopefully everything works out in my favor. The Monkey and I are already pinching pennies and slowly but surely draining our savings account. :-/ Hopefully he'll be employed soon, too.

So it goes...