Men Beware: This entry deals with my female parts and the things that can go wrong with them.
On Monday I had surgery and it was no fun.
Well, riding the morphine dragon was a little fun, but overall getting your belly button cut open is just not a good time. There are three small incisions including the one on my belly button, but damn does it hurt!
I was having some pelvic pain on my right side a few months ago. My doctor recommended that I go ahead and come in for am ultrasound.
I've never had a child, but I've seen plenty of ultrasounds on ER so I knew what to expect. If you've never had a pelvic ultrasound, know that you have to have a full bladder in order for them to get a good picture. I'm adding that in because ER never told me that and neither did my doctor. Consequently, my visit was made longer by the fact that I had to fill my bladder first. I finally get to the point where I'm ready to burst and the technician agrees with me that I'm ready.
There is no talking during an ultrasound. The technician just takes pictures while you lay there wondering why you're in pain. The tech finally speaks to me and says, "Okay, now I need you to go in the bathroom, empty your bladder and remove your clothes below the waist."
Me, "Uhm . . okay."
I go in the bathroom, do as I'm told and when I come out the technician says to me, "Okay, I need you to lay on the bed again."
I lay on the bed and I realize she's taken out a "wand" and is covering it with a condom and lubing it up with KY.
I didn't even know her name.
It turns out when they spot something on the ultrasound they have to then go in with what I've affectionately called the "dildo cam." That ultrasound detected a fibroid growing on the outside of my uterus . . . on the left side of my pelvis. Weird because I came in for pain on the right side.
My doctor and I decided to take the wait and see approach so I returned in six months and it had doubled in size. When they took the fibroid out it was the same size as my uterus: about the size of a large chicken egg.
My brother has been keeping my spirits up by calling this thing "my twin." I know that sounds gross, but it's actually a reference to My Big Fat Greek Wedding. He kept teasing me that if it was a dermoid cyst with teeth and hair he wanted me to bring it home in a jar so that he could keep it. My cyst's lore eventually grew to include painted finger nails.
My cyst did not have any of those things, but weirdly when I told my cousin D about it post-surgery he asked me, "They let you keep it?" My brother and D don't chat it up on a regular basis so I know they come up with this independently of each other. My family is crazy.
I was lucky with this whole fibroid thing. It was attached by a stalk and that meant they could take it out by making three small incisions. They had to cut the fibroid up in small pieces to take it out (thus rendering impossible for me to give it to my brother as one large mass in a mason jar), but they got all of it.
The ultrasounds I had couldn't detect what was causing my original complaint: pain on the lower right side.
The laparoscopy done on Monday showed that I've got endometriosis on my bladder as well as across both of my fallopian tubes. I've never tried to get pregnant, but my doctor is fairly sure that the endometriosis on my fallopian tubes would have made that pretty difficult.
The fact that it's on my bladder was interesting though because I kept having pain while I urinated (at times excruciating pain) and my former GP kept testing me for UTIs that came up negative. He eventually came to the conclusion that this pain was in my head and that maybe if I lost a little weight and exercised I would feel better. I was angry about it then, but now I'm furious. I hate that he made me feel crazy and that maybe I was imagining this pain.
I no longer go to that doctor.
I'm still a little freaked out that I had something like that growing inside of me, but I'm, glad it's out and I'm glad I have some answers.
My doctor is optimistic that it's benign, but we'll know for sure next week.
I'm not scared because at this point I'm leaving it in God's hands.
What else can I do?
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Who Saw Britney at the VMAs?
Seriously.
Remember when Paula Abdul was an "it" girl? She had the cute Laker girl with huge hits: Straight Up, Forever Your Girl and she looked awesome slinking around in the Cold Hearted video?
Then she followed that up with Blowing Kisses in the Wind, The Promise of a New Day and Rush Rush and while we still loved Paula, because she wasn't the crazy Paula that she is now, you know you were thinking, "Damn Paula . . . you gotta lay off of that home cooking before you split a seam!"
Honey, that's how I felt watching Britney "sing" her new song Gimme. I'm not saying she looked fat because you're average size 12 American woman is thinking, "Shit, I wouldn't mind looking like that," when Britney comes traipsing across the stage, but Britney isn't normal.
She's a celebrity and I want my celebrities looking fabulous, not running around with a jiggly ass and a flabby stomach.
Hell, I'd be running around my house naked if I wanted to see that.
Gimme? Nuh, uh girl . . . you've got to push away from the table.
Tim Gunn - Call Britney STAT!
Tina Knowles - Call Britney! You may have designed some tacky ass shit for Beyonce, but you know how to sexily dress a woman with curves.
J-Lo - Call Britney! You know how to look hot and work the curves and you both "sing."
Remember when Paula Abdul was an "it" girl? She had the cute Laker girl with huge hits: Straight Up, Forever Your Girl and she looked awesome slinking around in the Cold Hearted video?
Then she followed that up with Blowing Kisses in the Wind, The Promise of a New Day and Rush Rush and while we still loved Paula, because she wasn't the crazy Paula that she is now, you know you were thinking, "Damn Paula . . . you gotta lay off of that home cooking before you split a seam!"
