Monthly Archives: January 2008

here’s some thoughts for you

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1.) Yesterday I ran across a 3-page transcript that was numbered as follows: page 1 of 2, page 2 of 2, and page 3 of 2.

2.) After reading about how horribly bad white bread/rice/etc. is for me, I think I’m finally going to turn into a brown rice/whole grain oatmeal/(oh, how this last one pains me…) whole wheat bread kind of a girl. Seriously. I can’t deny it anymore. White stuff is just so much EASIER. I loved easy.

3.) I’m out of Cheerios. Tragic.

4.) I’ve developed a deep and overwhelming love for plants. It’s totally weird and I never thought it would happen to me, but here I am: Girl Who Gets Excited About Plant Life. I nurture Ivys. I appreciate Mtn. Laurels. I wonder about where they come from, where they are going, and whether or not they would like a sip of my lemon-lime gatorade.

5.) Why does anyone like American Idol? It’s a horrible, horrible show. Go DANCE WARS.

birdday.

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In the last days before my birthday every year, I always feel as if the age that I am leaving behind is incredibly and ridiculously young. How could I have ever taken myself seriously at the age that I was? And now, now that I am one year older, now that I have one more notch on my belt–NOW I will be taken seriously and not continue to say stupid things constantly. Now I will not get in trouble at work for silly little things I didn’t think would be a big deal but apparently WERE!

Then, in the twilight of the birthday itself, I come to realize that, no. No I won’t better, smarter, faster, stronger (not even with Kanye’s help) just because I’m officially one year older. This is why getting old sucks. It’s not that we don’t want to get older, it’s just that we’re all convinced that we’re supposed to get better with age, and that’s just a plain ol’ load o’bull.

Among more sunnier tidbits of information, here’s this: I simultaneously ate my favorite enchiladas, the world (second) best queso, and a fantastically fabulous margarita over the weekend. Can’t beat that with a stick. Other things I ingested are as follows: oatmeal cake, vanilla ice cream, cokes, mexican food casserole, shrimp, artichokes, pasta, cokes, and cheesecake. So, in summary, birthday weekends are delicious.

usps

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Why in heaven’s name the USPS always feels the need to make my life more complicated than it has to be, I will never know.

UPDATE: During my 3rd angry trip to the post office, my package (the book for my Nutrition class)  magically appeared at my house.  Husband called me JUST before I ripped a USPS worker’s head off: a dangerous venture considering their reputation for getting CRAZY.  I have since been studying Nutrition as if my life depended on it.

slackerville.

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I haven’t told you of all the awesomeness of my healthy adventures this week because there haven been absolutely no adventures into the world of healthiness.  None.  I haven’t gone to the gym, I haven’t quit drinking cokes, I haven’t consumed the suggested amount of water, my pyramid has not been followed, and I made some cookies last night, damn it, cause they sounded good and Naomi was over, and SHE IS GOOD AT MAKING COOKIES.

 Heck, I was even going to bring the cookies to work today, and share them with everyone until I thought: “Good heavens.  Why am I going to give all these delicious cookies away to all these people? I could eat them MYSELF. DUH.”

I ate the world’s greatest mashed potatoes ever made by yours truly last night, and I’m fully aware of the inordinate amount of butter that was in them.  And I’m aware that the cookies I made were BUTTER cookies.  And I didn’t even care.  I asked around to see if I could just get some High Fructose Corn Syrup that I could drink straight.  And perhaps I could get that fried in some fully hydrogenated oil?

I’ll do better next week.  This week was a chocolate-havin’, cookie-makin’, don’t-care-what-my-calorie-intake-is kind of a week.

 Oprah makes me feel guilty for eating what I want.

long weekends are so glorious.

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I have eaten, and I have eaten well over the weekend.

Here’s a quick sneak-a-glance at the weekend gone by:

- beer and nachos friday night with zack and a friend of his from college, jenn.

- 27 dresses, chick-fil-a, shopping, the terminal, cheese enchiladas and margaritas, all mixed in with some sister-and-brother-in-law love, and some fun with the nieces.

- house cleaning (exciting only to me, but shut up, i love a clean house), sushi, bass pro shop and There Will Be Blood with zack and the cheese.

- lazing around, organizing, cooking and the drinking of many a $2.50 pint with brother-in-law jared, God bless The Flying Saucer’s Monday Night Fire Sale.

See? See how there are four bullets, not just three, and that’s how much fun I had o’er the weekend? I love MLK for a lot of reasons, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that one of them is the holiday that he inadvertently created.

Overheard this weekend: “I could totally dominate on some squirrels with this gun.” — The Cheese

science freaks me out.

