I was walking around your store earlier today, minding my own business, texting my friend Kate about a pedi date, keeping an eye out for the...ahem, "feminine products" whose need brought me into the store, when suddenly, a vision opened up before me that stopped me dead in my tracks. Thank God I had my phone right there, so I could capture photographic evidence of this previously (assumed to be) "exstinked" item.
Do you see this, CVS? Love's Baby Soft aerosol body spray?!? OMG. And, right next to it? Ex'cla-ma'tion! One shelf down? (I didn't subject my phone GBs to the humilation of being used to capture it in digital glory) Giorgio, and Wind Song. I kid you not. It was right there, on your endcap shelf, next to the chocolate Easter bunnies. For God sake, CVS. Where is your shame?
Who? Who, I ask you, is buying this stuff? Don't today's teenagers have better olfactory sense? (scents?) Pre-teens, hopefully, need parental permission to purchase perfumary, and WHAT mother would allow an 11 year old to buy Sugar Kiss aerosol...cause, you know, you can just hold that spray nozzel down and go to town, offending the allergies of the whole block. Is it 40 year olds stuck in their 1987 18 year old glory? It really is just cruel that you still sell this stuff. I mean, some people need to step away from the ratting comb and the Aquanet, put down the crimping iron, and move on. CVS, you do not need to be enabling these people.
I hope in the future I see some better judgement on your part, CVS. I truly enjoy my Extra Bucks, and would hate to be forced to go to Walgreen's just because you errantly put a Giorgio tester in the hands of a heavy fingered Hannah Montana wanna-be who polluted the whole store.
Giuliana has taken to running around the house with her arms stretched out behind her, fingers spread wide. She can't tell me what's on her mind, but I image it's something like this: "Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, I'm FLYING! Look at me go!"
I remember that feeling as a little kid. Do you? I would run around in circles, arms out wide, sure if I ran fast enough I would Take Off! I had a little thing for Wonder Woman at the time, too. I vividly recall putting on a leotard and some bracelets, sure that they would stop bullets. I may have considered jumping off the garage roof with my gold lasso....
This must have been about the time I was also learning how to climb down from the treetops. When I was three or four I would climb to the very top branches, and then have no idea how to get down. "DAAAAAAAADDDYYY! SHOULD I JUST JUMP DOWN???" His answer was always no. He would make his way up the tree and then help me climb down by telling me where to put my feet. I remember it was like one of those exercises in trust, where you free fall backward hoping someone will catch you. I was always scared he would let me fall if I missed a branch. When I got closer to the bottom he would often tell me to jump into his arms, and I was afraid he wouldn't catch me. He never missed, though. He was always there.
G appears already to have my penchant for climbing EVERYTHING REMOTELY CLIMBABLE. She hasn't started to scale door frames yet (one of my defining childhood accomplishments) but that's probably just 'cause her legs are still too short. We better make sure her bedroom windows are locked, this kid is headed for the roof someday, I'm sure of it. Luckily, she's got a Daddy who will always catch her when she jumps, too.
I'm sorry, but have you seen how stinkin' cute this girl is? I know I'm totally harping on this lately, but I find I just can't help myself. I was editing some photos last night, and I couldn't stop myself from uploading a few (several) here. You're just gonna have to live with it.
(Yes, I stole that from The Colbert Report, I'm so lame.)
The setting: driving on yet another long ass road trip, this time to Albany The time: last Friday, noonish The place: somewhere not far southwest of Albany, on I-90
Me: See that sign over there, for Mr. Subb? J: Yeah, are you hungry? Me: No, see, I just think that's pretentious. J: Mr. Subb is pretentious? Me: Yeah, why the second "b"? It's totally extraneous and pretentious. J: There really aren't many pretentious deli owners. Me: It's just, that "b" isn't even related to anything. SuBmarine sandwich, one "b", suBway, one "b"...why does he need 2? J: Maybe Mr. Subb is his name. Me: No, I don't think so, I just think he's trying too hard to be cool. It's wasteful. J: Are you saying that, in this time of economic crisis, that it is imprudent to have an extra "b"? Me: Exactly. Think of all the money they could be saving on ink and such, not having to print an extraneous "b" on all their napkins and cups. J: You should totally write a letter to Mr. Subb, of Mr. Subb, Inc. Me: I'm sure it's Mr. Sub, of Mr. Subb, Inc., and I think I will.
