For those not living in Denver:
Just hours after President Obama signed the Stimulus Bill, the Democratic Congressional Delegation held a Stimulus Celebration & Explanation Party. Attended by mostly democrats, invited by Progress Now Colorado, the event was held at Hamburger Mary's.
For those unfamiliar with Hamburger Mary's, nightly entertainment includes:
"Drag Queen Bingo"-held on Tuesday Nights (which was last night)
"Dream Girls"
"Slut Bingo"
& one of their newest, "Beyond Drag-where fantasy hits the dance floor."
Recently appointed Colorado Senator Michael Bennet, former superintendant of Denver Public Schools, was there to answer questions about the newly signed bill.
Why does this not surprise me? It was quoted by President Obama, "These are the types of every day people we are out to help." Another pet project of the Democrats: promoting the homosexual agenda.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
A Letter To President Obama
Dear Mr. President,
Please don't come to my state tomorrow to sign the infamous $787 Billion economic stimulus bill. What happened to your promise of change, reaching out to the other side and becoming more bipartisan? Your excuse was something needed to happen fast, pass this bill in a hurry. But you had no problem waiting a few days in order to make a public granstand by signing it in Denver? It could have been signed quite efficiently in the Oval Office. Come on, Mr. President, where is your integrity?
What will the cost be for you to board Air Force One, fly to Colorado with your entourage to sign a bill that creates an enormous debt for our children & grandchildren? How much money will our city fork out for added security to accomodate this ostentatious stopover of yours?
Please don't bring your pork-filled spending bill here to sign. Mr. President, you made several promises to the American public:
"To make it impossible for congress to sneak pork barrel projects into law."
Really? This bill is riddled with pet pork projects.
You promised to "make government more open & transparent, eliminating meetings where laws are written secretly, out of the public eye."
Seems like much of this bill was written in secret, shutting out Republican lawmakers.
Mr. President, I am trying hard to understand why you feel the need to come to Colorado for this historic event. Back in August, you accepted the Democratic Party's nomination as the first black man to run for president, in Denver. I was hopeful. Quite possibly, as a nation we could finally put race and its prejudices aside and truly become the United States Of America. Your own words were:
"I will restore our moral standing, so that America is once again that last best hope for all who are called to the cause of freedom, who long for lives of peace, who yearn for a better future."
But Mr. President, in office less than a month, you've already weakened that hope. Not only have you gone back on your promises, but you are about to sign one of the most contoversial pieces of legislation ever. You want to remind us of the historic nature of your nomination in an attempt to make this bill more palatable. Let's create historical & monumental moments to rally the American public together to make this bitter pill easier to swallow. As a Coloradan, I am not fooled by this attempt to sugar coat this massive, devisive legislation. Colorado is home to the National Renewable Energy Laboratory. You will sign the bill at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science which sports the largest solar panel source in our state. But what does this do to restore our moral standing for all who are called to freedom who long for peace?
I'm afraid I may find myself at the anti-stimulus rally: Barak Obama You Don't Know Stimulus
Please don't come to my state tomorrow to sign the infamous $787 Billion economic stimulus bill. What happened to your promise of change, reaching out to the other side and becoming more bipartisan? Your excuse was something needed to happen fast, pass this bill in a hurry. But you had no problem waiting a few days in order to make a public granstand by signing it in Denver? It could have been signed quite efficiently in the Oval Office. Come on, Mr. President, where is your integrity?
What will the cost be for you to board Air Force One, fly to Colorado with your entourage to sign a bill that creates an enormous debt for our children & grandchildren? How much money will our city fork out for added security to accomodate this ostentatious stopover of yours?
Please don't bring your pork-filled spending bill here to sign. Mr. President, you made several promises to the American public:
"To make it impossible for congress to sneak pork barrel projects into law."
Really? This bill is riddled with pet pork projects.
You promised to "make government more open & transparent, eliminating meetings where laws are written secretly, out of the public eye."
Seems like much of this bill was written in secret, shutting out Republican lawmakers.
Mr. President, I am trying hard to understand why you feel the need to come to Colorado for this historic event. Back in August, you accepted the Democratic Party's nomination as the first black man to run for president, in Denver. I was hopeful. Quite possibly, as a nation we could finally put race and its prejudices aside and truly become the United States Of America. Your own words were:
"I will restore our moral standing, so that America is once again that last best hope for all who are called to the cause of freedom, who long for lives of peace, who yearn for a better future."
But Mr. President, in office less than a month, you've already weakened that hope. Not only have you gone back on your promises, but you are about to sign one of the most contoversial pieces of legislation ever. You want to remind us of the historic nature of your nomination in an attempt to make this bill more palatable. Let's create historical & monumental moments to rally the American public together to make this bitter pill easier to swallow. As a Coloradan, I am not fooled by this attempt to sugar coat this massive, devisive legislation. Colorado is home to the National Renewable Energy Laboratory. You will sign the bill at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science which sports the largest solar panel source in our state. But what does this do to restore our moral standing for all who are called to freedom who long for peace?
