It's not just for Scrappers

In honor of Black Friday, and all the crazy people that will be Christmas shopping in the middle of the night on Friday, I've got a fantastic deal for you.

This deal, let's you stay home in your fuzzy slippers, and not fight the crowds for the most amazing deals on Christmas presents.

In fact this deal let's you make your own presents. You can be frugal and fantastic all at the same time.

I'll admit, I'm not a scrapbook fan. Not at all. I don't see what they hype is. I got a scrapbook that came with papers and everything that you need to make it like 6 years ago. It's still in the package.

But. I'm in love with this software by My Memories. See, since I own my own Mary Kay and Scentsy businesses, I can create these totally awesome fliers.

Or, let's assume that I could actually put together a scrap book. Or even if I didn't want to go that route, how about a Christmas Card.

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You can do so much more with this software than just scrapbooks. Want to make a fancy picture calendar? Done. Want to make a cool family reunion slide show complete with music? Done. There are tons of embellishments, you can even design your own pages, change the layouts, whatever you want to do.

Plus, as something that I like, especially considering that I'm primarily using this software to create fliers and stuff for Mary Kay and Scentsy, I love that it's got more options than I know what to do with. It's a little overwhelming at first, but by the time I made these two pages, I had learned my way around.

So, because I love you, and because you guys need something easy and fun to better capture the upcoming holidays, I'm giving away your very own. Very FREE version of the My Memories software.

Here's what you can do to enter.
1. Comment on the blog with a) what you will use the software for AND b) the name of one of your favorite kits available at My Memories website.
2. You can also tag me on twitter, and spread the joy there by tweeting about the giveaway.

You may enter one comment per person and you may tweet as well, so each person can be entered into the drawing twice!

The giveaway will close at 11:59pm central time on Sunday. The winner will be announced on Monday, and you will have 1 week to contact me to redeem your code for your free download!

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you who will be celebrating tomorrow! And good luck!

Gertie Goes to Heaven

Today is another sad day around here. Gertie went to the pathologist on Monday.

Yep, you read that right. The gallbladder was evicted on Monday.

I feel fantastic. That pain in my side that I've lived with every waking moment since September. Finally gone. Gertie was a sick little puppy. Highly irritated and inflamed, and I would imagine a few more months and the words ruptured would have been included in the picture. It was bad folks.

Thankfully, the right doctor gets the job done. Now, I'm working on getting back up and running. Here's the rundown.

Saturday I had an appointment with the gastro that I had been referred too. I was thankful that my appointment had been moved up, and that this doctor does random Saturday clinics, so that I could get in earlier. So we sat in the waiting room, I studied for a business law test, and Brad played on my Kindle. We got back to the room, and started going over everything with the doctor. He mashes around on my belly, tells me he's quite sure it's the gallbladder, and that they can admit me. Huh?

I've spent 2 months with several different doctors and 5 minutes with this guy, and he's going to poke me in the hospital, do a scope because I'd been taking unbelievable amounts of Advil so that I could function through the pain. He was concerned that I might have an ulcer on top of everything else. Thankfully my stomach was fine. So they make arrangements to get me on a list to get my gallbladder out on Monday.

They came in late Saturday night to get some blood for lab work, and couldn't find a vein. I'm not typically a hard person to get blood from, but after 2 months of not eating right, not drinking enough, I was severely dehydrated. I had thought I was bad, simply because of the headaches I was getting, but I couldn't get any other doctor's to voice the same concerns that I had.

Sunday I laid in a bed, and tried to take naps, mostly because they had kept waking me up every 90 minutes the prior night. So Monday morning at 5am they came in to get me to take a shower, and put on a beautiful hospital gown. I'd been wearing my own pj's, because let's face it, those hospital gowns only cover part of the parts, and I prefer all my parts to be covered. We were on the list for about 1:30 surgery time.

John's sweet cousin came about 8 and sat with us until they wheeled me to the OR, and then sat with Brad while I was in surgery. Her presence probably kept some of my nerves at bay, because when they came to get me, I wasn't nervous, just a slight surreal feeling. I think part of me still believed that I'd wake up and be in pain, and nothing would have changed.