Honey, that's how I felt watching Britney "sing" her new song Gimme. I'm not saying she looked fat because you're average size 12 American woman is thinking, "Shit, I wouldn't mind looking like that," when Britney comes traipsing across the stage, but Britney isn't normal.
She's a celebrity and I want my celebrities looking fabulous, not running around with a jiggly ass and a flabby stomach.
Hell, I'd be running around my house naked if I wanted to see that.
Gimme? Nuh, uh girl . . . you've got to push away from the table.
Dear Britney,
You can't wear outfits that bare your midriff right now. If you do choose to bare your midriff it's not advisable for you to turn to the side and pop your pelvis. It just makes us think, "Oh no . . . someone needs to lay off the Cheetos." Slap on your Kabbalah bracelet and have Madonna put you in touch with her Pilates instructor.
P.S. You also shouldn't wear short, shorts if you've got to wear them with pantyhose. You just look like Kirstie Alley that time she was on Oprah in a two-piece.
Sincerely,
Someone Who Knows Better
Tim Gunn - Call Britney STAT!
Tina Knowles - Call Britney! You may have designed some tacky ass shit for Beyonce, but you know how to sexily dress a woman with curves.
J-Lo - Call Britney! You know how to look hot and work the curves and you both "sing."
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Sardonyx
I've always wanted to be a writer. I've never actually said that I wanted to be a fiction writer, a reporter or even a poet. I've just always known that I wanted to somehow make a living by stringing words together. Except for the 2.5 years when I was working as a training director, I've managed to do just that so I've been pretty lucky.
My first experience as a published writer was in high school.
My friend Janine and I were both on the yearbook staff. I think in my four years I took my sophmore year off because I was petty and immature, but for three years I was on the yearbook staff. I could have joined the newspaper staff, but for whatever reason I thought it was lame.
I think that I was more attracted to the yearbook because for me it had more of a sense of permanence than our school newspaper.
Think about it: the yearbooks were over 200 pages long with nice hardcover bindings. Our newpaper was an over sized glossy that maybe topped out at 8 pages.
If I remember correctly, I didn't actually get to write until my senior year but I did get to select pictures for the yearbook and crop them to fit. Mayn, that was back when dinosaurs roamed the earth because I remember hand cropping pictures with rulers and pens and scissors. Now I'd guess everything is done on a MAC.
Anyway, I think maybe it was at my 10 year reunion that Janine reminded me why we were in yearbook all along.
She said to me, "Don't you remember, we came in for a yearbook meeting and B____ and all her little friends had picked photos with them in it so the yearbook was nothing but them?"
I said, "Huh, not really."
Then Janine said, "Yeah. We looked at them and thought 'OH! UH,UH!' and took out there pictures and added pictures of us and our friends!"
My response, "Hmn, I don't remember that, but it definitely sounds like something I would do."
At which point I thing we burst into giggles because it really was the bitchy kind of retaliation that I still enjoy! We probably even asked ourselves, "Who do they think they are?"
Honestly though I don't remember when that was, but I get the feeling it may have been our junior year because I just flipped through that yearbook and our class candids are really fairly balanced between the student council girls and everyone else.
It's crazy to me how much time we spent worrying about face time in the yearbook, but I like to think Janine and I had a fair and even-handed approach.
The truth is, a lot of those girls that were trying to be on every page are still heavily involved with my alma mater.
Heavily involved: like they work there as adults kind of heavily involved.
I guess you have to have some with that sort of dedication to keep the school and the tradition going, but some part of me wonders if those four years of high school were indeed the best times of their lives.
That's just sad.
My first experience as a published writer was in high school.
My friend Janine and I were both on the yearbook staff. I think in my four years I took my sophmore year off because I was petty and immature, but for three years I was on the yearbook staff. I could have joined the newspaper staff, but for whatever reason I thought it was lame.
I think that I was more attracted to the yearbook because for me it had more of a sense of permanence than our school newspaper.
Think about it: the yearbooks were over 200 pages long with nice hardcover bindings. Our newpaper was an over sized glossy that maybe topped out at 8 pages.
If I remember correctly, I didn't actually get to write until my senior year but I did get to select pictures for the yearbook and crop them to fit. Mayn, that was back when dinosaurs roamed the earth because I remember hand cropping pictures with rulers and pens and scissors. Now I'd guess everything is done on a MAC.
Anyway, I think maybe it was at my 10 year reunion that Janine reminded me why we were in yearbook all along.
She said to me, "Don't you remember, we came in for a yearbook meeting and B____ and all her little friends had picked photos with them in it so the yearbook was nothing but them?"
I said, "Huh, not really."
Then Janine said, "Yeah. We looked at them and thought 'OH! UH,UH!' and took out there pictures and added pictures of us and our friends!"
My response, "Hmn, I don't remember that, but it definitely sounds like something I would do."
At which point I thing we burst into giggles because it really was the bitchy kind of retaliation that I still enjoy! We probably even asked ourselves, "Who do they think they are?"
Honestly though I don't remember when that was, but I get the feeling it may have been our junior year because I just flipped through that yearbook and our class candids are really fairly balanced between the student council girls and everyone else.
It's crazy to me how much time we spent worrying about face time in the yearbook, but I like to think Janine and I had a fair and even-handed approach.
The truth is, a lot of those girls that were trying to be on every page are still heavily involved with my alma mater.