I'm afraid I may find myself at the anti-stimulus rally: Barak Obama You Don't Know Stimulus
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
A Mother's Love
Christina & Ethan
The best way to give Ethan breathing treatments-while sleeping. He fights it a lot less.
The best way to give Ethan breathing treatments-while sleeping. He fights it a lot less.
Monday, February 09, 2009
A Week Of Love
I love and hate Valentine's Day. It's been a time of fun, creativity, giving, love & chocolate. The day has brought hurt, disappointment, tears, broken hearts, break-ups & sadness. I've talked to many who would like the holiday banned. Truthfully, I've felt the same way many times. But rather than focus on the negative this year, I'd like to set my heart on the joy of giving.
More to come on this!
More to come on this!
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Friendship
The Singing Owl at The Owl's Song gave me this Friendship award. Being the month with the Love/Valentine holiday, I thought I'd pass it along. Like Singing Owl, I am amazed at the friendships I've obtained via the internet and blogging. I am thankful for all of them. I'm supposed to give it to 8 other people. Instead, I'm awarding it to all of my blogging friends who are on my blog list. The comments and encouragement from each of you has been amazing. Love you all!
"These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award."
So if you feel so inclined, please grab the button/paragraph, and pass it along. Oh, and please check out the Owl's Song. Plenty of food for thought.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Thunk Thursday
I read labels on food. Ethan can't eat milk or milk protein. It can be tricky, as milk is often hidden in obscure ingredients. I appreciate labels that boldly print CONTAINS: MILK. Sometimes labels are a bit overdone. This one cracked me up.
I suppose if one didn't know it before, they know now. Tilpia is fish. I wonder if the milk jug reads "CONTAINS MILK" after the ingredients.
I suppose if one didn't know it before, they know now. Tilpia is fish. I wonder if the milk jug reads "CONTAINS MILK" after the ingredients.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Growing Old Gracefully-Not Me
Don't get me wrong, Grace is a wonderful thing. Without God's grace, where would I be? It is an amazing gift to receive. Growing older happens whether I believe in it or not. You young people will have to trust me on this one. No matter how thin you are, how fresh and vibrant your skin looks, or how much you work out, your body is headed downhill. Fast. The cool thing about Grace is, your inward person can be renewed daily. The outside? Well, you can do a lot to preserve it, but it is going to age whether you like it or not.
When I was much younger, I loved reading the scriptures of gray hair being a crown of glory. I was actually excited to embrace that crown. My dad has beautiful white hair. As long as I can remember, he has had at least some gray. Even in his twenties. I inherited his curly hair, so why not his white hair? My hair would be glowing!
As I grew closer to the mature age of 40, I changed my mind. When someone mistook me for being Hilary's grandmother, that did it for me. I ditched the white hair for some color. I will continue in my inward renewal, even though my outward self is deteriorating. But why shouldn't my outward appearance reflect what's on the inside? I choose to add as much life and color as possible as long as I'm able. One day, maybe I will be ok with the proverbial crown of glory. For now, I'm keeping it fired up red.
(For anyone interested in my hair saga in pictures, I've posted them here. A friend is nearing 40 and in a quandary as to what to do with her own hair. So I shared my obsession with her.) If you feel dead inside, ask God to ignite the fire.
When I was much younger, I loved reading the scriptures of gray hair being a crown of glory. I was actually excited to embrace that crown. My dad has beautiful white hair. As long as I can remember, he has had at least some gray. Even in his twenties. I inherited his curly hair, so why not his white hair? My hair would be glowing!
As I grew closer to the mature age of 40, I changed my mind. When someone mistook me for being Hilary's grandmother, that did it for me. I ditched the white hair for some color. I will continue in my inward renewal, even though my outward self is deteriorating. But why shouldn't my outward appearance reflect what's on the inside? I choose to add as much life and color as possible as long as I'm able. One day, maybe I will be ok with the proverbial crown of glory. For now, I'm keeping it fired up red.
(For anyone interested in my hair saga in pictures, I've posted them here. A friend is nearing 40 and in a quandary as to what to do with her own hair. So I shared my obsession with her.) If you feel dead inside, ask God to ignite the fire.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Super Bowl Menu
Not sure why I am having such a hard time with my superbowl menu. I add items, subract, scrap the whole plan and start over. But now I am stuck One item will adorn our menu no matter what. Brisket. Because even if I wanted to, it wouldn't fit in my freezer to save for a later date. Who buys a 13 pound chunk of meat? I doubt I need anything else on the menu. There is no way we could eat all of that. I don't own a pan large enough to cook it either.
So we are having Beef Brisket Sandwiches. I hope it isn't a huge failure. I'll be posting the rest of the menu and how it turns out on my recipe page. Wish me luck. It's a beast.
So we are having Beef Brisket Sandwiches. I hope it isn't a huge failure. I'll be posting the rest of the menu and how it turns out on my recipe page. Wish me luck. It's a beast.
Friday, January 30, 2009
My Favorite Season
Summer has always been my favorite month. Think about that for a moment. Yes, someone did say that. (Anyone from Minnesota?)
