tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27686151196761313832024-03-04T19:42:38.697-09:00Brain SurgeryThis blog is dedicated to all my friends and family--my huge support system. I have brain cancer, and this is my story.Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.comBlogger181125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-6687499260318223992013-03-02T21:19:00.000-09:002013-03-02T21:23:37.733-09:00Potty Talk<br />
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<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
Which our Heroine Looks for the Loo.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am so sick of talking about Cancer and/or
Medications.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This blog used to be fun—I
used to be fun!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Occasionally, anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, another subject: Dreams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As in, the kind you get when you sleep. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not</i> about aspirations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m going for the light-hearted here!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seriousness is hereby declared out of style.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some of the best dreams of my life are the “where is the
toilet” dreams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yep, I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Highly applicable in the middle of the night.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of these dreams deal with detailed
architecture—because you see a lot when it is such a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i> long journey to the bathroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once I was aboard a space-ship<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>( Star Wars style, but the elevator in the
back is all Star Trek).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pretty sure
Captain Picard and Data were there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
had to get to the bathroom on a lower deck, but there was DIFFICULTY with the
elevator. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unlikely that I reached my
destination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Make
it so, Number 1.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then there was the locker room dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is hard to find the single bathroom toilet
within.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lots of large, well-muscled
girls that kind of scare me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that’s
why I have to sneak to the bathroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Half-size
locker for me (on the bottom level of course, which jams at a crucial moment),
smelly towels hung on locker doors and benches everywhere, the sweaty sock
smell that permeates every locker room since the advent of the Roman baths.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reach destination but well-muscled people
just keep interrupting me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also someone
didn’t clean the toilet very well. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">LDS church, Eva accompanying me, because <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she’s</i> the one who has to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Toddler = hurry. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The nursery room takes up the whole basement,
but for some reason random basket/volleyballs from the gym keep ending up
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the nursery is big, then the
rest of the building is tantamount to the empire state building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hallways in this place have a lot of brown
carpet that run half-way up the wall with a mauve colored paint above
this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are teal armchairs and sofas
in the oddest corners (ala LDS church foyer style).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hallways are short and maze-like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there are men’s bathrooms <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everywhere</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In desperation I try one of those, but it
turns out to be a maze too, just with more tile and towel dispensers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not sure if I ever reach my destination. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I ran a lot, which has got to be good for
the body.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There is the dream with the oddly circular building full of
bureaucrats who keep passing me by, and who are terrible at giving
directions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The walls are vertical
wooden slats (pretty nice, actually) and the carpet is a uniform gray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The outer hallway runs full circle along the
edge of the building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are various
doors toward the interior, and I must find the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I finally do, it is a very depressing
bathroom indeed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gloomy with cinderblock
walls (think soviet architecture) and dripping pipes everywhere, occasional
mossy-mold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pipes are actually
pretty cool because they twist everywhere, even diagonally across the huge
space (think M.C. Escher).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the
toilets are everywhere, and you just can’t find the right one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are varying heights, some set atop many
cinderblock steps so they look—yes—like a throne.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All are connected to an array of pipes (the lovely
U-bend is especially present).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All are
cold and yucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Destination reached, but
too repulsed to go further.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fast food restaurant-style bathroom, has black and white
tiles on floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Found easily, but there
is the smell of French fries everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The stall doors are two or three feet off the ground and the toilets are
very tall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You feel like you are sitting
in a highchair—if you can climb that high, which is gross because you'd have to grab the seat and hoist yourself up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No sink apparent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a problem
as you are in a yucky fast-food bathroom. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It looks spick and span, but you know
better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little germies are probably
everywhere! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Destination reached, but can’t
quite get up the courage to use said facility, because you need a sink in the
room, dang it!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Bathroom with lots of stalls, a regular taupe-colored affair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The toilets are normal, but the stalls have
some serious problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some are too
high, some are too low.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How is a girl
supposed to retain her modesty here?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some are pretty good, but all these women keep stealing them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as you approach, one of them comes
wheeling in, cutting in front of you and slamming the door in your face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So you finally find one that will sort of
work—the stall goes up to your lower rib cage, and right now that’s the best
you got.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re pretty excited, because
you really gotta go, but then suddenly you are naked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No modesty, no go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Destination <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">finally</i> reached but to no avail.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another black and white bathroom—very large—and
communal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are toilets <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everywhere</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They sit back to back, sometimes side by
side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very crowded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But none have stalls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a general rush to find the best
toilet—shiny ones are the best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People
scurrying everywhere like ants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I myself
am stalling because I can’t figure out what to do—I like walls around me in
these crucial moments, dang it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh
crisis!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Panic mounting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dream truncated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I woke and found the bathroom adjoining my
bedroom.</span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-85214468994827981952013-03-02T21:12:00.002-09:002013-03-02T21:12:15.061-09:00The Product of Chemicals
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">in Which there are Alchemical
Changes.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; text-transform: uppercase;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I will make this brief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The anti-epileptic oxy…whatever turned out be
Public Enemy No. 1.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never experienced
such violent vomiting before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Four days
after beginning it, I found myself on the phone <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">begging</i> my doctor to let me quit. Lamotrigine suddenly didn’t seem
that bad—even with seizures added to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And Keppra was starting to look like a day-dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah, the advantages of hindsight. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For the last month and a half, I have
been cycling off of Lamotrigine and going back onto Keppra.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The change in dosages is much more abrupt
this time, every week stepping down 100 mg per day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve really been able to see the effects that
come from such sudden changes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first
it was up on Keppra: hard physically and emotionally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then down a step on Lamo: a bit better both
physically and emotionally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another step
down: better physically, BAD emotionally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Next step: better physically, absolutely wonderful emotionally—possibly somewhat
manic: lots of action and not enough sleep, happy but so very tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next step: physical effects nearly gone,
slightly less happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can literally
feel the Keppra settling into my system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lamo up and downs gone and the incredibly stable, but ever-annoyed me
making a comeback.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Forget history,
forget tradition, forget culture—I am a product of my chemicals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And through it all: terrible
insomnia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of the time I get to
sleep around 2 or 3 am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s kind of
like living in a happy little fog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sounds like something Bob Ross would say. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am gaining the greatest respect for people
who deal with this as a mental illness: the depressed or bipolar who are
constantly tweaking their medication.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rough
stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would probably rather go through
brain surgery again than go through a couple more years of these alchemical experiments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-81967407409987137682013-01-11T20:26:00.000-09:002013-01-11T20:26:20.495-09:00Hello Dizzy
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;">in Which our Heroine Airs
her Dirty Laundry .</span><span style="text-transform: uppercase;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On Thursday morning I had a seizure, a facial tick that went
down into the neck. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clearly my new
anti-epileptic is a massive FAIL.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So now
I must set my medicinal pal free where it can fly in the wind, (much like
dirtly laundry hung out to dry).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mine
erstwhile medicinal friend was also messing with my ever-erratic emotions way too
much—now that’s some grimy laundry for you, kind reader.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Goodbye lamotrigine, and good riddance.</span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Enter oxy… something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ah, here it is: oxcarbazepine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Who
names this stuff?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s ridiculous). Another anti-eppiletetic, eteleppic,
epliteptic, epileleptic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Try saying it
three times fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ready, set GO!</span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So far I am really, incredibly, unabashedly, furiously <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dizzy </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">off balance</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am an adept
when it comes to walking into furniture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thus far my wonky combination of lamotrigine and oxy-something seem to
be a 24/7 thing rather than the previous 3-4 hour torture that has been my life every
day from 11 to 3 pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope that I will
feel better when current archenemy No. 1 is purged from my system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will know in four months time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If that doesn’t work then I will begin, or
possibly go back, to a different medicine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Or perhaps a combination?