Several years ago, before I was a home owner, when I yearned and dreamed of owning and decorating my own home, the title of this post would not have been possible. I had visions of beautiful, shiny, well-maintained oak or cherry floors, gleaming in the sunlight. I saw myself lazing about on those beautiful floors, maybe with a big, fluffy floor cushion, a magazine, and a cup of tea. I did not, however, envision cleaning those floors. Everyday.
Now I own a home that is filled with these floors. Not the handsome floors of my daydreams. No, these hard wood (and really, do we always need the disclaimer that they are "hard" wood? I mean, who doesn't want to giggle a little in a dirty way every time I say that? I think a man must have devised that particular descriptive term. Yes, there was definitely a man behind hard wood floors, the more I think about it. It all makes sense. I digress...continue on) that "grace" my home have seen the worst of it. Kids, animals, water damage, years of wear and tear. They are battle scarred. I should probably think of them in more charitable ways, given all they have seen and withstood in their 72 years. But, alas, I cannot.
For the benefit of those of you who have not been in my home, let me describe for you our flooring layout. We have one strip of carpeting in the whole house, the stairs and upstairs hallway, which finds itself just as abused as the hard wood. This carpet is routinely called upon by my animals to be subjected to their various gastrointestinal woes. I mean, John has gastroinestinal woes, but HE doesn't see a need to spread it all over the only carpet in the house. In any event, the rest of the house is either tired, old linoleum (kitchen and bath, nat.) or tired, old hard wood. The downstairs floors have had a little more love in their lives than the upstairs. The downstairs was at one time (way prior to us) covered in carpeting of its own, which protected the wood. Then, when the carpeting came up, I'm sure in some 80's reno project, the floors were sanded and resealed, as they deserved. The upstairs floors, they have never seen the love of a wood sander or an oil treatment. They have been left to their own pathetic devices over the years and have turned dry, tired and bitter.
Enter my furry family. By that, I mean, two cats and a rather large dog. Enter spring. Oh, spring. You two-faced back-stabber. You bring flowers and birdsong and sunny skies. And you bring shedding and mud all over the freakin' place. And this is where I have come to loathe my hard wood floors. For, unlike carpeting, they do not quietly suck up the dust and dander and let you peacefully imagine that you have a clean home. No, they announce to everyone that no matter how dutifully I sweep and vacuum and even get down on my freakin' hands and knees and wipe up all the cat hair/dog hair/tracked in dirt, etc....it is STILL there, 2 seconds later, as someone walks by and the hairs fly. It's ALWAYS there.
My next house will be carpeted in dull, industrial strength, grey heaven. And yes, I just completed a 1000+ word essay on my floors.
Even though it's been spring for 2 weeks (in my world...ask my husband, he can explain) the calendar says that TODAY is the first day of spring. YIPPEE!! SPRING!!!! That deserves a few !!!s ! We have been playing outside every chance we get. What have you been doing to celebrate? *********************************
P.S. I am proposing that there should be an universal law that babies and toddlers who can't possibly comprehend what is going on should not have to be subjected to having their blood drawn by some guy (who was nice and sang the whole time, but still...) who can't find the vein and pokes around for 5 minutes and then takes three vials of blood, one of which won't fill correctly so he has to switch it out for a new one which he can't find, all the while the poor baby is laying there, scared and screaming. That's a fair law, right?
P.P.S My girl? She is AMAZINGLY strong for 15 months old. She held her little arm perfectly still the whole time. And once she got her lollipop at the end, the tears dried up and she was all "yum!" and smiles the whole ride home.
P.P.P.S I know there are children out there (I work with a lot of them) who have to endure much more painful and invasive medical treatments. They are AMAZINGLY strong too. This universal law applies for them as well.
On their website, Apple suggests that one of the nifty features of an Ipod is "rediscovering your own music." I have found this to be true. I loaded up a bunch of cds that I had laying around, never having the time or inclination to listen to them individually, created some playlists, and viola! Practically instant time-travel.
I found myself particularly sentimental over this song by Rascal Flatts. (Yes, it's country, I'm sorry, I have a weakness for good country music. But please give it a listen anyway...humor me, people.)
I haven't heard that song in a long time. And it still makes me weepy, and hopeful at the same time. Here's the story.
