life is short. eat cake.

Peter Pumpkin Squares

2012-01-18T07:11:00.000-06:00

I love this dessert. The mother prefers just plain pumpkin bars, but I really like the addition of the oats.

Peter Pumpkin Squares

CAKE:

1 16oz. can (plain) pumpkin
1 2/3c. brown sugar
4 eggs
3/4c. oil
1 1/2c. flour
1 1/2c. oatmeal
1 T. cinnamon
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt

FROSTING:

3oz. cream cheese
1/4c. margarine
1 tsp. vanilla
2c. powdered sugar
1/2c. nuts*

Cake: Combine pumpkin, sugar, eggs and oil. Add flour, oats. cinnamon, soda, powder and salt. Mix well. Pour into grease pan. Bake at 350 for 25 to 30 minutes.

Frosting: Beat together cream cheese, margarine and vanilla. Mix until well blended. Gradually add powdered sugar and mix until smooth. Spread over cake. Sprinkle with nuts*. Cut into squares.

* I use pecans. Of course, you may use whatever kind you like. But if you like anything but pecans with pumpkin, you are wrong.

All Together Now

2012-01-16T08:05:00.000-06:00

Awwwww ...

New wheels

2011-12-28T14:10:00.005-06:00

-- What do you mean "what am I doing"? I'm hiding, duh!

Two ways I know the mother is cool with my church ... last night Relief Society came up in conversation. The mother: "You know, Kim, you should see if you can get in to that ... in to Relief Society. I think you'd enjoy it." Indeed -- oh, if only there was some way around their stringent application requirements!

Oh, wait.

And another way I know the mother is cool with my church ... when my home teacher calls me, the mother ends up chatting with him longer than I do!

We had a wonderful, low-key Christmas. My cousin (Cousin#3 for you old-schoolers) announced her second pregnancy. She's been through a lot of fertility problems, so yay for #2!

I am getting a power chair. It took me a while to warm up to the idea. At first it seemed like a power chair signified even more physical loss. I have weird links and causations floating around in my head. My brain is a fantastically strange place.

See, I used to walk and dance and ride a bicycle (oh, I miss that so so so much), etc. Then I progressed to the point of needing a walker. Oh, the humanity! Old people use walkers -- not 20 year olds! Then I progressed to the point of needing a wheeled walker, which was 9000 times worse than a plain old regular walker. I loathed it until I realized I could do so much more with it. But I fell and there was no progression towards a wheelchair, it was just *boom*. It's been 10 years, so I probably should have been thinking about a power chair and, yet, I wasn't.

But the longer I mulled over the thought of a power chair, the more I realized that -- short of a cure -- this could potentially be the BEST THING EVER. I could get in and out of my house whenever I wanted. The threshold is too high to maneuver without help now. I could go to the library or the mall or wherever by myself because all of the city buses have lifts and with a power chair, I can get to the (1/2 mile or so away) bus stops. I wouldn't have to bend over backwards to find online classes or classes in the same or nearby buildings because of how difficult and time consuming it is to maneuver around campus.

I mean, really, U of Iowa. Who has an almost entirely uphill (God help me if I have classes on the Pentacrest), 1900 acre campus that is bisected by a freaking river???

Nobody else is interested in a lecture? I can go by myself. Nobody else is interested in a class? I can go by myself. Nobody else is interested in a museum exhibit? I can go by myself. Nobody else is interested in a movie? I can go by myself.

I am excited for the things I can do now. It's not that the mother or sister refused (usually...) refused to take me somewhere for something ... it's just that now, I can go myself. Even a small whiff of increased self-sufficiency is a delight.

Plus, the new chair will be lime green.

Season Reasons

2011-12-24T13:02:00.002-06:00

The King of Kings

The King of Rock & Roll

2011-12-23T10:01:00.002-06:00

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

My Contribution

2011-11-01T14:21:00.001-05:00

.. to the moral decay of pets in our society.

I have mentioned my strange affinity for Zombie related things, haven't I? I do enjoy "The Walking Dead".

So does Keko.

No, really.

No. Really.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

2011-10-31T13:53:00.001-05:00

I hope your day is full of treats!

Tuesdays & Novembers

2011-10-27T13:00:00.004-05:00

I hate them both. Like violently.

The first line of this was going to be "Keko is missing". Then, I remembered that when Kirsche went missing, it was also a Tuesday. This is significant because Tuesday is our garbage day. So, the mother and sister are up early and in and out, taking cans and bags to the curb. Karly is all worked up, running in and out. Tuesday mornings are hectic and the whereabouts of little kitties who otherwise have no inclination to visit the outdoors just aren't on the brain.

Keko and Kirsche are sweet, but shy (him) and skittish (her). She was always so afraid of outside, Keko (who was a stray the sister found) has demonstrated many times that he has no interest whatsoever in going outside. They are both small cats although full grown, she weighs about 5 pounds and Keeks is about 7 (in comparison, Kaiser is a solid 20 pounds), so being outside alone must be scary enough but then add giant, noisy, smelly garbage/recycle/yard waste trucks ... I can't imagine it being anything other than terrifying.

Keko is a whiny cat, he is quite vocal. Not meows, he whines -- that's just Keko, though, and he usually calms down (for all of 3 minutes) once you assure him that he is okay. That morning, I was still in my room and the mother was reading the newspaper, when Keko started yowling. He was so loud and insistent and I think mom thought I was still asleep, she yelled at him and he shut up.

My cousin came over and Keko was nowhere to be found, which is not surprising. Keko is shy and not really enamored with men. We've been painting an rearranging, so the first floor is a mess and the cats head upstairs when they need some quiet. No biggie. After a bit, my cousin goes to the bathroom and Mom goes to the one upstairs. After my cousin leaves, i ask "Where's Keko?" I hadn't heard him whine in a while.

"Oh, he's around...", she says. FYI, this is the EXACT same thing she answered when I asked about Kirsche. To which, I replied "I know, I know. I just get hinky when I don't see them, especially after Kirsche." Mom snorted, basically telling me I was being nutty.

Later, I was in my bathroom and it suddenly popped in my head to ask Mom if she had seen Keko when she was upstairs. See, Keko is a bit ... odd. He will wake up to go see Mom in the bathroom. Doesn't matter what time it is, it's almost Pavlovian.

She hadn't and began to get worried. Looked all over the first floor, all over the second, the garage ... no Keko. Both of us were worried, but we also know that he doesn't come when called -- just like most cats (except Kaiser). We looked around again. I opened the basement door to call him and rattle his cat treats. I knew it was pointless, but I was panicky. Pointless because he is terrified of the basement--when one of us is down there he gets panicky and yowls for us to come up.

No Keko. I couldn't believe this was happening again. Mom was berating herself for not checking on him when he was crying that morning.

I texted the sister: "Keko is gone"
She: "What??!?"
Me: "Gone. Missing"
She: "No, he's not. Did you check the basement? I went down there today."
Me: "We looked everywhere!"

She skipped a class and came home to look for him. She immediately went to the basement. No Keko. Mom: "I didn't even bother to check the basement, he's so scared of it."

Shut up, foreshadowing. You're ruining the story.

The sister returned to school and I began calling vets and animal shelters. In between bouts of hysterical sobbing, of course. I put an ad in the paper, too. Just in case, we opened all the doors, cabinets and closets around 6pm. 6pm is kitty dinnertime here and Keko thinks we're trying to starve him if dinner is even 20 seconds late.

No Keko.

The sister came home, complaining of a sore wrist. You may recall that she has had three surgeries on her wrist to remove two cysts and scar tissue, We looked for her wrist brace, but ended up just wrapping it in ACE bandage because we couldn't find the brace.

We all went to bed around 9:15-ish. I was so depressed as I said my prayers -- I probably bummed Him out. I was half asleep when the sister came downstairs. She had decided that she had to have that brace. I groggily told she could look in my dresser because I might have it but I couldn't remember. She said she was going to check the basement first. Some time later (I must've dozed off), I heard her messing around my desk, it was dark so I couldn't see anything. My desk lamp suddenly blazed on and I sat up to demand an explanation.

She turned to face me with a little ball of orange fluff in her arm and said "Someone wants to say 'hi' to you."

I promptly burst into tears.

He had been in the basement all along. We don't know if he was trapped or stuck somewhere or why he didn't come up before. What I do know is that he's here and I am happy.

Him gots a cold sniffer

2011-09-06T16:09:00.006-05:00

It has been quite cold this week. Mid 60s to barely over 70 during the day to bottom 40s at night. Keko is not really enamored with the cold ...

Long time, no write

2011-09-05T12:19:00.006-05:00

Honestly, I really do think of stuff to write and then I ... just don't. I am lazy and I know it. I am rededicating myself to this blog. I bought a new laptop. Got a deal, but still ... yikes.

I am taking classes this fall again. I realized that I couldn't afford not to. School has always been exceedingly easy for me, too easy. To the point where I would fluff off all of my classes. And I was okay with the less-than-impressive gpa. Until my disease started progressing. Walking to walker, walker to wheeled walker (my much loved lime green and stickered "Aggie") to wheelchair. I just never seemed to find my equilibrium again. One year, I signed up for classes before I had my new wheelchair. After several factory delays, I had to drop the classes after term started. That resulted in five FW (failure/withdrawal) grades on my transcript. I decided to leave that school for my U of Iowa and really focus on what I wanted to do, which was studying history and museums.

There are schools with BA's in Museum Studies (a really good program is Baylor University's), but most schools that do have Museum Studies have only a graduate program or a certification. UIowa only has a certification program, which I was fine with at first. Now I want to design my own major (I've been working on this quite a while). My problems lie in transferring my core classes. At UIowa, my GPA is 3.76 (dang B+) and at the other place ... blerrgh. So, in order to transfer my completed course work I need a better GPA. To get a better GPA, I need those FWs off. To do that, I had to wait 3 years, then pass a term with a certain number of hours and then I can apply for forgiveness of the bad grades and have them erased from my transcript. That is what I'm doing now.

Still nothing on the dating front. I know -- you're all shocked. Oh, but you should have seen the sister's face when Josh Christensen from "Project Runway" said he was a.) straight, b.) wanted to get married/start a family and c.) is Mormon. Which, whatever. As true as those statements may be ... I recently had the mother make me a sundress where the bodice and bottom ruffle had lime green, fuchsia, orange and yellow polka dots while the middle has vertical stripes of those colors. I have fantastically questionable fashion sense and would, most likely, crush the spirit of any partner with even minimal interest in fashion.

I could be wrong, but I do not think spirit-crushing is conducive to an eternal relationship.

In other news, the dinosaur geek in me is tremendously excited for "Terra Nova".

That road ...

2011-06-18T14:40:00.003-05:00

The thing is, I keep intending to write but I get distracted. Our family reunion was last Saturday. Let me tell you, there is nothing like a family reunion to make you want a baby. Then I had a dream that I was married to a cop. I think that means I've been watching "The Walking Dead" too much, but anybody know a nice, single officer? Covering my bases, but I'm sticking with too much of the zombie apocalypse.

The sister is ~~dating~~ ~~seeing~~ friends with a fella--divorced, 3 kids. I like him, seems promising.

I got a birthday card from the vet for Kirsche. 2 years later and it still makes me sad.

I am having no luck breaking my Mt. Dew addiction. I am also having no luck finding any information about the LDS meetinghouse in my grandma's tiny hometown. Oh, the frustration. Also, according to some paid geneaologist (yes, some yahoo paid this guy $2800 to find a certain side of their family tree) I do not exist, because (AND I QUOTE) "there is no uncertainty, Charles and Nell had no viable offspring". They were my great-grandparents.

Keko:

And he's okay. See? Weird, but okay:

My cats loooooooooove to eat the dog's food. The mother put a Kleenex in the dog bowl to keep the cats out. Kaiser was momentarily stymied, but not Keko:

Lack of thumbs

2011-05-26T12:26:00.003-05:00

Anyone who knows me knows I love my cats. I brag too much, I suppose. Kaiser is clever, though. He can work light switches and open bi-fold doors. He loves to explore the basement, but he just can't open the door. He knows what the doorknob does, but not how it works ...

Newly Trypanophobic

2011-04-26T17:33:00.000-05:00

Yep.

It is what you thought it was.

That's right.

I just posted a photo of my butt.

I have been having serious pain issues with my ankle. The consensus of late is that it is nerve pain emanating from damage in my spine. When I 14, I had surgery to correct scoliosis. My spine was fused with metal rods and bone chips from T10 to L4

Twenty (!) years on, I am having some pain issues. I can't explain my pain accurately because I can't really feel where it starts. Just that my ankle hurts. Bad. So I was scheduled for a CT to see what was up, but nothing could be seen around all the metal in my back. So then I was scheduled for a CT Myelogram. That is a regular CT after having dye spinally injected.

Dye made with shellfish.

Shellfish to which I am extremely allergic.

Yeah, it isn't as fun as it sounds.

The results said I had multiple levoscoliosis status from T10 to L4. Severe degenerative disc disease at L4-L5 with buckling of the ligamentum flavum and severe bilateral facet arthropathy resulting in severe spinal canal stenosis, severe left neural foramen stenosis at L4-L5, severe bilateral neural foramina stenosis at L5-S1 ... blah blah blah.

Basically, everything not fused is twisted and smushed and pinched and arthritic.

YAY for me!

My surgeon said damage is really not unexpected, but he did not expect damage to that extent. He then offered me two solutions or, rather, suggestions/ Surgery to further fuse my spine or epidural steroid shots.

Hmmm. Let me think ... shots it is.

I went in when scheduled, got up on the table ... let me interject that laying flat on my tummy is very uncomfortable for me. I was told that they would place the needle in, then some dye to make sure they were in the right spot, then inject some saline and finally the steroid. 5 minutes at most.

Riiiight.

They gave me some numbing stuff but it didn't work and I spent the next 32 minutes staring at the clock, counting needle jabs, singing Gary Allan songs in my head and crying silently. At 32 minutes in, there was a particularly painful jab and I let out an audible sob.

Three voices asked me how I was. I said "I'm okay." Which was a lie, but I just wanted them to get done. The only other female asked if my pain level was okay. Choking back more sobs, I said "It's not pleasant." Not exactly a lie. Through dome more questioning, we (they) deduced that the numbing injectionS had worn off.