</span>Up and Down, Up and Down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
always loved roller coasters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s rough, and I will tell you truthfully that this has
been an eventful, frenzied, confused, out of the ordinary, awful week for these
and other reasons I cannot articulate at this time. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I will survive, prevail, triumph over, keep
my chin up, fight the good fight, and continue on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think of how much I’ve already been
through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing can stop me now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Except that I have to wait <em>another </em>six months to drive legally. Nevertheless, I continue on with optimism, though it be at a slower pace. Kind of like f</span>resh, white, clean laundry blowing gently
in the breeze in a quaint mountain valley.</span></div>
Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-48019598580182867942013-01-04T12:59:00.002-09:002013-01-04T12:59:28.165-09:00Christmas 2012<br />
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<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
the which our Heroine Backtracks to Prior Events.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Santa came a few hours early this Christmas. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did not use a chimney.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The doorbell rang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I opened the door, and then closed it
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like on TV when the character can’t
believe what they’re seeing so they shut and open again just to make sure it
wasn’t a figment of their imagination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well,
there was no such confusion or romance in my reaction (but isn’t the parallel
funny!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was cold, and I had a bag of
bread in my hands (PBJ’s commin’ right up!) and I had to put it down because
there was no way I could hold it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i>
all the gifts at the same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yes, I said gifts in the plural. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know, in general, giving has some sort of
limit, but this easily crossed the line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The persons/Santas in question remain anonymous despite my many cognitive
efforts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Take it from someone who has time and time again proven that
she is terrible at gift giving, these presents were good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And they, combined with those of extended family
and friends, were ALOT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Christmas
morning came and there were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more</i> for my girl to unwrap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eva was rolling in the splendor of so much
wrapping paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was clearly
experiencing new horizons in toy-play.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is clear that she is still experiencing this as she has neglected all
other and older toys in favor of the new.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t think she’ll ever go back.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was not soliciting for charity in my last post, but it
came anyway—and in such incredible generosity. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We felt this charitable love from other
unexpected and fantastic presents on our doorstep that evening—again, really
good—from good friends who spilled the beans the next day (surprise! Thank you
Hendersons and Rappleyes), to a delicious pumpkin pie. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, the expected gifts received in
trade far exceeded my own miserable presents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I feel the largesse, but cannot seem to produce it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except for mine to Eva, which of course lay
at the heart of my sarcastic “anger” toward St. Nick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Due to the benevolence of others, I was able
to take credit for the other big favorite of the day: A box of Disney
Princesses with multiple changes of clip-on dresses. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could a three-year-old girl not love
these?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And so, to the Santa’s in my life, I raise my glass (of left-over
eggnog) in salute.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-70075913746851789362012-12-22T20:17:00.001-09:002012-12-22T20:37:34.403-09:00Jolly ol' St. Nicholas<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">in
Which the Little One Writes a Letter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On the Eve of the day in which our world was to end, my
three-year old quite obliviously wrote a letter to Santa Claus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She chose the letter A.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then she drew a balloon and colored it
black.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the outside of the envelope
she instructed me in very fine detail to tell Santa that she wanted two
toys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No more, no less. That night, she
gave <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thanks for Santa and his reindeer</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thank
you that I am going to get two toys</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At one point in time, Eva had known that this holiday was about Jesus,
but then she saw Santa in the mall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
pretty sure that he’s the one who whispered the idea of two toys in her
ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And now it must come to pass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are no outs on this one because she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">truly</i> believed him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two gifts—from Santa, because he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never</i> lies….<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Meanwhile, I face the cruelest of all facts: I spent good time
and money buying my daughter the best of all gifts (exact number: two).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had visions of being the coolest mom ever
as Eva opened her princess stuff—forget visions of sugar plums.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t have a ton of money for this
kind of thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Now t</span>he parents are stuck with giving a tutu
(her third), a hand-me-down Tinkerbell purse, and a toothbrush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> All these were supposed to be stocking stuffers (thanks for the full stocking, Santa)! </span>For the good stuff—scratch that—<em>all</em> the stuff I have to give credit
to the dubious Kris Kringle, alias St. Nick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Unbelievable. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s a good thing the world didn’t end, because I would be charged with a)failure to teach said child in all things religious and b)strangling a fat and jolly man.</span></o:p></div>
Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-54772335383170760282012-12-17T16:42:00.001-09:002012-12-17T16:42:25.889-09:00SHUT-IN
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">in
Which Legalities Greatly Affect our Heroine.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t get out much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">About five months ago, I had a major seizure and it takes
the grand total of six months for quasi-epileptics like me to legally
drive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not actually epileptic and I
don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">plan </i>on having a seizure
anytime soon, yet I am illegal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh-how-traumatically-unjust.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But maybe I’m not seeing this the right way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For one, I now know who my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real</i> friends are—they are the people who
routinely drive me everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Additionally I get to spend a lot more one on one time with my
daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I appreciate my husband even
more because he is my constant companion: i.e., chauffer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get to do a lot of reading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With all my spare time, I do a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">teensy</i> bit more housework.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The unfortunate downside is that I don’t have a lot to write
about as far as current events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right
now, I am the event of every day (along with my daughter and her shenanigans).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In that vein, a summary of me and my life: I
feel pretty good, though I still have tired/dizzy spells sometimes (not every
day).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Emotions fairly stable (except for
that one day…).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My head shakes when held
in the right/wrong position, like an old woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This can be very disconcerting when teaching a RS class, solution: slump
as much as possible and tip head alternatively from left to right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you are lucky, people will think you are
concentrating really hard on various comments—not that I wasn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> (Promise--the comments were exceptional, but my slouchy neck issue was a distraction on occasion.) </span>Grade: B+. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oddly enough, it isn’t so bad to be awkwardly
off-balance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the driving thing that’s really getting
on my nerves.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-70258998986500022972012-11-23T10:00:00.000-09:002012-11-23T10:00:02.944-09:00Going Batty
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which the Fruitbasket goes Bananas.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">About a month ago, I was completely unable to control my
emotions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here’s a visual for you: One
Sunday, about 15 minutes before leaving for church, I began crying for hardly a
reason.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could not get myself to
stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end I was so red, puffy,
and tired that I opted out of attending my Sunday meetings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No way was I going to show up looking like
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thankfully, that has passed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sort of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Several times in the past three to four months, I have felt
a sense of dizziness and vertigo—especially when I was at my largest combined
dosages of Keppra and Lamotrigine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
has gotten considerably better as the weeks go on, though I still have a rough
time every day from 11 to 3.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Since I began the decrease of Keppra, vision issues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first I thought I was having trouble
focusing my eyes—as if I was crossing them and unable to fix on an object.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes it almost seems like my vision is
getting better, like I’m wearing prescription glasses that are too strong for
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All of this doesn’t even cover the confusion, memory
problems, and general stupidity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this
a topic for another day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still need to
work these things out in my own head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
you can’t tell, I’m not really sure what is going on here; possibly “I am going
bañañas and there are bats in my belfry,” thank- you-Madonna.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-72647526590018722612012-11-22T21:55:00.000-09:002012-11-22T22:00:42.629-09:00Better Than the Obligatory Thanksgiving Post<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which our Lady is Sincerely Grateful.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Facebook has people who go all through the month of November
and up until Turkey Day with incredible gratitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every day they post something for which they
are thankful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d like to think that I
have at least as much to be thankful for as them, but I am unwilling to get on
Facebook every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, although I could
give you a list of exactly 22 one-liners, I will here do something a little
different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the way, I mean no
disrespect for those admirable facebookers who…one-line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> After all, t</span>hey are my inspiration today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay, so here goes:</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thanks to all the people that are constantly thinking of me
and helping me out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know who you are
and FYI I hope to get actual Thank-you cards mailed out someday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meanwhile I will shout my gratitude out to the
universe.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There are those who support me physically—thank you for
making me food and providing the occasional child care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These people drive both me and my child
places when I cannot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They open cans and
tie knots when my hands get all weak and shaky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They teach my child and nurture her when I am weary—just so <em>weary </em>of
doing it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are so many of these
supporters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best word to describe
them is simply this: they are GOOD.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(As
in “God created the world and it was good….”)</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We move then to the emotional/mental/spiritual support.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are those who share various parts of my
malady and who are open with me about what they are going through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of their empathy and candidness I
learn from them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many are those who lead
by example in addition to actually guiding me into spiritually uplifting
situations when I can’t seem to find true north.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are those who listen to me when I’m
down, and who deal with my insanities while never making me feel dumb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I’m not driving at full throttle (is
this even a commonly-used phrase?), but people are mostly kind to me about
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realize that I often exhibit stupidity/slowness/incompetence/Valley-girl
brainlessness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It can be really
humiliating when I am the object of a joke that I don’t even fully
understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tell you now that KINDNESS
is a priceless gift.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I read back over what I have just written, I realize that
my husband exhibits all of the goodness and kindness addressed here, in all its
finite detail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know, when I was
lookin’ for a man back at good ol’ BYU, I picked out kindness as one of the top
three qualities on my I-could-date-this-guy list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so, finally, I come to another point of
gratitude, I am so glad I found Jon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-74735291001012630562012-11-17T12:28:00.002-09:002012-11-17T12:28:35.165-09:00The Brave and the Grey<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which our Heroine Considers Dying—um I Meant Dyeing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My hair is going gray. (sudden sob)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve noticed a few gray hairs sprouting for
some time, but last night I saw more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
I looked in the mirror just before bed, I saw that my hair was a little lacking
in luster—yes that’s the word: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lackluster</i>
up near the scalp. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed pale. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought to myself, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Is my hair thinning up there?</i> (shock: whatever this is, I will almost
certainly sob soon) baldness seemed impossible given that I have always had
this huge mane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I crept closer to Traitorous
Mirror, and found that about an inch from the scalp on either side of the part
was pretty—scratch that word—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i>
gray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(surprise hiccup sob)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This never happens, does it?</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the people I know had a few grow at first
then slowly more begin to turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But an abrupt inch?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is that about?</i> (frustrated
sigh-sob).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Gray is such a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">boring</i>
color.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why can’t we at least use <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">grey</i> instead?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The British can make anything look right by
dressing it up in faux splendor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gray
(yarrgh sob).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grey (silence, almost).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Meanwhile, I woke this morning and immediately thought, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my-hair-is-gray</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(groggy sob)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I tried to lie there longer, but it was too pathetic. (pathetic sob) So
off to the shower I went, uselessly hoping to wash the gray away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh
wait, its hair dye that washes out.</i> (wet blubbering sob).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh no!