People have told me that they respect me for being a confident and self-assured person. I was not always that way. Far from it. I was never very popular. I had self-esteem issues out the wazoo. As a teen and young adult I felt very unsure of my identity (yeah, who doesn't?) and it took me a long time and a lot of heart ache to find myself. Most of the angsty issues that plagued me revolved around wanting a specific future...husband, home, kids. But, I was at war with myself at the same time, discovering feminist ideology, trying to become independent and less needy. I was breaking free from the values and mores that I was raised with, looking to find some peace with having my own ideas but not sure how to remake myself and still make my family happy. Basically, I was a mess from 19-26. I will try to pare down those 7 years for you and hit the highlights.
I was raised in a very fundamentally Christian family. We went to church at least 3 times a week. Both of my parents, in fact, worked full-time at the church, so, really, we were there much more often. Needless to say, I was brought up with some pretty strict and "traditional" values and rules. Abstinence until marriage. No drinking, smoking, drugs, gambling, dancing. No swearing, no "worldly" music. Purity. Modesty, Salvation. Now I'm certainly not saying that there is anything inherently wrong with any of these values. But I probably don't need to tell you that they can be suffocating. Stifling. I was pretty devout as a teen. I was the definition of a "good girl." I had ONE boyfriend in high school, and we didn't even kiss. Oh, and I was pretty boy-crazy, too. I didn't know what to do with 'em, but I wanted a bunch of 'em (one at a time) and made myself heart-sick over it constantly. I went off to Bible College at 18. Way out in Minnesota. Very far away from home. I was studying music, but in BC you have to take bible classes as well (duh.) I had been struggling with bulimia since I was 15, a HUGE secret that I hid from everyone I knew. That I was absolutely TORTURED over because A): it was a sin, my body was not my own but God's and how could I hurt/damage/hate something that was God's? and B): I was a singer and throwing up is not exactly easy on the vocal chords. I vividly remember purging, drinking some water, and desperately doing vocal exercises to "test" my voice to make sure it was ok. Away at Bible College, my world fell apart. I was so far away from home, from my family and church friends. I went from a big fish at home (at church, I was pretty well known for my singing) to a tiny fish in a vast ocean. I didn't know ANYONE. I made one really good friend there, but, to say I was overwhelmed, scared, and lost is a huge understatement. My bulimia got worse. Much worse. I won't gross you out with the details, but I was purging A. Lot. Anywhere I could. Anyway I could. And I was terribly homesick. I ended up flaking out and decided to go home at Christmas break. I hit a wall 2 weeks before finals and ended up in a huge fight with my friend over my eating disorder. She tried to get me help, I got seriously pissed off...long story short I left the school at Christmas and never looked back. My parents had no idea the mess I was at this point. When I got home, I was still lost. I had not one clue what to do with myself. I think I basically wanted to go back to being who I was in high school, but I had already changed so much. I couldn't find a job. I wasn't in school. I was still dealing with this ED. I was in a bad place.
Eventually, I found a job. And I met a boy. And I enrolled at community college. I began turning farther and farther away from the person I was raised to be, and consequently, from my family. I stopped going to church. I had sex. I began drinking, listening to whatever I wanted to. It was liberating in a way, but also terrifying. I was highly conflicted over all of it, had no idea who I was anymore, or who I wanted to be. I had basically stopped spending time with my parents, even though I was living at home. I spent all of my time at my boyfriend's house and with his family. I built my world there. I allowed that to become my identity. We dated for 4 1/2 years, but it was on and off. He broke my heart on several occasions, but I continued to stick around. When we were "off," I would still be there, hanging out with his family. I really had no where else to go. And they were supportive of me, basically thought he was a jerk for hurting me. And then we would be "on" again, and I would convince myself that some day he would grow up and we would get married and everything would work out. We both applied to Arizona State University after graduating BCC and were accepted. We were going to move out there together and get an off-campus apartment. I made a big stand with my parents about it, as, of course, we would be "living in sin." Surprisingly, they said little about it. Two weeks before we were to move out to AZ, he broke up with me. Again. I was all packed and ready to go. I couldn't go out on my own, I didn't have the money. He went. I found an apartment in Endwell, got a cat and moved out. And tried to deal with my broken heart. And I still spent most of my time with his family. He didn't last long on his own in AZ and moved back home before the semester was over. The cycle between us resumed because I just could not let him go. And I was beginning to realize what that said about me. The bulimia came back in full force. I finally admitted that I needed to deal with that and went into counseling. It helped, but I still struggled. I enrolled at Binghamton University and worked full-time to afford my apartment and school. Eventually, finally, I was strong enough to actually break it off with him myself (it was pretty mutual by that point) and begin to move on. But, I still stuck with his family.