Ya think?

When a procedure supposed to take 5 minutes lasts well over 6 times that long? Wow, it's almost like they went to medical school.

I finally got done -- it them 54 minutes of jabbing to find a spot and 2 minutes to do everything else -- and I was so very sore. I told the mother that I stopped counting at jab 22. She thought I was exaggerating until she got to jab 26. Those red dots in the photo are needle punctures and neither of us could tell when they hit they hit the same spot 2, 3 or even 4 times.

I will live with the pain from now on, I may end up self-amputating, but I cannot go through the shots again.

Nope. No way. Unh-uh, Forget it.

Little Eyes

2011-03-29T13:15:00.003-05:00

We think they were watching icicle drips through the little window on the door.

Just FYI

2011-02-13T12:50:00.004-06:00

I am having some issues with my back and I can only stand being at the computer for a short while

Holiday Nummies

2010-11-25T13:19:00.003-06:00

Pilgrim hats pre-finishing touches. They were already being snatched up. I had tobe quick with the camera.

Indian corn. Now, I think the frosting should have been more yellow-y.

Teepees.

Acorns. They all had really cute stems when they were left on tin foil to dry. Keko got curios and jumped on the counter to snoop. When he was yelled at, he tried to run and slipped on the foil. He didn't touch them and they weren't dumped but they were jostled against each other and lost their stems. Long and pointless story, eh?

"Drummmmsticks"

Eek

2010-11-25T12:04:00.006-06:00

I went to my doctor (the one who operated on my foot) because I have been having some terrible pain on my right side, from mid-butt to my ankle. On the opposite side from my ouchie hip. Of course. Why make it any easier for me? The pain is bad, sometimes excruciating. I can barely keep from crying sometimes and I can't sit with my feet down or in their normal (wheelchair induced) position. The only effective pain-free position is laying down

It appears that my back is pinching or irritating nerves. Epidural shots have been bandied about, but the doc thinks I need to fuse/rod even more. My fusion ends at L4 now, so there's not a lot of room left to fuse.

And I don't think I can do it. The ides just frightens me so very much. I've had many surgeries, many big surgeries, but this one ...

And, you know what? I may be freaking out for nothing because I don't see the back ~~hacker~~ surgeon until January.

But if things don't go my way, I expect large quantities of balloons. I'm just saying.

No tricks, just treats

2010-11-02T16:25:00.002-05:00

We (the mother, especially) get creative on holidays.

Ghoulie Bones:

Cookies:

Mini (and I do mean mini) Cupcakes:

Jack-O-Krispies:

And the Pièce de résistance, the graveyard cake:

Interim

2010-10-24T11:15:00.000-05:00

I am in the middle of a very frustrating class. VERY. Frustrating. But I have photos and posts in the works (promise). In the meantime ...

Keko and his favorite pillow, Kaiser

Indeed

2010-10-24T11:12:00.000-05:00

Truth, Lies & Video

2010-09-28T11:24:00.004-05:00

I've been ... well, I have written about how I have some bad times. This has been a long one. I started writing an entry yesterday and it was a letter to myself. It was vicious and hateful, it was all the dark thoughts and whispers that fill my head at these times.

The best way to describe it is like this: I had so many plans and all I ever really wanted was to be a wife and a mom. With my diagnosis, it was as if the rug was pulled out from under me. And just like that, my life's goals seemed gone, over. And so I dealt. I did a pretty darn good job of dealing and, now, I am about 98% fine with myself. But there are these times, these moments, where all my difficulties and problems seem to pile on and become an insurmountable obstacle. It's like the adversary is whispering these horrible things in my ear and, most of the time, I am able to block it out or ignore it. But every so often, I listen. And believe.

Usually, it all clears up on its own or with some little something. Like a ray of sunshine unexpectedly blinding me or Kaiser letting me hold him for more than 4 seconds or a phone call from a home/visiting teacher.

But this time coincided with illness (when people with FA get sick, they often become very weak) and I started having trouble doing super simple tasks. Even when I got back to [my] normal, I couldn't shake the dark stuff. And, man, I hate talking about it.

Anyway, I wrote this letter. Right as I was about to hit "publish post", I had a strong urge to check my YouTube subscriptions. Odd, but whatever. So, I went and saw a couple of videos waiting for. I had forgotten all about Relief Society meeting and there was a video of President Monson speaking. I know this about myself for a fact, when I listen to or watch him speak, I will have three reactions every time. Every. Time. I will be inspired. I will laugh. I will cry. And knowing this, I clicked on the video. It did not disappoint and I felt so much renewal and peace and light.

I won't be publishing that letter. But I will print it out and I will print out a text version of that speech. And i am going to keep them and keep them together. And when I hear those whispers again, I will pull out both papers and remember that the letter and whispers are lies and that I have the truth.

Do You See What I See?

2010-08-20T09:56:00.002-05:00

My backyard. Right now (10 am).

Trip pics

2010-06-03T15:23:00.011-05:00

My view on the way to North Carolina. The sister, Karly, the mother.

For some reason, this truck made me giggle hysterically for nearly 40 miles.

We visited a couple of museums. I am particularly interested in children's museums and science centers/natural history museums. We first went to the Greensboro Children's Museum. It has a great setup and a neat sustainable agriculture area. But it is pretty dark and seems less geared towards education and more towards "busy work".

Then we went to the Natural Science Center-Greensboro. It was awesome. Clean and bright and my camera died, so I used my phone (that I can't get photos off of). I saw dinosaur stuff (y'all know how I feel about dinosaurs) and meerkats and a baby lemur and a gorgeous maned fox and a lion fish and an anaconda and I held an albino Corn snake, who apparently fell in love with me and then, although it was safely enclosed, I was stalked by a tiger.

Oh yes I was. It. Was. AWESOME!

And I bought an agate necklace and an onyx egg.

We stumbled on a place called Replacements, Ltd that specializes in china, crystal and silver. They have all kind of replacements. I inherited my grandma's 1948 set of silver. It was missing one piece and I never knew which one until I went to this store. I now have the first set. We also ended up getting a bunch of retro Christmas ornaments. I am all about retro.

On the way home, I fell into the back of a rest area toilet. No, seriously. No. Seriously. A week later, the sister took this after I went to my optometrist (bifocals, people, I need bifocals) because my eye was still swollen and the doctor couldn't get a good photo of my optic nerve. Or something.

I think the flash made it more yellowy

Also, I swear I am wearing clothes.

NC

2010-05-25T23:45:00.006-05:00

We traveled to North Carolina last week. After decades of knowing next-to-nothing of my paternal family, the sister and I have "met" many of our cousins (plus two aunts) on Facebook. We had talked about going down there in (maybe) September or something. But then one of the new found cousins told us how very sick our grandmother was, that maybe she wasn't going to make it.

Mom kind of goaded us into going so early. I just ... didn't care. I know that sounds ugly, but it is what it is. So we packed up and went.

We had a big ol' family dinner at a buffet place. I had last seen most of these people 30 years ago. My cousin, C, had arranged the dinner and made it a surprise for our grandmother.

Had I known our grandmother had had two heart attacks and a stroke in the last few years, I am not sure I'd have gone the surprise route.

Anyway, our grandmother came in, led by two uncles and an aunt. She saw the gathering and started to say something. That was when my uncle stepped out from in front of us. She saw us and said "Oh nooo" and I thought she would collapse. Luckily, my other uncle (on that side, I have 4 by blood, 1 by marriage) had a good hold on her. She grabbed me, crying and shaking, and kissed me several times while telling me she loved me 3 times.

And I hadn't been sure she'd recognize us right away. Duh. I was among MY PEOPLE, if you will recall. And, I was informed by people all week, my cousin D and I could be twins. We even have the same hairline and massive cowlick.

So, yeah, I was recognized. I was last with that side when I was 3. I remember bits. I remember my grandmother a little, I do not remember either of my aunts (by blood), I have just a flash of my oldest uncle, I remember playing with my youngest uncle (he's only 5 years older than me) and I have the most--and clearest--memories of my step-grandfather. The other memory I have is of my uncles, who are (very) identical twins and look very much like my father and are only 19 months younger than my father. So. I was 3 and napping on the couch when several voices woke me. I looked up and saw 3 versions of my dad. I just put my head back down on the couch.

We only go to see one of the twins, but we talked to the other. We had drinks (coffees and pops) with my oldest uncle the day before we left.

It was nice and I was glad I went. I was called by more terms of endearment -- "sugar", "sweetheart", "darlin'", "sugar pie", etc. -- in on hour with my family than in my last 30+ years combined.

I might go again--I don't know.

Back to you

2010-05-07T14:36:00.003-05:00

I don't like raisins.

I would rather eat peas than asparagus. And I hate peas.

The smell of celery makes me nauseous.

I wish I could still walk.

I have recently developed a fondness for pickles.

There was a wasp on my window yesterday.

I saw a bumblebee yesterday. They are so cute. And terrifying.

I think we are heading to North Carolina.

I am going to look at condos.

A grab bar in the vicinity of the toilet does not an "accessible" home make.

I wish I could still dance.

I have been dreaming of moving to Idaho.

I am not moving to Idaho.

I fell while getting into bed. I thought I broke my ankle.

I did not break my ankle.

I did cut both knees, an elbow, several places on my leg (wheelchairs have sharp bits, apparently), twisted the holy heck out of my ankle, tore off half a toenail and bit through my lip.

I don't just fall. I fall BIG.

I have tickets to see Keith Urban and Kris Allen this summer.

I also have tickets to see Jeff Dunham this summer.

I got these for my mom and Godmother for Mother's Day.

Keko thinks he is a dog. He eats everything, barks and rolls over for belly rubs.

I lost a Netflix.

You're all caught up.

At 33

2010-05-04T13:44:00.003-05:00

I don't even know what that expression is saying.

I think it is time for a change. I mean a major change. Y'all know that I have been working on being okay with the no husband/no kids/probably just cats deal, right? A few days ago I woke up feeling ... feeling I had some work to do.

Work on myself, I mean. The kid/husband thing is put away for now. Will it ever happen for me? I think it will, but I have stuff to do. I wouldn't go as far as saying I've had a revelation or epiphany or whatever. Just a feeling.

A strong feeling, urging me to do this or that.

If I follow this feeling and it just leads me to putting my affairs in order and leave an adorable corpse --I will be greatly displeased.

Today, I learned my paternal grandmother is very sick. She may not make it. I did write about her in my old blog. I wish this (possibly) impending loss affected me more.

My mom's mom was my Grandma. She was the best grandma ever. I can hardly wait to see her again.

I certainly don't want to feel like I'm losing another grandma, but I wish ... I wish I had known her enough to feel a loss of some significance, no matter how small.

I am praying for her. And, when necessary, I will what I can to assist in her eternal journey.

I just wish it were different and, maybe, someday it will be.

That is not to say, even in this light, that I would want a relationship with my father. I used to think I would, even just a civil friendship. But, by his choice, we haven't spoken in 15 years. Even before that, our relationship ... was almost nonexistent. Christmas, birthdays and occasional weekends and even those paltry interactions became increasingly toxic.

And I just do not have the time or the wherewithal deal with that crap anymore.

Just photos

2010-04-29T12:52:00.001-05:00

Kaiser is 15+ pounds of fluffiness and Keko has decided that he makes an awesome pillow.

Finally

2010-04-28T15:49:00.001-05:00

I don't feel like writing a lot. Nothing overly exciting at das haus. Or in the nearby vicinity.

I have "met" 4 cousins on Facebook. Paternal cousins. They seem very nice and when I found them ... okay. First, I know nothing (other than a name) about my paternal grandfather. Using FamilySearch/Ancestry.com/RootsWeb, I have traced my maternal grandfather's line to the early 1700's and the same with my maternal grandmother's side. I have a lot of work yet to do, but there it is. My paternal grandmother's side, though, is traced to the early 1200's and beyond. There is no shortage of information for this line, I just haven't gotten it all filled in. Lazy woman that I am.

There is a fascinating reason that there is no shortage of information for my paternal grandmother's side. My 17th or 18th great-grandparents (I lost count) were the great-grandparents of a Queen of England and another however-many-greats-grandmother was the mother of another Queen. Both Queens were married to the same King and both were beheaded.

And that is the extent of my anti-Google vague-ishness.

And I completely digress.

Anyway, I (all 5'3" of my brown-eyed, brunette self) grew up in this:

Surrounded by blue-eyed blondes. And of the 6 children of these cousins, all have blue eyes and all save one are blondes. Part of me wants to get married and have babies just to see what if...

AGAIN I digress.

I know the names of my father's siblings. I could tell you. You would laugh. But I will keep with my anti-Google vague-ishness. One day, I googled the name of one of the siblings and found a Facebook page for one of my cousins. Well, I wasn't sure it was a cousin. I clicked the link and saw a photo ... then another cousin's photo ... then that cousin's sister ... and then I thought ...

MY PEOPLE!!!

Brown eyes, brunettes, glass cutting cheekbones, same chin, same lips, same smiles ... I am serious. We all look so much alike, it's almost scary.

2

2010-04-28T15:37:00.002-05:00

Then:

Now:

"Better Than Brownies Chocolate Cookies"

2010-04-13T10:15:00.005-05:00

I made some "Better Than Brownies Chocolate Cookies" after I saw them on Brown Eyed Baker.

I wouldn't say they were better than brownies, but they tasted quite similar to homemade brownies, which I adore. The sister doesn't care for either the cookies or homemade brownies. She is a mix-from-a-box kind of girl.

The cookies (or homemade brownies) are not particularly sweet and are sooo rich. I liked these cookies, but since it was only me eating them, I probably won't make them again. Any time soon anyway.

Better-than-Brownies Chocolate Cookies

from Brown Eyed Baker

Makes 24 large cookies

2 2/3 cups (about 16 ounces) bittersweet chocolate, chopped
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 eggs
1 1/3 cups granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
½ cup all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon baking powder
1 cup semisweet or bittersweet chocolate chips

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line two large baking sheets with parchment paper of a silicone baking mat.