What if I have to start dyeing my hair! </i>(mnmmmnnn: high whiny drawn out sob)
Then: (sharply indrawn breath ending in shaky sob) <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dyeing sounds an awful lot like dying—are they even spelled
differently? </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Microsoft Word tells me
that they are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still: (hounds baying to
the moon howl/sob). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Things I will lose if I truly turn gray:</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The potential ability to flaunt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All final joy in looking in the mirror.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The final, grasping hold on youth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Money due to hair coloring product.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Probably the nice texture of my hair as it
will be replaced by the wiry grayness of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">both</i>
of my grandmothers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My husband’s love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just kidding, I hope.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All appearances of normality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m already weird enough, I don’t need to add
a semi-youthful face staring out of an ugly gray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Happiness, because I can only be depressed
from now on. </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My pride, as I will have to face the
certain indignity of using the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gray </i>at
the DMV.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The former belief that brain surgery is
worse than anything I could ever experience.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Alternativly,
I guess I could show my gray stripes and go out with nobility.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, I have earned them, haven’t
I?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem here being that I don’t
have a noble bone in my body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pride yes,
nobility no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh how I mourn my misspent youth
(grief-stricken, somewhat despondent sob) May the humility stop now (fervently
sobbed, quickly stopped).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I don’t
have to let it get me permanently down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This one I can hide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">will</i> fight this turn of events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I might even do it with richer color (short sob
of quickened resolve).</span></div>
Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-89340164063168112542012-11-15T14:35:00.000-09:002012-11-15T14:35:00.149-09:00That Happy Place<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which our Heroine takes Drugs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What happened after/during the seizures: </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I now go to a neurologist by the name of Dr. Troxell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the true sense of doctoring lies in the
ability to heal, then she passes with five stars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As an aside, she happens to know certain
members of the Dahle family. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ahem. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am pleased to induct her into my corps of
doctors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Conversation is easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She actually listens and seems to understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She heals both physically and
emotionally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve had some excellent
doctors in my short time, but they quickly lose interest in me once they
realize that death isn’t imminent. <span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> With them, I am to
be monitored—at a distance. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>The need
for anti-epileptics is both a current and continuous problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For this reason, I am glad to have someone
like the good Dr. Troxell. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At that first visit, we discussed how my then current
medication, Keppra, needed an increase in dosage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the thought, I literally felt a sense of
panic when it was mentioned—hair standing on end and all that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had taken that dosage before, and it was
awful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s why I (with my P.A.’s
clearance) had tried to go lower and then had those seizures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hah!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Great solution.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I personally hated Keppra, but to be fair it was excellent as an
anti-epileptic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the other hand, it
was tough on my otherwise tender emotions, etc…. On a graph: a gently undulating
line the mean of which is lower than my usual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Steady and… boring.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Instead we decided to try the switch to another medicine,
Lamotrigine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am still trying to figure
out if it works well for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some
medications take time to get into. You increase slowly until you reach the target
dosage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my case, three months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reached full dose and then leveled off for
a few weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I had what I felt was a seizure—small
but it had that feeling of mind-freeze and then uncontrolled jerky movement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Welcome to the world of intimately knowing a
seizure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It comes, you instantly
recognize it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh, hello erstwhile
friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not glad to see you.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, Lamotrigine was increased a teensy
bit, and then I began the too-slow purging of Keppra.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Here’s the thing, changing dosages is murder on me and I
have to do it every week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I can just
get to that happy place—the one where I stay constant for a few weeks—then I feel
great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weekly adjustments, though small, are
severely hampering my lifestyle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
good news is that so far, Lamotrigine seems better for me emotionally. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once again I wield a pointer at the
imaginary graph: its gets me back to a higher mean, though I do have a tendency
to go up and down a lot more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s
okay with me—feeling emotion is worth it as long as the ups/downs don’t get too
high/low.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, my creativity is back
and that is almost good enough for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well,
we’ll see what happens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taking both
Keppra and Lamotrigine at the same time may be quite different than doing
either individually.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The clock
ticks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually we will see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-60319948182171095682012-11-14T14:03:00.000-09:002012-11-14T14:03:00.632-09:00Summarizing
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
the which Writing is a Relief.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Months and months since I’ve last written!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stopped for two reasons: </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">1. I began to have seizures last spring and into the summer
due to my medication being too low.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
made me tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once I have a seizure I’m
basically out of commission for the next five days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cycle is this: I have a seizure, get so
tired that I can barely function, then become petrified that it might happen
again, and am then afraid to do active tasks that might set off another
one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am currently working to solve
this problem.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">2. I started to feel like I was hanging all my dirty laundry
out to dry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes, a person just
needs some privacy to deal with personal stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To explain: One of the initial reasons I began this blog was
to let friends and family know what was going on during my recovery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That seemed less necessary as the months went
on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, after all this time I do
still have the occasional health-based challenge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If people don’t know about it, then incorrect
assumptions happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They may think I’m
just fine and can physically or emotionally handle everything another person
could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the other hand, there are
times when I am completely discounted because I have health problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if people do know what is going on, they
still don’t understand how it is to work through it day by day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The closest thing I can do toward correcting
such assumptions and this lack of understanding is to write descriptively about
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Additionally, sometime in the past few years I went from introvert
to extrovert. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to get this pent-up
emotion out somehow. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately I
have trouble getting coherent words out of my mouth and now occasionally
stutter when I try to speak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Writing is
so much easier. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, it’s a relief.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-54841923196578310412012-11-13T23:34:00.004-09:002012-11-13T23:34:55.139-09:00The Throne of all Showers
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which our Heroine Sits.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today I used a shower chair for the first time in two years
(while showering), and I thought to myself, “Wow, I should really write about
this because my life is full of unimaginably bizarre experiences.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Using the chair today brought back some memories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like the time when my mom had to shave my
right armpit for me because I was paralyzed on half my body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Hey, I’m just letting all you healthy
yuppies in on some real-life sickie information here.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is always the lovely memory of my mom
(bless her soul) putting A LOT of towels down on that cold chair and pretty
much anywhere I was going to be just so I could stay warm, which is ridiculous
because those who truly convalesce have no energy to dry and braid their lustrous
locks of hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Warm towels are useless
against the wet head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">However, none of the above experiences applied today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed the chair because my currently
fluctuating medication makes me dizzy for several hours each day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, that precise moment of wooziness
was the only time I had to take a shower today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Usually I avoid the problem by wisely ordering my schedule around the
medication.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so goes my life: largely
directed and certainly influenced by my health.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And here the slightly modified part that I write in my
journal at the start of a new year: I hereby promise to write much more often
in this incredibly important, wonderfully interesting, and shall we say, indispensable
blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will even post a summary of the
past several months so my indefatigable fans will be current on what is
happening otherwise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know this because
it is already written.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I set the date
and time for 11/14/12 at exactly 2:03 p.m. Alaska Standard Time. </span></div>
Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-58900418557116755282012-05-24T11:29:00.001-08:002012-05-24T11:29:28.043-08:00Invalid vs. the Grateful<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which our Heroine tries to be Happy with her Lot in Life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Speaking of split worlds, I also live in a place of both
discontent and gratitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, you can
have totally conflicting emotions all at the same time and even for days on
end, if you are me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lately, I am feeling
a confusing combination of invalidation in life and yet gratitude for that life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is not news: one of the best ways to beat hardship and the
accompanying anger and depression is with gratitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
instance, while I was stewing away in my doctor’s waiting room that horrible
Monday, I was dually aware of how blessed I have been in my recovery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every time I go, I fill out the medications
and physician information sheet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
consists of fifteen or so lines for medications, and three areas for your other