My inlaws were here for dinner on Sunday, as they always are. Often we sit on the front porch before we eat, and eat our meal on the back deck. I love being outdoors. My father-in-law came in and said, "I don't think I'm going to sit outside. It's too hot!" I had to chuckle. This is the same man who lived in Phoenix for the past 40+ years. I recall visiting him in the summer. In the late afternoons, when I thought it couldn't possibly get any hotter, he'd grab himself a frosty mug of ice cold beer, go outside in the heat, and read the newspaper.
Now for some, this might not seem like a big deal. If that is the case, you've never been to Arizona in the summer. Barefoot in the park? Nobody goes barefoot, except for a visitor to the area who doesn't realize that one step on the hot sidewalk is equivalent to standing in a frying pan while it is heated on the stove. I tell you, Phoenix in the summer is hotter than hot.
For Sarabeth's 1st birthday, we were in Arizona. We planned an outdoor party at my inlaws. With the backyard pool, those who wanted to could cool off. That's another laugh. The water temperature in the pool is easily in the upper 80's, so it isn't terribly cool or refreshing. It's like diving into a deep bath tub sauna. The day of her party, the temperature soared to 119 degrees. But we sweated it out. I can't believe we were out there for hours. The following day, it was 122 degrees. I do believe we could have cooked an egg on the sidewalk had we tried.
So that my friends, it why I love Colorado. My favorite season doesn't encompass 7 months. I appreciate the heat of summer after the snow in winter. Life without change is boring.
(This was written in July, but was never posted. With the stretch of cold weather, I enjoy thoughts of summer.)
My inlaws were here for dinner on Sunday, as they always are. Often we sit on the front porch before we eat, and eat our meal on the back deck. I love being outdoors. My father-in-law came in and said, "I don't think I'm going to sit outside. It's too hot!" I had to chuckle. This is the same man who lived in Phoenix for the past 40+ years. I recall visiting him in the summer. In the late afternoons, when I thought it couldn't possibly get any hotter, he'd grab himself a frosty mug of ice cold beer, go outside in the heat, and read the newspaper.
Now for some, this might not seem like a big deal. If that is the case, you've never been to Arizona in the summer. Barefoot in the park? Nobody goes barefoot, except for a visitor to the area who doesn't realize that one step on the hot sidewalk is equivalent to standing in a frying pan while it is heated on the stove. I tell you, Phoenix in the summer is hotter than hot.
For Sarabeth's 1st birthday, we were in Arizona. We planned an outdoor party at my inlaws. With the backyard pool, those who wanted to could cool off. That's another laugh. The water temperature in the pool is easily in the upper 80's, so it isn't terribly cool or refreshing. It's like diving into a deep bath tub sauna. The day of her party, the temperature soared to 119 degrees. But we sweated it out. I can't believe we were out there for hours. The following day, it was 122 degrees. I do believe we could have cooked an egg on the sidewalk had we tried.
So that my friends, it why I love Colorado. My favorite season doesn't encompass 7 months. I appreciate the heat of summer after the snow in winter. Life without change is boring.
(This was written in July, but was never posted. With the stretch of cold weather, I enjoy thoughts of summer.)
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
What Not To Do
What not to do when it is 3 degrees outside.
1) Forget to check what the temperature before choosing a short-sleeve shirt to wear.
2) Be late for an appointment and leave you hair a little damp and rush outside.
3) Brush snow off the car with a bare hand, then use your wet hand to fasten the metal seat belt. (It was reminiscent of trying to get ice out of the old fashion metal ice cube trays and getting my fingers stuck to the metal.)
4) Try to use the power windows.
5) Rush from the car to your appointment, with plenty of snow underfoot. Sure, the snow down your backside won't melt while you are outside. But just wait until you warm up inside.
1) Forget to check what the temperature before choosing a short-sleeve shirt to wear.
2) Be late for an appointment and leave you hair a little damp and rush outside.
3) Brush snow off the car with a bare hand, then use your wet hand to fasten the metal seat belt. (It was reminiscent of trying to get ice out of the old fashion metal ice cube trays and getting my fingers stuck to the metal.)
4) Try to use the power windows.
5) Rush from the car to your appointment, with plenty of snow underfoot. Sure, the snow down your backside won't melt while you are outside. But just wait until you warm up inside.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
A Walk
I took a stroll down memory lane
I went as far as I could go
But every memory I did pass
told my hurried feet to slow.
Tears of joy filled my eyes
Each tiny baby I beheld.
I watched as every one of them
grew taller, wise, on wings they sailed.
But then I found a curious thing
I stopped to look more closely.
There before me laid a dream
A faded, unborn fantasy.
I stood there for a moment
Not knowing what to do.
Should I take this lifeless thing
That once held much allure?
And while I mused I didn't see
My heart embraced entirely
The hope of one forgotten dream
It brought to life indulgently.
My hands began to close the doors
On happy memories.
With quicker steps my legs did run
To reach this neweset destiny.
