Kitten a Go-Go

Three of Many Who Deserve Recognition

I have a lot of stuff.  I've been working on downsizing.  I had some on eBay.  Other things, I pulled aside.  I couldn't believe how much had never been used.  Sigh.  It was all going to Goodwill.  Then I got to thinking.  It seemed like a fine time to send some treats to a few friends who do a whole lot of good for others. 

First, there's my friend Robin.  She's been mentioned both here and on my other blogs before.  Robin is an amazing mom and one of the hardest working people you will ever meet.  One of the things she works hardest at is treading lightly on the earth.  She has been an absolute inspiration to me in my quest to become more green.  Robin has raised three amazing and beautiful children who are full of spunk and joy.  There is a package on its way for Robin (and her daughter) to celebrate Robin and everything she does. 

Next, there's Kamira.  I've also written about her.  I absolutely heart Kamira.  I have known her since my freshman year of high school and I'm so glad that our paths reconnected through the magical world of FB.  Kamira has a job in the world of higher education that leads to some of the funniest stories I have ever heard.  Kamira faces challenges with the best attitude.  I love seeing her updates and I love hearing her stories.  And, frankly, I love commenting on her rack because I love when she laughs.  Kamira, there's a little something on the way for you too.

Finally, there's Tina.  Tina manages a salon in Delaware and owns her own business in the salon.  She is a beautiful person, inside and out.  (Okay, honestly, she's a total hottie.)  Recently, I was so impressed by her salon's activism on behalf of breast cancer research.  I wish I lived closer because I would have purchased tons of lip gloss!  Tina is a woman with tons of style and she has a treat coming that will reflect that, I hope. 

Who knows, maybe I will recognize you next.  Or perhaps this will inspire you to send a random treat to someone who adds to your life.  Thank you to Robin for your constant inspiration.  Thank you to Kamira for constantly bringing me joy.  Thank you to Tina for constantly making me smile and impressing me with your business activism.  Three inspiring women.  If you don't like anything in your boxes o' treats, pass 'em on to someone who will. 

That Former Cheerio

[As I skip Track 12 to the Glee Soundtrack, Volume 1]

Boy:  Why did you skip that?
Me:  I don't like Quinn Fabray.
Boy:  Did you just say that you don't like Quinn Fabray?
Me:  Yup.
Boy:  Sigh.  Why don't you like Quinn?
Me:  Because I don't.
Boy:  That's not a reason.  Why don't you like her?
Me:  Because Rachel's a better singer.
Boy:  But Rachel's a better singer than everybody.  That's the whole point.  I'm putting that song back on because I like the Supremes.
Me:  I still don't like Quinn Fabray.
Boy:  Well, Finn's voice is no prize either. 
Me:  No, I like Puck and Archie better.  And I like them both better than Quinn Fabray. 

Read This. I didn't make an ass out of myself this time.

I participated in an interview for this article.  I think the article is great and really informative.  The writer, Winnie Yu, did a fantastic job.  I'm happy to be included.

Danielle and the Sinus Squid

Danielle was sent to the Tower.  The Sinus Squid was the enemy and it was near the Tower.  So, Danielle did not want to go to the Tower.

Danielle tried to escape.  She tried to travel elsewhere, by ship.  But there was a terrible storm.  Danielle knew that the Sinus Squid had caused the storm.  So, she asked the sailors to throw her into the sea, away from the path of the Sinus Squid.  But Danielle did not drown, because the Sinus Squid swallowed her.  Danielle kicked and kicked and the Sinus Squid Spit her out in front of Walgreen's.  Danielle purchased Sinus Squid removal mists and thanked Walgreen's for rescuing her from the Sinus Squid.  She returned to the Tower, toting decoupaged taxidermy statue of the Sinus Squid for her office.

[For WBG, creator of the Sinus Squid.]

Shortly After Watching the Hannah Montana Movie

The Boy:  I can't get that stupid hoedown song out of my head.
Me:  [surreptitiously opens iTunes and turns on Party in the U.S.A.]
The Boy:  Are you kidding me?  What's wrong with you?
Me:  I like this song.

...

[Party in the U.S.A. ends.  SexyBack starts again.]
The Boy:  Oh.  Hell. No.  I hate you.  I'm leaving. 
Me:  I'm not going to play this one.

...

[Single Ladies begins.]
The Boy:  Why?  WHY???

...

[The Climb is selected.]
The Boy:  Really?  Again.
Me:  [Smirk.  It's my theme song.]
The Boy:  I'd rather hear Beyonce.
Me:  So, you would rather hear Beyonce than Miley?
The Smaller Boy:  Why is this on again?  You are really pushing my buttons.

Medication Review: Death to Migraines

When I went to the neuro, she gave me samples of two meds to take when I have a headache. 

First, there was Treximet (ooh la la).  I took it yesterday and it worked wonders.  I love the blue pill.  I am afraid to write that I am taking a blue pill because Viagra has the corner on that market, but going forward, my blue pill is Treximet (ooh la la).  (Although Valtrex is also blue, but that pill is enormous and I can rarely take it because it makes me ill.  Damn you EBV!) 

I also received samples of Zomig, which dissolves on the tongue.  I started getting a headache this morning and I thought eating might help, so I kept my lunch date with a super lovely lady lawyer.  Food didn't help at all.  As soon as I got back to the office, all of the vision problems started.  Rather than wait for the Treximet (ooh la la) to work, I figured I'd try the Zomig.  Since it dissolves, I figured it would be fast-acting.  It acted fast, for sure.  But it made me feel worse. 

So, I drove home.  I strongly wished that I lived in an overcast sort of climate because the sun on the way home was absolutely miserable and I sort of stared at the road and not straight ahead.  Fortunately, traffic was light. 

The Zomig knocked me out.  I don't know if that is normal or not.  It a very strange nap, filled with crazy ass dreams. 

When I woke up, I still had the headache.  The light sensitivity and ringing ears have eased up, but the pain is still there.  This leads me to conclude that Zomig sucks and Treximet (ooh la la) kicks its ass.  I know which one I will be asking for the full Rx for. 

In addition, Zomig tastes like ass when it is dissolving.  Why can't they make it taste like mint or something???

I also picked up my Topomax Rx.  I hope that starts working quickly as a preventative.  I cannot stand dealing with these headaches at work. 

Regarding Elmo

The Boy:  The cat's a dickhead.
Me:  No he's not.  That's mean.
The Boy:  He's a dickhead.  He licks the inside of the receptacle that I use for oral hygiene.  That's dicky.
Me:  That doesn't make him a dickhead.
The Boy:  Yes it does.  If I did that to people, it would be dicky.  He's a dickhead.

The Case of the Mystery Migraines

Warning:  I am medicated on a big blue pill called Treximet right now.  I gather that it is a cousin of Imitrex that has some naprosyn in it.  To me, it sounds like Tresemme shampoo, so I have been singing Treximet, treximet, ooooooh la la.  It has also made me slightly loopy, probably because I slept very little last night.  Now, let us begin today's tale of woe.

As you know from last night's batshit crazy post, I have had migraines for the past couple of weeks.  I went to the neuro today and what an exciting visit!  All was going perfectly well.  It seems that there are new drugs, like Imitrex, that have been invented in the past ten years since my migraines have been under control.  She gave me some of those in sample form and I told her that my biggest concern was the sudden onset.  She said it could be the weather or some other seasonal factors and she asked what else has been going on.  (If you are friends with me on FB, this is old news, so you can skim and skip ahead.  I won't be offended.) 

I told her about The CVS Incident.  In August, I called in a refill of my ultracet Rx.  CVS gave me blood pressure medication instead.  I thought it was a different generic for the ultracet and didn't think anything of it.  Took it for a month.  Thought I was going crazy and had major issues sleeping and thought my fibro was out of control.  You may remember that from here, here, here and here.  Nope, I was taking a diuretic instead of a pain pill as part of my nighty night cocktail.  The issue was discovered when I tried to refill the medication.  It took a while for me to figure out what was going on, but CVS eventually called and said that they screwed up and oh, so sorry, but it shouldn't be a big deal because it is like being on a water pill. 

I was super pissed because I don't need a water pill.  I need a damn pain pill.  I wrote a hostile letter and they gave me a $50 gift card which I am giving away because I don't intend to go back there.  Do you know how hard that is for me?  I am obsessed with CVS.  Now, we have to break up because they made me miserable for a month and then tried to make it better with a $50 gift card.  I don't mean to sound all Lloyd Dobler "I gave her my heart.  She gave me a pen." but that's kind of where I was at the time.

Back to today.  I tell neuro about The CVS Incident and she displays the proper level of shock and disgust.  More importantly, she asked when I went off of the wrong medication.  She said that the wrong medication was very likely the trigger for this lovely cluster of headaches. 

Oh, it's just a water pill, it won't do anything.  If I wasn't well-medicated and pleased that the headache was easing due to the Treximet, Treximet, Oooooh la la, I am pretty sure I'd be writing another hateful letter.  Don't worry, it's still on the to-do list.  Fortunately, I've already switched a couple of prescriptions to Smith's, so now my grocery store can sell my medical info to the same people it sends my grocery habits to.  When the rest of the refills come up, they will also be transferred.

Yes, I did learn that I need to look up all of the generic names, but it is still CVS's job to GIVE ME THE MEDICATION THAT MY DOCTOR PRESCRIBED.  Instead of just going through the hell of last month, their screw up also led to the migraines.  So displeased.  At least I know there was a trigger and this wasn't just new migraines coming out of nowhere.  The doctor did prescribe a new preventative med called Topomax, so I will try that.  She said that should also help with the non-migraine headaches that I sometimes get at work from looking at a computer screen.  