doctors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wrote my ridiculously low
dosage of ”500 mg 2/day” next to my one-liner “Keppra,” and felt a little
better about my lot in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My lack of emotional maturity was next brought to bear
against the 20 or so patients who came and went while I sat there—every single
one of them looking worse than me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
all, my scars are all hidden underneath what the world of teen fiction might
call a ravishingly thick head of wavy hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I do not use a wheelchair, nor do I limp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hands are weak, but I can still use
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not grossly overweight, or
even cancerously underweight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
medicine makes me a little crazy sometimes (illogical, irrational, easily irritated),
but on the whole I am in control and very happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wonderful husband and daughter were there with
me (no babysitter, and by the way I need a chauffeur now)—I was not alone that
day, nor have I ever been bereft of support.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">These things are the truths of my life, all laid out in that
one waiting room experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But more
than that, God has given me some truly wonderful tender mercies lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First, I have had a lot of opportunities for
service in both church and community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When you have limited time, it is nice to know that you are doing something
worthwhile with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is amazing how
much energy you can get just from doing something for someone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I can’t help but love it when someone
acknowledges that service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One
particularly hard day, I began to feel like I’d made myself physically ill
(quite literally) for nothing as I overheard someone else claim credit for
something I’d spent <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hours </i>preparing
for—albeit while quietly at home and for weeks in preparation rather than at
the actual date of the event.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I turned
around and bitterly walked away from the situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not two seconds later, someone interrupted my
moping to express gratitude for something else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perfect timing—I really needed to hear that right then. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few days later, I received a surprise thank-you
card from a friend for teaching a Relief Society lesson at church—also great
timing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Caring surprise phone calls,
cuddling with my child, successful gardening ventures, or my husband bringing
home dinner and doing the dishes while he laughs with me about something—I have
felt the reaffirmation that my life is full, though I am simultaneously aware
that it really only consists of 1/2 to 2/3 the amount of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">livable</i> time for which I long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-79948629282665964082012-05-24T11:28:00.002-08:002012-05-24T11:42:25.470-08:00Tara vs. the Invalid<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which our Heroine has a Seizure and experiences <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">AFTERMATH</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A long time ago, in a blog far away, I expressed my
confusion over the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">invalid</i>:
pronounced 2 ways and with two different meanings: as in one with an illness,
and then one who has been invalidated—made non-essential, unsound,
unacceptable, even nullified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At that
early time of recovery, it was irritating to find that this title applied to me
so well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, it is more annoying to
find that after nearly two years of recovery, I am still an invalid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m getting it now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sick
people are invalidated from society not because they are “unacceptable,” as the
thesaurus says, but because so much of their time and effort is spent being
ill, and therefore much of their life really is invalidated of both energy and
enterprise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would say that I spend a
good quarter of my day (not counting my 9 hours of sleep each night) resting up
so I can live the other hours more meaningfully.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been deluding myself into thinking that
I would make a full recovery after brain surgery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t
mean to be maudlin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The simple fact is
this: I have a chronic illness named brain cancer, and I need to finally get it
through my (metaphorically) thick skull.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This abrupt realization is brought home by a couple of recent
seizures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first was a Monday about
two and a half weeks ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had just
walked ten minutes to a friend’s house, and was greatly surprised to find
myself standing at the top of a half-flight of stairs shaking
uncontrollably.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I’m no fool, and I
know you are all just a bit curious about what it feels like to have a
seizure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, here goes:</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Imagine yourself on the way out of a smile, when your face
freezes into a grimace and your upper body starts jerking horribly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are conscious and still standing, but
become aware that you really should get to a chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your mind is working slowly the syrupy sludge
that is a seizure even through the panicky adrenaline you can feel washing
through your body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Desperately you think,
“If I can just concentrate and take a deep breath, then maybe I can stop before
my friend notices.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it is too late.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You hear her repeating your name,
progressively with more alarm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It takes
five to ten seconds for you to get your response out—and are somewhat surprised
to find that you can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But your jaw is
stiff, and you come out sounding like you need speech therapy: “Yeessh,” in a
deeper voice than usual (think special needs voice).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Friend grabs shoulders and tells you that she
is going to help you back to the bench a few steps back. “Ohh…Kayye.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once sitting you are able to take a deep breath
and the thing stops abruptly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But that’s just the beginning, because there is the
aftermath: You are tired for the rest of the day—quite literally
bone-weary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, it lasts for a
week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You call various people over the
next few days to get out of various commitments/appointments. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You stop doing housework and quite cooking
meals in favor of sleeping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your child
watches progressively<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>more hours of TV. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You do what you can, but its never
enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You wish for more energy, and
you angrily blame your anti-convulsant medication Keppra—after all what are you
taking the stupid stuff for anyway?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
make an appointment and meet with your neuro-surgeon who simply increases the
dosage for said hated medicine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
face of your emotionally erratic displeasure, the poor man refers you to a
neurologist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are so tired after
spending all afternoon in the waiting room of your doctor’s office that you
come home too exhausted to think and forget to rip open the bag containing the
more powerful Keppra before going to bed and instead take the old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next morning you have another seizure
standing in front of your vanity mirror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is mildly interesting to watch yourself seize, but mostly grotesque,
and you can help but feel a little repulsed by yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More anger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>More exhaustion from seizure combined with the inevitable moodiness and
tiredness that accompanies getting used to an increased dosage of your most
beloved medicine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You live in a split world, one in your head that makes
idealized plans for what it will be like when you’re all better; and the other
where you realize that the only reason you have time to make such ridiculously
hopeful plans is because you have to spend all morning lying on your back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But don’t worry—this is not the end of the
story, please do take the time to read the next post to see all the good stuff
that is happening to me too.</span></div>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-76066620003053675362012-04-01T20:41:00.000-08:002012-04-01T20:41:47.633-08:00Not Fooling<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which our Heroine experiences a Spring, of Sorts.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Travelogue: Alaska.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dear nephews and nieces in Phoenix, </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen snow before, so I thought I’d
let you in on a little secret:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have A
LOT of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve included some pictures
below, so you can see what my outdoor life is like—at least in part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The last few weeks have been beautiful here in Alaska. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cold snap is over for now, and it is a
relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This winter was LONG.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the second snowiest winter ever
recorded in Anchorage, actually.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
there’s still time for this year to make the number one spot—it is only April
1, after all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Am I fooling around?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Here are some photos to prove it:</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih_6UqE8JcNNH6wobcM2XTIYeJMzttmxqj-7D1Fgv1SwPPJlDwWVyFbBLlViUdxDldSTdOr2CqMo9dX79MJDo6OClVupRhKgLvdRWg2QJ4LF_UkCcBJPaHQl6gnxmn28rE01Qh62nK3Q/s1600/P1040964.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih_6UqE8JcNNH6wobcM2XTIYeJMzttmxqj-7D1Fgv1SwPPJlDwWVyFbBLlViUdxDldSTdOr2CqMo9dX79MJDo6OClVupRhKgLvdRWg2QJ4LF_UkCcBJPaHQl6gnxmn28rE01Qh62nK3Q/s320/P1040964.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg5t1fM6RjTEpr0qQ7RfA0q1LZHqwaSiBV-SAYrx1cD5c8c6KhQ2jUGEQG1X-Il2avsYD0leqdNdYrX8_oCa3A7QCUgHfUrej-nmeKCzZ43cdxVcq3jgtutc0BhP2sVASYhC1piZH0sw/s1600/P1040981.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg5t1fM6RjTEpr0qQ7RfA0q1LZHqwaSiBV-SAYrx1cD5c8c6KhQ2jUGEQG1X-Il2avsYD0leqdNdYrX8_oCa3A7QCUgHfUrej-nmeKCzZ43cdxVcq3jgtutc0BhP2sVASYhC1piZH0sw/s320/P1040981.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This is Eva helping me to dig out her play equipment on the
back deck a few days ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The snow is
deceptive—it was actually about 55 degrees in that sheltered and sunny part of
my backyard that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So warm!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem with clearing off the deck is
that the snow has to go somewhere, and my snow-throwing range is short, so… now
we can’t get off the deck area anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The snow is too high.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQH7zeS0h-muyxEi7vJ1-StadXohjtCgznkKBQwEkmZbK9ksCbUsDfTmN5GfRvSjUXS58R4g1PkYbvgau0C8a_52sbHXW7K3SKdO9_W8cwbV8xMZ1s_4clfem4NFF7Y3nPmMc6DmwLiw/s1600/P1040972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQH7zeS0h-muyxEi7vJ1-StadXohjtCgznkKBQwEkmZbK9ksCbUsDfTmN5GfRvSjUXS58R4g1PkYbvgau0C8a_52sbHXW7K3SKdO9_W8cwbV8xMZ1s_4clfem4NFF7Y3nPmMc6DmwLiw/s320/P1040972.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There’s so much melt-down going on that it sounds like it is
constantly raining: (molto allegro and staccato: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">drip
drip drip drip drip drip drip</i>.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Also, the snow on the roof is starting to slide down, so now we have 2
rows of icicles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pretty sure my crawl
space will be flooding this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuX54_i5d4cAK4wnDVZC86jO9D4HH7jytEMJUQs_-y-OswAFPC9uk9XUB6_F7PGyf099q8xRRXyy7uspSMo7BD0YpQKf9OLFVJO4lYVa2XM5M1Z9r7MdJBYw2j-pYYOjqPsudXxq9fQA/s1600/P1040998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuX54_i5d4cAK4wnDVZC86jO9D4HH7jytEMJUQs_-y-OswAFPC9uk9XUB6_F7PGyf099q8xRRXyy7uspSMo7BD0YpQKf9OLFVJO4lYVa2XM5M1Z9r7MdJBYw2j-pYYOjqPsudXxq9fQA/s320/P1040998.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A history of our winter shown here: In December we had 4 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chinooks</i> (warm winds from Japan that
thaw stuff temporarily).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then it got
really cold and snowed and snowed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
used to waking in the middle of the night to the sound of GIGANTIC snow
plows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Seriously, they’re like the
stuff of little kid’s nightmares).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
snow gets plowed into the middle of the street, and then a GIANT snow blower