I went as far as I could go
But every memory I did pass
told my hurried feet to slow.
Tears of joy filled my eyes
Each tiny baby I beheld.
I watched as every one of them
grew taller, wise, on wings they sailed.
But then I found a curious thing
I stopped to look more closely.
There before me laid a dream
A faded, unborn fantasy.
I stood there for a moment
Not knowing what to do.
Should I take this lifeless thing
That once held much allure?
And while I mused I didn't see
My heart embraced entirely
The hope of one forgotten dream
It brought to life indulgently.
My hands began to close the doors
On happy memories.
With quicker steps my legs did run
To reach this neweset destiny.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Happy Birthday Laurie!
(Someone told me he was concerned that the steroids might be affecting me adversely. He asked that I NOT blog about body parts again, lol. So I promised I wouldn't.)
Today is my sister, Laurie's birthday. She mentioned last week that she would be turning 45. There is no way! I'm 45. Remember my 44th? I do, and I so now I am 45. When my sister and I were little, we were about the same size. People were always asking my mom if we were twins. I wanted to tell them, "we most certainly are not! I am almost 2 years older." But I never did. I was too shy. But maybe I was mistaken about the 2 years . Afterall, we are both 45, so we must have been twins.
A sister is a wonderful thing. A sister is better than a friend. A sister will tell you the way it is, even when you don't want to hear it. Back when I thought my hair was growing out with beautiful, natural blond highlights, it was my sister who screeched, "aaaah...your hair is completely gray!" I didn't believe her. But when I looked at pictures, sure enough. She was right. That was when I started coloring my hair.
Another time Laurie was in Denver. We were at my home, chattering away in the bathroom. We were giggling & gossiping while I applied makeup & fixed my hair. It felt like we were teenagers again, sharing the bathroom mirror, primping before we headed out for the night. Laurie loves to talk and between breaths, in a loud sucking in noise she gasped, "Joanne, you have a mustache!" As sisters sometimes do, I wanted to say, "yeah, but have you seen how big your hair is? Big hair isn't in anymore." But I didn't. That would have been childish. And I wasn't about to mention anything about big backsides. Afterall, we weren't 15. We were both like 35.
(Oops! Sorry Christopher. I know I promised I wouldn't talk body parts. Maybe I do have a problem.)
My sister is my friend & biggest cheerleader. She listens when I talk. She makes me laugh. I wish we could share a bathroom and laugh together more often. Happy Birthday Laurie! And I really don't believe you are 45, as that means I'm only 46 for a little bit longer. And I still don't believe I could be 46. Wish I was there to celebrate. I'd leave you a pillow present. I'm going to have to tell your boys all about pillow presents.
Today is my sister, Laurie's birthday. She mentioned last week that she would be turning 45. There is no way! I'm 45. Remember my 44th? I do, and I so now I am 45. When my sister and I were little, we were about the same size. People were always asking my mom if we were twins. I wanted to tell them, "we most certainly are not! I am almost 2 years older." But I never did. I was too shy. But maybe I was mistaken about the 2 years . Afterall, we are both 45, so we must have been twins.
A sister is a wonderful thing. A sister is better than a friend. A sister will tell you the way it is, even when you don't want to hear it. Back when I thought my hair was growing out with beautiful, natural blond highlights, it was my sister who screeched, "aaaah...your hair is completely gray!" I didn't believe her. But when I looked at pictures, sure enough. She was right. That was when I started coloring my hair.
Another time Laurie was in Denver. We were at my home, chattering away in the bathroom. We were giggling & gossiping while I applied makeup & fixed my hair. It felt like we were teenagers again, sharing the bathroom mirror, primping before we headed out for the night. Laurie loves to talk and between breaths, in a loud sucking in noise she gasped, "Joanne, you have a mustache!" As sisters sometimes do, I wanted to say, "yeah, but have you seen how big your hair is? Big hair isn't in anymore." But I didn't. That would have been childish. And I wasn't about to mention anything about big backsides. Afterall, we weren't 15. We were both like 35.
(Oops! Sorry Christopher. I know I promised I wouldn't talk body parts. Maybe I do have a problem.)
My sister is my friend & biggest cheerleader. She listens when I talk. She makes me laugh. I wish we could share a bathroom and laugh together more often. Happy Birthday Laurie! And I really don't believe you are 45, as that means I'm only 46 for a little bit longer. And I still don't believe I could be 46. Wish I was there to celebrate. I'd leave you a pillow present. I'm going to have to tell your boys all about pillow presents.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Anyone See A Theme Here?
After posting this pic of my hair it got me to thinking.
I'm in love with Rich Reds.
I'm in love with Rich Reds.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Slow Part 3
Through the years, I occasionally try to pull a fast one over on my body. Nothing slips past these watchful organs. It objects to things that I think it should like. In the Spring, it sniffles over the beautiful blossoms. It itches and becomes teary or sneezy over the pollen. It doesn't like to be overloaded by anything seemingly foreign. It objects to foods, even ones that I find to be delicious. And what's with disliking fresh fish & seafood?