Migraine trigger mystery solved.  Hatred of CVS increased.  So far, loving Treximet, Treximet, ooooooh la la. 

A really bad day

Over the past 8 years, my migraines have, for the most part, been under control.  I get them once in a while, but it is nothing major and I can usually take an imitrex when I notice the aura and then go to sleep. 

Last week, I got one that knocked me on my ass.  I was so nauseated that I needed to leave work early.  I got another one on Friday afternoon.  I managed to get through a meeting without throwing up on any of my colleagues, but I left shortly after that.  Honestly, I thought the two migraines were related to my lady business and would go away after that. 

Today, I got one of the worst migraines I can remember.  As bad as the ones I got in high school and college.  I was moderately convinced that I was having a stroke at one point.  My eyes wouldn't focus.  I had double vision.  I was shaking.  I was nauseated.  Of course, I started to panic and it felt like I couldn't breathe.  I was scared driving home. 

Once I got home, I made the room as dark as possible, which is virtually impossible.  Unless I wanted to hide in the toilet room in the master bath, every accessible room has a damn window.  Big ones.  Enormous windows with too much light.  And that wasn't comfortable to lay on and it's cramped for even me. 

It took forever for the vision issues to clear up.  Then the pain came.  The pain was hell.  Pure, utter hell.  Like being stabbed above my left eye.  A pain that is all too familiar, even though I haven't had to experience it for years.

I've gotten used to fibro in all of its forms.  I've gotten used to muscle pain and the feeling of walking through mud just to get upstairs.  I've gotten used to not wearing beautiful shoes because I have too much fibro pain from the heels. 

I have also gotten used to not getting migraines.  Particularly, debilitating migraines like these.  Three in a little more than a week scares the shit out of me. 

I am going to see the neuro who did my MS testing tomorrow.  I also called my beloved Dr. Garcia and it may be related to the Provigil.  Great.  The one medicine that cuts through the brain fog so that I can think clearly through the medicine haze in the morning. 

Oh, and here's a fun one - after I got the second migraine on Friday, I called my ob/gyn because I thought it was related to my lady business.  She asked if I get migraines with aura.  I said yes.  She said that they don't recommend putting women who get migraines with aura on any type of hormonal birth control.  Interesting since I was told by her to go off of the pill and to get the Mirena specifically because of my migraines.  She knew that I got migraines with aura then.  She said that there is an increased risk for stroke.  Fantastic. 

I am dealing with a lot of other stress right now and the resurgence of the migraines has shaken me.  I am really scared and I don't want to deal with this again.  Not with everything else.  I have clearly done something very bad to deserve this on a karmic scale. 

I just want to be well.  I've spent a fortune trying to get there.  I'm only 33.  I feel like a broken old lady. 

No Thank You

Dear Cooks Illustrated,

I received your November/December issue, along with an envelope advising me that it was my last issue unless I send some money.  I ripped off the advertising pages at the front to look at your typically beautiful cover illustration. 

Sadly, this month's cover, the one that you should be using to woo me, is a cracked open pomegranate.  That's right, the most offensive of all of the seedy fruits.  The fruit that started my obsessive-compulsive phobia of food with seeds. 

I was on the fence about renewing.  Mostly because I love reading your magazine, but I don't actually use it for any of the recipes or information contained therein.  I believe your insulting cover choice may have sealed the deal.  I cannot patronize you if you are going to send me scary pictures. 

It's over,
Danielle

Happy Birthday, Robin

Dear Robin, 

Happy Birthday, dear friend.  It's hard to believe that we are thirty three.  It's hard to believe that I have known you for almost 20 years.  

I often joke that you are the hippie yin to my yuppie yang, but it is tongue in cheek since you are many more things than just a hippie and I am more of a batshit scattered nut than a yuppie, but it's a nicer stereotype, I suppose.  Like many, our friendship has gone through cycles along with our lives.  I am so happy that you are a regular part of my life, even though you are two thousand miles away. 

From two girls with identical Bic Green Pen handwriting to two women with very different lives, here we are, still with eerily similar handwriting.  

I am so proud of you and everything you have accomplished.  You are an amazing mother, sister, friend, etc.  You are still one of the most gifted writers I know.  Also, a mighty fine photographer. 

When your father passed, I cannot describe the shock that ran through me.  I remember getting your update emails and I sobbed as I read them.  Even though he is no longer with us, I know how proud he would be of his daughter.  You are accomplishing so much and impacting so many people who cross your path.  The world is better for having you in it, with your advocacy, dedication, intelligence, sharp wit and keen knowledge of young adult fiction. 

Wishing you all the best on your birthday! 

Love,
Danielle

PS - non Robin readers - Robin and I are working on a special online project to give you a taste of both of our worlds.  Coming soon.  Promise...

My Transformation into an Obese Fashionless Manatee

Hypothyroidism + candida issues + stress eating = fat ass.  Welcome to my world. 

I am, and always have been, very self-conscious about my weight.  When I got a physical for high school, the doctor told me that 103 lbs. was perfect for my height and never to gain another pound.  That number has been branded into my head ever since. 

In high school, 103 lbs. was far too high.  I wanted it lower.  Whether that meant eating very little or over-exercising, I did whatever it took.  Here's a sample that I think adequately reflects me being a thin girl in high school. 

 
 

I assure you that I thought I was a cow.  With a big ass and huge thighs.  I remember that a friend was 114 lbs. and even though she was taller than me, I thought, I never want to weigh that much.  I never want to weigh more than 103, like the doctor said.

I think I gained the typical freshman fifteen when college started, and was still well within my normal weight range, but of course, I thought of myself as enormous.

When I was in my early 20s and I worked at MBNA, I weighed between 120-125.  I again thought I was a beast and felt ashamed of my weight.  Of course, I hid my horrific fat self in baggy clothes.  This pic is from 1999.

 

When I joined my first gym, I went with a girlfriend who was itty bitty.  I'll never forget when the personal trainer said I had a lot more work to do.  Of course, that meant I was FAT.  I think I weighed a little over 130 lbs. then.  That is toward the top of the recommended weight for my height.  I think this was 2000.

 

So I tried to work out as much as I could.  I remember one time, I stayed on the elliptical so long that I started to feel sick and I went to the bathroom and threw up.  Probably a good sign that it is time to get off the elliptical.  I'm not so sure that I did.  I got back down to about 125 lbs for a trip to Disney with my friends.  This is 2001. (I am the girl with the fanny pack to the right of Mary Poppins.)

 

At the time of my first wedding, I weighed about 137 lbs and was starting to look bloated.  I swore I would lose the weight and never get that heavy again.  By the time I graduated from law school, I weighed around 145 lbs.  (Officially 10 lbs. overweight.)  Suddenly, most of my photos featured only my face.  (This was right after a hair cut and clearly after I had stopped bothering with make up.  I was still working the funkier highlights because I was a mere student and not practicing yet.  I also didn't realize that my natural color was pretty.)

 

While studying for the bar, I stress ate my way up to 160 lbs.  The stress of divorce got me back down to about 145 again. 

2007 is when my health started spiraling out of control.  The weight started piling back on and I was far too exhausted and sick to exercise.  Welcome to obesity.  I can't really find any photos of myself.  Although I have a couple of shots from when we went to visit my fam. 

 

(That guy totally sucked at using my camera.)

 
(I'm eating sugar??  Shocking.)

Of course, this was the only photo I liked of myself from the trip.  Of course, it is because my hair looked so damn good from the soft water.

 

I did start working out a bit because I was getting remarried.  It didn't help much.  I was not happy with just how much of me there was in those wedding photos.  November 24, 2007. 

 
 

  

(But, DAMN, my hair looked good.  Thank you Kristin!)

Even the professional shots show more to love...

 

(Talk about my cup runneth over...)  (And if you are wondering why my make up is so perfect, that's also Kristin's work.)

Here's one from the honeymoon that I probably didn't post anywhere because of my weight.

 

About three months after the wedding, in early 2008, my thyroid issues were finally diagnosed when I went to the FFC. 

July of 2008 was the last time I saw my grandmother before she had a series of strokes and I was only able to see her again in hospice care.  I have a framed photograph of her and my grandfather on my desk from this visit.  However, it's not this photo.  Because I cringe at my own weight.  Yes, I am too vain to display this.  (Look at that arm and those chins.  Gah.)  But I cherish having this photo. 

 

My weight has been all over the map since then.  I avoid posing for many photos and most are extremely select angles, but here is one from the holidays of me with all of the Liss men.  We lost my grandmother only a few short days before.

 

And here's another from Christmas.  There was much butter involved in this little session. 

 
 (Get it?  Lobster got my tongue.  Whatever, I think I'm funny.)

My weight has continued to increase since that time.  Here is a picture from early 2009 when I had the pleasure of a reunion with some of my favorite ladies from high school. 

 

And here's one where I was caught doing things we aren't going to get into, but it really shows off my chins.

 

I don't have anything more recent and I'm sure as hell not taking one right now.  You see, I've gained another ten pounds since then.  I know that some of this is thyroid related.  But knowing that does not make it a damn bit easier.  Part of it is also my unwillingness to give up sugar, like I need to, to get the yeast completely out of my system.  I have given it up in some stuff, but I'll be the first girl to run out of my office for some deposition cookies. 

But this is mostly about food choices.  I am lazy.  So yesterday's lunch was Arby's.  If I'm already having the Bacon and Bleu Roastburger with curly fries, what does it matter if I have pink lemonade with it.  And I had a pint of ice cream while we watched tv at night.  Not good food choices. 