Now, here's where it gets dicey. They gave me something to help me relax, and then John kissed me, and told me he loved me, then they wheeled me to the OR. I remember getting in, and climbing on a table, and not much after that. Which is disappointing, I'd have liked to have looked around and checked things out, but I was unconscious before I had a chance to do much.

The next thing I remember is waking up in recovery with some serious pain, which they gave me a shot of the good drugs for. Then my mouth and throat were so dry from the tube that I asked for some ice chips. They pretty much gave me ice, and then sometime later, they told me they were moving me back to my room. I remember John, and his cousin standing their, and I remember seeing my father-in-law and sister-in-law standing outside my room. Then I remember them letting me pee, because they were pushing some serious fluids. They got me in bed, then started checking my vitals, and I suddenly remember having the urge to throw up, and I did, twice. But they said that with all my innards confused by the lack of the gallbladder, that it wasn't surprising, and it wasn't much. I felt really groggy, sore, and like most of Monday is a blur.

They let me come home Tuesday morning, around 11, and part of Tuesday is still foggy. I remember coming home. I remember spilling a glass of water in the floor, and I remember eating dinner. But not much in between.

Yesterday was better, and today was even better. The soreness is starting to get more bearable, I've cut way, way back on the pain med's, and when I woke up this morning I felt good. I felt good for the first time in almost 2.5 months. No nausea, no pain, no headaches. Just like I'd had a good night's sleep.

Of course, after a couple of hours up and moving around, that all changed. I'm still worn out. I know that it will take me some time to build my strength back up, and that even though I only have a few incisions, that this was a major surgery and ordeal for my body to get over. Especially since it had been going on for so long. I know that the next few weeks and months are going to be rough until I rebuild some of my strength. But I'm just so thankful to be feeling better that I'll take the need for lots of naps. I think I've slept more today than I've been awake.

Right now, I'm just thankful to not feel Gertie stabbing me constantly. So, I won't complain about the naps, and the 2 week vacation from school, and the limited activities after that. I'll be thankful that Gertie won't be around at Christmas and that I won't have to create a DIY website for organ removal, because let's face it, another few months, and I'd have volunteered for the test dummy.

When Words Are Not Enough

I wish I could tell you how many times in the last few months I've picked up my cell phone to send a text message to my friend Andrea.

Andrea was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer earlier this year, and amazingly so, our friendship has grown to new depths because of some odd conversations that we've had along the way. Conversations about our spouses, mutual friends, and several oddities that we have discovered we share. Apparently there are other people in the world who won't drink milk after it has been contaminated by cereal.

A couple of months ago, Andrea faced a ruptured colon, several days in ICU, several more surgeries, and more complications. She's had to make choices regarding her quality of life that I can't even begin to fathom, and what's worse, she has to live with those choices. Which is usually harder than making the stupid decision. Especially if your me, and over analyze, over think, and worry about the how's and the what if's and the unfairness of it all.

Yet, in the last few months, thanks to her illness and lack of desire to deal with people, and my subsequent health issues, college kicking my butt, and my own crazies (that have absolutely nothing to do with her situation, just me being paranoid that I've said or done something wrong), have caused our friendship to be less...involved.

Which I don't like. But at the same time, I understand. She faces choices and fights on a daily basis that I hope I don't ever have to face. She's got 2 babies that she's trying to raise, well 3 if you count her husband. She's got other people showing up at her door, showering her with love and strength to help her find the will to keep fighting and to keep moving forward on the days that she just doesn't want to get out of bed. She needs that. Her family needs that.

I miss those text messages with Andrea, and I find myself picking up the phone, and staring at a blinking cursor, because me, the girl who always has something to say, even it's wrong, can't find the words. I can't seem to tell her that I've missed our double dates. I've missed being able to text her when I've had a particularly sucky day, or a funny moment that I just wanted to share with someone who's first language is also sarcasm. I've missed her. I've missed her sweet kids, and thanks to my husband being on a hunting lease with her husband, I don't really miss him, near as much, anyway.

Yet, I find myself terrified of saying the wrong thing. Even though, I'm quite sure, that we've been on the same brain wave a lot lately. Be sick and in constant pain for 2 months, you'd be amazed at the things you think about.

