Category: Life

My poor baby had a bad, bad morning. Go give him some love.

* * * Your burning questions, answered! From my comments: Will there be a house remodeling journal? Good thing Fred got all that practice painting in your current house. What are your plans for the kitties being able to go outdoors? Whatever you come up with I am sure it will be uber perfecto. I am so happy and excited for all of you. You are going to have so much fun! One more thing… you mean they do not have open enrollment at Spud’s school? There probably won’t be a separate house remodeling journal – we’ll just write about it in our journals as we go, though we might designate a “house remodeling” category. We plan to let the cats outdoors, because one of the many things we want to do is put up a privacy fence to fence off a good part of the yard right behind the fence. We’ll probably also put a cat door in the back door (we were talking about using the laundry room as a foster cat room, but decided to use the laundry room to put the litter box in, and to put a cat door in the back door) so they can get in and out during the day. Considering that we’re moving to the country, I shudder to think of what they’ll be bringing inside the house. Field mice, I’m sure, and lots of them! And no, apparently they don’t have open enrollment at her school. I think the superintendent was thrown for a loop when Fred talked to him yesterday, because he acted like he’d just never ever heard of such a thing. * * * Why not turn the room above the garage into your workout room or a young adult room for spud?? Because we’ve been talking, and I think we’re going to wall off part of it and use half for storage and half for a foster cat room. We’ll need to put an air conditioning unit in there, and some kind of heating unit, but I think putting the foster cats up there would be a perfect solution! * * * As for that concrete pad, you could get one of those canvas or vinyl or whatever tent-top things, or hey, how about you put a HOT TUB out there? We’re actually talking about putting a gazebo out there – but I kind of like the idea of a hot tub, too! I’m sure we’ll talk it to death before we ever get close to doing anything! * * * Also – I noticed the way you slipped in that the laundry room may also be the foster cat room in the picture descriptions. You’re going to foster again??? Yes indeed! In fact, once I find out I don’t have some exotic liver disease or they take out my gallbladder or whatever, once that’s all in the past, I’m going to be fostering while we live here, since the boys are over a year old and Fred said it was okay with him. * * * How ever will you keep the kitties in rein in that “yard”??? A privacy fence should do it, although Fred jokingly (I think!) suggested that he could put an electric fence around the entire property and put collars on all the cats. * * * I guess you will be renovating it before you move in? Where are you going to put the workout room?? What will the neighborhood be like for your walking? It’ll mostly be repainting and maybe some sheetrocking on the inside of the house. We do plan to replace the tubs in the bathrooms and stuff like that, but not right away. We just want to get everything painted and looking the way we want it, and then we can work on the other stuff. The workout room is going to be in one side of the garage, I think. Fred’s going to park in the other side of the garage. We thought about putting the workout stuff in the bonus room on the second floor of the garage, but some of that equipment is really heavy and like I mentioned above, we want to build a foster cat room up there and use the rest for storage. The road the house is on is a kind of sleepy country road (although around 5 pm the traffic picks up a bit). I think as long as I walk facing traffic so I know when to step off to the side and wear some kind of reflective gear (god, I just got an image of myself in a reflective vest. I’m going to look like a complete DORK, aren’t I? Better dork than dead, though!), I should be okay. I need to use Gmaps pedometer to map out a route! * * * Just make sure the inspector looks for termites. Lots of wood happening in that old house. Fred already asked; there’s a termite bond on the house. * * * You always eat so well (something I struggle with some days) and I was wondering if you still weigh/measure your foods? Approximately how much are you eating nowadays? Ever since I got back from Maine, I haven’t done much weighing or measuring of food, because I’ve been crazy busy (which is a BAD excuse). I mostly eat the three meals a day, along with the occasional snack. I can eat more than you’d expect, but still way less than I could before the surgery. An example of my eating yesterday would be: Breakfast: Onion and cheese omelet (1 whole egg, three whites), mini container of yogurt (I buy the 40-calorie containers of Dannon Light & Fit), 1/2 peach (without the skin. I hate that fuzz.). Lunch: 4 oz boiled shrimp with homemade cocktail sauce (low-carb ketchup, a bit of horseradish), small salad with a drizzle of ranch dressing, and a melted string cheese. Midafternoon: I piece of ham with rolled up with a slice of 2% sharp cheddar. Dinner: Hamburger patty with mushrooms and onions on top (VERY GOOD), 1/2 a corn on the cob and a couple of slices of tomato. Evening: Mini container of yogurt That’s fairly typical, except for the occasional day when I can tempt Fred into going out for dinner – which has happened too often since I got back from Maine, I’m a bad influence – and lately we’ve kind of been on a Mexican kick. * * * There is only one thing that I wonder about…Where is MY bedroom?? Over the garage, with the foster cats, of course. You could be their caretaker, and