2. Put the chocolate and butter in a heatproof bowl and set it over a saucepan of barely simmering water, stirring occasionally, until completely melted and smooth.

3. In the meantime, stir together the eggs, vanilla and sugar in a medium bowl. Set aside.

4. In a small bowl, sift together the flour and baking powder.

5. Add the melted chocolate mixture to the egg mixture and stir to combine well. Slowly add the dry ingredients, folding them into the batter. Once all of the flour is incorporated, stir in the chocolate chips.

6. Scoop 1½ tablespoons of dough (a medium cookie scoop’s worth) onto prepared baking sheets. Bake for 10-12 minutes or until they are firm on the outside. Like brownies, do not overbake! Leave to cool completely on the baking sheets.

So it goes

2010-04-06T15:09:00.005-05:00

I have managed to lose about 11 pounds since my last weigh in. Which I probably promptly gained back in their entirety by going to eat at a buffet.

Sigh.

First, I want to say that I miss my Kirsche. I don't know that I will ever not miss her. I still pray about her. I think my friend, Happy Hermit, really nailed it--she is more than a cat, she's like my child.

Please don't misunderstand and think that I am saying my love for my cat is equal to your love for your child, and thus an extreme exaggeration. I know it is different, but very strong, nonetheless.

Maybe it's because I have no children. Maybe it's because she picked me. Maybe it's because she loved football. Seriously. She did. Maybe it's because she could be tucked away in the nearby home of whomever kept ripping down my "Lost Cat" posters.

I don't know. I still want her back. And I will joyfully welcome her home if she ever escapes or I see her in the window of said nearby home. At which point, I will proceed to go redneck trailer court bitch ass biblical crazy on the homeowner.

Ahem.

But I have peace about her. I didn't have that for a long time. It was like ... personal. Like God was plotting the best way to kick me when I was down or something. It was less and less about *her* and more and more about the loss. Does that make any sense?

Anyway, the sister and I were talking on a Thursday and she mentioned that she prayed for me to find peace about Kirsche. I said that I had--that she was either in a loving (less loving than mine, still) home here or "up there" and, either way, I'll see her again. And on we talked about other stuff.

The sister walks Karly at 9 pm-ish every night. That night, she returned very out of breath and excitedly told us she had found a kitty that looked like (our beloved) Tinker and asked what to do. This cat had called to her and walked right up to her -- she was walking the dog, remember? We have become sensitized towards lost pets and she went back to see if it was there. And it was. The sister brought him home and we put him in a cat carrier to keep him and our pets safe. He was not a fan of this treatment and yowled and yowled. We shut him in my room that night.

He was super people friendly, not at all afraid of the dog OR the cat. And they seemed to like him just fine the next day. He was obviously someone's pet (he is 6-7 months old) and I just couldn't bear the thought that he was someone's Kirsche. I spent all the next day calling shelters and vets and writing "Found Cat" ads. Nobody answered. It infuriated me -- this sweet kitty was somebody's pet and they're like "oh, well"?

We talked about keeping him (we were all waffling) after no claims. I thought the timing was crazy weird -- just that morning I admitted for the first time outloud that I truly had peace and *boom* the sister is found by a kitty? And said kitty was completely at home here within a few hours. But he wasn't my kitty, y'know? It went back and forth for a while.

We kept him.

His name is Keko (key-koh).

I haven't gotten a really good photo -- he has spots and his face is an odd shape. Kind of a mini cheetah, plus he has freckles on his nose. But, here he is:

Snoozing on the couch Friday (remember, he was just found the night before) afternoon:

Can you see his freckles?

Eating the dog's food (yep, he fits right in ).

And, less than 12 hours after he was found:

And so

2010-03-30T11:55:00.004-05:00

I know that I haven't written in forever and I do apologize. Like I posted previously, I have some dark emotional times and I can't keep up my mood or facade for much longer than a Twitter post and I don't want to write about those trying times much even if I felt like doing so. Which I rarely do.

Anyhoozle, I've been working on a project that will debut this summer. I'll post then, but it's just life stuff--not kids or pets or boyfriend stuff. Just life.

Do you know how hard it is to lose weight when you can't even stand on a treadmill? Sheesh. I'm working on it, though. More water, less pop (ugh. water). Lifting some weights. I don't know if I've ever mentioned how much I enjoy lifting weights. I love it -- not steroids-in-a-bikini love, but still. Not sure how it is all going, because I can only get to a roll-on scale once a month. I can't stand without some kind of assistance (a counter top, bars, a human) for longer than a few seconds. Not conducive to an accurate scale reading.

The sister and I have plans for the State Fair again this. Last year, we only went so I could see Heart. Wicked awesome. But maneuvering around the fairgrounds was difficult. I had just gotten a new wheelchair and the factory settings were to low for the sister to comfortably push, I didn't have a scooter --- blah blah blah.

Two videos. Okay, we all know my cat is a tad weird. Just a scosh. He doesn't care much for milk or cream. He is afraid of ice cream. He's not even all that crazy over tuna. But open a can of spaghetti and he is all over that action!

Maybe you remember my New Year's resolution to cathch Kaiser using the hallway rug to slide? Voila...

What are they trying to say?

2010-03-07T14:28:00.004-06:00

Hmmm, I wonder ...

*also used for Mrs. Paul's

IN UNISON:

The mother: "That is so Kim's daughter."

The sister: "Make me an auntie."

A little while

2010-02-15T11:23:00.002-06:00

I am ... taking a wee blogging break. I don't know how long it will last, maybe 2 more months or 2 weeks or 2 days or 2 hours, I just thought I should let y'all know. I am just (mentally, emotionally) in a very bad place right now.

I have "spells" where all the years and progress I have used coming to terms with my Friedreich's Ataxia and all that it affects (read: everything) completely seems to unravel.

Now is such a time.

Thoughts I'm thinking

2010-01-18T17:26:00.008-06:00

I know -- so much for resolutions. In my (admittedly weak) defense, I have been ill, the sister has been dealing with painful nerves and/or a cyst in her wrist, the mother had/is having horribly painful dental issues and my hip has been killing me.

My hip?

Kinda. Many, many moons ago, I had spine surgery to correct my scoliosis. Part of my spine was straightened, holes were drilled through my vertebrae and stainless steel rods were placed in and fused with bone chips from my right hip. I have a scar -- of which I am terribly embarrassed -- down the center of my back, from mid-shoulder blades to (aw geez, Kim, public forum!!) my butt. The fusion ends two vertebrae above my pelvis.

Thank God I can still do a proper twist!

Anyway, those two vertebrae are arthritic, but only on the left side. So the pain is actually from my back. But it is just a lot easier to say "my hip hurts" than "there is much pain radiating from the left side of the two vertebrae just above my pelvis that remain unfused."

So, anyhoo, my left hip becomes unbearably painful at times. And I do mean unbearable. To the point where suicide seems a logical option (Don't worry, I realize that depriving the world of the wonder that is me would be just plain selfish. Selfish and cruel). It was so bad a few years ago, that I slept sitting up for 6 months. Sitting on my mattress, back against the wall, pillows stacked on my side - all I could do was lean slightly to my right.

Today marks the beginning of classes this term. I am taking a 4 hour Economics course. I love Economics and Accounting.

Hi. My name is Kim and I am a nerd.

I am quite nervous about this course, though. It is the first time I have ever taken a class that is graded on a curve.

I wrote this before I dropped the class. I am really, really disappointed. I was so amped up and ready for it. I love Economics. I just do. But I absolutely could not afford it. Thought I could, but I was wrong. I'll shoot for Summer.

I know that most of you know how much I want to be a mom. It doesn't look like that will happen and I am working on being okay with that. Not there yet, but it's a process. Anyway, I've had a soft spot for Haiti for a while. Probably since a friend started the adoption process.

I have gathered physical donations -- clothes, formula, food, toiletries -- and sent them on a regular basis. I have been encouraging people to adopt from Haiti (and Ethiopia) for years. My pleas have fallen on deaf ears, people would would rather adopt from Europe or Guatemala -- even if the cost is 2 or 3 times more expensive.

I will say, in their defense, that Guatemala is very open-minded and accepting of disabled adopters and disabled singles adopting. Of course the cost is prohibitive, in my opinion.

I digress.

I am not going to point at racism as the reason for lack of interest in adopting from Haiti (and Ethiopia). You can infer whatever you wish.

But now? BIG clamor and people falling all over themselves wanting to adopt "those poor kids". I am glad that there is attention being paid now, and I pray to God it is enough, but it just smacks of a trend. Like Haiti is the "it" thing now, but in a few weeks ...

I don't know, just some things that are on my mind.

2010-01-18T16:24:00.002-06:00

Haiti.

My God.

Quelle horreur.

I cannot fathom ... I cannot understand. The devastation makes me sick and the children ... I have such a heart for children (for all the good it does).

And if I hear one more so-called Christian justify this colossal tragedy with some Satanic pact, I will be justifiably provoked to physical violence. Do some damned research instead of parroting some tottering old fool with a television show. There was no pact and, if there was, it was made by a handful of people who were extraordinarily desperate to be freed from the horrors of tyrannical oppression.

You are not exempt from compassion or empathy or sympathy. And, if you think you are, don't be surprised to find yourself also exempt from God's compassion and empathy and sympathy.

"...Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."
Matthew 25:40

Christmas Photos

2010-01-12T11:30:00.002-06:00

Before:

I have been looking for a small white tree for all of my ELVIS decorations. The mother found one:

Kaiser's stocking:

Karly's stocking:

I think she knows she's getting a peanut butter bone:

ELVIS stockings!:

Yum:

Forget catnip mice, there is an empty box to be had:

After:

Karly

2010-01-09T12:35:00.000-06:00

This post is just for the sake of posterity.

I am staunchly a cat person. I loves me some kitties. That doesn't change the fact that I love our dog, Karly.

In 2005, we lost our first cat. We had Tinker for over 21 years and, although I got Kaiser a bit later, the sister couldn't (at the time) bear to have another cat. She had always wanted a dog, though. We watched the classifieds for a suitable pup. One day, an ad caught our attention. It started out "We had an oops!" They were Pembroke Welsh Corgi breeders right next to Rottweiler breeders.

It was an accident waiting to happen.

Enter Karly.

She was an adorable ball of pudge, who slept in shoes and couldn't figure out the stairs or the couch for the longest time.

In case you were wondering -- size 10.5 womens Adidas. The sister's.

Unlike Kaiser, who adores the paparazzi, Karly hates cameras and does her best to hide from or avoid them.

Karly is very protective. Of us, of Kaiser, of the neighborhood in general. She has a scary bark, a Rottweiler bark, and sounds like a very big dog. But everyone loves her. The neighbors buy her treats and Christmas presents, the older neighbors' kids greet Karly during visits, the people at the bank ask about her, one of the farmer's market vendors addresses emails to "[The mother] & Karly", the veterinarian emails me about her (not about Kaiser, though) and the mail-man stops his truck to play with her.

I am not exaggerating AT ALL when I say that my dog has more of a social life than me. I mean, really, the mailman never rubs my belly.

Karly likes to sleep covered up.

Or on her back.

Or covered up on her back.

That green afghan is her blankie, by the way.

In this house, I am her least favorite human. Don't misunderstand, she loves and she would happily rip out the throat of anyone hurting me -- she just loves the other two more. However, she cannot stand when I am hurt or upset or sick. She does whatever she can to make me feel better. Sometimes my back hurts too much to sleep lying down, so I sleep in my wheelchair with my feet propped up on a chair or couch. One time, Karly's leg was bothering her and she couldn't jump up to get to me, but wanted to sleep with me and comfort me so bad. This was what she came up with and, yes, she is asleep.

She crosses her legs when she lays down.

Housetraining took her about a week to master. She is exceedingly embarrassed if she has an accident or gets sick inside. With the exception of "stay" and "come", I taught her all of her tricks in two days

Karly is SMART. Like scary smart. You parents know how you sometimes spell things to avoid little pitchers with big ears? Yeah. We do that, too. Karly's favorite toy is a tug. She knows "tug", so we started spelling it. As in "Mom, where is the t-u-g?" She caught on to that real quick, so we started calling it a "gut". She got that, too. Now we spell it "g-u-t". I think she's catching on to that, though.

I am going to list the words she knows and asterisks will denote tricks.

dance*
shake*
upstairs
downstairs
no
okay
"the sister"
the sister's name
Mom
Kim
Kaiser
Kirsche
mail/m-a-i-l/post (as in mail)
back door
front door
potty
out
car
shoes
bank
"where's ___"
"(someone)'s home"
settle
drink
kitchen
bite
be nice (she gets a little rough because she gets excited when getting treats)
come*
brush
good girl
van
go
ride
up*
sit*
lay down*
show me your belly*
peanut butter
cookie
tug/t-u-g/gut
rug (she has special spot for treats)
treats
bones
nummies
cheese
coffee
pop
"I'll save you some." (she likes pop)
all gone
speak*
indoor voice
J, D, R, L, L & J (the names of her favorite neighbors)
candy
icky
ball
drop it
"go get ___"
leash
squeak (a squeaky toy)
blankie
night-night
scoot
kisses
"give ___ kisses"
bye-bye
"wait a minute"

Resolution #2?

2010-01-08T14:02:00.001-06:00

Check.

VICTORY

2010-01-06T15:00:00.003-06:00

Now, I realize that most (if not all) of you do not share my love of football, especially Iowa football. Please bear with me.

Last night was more than a win. The Big Ten conference, and Iowa in particular, gets little respect outside of the midwest. For the past month, all we've been hearing is how bad Georgia Tech's offense was going to hurt us. Everybody just crowed about how they would kill us dead.

I think true Iowa fans had the 411. At least, I did. I mean, please, just look at the mascots. Iowa Hawkeyes vs. Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets. Birds of prey against winged stinging creatures.

As terrifying as winged stinging creatures are to me, personally -- it really wasn't much of a match up.

2010 ORANGE BOWL CHAMPIONS: IOWA HAWKEYES

Out with 2009

2010-01-04T11:08:00.004-06:00

I made resolutions this year to start today. The beginning of a new year on a Friday just shorts out my brain. But today is good. My healthier eating resolution will be (temporarily, I swear) derailed tomorrow. Tuesday is pizza day, in honor of Iowa playing Georgia Tech in the Orange Bowl.

