Utah

I am in Utah with Paul for the week.  He has family here and we're just hanging out, eating, playing games, drinking and sightseeing.  We've had Christmas and we're going to have a New Year's Eve party.  These people know how to party.  It's a very good time.

We're in a small town outside of Salt Lake City.  The geography here is so new to me.  For one, this is my first time in Utah. I'm used to traveling through states where I've lived and I know basically where the major cities are and what their suburbs are.  That is not the case here.  Also, I'm used to mountainous regions being to the west.  Here, we're in the middle of Utah Valley and there are mountains all the way around us.  Another thing -- we're right next to the Wasatch Range.  It's kind of odd to look up and see a mountain peak soaring 11,000 feet above me.  In Denver, you're so far away from the mountains that you can't get a real sense of how big they are.  And once you get closer, the foothills are so huge that you've lost sight of the mountain peaks and still can't see how tall they are.  So this perspective on mountains is quite breathtaking.  I'm loving it.

Last night we took the UTA Trax system into Salt Lake City to see the lights at Temple Square.  I took lots of pictures.  I am, by no means, a photographer and my camera is rather puny but last night we worked quite well together.  I got some good shots that I'm pleased with, especially considering the lighting that was available.

Here's the inside of the train.  They are nearly identical to the Light Rail cars in Denver so I felt right at home.  This particular train was pretty empty.

Some of the scenery out of the train windows.  I was kind of excited to go to Sandy.  You see, one of my favorite television shows is the HBO series, Big Love.  It's set in Sandy, Utah and I thought that Sandy was a fictional place until Paul told me it is, indeed, a real town.  Not only is it a real place, that's where we got on the train.  So I had to take a photo of this sign.

This is the shopping center where we got coffee before walking to Temple Square.  It's pretty and it has lots of cool shops in it.  If I appreciated shopping and crowds more, I'd probably really enjoy a place like this.  But I don't so it's mostly good for people watching and coffee sipping.  And photo snapping.

A pretty cool mural in the Union Pacific Train Station.  I love real train stations -- you know the ones where people can get on an Amtrak train and it takes them hundreds of miles away, overnight with dining cars and sleeping berths and stuff.  All of them are old and very cool with granite floors and big, carved wood moldings and these cool murals.

A cautionary piece of advice that is posted at almost all street corners.  It made me giggle.

Some other cool shots of downtown Salt Lake City.  It's very pretty and there is a lot of striking architecture.  I was just in awe.  I think Christmas is a particularly good time to experience new cities because they're all gussied up for the holidays.  This way, I get to have these beautiful first impressions as my only impressions.

And now, the main event for last night:  Temple Square.  I must preface this by saying that a friend-slash-co-worker recommended that we "go to Temple Square to see the lights" and I kind of went, "Oh. Yeah, I guess that sounds nice."  I mentioned it to Paul in passing, not really expecting that we'd go because 1) we're neither one religious, and 2) Paul was, at one time, LDS and doesn't have much inclination to revisit that.  So I didn't think there was much reason for us to go.  But when I said it, he was like, "Oh yeah!  We should do that.  The lights are pretty fantastic and the history is interesting."  So we went.  And I am so glad we did.  It is beautiful!

See what I mean?  Gorgeous, no?  I am simply amazed that my camera took photos this clearly at night.  It was really something.

After we finished with our lightseeing (get it? Lightseeing instead of sightseeing? Ha ha!) we got back on the train and headed to a place called Trolley square.  I hear that there is lots of history surrounding that place as well but I'm unclear on most of it.  Anyway, here it is:

Yes, it's a crappy, crappy, crappy picture.  The rest of our group was running across the street while I was taking this picture and I was in a hurry to take it so I didn't get left behind and then a car almost hit me.  Oops.  But I'm okay.

We decided to eat at Old Spaghetti Factory which is inside the shopping mall at Trolley Square.  This is what the wait line for Old Spaghetti Factory looked like.  Lisa, Paul's sister-in-law, went in to ask how long the wait was for a group our size (8 of us) and came out to report that it would be at least an hour.  So some of the group went off to shop and the some of the group went off in search of beer.  I went in search of beer because I am not a shopper.

We actually ended up waiting about an hour and 20 minutes for our tables but it was definitely worth it.  Old Spaghetti Factory isn't exactly original or authentic food but it's very tasty and a really good deal.  I ordered an entree that was easily enough for both Paul and myself.  It came with iced tea or coffee, all the bread I wanted, a side salad and, the best part yet -- spumoni!  Yumyum, yummy, yummolicious!  I would have taken photos but the lighting was terrible and nothing would have shown up.  I did get a picture of the trolley car that is inside the restaurant, though.

Pretty cool, huh?

When we were done eating we walked back to the train and I got some more photos of things that I found to be interesting.

This was pretty neat.  It was at the stop where we waited for one of our return trains.  It's a poem written by a 14-year-old girl named Ruby, I believe.

 This was a funny little train seat all by itself.  Cole called it the lonely hobo seat.

And this is what greeted us when we arrived back in Sandy.  It was freezing fog -- quite the interesting sight.

Anyway, as you can see, we're having a fantastic time.  There is lots of great stuff in store for our remaining days here, too.  I'll be meeting Paul's mom tomorrow and maybe meeting an online friend on Thursday.  I hope the weather cooperates.  We're under a severe winter storm warning right now and it doesn't end until Thursday night or Friday morning.  Gah.

Yay for Arkansas!

Yay for the people in Arkansas, anyway. At least some of the people. This is a good time. All the siblings, I repeat all, are here. That's no easy feat considering our circumstances and geography. We are having a blast.  So, until I can devote more time to a follow up post on this subject, I'll leave you with some word snapshots -- a toast to the matriarch in honor of her graduation; rounds of Boggle with iPhones at the ready for proving or disproving a word's legitimacy; a dozen chatting, laughing people crammed into the kitchen because that's where we always end up. And there's so much more to come!

Sent via Pony Express

I'm Too Emotional & Too Cynical

Found this video.  Watched this video.  Teared up over some of the footage, giggled at other parts of it.


As it ended, I felt affection for this world and all its inhabitants and our interconnectedness.  And then I thought to myself, "This is really just a commercial for Google."

Thanksgiving

Whoa.  Thanksgiving.  It's my favorite holiday because I love to cook and I love to eat.  I love food, period.  Christmas is my second favorite holiday because it has all the same foods (at least, in my family it does) but it also has shopping which I'm not nearly as fond of as cooking.