As school keeps going and the pressure keeps building, and I keep adding stuff to my to do list, I keep realizing how truly important those things that we often abuse, and take for granted really our. Like our health, our spouses, our children, our friends. You don't realize what a vital part of your existence they are, until their existence is threatened.

As my doctor's appointment approaches on Saturday, the fear of the worst wants to kick in. What if it's not something easy like a weird food allergy? What if it's something that I'm not prepared for? What if I have to quit fighting for good grades, and fight for my life instead? What if.....

It's mind numbing, and I find those 'what-if's' sneaking in during the quite moments of my day. I keep trying to tell her to shut up. I keep hoping that it's something simple. I hope that it's easy. I hope that it doesn't screw up my life too much. Then, I think about Andrea. She had all those hopes too. She had all those dreams too. Sure, her's might not have involved college, being a world renowned chef, having a cooking blog that makes me rich and famous, losing a million pounds, and being a Victoria's Secret model at 40, but she had them. As I've sat in class rooms this week, and looked around, it's hard to imagine giving up on that. It's hard to imagine any of it. Cancer and serious illness were supposed to be things we had to deal with when we got old. They were supposed to happen to other people, to other families. Not to us. Not to 30 years old. Not to 18 year olds. And certainly not to an innocent child.

Unfortunately, life doesn't always work the way that we plan. God's plan unfolds in there, and we are supposed to make the best of it. We are supposed to find the blessing. We are supposed to be the light to someone else's darkness. We aren't supposed to be the darkness, searching for a light.

I can only hope. I can only have faith. I can only hope that this is where my plans and God's plans are the same, or at least in the general vicinity of each other. I know this, the last few years, I've had a hard time coming up with something other than the usual "family, friends" thankful list. This year, I've discovered that I don't have to do a countdown to Thanksgiving on Facebook with the rest of my friends and family about what they are thankful for, simply because I've spent the last 2 months, finding it.

~She is clothed with strength and dignity; and she laughs at the days to come. Proverbs 31:25

~Would you dare, would you dare to believe, that you still have a reason to sing? 'Cause the pain that you've been feeling, it can't compare to the joy that's coming. So hold on, you gotta wait for the light, press on and just fight the good fight. 'Cause the pain that you've been feeling, it's just the dark, before the morning. -Josh Wilson's Before the Morning

....In sickness and in health

Well, it's true. I've spent the past month testing out those vows.

About 2 weeks before my birthday (roughly the first of September), I had a few days where I just didn't feel that great. But, school had just started back up, and there was lots of pressure being put on me for this semester, and I just blew it off as stress.

Fast forward to the Wednesday before my birthday. Enter nausea and general feelings of ickiness. Really?!? I'm going to be sick on my birthday. Seriously? So, I just tried not to hurl. Then Sunday. Oh Sunday. Sunday, September 23rd, will go down in history as the first day, that I would have gladly let someone perform weird science experiments on me to quickly end the pain.

Fast forward to the afternoon trip to the ER. They "thought" (you'll understand the quotes by the end) it was my gallbladder. Sent me off to do a CT scan, but I refused pain meds, because let's face it I had two tests I was trying to study for. I didn't have time for narcotics. So, CT scan showed my gallbladder to be okay. Well, at least non-life threatening. So, they gave me some drugs for nausea and pain and sent me home to study.

Spent the week thinking that I was going to die. Luckily I had a doctor's appointment on Wednesday. The "doctor" (you'll understand these quotes later too), and I'll use that term here loosely, said that some of my symptoms didn't match, but the pain was consistent with gallbladder, so "against her better judgment" she would send me for an ultrasound, because she would hate to be wrong. So on Friday, I had an ultrasound done to check the gallbladder out. According to the results, there were no stones, but the pain was also better than it had been earlier in the week. So, the "doctor" informs me to just enjoy the weight loss, and that not to be worried that I can't eat, can't drink, and have fairly decent pain, and she would see me again in a few weeks. Hopefully it would work itself out. Nice.

So, after the big time brush off, and after being told repeatedly, that "it was all in my head". I began to believe it. I figured, okay, maybe it's nothing. Maybe the older I get, the lower my pain tolerance has gotten. Maybe it's just a muscle being spazzy. Maybe, maybe, maybe. So I gave up. I thought that everything would eventually (probably about the same time I graduated) work itself out.