shoots it all into dump trucks, which take it to one of a number of city snow dump
spots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If these snow mountains don’t
melt this year, can we call them glaciers?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Dear nephew A, you should come to AK and get a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">summer</i> job shoveling snow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ha Ha.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizTn5wTDTh-V_3iMzy4yYmsLbi07OY-yKyXSsxl0dMaUpS5iJX8uLZIJGqeFo0oK4iMt3RXIH2rm6gaZPe3ZGxI2o07fIQXLmnS5Qox-nIuRPrAIS_Ikx3k9dq69gY9iOrWAtrzVhQqw/s1600/P1050002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizTn5wTDTh-V_3iMzy4yYmsLbi07OY-yKyXSsxl0dMaUpS5iJX8uLZIJGqeFo0oK4iMt3RXIH2rm6gaZPe3ZGxI2o07fIQXLmnS5Qox-nIuRPrAIS_Ikx3k9dq69gY9iOrWAtrzVhQqw/s320/P1050002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Present left by the neighborhood moose about an hour
ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because moose and sometimes black
bears live in the suburbs too, apparently.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDndqD75QMw3xofJks5_daqhxJsatrTCKCIBy6IXuMSZA_Y3Un_Ce5SNhdF1A2FGyYbFKJ1LgH4WrV9bXXiFG_CrhXmjkbIGKsRFhMaaSB-FA3gzH4Po7iFRJl9kwQzVAD3riHbKr12w/s1600/P1050006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDndqD75QMw3xofJks5_daqhxJsatrTCKCIBy6IXuMSZA_Y3Un_Ce5SNhdF1A2FGyYbFKJ1LgH4WrV9bXXiFG_CrhXmjkbIGKsRFhMaaSB-FA3gzH4Po7iFRJl9kwQzVAD3riHbKr12w/s320/P1050006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh, and by the way, I DO NOT LIVE OUT IN THE BUSH!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here in Alaska, our little family lives in a
normal townhouse (not an igloo).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We even
own a TV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, we do use ice cleats
on our boots on occasion, and popular outdoor activities here include snow-shoeing
and skiing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spring-time holidays like
St. Patrick’s and Easter are a little funny since there’s still snow
everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Jon has been known to
wield a pick axe/ice-chipper come springtime to dig off the 6 inches of ice
build-up on our driveway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes,
when we back out of our garage, the car slides into the road and people swear
at us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, and we DO NOT live in the
dark for 6 whole months of the year. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
fact, tonight the sun will go down around 8:50 pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah… life in Alaska<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">, so misunderstood</i>, but also kind of funny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-87884392816613574982012-03-12T14:26:00.000-08:002012-03-12T14:38:41.162-08:00Tara the Heroine, Detective<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which our Heroine goes Gumshoe.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Jazzy music plays
softly in the background as city lights slant into the office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The office is spare—containing only a desk,
two moth-eaten chairs, and a double-locked filing cabinet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Backwards on the door’s window in white
letters read: <span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;">Tara
the Heroine, Detective</span>.) </span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tara monologues in a New York accent: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There I was, sitting with my feet up on the desk, innocently and might
I say successfully evading the periodic knocks of the landlord as I read the
Times in the waning light of the sunset.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Rent was hard to come by these days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I could hardly afford to keep my fedora, let alone my office. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was hungry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I wanted a pie from the diner around the corner and a job to keep me
going another week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Either that or I
needed to get out of town—and quick.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">(The door handle rattles as someone tries to push through
into the office. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tara jumps under the
desk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An older woman with short brown
hair and sensible shoes walks in.)</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Lady inquires politely but determinedly: “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hello?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m looking for the detective.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
have a job and an airplane ticket for you.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Monologue continues: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cripes!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This woman looked like my mother!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And she knew I was there too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, nothing to do but come out… <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Ah…hello… I was just
looking for my pencil there under the desk…”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Lady quirks her eyebrow up and issues a cold smile: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps you’re not the person I was looking for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I demand absolute honesty in all my
dealings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll just see myself out.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tara, with desperation: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Look
Lady, I’m not proud, but you can’t be too careful in this town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now why don’t you sit down and give me the
score.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She sits. The Lady’s eyes begin to tear up. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Its just… I’ve lost my daughter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She can’t seem to find her way home—perhaps she
doesn’t remember how? </i>(Sniffle)<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need you to track her down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are some things in my basement that might
help you—boxes of old junk, really—but you’ll be needing to see it if you have
a hope of finding her.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tara monologues: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And
just like that I was hired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next
plane to Idaho left at midnight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">By midmorning I was
going through crates of STUFF.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Honestly,
what good was all of this trash?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
in for a long day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was in the girl’s
box of old dolls that I found my first clue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All the dolls seemed familiar—but especially the cabbage patch doll, and
a little number with blue flower-print skin named Trixie. Good name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d had a best friend with the same name
once. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite the mess, I was beginning
to feel quite at home here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I kept searching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Photos of a cute kid with a mass of wavy hair
and bad teeth, Barbie dolls with accessories still included, a slap-stick
bracelet, a 2 inch model of a six-shooter, and 3 ½ inch disks badly organized
and dubiously printed with the occasional: “My disk.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all seemed so familiar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Boy, the cogs were
turning now, folks. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was really
detecting. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An idea popped into my head:
Was this mine???<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I distinctly remembered playing with these
toys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that girl in the photos—well,
big hair and all—that had to be me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
hard to believe because I felt so removed from it now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was hardly the same person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing for it, I’d have to go through the
rest of the boxes tonight or I’s get no respite. I HAD to prove that all this
stuff was the detritus of my previous life. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next several boxes
were labeled “College Ceramics.” Piece by piece, I set them out in a row on the
floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here’s a curious thing, I hardly
remembered half of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe this wasn’t
me at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a Raku piece that I
swear I’d never touched before—it just couldn’t be me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when I turned it over, there was my name
scored into the underside with the date, ’01.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, that would place me at Junior College.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, I still remember doing Raku at good old
Ricks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there—I remembered that
graceful vase—a bit of mastery if I do say so myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And my teacher at BYU, Von, grunting and
saying that at least if I had to do a boring vase it was better than most of
the designs the kids came up with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
remembered that compliments were hard to come by when you did pottery instead
of sculptural ceramics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well, I had to admit
it, it was all mine—even if I still had no memory of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’d think after crafting it with my own
hands, going through the shaping, bisque firing, and then glazing process, that
some of this would stick a little better.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Lady comes down to check on the detective, offering a
plate of fried chicken. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Did you find
her?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good, now you can help me get rid of all this
stuff!”</i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s a queer thing
trying to decide which piece of pottery to keep and which to throw out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must confess that some were pathetically easy
because they were both ugly and apparently unmemorable.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fiction?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not
entirely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really did got through my
old junk down in my Mom’s basement while on vacation last month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of the details, and all of the emotions
are real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have often compared my mind
to a double-locked filing cabinet with a bad organizational system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, I do not own an office in the city,
nor do I owe rent to a grumpy landlord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But my mother did feed me some excellent fried chicken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-210081428331513462012-02-28T20:58:00.000-09:002012-02-28T20:58:36.951-09:00Solar-Powered Villain<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which our Heroine/Villain returns.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A week ago I returned from visiting family in Idaho and
Utah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The visit—lasting 22 days total—was
just long enough that I walked off the plane and into the Ted Stephens Airport
here in Anchorage at what was 2 am Mountain Standard Time with a broad smile on
my face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What can I say?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m a sap and I missed my husband enough that
I’m willing to take all that airport-related exhaustion as well as the tons of
snow that awaited me outside with a smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lovely family visit—but it feels great to be home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of you out there did not even know I was
flying out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kept it that way on
purpose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mums the word. Literally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As in, the purpose of my visit was mostly to
spend time with my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mother</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Therefore I didn’t hare off into any wild
adventures with old friends or exotic locales, etc…</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But—I did manage to get a sun-burn one Saturday afternoon in
Idaho (oh excitement).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun was
really shining my first week there and with temperatures in the 40s, it felt
nearly tropical to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Anchorage has
had a really cold, snowy, gray winter—far worse than usual).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, every time I went outside, I bent my
neck and turned my shoulders like a flower so I could get the sun on my preternaturally
pale face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve noticed that
non-fake-baker Alaskans all have the white glow to their faces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seriously—we stand out in photos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, I have the Alaskan pale mixed with
my usual pastiness vs. burnt-crispy cycle with which to contend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I ended up with a really hot face for
about 2 days and nothing to show for it afterward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was glorious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And now I am sure of the truth: It turns out that I am
solar-powered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite sleep deprivation