The displeasure of the latter took awhile to figure out. (Because maybe I'm slow?) I experienced violent backlash it seemed, around special events: my anniversary, my birthday. On these occasions, Michael and I enjoy going out to eat. Because I have kids who won't eat fish, I refrain from cooking meat with fins. So it is a treat to go out for fresh fish, shrimp, lobster, crab smothered in garlic butter...yum! But each and every time I endulge, I am most miserable. While most people's digestive systems have no problem with this, I am sensitive to the bacteria that is killed by freezing fish, but not merely cooking. So while others digest this foreign stuff, I cannot. (Hooray for me! My body works the way it was designed. It likes purity.)
Do you remember this post, where I shared my sad dental tale? Not only did I hate my new crown, but I think my body hated it too. It never could get used to this porcelain imitation. To protest, it became inflamed, trying to root the darn thing right out of place. The dentist's solution? Root Canal, as if it was the root that had brought about this misery.
It all happened so fast. I went in for a consultation and walked out without my roots. What I didn't realize ahead of time was they don't just drill the tooth out. The cavern is then filled with plastic. Well, it's actually a cousin to latex, gutta percha.
Within a couple of days, I experienced difficulty breathing & chest tightness. My asthma inhaler didn't seem to help. I took Benadryl and phoned the endodontist to inquire if I might be having a reaction to the antibiotic he'd prescribed.
Since that fateful November day, I've had breathing problems. The doctors can't figure out why. I use my albuterol inhaler several times a day, inhale a steroid, but it isn't improving. Two weeks ago, rather than undergo another root canal, I opted to have another tooth drilled out and a fancy, new filling inserted. The next day I broke out in hives, and the next day, and the next for 5 days. The dr. prescribed prednisone.
So where am I going with this long, drawn-out 3 day post? It finally occurred to me that quite possibly I am allergic to the gutta percha in my root canal. My immune system is working overtime trying to rid my body of this foreign substance, which is why I can't breathe. I don't know what the answer is, but I can quit googling "shortness of breath, chest tightness, swollen lymphy nodes, fever..." in an attempt to figure out what mysterious disease I have.
Possibly, I am completely wrong. But with so many people today with autoimmune diseases and the rate of kids with autism skyrocketing, there has to be a reason. I can't help but wonder if it isn't chemicals and other declared safe products on the market that we ingest and put in our bodies that never should be. Immune systems become overloaded by so many foreign invaders that they can no longer distinguish the good guys from the bad.
In my case, it could also be some sort of bacteria. Afterall, I know I react to bacteria in fish.
My dentist said if the tooth (or the filling) is causing my breathing problems, it is an easy solution. Pull the tooth. And then what? Oh, then I can get a tooth replacement and an artificial dental implant. Like my body is going to be happy with that???
So if anyone out there has any suggestions or opinions, I'm happy to hear them.
The displeasure of the latter took awhile to figure out. (Because maybe I'm slow?) I experienced violent backlash it seemed, around special events: my anniversary, my birthday. On these occasions, Michael and I enjoy going out to eat. Because I have kids who won't eat fish, I refrain from cooking meat with fins. So it is a treat to go out for fresh fish, shrimp, lobster, crab smothered in garlic butter...yum! But each and every time I endulge, I am most miserable. While most people's digestive systems have no problem with this, I am sensitive to the bacteria that is killed by freezing fish, but not merely cooking. So while others digest this foreign stuff, I cannot. (Hooray for me! My body works the way it was designed. It likes purity.)
Do you remember this post, where I shared my sad dental tale? Not only did I hate my new crown, but I think my body hated it too. It never could get used to this porcelain imitation. To protest, it became inflamed, trying to root the darn thing right out of place. The dentist's solution? Root Canal, as if it was the root that had brought about this misery.
It all happened so fast. I went in for a consultation and walked out without my roots. What I didn't realize ahead of time was they don't just drill the tooth out. The cavern is then filled with plastic. Well, it's actually a cousin to latex, gutta percha.
Within a couple of days, I experienced difficulty breathing & chest tightness. My asthma inhaler didn't seem to help. I took Benadryl and phoned the endodontist to inquire if I might be having a reaction to the antibiotic he'd prescribed.
Since that fateful November day, I've had breathing problems. The doctors can't figure out why. I use my albuterol inhaler several times a day, inhale a steroid, but it isn't improving. Two weeks ago, rather than undergo another root canal, I opted to have another tooth drilled out and a fancy, new filling inserted. The next day I broke out in hives, and the next day, and the next for 5 days. The dr. prescribed prednisone.
So where am I going with this long, drawn-out 3 day post? It finally occurred to me that quite possibly I am allergic to the gutta percha in my root canal. My immune system is working overtime trying to rid my body of this foreign substance, which is why I can't breathe. I don't know what the answer is, but I can quit googling "shortness of breath, chest tightness, swollen lymphy nodes, fever..." in an attempt to figure out what mysterious disease I have.