Anyway, Thanksgiving.  It was delicious.  I made a turkey for the second time.  Last year was my first and I brined it with a pretty sweet brining solution -- "sweet" as in fruity, not as in a surfer dude's "Hey, man! Sweet waves today!"  (Although, surfers usually surf in salt water and brining solutions do contain a lot of salt.  But this really has nothing to do with Turkey Day.  Sorry for that brief foray into my distracted thought process.)  This year I went a little more savory.  There was nothing wrong with last year's brine but I wanted to try something different.  This year's brine was still sweet but more tempered with things like bay leaves and peppercorns and rosemary.  It was so good.  My mouth is watering thinking about it again.  Also, the turkey was huge.  We had to brine it in the massive pot that Caleb uses to brew beer.

Jennifer and I went in together on the cooking and food prep at her house because she's the only one with enough space for that sort of thing. I love her kitchen.  It's huge.  On Tuesday night I went to her place with my car full to the gills with cooking utensils, ingredients, baking pans and my mixer.  We set up the brining situation and called it a night.  (Another plug for living in Colorado -- this turkey and its pot were so big there is no way we could have fit it into the fridge but it was cold enough that we could leave it to sit in the garage all night!  Yay for temps in the low 20s!)

On Wednesday I went back to Jennifer's house, changed into some comfy PJs, poured a glass of wine and got busy!  We chopped veggies and nuts, shredded cheese, mixed pie crusts, mashed potatoes, whipped up pie fillings, dried bread crumbs and had a grand old time.  Friends from Texas arrived late that night and the children had a great time playing video games and chasing each other all over the house.  The adults opened more wine, turned up the music and continued food preparations until 3:00 am.  It was so much fun!

Thursday morning began bright and early with more cooking, roasting, boiling, baking and stirring.  We finally ate around 2:00 pm.  Everything was really good.  I wish I'd had the ability to eat more food but even that night when everyone usually eats the first of the leftovers, I was still too full.  Bummer.

After the meal we sat around the dining table and had a nice Pinot Noir tasting.  The friends from Texas brought a couple of Pinot Noir wines from New Zealand (they lived there for 9 months last year!  Lucky!) and Paul brought over a couple of Colorado Pinot Noir wines.  We all sampled and critiqued and tasted.  Then we opened a dessert wine and a honey wine to try with our desserts.  It was a superb time.  We should do it again before next Thanksgiving because we deserve to eat like that because it's Tuesday sometimes, you know?

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing Carcassone, one of our most favorite board games.  I think I can mark this holiday down as one of the best ever; it ranks right up there with the first Thanksgiving after The Divorce and with the New Year's Eve I spent alone with my homemade pizza and sangria.  Yum.  Truly can't wait to do it again.

List of Stuff, Updated

1. Like I said previously, I am tired of 'random' and 'rambling' so this post is not called that.  It's also not called that because it's an update of a previous post so it's named after that one.  Got it?
2. Antibiotics.  Solomon is taking his horse pills grudgingly, with much choking and coughing and gulping of orange juice.  He has a flare for the dramatic, in case you couldn't tell.  Samuel eagerly awaits the next dose of "the pink stuff" and asks at least a dozen times per day, "Is it time yet? Please?"
3. Miriam woke up Thursday with a supersuper sore throat.  We went to the doctor.  She was diagnosed with strep also.  Big surprise there.  I'm still scratching my head over that one.  /sarcasm
4. I'm even closer to the end of this semester's classes!  Double yay!
5. I did not go to Starbucks to do homework because Miriam camped out on the couch with a pillow and the remote.  Instead of homework, I paid bills and worked on The Budget.
6. My favorite Starbucks drinks are still the whole milk latte and the peppermint mocha.  I went to Starbucks yesterday to do homework and had a cranberry bliss bar with my whole milk latte.  Those were the best tasting calories I had all week.
7. It's been very quiet at "Neighbor's" house since Wednesday.  I can hear her still over there.  She's been vacuuming and still slams doors and cupboards frequently but I haven't heard kids or screaming.  I'm not sure what to think.
8. Still planning to write about Thanksgiving.  I'll get to it eventually.
9. The entire 5th grade took a field trip to the middle school yesterday as a teaser for the orientation, I suppose.  Solomon proclaimed it, "Awesome!"
10. And again, that's all the stuff.  I don't have to pee this time but I do have to go fold some laundry.  As usual, I'll write more stuff again later.  See ya then!

List of Stuff

1. I would have called this post "rambling" or "random" but I'm tired of those words.  "Stuff" is sufficient.
2. Solomon and Samuel were diagnosed with strep throat this week. I'm alternately loving and hating antibiotics. Loving for the obvious reasons -- my kids won't be stricken with rheumatic fever or kidney failure.  Hating because Solomon gags and nearly vomits both the pink, liquid stuff and the quartered horse pills.  Gosh, my life is glamorous.
3. Miriam went to bed tonight with a sore throat.  I reallyreallyreallyreally hope she is not worse in the morning.  I don't want to deal with another round of antibiotics if I can help it.
4. My classes are almost finished for the semester.  Yay!
5. If I'm not taking Miriam to the doctor for a strep test tomorrow morning I'm going to spend most of the day at Starbucks working furiously on the nutrition assignments I have neglected for the last 2 weeks.
6. My new favorite Starbucks beverage is a whole milk latte.  Well, at least during 10 months of the year.  From November to December it's the peppermint mocha.
7. I reported "Neighbor" to CPS yesterday.  For realz.  That's the first time I've done that as a concerned citizen and not as a mandated reporter.
8. Thanksgiving rocked.  It really deserves its own post and I'll do that soon but I couldn't leave it totally unrecognized in this List of Stuff.
9. I got a note today from the middle school welcoming my soon-to-be middle schooler and me to the campus.  We are cordially invited to attend an orientation for the 2011-2012 school year next week.  I had a miniature heart attack.  And then I recovered and added the date to my calendar.  And then I had another miniature heart attack.  I might have another heart attack next week.
10. That's all the stuff.  Well, it's not really All the Stuff Forever but I kinda have to pee so that's all for now.  I'll most likely write more stuff later.

I :heart: Tofu

Who'd have thunk it?  I started eating tofu several months ago because I wanted to expand my food horizons and all that jazz.  I was wary but I quickly discovered that when prepared correctly it's quite tasty.

Correctly prepared consists of draining thoroughly between towels and two weighted plates for several minutes, preferably an hour.  Then I slice the tofu into small cubes or triangles and marinate them in olive oil and either soy sauce or balsamic vinegar and whatever spices and herbs suit me that particular day.  I've sauteed the tofu in a skillet with mixed results.  I think I've discovered that braising chunks of tofu in the marinating liquid is best.  It provides the greatest consistency in texture.