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Maybe 6 months ago, I decided that I want to become a RN. I’m already a card carrying degreed person–in fact, I’m 4 years removed from my college days, which is exactly long enough for me to (apparently) have forgotten everything about it. My first degree was a BA, meaning that I did things that I liked and my school counted it as valid work. Here are some of the things that I like: reading books for fun, learning some Spanish every once in a while, and taking advanced grammar classes for fun, though they clearly have no effect whatsoever on my ability to write or speak properly.

So there! Aside from the very minimum amount of science classes necessary, I eeked by studying language and philosophy, and sometimes the philosophy of language with narry a history class to bog down all the fun that I was having. I think the total of my science credits from College, Round One, are as follows: Anatomy and Physiology 1, and a whimsical class called “Meteorology, Earth Science and Chemistry” where they gloriously combine all three of the said subjects into one class so as to not actually teach you anything of depth about any of the three. Ta Dah.

I’m sure you can see where this is going. I have a problem. I decided that I want to be SarahtheNurse. So far in my life, I’ve been SarahtheScienceEvasionArtist.

Yesterday, I took the first steps in pursuit of my new goal of nursedom. I signed up for an online class in which I will study Nutrition101. I wasn’t nervous about Nutrition101, cause seriously, how hard can that be? Um, whole grains are better. Can I have an A, please? That’s kinda what I was (foolishly) expecting.

Today, I took the second step in my journey to nursedom, and I actually found out where the online classroom was, signed on, and looked at the syllabus. And then I had a heart attack, because OH MY GOD, the testing rules mention calculators, what the hell have I gotten myself into? There is a very specific line in the syllabus meant very specifically for idiots like me that says, “This is a science course. It should be taken with the same amount of seriousness with which one would approach a SCIENCE COURSE. Science is precise, and requires math, and we will not give you an A because you know that you’re supposed to be eating wheat bread, Mrs. I Had A White Bread And Turkey Ham Sandwich For Lunch, And Yes I Cut It Into Triangles.”

So, though yesterday was victorious and I was Neil Armstrong jumping around the moon because I mastered the art of online class registration, and “Look at me! I used amazon.com to order my textbook!” today, I do not feel quite so victorious. Today I am overwhelmed and prematurely disappointed and using the calculator that I’m not allowed to bring to the testing room to figure out how many steps away I am from my new lifegoal, which is somewhere in the 12 million range, and I want to cry. Sure, in the end when I’m working my dream job for the remainder of my working days and not hating it, myself and my life, it’ll be worth it. But from here, years away from the end, and pondering the semesters of ‘specifics oriented’ science classes between here and there, I’m just overwhelmed.

O chalky greatness, O circular deliciousness

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First and foremost: over the weekend, I happened upon a friend’s unwanted stash of LifeSaver’s Wint-O-Green Happiness. Such a concept was previously unheard of to me. I can’t imagine, no matter the quantity, having so many little white circles of minty goodness that one would be willing to part with them. I grabbed, oh, maybe a metric ton, and I have 3 left? maybe 4? Good heavens alive, I love these things with all my heart. I wonder if the chalk in these things could double as TUMS?

So, as a result of the stabbing ear pain and the sinus infection that just won’t quit, I’m currently using 4 prescription meds, two of which are ear drops. On the bottles, it only says how often to use the drops, and how many drops to use. It does not have any (necessary and) practical instructions on how long I should keep my head awkwardly held to the side whilst I let these a-cursed drops soak into my infected ear!

DAYS after I got these dumb drops I finally webmd’ed ‘em and found out the answer is TWO MINUTES.

Two minutes. That’s how long I’m supposed to let these drops soak into the ears.Care to venture a guess as to how long I was letting them “soak,” a term that I use loosely cause they don’t actually do any soaking, what they actually do is make my neck hurt?

FOREVER. HOURS. DAYS. I have been walking around the office with my head cocked sideways, resting on my left shoulder for DAYS. I am an idiot. I am an Idiot with a capitol ‘I’ who deserved the brutal physical punishment and new-office-embarrassment that I endured because I WAS BORN INTO A TECHNOLOGICALLY ADVANCED AGE. I know about Google. I deserve a public lashing.

Speaking of public lashings, I went to the damn yoga class. I don’t think that there’s anything that can check my ego as fast as hopping into a fast-paced yoga class (oxymoron, I know, but don’t tell me, tell Sara the levitating yoga instructor) with a bunch of 19 year olds. Holy moley. That instructor and the vast majority of that class could contort their bodies in ways that I thought were only appropriate in movies that were released around Halloween. Seriously, guys. I’m not that old, and I shouldn’t be this stiff. But there I was, hiding in the corner of the classroom with the least mirrors, hanging out with the person who was the closest to my age without going under (a 60? year old man) and angrily eyeballing the girl in the hot teal outfit (does not use the word ‘outfit’ lightly. believe you me. twas an ‘outfit’) and wishing upon her that within four years of graduating college, that she be as stiff and hamstring impaired as I am.All that aside, I guess it accomplished my goal, which, in the end is simply to raise my heart rate for at least 30 minutes a day. Also, it gave me stories to tell Zack when he got home from work, and it allowed me to see an alternative profession for Circus Freaks besides, well, being a Circus Freak: Yoga Instructor.