I got on the scale this morning and saw a number that made me want to attack the scale with a hammer.  But really, scale violence is not the answer as this is not the scale's fault. 

Tomorrow, I have to go shopping to buy clothes.  Bigger clothes because nothing I own fits right now.  I have avoided doing so because I didn't want to accept that this was actually my weight.  But right now, I have nothing that fits for court and I look like a stuffed sausage in everything else. 

Thanks for joining me on this exciting photo journey.  I wanted to illustrate for all why I say I have become an obese fashionless manatee.  Also, I needed to chronicle the past to show myself that I've never been happy with my weight, regardless of how high or how low. 

I will start making better food choices.  I will keep fighting to get my thyroid under control.  I will refrain from cheating on my anti-candida diet.  I will start exercising.  I have to.  It is time to stop complaining and to start doing more.  Maybe then I can become a slutty librarian/50s housewife again. 

But for now, I didn't pay for these giant boobs and I DON'T WANT THEM.

More Natural Sugars

I ordered this cookbook about 800 years ago.

It finally arrived.  Looks like I'll be making some new attempts at baking with agave nectar.  There are some recipes that call for honey and that isn't happening.  Nor are any recipes that call for stevia because I hate that crap.  I do want to make that pretty thing on the front cover, but I don't know if my culinary skills will ever be there.

Surprise Me, Trebek

Dear Tree-Beck,

Recently, you stated that many viewers had written in and commented that they liked the new set.  I realize it is your 26th season, but OMG, that new set is hideous.  It is like an awful abstract doctor's office print, but in a giant television set.  It was au courant in 1985.  Not now.  It looks like shit.  Please change it back. 

In addition, I do NOT approve of the new sound that it makes when the clues are coming onto the board.  I do not like change and that was completely without purpose.  Don't you have focus groups for this sort of thing??? 

Please stop wearing brown suits.  It makes the 1985 set look even more gross.

With a lot of grumbling,
Your show's biggest fan, but not your biggest fan,
Danielle

Weekend To Do List

Yesterday morning, I made an exhaustive to do list of everything that I ideally wanted to get done this weekend.  Here's what got done:

1. Fill out phone rebate paperwork
2. Find microwave manual (door is broken)
3. Find refrigerator manual (water thing is still broken)
4. Clean out drawer of manuals (so 2 & 3 won't happen again)
5. Clean out junk drawer
6. Clean out small appliance cabinets
7. Deposit at bank
8. Upload photos for a friend
9. Place all baking ingredients into pretty new labeled jars (since I have 6 kinds of flour and arrowroot to deal with now)
10. Dust downstairs
11. Pay bills
12. Massage
13. Eyebrows
14. Pedi (this was a bad idea because I really shouldn't have soaked the new tattoo)
15. Blog updates
16. Clean powder room
17. Clean cable box (if you had a greasy hairless cat, you'd understand why this is a separate task)
18. Order prints of photo of grandparents
19. Laundry
20. Find a boy to send B2's clothes to
21. Deal with stack of coupons
22. Deal with stack of old magazines
23. Get stuff off of bar so it can go upstairs
24. Get stuff from nursery
25. Put away crap on floor
26. Make sure all new shows scheduled to tape
27. Clean out purse (purse is big and is magnet for receipts)
28. Re-pot plants for work
29. Clean kitchen window and sill (another favorite perch for the cats)
30. Clean and organize stuff in laundry room
31. Switch out recycling bins in kitchen
32. Transfer money to ING
33. Clean armoire (this wouldn't be so bad if the wee petri dishes weren't nursing future hoarding disorders)
34. Create place for baking pyrex to live
35. Clean out sample drawer (all gone and now home of baking pyrex)

These are the things I didn't get done:

1. Find art receipts for recent paintings sold
2. Find art authentication certificate for print sold
3. Vacuum downstairs (hopefully I can do this tomorrow after work)
4. Clean inside of car (I did technically throw everything into the back seat, so at least someone can sit in the car comfortably).
5. See if color printer still works
6. Mop kitchen floor (I scrubbed the biggest offending areas while doing other stuff)
7. Cat baths (they'll still be dirty all week, so meh)
8. Clean our bathroom (upstairs is probably going to be next week's project.  Our sitting room is also a huge mess.)
9. Dust all blinds (moving forward to next weekend
10. Change sheets (this will happen tomorrow since Brian went to bed before I could do it)
11. Organize clothes to send to Laura D and Robin C.
12. Move boxes upstairs

In addition, I completed the following items that were not on the list:

1. Bake one batch of health almond thins (none for Kellie)
2. Bake one batch health chocolate chip cookies
3. Make health three bean salad
4. Perform an unmentionable act on cat in distress (the post traumatic stress probably contributed to why I didn't finish more stuff)
5. Grocery shopping
6. Visit sunflower for one item and spend $50
7. Purchase Brita water filter since fridge will not dispense water and I am damn sick of buying gallons of water WHEN MY FRIDGE IS SUPPOSED TO PROVIDE WATER WITHOUT WASTEFUL PACKAGING
8. Selected fall/Halloween art piece for my office.  (Trading out one Seonna Hong for another.  The drawing of the Princess of Darkness will be nice for Halloween.)
9. Spent a lot of time thinking about how much I wanted to take a nap but couldn't because a list was ruining my life
10. Sent offensive emails to Robin to cheer self up after traumatic cat incident
11. Repeatedly assured husband that he does not have swine flu
12. Got scolded for not informing massage therapist that I got a new tattoo because I did not know it counted as something he "should know about"
13. Sent mind control thoughts to Kat because I showed her mine and she hasn't shown me hers
14. Tried to figure out a way to break up with threading lady that I keep getting stuck with because she doesn't get the whole super arched 50s housewife look that I'm going for
15. Realized that it was Ramadan and ate a cookie during daylight in Nudrat's honor
16. Remembered that I don't like football and don't get what all of the fuss is about
17. Got pissed that the supermarket was so crowded - shouldn't everyone have been watching football
18. Got pissed at supermarket when I didn't have enough bags with me and they put a watermelon in a plastic bag, which then blew away in the parking lot and I chased it for a bit, much to Brian's delight, but I couldn't catch it
19. Discovered that lidocaine patches are almost as awesome as having naturally blonde hair
20. Lamented that no one makes a laser that will remove blonde hair from yeti arms through laser hair removal (although it is okay because I can't afford laser hair removal)
21. Discovered that I still can't watch any specials on 9/11 because I will cry like a baby
22. Continued designing Tiffany Liu commission in my head (Yes, there is a rainbow AND a unicorn involved)

Fibromyalgia Diaries: Health Food Porn, Installment #43

As we all know, I've been trying to make healthy sweets using agave nectar and other alternative ingredients.  [Note, all of the things that I make are "health _____," regardless of the butter content, etc.  If there is no sugar or white flour, it's health _______.]  My husband was the only one who really appreciated my health brownies.  They were dry.  Sort of like stale chocolate cake, but really dense.  Want to know how to make health brownies good?  Whipped cream.  It's no secret that I make the world's greatest homemade whipped cream.  I believe this is entirely because I use super high quality vanilla and I freeze those components for a while before whipping. 

I am happy to report that health whipped cream is just as delicious as the regular sugar based kind that I perfected ages ago.  Definitely a good addition to the health brownie.

 

Last weekend, I also made health chocolate pudding.  It involved carob powder and tofu.  It was ... vile.  We all ate the whipped cream off the top and the rest went into the disposal.  Very nasty. 

Tomorrow, I'll probably make some more cookies.  I finally found grain sweetened chocolate chip cookies, so I may try to make the chocolate chip cookies again.  They were dry last time.  That's one thing that I can say about all of the recipes.  Everything seems really dry...

Not My President

Gosh, I remember long ago how fussy people would get when the evil liberals referred to Bush as "not my president."  Now, I understand there is quite a frenzy over the evil indoctrination of our country's youth through an address by the president. 

Do you know what I've read?  Not my president.  Oh my.  Isn't that what people got in trouble for saying before with W?  Pot+kettle=black. 

Folks, I am a moderate democrat, even though in the land of conservative country, I am painted to be an uber-liberal.  I am so sick of polarizing politics.  I'm so sick of being called a socialist.  Although, amusingly, one of the Republicans at work pointed out that we have many successful socialized institutions.  Note, not one of my arguments.

Obama isn't a magician and he came into a pile of shit.  I'm sure that the other side argues that Clinton is the one who left the pile of shit. Honestly, no one is ever going to be happy. 

In the legal profession, a successful mediation is one in which no one leaves happy.  Perhaps we need to start remembering that and learning to negotiate.  Politics shouldn't be a whole lot different than the law.

Can you just imagine if you suddenly became a socialist from a presidential address? 

It's funny because I somehow formed my own opinions, some of which differ greatly from my family.  Most notably, I went through four years of Catholic school and I don't believe in God.  I didn't when I started and I was ridiculed by my teachers and told that I didn't know what I was talking about and that I would change my mind.  I should have made some bets.  Just because you have more experience in life than someone doesn't mean that they are unable to understand and form their own opinions.  You can try to create clones of yourself or you can raise children who can speak their mind and articulate their rationale.  (FYI to at least five teachers that I remember - I still don't believe in God.  I am a Buddhist and damn proud of who I have become.  I am a good person even though I don't believe the same things as you.)

Oh, but wait, I don't get a voice in this debate.  I'm not a mother.  Sorry for speaking up.  I certainly have no idea of the importance of shaping cookie cutter versions of myself and my beliefs.