Two of my favorite tofu-containing dishes, for your drooling pleasure:

This is quinoa, prepared in a tabouleh salad.  The recipe is from T.  She's an awesome cook.  I haven't actually eaten any of her food but the pictures she posts of her food make me wish I had eaten it.  Lots of it.  For the purpose of full disclosure her recipe did not have tofu in it but I added some because I wanted to.  Also, I put mushrooms in it this particular time because I was lacking some of the other stuff that I would normally put in it.  Yum.

This is spaghetti squash, recipe courtesy of me.  I roasted the squash in the oven.  After the strands were separated out I tossed in some sauteed onions, garlic and mushrooms.  There are also tomatoes but I don't saute those because they get too mushy.  Instead I remove the pan from the heat and add the tomatoes so they are just barely cooked by the heat of the vegetables already in the pan.  I added in an alfredo sauce which was quite creamy and delicious.  (And yes, there is a chip on my plate.  Please ignore it.)

I have also made pita sandwiches with tofu that was marinated in olive oil and lots of red pepper flakes for a spicy kick. The tofu and wheat pita were accompanied by shredded lettuce, chopped tomatoes, sliced avocados and sharp cheddar cheese. Those were really, really good.  Unfortunately, I did not take any photos of those.

Anyway, those are a few of my recent forays into tofu consumption. You should try them. You know, if you've never tried tofu but have been curious about how it might fit into your diet. Or not. I suppose it's not necessarily for everyone.

Other Worlds? Or No?

Last Post re: Samuel's Pockets (Maybe)

I decided to document the growing pile of crap on the top of the dryer.  If you can't stop the madness you might as well join in, right?  So every week after I did a round of laundry, I photographed the pile of stuff and captured the new additions.  Here they are, in order.

Here we have some pebbles, a Starburst wrapper, an arm from an action figure, staples and some other unidentifiable stuff.

This week we added some silly bands, a weird bolt/screw thing and a bobby pin.

This time we found a dollar!  It was quickly reclaimed.  There are also a hair clip, part of a broken earring, a day-glo spider, a tiny bubble wand and more pebbles.

More of the same.

This week we added the remnants of a busted balloon animal, beads and more pennies and pebbles.  

How does one kid find, become attached to, and collect so much crap?

Did You Know ...

... that there's a Donald Trump game that's not The Apprentice?  I could have lived my whole life without knowing this.

Open Letter to My Next Door "Neighbor"

Dear "Neighbor",

Before we go any further, let me just explain the " ".  You get " " because neighbors are supposed to be neighborly.  You, my "friend," are not.  Neighbors sign for packages for each other or maybe they come over and ask how long the power has been out in the building when they can't turn on the lights after work.  They wave at each other on the sidewalk or they chit chat at the pool.  Sometimes they give each other a squirt of ketchup when their pre-schooler is begging for ketchup on his hot dog and they've run out.  See, that's the kind of passing relationship I have with the chick across the breezeway.  And I'm not saying that you and I have to have that relationship because not everyone does.  That's okay.  But can I ask that I not know the better part of the goings-on in your place?  Please?

I do not need to hear you slamming your kitchen cupboards or your bathroom door. I can live without knowing that your current favorite song is "Bottoms Up" by Trey Songz.  (What kind of a name is 'Songz' anyway?)  I can especially live without hearing "Bottoms Up" at full blast at 6:20 on a morning when I do not have to go to work and my children don't have school.  Thanks for getting us up in time to make it to school though.  If this was yesterday I might be writing you a different letter.

Also, I do not like your children gallivanting all through the breezeway, knocking on my door and then running away, asking my children for their phone number, slamming their bikes into my walls and screaming at each other.  Although, I can see why this is appealing to them; I'd rather do those things than be in your house with you screaming at me constantly, too.   That's another thing -- your children did not ask to be born to you and from what I can tell, they deserve much better than you.  I'm very close to calling CPS on you and that's not hyperbole.  While I'm at it, I'll file a complaint against you with the landlord for noise violations, too.

Signed,
Your Ticked Off "Neighbor"

P.S.  I drew that picture up there just for you.  I meant the angry face to be me but now that I'm looking at it again, it looks more like a constipated bunny.  That's okay.  It's the thought that counts, right?

In Which We are Accosted by Zombies (& I Fear for Humanity)

Downtown Denver was overtaken by zombies a couple of weekends ago.  Paul and I, along with our friends, Jen and Scottie, were caught unawares.  It was weird.

It began innocently enough while in line at the liquor store.  Paul and I were buying ingredients to make martinis because we wanted martinis later in the weekend.  The people behind us were dressed up like zombies and said they were going to a zombie crawl.  I thought, "Huh.  Interesting.  Their make up is pretty cool,"  and then, "What the heck is a zombie crawl?" Then we moved on.

Later, we went the train station to meet Jen and Scottie.  The plan was to take the train downtown for an evening of dinner and live music.  While we were waiting on the platform at the train station I saw a small crowd of zombies join the rest of us humans.  And then a larger crowd of zombies arrived.  All of a sudden it hits us: the aforementioned zombie crawl is a Zombie Crawl (capital letters necessary) and it's downtown.  The accumulating crowd of zombies does not strike me as so interesting and/or cool any more.  They're kinda freaky and slightly disturbing.
 
Finally the train arrived and we boarded with the zombies.  With each successive stop the ratio of zombies to normal people became more unsettling.

By the time we arrived at the 16th Street Mall and we were surrounded by zombies.  And these were serious zombies.  Some of them had chainsaws.  Some were covered with blood.  Some were chasing each other and other humans and screaming.  Some were staring blankly and wandering aimlessly.  Others were limping on partially disabled limbs.

It was all rather obnoxious.  It seems that zombies are not terribly clear on who is involved in their game and who is not. Or maybe they enjoy running into innocent bystanders and then offering a half-hearted, "Oops, sorry, dude," before turning to run into another victim.

On the train ride into the city we had decided that we would eat at Tokyo Joe's so we got our bearings and took off in that direction, on foot.  Paul remarked, "This bothers me.  It seems like people with nefarious purposes could get away with a lot under the cover of a zombie uprising."  I agreed.  Who could tell real screaming from fake screaming in this mess?  How would you tell if someone was really being chased or just pretending for the sake of the zombie "fun?"

Tokyo Joe's was completely overrun with zombies. I think maybe they congregated there because raw fish flesh can be similar to raw human flesh.  It took forever to get our food -- something like 25 minutes to get our sushi.  That is much longer than is normal for Tokyo Joe's.

When we finished eating we needed to get to the club where Jen's friend, Josh Fischel, was playing.  It was several blocks away so we walked a bit to the train and re-boarded.  After we took our seats, we were joined by some young tweens.  They were in the 12 to 14 years old range and giggling hysterically while glancing warily down the train car at a trio of 30-something zombies.  The tweens were not zombies.  It appeared to be a game of tag between zombies and humans that had migrated to public transportation.