And I DID park in the far-far-away parking lot today. I had no idea that the key to self-motivation is as simple as blog proclamations.

is not excited about free yoga.

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Yeah, that’s right. Eat it. I don’t care that I’m not excited about taking a free yoga class at a school with a bunch of hard bodied super flexible rich sophomores that are “so totally psyched about their new RTVF class, it’s like, about hollywood scandals!”

Vom.

Alright, alright, so it’s pessimist day. Bite me. I don’t want to be peppy about getting my body and mind and soul aligned later today. I am way too content with the aligning of the pillows and the remote and the blankets that I did ALL WEEKEND LONG to get pumped about anything physical. Here’s the plus side to sleeping for an entire weekend: when you’re asleep, you can’t eat an entire bag of Dorito’s. And sleep does a body good, right? Right. Unless you take into account that my pursuit of healthiness was not carried out with three square meals and two rectangular snacks, a partridge and a pear tree this weekend. In fact, my vague New Year’s resolution took the form of cereal and steak and pickled okra, two birthday parties (one for a 15 year old, another for a 2 year old), and too many glasses of wine for a girl who is currently on pain meds. Nom, Nom, Nom.

Verbal mouthful.

Here’s a question for you: When did white cake become all the rage? Although I actually went to two birthdays this weekend, my mouth keeps going “wedding? wedding?” Other things my mouth has said this weekend are as follows: “chocolate cake? where’s the chocolate cake?” “No thanks, I’ll just keep eating this here pickled okra.” “Zack, try the oysters, I SWEAR they are actually good, I KNOW it shocked me too, DO IT.” and, of course “Yes. Would like more wine. Now.”

Here’s what Zack said to me, ooooooh, about 13 times this weekend: “Good morning.” On Saturday I was awake for a grand total of 6 hours. Not exaggerating. Sunday I did better, but just cause I had to go grocery shopping. Sunday morning is a 1billionkagilliontrillion times better a time to go to Walmart than Saturday afternoon. Lesson learned.

Here’s my commitment to you, blog reader extraordinaire: I will go to yoga this afternoon, even though I don’t want to. Heck, while I’m throwing around promises about things I don’t want to do: I also promise you that tomorrow, I will park in the correct parking lot, even though it is farther away and I don’t wanna.

well, first things first.

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Before I get all workout crazy, I guess I gotta get myself healthy, as in, not so sick I want to die, first.

On Tuesday night I was running around town taking care of some errands, and having a good time with SisterKaty when my right ear started to hurt.  I’ve been battling this crazy sinus infection for about a week now, and my ear felt “closed” on and off, but I figured that was just cause all that congestion , right?  About two hours after the pain started, it became severe pain.  Ice picks in my ear is what it felt like.  Death.  Sharp stabbing death to my ear, I thought I was going to die.

After trying hot socks with salt and taking some Aleve to no avail, I finally asked Zack to take me to the UrgentCare that’s right down the road.  I’ve never been so grateful in all my life that I live in the hospital district.  When the doctor came in to see me, he looked in my ear and said, “Woah.”

“Woah,” is NOT a word that you want to hear your doctor say.  Even if my ear did hurt so bad, it felt like ripping it off would be a good option– you still don’t want to shock a medical professional.  They gave me some ear drops that were supposed to help with the pain (but didn’t), took x-rays of my head and chest to see how bad the congestion was (real bad) and then came back with a shot for the pain.

A shot! For ear pain!  I couldn’t believe it. He gave me what he called “the sledge hammer” – a shot so fierce that 15 minutes later, when I was walking out of there, Zack literally had to assist me out of the building and into the car.  I had to have help walking up the stairs in the house, and I went to sleep. for 12 hours.  Solid.

So 3 days and 4 perscriptions later, I’m feeling better.  The icepick-in-the-ear seems to be a thing of the past, though I still have no hearing in the ear,nevermind the constant ringing noise.  And because it’s dangerously close to TMI, I’ll just say this: the decongestant that he gave me is working like a champ.  Seriously.

Needless to say, I haven’t used the gym membership yet.  Next week is “free class” week.  You gotta get exctied about free Yoga classes, don’t you?