Sleep Deprivation

I slept well this weekend.  Until last night.  A school night.  I tried every trick in the book.  Nighty night cocktail.  Cold room.  Leave for a change of scenery after 30 minutes or so.  Play Bookworm.  Try to sleep more.  Fail.  Eventually lay on couch with cats and hope for the best.  I fell asleep around 2 am.  Understandably, this has put me on edge today.

Then, when I was driving home, I stopped at the mailbox in the cul de sac.  At that time, my car battery died.  My yuppie panic attacks are notable and not pretty.  My yuppie panic attacks on little sleep are quite a vision.  There was nonstop cursing.  I threw a tantrum because I wanted to put on my pajamas, but I couldn't because I had to wait for various members of the AAA family to visit my home.  Fortunately, the battery is swapped, so I can calm my ass down. 

Hopefully this won't affect tonight's sleep.  I am going to start the rest of the cocktail soon.  I have court first thing in the morning, so I really hope that this is an okay night.  Please, body, cooperate.

An Orchid for You

Dear Mommom,

Today, I did something that you wouldn't approve of.  I got an orchid tattoo on my ankle in your honor.  I've always said that the tattoo on my right foot was so that I would have success on every step of life's journey.  Well, I also want you watching over me on every step.  So that's why I wanted the orchid on my left foot.  I assume that the pain felt while getting the tattoo is equivalent to the pain of you bopping me over the head for something so silly.  It was extremely painful and I was very emotional when I drove home.  I miss you. 

 

I love you,
Danielle

I Heart Kamira

I went to high school with an amazing woman, Kamira.  At that time and to this day, I have stated that if I was a black woman, I want to be Kamira.  It helps that she is about a foot taller than me and has the most amazing cleveage YOU WILL EVER SEE.  However, this is not about her bosoms or about how generally awesome that I think she is.  (Although I will quickly state that I thank FB for bringing her back into my life because I LOVE IT WHEN SHE'S AROUND.  She is one of those people that you just love.)

Today, she was reading the newspaper online and was disturbed by what she read.  She was moved to action and posted the following reply.  I am posting it here because I want to applaud her.  She stands up for what is important.  I FREQUENTLY censor myself on FB (not here, really, but I am pretty sure more people read my FB statuses) because I don't want to offend someone.  I am, in essence, a chicken shit.  Why, I don't know.  I'm surely opinionated and sassy otherwise. 

Bravo, Kamira.  I'm proud of you for putting this out there and I know it will stick with some of the pricks the comment was directed to.   

Kamira's comment:

"I am a life long *** resident, and I read the *** on line every day. Each day I am more and more disappointed with some of the residents of this county. To the person who posts as "[ASSHAT]": Yes, I am going to call you a racist. However, if I am to use the comments posted on this site as any judge, the vast majority of the county is apparently racist.

If you have not lived in someone's shoes, you cannot judge them. End of story. Let us be clear- there are communities in distress. Communities need to ban together to make positive strides for themselves, neighboring communities, their children, and all future generations. But to "pass the buck" and state that its Section 8, Welfare, or Blacks who have caused all of this is ridiculously irresponsible. These services are in place to assist those who are downtrodden. One day, you may find yourself in need! WE ALL must work together. If you are concerned about your neighborhood, be a positive part of the solution. Otherwise, you are part of the problem. Contact your local police about instituting a Neighborhood Watch. Be the person who creates a watch program on your block, to inspire the next block to do the same. Go out and clean your sidewalk. Take pride in your surroundings. AND STOP JUDGING. You do not know the things that are going on in people's lives.

Some people are quick to blame Blacks, Latinos, or other ethnic groups for an issue. The next time a white child shoots up a school, [ASSHAT], [ASSHAT2], and all the others who post on here with their racist comments, I'd like to see your opinion on the raising of that white child. I'm sure you'll say s/he listened to rap music or some such nonsense.

As an aside, I work in a 2 year college. There are students who come into my office trying to get letters to help them "beat" the Welfare system. Guess what? They're White. Abuse of the system is a human condition, not a racial one.

If I sound as though I'm taking this personally, I readily admit that I am. Yes, I am Black. I also live in xxx. I also have a Bachelor's from [GOOD PHILLY SCHOOL]. And before one of the "racist posters" makes an affirmative action comment, why yes, I did get every scholarship in the book... because I aced my SATs. You have a right to your opinion, and a right to free speech. I'm just asking that before you make broad and sweeping generalizations, you also exercise your right to think.

Thanks for letting me vent."

Fibromyalgia Diaries: The I've had enough of this bullshit entry

Dear Immune System,

Over the years, I've come to realize that our relationship is chilly, at best.  We don't really get along.  Your constant need for attention.  Your refusal to follow accepted protocol.  Your unwillingness to get back to work after working really hard to combat an illness.  (You don't get a free ride for months after every minor illness!)  Your reluctance to accept healing medicines.  Your arrogant "look at me! pay attention to me!" attitude. 

Let's be clear - there is only room for one crazy unstable semi-narcissist in this relationship.  ME.  You have got to get it through your head that you are not running the show.  I AM. 

Due to the deterioration of our relationship, I am forced to present this cease-and-desist letter.  Here are my demands.

1.  Stop being such an attention whore.  That is my job and I am still pretty low-key about it (except for my desire to be a famous game show contestant). 

2.  Stop wasting my damn money.  $750 at the doctor today.  Because of your insolence, we have to see the super fancy doctor who doesn't take insurance.  It seems that pneumonia wasn't enough for you.  Now you have to rev up the ole EBV again.  I want a commissioned Tiffany Liu painting that I can already see in my head.  I do not want to continually shell out money to deal with your dumb ass.

3.  Stop using all of the same old excuses.  It's like we have a script.  Oh, Danielle works her ass off at everything she does and isn't paying enough attention to me, so I better use... EBV to get her attention.  Epstein Barr is so dull, Immune System.  You can't even come up with a normal illness that people BELIEVE IN. 

4.  Start accepting medication.  Every time, it's the same broken record.  Nope, you won't get that shot and will make me faint if I try it.  Nope, no IVs - you shrink all of the veins in my body.  (What if I wanted to be a junkie?  I'd fail because of you.)  No anti-viral medications because you make me throw up. Nothing at all to heal the EBV so that I can act like a normal human. 

5.  Stop making parts of me numb. You are really going above and beyond lately.  First, you started your crap in the spring and now I can't wear heels.  (Thanks for that since I have a rather expensive and very beautiful shoe collection.)  Now, you have started again.  My entire left cheek feels like there are tiny little bugs are dancing inside my skin.  The IV briefly made that stop, and you got pissed and moved the numb part to my forehead.  Try making it go away forever.  Face, legs and arms.  I'm sick of this shit.  I know I had pneumonia, but THAT WAS TWO MONTHS AGO.  Your time to shine is DONE. 

Do all of these things NOW.  I have had enough.  I am tired.  I am sick of spending money on health care for the same things over and over and over.  As my wise mother would say, knock your shit off. 

With hate,
Danielle

It Ain't Easy Being Light Sage

It seems that at least two people I know are under the impression that I am "green."  The Southern Girl specifically said it.  I figure I should clear this up for her because I know she doesn't know quite what to make of my lil dem self.  So let me explain.

I am not green.  Robin is green.  I have other friends who are green.  Like St. Patrick's day.  But I'm not there.  Sure, I recycle.  I turn out lights.  When we bother replacing burnt out light bulbs, I try to buy swirly bulbs.  I decided not to use a particular laundry product because the packaging couldn't be recycled.  It's a good start. 

In fact, I am so not green, Robin was able to enter me into a contest where prizes were involved for the non-green status of my cleaning supplies.  We won a prize.  I'm that green.  (Not until I get my starter kit of green cleaning supplies.)

Both of our air conditioner units are always at work and I like it COLD.  We never have the windows open.  We live too close to that stupid mountain and everyone (including that big dumb white cat) sneezes nonstop.  I use an obscene amount of paper at work each day, which I do not always recycle.  I have wasted thousands of pages on cases that I could have read online, but I didn't because I hate reading on a screen.  And we like paper towels and use a lot of them.

We also have ample amounts of dry cleaning.  We have all sorts of stuff that is always plugged in, like our computers and a cell phone charger and clocks and the dvr and ...  You see what I mean. 

I drive a Honda.  Not a prius or anything else.  I hope to buy my car at the end of my lease so that I will be driving that honda for a long time. 

So, while I enjoy being called green, I'm not.  Trust me.  I will be.  Someday.  But it's a process.  Baby steps.

Fibromyalgia Diaries: Dr's Visit Eve Edition

I still haven't gotten a decent night of sleep.  Brian suggested taking two Klonipin and I was all "but MJ..." and he said that still wasn't the same thing.  So I bought a vat of Tylenol PM and I am reintroducing that to the mix and I am hoping for the best.

When I don't sleep, my fibro flares are MISERABLE.  My legs hurt all of the time.  They can be moving, not moving, carried by flying kittens and it doesn't matter.  They ache.  My arms aren't much different. 

The annoying numb patches are back.  My left cheek has been numb on and off for the past couple of days.  I have work the wig of numb repeatedly this week too.

Fortunately, Dr. Garcia had a cancellation and I am going to visit her tomorrow.  I anticipate a long discussion about stress and pushing oneself too hard while recovering from pneumonia.  I also anticipate that my thyroid meds will be upped again.  Hopefully she won't quarantine me from going out in the public.  (Actually, that might not be so bad for a few days until the forest fires quit the smokey desert thing.) 

We'll see what happens tomorrow.  At least she will be seeing me during one of my worst flares with the stupid numb patches.