The zombies began to lumber toward the group of tweens.  The tweens shrieked with hilarity as the zombies approached.  It was quite the ear-splitting cacophony.  My ears were ringing.  Jen, Scottie, Paul and I looked at each other, rolled our eyes and gritted our teeth.

By this point in the evening we'd had about enough of zombies.  We'd been bumped into repeatedly by bloody zombies, been subjected to screaming and wailing and had to wait extra long for our food.  Patience was thin.

So Paul leaned across the aisle and said, "Excuse me, do you mind taking the zombie uprising that way?" and motioned toward the opposite end of the train.  No one heard him amidst the screaming and thrashing around in the aisles so he stood up, stepped closer, raised his voice a bit and repeated himself.

One of the 30-something zombies finally looked at him and said, "What? Are you serious? We're just having some fun with the kids! You should sit down.  Just sit down, sir!" Paul was rendered speechless, as were the rest of us.  She continued to shriek at Paul and demand that he sit back down.

I was in shock.  I've never seen someone over-react to a such an extent over a simple request for politeness and consideration.  I could only sit there and laugh awkwardly.  Jen refused to look at them.  Scottie, who might be considered a little hot-tempered, was not about to sit there and let the zombies take over.  So he stood and began shouting back at the 30-something zombie.

Her friends got into it then and one of them called Scottie "Tattoo."  Clever, huh?  Now, let me explain: Scottie is, indeed, tattooed.  Very tattooed.  He's proud of his tattoos and he has a right to be.  He has a large star on the side of his neck which, at first, was all anyone could see.  Almost every other inch of his body is covered with ink as well.  He decided to take this opportunity to show everyone on the train the tattoos they hadn't seen and began pulling up his sleeves, his shirt in the front and the back, his pants legs and anything else that needed to be moved to show off his artwork and shouting, "Oh?  Tattoos?  You want tattoos?  How about this one?  Or this one?  Or maybe this one here?  And there's one here!"

Meanwhile, zombie and friends are still screeching away in the background.  There's a lot of, "It's just for fun!" and "Chill out!" and, my personal favorite, "It's a free country, isn't it?"  I'm going to interject something else here -- I hatehatehatehate when people use "It's a free country" to excuse their obnoxiousness.  Yes, this is, to an extent, a free country.  However, a great founding father once said something like, "The right to swing my fist ends where another man's nose begins."  I'd like to extend that a bit and say, "The right to act like a raging idiot ends where someone else's peaceful evening with friends begins."  Can I get an amen?

By this time, the tweens had become very emboldened by their zombie aggressors and started shouting things like, "Asshole", "Dildo" and "Penis wrinkle."  Yep, you got that right.  A bunch of junior high kids using a bunch of words that they'd most likely never use in front of their parents and probably aren't entirely certain of said words' meanings.

About that time 30-something zombie gets tired of yelling at Paul to sit down (because he was still standing in the aisle, dumb-founded) and begins saying things like, "You know what?  I'm a bitch.  Yup, I'm a bitch and I'm proud of it."  Well, at least she's right about that, huh?  And then, the best line of the night: "You have ruined my spirit! Ruined it!  Are you happy now? Ruined my spiiiiiiriiiiiiit!!!"

I guess her ruined spirit took the fun out of screaming at a perfectly normal, polite person because they began to wander off then, while muttering more obscenities and insults to our collective intelligence and parentage.  Two stops later we had to get off the train for our destination and as we disembarked we got another earful of "Penis wrinkle."

We spent the rest of the evening telling each other how ruined our spirits were.  And we've all had several good laughs about the situation since then.  But holy cow.  Ridiculous over-reaction much?

Sustainable Food

I'm so excited!  It's Thursday.  And it's an "other" Thursday!  That means it's my day to get a big box of fresh, organic fruits and vegetables delivered to my doorstep.  I wait for this day every other week like it's my birthday or Thanksgiving or something.

I was recently directed to this service, Door to Door Organics, by someone on a message board.  It's a service that brings food to you, for a fee, of course.  Some of it is local and some is not.  All of it is organic.  I clicked on the link thinking, "There's no way they'll be delivering in my area. And if they are, I'm sure it's not affordable." But I was wrong on both counts. Yay for being wrong!

I started out ordering the smallest box available in my area because I wasn't sure what to expect.  Then Paul and I decided to go in on a larger box together.  There's enough in the bigger box to last both of our households for 2 weeks until we get another box.  I have had to supplement occasionally with a few store bought carrots or broccoli because we're always running out of those things.  I also bought grapes last week because Miriam and Samuel have been begging for some and we haven't had any in our boxes.  But for the most part, this is how we get our produce.

Several months ago Paul and I bought 1/8 of a locally raised, humanely slaughtered Longhorn.  We anticipated eating that beef for a long time but the animal wasn't as large as we expected and my meat was gone pretty quickly.  Paul and Cole, who consume considerably less red meat than we do at my house, just finished off their portion last week. Now, in January we are going to buy 1/4 of a Black Angus bull.  It's been grass-fed up to now and will be for a few more weeks.  The last few weeks of its life it will be fed organic grain.  We're okay with that because the guy can assure us it has been given no antibiotics or hormones.

So between the beef and the organic fruit and veggie box, we're getting a large percentage of our food from sustainable sources.  Love it!

And for your viewing pleasure, an apple we got in our first organic box.  It actually had a living worm in it!  Do you see it?  It's the white-ish, wormy looking thing coming out of the seed pod.  The kids didn't believe that actually happened.  We gently transferred the worm to a pot of dirt on the patio and then ate the apple.

In a Blogging Mood

I'm in the mood to write.  My house is clean, the laundry is (mostly) done.  (There's a large basket that needs folding but I'm going to ignore that.) A really funny episode of The Office is on.  I lit approximately 17 candles around the house and they smell incredible.  I have a glass of decent merlot at my hand. There's a formerly happy chicken defrosting in my kitchen; it'll soon be roasted and made into chicken pot pie.  It's fall and I'm fortunate to have a comfortable, warm, well-stocked home.  For some reason I feel the need to describe all of this to you.