Possibly, I am completely wrong. But with so many people today with autoimmune diseases and the rate of kids with autism skyrocketing, there has to be a reason. I can't help but wonder if it isn't chemicals and other declared safe products on the market that we ingest and put in our bodies that never should be. Immune systems become overloaded by so many foreign invaders that they can no longer distinguish the good guys from the bad.
In my case, it could also be some sort of bacteria. Afterall, I know I react to bacteria in fish.
My dentist said if the tooth (or the filling) is causing my breathing problems, it is an easy solution. Pull the tooth. And then what? Oh, then I can get a tooth replacement and an artificial dental implant. Like my body is going to be happy with that???
So if anyone out there has any suggestions or opinions, I'm happy to hear them.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Fiery Red
I needed a change.
Fiery red sounded hot, so I revved it up. It won't last long, as my blondeness fights with a vengeance to take back it's rightful possession. But for a few days I'll live boldly.
It's better than dull gray.
Fiery red sounded hot, so I revved it up. It won't last long, as my blondeness fights with a vengeance to take back it's rightful possession. But for a few days I'll live boldly.
It's better than dull gray.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Slow Part 2
After my tonsillectomy, life became fuzzy. Ok, maybe it was complicated by the fact that I was a teenager. My body was wildly producing things like hormones. I doubt I was feeding it properly or taking care of it properly. It functioned as well as it could under the circumstances. For some reason, that whole monthly cycle thing spit and sputtered. I didn't deal well with the fluxuations.
Along came another medical professional who decided I had one more undesireable body part. An ovary had to come out. Once inside, he declared I was a mess, cut out pie-shaped pieces from each ovary, cleared out my clogged tubes, and delivered his grim message that I would probably never have children because my body didn't like me. What he really meant was my body didn't like being altered. He just didn't know it at the time. Oh, and while he was inside, he spied this little organ named appendix. Foolishly believing it to be a useless appendage that would later cause me problems, he cut that right out too.
I'm sure he thought my body would be elated and celebrate with top notch health. Instead, I noticed I was sick much more often. My body did not fight off bugs very well. Each organ in my body has a function. Sure we can live without many, but optimally, I believe I personally function best with them. I need my tonsils & appendix to do their job in fighting infection and keeping my body clean. The same way my lungs, kidneys, & liver do their job. I have this amazing cleaning system that functions in conjunction with everthing else. Without all of the components, this fine machine deteriorates.
Miraculously, I went on to get pregnant after my ovarian surgery. I was pleased with how well my body functioned with its newfound fertility, so went on to have 5 children. In the middle of my wonderful fertility, my other half began questioning whether my body really new what it was doing by producing all of these children. I tried to assure him, that I was thrilled with whatever and however it chose to reproduce. He didn't agree.
So in our attempts to come to a compromise, I allowed myself to let a doctor tweak with my almost-still perfect body. I quickly discovered hormones not produced naturally by my body caused terrible confusion. My parts just don't know how to handle chemically produced substances. I wised up quit altering my body with hormone pills.
My next attempt was an IUD. It was this little plastic T-shaped device. It's mission, once inserted into my uterus, is to keep out any occupants. This was a newer invention without copper or chemicals. So how exactly was it supposed to work? My guess is being plastic, my body would fight to reject it, making my womb a hostile environment for life. Gosh, this sounds like a good idea? It goes against the natural function of this particular organ.
Foolishly, I agreed to let MR. Dr. talk me into using one. The army of militants within my body rose up and fought against plastic IUD. I went back to my Dr. to tell him of the dissent. He asked my how I knew my body was rejecting this little, tiny piece of plastic. I handed it to him. He was impressed. He agreed that the only way for my body to expel it was it had to contract and push it out the same way my uterus contracted to push a baby out. Impressive how my body functions, isn't it? It likes things normal, so why do I try to mess with it?
Along came another medical professional who decided I had one more undesireable body part. An ovary had to come out. Once inside, he declared I was a mess, cut out pie-shaped pieces from each ovary, cleared out my clogged tubes, and delivered his grim message that I would probably never have children because my body didn't like me. What he really meant was my body didn't like being altered. He just didn't know it at the time. Oh, and while he was inside, he spied this little organ named appendix. Foolishly believing it to be a useless appendage that would later cause me problems, he cut that right out too.
I'm sure he thought my body would be elated and celebrate with top notch health. Instead, I noticed I was sick much more often. My body did not fight off bugs very well. Each organ in my body has a function. Sure we can live without many, but optimally, I believe I personally function best with them. I need my tonsils & appendix to do their job in fighting infection and keeping my body clean. The same way my lungs, kidneys, & liver do their job. I have this amazing cleaning system that functions in conjunction with everthing else. Without all of the components, this fine machine deteriorates.
Miraculously, I went on to get pregnant after my ovarian surgery. I was pleased with how well my body functioned with its newfound fertility, so went on to have 5 children. In the middle of my wonderful fertility, my other half began questioning whether my body really new what it was doing by producing all of these children. I tried to assure him, that I was thrilled with whatever and however it chose to reproduce. He didn't agree.