Fibromyalgia Diaries: Ouch Edition

I have had not great sleep since I messed with the Klonipin last week.  As a result, I am in TONS of pain.  Fibro is a fickle bitch.  Happy one day.  Evil the next. 

Today, I am dealing with massive leg pain.  I'm used to that by now.  My arms are heavy.  Boring.  Come on Fibro, try something new.  Oh, numbness in the apple of my left cheek?  Well, you've got me.  It's new and extremely annoying. 

Please, please let me get a decent night of sleep tonight so that I can get through tomorrow relatively pain free....

More Delicious Treats

I continued baking this evening.  I am much happier with these results. 

First, I made ultimate fudge brownies from the same agave nectar cookbook.  They are delicious!!!!! 

 

 

 

Sorry work people, this is all I'm sharing.  Mine Mine Mine!!!!

I also made another attempt with this morning's cookies, but I made the almond version.  I discovered that if I spray crisco on my hands, it is must easier to handle the sticky dough.  These are MUCH tastier than my first attempt.  Plus, they have little slivers of almonds.  Very nice.

 

In addition to all of the baking, I made quinoa pasta for dinner.  Brian and I ate it for dinner and I have enough for lunch tomorrow. 

 

 

Very happy with this evening's results.  So happy with all of these new treats.  It will be much easier to not cheat on my anti-candida diet this way!  Woohoo!!!

My favorite breakfast

If we are friends on FB, you probably know that I am obsessed with one particular breakfast meal.  Here are the three ingredients:

 

Trader Joe's Quick Cook Steel Cut Oats, Trader Joe's unsweetened vanilla rice drink and flax seeds (which are then ground.

The end product isn't pretty.

 

But it is my favorite breakfast on earth.  I pout if I have to get to work super early and I don't have the extra thirty minutes to make this.  Shredded wheat does not compare to how tasty this is.  I think this also has more fiber than the average American's daily intake.  The rice drink sweetens it enough so that I don't feel the need to put fruit on top of it.  (I am only supposed to have fruit on a full stomach because of the sugar content.)  I highly recommend this as a great, sugar-free breakfast with tons of nutrients.  The flax is also high in omega-3s. 

(Yes, to answer your question.  I clearly had the camera out while I was cooking this morning.  But let's be honest, these are the most cheerful posts I've made about my diet in ages.)

Learning to Bake with Agave Nectar

(Finally, a fibromyalgia diaries post that isn't a complete downer...)

As we have discussed on numerous occasions, I am on an anti-yeast diet.  That means I cannot have white flour, sugar or alcohol.  Based on the recommendation of a very wise friend, I tried Agave Nectar Syrup and it is delightful.  So, I ordered a cookbook on baking with agave nectar. 

 

The goal is to satisfy my sweet tooth with things that I'm allowed to have.  Yesterday, I spent a FORTUNE on groceries and got all sorts of baking supplies.  I really, really want to make the brownies, but it struck me that I do not have a proper pan.  (I intend to go out and buy that later.)  So, I had to start with something that I had all of the tools for:  cookies.

I made Vanilla Crisps. 

 

It felt great to bust out the mixer.  It's been a LONG TIME since I've baked cookies.  I've missed baking.  [I can't cook worth a damn.  But I'm a pretty good baker.  I excel in the art of chocolate chip cookies.]

 

Here's the first batch, right out of the oven.  I suspect that they are too puffy.

 

I am including this photo solely because it is cute. 

 

(By cooling rack, I assume they meant cheap plastic plate from Target that is probably leaking things that mess with my hormones.)

The cookies are ... okay.  They are not crisp.  I probably didn't make them flat enough.  Or the recipe title is misleading.  (I suspect operator error.  Much more likely.)  I am guessing that the arrowroot powder is the thing that tastes weird.  They aren't awful.  But they aren't quite right either.  I will have to try these next with almond extract and some slivered almonds.  That might make them tastier. 

On the bright side, these cookies contain nothing that I'm not allowed to have.  They are made with whole wheat pastry flour, arrowroot, salt, baking powder, agave nectar and vanilla.  That's it. 

Someone I Know and Love Has a Mean Streak

[Boys and Dad, I recommend you skip this one.  No, seriously.  Run along.]

Dear RMASE (aka, the hippie yin to my yuppie yang),

From time to time, you like to send me things that will provoke me into a yuppie yapping fit.  Indeed, it worked earlier this week when you sent me the weird croc-like shoe with the individual toes.  You escalated things yesterday when you sent the "eat your own placenta after making it into pills YOURSELF" kit.  Today, I make a casual remark about being afraid of green alternatives to feminine hygiene products.

Rather than comfort me in this time of need, you saw weakness and pounced.  You could have simply said, no tampons are completely green and not an issue and don't feel remotely bad about any waste or packaging, etc.  You could have told me that they turn into food for unicorns immediately after use.  But no.  Instead, you send a response with no links that simply refers to Diva Cups and Luna Pads.  YOU KNOW ME.  I CANNOT NOT GOOGLE THESE ITEMS.  

Dear Readers, I was not prepared for the results.  If you are brave enough, go here and then here.  Unless you are RMASE, you will most likely understand my trauma.  Fortunately, you all know about my business (my lady business) and know that I have an IUD and don't require such products.  Because now that I know they are there, guilt would typically make me purchase these. 

In conclusion, I would like to thank the fine makers of Mirena for keeping me safe until 2014.  

With fear,
Danielle

Email to Daughter: Fame

Daughter,

I'm having a very good day! The picture's blurry because I don't know how to make the close-up mode work, but it says:

"Tomato Recipe Contest" 1ST PLACE.

My last minute, brainstorm salsa beat out a multitude of others(they got more entries than anticipated) including a renown chili chutney and a Gloucester County chef with tight pants points for his tomato pie!

The prize included a gift certificate to [Unnamed local restaurant] (they'll probably steal my recipe so you may be getting some mind  property work).

 

I sincerely believe that "Wangy Stewed Tomato Salsa" and "Suicide Shrimp" could carry me to the next network chef and really becoming [Guy Fieri's] evil twin. 

We'll probably need to dismantle your picture shrine near the tv so the prize can have a shelf all it's own.  [Editor's Note:  Don't even try it.  Shrine must remain for all of eternity.]

Emails to Daughter: An email chain in which I am wronged

Father:  Introducing the reigning "World Champion Doll Baby".  [links to a video of not me.]

Daughter:  I do not possibly understand how that is not my title.

Father: In spirit, you retain said title.

But per AAU standards "Upon attaining independent mobility and the ability to communicate in complete sentences, Doll Baby eligibility is surrendered to advance into the cruel world of approaching adulthood".

Nighty Night

As I have discussed previously, I can't sleep.  This is the main reason for most of fibro related issues.  When I get home from work, the sedation process starts.  Klonipin and Celexa (my SSRI) (you'd be batshit crazy too if you had all of this stuff wrong with you so I don't want to hear it from any people who are anti-antidepressants).  I usually take these when I get home from work.  Then, right before bed, I take the big Ambien (not that CR crap either - worst pill ever) (okay, not as bad as the time I tried Dalmane or that awful butterfly crap, Lunesta, but bad), nortriptylene (an old school tricyclic antidepressant that I have been on since high school for migraines), ultracet (for pain because I have fibro and therefore have pain) and a tylenol PM. 

This is what it takes to get me to fall asleep.  Otherwise, my brain cannot and will not turn off.  (I assure you, I've tried everything and this is what works.  I know my liver is going to fall out one day when I sneeze.  I am not searching for recommendations on other things to take.  I'm simply letting you know what works for me.)

(And, if a certain pop icon died recently as a result of anesthesia, I can sort of understand.  I had it for a couple of GI related procedures and even though I'd only been out for 20 minutes, I woke up and felt like I'd had the best night of sleep ever.  Not that I would go down that road.  I'm simply saying that sleep deprivation is hell and someone had quite a tolerance level built up that makes my cocktail look quite benign.)  (Also, while we're on the topic of MJ, I am on half of the stuff that Perez has considered strong stuff that they found in his house.  Klonipin is clonazapam (sp?) and I take Provigil every day.)

I shouldn't blog with my morning oatmeal because I am not making sense and I can't stay focused.  (No morning meds yet.)  (Patience, people, patience.) 

The real point:  Over the past week, I determined that I have been as tired as a human can possibly be.  Perhaps I could sleep with less pills.  (Less pills is always a goal for me.)  So, I started with the Tylenol PM earlier in the week.  Still sleeping like a baby.  Outstanding.  So last night, I took out the Klonipin and tylenol PM. 

The result was unpleasant.  I woke up repeatedly and was menaced by stupid dreams that did nothing but keep me from resting.  So, next, I will try half of a Klonipin and see if that helps.  If not, at least I have cut out the Tylenol PM. 

Now, I must take my morning pills and prepare for my workday.  (Good morning, World, I'm coming to get you.)

The Living Dead: Not Just A Movie

Oh, why so quiet for ten days, Danielle?  Because, for the past ten days, I've been spending an awful lot of time at the place about which we will not speak.  Very, very busy doing things that we cannot discuss.  Unless you know where I've been and then, UGH. 

I figure it is time for a health update.  These are particularly interesting when I am running around like a crazy woman and have no time to do anything.  Summary:  I feel like ass.  Pro:  I fall asleep easily.  Con:  I am pretty sure I could fall asleep at any moment, whether driving, advocating or walking. 