Heavily involved: like they work there as adults kind of heavily involved.
I guess you have to have some with that sort of dedication to keep the school and the tradition going, but some part of me wonders if those four years of high school were indeed the best times of their lives.
That's just sad.
Friday, August 03, 2007
US 127 Corridor Sale - Day 2
We are both tired, sunburned and sweaty.
Regardless, we had a wonderful day. It's pretty much just like your typical Saturday yard sale excursion only absolutely everyone in your neighborhood is having a yard sale. You drive along HWY 127 and there are some folks who have houses on the highway so there are a few tables set up in the yard.
Then you drive along and suddenly it's tent city:
What you're seeing is typically just the front row of "booths." Items range in price and style. Some people specialize in niche markets:
Buttons.
Buttons.
A table full of buttons.
One tent was nothing but sewing notions. She even had old sewing advertisements. I immediately thought of my friend Jen. Now, Jen is currently in Korea enjoying the wonders of Fabric Mart, but I know she would have loved this booth.
Steve was kept very busy with all of the old tools. Here are today's finds:
He showed a lot of restraint.
In all we traveled about 60 miles north of Chattanooga today. The traffic isn't bad at all. As a friend of mine put it "you're treasure might be right there" so you have to stop every few feet to check out the "booths."
Here are a few more shots of the "treasures" we found today.
This cute little guy that Steve and I are convinced is from The Land of Make Believe, but we can't confirm it.
This cool Therm-a-Chest metal cooler that you can see is already being put to good use.
This cool new vase that's going to look nice in our living room.
The glasses are for my brother: they are from Disney's 25th Anniversary.
Right now I'm really loving bangles.
It's been a really fun day, but tomorrow I'm going to have to take more pictures.
Regardless, we had a wonderful day. It's pretty much just like your typical Saturday yard sale excursion only absolutely everyone in your neighborhood is having a yard sale. You drive along HWY 127 and there are some folks who have houses on the highway so there are a few tables set up in the yard.
Then you drive along and suddenly it's tent city:
What you're seeing is typically just the front row of "booths." Items range in price and style. Some people specialize in niche markets:
Buttons.
Buttons.
A table full of buttons.
One tent was nothing but sewing notions. She even had old sewing advertisements. I immediately thought of my friend Jen. Now, Jen is currently in Korea enjoying the wonders of Fabric Mart, but I know she would have loved this booth.
Steve was kept very busy with all of the old tools. Here are today's finds:
He showed a lot of restraint.
In all we traveled about 60 miles north of Chattanooga today. The traffic isn't bad at all. As a friend of mine put it "you're treasure might be right there" so you have to stop every few feet to check out the "booths."
Here are a few more shots of the "treasures" we found today.
This cute little guy that Steve and I are convinced is from The Land of Make Believe, but we can't confirm it.
This cool Therm-a-Chest metal cooler that you can see is already being put to good use.
This cool new vase that's going to look nice in our living room.
The glasses are for my brother: they are from Disney's 25th Anniversary.
Right now I'm really loving bangles.
It's been a really fun day, but tomorrow I'm going to have to take more pictures.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
US 127 Corridor Sale - Day 1
It hasn't been too exciting, yet.
I got off of work at noon only to find that the gas company decided to choose today to move our gas meter. So, we didn't get on the road until 4pm. We made pretty good time though and arrived in Chattanooga at around 11pm EST.
We are really flying by the seat of our pants so we stopped at the TN Visitor's Center and picked up a coupon book. I was a little worried because we didn't have reservations anywhere, and I know there are a lot of people attending this masssive yard sale.
Those coupon books don't really give you a lot to choose from and some of the places in there I just didn't recognize. So, I picked a mid-range hotel that isn't outrageously expensive ($59.95/night), but also isn't so cheap I might get scabies from the mattress. It's not gorgeous, but having spent the better part of two years in hotel rooms you really can't distinguish one from the next.
I mentioned that we didn't have a plan, right? Thanks to Steve we have one now.
We booked this room again tomorrow night so we are going to wake up early and head north a few more hours. The idea is to work our way back down to Chattanooga and spend the night in the same room tomorrow night. Then Saturday morning we head back to Montgomery from Chattanooga and hit the southern end of the corridor sale.
This way we a.) guarantee having a place to stay Friday night and b.) have more room for all the junk we're going to buy during Friday's leg of the sale.
It's a simple plan, but genius in its simplicity.
Tomorrow night: Day 2 - In the Thick of It (with pictures)
I got off of work at noon only to find that the gas company decided to choose today to move our gas meter. So, we didn't get on the road until 4pm. We made pretty good time though and arrived in Chattanooga at around 11pm EST.
We are really flying by the seat of our pants so we stopped at the TN Visitor's Center and picked up a coupon book. I was a little worried because we didn't have reservations anywhere, and I know there are a lot of people attending this masssive yard sale.
Those coupon books don't really give you a lot to choose from and some of the places in there I just didn't recognize. So, I picked a mid-range hotel that isn't outrageously expensive ($59.95/night), but also isn't so cheap I might get scabies from the mattress. It's not gorgeous, but having spent the better part of two years in hotel rooms you really can't distinguish one from the next.
I mentioned that we didn't have a plan, right? Thanks to Steve we have one now.