Also:

• Solomon lost a tooth today.  It's the first tooth he's lost in at least 2 years.  I know he hasn't lost one since we moved to Colorado.  I told him that he should check under his pillow tomorrow for the Tooth Fairy's prize.  He said, "Can you just give me the money now?  Like you're buying my tooth?"  So I did.  And I laughed heartily.
• I took Solomon to the doctor today because he's had increasingly worse heel pain in the last few days.  Instead of being something worrisome, it's just inflammation that happens sometimes in kids who are growing and healthy and active.  He should be fine in a couple of weeks.  I'm grateful for all of this.
• I'm taking the Spanish placement test tomorrow so I can register for not-Spanish I next week.
• I bought lots of bulk spices today for less than $1.00.  Total.  Not each.  Total.
• I saw my endo today for a post-op appointment.  Everything is good.  Assuming my thyroid panel is all normal I'll see her again in 6 months and if the thyroid panel then is all normal and if I never have any weird thyroid symptoms, I'll never see her again.  She's a nice person and all but this makes me happy.  She said I was her easiest patient all day.

And that's all for now.  I should probably have made some of these items separate blog posts but I didn't.  That's how I roll.  I reserve the right to elaborate upon any, all or none of these items in the future.  That's also how I roll.  (You know, until now I didn't know I 'rolled' at all.  That just came out of no where.  Apparently I roll that way, too.)

Poor Little Buddy

Samuel has recently become engrossed in a game called Spore.  I don't know if you've heard of it, but it's similar to TheSims in that you create a being and live as that being until you die.  In Spore, the main difference is that you also evolve.  Your character begins life as a single-celled organism that moves about eating other organisms and growing appendages and adapting to its watery surroundings until it can live on land with the other legged creatures.

Well, Samuel began a civilization a few weeks before the kids left for their fall break.  Tonight he went back to his saved game and continued playing for a while.  When he and I went into the bathroom to work on his teeth cleaning routine he told me that his character's buddy had died.  His little creature was living in a nest with another similar creature and the two of them went off to conquer a band of other creatures.  During the fighting his buddy was mortally wounded.  He seemed a little sad when he told me this but he quickly rebounded and said, "It's okay, though.  I'll find another buddy," and that was that.  Conversation moved on.

About 20 minutes ago Solomon came to me and said that Samuel was in bed, crying.  I went to find out what was wrong.  He was sobbing really hard and couldn't talk.  I asked a bunch of questions and finally surmised that he was crying over the loss of his creature's buddy.  Poor little dude.  I feel so bad for him.  And at the same time I can't help giggling a little to myself because it's kind of silly, too, you know?

Also, it reminded me of my own brush with virtual mortality.

When I Grow Up ...

Around the dinner table tonight, we got on the topic of future plans for making a living.  It comes up every once in a while and I'm always interested to hear what the kids have sprouting in their imaginations.  Miriam said she wants to be a teacher, probably an art teacher.  Samuel wants to be an artist or an inventor.  Solomon wants to be a scientist or a veterinarian or an astronaut or something else that I can't remember at the moment.  That boy thinks big, and I do mean BIG.

I don't know if I gave enough thought to the "When I grow up ..." stuff when I was a kid and I want to encourage my children to think about it a lot. I want them to feel confident that they can do whatever they want to do.  I want them to explore different ideas and dreams.  I want them to pick the most satisfying and fulfilling one they can.  I want them to know that it's going to be difficult, that it will take a lot of hard work and discipline and determination. I don't want that to be a surprise to them.

I'm glad they're seeing me in school. I hope to be an inspiration to them in their future endeavors. I also want to be an example of how not to do things: for example, finish school before you move on to having children. Because both things are very hard to do, but they're exponentially more difficult when you're doing them both at the same time.

When I grow up, I'm going to have raise 3 amazing human beings.

Update on the Fall 2010 Semester

I'm about half way through this semester.  I think.  I don't have official mid-terms so I can't be sure.  But considering that my classes started in mid- to late September and the semester ends mid-December and it's now the end of October, I think this constitutes the mid-point of the semester.  I think.

Anyway, I dropped microbiology.  Did I already tell you that?  I can't remember and I don't feel like opening another window and perusing my recent posts to be sure.  But I dropped microbiology.  That class is the hardest class I've ever taken in my entire life!!  And I took geometry which gave me total night terrors all through my sophomore year of high school.  Microbiology completely dwarfs geometry in terms of difficulty.  And now, since my GPA directly affects my odds of getting into the extremely competitive nursing program I can't afford to scrape by with a C like I did in geometry.  So I did the responsible/wimpy thing and dropped the class.  Responsible because I did it by the deadline so as not to lose any money -- wimpy because I'm a wimp when it comes to having a less than desirable grade on my transcript.  My plan is to take it next semester (since I absolutely have to take it for nursing.  Duh.) in an actual classroom with actual lectures and actual lab exercises.  I aced A&P so I can ace micro.

My dosage calculation class is going great.  That makes me happy because I was scared -- excuse me, askeered, in a bigbigbig way -- of that class a few weeks ago. I remember dimensional analysis being a terror-inducing process when I went through nursing school the first time so I was not too keen on it this time, either.  But I've either become smarter or developed more common sense in the last 13 years or something because now it's easy as Pi.  Get it?  Pi?  Bwahahahahaha!  I crack myself up!  Occasionally.

Nutrition takes a little more work than math but it's still pretty easy.  It requires more time commitment because I have to read a lot of the textbook instead of just watching videos of math problems being solved but that's okay.  My biggest problem with nutrition is that the book approaches "good" nutrition from the point of view that margarine and its ilk are better for you than real butter.  Know what I mean?  The authors seem to believe that modern science is better at determining a healthy diet than are natural, minimally processed foods.  So as long as I approach my tests that way, I'm okay.  I just have to nod and smile and click the right answer to get a good grade and then go back to eating real butter and natural, grass fed meat and drinking full fat milk and all is right with the world.

I just got an e-mail today telling me that I can begin spring 2011 registration on November 10.  I'm excited.  I'm going to take microbiology (duh), either statistics or college algebra (not sure yet -- neither are required for my current nursing program but both are required for the BSN program I eventually want to transfer to, eons from now) and Spanish II or III.  I need to figure out how to skip Spanish I.  I'm not going to take Spanish I.  I'm way past Spanish I.

Anyway, that's how the semester is going.  It feels really good to be in school.

P.S. I have As in both classes.  Woot woot!

Cost is Disproportionate to Value

This sticker cost me $285.51.

Things About Which I Am Happy

1. I don't have cancer.
2. I'm back in school, where I belong, at least for a time.
3. My kids are healthy.
4. My kids are brilliant and funny and special.
5. There is good food to be eaten, good wine to be drunk and good music to be heard.
6. My family is out-of-this-world supportive and loving.
7. I live in Colorado.
8. It's fall.
9. There are more things to put here but I can't think of them right now.  It makes me happy that there are so many happy-worthy things.

My Real Name

Samuel: Solomon, why are you so difficult?

Solomon:  Because my name is 54 x 63.

Miriam: Hi, 54 x 63.

Solomon:  No, first you have to figure me out.  Then you can call me that.