As you all know, pneumonia is the devil.  The Giant Pill and the Avelox killed everything in me and I have to do yet another anti-yeast diet.  Which is supposed to be no sugar and no white flour.  Today, it included a rice krispy treat because it's been that kind of day.  So, because the Diflucan didn't really work last time, I'm on Sporanex (which I can't find a photo of online and that's a damn shame because it is in the running for prettiest pill I've ever taken and few are more qualified than I am to judge such a contest).  It is working.  Trust me, I know it is working. 

Because of that thing that we are still not discussing, I haven't had a lot of free time recently.  All of my free time is spent sitting on the couch, feeling lethargic.  I think I am past the point where I am herxing from the Sporanex, so it is just plain ole fatigue. 

I am tired, internet.  I can barely be bothered to read Perez Hilton every day.  My husband has broken celebrity gossip stories to me.  The world's gone mad.

Here's how this is going to go.  I'm hopefully done the intense phase of the thing that is still not being mentioned after tomorrow.  After that, if I am not dead or close to it, I am going to take this weekend off.  (Although this statement does not confirm or deny whether I have not been off for the past two weekends.  We aren't discussing that.)  I am going to use that damn elliptical machine.  (I'm pretty sure I will last for about two minutes because I am Fatty McFatAss.)  Then, I am going to the grocery store and buying ingredients to make delicious treats for myself using my new baking with agave nectar cookbook.  

One more day.  One more day.  Please do not let anyone ask me any really hard questions in the next day. 

Typing this has exhausted me.  (That exhaustion may or may not be worsened by the marshmallow treat that I ingested a few minutes ago.)  I am going to the couch and I plan to pet the cats.  Let's hope one doesn't lay on me and crush my lungs because I will be too tired to move him...

I Mad Men'd Myself

Julie & Julia

I've read tons of reviews of Julie & Julia that focus on Meryl Streep and how amazing she is.  No doubt - she is amazing, as always.  Some of the reviews said that her story was much more interesting or engaging or wonderful than the scenes regarding Julie Powell.  To those reviewers, I say, nope. 

Perhaps it is because I am a blogger who often feels like I am writing without any sort of direction or purpose, but I adored the scenes on Julie Powell.  She felt so real.  Her frustrations were real.  That blogging can cause strife in personal relationships, very real.  I strongly connected with her character.  The amazing success and failures.  Bravo. 

Don't get me wrong, the scenes with Julia and her husband were amazing.  Meryl Streep brought such joy to the screen.  Even in her frustrations, there was an underlying joie de vivre that most people don't have.  Or perhaps we are too jaded and don't think joie de vivre is cool anymore.  Who can be sure.

Go see the movie.  Unless your husband really likes duck and then expects you to cook it for him.  Then, just don't take your husband.  Unless you can cook duck.  I can't.  There's simply no way.

Accepting My Fate

Months ago, I went to the podiatrist, as you all know.  I was diagnosed with tarsal tunnel.  I now think that diagnosis was not necessarily true.  I think the problem was my shoes and my fibro.  Since then, I have worn flats.  Only a very slight kitten heel for court.  I hate them and I have grumbled and bitched nonstop. 

This week, I accepted it.  Heels mess up my legs.  We had a Hello Stiletto event on Tuesday night and I wore heels for a couple of hours.  The next day, the numb patches in my legs started again and they have been gone for a while.  Seems like that's the cause.  Much to my dismay.  And I was wearing relatively comfortable heels too... 

Today, I went to DSW.  I didn't torture myself by going through the aisles with heels.  I was taunted by a pair of Betsey Johnsons in the clearance section that were my size and GORGEOUS.  Instead, I bought flats.  I actually found six pairs that didn't turn my stomach.  None are Sam & Libby, even though one pair was cute and it was supposed to look like a painted clog with brown accents.  If those accents had been black, I would have had seven pairs.  I don't like brown - blame that on my high school uniform. 

I discovered a brand that I believe is aimed at junior high girls.  Rocket Dog.  The shoes feel like I am barefoot, so that is a plus.  They were extremely inexpensive.  I bought two pairs which claim to be made of thai silk.  Black and "dark jade" (aka teal).  I like them because it almost looks like my foot is tied up in a bandage and bound.  My husband claims I look like I have old school bound feet (even though he has seen the pictures of what that really looks like).  My feet are just small.  They look so dainty.

I was thrilled to find a very cute pair of Cole Haan flats that match absolutely nothing that I own.  I'll find a way to make that work because they are insanely comfortable.  I almost bought a pair of coach that were on clearance, but changed my mind.  I was surprised to see a better variety of flats than the last time I went.  So now, I can at least have obnoxious colors.  Most importantly, I got a pair of red patent sling backs, so I finally have something to wear with my navy dress.  (Because, remember, I think red patent is a neutral and I don't like navy shoes.  My hatred of brown is already described above.)

I spent some money, but I'm quite satisfied with this purchase.  I needed the shoes and I have accepted my fate.  Now I simply need to get some stuff to match these lovely shoes. 

Elmo Meets the Cable Guy

Our DVR died over the weekend.  If plugged in, it would simply click.  The first appointment that we could get was today, from 8-10.  The guy was late and did his thing swapping out the cable boxes.  Elmo immediately began molesting the plastic bag and I reminded him that such behavior was inappropriate in front of strangers.  He didn't care. 

 

The cable guy went through all of the set up and made the mistake of standing near the coffee table.  Elmo quickly jumped onto the coffee table and began to molest the cable guy.  That cat was all over his leg in the name of love.  When Elmo found the guy's employee badge, he was the happiest cat on earth, just scraping his little naked face all over it and purring.  When he got to the cable guy's naked knee, I think that's when Elmo crossed the line.  Cable guy looked at him, said hi kitty and patted his head a little. Then he moved away from the coffee table, out of Elmo's needy reach. 

 

Never one to understand the pain of rejection, he ran back to the plastic bag and resumed molesting that instead.  We're probably going to be blacklisted at Cox due to our socially inappropriate big dumb white cat.

For Jo Ann

Today, I finished my next article for the local bar magazine.  I did a fair and balanced report on the constitutionality of the Nevada Domestic Partnership Act.  It's a little dry.  It's a lot dry.  It's a triscuit.

Here's the issue - I am not remotely fair and balanced about this.  I abhor the fact that I live in a state that has a Defense of Marriage Amendment.  That was enacted before I moved here, so I can't be too bitchy about it. 

During the recent legislative session, Nevada passed Domestic Partnership legislation.  Just barely.  It passed and the governor vetoed it, and it passed by the bare minimum to override the veto.  First of all, bravo to the only openly homosexual state senator, David Parks, who sponsored the bill.  Next, bravo to the brave assemblywoman who told her story of being a HETERO domestic partner and what happened when her partner died.  Bravo to the couples who came forward and told stories of how it would affect their lives.  Boo to the same old arguments on the other side that say, bible bible bible.  I AM AN ATHEIST AND A BUDDHIST, SO THAT WON'T CUT IT.  Your bible can guide your life's decisions.  I have my own beliefs to guide me.  And, I believe that I am a good person and that I try to lead my life according to the eightfold path.  That path doesn't teach hate (unless you have greatly wronged me and that's where I fall off the path but that's a person by person sort of thing). 

Foes of the legislation say, oh, it's too close to marriage and our state constitution says that is between a man and a woman only.  This is such bullshit.  Separate is not equal.  I have been a supporter of gay marriage since I was in high school.  I do not get why anyone thinks they have the right to define love.  Right, because it always leads to pedophiles and polygamy and people screwing horses in South Carolina.  Yeah.  We're talking about two people who love each other, not whatever crazy scenario you can come up with to support your cause.  I read the hearing transcripts and shook my head.  I can just imagine it was like this when, omg, a black person and a white person wanted to get married.  It wasn't okay then and IT ISN'T OKAY NOW.

There are MORE requirements to get a domestic partnership in Nevada than there are to get married.  I got both of my marriage certificates here and it was easy.  I didn't have to sign a written contract saying that I was in a a committed relationship and living in a common residence.  I think I showed my drivers license and answered some very basic questions.  Most of the act aims to mirror the laws that married couples have, but it still may not get you health care on your partner's health insurance. 

I know that I am a bleeding heart liberal.  I know.  I KNOW.  I hear it every day from my husband and coworkers and cats.  But this isn't about being liberal.  It is about equal rights.  I honestly get the anti-choice movement more than I get the anti-gay marriage people. 

Here's how you can make me like legislation:  You don't decide who I can love.  You don't decide what I do with my body.  You don't decide what I can and can't say.  Those are personal decisions that can be left only to me, my conscience and occasionally, my doctor.  You cannot dictate what is moral.  You cannot dictate what I believe is right.  Use your police power to protect, not control and certainly not to preach.

To friends of a different mindset, I apologize if I have offended you, but this is what I really think.  This is what the article doesn't say.  This is my editorial.  This is my soapbox. 

I am a broken old lady.

I was in pretty good spirits after seeing Dr. Garcia on Wednesday.  Last night, I had a really bad cough again.  When I got to the office today, it got progressively worse.  Then I started wheezing.  Then it felt like there were bricks on my ribcage.  Of course my primary doctor wouldn't fit me in.  (That's a different post, when I am not as angry about it.)  So I left work and went to Quick Care.  The nice doctor said that it was good that I came in because I need more antibiotics and some other crap.  So, I still have pneumonia and it still sucks.  Yay for me.

Another Note to the Search People

Dear Bar Takers,

I always know when it is time for the bar because I get a variety of searches about how people aren't ready, etc.  It will be over in a week and you will survive.  I am in my third year of practice now and I lived to tell about it.  I want to be encouraging, but dude, I am so glad that it isn't me right now.  Have fun.  Hopefully, after I can get the easy version (after four years?) (if that is still an option), I will take CA and we can all go through it again together.  Until then, use your flash cards and figure out how to write/type fast.