So in our attempts to come to a compromise, I allowed myself to let a doctor tweak with my almost-still perfect body. I quickly discovered hormones not produced naturally by my body caused terrible confusion. My parts just don't know how to handle chemically produced substances. I wised up quit altering my body with hormone pills.
My next attempt was an IUD. It was this little plastic T-shaped device. It's mission, once inserted into my uterus, is to keep out any occupants. This was a newer invention without copper or chemicals. So how exactly was it supposed to work? My guess is being plastic, my body would fight to reject it, making my womb a hostile environment for life. Gosh, this sounds like a good idea? It goes against the natural function of this particular organ.
Foolishly, I agreed to let MR. Dr. talk me into using one. The army of militants within my body rose up and fought against plastic IUD. I went back to my Dr. to tell him of the dissent. He asked my how I knew my body was rejecting this little, tiny piece of plastic. I handed it to him. He was impressed. He agreed that the only way for my body to expel it was it had to contract and push it out the same way my uterus contracted to push a baby out. Impressive how my body functions, isn't it? It likes things normal, so why do I try to mess with it?
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Maybe I'm Slow
I should have figured this out a long time ago. Oh wait, I think I did. It must have slipped my mind. I should be thankful for gentle reminders. But I'm not. So here it is: My body was created perfectly.
What? Is that laughing I hear? Go ahead and chuckle. I'll wait. But it is true.
So what does this perfect status mean for all intents and purposes? In order to maintain this flawlessness, I have to keep everything in working order. I cannot allow substitutions, alterations or changes. To do so creates a substandard machine. Seriously. If I remove parts or add new ones, my physical body rises up in rebellion. It fights to keep out foreigners. I am filled with tiny insurgents who know how to get the job done.
Dramatic? Yes. But it is the only way I can explain why my physical self does the things it does. Currently, I am living in all out revolt mode. I should have seen this coming. It isn't as if I didn't know better.
Do I sound like I've had a revelation? Because it feels like I have. I suppose I should back up a bit. When God created my very being, he gave my all of the parts necessary to have a smooth running life. I'm talking about my physical being. I am designed to operate efficiently. My intricate parts work together in harmony for the health of all organs-without foreign assistance. All are necessary.
Around the time I was 15, a medical doctor deemed that I should have my tonsils removed. I don't recall that they were a problem. Sure, they would swell from time-to-time. But that was part of their job. My tonsils were hard at work trying to remove foreign substances like viruses from my body. Because they performed so well, some dr. guy decided they were a problem. He wanted them out.
Truthfully, from what I remember, the real reason was because my sister was having hers removed. We sort of had a family history that necessitated tonsil removal. My brother was 3 when he had his yanked, my older sister was around 15. She had a terrible time with it. So when my younger sister presented with whatever symptoms the professionals judged "fix by surgical removal," they also decided to kill two birds with one stone. Let's go ahead and pull out Joanne's tonsils while we are at it. She will likely need it done sooner or later.
My first indication that my body wasn't happy about this intrusion, was immediately after I was given an injection of morphine. In violent protest of the impending surgery, my stomach attempted to rid my body of this nasty chemical. It didn't realize, this was not a normal ingestion. It had entered unnaturally via a vein. In spite of its valiant attempts, it couldn't do what it tried in vain to do. In the end, the medical profession won out. My tonsils were removed and I was sent on my merry way.
My body did not like the loss of one of its members. It was sad and rejected.
(Not being fond of overly long posts, I've decided to extend this epiphany over several days. I do think it will all make sense if you can make it to the end. Thank-you for your patience.)
What? Is that laughing I hear? Go ahead and chuckle. I'll wait. But it is true.
So what does this perfect status mean for all intents and purposes? In order to maintain this flawlessness, I have to keep everything in working order. I cannot allow substitutions, alterations or changes. To do so creates a substandard machine. Seriously. If I remove parts or add new ones, my physical body rises up in rebellion. It fights to keep out foreigners. I am filled with tiny insurgents who know how to get the job done.
Dramatic? Yes. But it is the only way I can explain why my physical self does the things it does. Currently, I am living in all out revolt mode. I should have seen this coming. It isn't as if I didn't know better.
Do I sound like I've had a revelation? Because it feels like I have. I suppose I should back up a bit. When God created my very being, he gave my all of the parts necessary to have a smooth running life. I'm talking about my physical being. I am designed to operate efficiently. My intricate parts work together in harmony for the health of all organs-without foreign assistance. All are necessary.
Around the time I was 15, a medical doctor deemed that I should have my tonsils removed. I don't recall that they were a problem. Sure, they would swell from time-to-time. But that was part of their job. My tonsils were hard at work trying to remove foreign substances like viruses from my body. Because they performed so well, some dr. guy decided they were a problem. He wanted them out.
Truthfully, from what I remember, the real reason was because my sister was having hers removed. We sort of had a family history that necessitated tonsil removal. My brother was 3 when he had his yanked, my older sister was around 15. She had a terrible time with it. So when my younger sister presented with whatever symptoms the professionals judged "fix by surgical removal," they also decided to kill two birds with one stone. Let's go ahead and pull out Joanne's tonsils while we are at it. She will likely need it done sooner or later.