We booked this room again tomorrow night so we are going to wake up early and head north a few more hours. The idea is to work our way back down to Chattanooga and spend the night in the same room tomorrow night. Then Saturday morning we head back to Montgomery from Chattanooga and hit the southern end of the corridor sale.
This way we a.) guarantee having a place to stay Friday night and b.) have more room for all the junk we're going to buy during Friday's leg of the sale.
It's a simple plan, but genius in its simplicity.
Tomorrow night: Day 2 - In the Thick of It (with pictures)
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
New Orleans
Steve and I were in New Orleans this weekend.
We were lucky that Steve's schedule allowed him the time off this weekend so we took advantage of that to go to New Orleans to visit with our parents.
I apologize to any of you who read the site and have emailed me in the last few months and said, "Call me when you're in town and we'll get together."
We were only in for two full days and between Steve's 4 siblings, parents and my family we were kept busy the entire time.
The last time we visited was Mardi Gras so we didn't do a lot of hanging out with either of our parents so on this visit we made it a point to hang out with our parents.
Some exciting news from home: my parents are getting there house shored by this guy. For those of you not familiar with this process, a bunch of guys dig a trench around your house, dig tunnels under your house and then jack the whole thing up with a pneumatic jack.
I called my parents on Tuesday to let them know we'd be in town and to ask them if we could stay at Casa Martinez. The said, "Sure! We'd love to have you!"
So, we show up late Friday night and as we're moving around the house on Saturday morning my mom says, "Oh, by the way, they cut the gas lines so there's no hot water."
Steve is still hoping his scared testicles will someday descend as currently he thinks they might be hiding somewhere near his liver.
I personally didn't find the water to be that cold.
Yes, at first my nipples could have cut glass but after a while your body kind of adjusts to the cold and you can almost convince yourself that the water is scalding.
It was a lot like camping on a primitve site only with a nice comfy mattress at night.
In other family news: the real reason we visited New Orleans last weekend.
Steve's mom is scheduled to have knee surgery today. Anne is an active senior, but once you're in your 70s surgery is always a risky thing. The last news we heard the surgery went well and she was in recovery.
I love home: I love my mom and dad, I love my in-laws, I love The Swamp Room Burgers and beignets, but there's nothing drawing me home.
Sure, my parents are there but if I were home I would stop being me and go back to Melissa - child, daughter.
I once told a former co-worker that I don't live near my parents because they'd always be calling me to handle stuff. She looked at me contemplatively and then said, "I can see that. You're very capable."
When I say "handle stuff" I don't mean helping them by picking up their dry cleaning or buying a gallon of milk on the way to their house. I mean I think they'd call me to say, "Melissa, your father hasn't handled _____________, I need you to (handle it, talk to him, convince him it's his idea . . . )" Or, "Melissa we need reservations at XX hotel, can you call them and make them?"
Now look, English is a second language for my parents but my mom manages to function at the store and with her English-as-a-primary-language friends and employers and my dad speaks English fairly fluently so it's not like I'm hanging them out to dry.
Then there's my brother. C, you know I love you but in a weird way I think your crazy competitive side would come out if I moved home.
Shortly after my divorce I told C that I was interviewing for a job in LA and his immediate response was, "No, you can't move home . . . " in this sort of horrified whine.
I think that while mom and dad might bug him as much as they would bug me, he sort of enjoys being their go-to child.
He can have it.
In AL I just get to be Melissa - homeowner, wife, co-worker, cycling class attendee and most importantly: adult.
We were lucky that Steve's schedule allowed him the time off this weekend so we took advantage of that to go to New Orleans to visit with our parents.
I apologize to any of you who read the site and have emailed me in the last few months and said, "Call me when you're in town and we'll get together."
We were only in for two full days and between Steve's 4 siblings, parents and my family we were kept busy the entire time.
The last time we visited was Mardi Gras so we didn't do a lot of hanging out with either of our parents so on this visit we made it a point to hang out with our parents.
Some exciting news from home: my parents are getting there house shored by this guy. For those of you not familiar with this process, a bunch of guys dig a trench around your house, dig tunnels under your house and then jack the whole thing up with a pneumatic jack.
I called my parents on Tuesday to let them know we'd be in town and to ask them if we could stay at Casa Martinez. The said, "Sure! We'd love to have you!"
So, we show up late Friday night and as we're moving around the house on Saturday morning my mom says, "Oh, by the way, they cut the gas lines so there's no hot water."
Steve is still hoping his scared testicles will someday descend as currently he thinks they might be hiding somewhere near his liver.
I personally didn't find the water to be that cold.
Yes, at first my nipples could have cut glass but after a while your body kind of adjusts to the cold and you can almost convince yourself that the water is scalding.
It was a lot like camping on a primitve site only with a nice comfy mattress at night.
In other family news: the real reason we visited New Orleans last weekend.
Steve's mom is scheduled to have knee surgery today. Anne is an active senior, but once you're in your 70s surgery is always a risky thing. The last news we heard the surgery went well and she was in recovery.
I love home: I love my mom and dad, I love my in-laws, I love The Swamp Room Burgers and beignets, but there's nothing drawing me home.
Sure, my parents are there but if I were home I would stop being me and go back to Melissa - child, daughter.