Dear Grapetini Drinkers,

I am still proud to be a main destination for grapetini drinkers.  I will never understand how that happened, but enjoy your cocktail. 

Dear Person Who Thinks Kitty Heels Are Ugly,

Do you mean actual cat feet?  Because those are cute.  Especially when they are naked.  If you mean low high heeled shoes, you are right.  I can't wear my stilettos anymore and I am trapped in kitten heels at court.  Gah.  But please note, if you meant shoes, those are kitten heels.  Kitty heels = cats; kitten heels = shoes.

Dear Nasty Pervert,

Last time you got her by searching for young women.  This time, you got here by searching for male nudists who are preteens.  I again ask that you please get the hell off my site and just go to jail or therapy or something.  I hate knowing that you exist.  I hate knowing that we practically interacted.  You are icky. 

Regards,
Danielle

Fibromyalgia Diaries: Entry # 89169

Hey there.  <looks down sheepishly.>  Posting has been light, right?  Sorry.  It goes like this:  I feel like ass.  I have been completely wiped out since the pneumonia took residence in my body. 

Honestly, there's been a lot going on in the health department.  Like, hey, I am a huge fat ass.  And, hey, I don't have insomnia anymore - instead, I want to sleep all of the time.  And, hey, I can't concentrate or remember anything for more than two minutes.  And, hey, I'm a crazy moody bitch a lot of the time.

Fortunately, I got to see my beloved Dr. Garcia today.  (I don't know if she realizes that our time together is so exhaustively chronicled.  Here, let's help her out:  Dr. Alina Garcia, Las Vegas, Fibro and fatigue.  That should help if she googles herself, like I do.)  So, my thyroid is not right.  Again.  I hate this stupid thing and wish it would REGULATE AND LEAVE ME ALONE.  So more thyroid meds coming my way.

Dr. Garcia was cool with my executive decision to not get the spinal tap.  However, I think we all know that I had made my mind up on that. 

Because of the big monster horse antibiotics, I have to do some more time with the antifungals.  Not diflucan this time because I don't think it worked last time. 

A lot of the current fatigue is due to the pneumonia.  Too much going on at work to give into that.  Plus, I missed a week earlier this month from it.  Whether I like it or not, there are billable hours that I must pay attention to. 

Honestly, I can't keep my focus long enough to make any of this make sense.  Still not completely better.  Broken old lady.  Should hopefully have smaller ass soon. 

The end.

Two letters to Google searchers who got stuck with me

1.  Dear person who got here by searching "m not taking bar exam,"

Yes you are.  You have been studying your ass off.  Take the stupid test.  Then it will all be over.  Stop having a tantrum a week before the test.  I bet you need some sleep.  Oh, that's right.  You don't get to sleep now. 

2006 was so long ago.  I'm sorry, but I am just not that sympathetic and I have stopped yuppie whining.  So, you have to stop bar exam whining.  Suck it up.  Take the test. 

Oh, and good luck.  By the way, m is not a word.  Don't pull that shit on the exam.  It's am.  Consider that my helpful study hint.

2.  Dear person who got here by searching for preteen nudists,

Get your ass off my site, sicko.  I turn a blind eye at the foot fetish bullshit, but this will NOT be tolerated.  I should figure out how to find your IP address and report you to the cyber police because you are a damn pervert.  Or better yet, that guy who catches dumb ass predators on TV. 

You are not welcome in my land of rainbows and unicorns.  Run along and NEVER come back.

A random Tuesday

Dear Mommom,

Tonight, Mom and I were talking about you.  I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since.  Mom said something about taking your china.  As if I could refuse.  I will take any memory of you and cherish it and feel honored to have it with me. 

Life has taken so many twists and turns for me and Paul since we lost you.  I miss your strength and your common sense approach toward everything.  No matter what happened in our lives, you didn't judge us, even if some things may have conflicted with your personal beliefs. 

You were so incredibly special.  I know you weren't perfect, but no one is.  You brought me such joy.  I greedily cling to my memories of you so that I don't forget one second.  I'm still a little girl, singing with her grandmother in the park gazebo.  I am a pre-teen girl going to NYC for the first time.  I am a young woman graduating from college and you were there even though it made you ill. 

When I was looking for something this weekend, I came across a tiny polaroid photograph that I took of you and Poppop at Christmas dinner in either 2004 or 2005.  Like usual, you said that you looked like a mess, but you let me take the picture and you both look radiant.  I held that picture close to my heart.  I keep a photo of you on my desk at work and it makes me smile if I don't feel well or if I get bogged down by negative thoughts. 

I love you and I miss you so very much,
Danielle

To Two Unlikely Readers

Tonight, I can't stop thinking about you both.  My heart aches for you right now, but for different reasons than your own hearts might ache.  If they even still ache at all.  I love you both, dearly.  Many times, I hoped that I could have what you do.  Or did. 

As my first marriage slipped away, I hoped that maybe I could make my own fairytale.  But your fairytale always seemed to be just that.  Destiny.  Meant to be together.  After all of the trials, drama and heartache, at the center, there was always you.  Together. 

I could look to you and say, you know what, true love does sometimes win and you just have to fight for it.  My personal fairytale.  It is so hard for me to watch and not be able to help.  I want to mediate and med, but I don't think it matters.  It doesn't seem right that your fairytale should end. 

I wish you both the best, even though I will lose one of your in the process.  May you find the path you are searching for.  I am so sorry that you couldn't find a path to walk together. 

Love,
Danielle

Look, it's 2009!

I finally updated some of my links.  Gee, that was long overdue. 

I Can Find My Soapbox, Even with Pneumonia

Dear Readers, it is probably safe to say that I have an advanced degree in being a medical patient.  I have spent years getting dicked around with tests that go nowhere and doctors who want no part of what I'm selling because I don't fit into their little box.  Let's review the past six months or so. 

I have continued to see Dr. Garcia at the FFC.  I would give the presentations at their clinic if they gave me a free B12 shot and some water.  I love that woman.  Here's the thing about Dr. Garcia and the FFC.  They do not take insurance.  I have bitched relentlessly about the costs in other posts.  Hell, I have that other blog about how much their costs helped the Danielle Deficit.  However, when I make an appointment with Dr. Garcia, I get at least thirty full minutes with Dr. Garcia.  Not the nurse.  Not a PA.  She listens to me.  We go over my past labs and current labs and anything else.  I have gotten accustomed to this sort of doctor patient relationship. 

Earlier this year, I sprained my ankle.  That led to Dr. Doom.  Then to Dr. Gubler.  My appointments with Dr. Gubler were relatively quick in duration, but how much time can one take for that sort of thing.  I agreed that I needed additional tests.  When the additional tests came back, I got a shot that did nothing and I honestly believe was a complete waste of time and money because I don't have tarsal tunnel. 

When that didn't work, I was given two options:  surgery or go see a neuro.  Off to the neuro I went.  Especially because I don't need a scar and a tattoo on the same damn foot.  Neuro spent about ten minutes with me at the first appointment and it was test time.  Two MRIs, labs and other tests done in her office. 

I went back to get my results today.  My tests were clean.  (Whew, because I was worried about MS.)  She tells me that my central nervous system looks fine and have I considered that it might be fibro.  What????  She knows about Dr. Garcia, so I am assuming this was a slip up.  I gently remind her that I have been treated for fibro for years and i was there because the symptoms changed.  Before I could get anything else out of my mouth, she was writing an Rx for a spinal tap.  What?  My CNS is fine, and now I am going for a spinal tap...  An invasive test which will require me to miss more work and will also require my husband to miss work.  But for what?  She said everything else was fine.  Sure, it's nice to rule stuff out, but this is a bit much. 

Also, within the past week, I've had the pleasure of visiting the Emergency Room twice.  First, because the neuro told me to go because I couldn't work my right arm, and that turned out to be a pinched nerve.  But, instead of seeing me in her office, I had to go there to get a cardio workup.  6.2 hours in the ER and they gave me the same stuff that the neuro would have.  Does that really necessitate an ER visit over a quick office visit?

That was last Monday.  On Thursday, I felt like crap at work and assumed it was the pinched nerve or the meds and I went home.  Took my temperature and it was high.  By Friday morning, the temperature was soaring and I was starting to have trouble breathing and I was making strange sounds while coughing.  I gave up and asked Brian to take me to the ER.  Again.  Fortunately, our stay was only 2.5 hours.  My second chest xray in five days.  Pneumonia.  I'm going to be honest, this was a new one for me. 

For the past four days, I have felt like ass in a way that I haven't felt in years.  I take millions of naps.  I cough millions of times.  Sitting up is a huge chore.  (I am currently sitting up in an attempt to see if I can make it through some of my work day tomorrow.)  I realize that if this continues, I need to go back to the doctor.  Nothing annoys me more. 

In these recent experiences, I have noticed a huge difference in the standard of care:  If I want attention from a specialist, I need one who doesn't take insurance.  If I want attention on something "easy," I need to go to the ER.  I can't wait to see what my insurance bills will look like for this one. 

Obviously, healthcare reform is widely discussed.  I think it is total bullshit.  We need insurance reform.  I posted something on FB about my frustrations and one of my friends, who is married to a doctor, remarked that they get about two minutes with each patient and they order a battery of tests because if they miss something, it's on the doctor, rather than the insurance company.  I think everyone can agree that this is the sad state of healthcare in our country. 