GO HAWKEYES!!!

I also resolve to post something here every other day, even if it is only a photo.

I resolve to find my card reader, so that I can post photos.

I resolve to film Kaiser jumping on to and using the rug to slide down the hallway.

Side note: when I first got Kaiser, he was nuts. My bedroom has wood floors and, whether it was a t-shirt or a sheet, Kaiser would run and jump and slide. He loved it! Kaiser is also not what you would call dainty and, every night during his shenanigans (yes, I did just use the word "shenanigans"), the mother would yell at me to "SETTLE!" She refused to believe it was that little cat. Then one day. he discovered he could do his trick in the entryway and the mother couldn't quite believe he was doing what he was doing. Vindication was mine!

I resolve to figure out a way to use my new Wii Fit. Oddly enough, the Wii Fit board does not work with a wheelchair. I know! I was shocked, too.

I resolve to get a "pixie" haircut. I have, for years, wanted this hairstyle. 2010 is my year.

I resolve to kick my Mt. Dew habit by May 1, 2010. That seems like a lot of time, but I am the only one here who drinks it and I have a lot stored up.

I resolve to try a new recipe once a week. I save recipes and save recipes and never use them. Hopefully, I will remember which blog I found them on in order to give proper credit.

I resolve to read the Bible, BoM, D&C and Pearl cover to cover this year. I have read 2 of the 4 before, long before, but tend to pick through and read *this* chapter or *that* book.

I resolve to not wear pajamas all day, every day for more than two days a week.

I resolve to make it to Nauvoo at least once this year.

I resolve to stop suspecting my (probably innocent--probably) neighbors of kitty-napping.

I resolve to read 2 books per month. I want to go for 1 a week but I get on reading binges, where I read a lot and the next week I'll be like "I want to make a Sims 3 version of Wentworth Miller and marry him! Yay!"

I actually think I can keep all of these. Maybe not the pajamas one, but we shall see.

On with 2010!

Merry Christmas

2009-12-25T13:01:00.001-06:00

I just wanted to take a moment and thank you for allowing me to be (however small or insignificant) a part of your life this year.

Whether you write about a larger-than-normal family that has captivated me for years, a gorgeous little girl who loves her some kitties, a bountiful garden, a boy who draws cherry-laden palm trees, or are one who supports my Kindle habit you've all been little rays of sunshine for me. When things are dark, you all remind me that there is something other. You've given me advice or been sounding boards, you have shared my grief for a lost cat, you have prayed or cheered for a born-too-early-cousin (technically, that was last year, but it was ongoing).

Whether you agree with my rarely mentioned religious or political views, whether you think I'm funny or pathetic, whether you come here for the pets ... thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You have added light and levity to my soul and psyche.

I pray our Heavenly Father blesses, watches over, keeps and protects you and yours in this most blessed season and in the coming year.

La la la

2009-12-03T09:57:00.002-06:00

Vent vent vent

2009-11-19T10:25:00.002-06:00

The biggest stresser in my life recently is school. Specifically, "GW" class.

School has always been very easy for me--to the point where I rarely opened a text book. I remember getting my first "real" report card in 6th grade. It was Social Studies class, Mrs. S (who collected frogs and was wearing a navy blue skirt with red trim and yellow and green appliqued frogs) handed them out and just beamed at me. Beamed! I looked the blue and white striped paper. Mostly "A"s. "B" in gym--apparently I was not "meeting [my] potential". This was before I was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy. Still. Stings a little.

The mother kept telling me to "wait until junior high/high school/college/university" because then I would be challenged. Yes, that's right. For some of my grade school years we were K-6 and that meant a junior high. I never went, it was middle school by the time I was in 6th grade. And we could still be paddled when I went to kindergarten.

I digress.

I had so hoped that this class would be a challenge. My GW prof is a nice lady but she is a stereotypical artist. Class is so disorganized. Some students "attend" online. Three times in the last three classes, she has forgotten to flip her mic on. So she talks for 10 minutes to the rest of the class and the online student get a silent vacuum. For, one of those classes she turned off the online access and we missed an hour and 25 minutes.

Due dates mean nothing and are changed randomly and without notice. Closed assignments (after a due date passes, you can no longer upload your completed assignment) are re-opened on a whim. Our last quiz was due the 11th. Online, 10 questions, open for five days. She's going to re-open the wuix because -- and I QUOTE -- "some people just didn't get around to it."

What?? It had a due date. A DUE date!! I kind of thought there would be consequences for late or incomplete work. Silly Kim! Why, just look at the syllabus!

Homework and in class quizzes: Almost every week you will be asked to turn in homework into the drop box on ICON. I DO NOT ACCEPT LATE WORK.

Emphasis hers. Insanity mine.

But the kicker. Oh, the kicker.

I got a "D" for my midterm grade. A "D"? What is a "D"? is it bad? Oh. How bad? Oh, that bad? I see.

%$#Q^&#$E )_^$#

I wrote to her, barely containing my panic:

"[name] I got my midterm grade and was wondering what (aside from actual class time) what I am missing. I've gotten all but one assignment in to the dropbox on time or early and I completed the quiz before it was due the first time."

She replied:

I apologize for your mid-term grade report. You have missed three classes and I thought your assignments had not been turned in. I reviewed your progress and my email exchange with you and now I remember you had computer issues.

Any how, you seem to be on the right track so no worries at this time. I apologize if I gave you a scare

Um. I missed the classes. I turned all my work for them. She just assumed I hadn't. Instead of ... oh, I don't know ... CHECKING, she just gave me a "D". A BLEEPING "D"! And, at the U of I, you have to sign papers acknowledging you have received a "D" or "F", because it may affect your financial aid. I don't receive financial aid, but I still had to sign for a grade that she based on assumptions. Wrong assumptions.

It's a bitter, bitter pill.

Veteran's Day

2009-11-11T13:00:00.005-06:00

Dear Grandpa,

We love you and we are so proud of you. We miss you every day, but look forward to seeing you again.

Love,
all of us

A gunner's mate on the U.S.S. Crescent City, a hospital transport ship in WWII -- one of the most gruesome jobs there was.

Yummm

2009-11-10T16:56:00.002-06:00

Kaiser is a finicky eater. He enjoys his food and dog food. And the occasional bite of tuna.

He refuses milk or cream, although he sometimes likes to lick butter. He detests cheese. He is, literally, afraid of ice cream.

The other day, the mother opened a Boyardee-knock off can of spaghetti ...

She should look in to cat food

2009-11-04T10:32:00.004-06:00

I am not one to plug various purchases on my blog, unless I truly believe in them or just plain love a product. Or I get paid.

I, for one, love Maybelline Lash Stilletto. Plug.

Some weeks ago I sent away for a sample pouch of Rachael Ray's new dog food, Nutrish, for Karly.

Last year, when the mother and I went to Denver, Karly was poisoned. I do not know by whom, our neighbors LOVE that dog. And I mean love--they wrap Christmas presents for her.

You know, who poisons puppies?

Her so cuuute.

Anyway, she was very sick and could only eat organic baby rice cereal and organic baby food. She is fine now, but we stick to organic dog food. We usually buy her Newman's Own Organic Dog Food and she loves it.

I buy a lot of Newman's stuff for myself, too, but I digress.

I saw a commercial for Nutrish and thought it would be a nice one-time treat for Karly. When the sample finally arrived, we decided to use it as treats. Karly liked it a lot (though not as much as, say, peanut butter). But Kaiser ... Kaiser LOVES Nutrish!

To the point that we bought a bag to parse out as kitty treats. Kaiser had other ideas.

That's right. The cat chewed through a bag to eat dog food.

The mother gave Karly a handful of Nutrish in her bowl as a snack. Kaiser would have none of that (have I mentioned he doesn't share well?).

That gray-ish tub to his right? Special cat food.

Don't I know you?

2009-11-02T11:35:00.005-06:00

I have been so terrible about updating. Lo siento, dudes (-ettes, if you prefer). Kaiser feels you need reminding of his stunningly good-looking superiority, as well.

There.

My home teacher, who is just awesome, was here yesterday after church. He surprised me by telling me (last minute!) that he was bringing the bishop.

Dun-Dun-DUN!

This may be hard for you to believe, it was for me, but I had done nothing wrong! I am not entirely certain why he came over yesterday. But it was a good visit, he whipped out his BoM, D&C and Bible to read passages from in answer to several of my queries. My bishop is so cool. Even my mom really likes him ("He's a hoot!"). She likes my ht, too.

We have stake conference this coming Sunday and I may finally get the sister in the building for the Christmas Creche. We shall see.

I bought a new card reader, so I will have a ton of photos. I don't know if I should post them--they're kind of old.

I'll try to post more often.

Cross my heart.

2009-09-23T14:23:00.002-05:00

Just a quick mini post. Will detail more tomorrow.

- Just learned really cute fellow is LDS. Score. Then learned he is 22. Crap.

- Not renewing foster care license.

- Iowa's capital is quite interested in my proposal. his proposal is barely fleshed out and not anywhere near even paper reality. Do I want to live there? Um. Not really.

- In an hour, a repair man is coming to look at the basement lift. Best case scenario: he figures it out and I lay eyes on my ELVIS collection for the first time in 3+ years (I KNOW!!!). Worst case scenario: He somehow sets the lift on fire and the flames quickly engulfs the house, destroying everything.

HEART!

2009-08-25T20:05:00.001-05:00

The audio turned out pretty good. I have several other Heart videos, as well as some Journey.

It is 8 pm...

2009-08-23T19:59:00.000-05:00

Do you know where Kim is?

One hint.

Merry, merry

2009-08-18T11:54:00.003-05:00

I have so many plans ... sigh.

The mother and sister have ventured north to Michigan. The sister is a Christmas fiend! She goes over-the-top and would go farther if she wasn't reigned in by Mom. Take a peek. Yep.

I like it. I wish more of the house was decorated, year-round. I have ideas, but no execution skills. And I have no eye for colors.

Anyway, they're off to Bronner's CHRISTmas Wonderland in Frakenmuth, Michigan.

I am here to make sure the dog doesn't commit suicide and that the cat doesn't commit homicide.

I think he'd practice on the dog first...

Summer pretties

2009-08-03T14:56:00.003-05:00

This past July was the coolest in recorded Iowa history, with a daily average high of 68.2 degrees. Even the mums think it's Fall:

Eschewing catnip mice

2009-08-03T13:51:00.003-05:00

Kaiser's favorite toy, the recently installed new bathtub.

I took a bath yesterday and he read me the riot act. He was mad. Had he spoken English, I do believe he would have invented a few new cuss words.

I've said it before

2009-08-02T12:42:00.002-05:00

And I'll say it again ... you know what still makes me ridiculously happy? The scene in Jurassic Park when they see the brachiosaurus for the first time.

Yes. This is the scene I cried at. The scene I still get misty over.

I am a dork.

I laughed...

2009-07-13T11:39:00.003-05:00

... til I cried. I find this type of scenario hilarious -- the dog scene in "Something About Mary", the raccoon scene in "Elf", the Quizno's spongmonkeys ...

I laugh so hard and so long that my stomach hurts.

Doorknobs & fish fillets

2009-07-03T16:54:00.006-05:00

That's my nightgown, I'm not responsible for its behavior.

My bathroom is being remodeled, starting Monday. We went to Lowe's and bought a new light fixture, drawer pulls, hinges, closet doorknobs and a new doorknob for the door (in case you weren't with me on that one).

I am excited to get rid of the ginormous, jetted jacuzzi tub that is currently in there. Some people love them, but this is a pain to clean and use. I tried the jets once, several years ago. I felt like I was caught in a riptide. I was pushed all over the tub. Not fun.

Well, maybe a little.

For lunch, we went to Biaggi's. People seem to love the restaurant, but I wasn't impressed by my previous taste of their cooking. There was a lady there who stared at me the whole lunch. I mean, she didn't even look at her plate.

I'd like to think she was unbelievably jealous of my stunning beauty, but I think she was just a rude person.

Yep--wheelchair. Get over it, lady.

I waffled (as per my usual decision making strategy). Chicken Marsala or Chiléan Sea Bass? Chiléan Sea Bass or Chicken Marsala. I know I love Chicken Marsala. I love it so much, were I not convinced of its WoW okayness, I would be seriously tempted to ignore the WoW.

Chicken Marsala: The new gateway drug.

I have a confession, though. I am a dinosaur geek. You all know that already, right? I cried during Jurassic Park when they saw the brachiosaurus. CRIED! I still get misty!

Then they see the raptors being fed a live cow and they're all squicked about it and Hammond's all "Yes. Well. Who wants lunch?" And they were all served Chiléan Sea Bass. I have wanted to try it ever since but, as I have mentioned, I am not much for trying new foods.

But there it was, beckoning me from the menu. Fresh fillet brushed with herb-garlic oil, roasted red pepper cream sauce, sautéed spinach and garlic mashed potatoes. Sounds delightful, no?

The potatoes and spinach were great. The roasted red pepper cream sauce tasted like puréed red peppers and the bass had almost no flavor. It was flaky, though.

I think I'll stick with that other Italian restaurant chain. Besides, I can get my ~~gateway drug~~ Chicken Marsala stuffed for the same price as the flavorless fish. They have garlic mashed potatoes, too.

And Rude Staring Lady is a regular at Biaggi's.

They can keep her.

Saucer of milk for one

2009-07-02T15:44:00.006-05:00

Kaiser misses Kirsche. He has frequently been sick (he has rarely had even hairballs), sneaking out (to look for her, apparently) and he has hidden her favorite ball of green yarn. We can see it, but only kitty arms can reach it (it is farther back than it looks in the photo). I guess if Kirsche can't play with it, nobody else can.

He is freaking me out.

I'm taking this pretty hard, myself. I am not a sound sleeper, anyway, and now I'm just happy when the clock gets to 5 am. That seems a decent hour to rise (as opposed to 1 or 2).

I may actually be depressed. I don't know, I just can't seem to let go or move on or whatever. I try to tell myself she's just a cat, but that has the opposite effect and I get angry. Maybe another 3 weeks.