Then, about 2.5 weeks ago, I had a day of pain, nausea and it was a general day full of suck. So, I found a new doctor, hoping that this one would show some concern and not take the "wait and see" approach. So, I went. She thought, gallbladder. So she sent me for a HIDA scan. Which, was the longest 2.5 hours of my life. Take a nap, they tell me. Sure, because I've always wanted to take a nap, laying on a 2x4 with a pillow that makes paper look fluffy, in a room that apparently doubles as a meat locker on the weekends. Sure. I'll get right on that. I can't lay on my back because of the pain, so that was just a great, relaxing moment where I wanted to take a nap. Right.

So, my gallbladder, whom I have named Gertie played nice. Even after I barfed on the technician because she told me I had to chug an 8oz can of Ensure. Have you had Ensure? It's the nectar of the devil. It's awful, it has a weird after taste, it smells, it's thick. (Burp) Sorry, apparently the memory of the stuff is enough to get my stomach rolling again. So, I drink. I lay down, I tell them I'm going to vomit. I was told to breathe. Well, after the techs catty responses that I would be fine, I hurled, all over her brand new Nike's. They were cute. Not so much after that. However, the next tech, thankfully believed me when I told her that I couldn't drink all of that and not hurl again. So consequently, she let me drink half. Gertie, smiled for the camera.

So that's where I am today. Still have pain. Still have nausea. Still have some other weird, and rather gross side effects that I will spare you from. You can thank me now.

I have an appointment with a gastro November 20th. Yep, I typed that right. It's the earliest that I can get into see the doctor I wanted, or any doctor in my network for that matter. So I wait. And I hope that I don't hurl on a customer, a professor, or a boss. That can't help my grade or my job.

There are tons of things that it could be, and I would love to try a gluten free diet, and no dairy and to stand on my head when the moon is in the 4th house of the rising dog's, mother's, brother's, cousin's, friends house. But, alas, I have homework to do. I'd say I have laundry and cleaning, but I can only manage a few minutes before the pain takes my breath away and I have to take a break. So to say that my grades, my house, and my desk are a disaster, is an understatement. I don't think that a nuclear blast would cause as much destruction as this - whatever this is, has caused.

Thankfully, I have had a husband, who has stepped up to the plate. He's done laundry, cleaned, cooked, wrapped presents, and taken care of me. I'm quite appreciative for, because let's face it, there have been days where, I've googled "at home organ removal" out of desperation for some relief from the symptoms, that are making me crazy.

Which I find ironic. The doctor's think I'm crazy and everything is all in my head, yet, the actual symptoms are making me crazy.

As much as I'm glad that John is an amazing guy, and that he loves me enough to put up with my whiny, sick self for the amount of time that he has. He's given me pretty flowers, and brought me lunch, and gone out of his way to make this experience less...sucky.

I know the posts are sporadic while school is sucking up all my time, but I don't even want to just click publish on some that I have already written, because my heart's not in anything that I do these days. I'm in survival mode. I'm trying to keep my head above water with school, which is hard to do when you don't want to study because you feel so horrible, or you actually do study, but can't remember what you just spent the last 2 hours reading because you just want the pain to stop. I had made some commitments to events and other things this semester for Scentsy and other things, that I just don't care if I do or not. There are days where getting out of bed is an accomplishment. Then again there are days when it's just the pain, and I can manage to kick some butt and take some names, but when every.single. thing that you eat or drink makes you wonder what you were thinking about when you decided you had to eat or drink because you just want to curl up in a ball in a corner and not move so you don't hurl on someone, it gets hard. It takes a beating on your brain, on your heart, and after 1.5 months of the same stuff, your soul. Thankfully, I've had a better understanding of a friends journey with a cancer diagnosis this year, and I have a new level of respect for her after all of this.