and a feverishly hot face, I found myself FULL of energy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Any time the sun shone, I felt like I could
move mountains!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s just possible that
I am actually a superhero in a sadly successful disguise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All that remains is to identify my super
abilities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ve got to have something
to do with fantastically warped brain cells that are somehow fueled by UV rays…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wait…um…well… now that I’ve written it down,
it’s fairly clear that I’m not meant for any league of heroes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure that mutation
of brain cells and inability to tan properly actually puts me in the villain
category.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My seizure medication: odd
chemicals purposefully put into my body twice a day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Just
drop me in a vat of toxic waste!!!</i>) Long torso, short legs: the opposite of
Wonder Woman’s figure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Difficulty using
left hand: unbalanced, clearly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well,
rats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There goes my future in wearing underwear
on the outside of my skin-tight neon colored suit, billowy capes, go-go boots,
and the pushiest-up of all push-up bras.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m really going to have to rework my résumé .</span></div>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-6932640549613655382012-01-18T14:11:00.000-09:002012-01-18T14:11:34.316-09:00The Results Are In<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which our Heroine feels a Palpable Relief.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Apparently, seizures are a fairly normal phenomenon in the
neurological world—mundane enough when combined with a clean MRI, anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, that’s right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After once again going through a total freak-out
session before getting the results of my tests back (I’m beginning to see a
pattern here), I have been given a clean(ish) bill of health.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will go back to the doctor in six months
(not three!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My MRI scans are
good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, my medical history indicates
that I am not really that prone to seizures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This fact, combined with my forgetfulness at taking my medication on
time, etc… means that I don’t even have to change my medication right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>HOWEVER, if I have another seizure in the
next 6 months of any kind, then I will call my doc immediately and increase my
Keppra dosage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But if I don’t, then I
may be able to go completely off of any anti-convulsants in six months!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please do keep your fingers crossed on my
behalf!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The relief, as stated above, is palpable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I have hope—which is such a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good</i> thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing I’m wondering now is how I’ll
really be if/when I go completely off brain-altering drugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You think I jest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because really, there aren’t many excuses
left for me at that point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here’s a
snapshot of my life in six months: </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Memory?</i> Present
and accounted for, if I remember correctly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Personality issues?</i>
Functioning well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You be the judge. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Forgetfulness?</i> I
am like the proverbial elephant. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fatigue?</i> Must be based on other reasons
entirely. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lack of coordination?</i>
Did I ever really have a hope with this?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fine motor skills?</i>
Good penmanship is overvalued by third grade teachers everywhere.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">General weakness in
limbs?</i> Opening jars is severely overrated.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Confused?</i> Who isn’t, these days?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Upset stomach from
taking Keppra without food?</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gone,
hopefully.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the sooner, the
better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-60346329658416846522012-01-16T17:15:00.000-09:002012-01-16T17:19:37.637-09:00Difficulties<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which our Heroine goes off the Deep-end.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A week and a half ago—on Wednesday, January fourth at about
11:30 A.M., to be exact—I had what I believe is a tonic-clonic seizure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have avoided writing about the incident,
because I am frankly so bummed about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The day it happened ended up being a bad, bad day because I could only
focus on the worst of all the reasons it might have happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In other words, I thought for sure that I had
some nasty tumor growing back. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The fear was compounded by the fact that I have been tired
lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This could be for any number of reasons:
Christmas stress, bad sleep patterns, my child—who has stopped taking naps,
meaning that I get no rest during the day, unhealthy foods that always seem to
creep into my house, the 4 pieces of delicious See’s candy I ate the night
before…etc…</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In retrospect, I believe my somewhat hysterical reaction a
symptom of my nearly complete lack of knowledge about seizures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other than a few weird, little eye-twitches
that occasionally reached down to the mouth on the left side of my face, my
first seizure was the biggie that sent me to the ER.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Naturally, I have no recollection of this
event, and so cannot compare it with my latest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After surgery, I had some odd numbing and loss of feeling that extended
down the left side of my body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s
what landed me with a prescription for the anti-convulsant Keppra (aka Levetiracetum).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this seizure—oh, it was different.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, there I was, doing leg-lifts in time with the most
grandma of all work-out videos (seriously, I have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">scoured</i> our local library’s collection in search of the workout
that I can do at home even on the yuckiest-feeling days).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was on the beginning marches of the
cool-down phase (barely sweaty at all) when my muscles tensed oddly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The perky woman with big hair on screen
changed to a new set of steps, and I tried too, but the muscles on either sides
of my body wouldn’t obey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a couple
of counts, my limbs were following the old routine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s when I knew something was wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My thoughts were incredibly slow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to deliberately try to stop lifting my
arms in the air (my legs were already down).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now I was shaking uncontrollably—huge jerky movements that made no sense
to my slow-as-molasses thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In normal circumstances, what would I do if
interrupted?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why, push the stop button
on the blue-ray of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So that’s
what I tried to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you know how hard
it is to press a finger to a tiny touch-screen symbol when you’re jerking all
over the place?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just use your
imagination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My whole body was racking
with spasms, my legs shaking under me when I finally realized that this goal of
mine was useless and I needed to do something else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ironically, it was the downward motion of
being done that got the work-out video turned off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I turned around and found myself in a
slow-minded struggle between looking at the clock and realizing I’d forgotten
to take the Keppra, and also knowing that the couch would be a good place to
ride this thing out—whatever it was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was like one of those I-can’t-run-fast-and-get-away nightmares.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It took me a really long time to get to the door of the kitchen—too
long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But by then I had learned that my
mind could only handle one simple task at a time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I focused on the water glass by the
sink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then on my right hand picking it
up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then shuffling sideways two small steps
to the faucet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s when I had the crystal-
clear thought that if I took a deep breath, I would be able to calm down enough
to stop shaking and take my medicine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
worked, and by the time I was fishing my medicine bottle out of the cupboard, I
was down to only a slight shakiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Then</i> I went to lay on the couch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In answer to the questions, no I did not call the
doctor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I already had appointments set
up for an MRI (last week) and on Wednesday the 18<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>, the neurosurgeon’s
PA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt good about the decision at
the time and still do.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All things considered, I think I handled myself very, very
well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Knowing my personality as drama
queen extraordinaire, and the extreme depression I tend to feel whenever I
think of my chronically cancerous self—I am quite certain that I had a little
extra help from God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He calmed me and
put thoughts in my nearly-useless mind that got me where I needed to go. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Directly afterward, I had a hard time
recognizing this, and really lost it for the rest of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have also had my down moments on occasion
since then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing that shakes
me out of this is listening to good old MOTAB and reading my scriptures and
patriarchal blessing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mainly, I have been depressed about the idea of dealing with
any kind of possible future treatment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why can’t the miracle of being kind-of-well
just continue</i>, I think to myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But there may be other reasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
read online about how sometimes Keppra induces tonic-clonic seizures when taken
over a course of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could this be
it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope so, even though it brings up
a host of new issues (especially since I want to have another child someday
soon).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Medication + pregnancy =
suckiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a friend who took “safe”
anti-convulsants when pregnant and now has children with learning
disabilities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would really like to not
have ANY weird chemicals in my system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another goal I have no real
control over.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thankfully, I have largely regained my composure over the
last week—finally remembering what I had to learn back when I was first
diagnosed with cancer: that what happens, happens—and all I can do is deal with
it with patience and grace (in such small amounts as I have). </span></div>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-27315034960805325022011-12-28T19:53:00.001-09:002011-12-28T19:53:35.373-09:00The Christmas Shovel<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which our Heroine makes a Mistake, and then gets Another Chance.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This year for Christmas Jon and I decided we would like to
do the “Twelve Days of Christmas” thing for a family in our church ward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Long story short: we had trouble finding the
address and then wondered if maybe they were leaving town anyway (because this couple’s
children are in another state right now—and although I don’t know the
situation, I thought they might be able to go see them).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Laziness took over from there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On Christmas Eve, I wondered if they’d had
enough money to buy each other gifts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
considered dropping off some cash or something—just a card even.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I forgot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I saw one of the people in the family on Sunday at church, I could
have kicked myself hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had failed to