Lord, I AM a crazy cat lady.

Several years ago, I developed something called Lichen Planus (LP) on my ankles. It's like a rash of terribly itchy blisters. I take a shot of cortisone every three months and usually don't have any problems or breakouts. The exception is when I am severly stressed. My grandma dying actually seems to have triggered the first episode. Then my grandpa ... I've been fine until the last few days. I woke up scratching my ankle. In my sleep, I had scratched until it bled.

I have never had a breakout like this. The front of my ankles look blistered, the backs look like severe acne (according to Mom). And the itching ...

I should get some karmic bonus points for this one. And, if not in the form of a 6lb. kitty-kiss giving flood rescue, I will take something tall, dark and handsome, thankyouverymuch.

Mango (New Fruit Monday)

2009-06-29T09:17:00.004-05:00

I am not exactly a picky eater, I prefer being called a "safe eater". I knows what I likes and I eats what I knows.

I am not adventurous when it comes to food. Maybe because the last time I tried a "creative culinary masterpiece" ("Fruits of the Sea"), I was violently ill for three days and ended up with an acute shellfish allergy.

"You eat shrimp, you die", my allergist warns. Shrimp is my favorite thing to eat and I know that someday the allure of scampi will overide any and all self preservation instincts.

But I know that tastes change. Case in point: I used to hate anything spicy, especially Mexican cuisine. I loved Italian food. I don't know what changed or why it changed, but Mexican is now my favorite ethnic cuisine to eat and I can take or leave Italian.

I keep trying to enjoy plain pickles. I so want to like pickles. Alas, unless they are smeared with cream cheese and wrapped in dried beef, I just cannot eat them.

I wan to try new things and eat more fruit. So, I decided that I would try one new fruit each week, for the summer. Something that I have never had, at least in the actual fruit form. I'm not sure what I will be getting. I gave the list to my sister to surprise me.

Today was a mango. Nope, I have never had just a plain mango.

I immediately had an audience.

I quickly realized that I had no idea how one eats a mango. After some mental debate, I decided to just bite into it like an apple.

Juicy, but not the way to go. Mango peel is, of course, edible. It is thicker than apple peel, but not as thick as an orange peel. Like an orange peel, mango peel has a stronger taste. Kind of bitter. So, I chopped it and ate it like melon.

It tastes like an orange, pineapple & peach. The sweet and smooth of the peach, the tartness without the bite of the pineapple and the citrus-y sunniness of the orange.

Karly loved it. I am kind of meh on the mango experience.

*Yes, it was ripe, I guess the photo is bad. Lo siento*

Sunday will come

2009-06-28T17:36:00.003-05:00

I cannot express how much this message moves me. I believe anyone, Mormon or not, can and will be inspired by this message. It is timeless, in the vein of "this too shall pass". Both statements are true in any context or facet of life. There are always going to be dark, wretched Fridays and there are always going to be beautiful, glorious Sundays.

Until that final amazing Sunday when we are called home, we must remember that those awful Fridays shall pass and those wonderful Sundays will come.

Another day, another post

2009-06-15T17:50:00.003-05:00

Okay. I think I've absolutely decided to stay put, blog-wise. Kirsche is not home and there has been no sign of her. I know I love my pets hard, maybe too much, but I miss her terribly. Everyone does. Poor Kaiser wanders the house crying and calling for her, looking under the furniture and constantly searching for her. He is so melancholy, it just tears me up.

But we'll be okay.

I'll get back to doing what I do best. Writing posts of little-to-no consequence!! Yay me!!

What's a life lesson you've learned from a cartoon?
Um … Fish are friends, not food? Ohana means family and family means no one is left behind? Salagadoola means menchicka booleroo, but the thingmabob that does the job is bibbidi-bobbidi-boo? Genies have PHENOMENAL COSMIC POWERS and itty bitty living spaces?

Just FYI

2009-06-12T11:21:00.003-05:00

I don't know if I will be keeping this blog. It seems to be a thing of mine to start a new blog after a loss. I don't know, maybe there is some psycho-analytical "moving on" stuff there. I stopped writing at my first journal shortly after my cat, Tinker, died but before my grandma died. I deleted a bunch of entries, but it is still up if you wish to peruse the archives and/or remember when I used to be funny.

I had another blogspot blog, but deleted it after both of my grandparents died. I think, maybe, I get too sad and cry too much when I see photos or past entries.

Oh, I don't know. Right now, I am just ridiculously sad.

Kirsche is missing

2009-06-09T15:17:00.004-05:00

I wrote something else earlier ... yeserday, I guess. I was going to proofread it and post, but I am a mess. Kirsche has disappeared. We can't find her and we've looked all over. She is shy and very skittish and, like most cats, she loves to hole up in a good hiding space.

Often this space is under my mom's bed. We tend not to read to much into her sometimes lengthy absences from the public. She comes out to use her box and she ALWAYS demands food at 6 p.m. sharp.

I don't remember seeing her much yesterday. I ~~am sure~~ think I heard her around noon. But, writing this, I am not so sure. I am so flustered, I can't remember what I think I know.

I think she must have gotten outside. I don't know how, but she must have. She's so afraid of outside, though. She took so long to even approach an open window. Why would she go outside?

She is so little and she isn't able to smell properly and she has some sight issues (thanks to the flood). And she has no claws and she is such a fraidy-cat. She must be so scared wherever she is.

I've been up all night, hoping she would emerge from her latest hiding spot and I would feel silly for getting so worked up over nothing.

Now I am waiting for 7 a.m. so I can call the shelters and talk to neighnors.

I just want her to come home.

Flutterbies

2009-05-29T16:03:00.003-05:00

I just finished a blog. But I'm not sure I want to publish it. Mental debate shall ensue. In the meantime, here are some pretty blue butterflies.

Yanked

2009-05-27T12:47:00.007-05:00

So, the swelling and infection in my jaw were completely gone by Memorial Day. Yay! I still ate softer foods (mainly), though. It was annoying and boring, but I dealt.

I will admit that I ate potato chips on Monday. It didn't hurt. I didn't want the chips so much as I missed chewing. Weirdness abounds.

Tuesday was my appointment for tooth extraction. I wasn't messing around. I just wanted that sucker pulled. I was calm all morning, totally cool. I had to watch a cautionary video prior to the extraction. It was all about dry sockets and nerve damage. The video was slightly unsettling, but not panic inducing.

I was in the dentist chair for only a few moments when he came to give me the Novocaine. Now. My dentist is not what you would call "gentle" with the 'caine. Last year, post drill & fill, those Novocaine injection sights hurt worse than my tooth. This time, I was prepared for the pain of the injections, but they barely hurt. Well, they hurt but not like last time.

Then I was left alone for 20 minutes. And I started thinking. About that scary video. About the impending pain. About never eating potato chips again. On and on. I got scared and I kept thinking about the impending bad stuff. I was really working myself up. The office was freezing and I had to pee, but they had taken my wheelchair out so that it wouldn't be in anybody's way. I was trapped and scaring myself -- still completely working myself up. It popped into my head that, had I been this upset the day before, I would've called someone from church for a blessing (hi, ridiculous much? save it for something important, moron).

And then I started praying. It sounds ... oh, I don't know ... melodramatic, I suppose. But I started praying. First, I asked if He could just help me calm down. I just kept freaking myself out and I couldn't stop. Then I asked, if it was His will, to protect me from all that bad stuff. And, oh, if it isn't asking too much -- please don't let let it hurt so badly. I just wanted to be able to sleep that night.

Then I heard some of the piped in music. "The Warrior" by Scandal. Next, "Waiting For A Star To Fall" by Boy Meets Girl. Then "Everywhere" by Fleetwood Mac. It was all 80's music! First, museums and stained glass junk food. Now 80's music? Oh, dental office!

And I was distracted. And calm.

Was Fleetwood Mac an answer to my prayer? Doubtful. More likely, I was so worked up that I didn't notice the music. But it was that interval of prayer that accomplished the mental quietness that allowed me to hear and focus on the music. Still.

When the dentist came back and deemed my mouth sufficiently numb, I asked if he had a mouth holder-opener thingy because I didn't want to bite him. He pooh-poohed me and assured me that I would keep my mouth open. I am glad one of us was confident. He then grabbed the drill and I started counting in my head (self distraction technique). I got to "four mississip..", before he said "Going to feel a lot of pressure". It was not a lot, but some. He yanked it quickly (didn't have time to count), had me bite on gauze and was done.

I was like, that's it? I was queasy, but still that was all?

I changed the gauze when I got home and then once more, mostly as a nervous precaution because it didn't bleed much. The Novocaine wore off after an hour or so.

And it didn't hurt at all. Not even achey. I have a little spot by my chin that feels bruised, but nothing else is even tender!

Prayer answered in the affirmative? I can't say. This is my one and only pulled tooth, I have no comparison. Is no pain typical? I don't know, but I am so thankful.

Plans, waysides & ouch

2009-05-20T13:40:00.011-05:00

I had really planned to get my ssss...tuff together in the last couple of weeks. I had plans!

Go ahead and laugh.

I have been having problems, off and on, for about a year with my tooth. Went to my dentist and took care of it. The deep cavity one remained super sensitive to hot and cold and pressure. I called my dentist a dozen times about it. I was always assured some sensitivity was "typical". I think they thought I was exaggerating and I am a weenie when it comes to teeth. So, I decided just to live with it.

I could deal with the temperature sensitivity. The pressure sensitivity was annoying, but I just started chewing on the other side of my mouth. Every so often, my whole jaw would hurt, but I would ignore it.

Then. A few days, ago my tooth went insane. I don't know what happened. One minute, I was fine and the next --

HOLYMOTHERFREAKING@#!$^&*%!!!

Pain. I was in it.

I can't even explain it, but I'll try. If you have ever had a bad cavity and bitten down on it -- that sudden jolt of pain (but not ceasing) and maybe having your mom pull one of your baby teeth too early, what I imagine teething feels like, when you get smacked in the mouth and your lip swells so fast it hurts and your molar has been broken into shards and every one of those is stabbing you in your gums over and over while each one sings Adam Lambert's "Ring of Fire"** continuously. All at once.

I took Percoset. I took Lyrica. I would have taken Morphine. Lord knows what else I would have taken if available. Heroin? I think so, yes.

Finally, I got into see my dentist. The stained glass hamburgers and trilobite fossils did nothing for me. I had to get two sets of x-rays. You know those ones where you have to bite down on the ouchy things? I about died. I held myself together for the first set. When she had to retake them though, I just cried and cried and cried.

When my dentist viewed the x-rays and saw in my mouth, he made a face and said that the nerve in my tooth is dead and I have a massive infection in my lower jaw. In fact, my gums have swollen so much that they are encasing the two back teeth on the lower left side.

Too much information?

He immediately put me on anitbiotics and more Percoset. Let me tell you, those antibiotics are made of awesome. My face/neck/gums are still terribly swollen and it still hurts to swallow, but I feel so much better. Also, I heart Percoset. The doctor is pretty sure the infection did not get into the bone so, as long as all goes well, I should be getting the offending tooth pulled and should be back to normal by the end of next week.

Or, you know, as close to "normal" as I ever get.

** I totally loved Adam, but "Ring of Fire" made me want to kill small woodland creatures.

CRMA

2009-05-17T10:10:00.002-05:00

We went to the "Middle Eastern Family Fun Day" at the Cedar Rapids Museum of Art a few weeks ago.

The auditorium light was wonky, but the dancers were less than authentic anyway.

Downstairs

Carved leather

Hand painted

Kaiser doesn't like to share

2009-05-17T10:00:00.002-05:00

The dog is touching him!

Kirsche had the gall to be the first on a box in a sunny patch. The nerve!

Computer time = rest

2009-05-10T13:19:00.003-05:00

I know I have been bad about posting lately. I am really sick right now, but I'm pretty sure I am on the upswing now. I am hoping to transfer some photos later and will have some mostly photo posts soon. I bought a new camera and 2 new memory cards for it, but my computer won't recognize them. So, I have to put them on the sister's computer and email them to myself.

Happy Mother's Day to all you lovely moms out there!

I thought this was hysterical!

Those things you wish for

2009-04-20T07:18:00.006-05:00

Usually, God's plan is very mysterious and we mere mortals are not privy to the fantastic machinations. There are moments when I stop and realize that whatever is happening probably would not be happening if I didn't have Friedreich's Ataxia or use a wheelchair or something.

For instance, I can look back now and see that, had I not had Friedreich's Ataxia, so much of my life would be different. I would not have had the surgery that kept me from marching in marching band and put in the drumline. I would not have made the friends I still have today. I wouldn't have experienced the heartache, either. But my 32-year-old self is glad it happened when it did, rather than investing further into another level.

You know, it's that whole "things happen for a reason" schtick. Although, in the moment, there doesn't seem to be much planning or logic, let alone an actual reason or purpose.

Which brings me to this blast from the past. Read it for a little background.

Seriously. I'll wait.

Several times, Bob was on the verge of asking me out when Ashley would interfere, like their prom date meant she had a claim on him. The whole situation was made a bit more odd by Bob's brother, Bill. Bill and I were classmates and friends, but he did not want me dating Bob. I don't think he had a crush on me or anything, I just think he thought it would be weird.

Eventually, Ashley and Bob married and had three kids. He got a position in a school system, she was a SAHM and homeschooled the kids. It wasn't that I was jealous ... maybe envious is a better word. I don't think I ever felt anything more than a 24-hour (if that) thing for Bob. But you know, he was nice and really smart (couldn't hold a candle to Bill the super genius, though) and kinda funny. Just a nice guy. And Ashley was a dim and snobby brat. It couldn't have been a weirder match. And, at the time, I was dealing with a very hurtful breakup from a young man who was everything that Bob wasn't. Popular, strikingly good looking, charming ... very attractive (Bob wasn't horrible looking, just not gorgeous).

I have always worked to be "the good girl". I try to be kind and cheerful. Just a nice girl. My reward was heartbreak, while Ashley behaved oppositely and was rewarded with a good guy. And when I found out that she was a SAHM who homeschooled their kids, which is totally what I dreamed of?

Well, cue the "life is so unfair" music.

But. And this is a huge "BUT", a tremendous "BUT"...