Another Step

I have had a goodnight routine with the kids since they were very young; I think Solomon was maybe 3 when I started this.  That means Miriam was 2 and Samuel was an infant.  They really don't remember anything else for goodnights.  I kiss them on their cheeks and on their foreheads and between each kiss I say, "Good night," "Sleep tight" and "Dream of what tonight?"  And then they tell me what they're planning to dream about.

They love it.  Or at least 2 of them still do.

The last couple of weeks I noticed that when I sent Solomon to get ready for bed he wasn't coming back to tell me good night or let me know that he was ready to be tucked in.  Every night I still went in to tell him good night and frequently he pretended to be asleep when I kissed him.  Two nights ago I asked him if he is too grown up for the old goodnight routine.  He looked embarrassed and admitted that yeah, he does not like it any more.  So I told him that's okay, it's part of growing up to change things like that.  Instead, I tucked him in, hugged him and told him that I love him.  Last night he said that he doesn't really even want to be 'tucked in' any more; he'd rather get a hug in the kitchen or in my room or wherever I happen to be and just go to bed on his own.

Gosh, he's becoming an adolescent, isn't he?

I'm not bothered by this change.  I know it's part of growing up and I'd rather he tell me that he's uncomfortable with it so that I don't keep doing it and bugging him and keeping him a 'baby.'  I wondered to myself at the beginning of the school year if he'd stop some of the sort of attached behaviors that we have.  For example, when he gets out of the car in the morning, he waves to me with his hand formed in the ASL sign for "I love you."  That's another thing the kids and I have done for a very long time.  He hasn't stopped it yet but I think it's coming soon.

I'm not bothered at all, but it is bittersweet.  My boy.  :sigh:

Weather Conditions from The Weather Channel

Weather for Today & Tomorrow 

Today
Some clouds this morning will give way to generally sunny skies for the afternoon. High 67F. Winds NNW at 5 to 10 mph.

Tonight
Mainly clear. Low 42F. Winds SSW at 5 to 10 mph.

Tomorrow
Cloudy with a few showers. High 54F. Winds N at 5 to 10 mph. Chance of
rain 30%.

Updated: 10/11/10 5:27 AM MDT
For more weather information, visit www.weather.com from your PC or mobile device.

Doesn't that bolded portion sound like great napping weather? I cannot wait. I don't have to work, my homework is reasonably caught up and I have no errands to run. It's going to be sweet!

Sent via Pony Express

It's Been a While

Nice way to leave you hanging, huh?  Not knowing if I have cancer and all.  Eh, I figured no one was all that worried.  You all discovered via e-mail or phone call or in person or on Facebook (how good am I at the e-communication?!) that all was good.  Actually, come to think of it, if there's anyone reading this who didn't already know that my final path report was benign, I'd like to know who you are.  'Cause you might be one of the El Anonymous commenters.  So stand up and take a bow.  Or something.

Truth be told, I've not been in such a bloggish mood lately.  I think of something to write and I'm all, "Huh. I suppose that could be interesting.  If I could be bothered to drag out the ol' laptop and actually place my fingers upon the keys.  But Ye Olde Laptop is all the way over there.  And I'm tired from all the surgery and work and kids and cooking and laundry and dishes and organizing and budgeting and dealing with the ex-husband and eating and sleeping and breathing and not running.  It can wait." Yeah, I'm just a creative well-spring of words these days. Ugh.

So.

I have officially begun all of my classes. Clinical Calculations for Some Type of Medical Person is just fine, as is Nutrition for the Some Other Kind of Medical Person. Microbiology for the Super Smart Medico is freaking kicking my behind in a seriously scary, painful, nerve-wracking way. Yuck-o. I'm askeered. I want to drop it and then take it again in the Winter 2011 semester in an actual classroom with actual lectures and actual labs but I'm afraid of what that might do to the financial aid I've already budgeted into my life for the next 3 months.

I'm not working out. That probably has a lot to do with how 'blah-ish' I'm feeling lately. I don't have the energy for it. That's probably because I've almost forgotten what vegetables are. I need to find some carrots and squash, stat. I bet that would snap me out of this funk. Someone wanna give me a shove in the right direction? Please?

Seriously, I'm doing okay. I feel great, actually, considering that my throat was cut open less than a month ago. The scar is still sore.  Sometimes I forget that it's there and accidentally scratch an itch or something. When that happens there are a few seconds of blinding, "Oh. My. Gosh. What the %*#$? Did you think for a second that you have a normal neck?! OWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!" And then I forget about it again.  Other than that, I'd never know that I'd had surgery.

My kids are amazing. I realized the other day that I have more moments of enjoyment with my kids than not. Sadly, a couple of years ago I couldn't say that. There was a lot of stress and anxiety and general malaise that caused me not to enjoy much of anything having to do with child-rearing. I'm not sure when it happened exactly but all of a sudden I started having these moments of thinking,  

"Wow. This is cool. These kids are fabulous. I'm lucky to be doing this," 

and they far out-numbered the moments of thinking,  

"Geez, when is this going to end?  IamsoexhaustedIfeellikeIamgoingtodiebeforetheyareadults." 

It makes me happy and sad to figure this out. Happy because I really like the phase we're in. Sad because I probably missed out on some great moments. Sad because I'm slightly afraid that this is all going to be blown to smithereens in a few short years by teenage angst and hormones and yucky stuff. But for now, I'm going to savor it.

Because now is good and that's what I'm about.

Yup, even with all the health issues and all the work and all the stress and all the school and all the tight budgeting, I'm happy.  I'm still savoring moments and feeling like this is a good life.  I've been dealt a good lot and that's more than a lot of people can say.

And now I'm rambling. I have bread rising in the oven and I've had some wine and it's time to go to bed. After I punch down the dough. See ya.

Surgery Update

So I had surgery.  They put me to sleep and cut open my throat and sucked massive amounts of tissue out of my neck.  Now I have bloody steri-strips across my throat.  How's that for an update?  Sorry, had to get it out of my system.  I occasionally have to fulfill my urges to be crude and graphic.

Anyway, I had the surgery.  It went well, didn't take as long as the surgeon expected, I recovered quickly.  I say recovered but I'm not fully recovered yet.  I still can't turn my head fully from side to side.  That hurts, kind of a lot actually.  I'm not hurting enough to need pain relief any more, though.  I haven't had oxycodone since Sunday afternoon and haven't taken even acetaminophen since yesterday morning.  Pretty sweet, I say.