I began dating a guy from work. He was older, divorced with two kids. I was conflicted about the relationship from day one. I was never really sure that I wanted to date him. I broke up with him repeatedly, but he would always talk me back into trying again. And I felt so guilty for hurting him (not to mention his kids) that I went back. Again and again. He proposed to me after about 1 month of dating (in which time I had broken up with him at least 3 times). He was going on a cruise with friends and asked me as he was leaving. He told me not to answer till he got back. I knew I had to say "no". But the idea that I could actually say "yes" and get married, be married, have a house, have a family...it was enticing. But I did say "no" when he got back. He simply told me he would ask again someday. About a year later (and a few more breakup cycles), he did. And by that point, I was so worn down by him, I said "yes". Even though, I knew in my heart I didn't want to marry him. Even though I wasn't passionately in love with him, even though I KNEW I was SETTLING for ok. Not great, not even good, but ok. It would make him happy. Through all this, I was still spending a lot of time with my ex-boyfriend's family. I really hadn't created any other space for myself. They were my family. They knew me so well. They supported me. But they held me back in some ways, as well. And I still didn't have much of a relationship with my own family. I was continuing to deal with the disappointment of not being the person they hoped I would be. No one I knew thought it was a good idea for me to get married to this guy. But by then, I had told people to leave me alone and let me make my own decisions so many times, that they did. No one said anything. Not that it is in anyway their fault, and I wouldn't have listened anyway, but no one tried to stop me from making the biggest mistake of my life. So, I got married.
Four months later, I left. I had met a guy, but that wasn't the point. He and I spent a lot of time talking and he helped me realize that I was completely unhappy, miserable really. I had made a huge mistake. My husband found out about some emails between this other guy and I and accused me of having an affair. I wasn't. But it gave me the chance to get out. I went home from work one night, told him I had made a mistake, I was sorry, but I had to leave. I went to my ex-boyfriend's family that night, of course, and stayed there for a week while I looked for an apartment. I remember my mom called me that night...she found me, I hadn't called her. I was shocked, scared of what she would think of me. I just left my husband after being married only four months. He was accusing me of things I hadn't done, saying I was an awful person. And I felt like an awful person. But, to my surprise, my mom supported me. A few weeks later, she and I had a long talk, and she told me she agreed with my decision to get a divorce. She didn't want to see me miserable for the rest of my life because of a mistake. Even though it is very much against her beliefs to break that kind of commitment. She still supported me. That was the beginning of my ability to heal the relationship with her. I was 26 when I got married, and divorced. For my 27th birthday, I got a tattoo to symbolize the lessons that I learned that year. Be true to yourself. Don't live your life just to make someone else happy. Listen to your heart. Be your own person. Everyone (even me) deserves to be PASSIONATELY in love with the person they are with. Never settle for less than that. And I spent a lot of time listening to "I'm Moving On" by Rascal Flatts as it was pretty much EXACTLY where I was in life.
Two months after I left, I met John. He came in for an interview with me at the agency I worked for (I've met a lot of guys at work, what can I say?) and I hired him. We began hanging out casually with some other friends. I was dating someone else briefly, and had no idea that John was interested in me. But he waited, developed a friendship with me, and eventually, when the time was right, asked me out. I didn't even realize it was a date. He asked me to go out for coffee and hear a jazz band. I assumed it was a friendly thing...after all, John is HOT, he is waaaaaaay out of my league. There were many women I knew who all had crushes on him. About half way through the night, I thought to myself, "you know, this feels an awful lot like a date. This can't be a date. He's not interested in me. No way." But it WAS a date! Yay!! I fell in love with John, PASSIONATELY, fully, wholeheartedly in love with him. It was so different than any of my previous relationships. And I finally was able to pull away from my ex-boyfriend's family. They are good people. And I am grateful to them, always, for loving me and accepting me, and supporting me in many ways as I found myself. But it was really time to move on. I needed to spread my own wings (sorry for that tacky cliche) and create my own life. And I did. John and I have a beautiful, solid relationship, built on mutual respect, love, laughter. He really, truly is my soul mate. And when I think that I could have missed the window of opportunity to be with him because I was somewhere else, making someone else happy while making myself miserable, it makes me sad. But I didn't go down that path. I reversed, chose the other path. And to quote Robert Frost, "it has made all the difference." Life was waiting for me, and I finally found it. I found confidence, too, by learning (the hard way) to trust myself, to listen to and follow my heart.
