Doing better

Slowly but surely, I am doing better these days. I have taken an extended recovery time from work and I apologise for not updating earlier, but really, what can I say about just hanging out at home? Several blog topics have come to mind, but they all ended up on the editing (living) room floor.

I thought really hard about what I could write about that was real life inspired and not really boring. I thought about all the bazillion movies I have watched in the last week and how I could list them all off, or summarize plots or lack of plots or something. Oh, and did I mention all these old movies are still on VHS with the sound that goes in and out and that oh so endearing line of tracking fuzz that goes across the bottom of the screen? And since about half these movies were taped off of tv, I get to see the commercials advertising the "brand new, 1989 Ford Fiesta" in all it's manual transmission glory.

I really came close to writing a dissertation for you on the lameness of subtitles on a live action animal film (you know, the ones where the animals are not out having long discussions about the state of the barnyard, etc?) when 80% of the closed captioning reads:

{barking} {sniffing} {whimpers, howling} {barking}

because 90% of the cast are of the canine variety. I really seriously thought about writing that.

Or I could describe to you the details of the stitch I am using as I crochet the worlds biggest afghan (it is a cluster stitch, similar to a popcorn, but a lot puffier) (is puffier a word?) in purple and teal which are the worlds most horrifically mesmerizing combination of colors. And because I didn't plan the pattern right, it should be the size of a small house by the time i finish it.

I could tell you how my dear friend KJ rescued me from the afghan/movie nightmare of my week by dropping by two fantastic books that I was unable to put down for THE ENTIRE DAY yesterday because they were so jaw droppingly fantastic!!! (The Hunger Games and Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins, for those of you that have the desire to lose an entire day or two of your lives) And how my dreams were tormented with the most disturbing aspects of the plot line, with myself as the main character, as if I were still sixteen years old?

Oh yeah. I thought about all those things. And I really honestly considered doing blogs on all of those things. But then I realized that I only have one thing I really should admit on this blog. One thing that will tell you more about me in a couple of sentences than the rest of my dissertations combined could. I thought of what is possibly the most disturbing aspect of this whole "at home after surgery" chapter of my life.

The surgery photos.

You see, while I was "under the knife" the doc was kind enough to take a few photos of my guts for me. I guess he felt like I needed to be included a bit more. Personally, I thought than being stripped naked and strapped down starfish style under bright white operating lights while a team of people cut you open was enough, but hey, I am not the expert here. So he took a few shiny color pictures that I was able to take home as one of my many souvenirs. And I have the sophisticated taste to leave them out in my living room. And it finally occurred to me TODAY over a week later, that perhaps that was not the most attractive thing to do. Not that I have had many visitors, but after seeing a few of them recoil at the grotesque shiny pinkness of those pictures, I have finally come to my senses and decided to put them away for now. Not that I won't keep them for posterity or some such nonsense, but at least I will warn people before I go flashing my innards photo shoot in their faces. You know, cause it's the least I can do...

Forever residing in the land of maturity,
~k~

the road to recovery

It was not an easy weekend, and it looks like although I took one step forward on Sunday (I really was feeling pretty well), I have now taken two steps back. I am going to the doctor today due to some problematic symptoms. Praying that it is nothing big, I don't think I can handle any more bad news...

Will check in later...

XOXO

~k~

Mesh panties were the highlight of my week...

The very sexy mesh panties. How could I be any luckier! Please excuse the discoloration from the iodine solution. I promise that is what it is!

Wednesday was a bit of a crazy day around here. I was feeling pretty poorly so I took myself down to the urgent care facility to figure out what was wrong. After a series of tests and shuffling me from one office to another, it was determined that I needed surgery. Even as I type these words, I still cannot believe that all of this has happened. Emergency surgery is certainly not a planned event in anyone's life, and I am still attempting to wrap my mind around it even now, two days later. So, at 6:30 Wednesday night, I was hauled into surgery to repair some internal bleeding and such.

I felt like I was in an episode of ER. After the flurry of activity of checking in and getting a health history, I kissed my Scotland and they wheeled me off to the operation room. They strapped my arms and legs down starfish style, and put me under. Intubation, breathing tube, the whole banana. And my world went black for an hour and a half. Then they were waking me up, telling me that everything went fine, they had glued me back together, and I would be able to see my family soon. After a mild panic attack (really, who here didn't think that would happen, huh?) I was wheeled back into my room to see my loving parents and my sweet Scotland.