I was extremely nervous the morning of the surgery.  It didn't help that Paul and I sat in the waiting room and talked about possible outcomes.  Outcomes like, "What if I don't wake up?"  "What if I throw a clot and have a stroke and go into a persistent vegetative state?"  "What if I go into a coma, come out of it and can talk but can't wipe my own butt?"  That's fun stuff to talk about, huh?  Okay, not so fun, but necessary in that situation.  And besides, it did help a tiny bit.  At least at the end of it I was sure that I wouldn't be left lying in a bed with only a feeding tube keeping me alive.  Anyway, we hashed out all the possible scenarios we could and I signed my life (temporarily) into Paul's hands.  And then we both sat and read our respective books (me: Providence by Daniel Quinn, him: Lamb by Christopher Moore) while we waited for the nurse to call me back.

The nurse who prepped me for surgery was cool, if a tad overkill with her whole you're-going-to-be-fine-this-is-so-not-a-big-deal routine. She was a little too hang-ten surfer chick for me.  There was a lot of "dude" and "man" and stuff like that.  But she took very good care of me and I probably would like her very much in another setting.

I met almost everyone who was going to be in on my surgery.  I met the anesthesiologist who was scheduled to put me under but then the schedule changed and I met a new anesthesiologist.  I met a surgical resident who would be coming in to assist my surgeon.  I met the medical student who was coming in to observe.  I met the head scrub nurse and she informed me that there would be a few other nurses in there also.  And then before I knew it I had to kiss Paul good-bye.  The scrub nurse wheeled me down the hall on one of those beds with an IV pole attached to me and a chart lying across my thigh and an elastic paper cap on my head.  I was one of those people -- the sick people.  It was very surreal.

And then I was in a cold operating room and they told me to scoot over onto the operating table.  I almost refused.  For 2 seconds I was paralyzed and I almost said "No, I'm not doing that.  You're going to have to move me because I'm not doing it." But instead I looked at the dozen faces around me, at the massive lights, at the sterile fields surrounding me and at my bed and my table and I said, "Wow, there are a lot of people in here. There's a lot of stuff in here," and I moved to the table. Just about the time I was about to hyperventilate and have a major freak out, the anesthesiologist said, "I'm giving you some meds to make you sleepy." And then I woke up.

Recovery was full of odd sensations.  I could feel something in the vicinity of my throat but it didn't hurt and I was afraid to touch anything for fear of making it hurt.  My eyes were really dry and I couldn't see.  Someone gave me a saline bullet to moisten them.  I wanted to stay awake and look around but I kept falling asleep, despite my best efforts. Apparently things went very well, though because they moved me to post-op after less than an hour and I went home less than an hour after that.

I've spent the week since then slowly increasing my activity and decreasing my meds and feeling pretty good, if a little tired.  I will go back to see the surgeon on Thursday and he should have a final pathology report for me by then.  I'm crossing my fingers that it's all good and this whole thing is behind me now.

During this time I've been reminded, repeatedly, how wonderful my family and friends are.  Jenn and Caleb took over my kids for 48 hours so I didn't have to cope with homework and showers and meals and transportation.  Paul stayed with me, brought me food, pills, water and ice packs.  He reminded me how much medicine to take and when.  He called my family and friends after my surgery and let everyone know that everything turned out well.  People at work have offered me any help I might need, sent me cards and flowers, called to inquire about me, one of them cooked and froze enough food for at least 5 nights of dinners.  My grandparents sent monetary support.  These are all good, good people.  Thank you, all of you.  I really wish there were some way to re-pay you.

The Best Days

Sometimes The Best Days are extravagant, phenomenal, mesmerizing events filled with roller coasters and cotton candy and fireworks.  Sometimes The Best Days are quiet, relaxing, comfortable times spent cuddling on the couch and eating comfort foods while watching movies.  And sometimes The Best Days are ordinary ones where not much really happens.  Not much happens except the magic of your baby learning about venus fly traps and telling you all about it with the brightest, biggest, shiniest smile on his face.  Where not much happens other than catching your shy daughter singing along to this song.  Ones where you walk your kids to school and see that the P.E. teacher needs help setting up for running club, and your eldest, your first baby, your all-too-soon-an-adult child is the first to volunteer his help to her.  Sometimes those are The Best Days.

Ya Gonna Get Hitched?

No.  No, we are not getting married.

Truthfully no one has asked me that, in those exact words, but lots of people, including my own children, have asked if Paul and I are going to get married.  I suppose that is a natural question when two people of our ages have been consistently and happily seeing each other for more than a year.  But we're still not getting married.  And we're both very content with that.

Here's why we're I'm happy with that (Actually, we're both happy with that, truly. But I don't want to make a habit out of speaking for Paul. He's capable of speaking for himself but he's not writing on this blog. Anyway, we've talked about this and we agree, so there you have it.) :

1. I had a pretty terrible marriage and Paul's was way worse than mine.  Seriously, it was badbadbadbadbad.  Bad. And those are just the parts he's told me about.  I know that doesn't mean a second would be so horrible for either of us but who wants to test it?  Really.
2. I rather enjoy caring for my children alone.  And by that I mean, I don't really enjoy it (because really, who enjoys being 99.5% responsible for the care and well-being of 3 human beings alone?), at least not 100% of the time. But I do mean that adding someone else and his child to this equation certainly aren't going to make it any easier to solve.  Paul and Cole are both great guys but this household has all it can handle right now.
3. I much prefer being able to do my own thing when I want to -- or at least when the child situation allows for it -- rather than having to constantly consider someone else's wishes when deciding what to do with myself. If I want to veg on the couch in my PJs and eat popcorn and watch crap TV all day or play TheSims I don't want to feel like I'm infringing on someone else's desire and/or need to go on a motorcycle ride or run errands or do laundry all day.
4. My kids have enough crap to deal with when transitioning from Albuquerque to here and back without adding more relationships to our home.  There are already too many people to deal with in Albuquerque.  They don't see it that way because they are 10, 9 and 7 but it takes a toll on them whether they realize it or not.  I'm not willing to add more stress and confusion and anxiety to their lives (and mine) by adding more people to it.
5. I much prefer simplicity, when possible, to complexity.

People say things like: 

But you need someone!!!

Why? For what?  I have someone who loves me, laughs with me, commiserates with me, does nice things for me.  We drink wine together, we have a great time, we have fabulous conversations.  We don't need to live together or be married to do these things.


You have to think about yourself! (This is usually in response to Number 4 above.)
I am thinking about myself.  I don't want to deal with the baggage that 2 step- & half-families bring with them.  These children have enough to deal with and so do I. The people telling me to think about myself are not the people sitting with my children, rubbing their backs and handing them tissues as they cry about missing the babies and the dad and the step-mom in Albuquerque.  Their hearts don't hurt like that.