I once told a former co-worker that I don't live near my parents because they'd always be calling me to handle stuff. She looked at me contemplatively and then said, "I can see that. You're very capable."
When I say "handle stuff" I don't mean helping them by picking up their dry cleaning or buying a gallon of milk on the way to their house. I mean I think they'd call me to say, "Melissa, your father hasn't handled _____________, I need you to (handle it, talk to him, convince him it's his idea . . . )" Or, "Melissa we need reservations at XX hotel, can you call them and make them?"
Now look, English is a second language for my parents but my mom manages to function at the store and with her English-as-a-primary-language friends and employers and my dad speaks English fairly fluently so it's not like I'm hanging them out to dry.
Then there's my brother. C, you know I love you but in a weird way I think your crazy competitive side would come out if I moved home.
Shortly after my divorce I told C that I was interviewing for a job in LA and his immediate response was, "No, you can't move home . . . " in this sort of horrified whine.
I think that while mom and dad might bug him as much as they would bug me, he sort of enjoys being their go-to child.
He can have it.
In AL I just get to be Melissa - homeowner, wife, co-worker, cycling class attendee and most importantly: adult.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Living in a Cube, Cube World
I'd say in a given week I probably only do about fifteen minutes of real, actual, work.Office Space, 1999
I work in an environment where the only people with offices are managers. Fine, whatever, they get to make the hard decisions so they deserve walls that go all the way up to the ceiling and a door that shuts. The rest of us are in cubicles.
Take a look at this site and you'll get an idea of what it's like at the bank.
DON'T GO PASSED THE HOME PAGE.
You'll see some text that says "Or Create a Corporate Labyrinth One Cube at a Time," and then the camera will slowly pan out to give you an expansive look at what my floor at the bank looks like.
As you can see there isn't a lot of privacy and sadly we do not get to choose our neighbors. I currently sit next to a woman who would fill (or overfill) Dolores Umbridge's shoes quite nicely.
Aside from her condescending tone I am blessed with the fact that this woman does not know how the phone works.
She is so loud that I recently turned to a co-worker and said, "Jesus! What . . . does she think she's using tin cans and string?"
Which led to some emails between a co-worker of mine that started with me writing:
Tin Cans and String - that is so going to be the name of my first album.
E replied: Oooh, tell me it's going to be some pissed-off, spoken word shit.
From there E and I started writing "poetry" for said album.
I came up with:
Your voice accosts me.
The listener is helpless:
Until you are stabbed.
E's contribution?
Lotus Blossoms
Ding Dang haunts my dreams
cramped in smoky rooms she sounds
pop, pop, click, ping pong.
EA
Genius.
Thanks E for making my days at the bank a little more bearable.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
BFF
If you asked me who my close friends were in high school I'd say Janine and Nicole. If you asked me who my best friend was I'd say Janine.
Some of that was proximity (She lived closer to me and for at least three years we were in the same Spanish class.) and part of it came down to similiarities (We are both Hispanic, similar economic backgrounds, similar sense of humor.)
I was digging through some old boxes recently and came across a notebook that we kept when we were freshman. I don't really know how our system worked, but it looks like I started it and then maybe we passed it off to one another in the halls between classes.
It's a 60 page Lisa Frank notebook and from the looks of it we filled it up in like a month.
I think we devised this plan because we could:
1.) Write in it in class and still look like we were doing classwork, and
2.) Discuss boys and sex between the covers of a notebook that looked like the rest in our backpack so our parents were none the wiser.
So much better than an origami folded note that just screamed: READ ME!
Clearly we were diligent students from the following entry:
Me: Guess what? I'm seeing Chris tomorrow night. He's coming over to give me my Valntine's Day present. How do you get genotype and how do you get phenotype?
Janine: Don't ask me, I don't understand it. Listen do we have a quiz? Forget it she answered my question already. Good luck with Chris.
That entry cracks me up because it's so 15, but what is worse is that my nonlinear way of thinking was clearly established at an early age. This also cracks me up because Janine and I had somehow gotten stuck in this honors biology class and neither one of us belonged in there. It was our lament all year long: Why are we in this class??????
This one is the best:
"Don't laugh: what do you actually DO when you're making out?"
We were also kind of bitchy:
"GOD! The barrett DANA made looks like shit. I don't like the lettering, how about you?"
Ooh, and I refer to some guy as "leper."
Damn, I was bitchy.
And, the little feminist in me started waking up:
He said, "I hope you don't want to go out next weekend," and I'm like, "Why?" So, he said, "Because I won't be here," and I said, "Hey, if I want to go out I don't need your permission."
And you know, I underlined the need three times so I totally meant it.
Sometimes I miss the simplicity of being 15 but there isn't enough money in the world to make me relive those years.
LYLAS
Some of that was proximity (She lived closer to me and for at least three years we were in the same Spanish class.) and part of it came down to similiarities (We are both Hispanic, similar economic backgrounds, similar sense of humor.)
I was digging through some old boxes recently and came across a notebook that we kept when we were freshman. I don't really know how our system worked, but it looks like I started it and then maybe we passed it off to one another in the halls between classes.
It's a 60 page Lisa Frank notebook and from the looks of it we filled it up in like a month.