And my souvenirs? A couple of scars, a few days off work, a hospital bill, and a pair of mesh panties. That's right, in the midst of panic and mayhem, I was able to maintain my sense of humor because the awesome nurses presented me with two (count them, TWO) pairs of mesh panties for the experience! I guess they figured that if they were taking out a few of my extra body parts, they better give me something to remember them by. But that is why God gives us those extras, right? Just in case they have to take the faulty ones out. And I will leave you to gaze upon the awesomeness that is the pair of mesh panties, and guess what extra parts I am now living without...Wink! Scotland says he slipped the doc a little extra so they'd give me the full tune up. I say, while they were in there, why didn't they do a tummy tuck or a little lipo!

So I am down and out for a few days, just taking it easy around here. No worries though, I have such awesome people to help me out. Scotland has been playing gopher anytime I need anything, my mother came up and played housekeeper/therapist yesterday, and my seester Jami is going to keep me company this afternoon. I have gotten flowers, visitors and all sorts of calls and texts to keep me occupied. So it really is not so bad. I probably couldn't have chosen an easier surgery for my first experience, it has been a piece of cake so far. Course, that could be the meds talking, I may change my mind in a few days/hours. But it's all good up in he-ya. Feel free to give me a holler, I don't have a whole lot going on for the next couple a days...

And a shout out to my bro, who just got his mission call to the Georgia, Atlanta mission. So very excited for my little Mo.

Peace out to everyone, with all their parts or without!

highlights

I am so totally bad, it has been a whole week since I posted last. So rather than boring you with the crazy details, I will hit the highlights...

1. Kitten still does not have a name. It is a boy, and he is wild and crazy with blue eyes and striped orange/brown fur. I am stumped. We have tossed around the following possibilities...

Mickey Blue Eyes

Chili Bean

Cinnamon Bear

Weasel

Picolo (pronounced peek-o-low)

Any ideas? I really have no clue... Our other cat is named Sugar, which is short for Brown Sugar (which was more about her coloring than her *sweet* personality) (because she bites) (and she really is not so sweet...)

2. Did the years first official campout with the parentals this weekend, and it was fab*you*luss! We went fishing and dad did the cowboy shoot so that was tons of fun. I liked getting out there before the memorial day rush, but even so the campsite was slammed... And M and D got to see the slapstick routine that is my relationship with Scotland, which was very entertaining to them. Plus, everything smells like campfire now, so that is fantastic!

3. The pink room is still under construction, but I am madly in love with the newly textured walls and the real wood floors that were hidden under the pepto pink shag! Hello gorgeous!

4. And I forgot to mention that last weekend (not camping weekend, the one before) we slipped down to PKY for a few brief hours to celebrate my seester Jami-girl's grad-gee-aye-shun. She is done with school, woot woot!

5. I am not the type of person that would put the phrase "woot woot" in a blog without serious consideration and thought. I am much too sophisticated for that business...

Introducing....

The newest member of our family....

That face! Those eyes!
I am completely and totally in love with this little baby...
No name yet, but we are thinking.....

The drive

It is dark and I am driving

Thoughts spin through my mind

I worry about everything

The car in the turn lane

The husband at home

The family I love

The children I want

I worry because I can't control

Can't make anything go the way I want it to

Can't change the past

Can't change the hurt

I want to be stronger

I want to be "that woman"

I want so much

My moods come and go

My goals do too

And yet, here I am again

Waiting for something

I am always waiting for something

Something big to change my life

Something big to change me

I am never done with waiting

For as soon as one big thing happens

The next is on the horizon

And I begin waiting again

Preparing for that next part of life

And the in between parts?

They get ignored and pushed aside

I am not unhappy

Please don't misunderstand

I love my life

But I am a "big moment" kind of girl

I am all about accomplishment

and less about working on it

I just want to get there

Get to my destination

I don't want to bother with the ride

That takes much too long

And I don't have time

I don't know why I don't have time

But I don't, so hurry

Hurry back

Hurry here

It's my turn

I'm ready

Not really but I want to be ready

And when it comes? When it finally comes?

And then I will be waiting again

Show-mance, not so much

I was a huge nerd in high school. Not the smart kind, just the socially awkward kind. So maybe not so much a nerd, but more like a dork. Yes. (We may as well get our terminology straight right in the beginning, right?) I didn't really fit in with any of the groups, I just flitted from clique to clique, friendly to all but member to none. I was a misfit... Ok, still am.