That's my long story. But I wanted to share it, because I think there are some that can relate to it, can see where I'm coming from. I am so much more at peace with myself these days. It feels good to know who I am, to know I am not compromising myself for someone else. I have made peace with my regrets, too. Moving on...
To any male readers out there...turn away. You don't want to know about this, please trust me.
For the ladies (FYI: said in that creepy, faux sexy, bar voice) please check out the post by my friend Cammie over at "Life in the House of No Sleep". Ummm...I am all for being green and environmentally friendly. And I know some of you are way more into that than I. But. Seriously. I have limits.
Discuss amongst yourselves. And don't say I never gave you anything.
Too busy enjoying the beautiful spring weather to write. Yesterday we enjoyed a walk along the flood wall (Max appreciated the ability to run free a great deal.) And we played outside for a while. I even broke out the patio furniture. Today we have been relaxing in the sun. G is currently napping, but soon some friends are coming over and we will head outside again to soak up the sunny weather while it lasts.
For those of you who have been wondering how our trip to NYC went...it went ok all things considered. John actually saw the doctor this time. We spent about 6 hours altogether between the doctor's office and the medical imaging place. Giuliana was with us, which could have been disastrous, as those of you with kids know, but she did really well. We are blessed with this little angel of ours, who just goes with the flow and finds fun in everything. So blessed that I don't know if I want to take my chances with another one. But that's a different post. So, John saw the Dr. She ordered some blood work and an MRI of his pancreas, both of which he had done that day. She is ruling chronic pancreatitis back in until she sees the results. She thinks there might be a lesion on his pancreas, or something like that that is causing all this pain. If everything turns out normal then she said that it might be a neuropathic pain that no one is ever going to be able to truly diagnose, but that there are better pain management medications that he can try instead of popping handfuls of vicodin all day long. So, not great news, but at least someone has some ideas and alternatives to the status quo.
We didn't get lost this time. Traffic wasn't quite as bad as last time. G did great. She didn't get a lot of sleep (so neither did I) but she was a trooper. She had her first Happy Meal at McDonald's on the way home. I was ridiculously proud. And we still haven't heard from her doctor about the results of her ultrasound.
So, that's where we are. I'm going back out into the sun. Have a great Sunday.
Five names you go by: 1. Kamin 2. Kami 3. Mama 4. Baby 5. Kam
Three things you are wearing right now 1. Red and white floral top 2. white tank 3. Red necklace from my mom for my b-day (which I built the whole outfit around, wouldn't you?)
Two things you want very badly at the moment: 1. to not get lost anywhere in or around NYC this time 2. for it to be the weekend
People who will fill this out 1. Kami or Kristina
Two things you did last night: 1. cleaned up the dog do-do in the yard 2. wore bunny ears to amuse G
Two things you ate today. 1. salad 2. peach slices
People you last talked to on the phone 1. John 2. Sue from work
Two things you are going to do today or already have done 1. drive to NYC 2. complete a large stack of paperwork
Two of the longest road trips 1. cross-country drive to Yellowstone park with my family when I was 12 2. D.C/Virginia with John
Three of your favorite beverages 1. coffee 2. just about any kind of fruit juice 3. diet coke
Hey all my faithful followers! I don't have time to truly post, but I wanted to update everyone on Giuliana's testing yesterday.
It was not fun times. G started screaming the minute the u/s tech turned the lights down and didn't stop till we got her out to the car. Luckily, the tech was wonderful and got us out quickly. She tried very hard to calm G down and was super friendly. G was just in a panic state. We could not get her to stop screaming and sobbing. It was, in a word, awful. We have to wait for the doctor to call with the results, the tech had no idea what she was even supposed to be looking for, so she just measured organs and such.
Glad that's over. G is back to herself today. Thankfully.
We are leaving tonight to drive to NYC for John's appointment with the gastroenterologist tomorrow. Wish us more luck.