follow through on a prompting to help someone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So much for surviving cancer because I had a purpose in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gharrrgh!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I made a resolution to do better next time.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fortunately, God is merciful.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Not twenty minutes ago, a family of four came to my door and
asked to shovel my driveway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They said
they would take any donation at all, even small, as they were losing their
house soon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here’s the thing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never</i>
let any of the neighbor kids shovel our driveway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They ask for a whopping 20 bucks and I’ve
learned that they do a substandard job most of the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not like Jon and I are rolling in the
dough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But tonight, as stood at my
chilly front door (13 degrees Fahrenheit), I looked behind the father I saw a
little girl bundled up in a pink snow suit with a shovel, and this time I
couldn’t say no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I wandered into the kitchen to the sound of shovels banging
and snow being crunched outside my house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What would I pay them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took
down our supply of “just in case” cash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I kept it in a poinsettia-decorated card/money folder from a 2009
Christmas present from my brother Mike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
spread the money out on the counter-top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My initial plan was to go with a 20, but then I thought, “I’ll pray
about it.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Along with the prayer, I had
the duel thought of: “I need this money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What if they use it unwisely? Or what if they’re not even telling me the
truth?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I did not get a sure answer from my prayer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I did have the thought that generosity
never goes awry for the giver, regardless of what these unknowns would use the
money for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remembered that last year,
someone very anonymous generously gave my family some cash, and I felt so
loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely, I could do the same?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I pulled the twenty in front of me—no, not enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made it thirty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Sigh)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Fifty. Fifty-eight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yikes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In one quick motion I grabbed the hundred
(with Ben Franklin smirking at me on the front) and threw another fifty into my
brother’s old Christmas envelope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
still had his handwriting on it: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“This
packs better for the plane! LOL”</i> </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“It’s okay,” I told myself, “You still have a few minutes to
decide whether to really do this.” Hah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The doorbell rang almost as soon as I had the thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I went with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave the guy the envelope and he left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But I
didn’t</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I closed the door and crouched
on the bench by the skinny front window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When the huge snow bank got between my view and their car, I s<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tood</i> on the bench.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I had to leap off really fast because
all at once the whole family came running out of their sedan and back to my
front door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They were all smiles when I nonchalantly answered a while later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They told me I really made a difference. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wow, I felt so good as I learned their names
(Tyler, Lila, etc, and etc), and let them know that I wished them well. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ooooh (shiver-happy).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Warm and fuzzy<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still feel so warm and fuzzy!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somebody wipe this idiot grin off my
face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m telling you, these people gave
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i> the Christmas gift of all time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now wish me luck explaining what I’ve done to
my husband when he gets home from Scouts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<br /></div>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-34532363805003493972011-12-13T18:54:00.003-09:002011-12-13T18:54:55.391-09:00The Winter Garden<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which our Heroine turns Greenwitch.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Here are a few photos of the indoor garden I’ve been working
on, along with a little history in story-book format. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once upon a time, I had this crazy idea that I
could grow some fresh greens and herbs during the fall and winter in Alaska.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What brilliance!” I thought to myself. “I’m
sure I’ll save scads of money on lettuce (which tends to look wilted and slimy
in most stores at winter), plus I’ll have a fun hobby, all season long!” I also
thought of the perk of being able to start seeds in the early spring to get a
jump on those short Alaskan summers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
thought of the awesomeness of starting something brand new and of doing yet
another crazy experiment—an occupation much loved by <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">moi</i>, except for all those times when such experiment fails.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To continue to tale:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Once upon a time, a beautiful maiden began growing lettuce, parsley, and
other such wonders inside her snug cottage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This mythical maiden was known far and wide for her green thumb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she soon found that light was needed as
fall faded into winter, and the girl was poor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Turning to her magic mirror, she cried, “Mirror, mirror on the wall, can
you give me sunlight at all?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much to
her surprise, the beautiful girl was taken up in a cloud of fairy dust and magically
whisked into her local Home Depot, where stood a vast assortment of fluorescent
lighting as well as some inexpensive shop lights, which she duly set up on wire
shelving in a sunny spare bedroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
would these cheap lights work? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only time
would tell…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The second day, early in the morning, the maiden arose to
check on her seeds and the wondrous new lights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A miracle had happened!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dry,
hard seeds had been replaced by small seedlings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How magical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But in the afternoon, an evil sorcerer sent a plague of locusts (whiteflies
and aphids) and the seedlings withered and died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The maiden would have liked to feel morose
and to have a tantrum, but she was too innocent and sweet for such
nonsense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, the lovely girl
scattered new seeds and went to bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the morning, she looked into her little kingdom of flora,
and—once again, she found that elves had come in the night and replaced the
seeds with tiny plants!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time, the
maiden found a secret potion to keep the evil sorcerer and his demonic minions
at bay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The plants grew and grew until
they were large enough to serve in many a magical dish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the maiden, her prince Charming, and
small fry lived happily ever after.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Translation of magical objects in the fairy tale and other
things of note:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">1. The Potion: Brammer’s Peppermint Soap will keep just
about any pest away, whether indoor or out in the garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have since learned that my grandmother
poured the dregs of her dishwater over her garden plants every morning way back
in the day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">2. Magical lights: plain old fluorescent bulbs stuck in 4 ft
long shop lights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is probable that
the really expensive “grow” lights work better, but these work too, as long as
the top of the plants stay within 2-4 inches of the bulb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I use a simple, and pretty ugly system of
boxes to put the shorter plants up higher when needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">3.Elvin-grown seedlings: I have experimented with romaine,
butterhead, Greenleaf, and redleaf lettuces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The redleaf is best so far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All
herbs seem to work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both lettuce and
herb get leggy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My banana sweet pepper
is a surprise success, and my bok choi is a steady hit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spinach is a fail—I don’t know why—but three
tries and its out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someday, I will get seeds
for carrot, radish, summer squash, etc and will try those out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m really only in the beginning stages of an
all-consuming project here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ll see
what happens next.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">4. “Poor” maiden: Not as cost effective as I would have
liked, and the vegetables grow slowly—but it is one of my favorite random
experiments to date.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there’s nothing
like having fresh parsley and basil whenever I want it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also look forward to having an early start
on spring in a few months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am hoping
that seeding everything myself will save a lot of money!</span></div>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-31189650592424631262011-12-07T19:40:00.001-09:002011-12-07T19:53:56.081-09:00Say Nothing<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 2pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In
which our Heroine begins again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I quit writing my blog in
June, I determined that I would only let it lie for the duration of summer
because I was so busy learning how to garden (among other things).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When fall came, I found that my “summer
projects” could be taken indoors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
continued the autumnal bliss of harvesting, and even seed-planting, near sunny
windows for several months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When my enormous
tomato plants somehow got outdoor bugs while inside the house, I threw them out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought to myself: “is it time to blog
again?” But then I bought some shop-lights and began lettuce and herbs beneath
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this juncture, I told myself
that I would surely begin writing again soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Goals notwithstanding, the blog dwindled into near-nothingness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Christmas began to creep closer, and—literally—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that’s all she wrote</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least for a good long while.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But today, I finally logged in and
checked my stats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To my surprise, people
are still reading—not too often or regularly—but still.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got a handful of nice comments on past
posts, and even a request for further contact from a person in like situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I notice too that my most popular post is the
one on the anti-convulsant that I take called Keppra.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope to write more on this at a later
date.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides my continued readership, I
do want to continue writing because there are times when I am fairly bursting
with literary energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a lot to
say. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In addition to the nice comments of which I
spoke earlier, I am also the privileged recipient of a few very nasty ones, which
were obviously meant to hurt me personally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For a few moments after reading these, I felt my heart as a bloody cut
of red meat served on a spiked platter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had written what I thought were—and still believe to be—truthful
memories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am sorry that some
disagree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not mean to hurt anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These “anonymous” comments are now deleted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I respectfully ask that those commentators