A few months ago, she sent out a call for prayers for Bob, which I got via my cousin. I wasn't sure why she wanted prayers, but I gathered it was cancer or cancer-related. Nobody seemed to know and all I got from Bill was a cryptic message to "remember Bob the way he used to be". That sounded ominous and I assumed Bob was soon to shuffle off this mortal coil. I have lost, and nearly lost, several friends in the past few years and the loss of Bob seemed unfathomable.

Things seemed to come to a head just before the weekend, so I googled his name and city. I fully expected to find an obituary.

I did not find an obituary. I won't go into detail, but I was shocked. I am still shocked. I think I might have preferred finding an obituary.

And, it was suddenly clear why I wasn't rewarded with this nice guy. Which, is not to say Ashley was punished or somehow deserves what is happening to her now. She doesn't -- this is my lesson to learn from and I am not saying the sole purpose for this happening was to teach me something, but it has.

Has it ever.

Kiddos

2009-04-04T09:46:00.005-05:00

We've been doing respite for a 26-month-old girl and a 16-month-old boy. The girl is so pretty and the boy is adorable.

Respite is. pretty much, babysitting a child in foster care when you have a license. The kiddos current placement has only been a month, though they've been in care longer.

They love to be held, cuddled and kissed. Their current placement had virtually no information to give us about them. I don't mean detailed background, I mean bedtime routines or even the girl's correct name (remember, they've had these kiddos for a month)! We had them less than 24 hours and it was obvious to us that, at some point, that she has had a blankie and he has had a "binky" (pacifier). They both knew what french fries and macaroni were, but green beans and hot dogs were unknown. Even Cheerios were foreign--what child doesn't know Cheerios?? Their current placement sent them with super sugary cereal for snacks.

I don't eat perfectly healthy. Y'all know I drink pop too much and I love enchiladas and nachos -- the gloppier, the better. We all have our not-so-healthy things here but, by and large, we arevery conscious of what we eat. We try for organic and always have balanced meals. I hate peas, but I will eat them (I know, it's shocking). But you know something is off in their diet when hot dogs and Cheerios are foreign substances and jello is not sweet enough.

But is their language skills that are most upsetting. He says nothing but "dadadada" and she knows fewer words than our dog. That is in comprehension. The girl only says 4 or 5 words and she mostly says "dadadada", too.

It's irritating to realize how much we can help these kiddos if we had more time with them. It's sad to think that these children are indicative of many, if not most, of the children in foster care. It's also irritating to learn that their current placement was called for them when she has 6 children of her own and we were never considered.

But they are so cute! And both are total cuddlebugs! The girl alternates between being scared of Karly and giving the dog kisses. The boy could not care less about the dog, he pays her no nevermind. But he is fascinated by Kaiser and follows Kaiser everywhere. To the utter astonishment of all of the adults living here, the affection seems mutual! The boy is rarely out of Kaiser's sight.

Touché

2009-03-28T19:51:00.003-05:00

This morning ...

This afternoon ...

Stewing

2009-03-20T14:56:00.005-05:00

Our FC license came yesterday. It is almost worse than never getting a license at all. Iowa FC licenses are only good for one year. I think the same is true for most states, but I'm only solid on the Iowa stuff. Our license expires on Oct. 31, 2009.

Did you catch that?

Our license was back dated to November 1, 2008. I guess, on paper, that makes them look slightly less incompetent. That means we have 1 week or so to decide to renew the license, because we have to sign up for more classes.

And we haven't gotten a single call yet.

Also ... here's the thing ... the license was issued and in the computers on Monday morning. Monday evening, I received the email desperately needing emergency placement for three children (remember?), that they ended up separating. I contacted our SW. Had she bothered to check her computer, instead of just blowing me off, she would have seen we were officially licensed and all 3 children would have had a safe bed under the same roof.

Also, had macaroni & cheese and hot dogs for dinner.

I'm just saying.

Spring Sprung Sprang

2009-03-17T18:27:00.006-05:00

I am officially declaring Winter over. I don't care if we get a blizzard that dumps 8 feet of snow on us tomorrow -- as far as I am concerned, it will be a freakish early-Summer flurry.

It got up to 75 today.

Karly watched intently as laundry was hung on the line.

Windows were opened, much to Kaiser's delight and Kirsche's consternation. Kirsche DOES NOT LIKE CHANGE and, although she thought the breezes were snifferific, it was just too scary sit next to the open window. So, she improvised.

Review-ish: Dear Zachary

2009-03-12T12:11:00.007-05:00

Filmmaker Kurt Kuenne's poignant tribute to his murdered childhood friend, Andrew Bagby, tells the story of a child custody battle between the baby's grieving grandparents and Shirley Turner, Bagby's pregnant ex-girlfriend and suspected killer. Initially, Kuenne made this documentary as a memorial for Andrew's loved ones, but it morphs into an emotional legal odyssey when Turner goes free on bail and is allowed to raise her son.

I watched this yesterday. I am still crying. Gut-wrenching, touching, full of grief, infuriating and hopeful.

It is best to know as little as possible about the story before seeing it. Then google the crap out of it and write letters to Canadian judiciary officials, especially the horrifically incompetent Judge Gale Welsh (who doesn't freaking learn)

Yes. There is murder, but not graphically presented. Yes, there is bad language in parts. There is a montage of Andrew cussing in Kurt's movies--the narration makes it humorous: He has to swear! It's for the movie! And, as the trailer shows, there is foul language about the murderer. The words are a culmination of rage and, to be honest, I can't think of anything else to refer to this murderer as. I think "bitch" is a term too good for her and "f***ing bitch" is too nice (and y'all know I don't swear). There is not a word ugly enough to apply and I sincerely hope she rots on a spit in Hell.

I know that is very uncharitable and you're all thinking "Kim!". Seriously, watch this film and then tell me your heart did not ache (and bad words did not form in your mind) for the parents/grandparents of this family. It is available from Netflix and is on Netflix's instant queue. It shows every-so-often on MSNBC.

I knew this would be a touching documentary, but was not prepared for the full scope of events that were to take place. It made me furious when the Canadian justice system turned a blind eye.

BE WARNED: This film will haunt you. I read reviews, wikipedia articles, googled and I still wasn't prepared for the emotional 90 minute roller coaster this film sends me on. If you have children, young or old, this film will hit you even harder. If you have friends that you grew up with, this will hit hard. Just a great film about a tribute to a friend, a tribute to a great set of parents, and the impact one man can have.

Yeah. I am done.

2009-03-10T12:30:00.006-05:00

Well, I am 99.999999% done with foster care. I hate to give up, but I realized that I just don't care anymore. We still aren't licensed (foster/adopt). It's been one entire year this week since we started classes. Everything has expired, most more than once. Every family in our class has their license and had 2 or more placements.

At first, I thought that maybe they were worried about my disability. One, muscular dystrophy is not contagious. Two, **NEWSFLASH** there are people who use wheelchairs AND parent. Three, my friends and relatives trust me with their children (well, except the one who says I'm not a "true" Christian) and my cousin's son is practically feral.

So, we had a homestudy addendum where they asked me all kinds of (mostly) stupid questions. For example:

"What if child falls asleep downstairs and he's too big to carry?" And ... ? What would you do, Little Miss Social Worker?

"What if child wants to play on the floor?" Yeah, gee, what if? Oh! You mean what if they want to play with me on the floor?? I can get in and out of my chair, you know. I even sleep in a real bed!

--And, my favorite--

"What if child crawls behind the couch?" What kind of question is that? Especially considering we have a small loveseat?

"Well, can [I] move the couch?" Lady, please! I realize I have a disability and I have to make allowances for that. I have thought of and planned for (including contingency plans for those plans) "what if?" scenarios that she has never imagined. Up to and including what I would if I were traveling alone, by bus, with an eight-year-old epileptic through Arizona when an alien species of altruistic parasites begins to take control of the minds and bodies of most of the other humans.

Yeah. I know. But seriously, can I move a couch? I am not a weakling but, no, I don't suppose I could single-handedly carry it down a flight of stairs to a moving truck. I CAN, however, bench press your happy little butt.

After that, I wondered if Little Miss Social Worker might mess up or drag out our process in some kind of twisted payback for J's situation. But no, now I just think Iowa DHS is full of morons.

I am on Little Miss Social Worker's mass email list. She uses it to tell us of classes, events and when she is desperate for a foster family or for an emergency placement. I got the following last night:

We have an emergency referral for 3 children, the oldest is age 10, the next is age 3, and the youngest is age 8 Months, she has a skull fracture due to abuse. The three are siblings and [We] would like them all together if possible if not [we] will split the oldest from the two youngest.

* emphasis mine, all identifying marks changed except ages *

We are for ages 12 and under, siblings (I CANNOT STAND IT when they split siblings apart) and emergency placements, 1 crib and three beds, boys or girls and race is relevant. In the rest of our class and the following three (that I know of) classes, there is one family open to "older" children/teens. Every other family is 3 & under and most of them are girls only. The majority are also Caucasian only.

If nobody else, ever, we could have helped those children. At least, kept them together. Not only are they traumatized by abuse and by being taken from their mother, but now they are seperated from each other.

And etcetera

2009-03-06T14:07:00.007-06:00

So. Why Mormon Girls Stay Single. I don't know whether to be deeply offended or terribly amused. Definitely more of the latter.

Okay, yes, I would like to be married. Do I mention it too much here? I can't remember and I am too lazy too check through my archives. But if it happens, it happens. If it doesn't happen here in this life, I have been assured it will happen elsewhere. (I gave my bishop the whole wheelchairs-not-being-guy-magnets shtick and now he thinks I'm weird.)

Yes, I want children. I'm working on the "if it happens, it happens" attitude. Not quite there, but it is a process. In the meantime, I grow increasingly appreciative of my "fake internet" friends who blog about their lives, their husbands and their children.

They're a small vicarious pleasure.

The sister bought boxes and boxes of Girl Scout Cookies. So far, I have been to resist eating cookies by the carton. So far. And not without extreme exertion of my willpower.

But she didn't get plain shortbread. This might be my saving grace. I pop those suckers like an addict craving a fix. I'm liking the "Thanks-a-lot", but (thankfully) they're a bit big to eat in one bite.

Mom bought me some new tennis shoes yesterday. I have some that were fairly recently purchased, but these fit my AFO! My foot surgeries have made my right foot shorter and wider than my left and it is very hard to find shoes that fit. And when you add in that AFO (kind of an ankle brace), it is almost impossible. I have been wearing a pair of all white New Balance tennis shoes for close to 10 years.

A -- I hate them. They are so functional/institutional/remedial looking and they're puffy. I call them my marshmallow shoes.
B -- Yeah. 10 years. One good thing about using a wheelchair: shoes don't wear out hardly ever.

So, my new shoes are Adidas, look like real shoes (not functional/institutional/remedial) and fit with my AFO.

YAY !

Another year

2009-03-03T12:51:00.004-06:00

It was a nice day for me yesterday. Kaiser pretended to like me for a few minutes. The sister made a yummy chicken meal, kind of based on Chicken Marsala -- which I absolutely adore, but have only had twice as I get conflicting WoW advice and, although I think I am okay on it, I decided to relegate the dish to special occasions or extraordinary circumstances.

I don't have a photo of all my new stuff and I hate listing it. It's like bragging. I got some clothes, books, pins and red leather bank beautifully painted an in the shape of an elephant. The sister gave me a pink Nintendo DS. I have no games for it, yet.

My cake appeared lovely:

But, lurking within that pretty pink frosting, were multiple hairs. MULTIPLE. Like more than one. And long. And I am so grossed out even just recounting this. Glory be, I almost got sick. Ugh.

In case you were wondering -- I actually prefer cheesecake, but nobody here likes it. So I go with the kiddie cakes (I originally intended the cake choice to irritate them enough to return to cheesecake. Backfire. Now it's my thing). As I get older, my cakes get younger.

Oddly, I have never had an ELVIS cake. I wonder if I can find a bakery that makes a cheesecake in the shape of the King of Rock & Roll?

Things to ponder.

Til then

2009-02-27T16:42:00.003-06:00

Today was a nice day. Hung out in my room for a while. I mostly picked up and generally putzed about. I have been pondering my bookcase for a while. I had two in my bedroom, but it got too crowded and I needed a desk. So, one bookcase and many books were relegated to the basement. Now, my lone bookcase is being overwhelmed. My books multiply, leading me to believe that these allegedly inanimate objects have a better love life than me.

Which is not a difficult plateau to attain, all things considered.

But I hate to put anything else in the basement. I cannot get down there. The lift is broken and I hate not being able to get to my stuff. Not that I very often need it, but ... *sniff*. Almost all of my ELVIS is down there. I miss my stuff.

Le sigh.

The front room was rearranged. In a more traditional manner. I will post some photos later. I didn't get any taken before the furniture was covered by sheets, once again. A dark cat, a white cat & a dog who sheds like crazy are not compatible with uncovered pretties.

I'll be back Monday with another post. I'll be another year older and not a durn bit wiser.

With feeling

2009-02-24T14:26:00.001-06:00

My sister gave me The Host for Valentine's Day. I finished it in two days. I like the way Stephenie Meyer writes about love. I have issues with the books, like many, but I truly enjoy her take on love. The finality of it, the eternal-ness of it. It could be her LDS getting all up in it, I don't know. In Stephenie Meyer's world -- love is permanent, eternal, not fading.

In Midnight Sun (Meyer's partial draft of Twilight from Edward's point of view), Edward falls in love with Bella and says he felt that love settle into every portion of his body. In The Host, too. Love between Melanie and Jared is powerful and eternal. But the love Wanderer has ... THAT intrigues me. Because it is like a choice -- Melanie's body/mind/self loves, so Wanderer feels the same. But she chooses to love someone else and that seems an act of will more than anything else. Even the words Meyer uses, like "mate" and "partner" seem to reinforce her views. Those terms have different connotations in today's society, especially "partner", but the term in that context really resonates within me.

In contrast to the above, I am really not a lovey dovey, romantic person.

I'm debating what to start reading next. I won't start The Historian yet. It is huge, a lot to read and a little more than I feel like dealing with right now.

Why?