I think we devised this plan because we could:
1.) Write in it in class and still look like we were doing classwork, and
2.) Discuss boys and sex between the covers of a notebook that looked like the rest in our backpack so our parents were none the wiser.
So much better than an origami folded note that just screamed: READ ME!
Clearly we were diligent students from the following entry:
Me: Guess what? I'm seeing Chris tomorrow night. He's coming over to give me my Valntine's Day present. How do you get genotype and how do you get phenotype?
Janine: Don't ask me, I don't understand it. Listen do we have a quiz? Forget it she answered my question already. Good luck with Chris.
That entry cracks me up because it's so 15, but what is worse is that my nonlinear way of thinking was clearly established at an early age. This also cracks me up because Janine and I had somehow gotten stuck in this honors biology class and neither one of us belonged in there. It was our lament all year long: Why are we in this class??????
This one is the best:
"Don't laugh: what do you actually DO when you're making out?"
We were also kind of bitchy:
"GOD! The barrett DANA made looks like shit. I don't like the lettering, how about you?"
Ooh, and I refer to some guy as "leper."
Damn, I was bitchy.
And, the little feminist in me started waking up:
He said, "I hope you don't want to go out next weekend," and I'm like, "Why?" So, he said, "Because I won't be here," and I said, "Hey, if I want to go out I don't need your permission."
And you know, I underlined the need three times so I totally meant it.
Sometimes I miss the simplicity of being 15 but there isn't enough money in the world to make me relive those years.
LYLAS
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
The One
I moved to Montgomery in 2001 (I think - it all runs together after a while) and it was then that I heard about this. At the time I was married to J and I said,
"Hey, I'd really like to go to this! Can we?"
He thought I was insane as the last thing he wanted to do was attend a multi-day yard sale that would involve taking at least one day off of work. That was the last time I mentioned it and I moved on.
Now, after my divorce I still wanted to attend the 127 Sale, but like most things in life I'd think about it from time to time and by the time I'd look up the information it had already passed.
So, yesterday Steve calls me up at work and asks,
"What are you doing August 3?"
Me: "You tell me . . . "
Him: "I was doing a search for flea markets and I saw something about the longest yard sale . . . "
I literally could not hear the rest of what he was saying for there was a chorus of angels singing in my ears.
See, Steve has really gotten into collecting antique tools. Stuff that he can display in his workshop and decoratively (after consulting with me) in the house. Right now he's obsessing over a double-claw hammer. I'm cool with this because
1.) It gives me an excuse to go to yard sales
2.) It gives me an excuse to attend flea markets, and
3.) I never have to worry he's bored when we go to yard sales and flea markets.
I think in some way I'd given up the desire to go to the 127 Sale, but Steve reignited that spark and further reminded me of why he's the one for me.
It's right up there with the time he took a detour on our way home from our honeymoon so that I could finally go here.
He just gets me.
"Hey, I'd really like to go to this! Can we?"
He thought I was insane as the last thing he wanted to do was attend a multi-day yard sale that would involve taking at least one day off of work. That was the last time I mentioned it and I moved on.
Now, after my divorce I still wanted to attend the 127 Sale, but like most things in life I'd think about it from time to time and by the time I'd look up the information it had already passed.
So, yesterday Steve calls me up at work and asks,
"What are you doing August 3?"
Me: "You tell me . . . "
Him: "I was doing a search for flea markets and I saw something about the longest yard sale . . . "
I literally could not hear the rest of what he was saying for there was a chorus of angels singing in my ears.
See, Steve has really gotten into collecting antique tools. Stuff that he can display in his workshop and decoratively (after consulting with me) in the house. Right now he's obsessing over a double-claw hammer. I'm cool with this because
1.) It gives me an excuse to go to yard sales
2.) It gives me an excuse to attend flea markets, and
3.) I never have to worry he's bored when we go to yard sales and flea markets.
I think in some way I'd given up the desire to go to the 127 Sale, but Steve reignited that spark and further reminded me of why he's the one for me.
It's right up there with the time he took a detour on our way home from our honeymoon so that I could finally go here.
He just gets me.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Credit Where Credit Is Due
cancion jamas de lidia handal
quiero la letra de la cancion jamas compuesta por lidia handal
Zona: Honduras
Responder a: hercilia20042000@yahoo.es
Fecha: Jueves, 27 de Abril del 2006, 17:14:48
Más anuncios con: cancion jamas de lidia handal
I found this request while looking up the song "Jamas" and I got steamed. What they are looking for is:
"The sheet music for the Lidia Handal song "Jamas."
This made me nuts because according to family lore - Jamas is not a Lidia Handal song. My grandfather wrote that song and then sold it to Ms. Handal and she passed it of as her own. My grandfather Jose Maria Cabus composed the piece, not Ms. Handal.
I Can't Stand Elizabeth Hasselbeck!
A few episodes ago, the women of The View were discussing Valerie Plame and Elizabeth says, "How could a woman that cute go undetected?"
The inital knee-jerk reaction is to assume that Elizabeth is saying a woman that attractive can't be smart enough to go undetected. I don't think that's what Elizabeth is saying.
I think Elizabeth is saying, "How could a woman that attractive go unnoticed?"
This just gets my feminist panties all up in a bunch because it's so looksist.