Thank you to everyone who helped me climb off the ledge the other day with your warm words of support and good thoughts. I love you all!
Despite the overly self-absorbed title of this post, it is not about me. Nor, surprisingly, is it about my husband and all his maladys.
No, this post is about my precious 15 month old daughter. G went in for her 15 month physical on Friday. She, as I have written glowingly about, is the peak of perfection in every way. She is hitting every developmental milestone soundly and thrillingly. She lights up our every day.
But Friday her doctor found something she thinks is wrong. Not necessarily wrong in a big way, but wrong none the less. And even though it may be (please God, let it be) nothing, it still has to be checked out, and that is causing me a lot of anxiety and heartache.
Here's the thing. The doctor noticed that she has slight premature breast development. John and I hadn't even noticed it, that's how slight it is. The doctor did a physical exam and said, just to be sure, G should have an x-ray of the bones in her wrist to determine "bone age." Dr. Zhu assured us that most of these x-rays come back just fine, and it is no big deal, let's just check to be sure, and oh, go do it right now and I will call you Monday with the results, I'm sure it's fine, but don't do that blood work order yet in case I need to add to it, I'm sure it's nothing, I've never seen worrying results from one of these x-rays...
So, we took her right down to radiology and John went in with her and held her while they strapped her little wrist down and took her 1st x-rays. And then I stopped worrying about it because, it's no big deal, the doctor hasn't ever seen any worrying results, it's probably just a slight hormonal thing that she'll ourgrow, yada yada....
Then, yesterday, Dr. Zhu personally called my cell phone. I didn't answer it in time and she left a voicemail. And just said to call her. No message saying, the x-ray is fine, nothing to worry about. And the fact that the doctor called, not the nurse. Yeah, my anxiety level spiked a little, you could say. So I called her back, and of course she had stepped away from her desk, so I had to wait for her to call back. Which she did. She said that though G is 1 year 3 months old her "bone age" is 1 year 9 months old. That is a difference of 6 months...more than 1/3 of her age. What the hell???
So, G has to have a pelvic ultrasound tomorrow to look at her development and rule out any cysts, tumors or anything like that. Oh, yeah, they want my 15 month old to drink 32 oz. of water 1 hour before the u/s so she has a full bladder. Um...32 oz of water would fill more than her bladder...and how the hell am I supposed to keep her from peeing to keep her bladder full?
I keep telling myself that I AM sure it's nothing, she is perfectly normal in every other way, it's got to just be a developmental quirk. But if anything turns up in the u/s the doctor is going to order additional blood work and refer G to a pediatric endocrinologist. That scares the crap out of me. Please tell me how this is nothing to worry about, ok? Thanks.
I'm 33 today. No drama or regrets, I'm happy to be 33. Last night my husband told me he thinks 33 is a "cool number" and a little sexy, too. I have a beautiful family and a great life. I'm happy and content. I have a fun b-day weekend planned. It's spring outside (OF COURSE IT IS, PEOPLE, I KEEP TELLING YOU AND TELLING YOU I HAVE A SPRING BIRTHDAY, IT'S ALWAYS SPRING ON MY BIRTHDAY) and I feel great. Thank you, God, for every blessing these 33 years have brought me. And now, I have to go stop my daughter from eating crayons. Happy Saturday!
Well ladies (et. al.), I told you so. I told you I had "musical issues." I do thank you all for your great suggestions, I am excited for the day that I can actually check them all out. But so far, my Ipod looks like the 90's threw up on it. (The 90's after being a little hung over from the 80's, that is.) I am loathe to divulge to you all how OLD this makes me feel. I feel like I am that pathetic woman in 1990 who just couldn't get unstuck from 1978. You know the one, she was still wearing long, straight hair when everyone else was ratting theirs, she wore the pants that were flared too wide when everyone else was pinch-rolling, wore flowery shirts when others were just discovering the warm coziness of flannel. Or, as I am writing this, maybe you don't know her, because a lot of you were, oh, what...5 in 1990? GOD! I AM OLD.
Here's a sampling of what I have so far...either purchased or copied from my cd collection: The Bangles David Bowie Aerosmith Colby Caillet John Mayer Alicia Keys The Supremes Garth Brooks Elton John Dixie Chicks Tina Arena Jars of Clay George Michael The Beatles Wham! Sarah McLachlan Queen Big Pretty and the Red Rockets Run-DMC The Police Harry Connick, Jr. The Duhks (thank you Colleen and Kristina) Oh, and Stevie Wonder, of course
Oh, my embarrassment. This is going to take a committed effort on my part to get out of this deep trench I have dug myself into by listening to NPR on a far too exclusive basis.