I'm hanging on. Some days with a good, solid grip, and other days, well, I'm quite sure that my whining motivates those around me to chop on the branch I'm hanging on to. I'm not patient, and I want answers yesterday, so for those that follow me on twitter, and on this blog, I just want to say thanks for the love, prayers, jokes, and funny comments that you have sent my way. I'm quite sure that you are part of the group that's keeping me sane. Hopefully, this is an easy fix, whatever it is. I'm trying to find the blessing in this whole thing, but when your grades suck, and you feel bad, and you would rather lay in bed than go shopping for new clothes in smaller sizes, it's hard to find the blessing in anything. Although, I'll admit the weight loss is a nice fringe benefit, I can kiss that lovely number I had seen on my scale for 5.8 months goodbye, but I'd have rather kept the pounds and felt good, than this.

So, when I whine on Twitter, Facebook, or this blog, I'd like to ask you to do me a favor. Tell me to quite my whining and do some freaking homework. I might think your a jerk, but my GPA will thank you.

Ode to Bob

It's been a hard few days at our house. Our beloved friend, Bob, has passed away. We are all so saddened by this loss, and during his brief eulogy there were many tears shed by all.

Let's now take a moment of silence in honor of Bob.

::Silence, in which there is the faint sound of angels singing and birds chirping::

Let me tell you a little about Bob.

He came into our lives purely by accident. See, John had decided that he wanted a fish in his office at work. So after a trip to SmartPets, he was the proud owner of a pretty Beta fish. After a few days, and John's enjoyment of the fish at work, he declared that I should have one at my office too. However, since I wasn't there as much as I had been, thanks to school, I didn't know that the little guy would survive. Besides, I thought it cruel to feed him on Friday, and let him starve until Monday. So John talked me into getting a fish for my office that would live at home. He would clean the tank, and feed him and love him and call him...George (name that cartoon!).

So George came home. Everyone was happy. Except the longer that George was with us, we realized that he was...special. And I'm not talking about having a super cool talent, or a neat trick, or that he could swim faster than the speed of a speed boat. No, George was...well, there's no easy way to say this. George, was a dork fish. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, not the brightest crayon in the box, a few fries short of a happy meal. I'm sure you get the idea.

George preferred to...well bottom feed. He liked to float around and watch his fishy dinner flakes float gracefully through the clear water, and land on the beautiful neon gravel at the bottom of his tank. Then later, when he was hungry, he would turn himself in a fish with an incredible amount of buoyancy, and...bob for food. So, it was apparent that George had been misnamed, and well, from that day forward, he became Bob.

You should have known this was coming.

Bob the Magnificent

 Amazingly so, Bob had been a part of our family for the better part of 2ish years.


We had Bob, sitting on this self for about 5 weeks, when the dog, finally discovered something was up there.

Friend or Snack?

Bob, like I mentioned before was...special. He was fondly referred to as a dork fish. Bob's not only speciality was bottom feeding, but Bob, had an imaginary friend. I was doing some laundry one day, and walked by Bob's tank, and as Beta's are prone to do, he was "fighting". Fighting is actually good for a Beta, because it helps to keep their colors bright and the fish in good health. So it's often a good idea to have 2, and place their tanks close together and allow them to fight for a few hours a week to keep them healthy. We would place a shiny pan or a mirror up so Bob would have this opportunity.

Love at first bite, err sight.

Well one afternoon, I was changing out the laundry, and Bob suddenly woke up from his mid-afternoon slumber and starting fighting with...nothing. The cabinet was empty, the dishes put away, and Bob was just going to town. About that time, John called, and I told him, as a joke that Bob, had an imaginary friend. Thanks to the question of what was his name (John should know that I can think on my feet) Stan, the imaginary friend, was born.

The first part of September (yes, I know I'm a month late), we came home to discover that some time between the time I went to bed the night before and that afternoon, Bob had taken his final swim. We knew that the time was coming, and frankly, because John had gone through 4 fish at work (2 of which I'm quite sure committed suicide because his office was so cold) that we knew that Bob wasn't going to be around forever, and frankly, we were surprised he had made it this long. Yet, amazingly so we were saddened by the loss of our finned friend.

I hadn't really planned on getting another fish, with school, work, homework, Scentsy, blogging, and trying to have a life that didn't revolve around school and homework, it wasn't a high priority. But John and I talked each other into it. So off to SmartPet's we went.

Meet...Stan.