So, while I might bitch about Dr. Garcia's rates, it's pretty damn reasonable when I think about my hourly rate.  She has made more progress than 8 years of other doctors have. 

I am respectfully declining my spinal tap until a need arises.  I am simply not giving into the overabundance of testing and making my insurance premiums even more costly for my employer.  I'll stick with the doctor I pay for out of my pocket directly and I'll get the level of care that I imagine most doctors wish they could give their patients.

Adding to my arsenal of medical knowledge

Today, I had the big tests with the neuro.  My arm felt a lot better when I woke up.  Everything was good until I got in the damn car and had to drive.  Pain immediately came back. 

When I got to the neuro's office, was taken to a tiny room with a recliner and lots of computers and things.  First, we did the REV.  Annoying.  This tests your vision and looks at the back of your optical nerve.  It was a lot of flashing black and white squares and it made my head hurt. 

Test #2 was an SSEP.  This was a fascinating test.  Electrodes and shocking bits.  That part wasn't too hard.  Just lay in the chair and let the lady do her thing. 

I still have that nasty ass paste in my hair, but I have enjoyed putting my hair in unusual styles.  Although the tech is not allowed to report official results, she said that the optical test looked okay.  She also said that the SSEP seems to indicate a pinched nerve near my neck which is what the lovely people at the emergency room said yesterday. 

I get the official results on Monday when I go back to see Dr. Goodman.  Until then, I have the pain and nerve meds from the ER.  Those helped me nap today.

During my nap, Brian came home and woke me.  It was about 6:30.  I was having the most bizarre dream.  I wasn't in the cast of Ugly Betty, but Betty was there, as Betty.  We were working on a play of some sort.  It was strange.  I wonder how that would have ended if he hadn't come home until 6:45.  Perhaps we would have been on broadway.

At a 4 way stop sign

Me:  Go.  Come on, go.  I waved at you.  What is this?  Some kind of game of chicken?

The Boy:  Since no one is going, I would say this is the opposite of a game of chicken.

Me:  Does that make it a game of egg?

6.2 Hours and all I got was this lousy plastic wristband

Look, here's the thing.  I have taken a lot of medication tonight, so you are going to have to figure out how to navigate this little mess that I'm sure to write.  If I could get into a comfortable sleeping position, this would not be happening.  But, my lucky readers, sleeping hurts, so here we are.

As I indicated in my last post, I have medical shit going on.  (Sorry.  Brian says I curse a lot in my blogs, but whatever.)  Tomorrow, I have the REV and SSEP and i thought everything would be normal until then.  Nope.  Wasn't happening. 

Here's how my day started.  Get up.  Take thyroid meds.  Go back to sleep.  Wake up.  Go downstairs for breakfast.  Realize that right arm won't work.  won't go up and down or in any other direction that arms should go.  lay on couch and hope it will pass.  It didn't.  eat breakfast.  (tricky with limited motion.)  go upstairs.  Demonstrate limited range of motion to Brian.  Brian scowls and doesn't understand that i seriously can't lift my arm without numbness or searing pain.  When I get this across to him, he scowls some more, mostly just at the bizarre maladies that I always have.

I am right handed.  Can't work without a function right arm.  Particularly if right arm is unwilling to cooperate in any way with even the slightest movement. 

Call neuro.  When neuro finally calls back, says that MRI came out normal (this is good because MS is unlikely now) and i should go to hospital to get cardio work up, just in case.  I don't want to go to the hospital.  It takes to long and everyone is covered in germs.  So I try to lay down.  Way too painful.  Reluctantly decide to go to hospital. 

Want to know what is a bitch when you can't work your dominant arm?  Brushing your teeth and getting a damn bra on your plentiful bosom. 

Go to hospital.  Not too many people there.  Assume quick trip.  Arrived around 11.  Basic triage goes rather quickly.  Get ekg quickly.  then sent to waiting room.  much more crowded.  Must be the lunch crowd rush. 

At this time, there is a spectacular male patient in the waiting room with me.  First, his very old wife is extremely mean.  She spends her time doing crossword puzzles and being mean to hospital staff.  He is old.  He is wearing a strange bathrobe with many patterns, one of which may have been an animal print, and I believe it was tied with a golden color cord.  Underneat this robe, he was wearing a long sleeved button up blue gingham shirt.  It did not match the earth tone safari robe AT ALL.  He finished his ensemble with a pair of white socks and suede beige loafers. 

Blood work time.  I am in the same room as the robe guy while he is going through triage.  We are separated by a curtain.  Chatty phlebotomist insists on talking to me to make sure I won't pass out, but I do overhear that robe guy is there for a testicle problem.  Robe guy is instantly renamed Testicle Guy. 

Back to the waiting room we go.  Watch god awful bold and the beautiful.  What happened to Jack Wagner?  He had such a hit with "All I Need," and now he is stuck on that show.  Yick. 

My turn again.  Back to get a chest xray.  Wheelchair ride was fun.  Had to remove bra.  Not fun again. 

Back to waiting room.  At some point, lady comes out to bring me pills and some crackers.  i guess they worked. 

Then nonstop sitting.  As the World Turns and Guiding Light (if that's what I was watching) are the two worst shows on earth.  Then I watched Ellen.  Then the news came on.  By the time I reached the five hour point, I was getting a little punchy.  I drained my phone battery trying to entertain myself all day.  I was heavily medicated, so my attention span only allowed me to get through about 70 pages of my book. 

Complain that i have been there for 5 hours.  5.25 hours, taken into room where doctor will come talk to me.  Doctor comes about 15 minutes later.  She tells me that my tests were fine and that I probably have a pinched nerve.  I need prescriptions.  go back to waiting room.

Get prescriptions.  Neurontin, Naprocyn (sp?) and Lidocaine patches.  Finally leave into the 104 degree inferno that is Las Vegas Summer.  6.2 hours total. 

I had four other prescriptions to refill, so I got the big paper bag at CVS since there were seven in all. 

Neurontin is good stuff.  it seems to do the trick.  But it doesn't last long enough. 

Tomorrow, i will get all of my other tests done and hopefully they can tell me which of my damn nerves is pinched.  (I just sort of guessed when I put on my lidocaine patch.)  (Sorry, when my dear husband put on my lidocaine patch as he kept saying "Boobies!  I see Boobies!."  That's exactly what you need when you're drugged up.  Your husband taunting  you like a fifth grader.  We got the patch on.)

Now, tomorrow is going to be interesting because I have to wash my damn hair.  I do not know if i can do that with one hand.  I hope Brian doesn't have to leave for court that early...

I am going to try and sleep on the couch right now.  Maybe it will help if i have a little nudist heating pad on my shoulder. 

Today

Today is one of those days where I feel like I can't do it any more.  I am pushing my body too hard.  I am fatigued to a point where every inch of my body hurts.  My head hurts.  My scalp tingles.  Patches of my legs go numb without any warning or reason.  Then suddenly the numbness goes away.  I am exhausted.  I can't think clearly.  It hurts to think. 

I have volunteered for too much.  Taken on too many upcoming commitments.  Need to better realize my own limitations.  I cannot do everything.  I am not super woman.  Right now, I cannot be kind.  I cannot be compassionate.  I can focus only on how much pain I am in and how no amount of sleep seems to make it better. 

I can't focus on anything but the new pain and what the new pain could mean.  I don't know that I can handle any new diagnosis.  I need this to be "just fibro." 

Today is a day when I don't know how to keep up with everyone else in the race.  I cannot do it.  The thought of getting out of bed tomorrow hurts my head.  But it doesn't matter if I get 7 or 15 hours.  It is a cycle that never stops. 

I don't make this any easier on myself.  I keep taking on more and more.  I can't keep up.  But I don't want to disappoint.  No one wants to hear that you are tired.  No one wants to hear that you don't want to be around people.  No one is going to give you a pass for fatigue.  Not in my business. 

My scalp won't stop tingling. My head won't stop throbbing.  The tears have started. 

Today has not been a good day.  I am going to bed and hoping for a better day tomorrow. 

I have a brain and a neck! Oh, and flats suck.

Okay, this is a long overdue health update.  I haven't posted anything recently because of the privacy concerns, but that simply isn't who I am.  I have always said that if this helps someone with fibro, it is worth it. 

Remember when I sprained my ankle?  It was supposed to heal and stuff.  It didn't.  Since that time, I have had considerable numbness in my legs.  It is patchy and doesn't seem to come with any sort of pattern.  Sometimes I get pins and needles.  Sometimes it comes and goes.

I had to buy lady shoes.  Little tiny kitten heels and, ugh, flats.  Ugly ugly ugly shoes that I hate.  The shot in my foot did nothing.  It made my skin peel, which was a nice side effect to know about. 

I talked to fibro Dr. Garcia and she recommended I see a neuro since my NCV came back abnormal.  So I went back to Dr. Goodman (another highly recommended LV doc).  It's test time. 

Today I had an MRI (with contrast) on my brain and neck.  (I have both.)  I was concerned because an IV was involved, but the nurse did a good job.  Boring boring boring.  Lots of counting of the clicking noises to try and find the patterns.  15 loud clicks, then 7 soft clicks after a 1 click rest.  That was my favorite pattern. 

I have to get some more blood work.  Lupus and that sort of thing.  Things I have tested negative for a million times. 

Next week, I am getting two other mystery tests at the neuro office.  It's going to take hours.  I will find out my fate on 7/6.  We'll see what fun is in store.  I am not taking well to the flats.  I tried to put on heels and wanted to die.  I can barely wear the kitten heels.  My shoe life sucks.  I don't like it one little bit.