Regardless of Plame's ability to get the job done, Elizabeth thinks it's impossible for her to be a convincing CIA operative because she's just too pretty. I suppose in EH's mind, only an average looking woman (a brunette of course) can pull off being a CIA agent.
In general I don't agree with EH's politics, but that's not why I dislike her.
I dislike her because she's unable to have a coherent argument. She just gets all high-pitched and emotional so whatever her point is gets lost on me.
I tend to get annoyed with all of the women on The View because watching them argue is like watching me argue with my brother and father - you only when if you have the loudest voice.
But, I bet EH the kind of person who cries to win an argument with her husband.
In all of her political views, EH is such a throwback. She's a huge Bush supporter, she's pro-life, pro-NRA.
Geez - the only issue she doesn't take on is working mothers.
OH NO - instead little miss pro-life-conservative-on-most-issues sympathizes with working mother's guilt.
Why?
Because she is one.
Wow - a conservative whose politics duck and weave to suit her needs.
Such a rarity.
The inital knee-jerk reaction is to assume that Elizabeth is saying a woman that attractive can't be smart enough to go undetected. I don't think that's what Elizabeth is saying.
I think Elizabeth is saying, "How could a woman that attractive go unnoticed?"
This just gets my feminist panties all up in a bunch because it's so looksist.
Regardless of Plame's ability to get the job done, Elizabeth thinks it's impossible for her to be a convincing CIA operative because she's just too pretty. I suppose in EH's mind, only an average looking woman (a brunette of course) can pull off being a CIA agent.
In general I don't agree with EH's politics, but that's not why I dislike her.
I dislike her because she's unable to have a coherent argument. She just gets all high-pitched and emotional so whatever her point is gets lost on me.
I tend to get annoyed with all of the women on The View because watching them argue is like watching me argue with my brother and father - you only when if you have the loudest voice.
But, I bet EH the kind of person who cries to win an argument with her husband.
In all of her political views, EH is such a throwback. She's a huge Bush supporter, she's pro-life, pro-NRA.
Geez - the only issue she doesn't take on is working mothers.
OH NO - instead little miss pro-life-conservative-on-most-issues sympathizes with working mother's guilt.
Why?
Because she is one.
Wow - a conservative whose politics duck and weave to suit her needs.
Such a rarity.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
DIY 2
Before the renovation, this is how much room we had to cook and move around each other:
Right side of kitchen:
Left Side of the kitchen:
When Steve took down the left side of the wall between the dining room and the kitchen he exposed the backside of the fireplace in our room. I love the look of exposed brick and Steve agrees that it adds character so it's staying.
Once the cabinets and the wall came down:
About a third of the way up the chimney, this is what Steve found. We think that at some point there was a wood burning stove in our kitchen and this was part of the ventilation for it. If you're looking at this and you know what it is don't be shy: leave me a comment and fill us in.
Eventually, all that was left of the left side of the kitchen was plaster and lathe.
The lathe is then covered by drywall. Sasha, is totally unimpressed.
The glorious pantry that went up where the cabinets and fridge used to be.
One of the finishing touches will be to turn this into a custom built-in with walls, doors and fancy crown molding.
Right side of kitchen:
Left Side of the kitchen:
When Steve took down the left side of the wall between the dining room and the kitchen he exposed the backside of the fireplace in our room. I love the look of exposed brick and Steve agrees that it adds character so it's staying.
Once the cabinets and the wall came down:
About a third of the way up the chimney, this is what Steve found. We think that at some point there was a wood burning stove in our kitchen and this was part of the ventilation for it. If you're looking at this and you know what it is don't be shy: leave me a comment and fill us in.
Eventually, all that was left of the left side of the kitchen was plaster and lathe.
The lathe is then covered by drywall. Sasha, is totally unimpressed.
The glorious pantry that went up where the cabinets and fridge used to be.
One of the finishing touches will be to turn this into a custom built-in with walls, doors and fancy crown molding.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
DIY
I'm a great idea person, but when it comes to actually doing I tend to falter. So, like any great idea person, I've chosen to surround myself with do-ers. which is totally why I married Steve.
The thing with marrying a do-er though is that you have to be really careful with the things you say. Otherwise, your relaxing day off can turn into this:
That's me tentatively holding the hammer and probably thinking, "Yeah, I can totally help you out here . . . geez, this hammer is really heavy."
In December of 2005 this is what our living room, dining room and kitchen looked like if you were standing at the front door.
Then I painted.
(I love how Sweet Pea's turned away from me all, "Get that camera out of my face bitch!" She still hasn't forgiven me."
Then I said to Steve, "You know, we never actually dine in the dining room. Wouldn't it be awesome if we took down that wall between the kitchen and the dining room and remodeled the kitchen?"
And, I came home to this:
Yeah, the left side of that wall is just gone and there's just a tiny bit above the doorframe hanging from a single nail.
Now, if you'll look just past that counter on the left side you'll see what used to be a set of cabinets with red hardware and the refrigerator. Remember that because that area has been totally redone and will be shown later.
There were a lot of things I didn't like about our kitchen: it was small and only two people could fit in there comfortably, I couldn't hold a conversation with someone in the living room while I was cooking (or watch tv while I cooked) and I had no pantry. Remember that - no pantry.