Stan, the imaginary friend.

 



Yes, I'm aware that they make hospitals with padded walls for people just like me.

I think that we should rename him to Speedy Gonzales (name that cartoon!) because the fish never, ever stops moving. This was the best picture I got, because he wouldn't be still long enough for me to take it.

Faster than a speeding speed boat.

 

He's a pretty blueish greenish color. With a hint of purple. He's constantly moving, and he always fights. Me, a pan, air. Doesn't matter. I'll be surprised if he doesn't have a heart attack between now and Christmas. However, at first I was leery that Stan was his name. So I've patiently been waiting for his personality to come out, and I've discovered that Stan's name is actually very fitting. See, I had often though that the imaginary Stan often pissed off Bob. Bob would swim around in circles looking pissed off, like Stan had ran over, tapped him on the shoulder, woke him up from the best nap ever and ran off. Stan fits, because he is never still. He is always darting about in his small tank. I'm not sure he sleeps. Of course I don't stand by the take 24 hours a day, but surely at some point he does. Bob slept. I'm quite sure that Bob was a college student. He woke only to eat and when someone pissed him off. Usually me, flicking the tank with my fingernail wondering if he was dead. Or Stan. Apparently Stan was a rowdy 2 year old on a sugar high.

Goodbye Bob. I hope you enjoyed your beautiful sendoff. I hope that Le toilet and the sewage system processional was the exact type of sendoff you were hoping for.

 

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Shopping We Must Go!

Boy howdy, have I got some super, fantastic news for you!

Have you ever noticed how we, as women have specific wardrobes. I know that I have clothes for school, clothes for work, fancier clothes for work, workout clothes, church clothes, casual dressy clothes, clothes to get dirty in. And that doesn't include all of those categories for each season.

I've got blizzard, frigid, cold, cool, mild, warm, hot and 3 degrees cooler than hell clothes. Amazingly so, I don't have that many clothes. Although I do have a nice stash of clothes in my office that need to go to goodwill. I love losing weight and getting rid of clothes that are too big.

So today, because I love you, and because you totally need to prepare for the cooler days to come and maybe even start that Christmas shopping a few days earlier than last year.

Shabby Apple is running a fantastic promotion where starting today, through Friday September 14.

10% off site wide code: favorite10

 

 Yes folks, you read that right. 10% off, site wide. So anything you purchase is good for a discount.

 

 

 

So what are you waiting for? I'm certainly not waiting on you! Happy Shopping!

 

Cheap...or Brilliant?

A few weeks ago my husband and I were catching up on our huge list of DVRed tv shows. We both remember our parents watching the original show Dallas. Heck, John was even born right in the middle of an episode.

We figured, we would watch the new version when it came out on TNT so that we could see what all the fuss was about. There's just enough intrigue involved to keep me interested. Which takes a lot, considering the majority of the crap I watch on TV involves police, dead bodies, suspects, and jail cells.

So imagine my surprise when we were watching this particular moment and up pops this image on the screen.

Huh. That looks vaguely familiar. So I start yelling at John to "pause it". Apparently I'm yelling rather excitedly because he starts scrambling like I've just told him the world is going to end. So after he rewinds it, we pause, and low and behold.

See, this picture was taken on the table in my office at home.

And this picture from my office at work.

John and I both found it rather ironic, that Dallas, a television show that was as popular as it was back in the 80's would be so cheap in it's new venture to purchase a stereo from Walmart. Makes me want to record all the episodes again, and start looking for stuff from the dollar type stores.

They could have at least plugged it in so the message center was blue. They were so cheap that they bought there stereo from good ole Wally World, that they couldn't waste the electricity on that little blue area.

As I was typing this (I've had the pictures saved in a post for weeks), I realized that my grandfather used to watch westerns. Lots of John Wayne westerns. Lots. And I remember him pointing out trains in the background, and numbers that showed the cabins that they were using were actually part of some retreat or hotel. He was always so busy watching the scenery to point out these things that most people don't notice, that I wonder, if he actually knew all of what was going on in the movies. Or maybe, he had just seen them so many times, that he knew them by heart.

It's funny, the things that you miss. He would have had a good laugh about my $40 stereo being on TV.