My first indication that my body wasn't happy about this intrusion, was immediately after I was given an injection of morphine. In violent protest of the impending surgery, my stomach attempted to rid my body of this nasty chemical. It didn't realize, this was not a normal ingestion. It had entered unnaturally via a vein. In spite of its valiant attempts, it couldn't do what it tried in vain to do. In the end, the medical profession won out. My tonsils were removed and I was sent on my merry way.
My body did not like the loss of one of its members. It was sad and rejected.
(Not being fond of overly long posts, I've decided to extend this epiphany over several days. I do think it will all make sense if you can make it to the end. Thank-you for your patience.)
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Change
I wasn't sure I could make the trip yesterday. The steroids have provided relief from the hives and breathing comfortably is nice, but averaging 3-4 hours of sleep each night isn't as grand. As a mom, it just doesn't matter. You do what you have to do regardless of health, lack of sleep, or any of the other ailments that plague mothers. A mom's job is never finished.
Sarabeth and I were out the door by 7 a.m. Driving through thick, heavy fog for over an hour felt a bit eery. It wasn't the pleasant drive I remember from nine years ago, when Christina and I made the trip for her college orientation. In 1999, we passed miles and miles of beautiful, green cornfields. A calming peace of being out in the country settled into my soul. We were leaving the big city and I'd deposit my daughter in a smaller, slower-paced college town where she'd be safe and people were friendly. (A parent needs a bit of deception to deal with the separation anxiety of losing your first child to a big, scary world.)
Sarabeth is our 4th child to leave our lovely home to live in cramped quarters, spending an insane amount of money, in order to gain a proper education. It should be an easy task to accomplish, what with the experience we've had.
(Grr...I'm not sure what happened. When I hit publish, I lost the entire second half of this post. I don't have the time or emotion to try to re-write my thoughts. Maybe I can pick it up tomorrow or in the next couple of days.)
Sarabeth and I were out the door by 7 a.m. Driving through thick, heavy fog for over an hour felt a bit eery. It wasn't the pleasant drive I remember from nine years ago, when Christina and I made the trip for her college orientation. In 1999, we passed miles and miles of beautiful, green cornfields. A calming peace of being out in the country settled into my soul. We were leaving the big city and I'd deposit my daughter in a smaller, slower-paced college town where she'd be safe and people were friendly. (A parent needs a bit of deception to deal with the separation anxiety of losing your first child to a big, scary world.)
Sarabeth is our 4th child to leave our lovely home to live in cramped quarters, spending an insane amount of money, in order to gain a proper education. It should be an easy task to accomplish, what with the experience we've had.
(Grr...I'm not sure what happened. When I hit publish, I lost the entire second half of this post. I don't have the time or emotion to try to re-write my thoughts. Maybe I can pick it up tomorrow or in the next couple of days.)
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
My Insides Are Jumping
I remember as a kid, having "butterflies in my stomach." It usually happened before I had to stand in front of the class to give a presentation. I was very shy. I was also blessed with a great imagination. I could never figure out why I was told I had butterflies. Every butterfly I'd ever seen had delicate wings. There was no way something so fragile could wreak such havoc in my midsection.
My youthful butterflies have been replaced by marbles, my stomach turned into a trampoline-like bouncy substance that propels the marbles around. Pinging around my insides, catapulting my heart into overdrive. I have no speeches to give. Nobody would say I'm shy. So why the indoor gymnastics?
I'd like to blame the steroids. Okay done. But I have a feeling I'd be left with a few stray marbles even with the drugs out of my system.
Tomorrow I'm going with Elisabeth to see a surgeon. She had an utlrasound last Friday. The doctor thinks she has a hernia that will require surgery. She's supposed to start back to school next week. I'm concerned, as she is feeling so poorly. I don't know much about hernias.
Thursday I'm driving North with Sarabeth. It is orientation at the college. She'll move into the dorms over the weekend. We're both having flashbacks of the little girl who had trouble starting new a new school year.
I'd like to trade my marbles for butterflies.
My youthful butterflies have been replaced by marbles, my stomach turned into a trampoline-like bouncy substance that propels the marbles around. Pinging around my insides, catapulting my heart into overdrive. I have no speeches to give. Nobody would say I'm shy. So why the indoor gymnastics?
I'd like to blame the steroids. Okay done. But I have a feeling I'd be left with a few stray marbles even with the drugs out of my system.
Tomorrow I'm going with Elisabeth to see a surgeon. She had an utlrasound last Friday. The doctor thinks she has a hernia that will require surgery. She's supposed to start back to school next week. I'm concerned, as she is feeling so poorly. I don't know much about hernias.
Thursday I'm driving North with Sarabeth. It is orientation at the college. She'll move into the dorms over the weekend. We're both having flashbacks of the little girl who had trouble starting new a new school year.
I'd like to trade my marbles for butterflies.
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