keep their cutting remarks to themselves in the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please do not soil my efforts at creative
therapy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In return, I will make an
effort at increased discretion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
removed these two apparently controversial posts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> For those of you who liked the posts and wanted to see more, I apologize and thank you for your support. To all of you, both friend and foe: </span>I don't consider this a defeat. I merely do not want these <em>meanies</em> and all their small-hearted friends coming to my blog for any reason.<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>Moral of the story: Sometimes its best to say
nothing at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Saying “nothing at all” is really
hard for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in the unenviable choice
between dishonesty and silence, I choose to shut-my-mouth/delete-some-of-my-blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess I’ll have to replace it with some
other stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> May the scar tissue on my heart be infinately smaller than that located on my head. Sticks and stones, baby. Sticks. And. Stones. S</span>o, with a bit of an
emotional hiccup, my saga continues…</span></div>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-3526641172031778422011-06-22T21:56:00.000-08:002011-06-22T21:56:12.533-08:00I'm Still Here, World<div style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">In which Stuff Happens, and i don’t write much about it.</span> </div><div style="text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Just reporting in to let you know I’m still alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the warmth and green of summer beckoning me outdoors so constantly, I find that I have little inclination to sit down and write.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am busy cooking, cleaning, and mothering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have begun many new adventures in the art of bread/pasta/yoghurt/rice milk making.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Successes all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Additionally, I have finally mastered—no, conquered—the art of the seed sprout, after many failed attempts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It turns out that my wheat berries were bad, or unsproutable anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If any of you out there are interested in such random acts of healthiness, I highly suggest you look into this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They don’t take a lot of effort once you get the hang of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And they are so tasty and healthy—way better than a multi-vitamin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I remember, I’ll come back to this topic in later days.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In my gardening adventures I find myself wondering more and more why I felt the need to try this tomato thing so much—they aren’t happy being almost rained to death here in good old Anchorage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Part of the problem may be that as I ruminate on the immanent failure of my tomatoes, I end up looking right over their unhappy shaggy shoulders and my glance falls directly on the most beautiful spinach, bok choy, kale, and broccoli leaves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are lush, full, healthy, and thriving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank goodness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It does make me feel better about the whole nearly-dead tomato thing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And, my child is suddenly a playground prodigy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today she managed a ladder, went down a tall curly slide, and climbed up the side of a jungle gym, all while wearing the girly dress she insisted on today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I caught her (gently) dumping rocks onto the head of the little boy who taught her all of these impressive moves, I was almost proud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She’s actually acting like a normal 2 year old at the playground!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe—just maybe—her days of whiny, tantrum, hold onto Mom’s legs days are over!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that I want her to throw rocks at other kids, exactly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Also, here are some more impressive photos of the wildlife at Denali:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f"><stroke joinstyle="miter"></stroke><formulas><f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"></f><f eqn="sum @0 1 0"></f><f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"></f><f eqn="prod @2 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @0 0 1"></f><f eqn="prod @6 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"></f></formulas><path gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect" o:extrusionok="f"></path><lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit"></lock></shapetype></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRgfiqZBLmumNxp7zj4zeLgVVpL-PwJwFzC2nI4D94IbXohtzqVet3QV3L5p0PCdvXIQDo9p6XcdBRUftJD3qwYTc_lPsbnHySMtK9VcI1APiYpSrVkqIXfVaNe-gFrtbLWBqJ7TojLA/s1600/P1040102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRgfiqZBLmumNxp7zj4zeLgVVpL-PwJwFzC2nI4D94IbXohtzqVet3QV3L5p0PCdvXIQDo9p6XcdBRUftJD3qwYTc_lPsbnHySMtK9VcI1APiYpSrVkqIXfVaNe-gFrtbLWBqJ7TojLA/s320/P1040102.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7nFa_LSv1q8Px3V1PbZDgWMRszM18IvS88_4xlAuGWb4xLHRvbDbD1owNjEdHG4k5d7rOyTKIfu6ga1omiBHTSnTJDXhomZsxYxMi_QX-Kvw4-0Ky27vd6aNv_IywOO3BidQpiP6FXg/s1600/P1040163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7nFa_LSv1q8Px3V1PbZDgWMRszM18IvS88_4xlAuGWb4xLHRvbDbD1owNjEdHG4k5d7rOyTKIfu6ga1omiBHTSnTJDXhomZsxYxMi_QX-Kvw4-0Ky27vd6aNv_IywOO3BidQpiP6FXg/s320/P1040163.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tolkat bears: the only place where they come as true blondes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Notice that spring had only just arrived by the end of May.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_YscOg5vdQNiwgCTnU-3eh-WjJNbJBlTB16_4og2e_OJOqf32NssBGDIMJ4AaOmTbrsUk5_cR569mGKPXjCB7xFb9E8P30f4teI5w1OuNR3Sxv5iCpxHFVyUAvqNuCWiNYcR-hAJBg/s1600/P1040175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_YscOg5vdQNiwgCTnU-3eh-WjJNbJBlTB16_4og2e_OJOqf32NssBGDIMJ4AaOmTbrsUk5_cR569mGKPXjCB7xFb9E8P30f4teI5w1OuNR3Sxv5iCpxHFVyUAvqNuCWiNYcR-hAJBg/s320/P1040175.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE1WVQpLZ0v3DiUbd9eyJ_LEIH9frYZSkKt5V2tyr-YGSQ3QqLNAV0oAbPEy73WRAOT7niG6qrK3uILjTvTCq77_UyMkvem6I06-wwVts_lNj5pMWYRjI452XmRxshQjBjQRwDs7DV_g/s1600/P1040071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE1WVQpLZ0v3DiUbd9eyJ_LEIH9frYZSkKt5V2tyr-YGSQ3QqLNAV0oAbPEy73WRAOT7niG6qrK3uILjTvTCq77_UyMkvem6I06-wwVts_lNj5pMWYRjI452XmRxshQjBjQRwDs7DV_g/s320/P1040071.JPG" width="236" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> <span style="font-family: Calibri;">I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bad joke.</span></div>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-65612135192115712942011-06-14T11:57:00.000-08:002011-06-14T11:57:13.695-08:00How to NOT Potty-train Your Child<div style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">In which our Heroine’s Child defecates in her Bathwater</span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div style="text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Over the past month I have gotten into the lamentable habit of letting my child sit in the bathtub every morning for 30-40 minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During these coveted few moments I turn into a whirlwind of motion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I start laundry, do the dishes, make bread, sweep, vacuum, or any number of activities that are easier without Eva’s help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This works for me because Eva greatly dislikes getting her head wet, so I can trust that drowning won’t come easily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides, I stay nearby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During my convalescence last fall, my mother taught me the free-babysitting bathtub trick, to which I have directed many a grateful thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Or, maybe not so “free.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moral: there is always a price to pay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I was happily folding laundry when my child began screaming “Poopy, poopy, poopy,” at the top of her lungs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sudden visions of the worst burst into my mind as I sprinted up the steep half-flight of stairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure enough, it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everywhere</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, everywhere in the water anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First thought: “That’s a lot of poop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does she do this normally?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How does it all fit in her diaper?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Second thought: “I hate cleaning the tub.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then, surely one of the most ironic dilemmas in the history of mankind: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Where do I put my unsanitary child while I sanitize the unsanitary bathtub that should be used to </i>(you guessed it) <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sanitize said child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Later I would wonder which toys were actually in the tub at the time of defecation, and which she tried to save and put away in the basket herself (because she is the kind of child who would).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Eva was fascinated by actually seeing her poop in action for once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was also (thankfully) repulsed by it and understood that playing with it was NOT desirable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps she noticed the putrid smell emanating from the warm waters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I certainly did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sense of smell is particularly acute due to the whole tumor-in-head thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eva’s been interested in toilets for a long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The signs are there—I need to get going on this potty-training excercise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s a problem, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no idea how to actually do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, I have a lot of diapers still (darn Costco box!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh—and the under-developed, adolescent part of myself has manifested, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I don’t want to</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, another part of me is reminded that I’ll be cleaning up a lot more excrement in the end if I don’t suffer the inevitable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Hats off to my sister-in-law Michelle, who once tried to bathe her three children all at the same time in my puny college apartment’s bathtub.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My terrible memory may be embellishing a few details, but here’s what I remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eli’s tattle-tale voice: “Mom! McKinley just pooped in the bathtub!” and Logan’s accompanying “Eww!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And from small McKinley, a giggle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poor Michelle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has recently written on Facebook that she is finally done with diapers, after a combined total of ten and a half years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, the moral: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There is always a price to pay.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2768615119676131383.post-55262585689237255732011-06-08T21:19:00.000-08:002011-06-08T21:19:35.764-08:00Birthday Girl<div style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">In which our Heroine turns Thirty</span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div style="text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I will confess that most of the time, the wishes I make as I blow out the candles are quickly made up, ill-thought out, and fairly useless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are split-second decisions that will probably have no bearing on my life, so I just go through the motions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year, as I focused on the single candle aglow atop my sprinkled cupcake, I decided to make a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real</i> wish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted it to be one that mattered and that would have some kind of magical power in changing my life for the better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps it was the 15 primary-aged children who surrounded me at our ward’s park day that brought on my sudden belief in the enduring magical powers of a cheap candle, perhaps it was the bright sun, or maybe it was the kindness of my friends in providing me with a sugary reason to celebrate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever the case, I threw my birthday wish out into the wind, “Let this year be full of good health and happy moments.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, more or less, since I was thinking less in words and more in emotions: a big bubble of happiness rising around me and my cupcake.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dear Self,</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Good job on making it through a rough year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was tough at times, but you're a trooper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Love, </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Me</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 4.5pt; tab-stops: 4.5pt; text-indent: 0in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">P.S. I think you’re swell.</span></i></div>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07845005691821296202noreply@blogger.com1