I am doing my sister's online literature course for her. Why? I'm bored, I like to read, I need a more challenging world of academia, I need to get out more ... Any or all of the above.

I finished my History course almost a month early. I think I will only get a "B". Maybe a dread "B+". I freely admit to not working as dilligently as I cold have on this course. I was just tired of core courses, you know. I love History, but there's only so many ways to study US History to 1877. It's pretty similar, not matter how many differently named courses one takes.

That said, I have a big decision to make. I can stay at UIowa for my Museum Studies and Business Administration or I can do Business Administration through Upper Iowa online. Because UIowa doesn't want me to do my own major, Museum Studies is only a cerification or minor. I don't want to switch to major in History, the subject is too broad and the advice I kept getting from people already working in museums was to take as many business courses as possible. I want to stick with Business Administration and I think I am going to go with the online degree, but I am not sure.

I know, I'm a waffler. I waffle on decisions, I have such a hard time with them. Once I make a decision, I am resolute. Until then, though ...

Chalk one more up

2009-02-24T11:29:00.005-06:00

I don't like McDonald's. I don't like what they do to their hamburgers and fries and other food. But that's my thing. They have good restrooms, I will give them that. I have not eaten their in years. A one person boycott is not that significant, I know.

But, geez. I didn't need another reason to boycott them.

Countries

2009-02-20T12:04:00.004-06:00

create your own visited country map

Aruba
Mexico
Bahamas
Puerto Rico
Jamaica
Niederland Antilles
US Virgin Islands
British Virgin Islands
Barbados
Bermuda

And the little tally says “10 countries, that’s 4%”. But all judgmental like. Who is this “World66”? And why is he judging me by my travel experience? Because, seriously? He don’t know me. He ain’t got my story, okay?

States

2009-02-20T12:02:00.004-06:00

create your own personalized map of the USA
As God is my witness. I WILL get to New York!!!!!!!!

Look at Louisiana. All by it's unvisited lonesome. Hee.

Le Gasp!

2009-02-19T12:32:00.001-06:00

OhmygoshOhmygoshOhmygoshOhmygoshOhmygoshOhmygoshOhmygoshOhmygosh

Now I have to pretend to be interesting!

I have to post 10 honest things about me, AND make it interesting. Then I have to Tag 7 other bloggers for the Award as well. So maybe, y'all should be the ones pretending I'm interesting.

1. I've never really wanted to be anything other than a wife and mother, which I've discussed before. But, I'm studying Museum Studies and Business Administration. I really want to work at Thanksgiving Point. And then have it be all Night at the Museum. Except the raptors. Because? Yikes!

2.I love Elvis Presley. We were raised on oldies, so I knew a few songs growing up. I wasn't a crazed fried peanut butter banana sandwich freak then, though.

It began when I was 12 and we were shopping for back to school supplies. I was being a pain, demanding this or that. My mom was thisclose to losing it. We got to the folders section. I refused to have the el cheapo paper folders, insisting on those expensive glossy ones. So my mom grabbed four glossy ones and shoved them at me. "That's it" she said, "take 'em or leave 'em." I looked at them.

Ohmigawd. Elvis? Elvis Presley? The guy's been dead forever. I would be a laughing stock.

At home, we were labeling our supplies and I was making snarky comments with all the venomous 12-year-old sarcasm I possessed. My mom just kept saying what a hunk Elvis had been. Whatever, Mother.

Anyway, Mom handed me the first folder. The picture was from "Aloha from Hawaii." Gah. A fat guy in a white jumpsuit? The horror. Then she handed me the next one. '68 Comeback Special. Hey, he isn't so bad. I guess. Then she hands me a folder with him in that gold lame suit. Ooo, I may be able to handle this whole Elvis thing, after all. The last folder she handed me had Elvis in his Army uniform. HELLO! Yeah, I can totally handle this.

At school, instead of teasing me, kids would ask if I liked Elvis or what song was my favorite. I was asked about Elvis so much, I decided I had better bone up on my "Elvisology." My mom rented Jailhouse Rock for me and---whoa---Elvis was HOT! Hooked from that moment on. For my 13th birthday, my mom bought me an Elvis doll and an Elvis poster. It was slow going on the collecting as I was not old enough to have a job. After I got my first job, my first Elvis purchase was a box of old vinyl albums. 20 in the box, now I have close to 200 (yes, several are duplicates). Now I have everything from dolls to telephones, cds to vinyl and books to newspapers (I have the Memphis papers announcing his death). And, in the midst of the family photos in my bedroom, are my pride and joy--two actual photographs from a Vegas concert.

I still have those folders in my display case.

3.I am extraordinarily gifted at procrastinating. Magii tagged me for this entry 42 years ago.

4. Aside from Hawaii (or some other place equally tropical, equally warm and equally unlikely), I would most like to live in Utah. I haven't explored the entire state, so I don't know where in Utah.

5.I love to cook and bake. Unfortunately, our kitchen isn't exactly wheelchair accessible. It's more hassle to ask someone to get down the flour, then whatever spices, then the measuring cups, then (once it is all together) put the dish in the oven--because I can't physically carry the full dish AND wheel myself. This is also why I love my crockpot -- I can do it, start to finish.

6. I have Friedreich's Ataxia. Most people with it are unable to walk by their mid-teens. I was walking until my 20s--when I blew out my knee. On the one hand, this is awesome, because I was in ballet, gymnastics, marching band and sports. I got to experience it. On the other hand, I know what I am missing. I loved exploring caves and rock climbing. I loved bicycling. I loved dancing most of all and, sometimes, it really sucks not to be able to do it anymore. Most of the time, I'm cool with it.

7. I am a movie cryer. I cry at the ends of (the first two) Home Alone movies, I am sure I will cry at Half Blood Prince. Usually, it's just tears and maybe a few sad "oh" mumblings. But, I am so glad I did not go to see The Notebook in theatres. The Notebook wrecks me. I don't cry -- I sob. Great chest-heaving, throat-scraping, gut-wrenching sobs. Nose running, headache, red eyes, loud, hiccupping sobs. I can control myself somewhat, until the "sundowning" scene and then I am completely incoherent for hours.

8. I love to paint my nails. I tend to favor obnoxious and weird colors. But, right now, my favorite is OPI's Chick Flick Cherry.

9. In that same vein, I have searched many a year for the right shade of red lipstick. I don't often wear makeup, but I really want a red that doesn't make my teeth look yellow or my face look all Night of the Living Dead-ish. And so my search continues...

10. I have vivid, realistic dreams and I dream in color. I have dreamt that my alarm has gone off, I've eaten cereal and am on my way when I've woken up and realized I am horribly late.

Now I need to tag 10 people ... I'm not gonna, though! Because I am a REBEL, baby! Yeah!

Okay, okay. But I am not linking for privacy (also, I am lazy).

1. Wendy
2. Abby (in my sidebar)
3. Clisty (in my sidebar)
4. Jessabel
5. Astra
6. Tarra
7. Adrian R.

Photos

2009-02-08T16:36:00.003-06:00

Kaiser, in his precious little chair with his precious little blankie.

I don't how she breathes.

Kaiser biting Kirsche's ear. (Kirsche: "I told you so.")

Karly has a very strict anti-violence policy. She will aggressively enforce this policy. She jumps and growls at the offending party. She will come on the run to enforce her policy if someone so much as mutters the word "ow".

Hitting? Too violent!
Smacking the table? Too violent!
Clapping? Too violent!
Hugs? Too violent!

Katrina has a painful condition in her wrist and occasionally asks Mom to rub it. Karly did not know what to do this time. Mom was hurting Katrina, but Mom's the boss. She deciided to kiss Katrina's hand & assists with the rubbing.

Trauma!

2009-01-28T15:33:00.003-06:00

Post courtesy of Kirsche

This morning the old one locked me in her bathroom, I couldn’t get out and I cried and cried. Nobody heard me. The scary one was at work, the pushover was at the contraption and the old one was at the smaller contraption. I swear, I’m going to pee on them.

Then I thought to call my big brother. He knows how to open closed doors and the folding doors where the humans keep their their clothes and drawers where they put the delectable catnip mice and the cabinets where they hide (I KNOW) the kitty treats, plus he can turn the lights off and on. He is so awesome and I follow him everywhere, but he just bites my ears.

I called for Kaiser, but all he did was yell back that he heard me. He didn’t even bother getting up out of his chair. His precious little chair with his precious little blankie. I swear, I’m going to pee on it tonight.

Just as I was starting to panic -- my bed/plant is NOT in this bathroom, my jingly balls are NOT in this bathroom, my food bowl is NOT in this bathroom, my water bowl is NOT in this bathroom (ugh, do not go there) and MY GOD!!!! The pushover with my beloved pop tops is NOT in this bathroom -- the old one let me out.

I ran, but she just kept apologizing in that lovey-dovey tone she uses with the dog. Not helping, human. I ran straight to the food room, but did she give me kitty treats? No! After leaving me locked up for who knows how long!

I swear, I’m going to pee on her bed.

Snoozin'

2009-01-16T00:06:00.000-06:00

This is a plant.

This is Kirsche.

This is Kirsche sleeping in a plant.

This is Kirsche slightly disturbed by photos taken of her while she sleeps in a plant.

Much snow, much cold

2009-01-15T13:10:00.002-06:00

I'd apologize for the screen but, look, it was -29 (officially the coldest day in Iowa since records have been kept). And that was the ACTUAL temperature.

The windchill was
negative ohmygodweareallgoingtodiestartburningthefurniture.

So, yeah. I'm okay with the screen

But I'm running out of "K" names

2009-01-12T12:09:00.004-06:00

So, this morning. I fell. Backward, out of my chair and, yes, it is kinda funny. I have handles on the back of my chair, so there was several inches between my back and the floor when I fell. I still hit my head and quite hard. I have a headache, but my shoulders are killing me.

We're still having problems with our foster care licensing. We were just foster (for kids who don't have a TPR (termination of parental rights)) but, last February, began classes to become licensed adoptive parents. The classes for both types were merged under a new system, so everyone was messed up. But we finished the classes in May and oue CW turned in our papers, fingerprints (that we had done before any of our classmates) and our homestudy on June 30.

Yeah.

Sometime in late September, after numerous unanswered phone calls and emails, the CW tells us to redo our fingerprints. We get a story that makes no sense about fingerprint rules.

Lady, the Russian Embassy was okay with our prints! I don't think IOWA will be too stringent.

So we redo the prints. CW says, no problem, license will be beginning of November or December. New Year's comes and goes with nary a peep. I emaileder 4 or 5 times and finally got this gem last Thursday.

Sorry I haven't gotten back to you sooner - I am actually going through my pile up of emails just now. I submitted your packet to DHS [on October 30] I got an email from DHS [the second week of NOVEMBER] wanting clarification on why your mom was on disability. I tried to explain this in the home study in regards to the issues related to retirement, but don't think I was as clear ... In any case, if you can, or if your mom can write this out in an email to me, that would be great - otherwise, I can come by and I can go through the questions with you.

emphasis mine.

First, my mom is not on disability. Period. She is actually on extended leave/partial retirement. Until she is officially retirement age, she cannot fully retire or the employer will not pay for insurance. Which doesn't matter much since her factory is closing and 700-some employees are all completely screwed! But even that doesn't matter so much, because she is a veteran and can get health care and insurance through the VA.

Second, we bouldn't have been asked this, oh I don't know, TWO months ago??? See, I thinks she is a) setting us up for another homestudy and/or b) deliberately sabotaging us in some kind of twisted payback for how she perceived our treatment of J.

I don't know. This is one of those times ... I am angry and sad and confused, everything. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a wife and mom. And then I was diagnosed with Friedreich's Ataxia, so the wife thing was out (because, really, even I don't wan't to deal with it!) but I thought kids might still be a possibility. Then the whole situation with J., which rocked me to the core. To use a very "human" analogy, it was a long time before I could look my Heavenly Father in the eye.

Once I was in the wheelchair full time, I thought about kids again. I can't chase a toddler around, which is when a husband may come in sort of handy. But, as we have discussed, wheelchairs (even shiny red ones) are not guy magnets. Crazy, I know. Then I wondered if it would be fair to a child to have me for a mom. While I am awesome at some things--I taught a Russian speaking child, who had never been to school, English and had him at grade level in less than five months. Because I rock. BUT. I can't teach Johnny to ride a bike or Janie to roller skate and these things are important to children.

I thought, with foster care, I can take care of children, protect and teach them. And, since they wouldn't be completely mine, I couldn't screw them up too bad! But even that possibility is looking more remote every day. Maybe if I didn't have such a heart for children, I wouldn't be so confused. I am just not getting what God is trying to tell me. I know He, in His infinite wisdom, gave me this heart for children. But every avenue to them seems to turn into a dead end, And I turn 32 in less than 7 weeks, so I'm not getting any younger!

I am okay with not getting married, I am fairly certain that ship has sailed. I'm still not ready to give up the idea of children, though.

Maybe I should get another cat.

I swear, this was supposed to be about our frustrating CW. But it went off on a tangent. I am not being all woe is me and tell me how awesome I am and wah wah wah.

Bad whisker day?

2009-01-08T22:18:00.003-06:00

I take a lot of photos. Many subjects, but mostly pets. If I had kids ... but I have pets. Kirsche is pretty ambivalent about all things camera related. Karly hates having her picture taken. Kaiser? LOOOOOOOOVES it.

Close ups. "Green Steel".

He even poses.

Any photo worth taking apparently needs a Kaiser.

But sometimes ... sometimes the glare of the paparazzi is too much.

It cleared up the ear infection, though

2009-01-07T11:23:00.005-06:00

I have mentioned being sick with my liver to several people, who were surprised to hear of it (some weren't) and I thought I should talk about it a little.

I have chronic ear infections. Many times, I don't even realize I have one. I'll be at my doctor's for something unrelated and she'll look and see that I have one. Most of the time the ear infections don't really bother me, either. But, every so often, I get an ear infection so painful that I very nearly wish for death. I am not using hyperbole. And, when I get one of those bad boys, it is only a matter of time before the infection ruptures my eardrum. This has happened more than 6 times since I graduated high school.