So, that left wall came down and eventually Steve took down the cabinets around the refrigerator and temporarily moved the fridge. Check out this wall paper behind the cabinets.
(To Be Continued)
The thing with marrying a do-er though is that you have to be really careful with the things you say. Otherwise, your relaxing day off can turn into this:
That's me tentatively holding the hammer and probably thinking, "Yeah, I can totally help you out here . . . geez, this hammer is really heavy."
In December of 2005 this is what our living room, dining room and kitchen looked like if you were standing at the front door.
Then I painted.
(I love how Sweet Pea's turned away from me all, "Get that camera out of my face bitch!" She still hasn't forgiven me."
Then I said to Steve, "You know, we never actually dine in the dining room. Wouldn't it be awesome if we took down that wall between the kitchen and the dining room and remodeled the kitchen?"
And, I came home to this:
Yeah, the left side of that wall is just gone and there's just a tiny bit above the doorframe hanging from a single nail.
Now, if you'll look just past that counter on the left side you'll see what used to be a set of cabinets with red hardware and the refrigerator. Remember that because that area has been totally redone and will be shown later.
There were a lot of things I didn't like about our kitchen: it was small and only two people could fit in there comfortably, I couldn't hold a conversation with someone in the living room while I was cooking (or watch tv while I cooked) and I had no pantry. Remember that - no pantry.
So, that left wall came down and eventually Steve took down the cabinets around the refrigerator and temporarily moved the fridge. Check out this wall paper behind the cabinets.
(To Be Continued)
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Memories
I work at a bank. I don't talk about work because I am paranoid and I don't want to get "dooced."
Anyway, this isn't really about where I work now. Let's just say that I never realized that there would be this perpetual cloud of doom hanging over my employment status. It seems that banks are pretty volatile environments: need to make this year's projections? Fire 500 so management gets their big fat bonus checks. Possibility of a merger or buyout? Pray to Jesus the new owners give you at least a few weeks to find a new job.
So, that's what life has been like at my new job - FUN!
This entry though is more about a job I used to have.
I once worked for a non-profit that "seeks to educate and inspire young people to succeed in a global economy." I worked for the education team and my job title was "Editor." For the 10 months that I worked there, my job was to review participant evaluations and determine what curriculum changes needed to be made to our K-5 products.
We started at K as it needed a major overhaul.
What I didn't quite understand when I got hired was that I was going to actually have to re-write the entire curriculum: from step-by-step volunteer instruction manuals to activities and corresponding manipulatives.
I don't want to mislead anyone though.
I had a lot of input from a small review committee of educators around the country. They helped me develop a comprehensive list of learning objectives, concepts and skills that made sense for 5-6 year-olds. However, when it came time to create the corresponding activities - that was all left up to me.
The main component is a storybook with 5 short stories that introduce the economic roles of individuals - pretty heavy stuff, but I did my best to make it fun.
I keep listing this on my resume because it's one of the projects I'm most proud of. I even keep saying that it's still in use nationwide, and it turns out I'm right.
My friend C has a child in kindergarten and she came across one of the books created for this program. Incidentally, this was the first time this non-profit actually credited an author (yours truly) for the work produced. She just sent me an email asking if I was the same person listed in the book.
It's strange because with all of this instability at the bank I keep thinking about the jobs I've held in the past and which one's were my favorites.
Working at the economics-based non-profit was by far the best.
It's nice to know that what I created still holds up six years later.
Anyway, this isn't really about where I work now. Let's just say that I never realized that there would be this perpetual cloud of doom hanging over my employment status. It seems that banks are pretty volatile environments: need to make this year's projections? Fire 500 so management gets their big fat bonus checks. Possibility of a merger or buyout? Pray to Jesus the new owners give you at least a few weeks to find a new job.
So, that's what life has been like at my new job - FUN!
This entry though is more about a job I used to have.
I once worked for a non-profit that "seeks to educate and inspire young people to succeed in a global economy." I worked for the education team and my job title was "Editor." For the 10 months that I worked there, my job was to review participant evaluations and determine what curriculum changes needed to be made to our K-5 products.
We started at K as it needed a major overhaul.
What I didn't quite understand when I got hired was that I was going to actually have to re-write the entire curriculum: from step-by-step volunteer instruction manuals to activities and corresponding manipulatives.
I don't want to mislead anyone though.
I had a lot of input from a small review committee of educators around the country. They helped me develop a comprehensive list of learning objectives, concepts and skills that made sense for 5-6 year-olds. However, when it came time to create the corresponding activities - that was all left up to me.
The main component is a storybook with 5 short stories that introduce the economic roles of individuals - pretty heavy stuff, but I did my best to make it fun.
I keep listing this on my resume because it's one of the projects I'm most proud of. I even keep saying that it's still in use nationwide, and it turns out I'm right.
My friend C has a child in kindergarten and she came across one of the books created for this program. Incidentally, this was the first time this non-profit actually credited an author (yours truly) for the work produced. She just sent me an email asking if I was the same person listed in the book.
It's strange because with all of this instability at the bank I keep thinking about the jobs I've held in the past and which one's were my favorites.
Working at the economics-based non-profit was by far the best.
It's nice to know that what I created still holds up six years later.
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