************************** On a completely unrelated topic...I just wanted to update you on my husband's continuing health problems (and I guess I am into lists today, sorry.)
He saw his primary care doctor today (Shout Out! to Dr. Zhang, he's awesome!) who didn't have anything new to tell us. John seems to be getting sicker as the days go by, not better. He had some blood work done last week at my suggestion because it hadn't been done recently. Nothing to show, though. Everything looks normal. Now, I know that's supposed to be good news, but at this point, ANYTHING showing up would be appreciated. The doctor extended John's disability leave till April 19 at the earliest. We are making the trek back down to NYC next week and having faith that they won't tell us he doesn't have an appointment this time.
But, just for fun, we asked the doctor if there is ANYTHING, ANYTHING other than rest, that John could be doing right now to help himself. ANYTHING AT ALL. The doctor...could not come up with ONE thing that he thinks will help John. Not diet, not exercise, not acupuncture (and this guy's Chinese, too), not yoga, not a vitamin cocktail...nothing. He did give us quite a lengthy list of all the diseases/disorders that they have ruled out. I'm going from memory, here, but here is a partial list of what he spouted out for us:
gallbladder disease (he had his gallbladder removed 4/08, just 'cause) acute pancreatitis (had that, 7/08) chronic pancreatitis hepatitis a, b, and c (had hep A 10/07) liver cancer pancreatic cancer stomach cancer Sphincter of Oddi dysfunction (had a procedure for that, just 'cause, 7/08) kidney stones kidney failure any infectious disease parasites Crohn's disease colon cancer colon polyps irritable bowel syndrome (not completely ruled out, but not likely to cause this much pain) vascular restrictions around the stomach ulcers
And I know I am forgetting some of the things he listed.
The doctor asked John what he is hoping for. John was at a loss for words, as no one has asked him that before. I jumped in and said "I would like him to be able to function, because right now, he's not functioning at all. I would like him to be able to live, if not a completely normal and pain free life, at least to have his pain controlled so he can do things like, go to work, play with his daughter, enjoy anything." I know, so much to ask for.
Thanks, I mean it, really, THANKS! for your continued love, support, prayers, good karma and vibes, shoulders to lean on, food to feed my family, all of it. Thank you.
Quiche is a gustatory extravagance. With the heavy involvement of eggs, cream, and, generally, cheese...not to mention the butter or, even worse, shortening in the pie crust, quiche is anything but artery friendly.
But, this morning, with the sun shining brightly in my kitchen window, and all ingredients on hand, I had to go for it. Cause you know, sometimes you just have to say, "let there be quiche!"
I have a recipe that calls for 6 eggs and 2 cups of heavy cream. Um....let's look and see what else we can find in my pile of recipes and cookbooks. Here's a much better option! Light(er) Quiche. I decided to make 2; Spinach/Feta/Bacon, and Ham /Cheddar.
Light(er) Quiche
Basic quiche:
1 9" refridgerated pie crust (yeah, I cheated on that part)
Preheat oven to 425*. Press crust into a 9" pie pan. Bake 5 minutes. Remove, reduce heat to 375*
3 eggs 3/4 cup low-fat milk 1/2 teaspoon salt Black pepper to taste
Mix all ingredients together with a whisk. Add fillings. Mix.
Spinach/Feta/Bacon Filling:
4 slices cooked bacon, crumbled 1 handful fresh spinach leaves, diced (sorry, I didn't measure) 1/2 cup crumbled feta 1/2 cup shredded mozzarella
Ham/Cheddar Filling:
4 oz ham steak, cubed 3/4 cup shredded sharp cheddar 1/4 cup shredded mozzarella (cause I ran out of cheddar, but this is a nice mix anyway.)
Pour entire mixture into pie crust. Bake at 375* for 30-35 minutes, until golden brown.
Meanwhile, play in the sun.
Oh, and it's a good idea to have some swell music going, too. It makes the quiche turn out better.
Remove and let cool for at least 10 minutes before serving. This can be served hot, room temperature, or cold...it's good anyway you choose :)