You shouldn't be alone!
I'm not. Believe me. I'm not alone by a long shot. Right now I have 3 people running around me, requiring food and beverage and showers and entertainment and discipline and teaching and encouragement and affection and attention and all the other myriad things human beings require. I'm happy to give it to them. It's easier to give them what they require when I'm not also giving it to others. They deserve that and so do I.

But, but, but ... what if ... ?

What if what? What if Paul leaves me? What if he decides he's done with me? What if ... ? You know what? Someone already decided he was done with me. Being married to me didn't change that he wanted other people. And I left him. The marriage certificate didn't keep me there. Being married another time wouldn't change any of that. There are second divorces just like there are second marriages. "Two Divorces" sounds a lot worse than "Another Break-Up."  And it's a lot more expensive, too.  I'd rather not be "Twice-Divorced Chick."

I'm not closing the door on marriage forever.  I've lived through enough to know better than to say "Never" to almost anything.  However, I am saying "No" to marriage for a long time.  At this time, and for a long time, it's not for me.  And you know what?  I'm extremely grateful to have found a man who agrees with me.  He's a good one -- maybe even a keeper. / tongue-in-cheek

Surgery

Well I have a follicular neoplasm in my throat.  That means my thyroid contains atypical cells and no one is sure if they're malignant or not and they can't tell unless they take them out.  So I'm going to have the left side of my thyroid removed.  It's all scheduled, pre-authorized with the insurance company and I'm pre-registered with the hospital.  All I have to do now is fill out the living will and advance directive.  I'm not looking forward to that.

I know exactly what I want to be done with my body if the big "What If ..." happens but I don't like thinking about it.  Paul and I talked about it a lot when he had surgery last year.  I've talked about it with Jenn and Caleb and Lance, too.  I've talked about it a little with Mom and Dad.  I'm confident that everyone who matters will make sure that my wishes are honored if and when that time comes.  But putting it into writing is just different.  It's so final.  I guess that makes sense -- they're final wishes.  I know I can change it if I change my mind, but as of September 15 at 1:30 pm it's Final until I wake up.  I think that's the thing that has me on edge -- that this could be Final.  It's not likely to be, but it could be.

Wow, I'm morbid this morning.

I'll be glad to have this over with.  It's not like my thyroid has been a huge source of worry and pre-occupation for me but it will be nice not to have to think about it at all any more.  No more biopsies, no more ultrasounds, no more anything.  Just get it cut out and be done with it.

The surgeon is of the opinion that I can probably avoid thyroid replacement hormones.  I like that.  I don't want to mess with them, with mood swings or hair loss or temperature intolerance or weight gain.  The surgeon and the endo both think that since my left side is not normal at all the right side is compensating for it and can probably continue to do so.  Neither of them think we need to do anything with the right side -- it's perfectly thyroid-ish and not at all nodule-ish.  Yay for that, huh?

So there it is.  After 31 years of no surgeries, almost no scars and being hospitalized only for childbirths, I'm going to have A Thing.  A Surgery. A Story.

Water Park Fun

I forgot about these videos from our day at the water park in Arkansas.  I give you -- The Toilet Bowl:

Confusing a Girl

Miriam, telling me a joke: I know how to confuse a girl.
Me: Huh?
Miriam: Purple.
Me: Huh?
Miriam: See, you're confused!
Me: Why did you say, "girl"?
Miriam: Because that's the way I heard it.
Me: But it doesn't matter.  If you said that to a boy, he'd be confused, too.  If you specify that it's a girl when being a girl doesn't really matter, you're saying that girls are not as smart as boys.
Miriam, indignant:  That is NOT true! I'm never telling that joke again!!
Me, to myself: Thaaaaaat's right.

I Look Like I Was Bitten by a Vampire

And I feel like I got a Chuck Norris punch to the throat.  Ouch.

I went to the endocrinologist for a biopsy of my gargantuan thyroid today.  I'm not kidding about the gargantuan part, either.  It used to measure 4cm x 5cm and now measures 5cm x 7cm.  Or so I'm told. Whatever.  It's big.  Not like developing a second head big, but big nonetheless.  Big enough that medical type people and Mom say, "Hm, your thyroid is large."  Actually, Mom says, "Are you sure that isn't bigger than it was the last time I saw you?"

I love my mom -- duh.  (Hi, Mom!  I love you!)  She's always made a point of not being pushy because she hates when people are pushy but she can't help commenting on my thyroid.  I don't really blame her.  She had cancer in hers and the disorder she had is genetic.  And one of my sisters is having thyroid issues already.  And Mom had cancer.  If I were my mom I'd be concerned about my thyroid too.

Anyway, I went to the endo yesterday and had an ultrasound.  According to the endo the left side of my thyroid "contains no normal tissue."  It's all one big, fat, hairy nodule.  Okay, it's not really fatty or hairy because it's a thyroid, but it's big.  It's big and it's 'hypervascular.'  And it's big enough and vascular enough that she wanted me back for a biopsy today.  Fortunately, the right lobe of my thyroid is perfectly healthy, with minimal blood flow.

I hate biopsies, especially when they're of my own thyroid. Biopsies cause me a lot of anxiety.  I only have anxiety issues when it comes to my vomiting offspring, the ex-husband and his new offspring, and my thyroid.  Actually, I have anxiety over needles puncturing my thyroid.  Nine needles, to be precise.  Ugh.

I contemplated taking a Valium, pre-biopsy.  Ultimately, I decided against it for a lot of reasons.  They are as such:

1. A lot of my previous thyroid related anxiety was actually ex-husband anxiety.  You see, when I had the last biopsies, he was cheating on me for the third time (Yup, third! That I knew of!) and I was interviewing attorneys for my inevitable divorce.
2. I will likely require biopsies of my thyroid for years to come so I might as well get used to it.
3. I was going to have to get Lance to come with me and then drive me home in case I was drunk on Valium.
4. I didn't want to be drunk on Valium all day.
5. I gave birth to 3 children virtually 100% unmedicated.  What's a few needles in my neck?

So I didn't take any Valium.  And I lived.  I cried and I hyperventilated and I panicked.  But I lived.  That's the important part, right?

Now I await results.  My doctor thinks she can call me tomorrow with results.  I'll be hugely impressed if she can.  In my previous experience, biopsy results are at least a week out.  Anyway, I'm not complaining.  I just want to know what I've got here.  If it's cancer I might have the thing taken out next week.  Even if it's not I might still have it taken out in the next month.

Whew.  That's a lot of information right there.  I think it's past time that I finish my wine.

Oh, yeah.  The vampire thing.  I appear to have two puncture wounds on my neck.  This doc is so good that when she injected the lidocaine (twice) she marked the spots and took samples from the same sites.  Crazy stuff, huh? But my throat is pretty beat up.  It hurts to swallow and I'm swollen. Ugh.