One of the groups that I really wanted to be a part of in high school was the Drama Freaks. (Don't ask me why, I guess freak is more socially acceptable than dork.) So one day on a whim, I tried out for a musical. Now it should be said that I was also not one of the Choir Nazis, so my tryout was probably way less than stellar. But thanks to lack of people at the tryouts, pretty much everyone made it. Including me.... So, my path to stardom was started that fateful day. And the show that would end all shows?

The Mark Twain Musical.

I know right? How fantastically lucky was I to be in the chorus for such a hugely popular show! I mean you have heard of it, right?

Right?

No?

Tap tap tap. Is this thing on?

Ok, so it wasn't the most well known musical production ever. And I had pretty much never heard of it, or of any of the songs in it. But my fellow chorus members and I celebrated nonetheless.

I am so serious, we were such dorks.

Anyways, practice for the show started right away and we threw ourselves into learning the songs and dance routines for the production.

Did I mention I was awkward? Dancing was really not a good thing for me. Not pretty I tell you what, not pretty...

So one day during practice, we were all gathered on the small stage getting ready for more choreography instruction. People were standing or sitting around where they could waiting for things to begin. I was sitting on a roman stage bench with my BFF Christine chit chatting between instructions. During a bit of downtime, we struck up a conversation with two Choir Nazi boys.

They were cute. Even though I would never admit it.

I flirted shamelessly and probably very badly as well. I was confident that my womanly powers of persuasion were working when the taller one got a very strange look on his face.

And then, time slowed down.

His face was slowly coming toward me, lips slightly pursed with a confident, debonair look.

I froze in terror. And yet, the face kept coming.

As his face came closer, I leaned backward. And his face came even closer and I leaned even farther. And his lips were inches from mine and then,





THUD



I hit the floor with enough force that the entire rehearsal was stopped and every cast member turned around to look at the clumsy, ridiculous girl who had fallen off the backless bench.

Oh yeah. I am really that awesome. That cool.

And the boy? He and his friend erupted into laughter at the girl who (literally) fell for their little charade.

Derrick? Are you there? I really did want to kiss you. I hope you know that. Derrick? Derrick?

Ahem.

And the flirtation that I thought was turning into a show-mance? False. Devastation. Poor, sad little high school junior. Socially awkward girl.

And then I am sure I ate a dozen glazed donuts. And the show went on.

And the beat goes on

For those of you that are a bit uncomfortable with bathroom humor, you may want to skip this post. But won't you please come back tomorrow?

I have been married to Scotland for almost ten months now. And in that ten months, I always tried to maintain that air of womanly mystery to keep my darling husband interested. You know what I am talking about, right? Always keep him wondering about the woman behind the eyes, what is she thinking, what is inside her, what drives her, etc. But somedays, the mystery takes a backseat to the need. Or the craziness. Sometimes that takes over too.

Anyway, I was attempting to nurture that mysterious persona one day with my non committal answers and my vague replies, when my plan backfired. After giving my husband "smoky eyes" and not answering several of his inquiries, I gave him a quixotic smile and then disappeared into the bathroom to let him simmer. After a moment of gloating over my victory with him, I glanced to the right and noticed the empty brown roll. I checked under the sink for an extra roll, and found just an empty sack.

Lovely. The only extra rolls of toilet paper are in the basement.

I opened the door just slightly, and peaked out to see if the coast was clear. Scotland was just down the hall, using his laptop in our bedroom.

I debated whether or not I should ask him for help. After all, then he would know that I actually *gasp* use toilet paper. Or worse, he would assume that I actually go #2! But if I crept out of the bathroom and down the hall, he might see my pantsless self dashing down to the basement. And then he would know that I am clinically insane.

I was horrified.

Either way, I was in trouble. Either way, I would lose that mystery, that draw, and the reason for Scotland to be inexplicably in love with me. It was hopeless.

I stayed there for a good five or ten minutes, contemplating which would be the lesser of the two evils. And all the while, I am sure he was wondering what plague had infected me so badly that I had holed up in the tiny bathroom for relief from it.

Can you guess what I did?

Either way, it doesn't really matter, because what I realized is with a blog like this, most especially with a post like this, I have already lost that air of mystery. I have already confirmed to him that I go #2, that I consider running to the basement pantsless rather than asking for help and countless other (horrifying) things. He already knows that sometimes I drool when I sleep, and my feet stink occasionally, and that sometimes I am really just plain lazy. And he still loves me for it. Or in spite of it. Either way.

And just so I don't look like the only one with all of these faults, I would like to announce that he is a sleep-farter. But I love him still.

I rest my case.