So, back in 2003, I had one of the bad ones. My eardrum blew, but I wouldn't to the doctor for a couple of weeks. Katrina finally got me to go and my doctor gave me Zithromax. I took two right away, as per directions. I don't think it was an entire hour later that Katrina told me I was a wee bit jaundiced, but I thought she was just teasing. She wasn’t. In the following week, while still taking the antibiotic, I became seriously jaundiced and exhausted. I wasn’t keeping anything down--not even water. I slept all the time, but I was always tired. I wasn't in pain, I didn't have a fever and I wasn't itchy.

On the advice of my doc, I went to a local ER on a Saturday night and got all kinds of bloodwork done. 0The doctors there first thoughts were that I was having a rare-but-documented side effect called a Toxic Injury from Zithromax. That didn’t seem to pan out.

I was going into liver failure. At one point, my billirubin count was 21.8. In a healthy person, 1 is considered “high”. 30 is the point of brain damage. I can't remember what 'type' of bilirubin count this was, I don't think it was 'total', but I don't remember.

When I finally started to get test results back, I didn’t have this, this, this or that. What was wrong, they had no clue. I did not have AIDS (Yeah, already knew that. But thanks!). I did not have cancer. But I was steadily getting worse and, apparently, everybody but me knew how sick I was. My mom thought I wouldn't make it out of the hospital. I suppose I should've known something was up when my grandparents came to see me, despite the weather and their health. But no. I happily sucked on my popsicle (liquid hospital diets are the work of the devil) and watched Golden Girls reruns.

4 days into my stay, I underwent a liver biopsy. Those samples were sent to the U of Iowa’s liver disease guru. He didn’t know what was wrong. He thought it might be a toxic injury from Zithromax or it could be an Auto-Immune disease, where my body just turned on my liver. I showed signs of both.

Two days later, Friday morning, the resident came to talk to me. My liver was failing and they weren't sure why. The next day, I would be transferred to the University of Iowa Hospital for a work-up and to be placed on the transplant list, but first they would try a last ditch Hail Mary. They decided that I would be put on the steroid Prednisone. If it was Auto-Immune, I should show immediate improvement. If it was toxic injury, the Prednisone shouldn’t have much effect.

I showed immediate, drastic improvement.

What I thought that meant was that I had an Auto-Immune Liver Disease.

I was on some insanely high doses of Prednisone (hello, weight gain) and an anti-rejection med called Imuran for months. Then another blood test and guess what?

I did NOT have Auto-Immune Liver Disease. I DID have a Toxic Injury from the Zithromax. It's a fancy way of saying "allergic reaction". Turns out I am one of those rare people who has a hyper-allergy to this antibiotic. Rarer still, I am someone whose Toxic Injury from Zithromax mainifests itself as Auto-Immune liver disease.

So, there's the story. And here are some photos.

These were taken 5 days into my stay.

Blood draws 4 times a day kinda suck. And that is one of the most uncomfortable iv spots ever. In the next photo, I wanted to show how jaundiced/yellow I was. My fingernails were yellow, my eyes were yellow, my toenails were yellow, my gums were yellow. I wasn't sure if the camera flash would distort or not pick up the jaundice, so I held up a white towel for contrast. As you can see, I needn't have bothered.

My eyes stayed varying shades and amounts of yellow for almost 2 years.

Focus? I don't need no stinking focus!

2009-01-04T04:06:00.009-06:00

I started cleaning my closet as part of my resolution to get, and stay, organized.

Commence laughter. Go ahead, I'll wait. I know, it was the "stay organized", wasn't it?

I was taking clothes out and trying to put them in a somewhat recognizable order. Seasonal, likes, loves, etc. I didn't realize before, but I must have 15 or 20 skirts. I can count on one hand the number of times I wore skirts or dess from the time I was 14 until the last few years. Only for choir concerts.

Yeah, I was in choir. Can't carry a tune with both hands and a bucket, but I was in choir. See?

Mom took this photo. She made stop in the middle of doing my hair. Look at how short I am! That doorknob ... that door is standard ... I'm like an inch away from making cookies in a tree! Believe it or not, I am 16 in that photo.

Anyway. I should have taken more befores and afters. Except that I should be embarrassed by the sheer amount of clothing that I own. Okay, here's a before.

Normally, my clothes are not strewn about the floor. I had to back up to take the photo. You can see the dress I got in Mexico.

ETA: You totally can NOT see it in this photo. But I don't actually care about continuity. That is all.

Check out those tan lines! I think I wore that dress one time after that, in 15 years or so, and I am never getting rid of it.

By the by, that was pre-wheelchair by a substantial margin. In fact, a couple of years later, we went on a cruise to the Virgin Islands. At dinner one night, the wait staff did a conga through the dining room. I got up and joined them.

Oh, yes I did.

The fellow in front of me, turned to the camera, was named Supar ("super") and the guy behind me was Mario. I found it amusing.

This started out about my closet and merrily spun off into conga dancing vacations. I don't suppose anybody is very shocked. A few years ago, my friend, Javier was video taping and he was actually filming another friend and just happened to catch me in mid-crazy-soliloquy. I went from Meg Ryan to Chihuahuas to Taco Bell to Eminem to puppets and Sesame Street then to violent rampages and calculators. I swear, it made sense in context. Okay. Probably not. But, if you listened closely, you could see how it all tied in together. If you listened closely.

And, since this entry has no rhyme or reason, I am a museum geek. I love museums. Visiting them, volunteering for them, reading and learning about them. That's what I'm going to school for. My pie-in-the-sky dream job would be at Thanksgiving Point's Museum of Ancient Life in Lehi, Utah. I mean, COME ON!! Dinosnorzzz?? How fantastic!!

And the African American Museum is re-opening in 12 days. This blows my mind and humbles me. I was fiercely proud of this museum before the flood, and I am staggeringly proud of them now.

Also,Night At the Museum 2 comes out in May. The U of Iowa's Pentacrest Museums had so much *successful* fun doing Night At the Museum tie-ins for Halloween in 2007. The kids, of course, LOVED the Easter Island Head ("Dumb dumb, me want gum gum."). It looks like Abraham Lincoln might the kid favorite this time ("Blah blah blah ... I never lie!").

Just going on record: I love Muse. Until recently, I was not aware that the group had served as inspiration for a certain, popular author. When I saw the movie (which? kinda meh) and heard the song played during the baseball game, I was all "Yay! Muse!" But then I was all "Here we go again." I am not one of those people who turns on their bands once they're mainstream or strike radio super popularity (however briefly). Seriously, Decemberunderground by AFI is one of my favorite albums by them, Keep Fishin' by Weezer is a favorite, if for no other reason than Muppets.

BUT.

I have been a huge fan of the Plain White T's for years. In fact, I pimped them out in my first blog from day one. See that date? 2001. Then came "Hey There, Delilah". Now. I did not, and do not, hate this song. Pretty much every time it came on the radio (approximately every 3.8 seconds), I would say "Them's my boys." Then it got way overplayed, I was called a poser and accused of bandwagon jumping for wearing a PWTs t-shirt and the teenies got all defensive and started saying they have liked PWTs from the beginning. No, you didn't. Because almost nobody did. Because you think "Stop" was their first album. Because it wasn't. Because their first album sold 3000 (coughcoughcough) copies, which means that if you take away all the copies to friends and family, you are left with about 5. And I purchased and own TWO of them. So there.

I am almost 32. You would think I would be more mature than to go all off about a freaking band in my blog.

You, obviously, would be wrong.

Again, for the record: Muse songs I heart (in advance of any possible movie soundtracks) ... "Starlight", "Hysteria" and "Unintended". I do like "Supermassive Black Hole", but so does everyone now.

ETA: I just realized that I have no closet "after" photos.

Bye Bye Holidays

2008-12-28T11:13:00.007-06:00

I would like to say how crazy busy we have been. But we haven't been busy. After my grandparents died, our little family just kind of splintered into different groups. Which, I suppose, is to be expected. My cousins have children and/or spouses and the rest of the more extended family live out of state.

On one hand, it is a lot less work. On the other, it is kind of lonely.

Some of them did come over. It seemed half-hearted, though. Like they might as well come over because they have nothing else to do and there's nothing good on tv. And they brought pea salad. PEA salad! Merry Gagmas, Kim, here are some peas. In warm mayonnaise.

I did lots of baking this year. Most of the cookies ended up tasting kind of funny. They were okay--just not what we are used to. I used butter flavored Crisco and I think that was the issue. The sugar cookies were perfect, though. I have a KitchenAid stand mixer, but used Mom's. Ugh. That mixer is wimpy.

Idid not get any books this year. First time ever and ... wait, I'm lying! My godmother gave me a pop-up tour of Graceland. It is cool, but I am a little afraid to read through it. I might rip it!

My mom gave me a jukebox. Every year, around January 8th (birth) and August 16th (death), various networks do ELVIS themed programming. For instance, this coming January 8th, TCM will be running an ELVIS movie marathon. The shopping channels always do an hour of programming and I have bought some items from them before. Last August, I had to tivo it for whatever reason. I pretty much fast-forwarded through the hour, because I already had the item or I wasn't interested in the item. I was very interested in a table top, old-fashioned electronic jukebox.

It plays all ELVIS (100+ songs) and you flip through the songs and hit, for instance, "J 8" for your song selection. It is mp3s (technically, I can put my ipod on it)--not records, but every time it switches songs it makes the old-timey record sounds -- the whirring of loading a record and the crackling sound of a needle landing on the record.

Katrina must have gotten tired of my book whining, because she just gave me a gift certificate to Half-Priced Books. I love Half-Priced Books. But they make me poor, I am compelled to spend the gross national product of a small third world country in there. With Katrina's help (or threats of physical violence, whatever), I was able to leave after spending less than $20!

I KNOW! It's a Festivus miracle!!

I ended up getting The Thirteenth Tale, The Stolen Child and The Historian.

I had a layout ready for when I took down the Christmas one, but I ended up putting up this rather generic, green Blogspot layout. I'm okay with generic for a while.

Blue Christmas Tuesday #4

2008-12-23T01:09:00.004-06:00

Because I SAID SO, that's why.

This was from the 68 Comeback Special. He was 33.

Yum.

Stymied

2008-12-22T15:23:00.003-06:00

I did it again.

I made Katrina a list of books I wanted her to get for me at our public library. I miss our library so much. I love books. I love to read. I love to learn. That "Thermopylae" book over in the side bar is done and has been for a while.

It is no exaggeration to say we probably have over 5000 books in our home. Books are almost sacred here. Items of great purpose to be treated with reverence.

It, quite literally, pains me to realize I am out of new material. I have read everything here (aside from textbooks). I have lists of books I think I want to read. I can't justify purchasing them when it is so hard to categorize what I might like.

I asked for Stephenie Meyer's The Host this year. She wrote the "Twilight" series that everyone is abuzz over. I can't decide if I like the way she writes, the characters and the magical/mythical aspects or if it is just a pleasing combination that happened to converge within four books. I enjoyed The Secret Life of Bees and The Mermaid Chair by Sue Monk Kidd, but I haven't liked anything else by her. I LOVED The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, The Eight by Katherine Neville, and The Rule of Four by Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason. I was disappointed in their other works, though. I enjoyd bible fiction, prophecy and history (Left Behind, Zipporah), but I have momentarily reached my saturation level for those.

It's awfully petty of me to feel so lost without a stupid library and I know it. I mean, people lost their homes and livelihoods in that flood. Some people never even had a library to lose.

*****

Hmm ... I seem to have forgotten to track my Christmas songs.

A couple of past entries, from my old journals (feel free to nose around)

December 24, 2004

December 26, 2003

Blue Christmas Tuesday #3

2008-12-16T12:57:00.000-06:00

Enough. I really did not intend to sound all "Pity Party, table for 1". I see that it came out that way, though.

*****

I think we've all seen videos of Christmas house lights, timed with a Trans-Siberian Orchestra tune, haven't we?

Regardless, this is infinitely superior:

Is it sacreligious that my favorite part is the Nativity doing the back up "woos"?

I gotta think Jesus would side with me on this one.

I will be done by Thursday.

2008-12-09T11:34:00.001-06:00

Why is that the closer a due date draws, the more I procrastinate?

I am a zen master of procrastination. You can practice all you like, but you will never hold a candle to my procrastination. It is a gift. For instance, my Anthropology class ends on Thursday. I still have to read one article (which is sitting open in my taskbar, but it's a no go thus far), write a short essay on the article and take two big ol' exams.

I can't seem to make myself do them.

What's worse is that this class (and all assignments) are online. My procrastination has taken on a life of it's own. All I have to do is click a link and ... did I look at fabric on eBay?

I just stopped and took a History quiz. I got 9 of 10 points. I have never opened the book. This is a major part of my procrastination issues. I hold off reading the chapter or doing the homework or anything school-related. I wait until the last possible minute to take the test and ... *BAM* ... 9/10 or "A" or similar. I am actually being rewarded for my procrastination!

I will be done by Thursday.
I will be done by Thursday.
I will be done by Thursday.

Blue Christmas Tuesday #2

2008-12-09T01:25:00.003-06:00

I invite you to grab a mug of hot cocoa and bask in the delightfulness of a Christmas spent with ELVIS.

I knew it would happen.

2008-12-04T16:37:00.002-06:00

My cats would eventually eclipse my very existence. But so soon?

All my kitties have become LOLcats! Tinker, Kaiser, Kirsche (or “Kitty” as she prefers)--even Karly got in on the action.

Bad Thoughts Rising

2008-12-02T22:43:00.003-06:00

I am still working on the second Black Friday post. I have a massive amount of reading to do for Anthropology. I spent this weekend writing an Ethics paper. Guess what? I DON'T EVEN TAKE ETHICS!

A certain sibling does.

I spent all day trying to find and gather information for a scouting report for a basketball theory class. The resulting paper was 7 pages of half-assery and 5 of those 7 were pasted and copied directly from uncredited sources. I have PTSD visions of Mr. Nastylittletrollman and his plagiarism accusation morphing into the basketball theory teacher. So, I guess I will be up all night rewriting this paper that is due tomorrow. Guess what? I DON'T EVEN TAKE BASKETBALL THEORY!

A certain sibling does.