I’ll just show up every once in a while to love on them! * * * Oh, and are you guys going to add a pool? We’ve talked about it, but at this point we’re leaning towards “no.” That could change, though! * * * I am wondering how you are feeling emotionally, and psycologically about your weight loss thus far, as opposed to the fears you had in the beginning? Because I’m a worrywart, I worry a lot. Mostly about things like, what if I can’t get to my goal weight? What if I get to my goal weight and keep losing? What if I start looking like Nicole Richie in a drapey skin suit? I mean, don’t get me wrong – I don’t spend all my time worrying. I’m thrilled I’ve lost so much weight, and sometimes I stare at myself in the mirror in amazement. When Fred and I talk about how much I’m currently weighing (as we did last Thursday, which was my most recent weigh-in day), I said “Yeah, it was 288.5. I guess I should be happy I lost three pounds!” and he said “288.5.” and I said “Yeah, I lost three pounds!” and he said again “288.5.” and I sighed and said “Yes! WHAT?” and he rolled his eyes and said “I think you mean 188.5, Bessie.” And I do that ALL the time. It’s like being in the 100s just hasn’t sunk in yet, like it’s not real. I have to say, most of the fears I had right after surgery were of the physical sort – because you always hear about people who have complications due to the surgery and end up dying. God knows I haunted the Complications board at ObesityHelp.com so much I was driving myself crazy and had to stay away for a while. As far as my attachment to food goes, I’m not going to lie – sometimes I wish I could sit down and eat half a box of Little Debbies the way I could before surgery. I miss the sweet, cakey foods sometimes. But when it comes down to it, I know in my mind, if I haven’t accepted it completely emotionally, that the fact that I could be that attached to a kind of food is exactly the reason I needed to have that surgery. It’s a built-in security system. Could I eat half a box of Little Debbies? Sure I could, given enough time and enough liquid to wash it down with. But I’d end up running to the toilet all afternoon. And who the hell wants that? * * * What does the spud think about the WLS. It’s probably easier because she’s older, but I wonder what effects my surgery will have on the kids as they get older. I’m trying to teach them the positive stuff and be simple yet honest about what I went through. I’m also trying to have a positive self image around them. That’s pretty hard at times especially with the extra skin.. blech! She hasn’t had much to say about it, but I don’t think she’s as weirded out by it as she was before I had the surgery. I’m sure she thought that once I had the surgery I wasn’t going to ever be able to eat more than a tablespoon of food at a time (which is a falsity, in case you were wondering), and would never be able to eat anything “good” again (I have the occasional bite of Fred’s ice cream or Friday junk food). I think she’s got a pretty positive self-image. She’s not freaky about her weight, but she knows (from watching us) how to eat right, and she’ll occasionally weigh herself. She’s been right around her current weight for a few years now, and considering the fact that she weighs about 50 pounds less than I did when I was her age, I’d say she’s doing pretty well! * * * Do you like the climate in Alabama better or the climate in Maine better OVERALL? I think if I HAD to choose one, I’d choose Alabama. Because we can wear shorts up until about Thanksgiving down here, whereas in Maine it’s ALREADY getting down into the 40s at night. And it’s only the middle of August! If I were within a couple of hours of the beach, it’d pretty much be perfect. Except for the poisonous snakes and spiders, that is. * * * What was it about your current home that made you decide to buy it, and what is it that makes you want to move out of it? The fact that we’d sold our previous house (in 9 days, no less!) and couldn’t seem to find a house we agreed on made us pretty desperate. Even back then we were talking about getting a smaller house in the country, but every house we looked at, Fred didn’t like. He’d gotten spoiled with the ten-minute drive to work, and the house I liked the most – this one – was, according to Fred, too far from Huntsville. It ended up being the same with pretty much every house that was out in the country that we looked at. Too far out in the country. Too old. Too small. Finally, we just started looking at houses in Madison, and I pretty much went along with whatever Fred decided. We made an offer on a house in the subdivision we’re in now, but someone else made an offer faster (which was okay with me – I didn’t like the house as much as Fred did). We made an offer on a second house (second picture down) in this subdivision, but then Fred found that the windows were rotting around the outside. We made an offer on a THIRD house (third picture down) in this subdivision, but Fred really thought the house was too small (I disagreed), and at the first sign of trouble (see this entry), we pulled out. And then we saw this house for sale, a house that was more than we wanted to spend, was smaller than the house we were selling, and so we walked through it and liked it well enough and I was SO SICK of the stress of looking that I insisted we just make a fucking offer and get it over with. Don’t get me wrong – this is a pretty good house, but I think that if we’d had more time to look instead of feeling like we were going to be homeless if we didn’t find a house pronto, we might have found something a little better for us. As far as what makes us want to move out: the neighbors, the neighbors’ kids (I don’t mind kids, but it annoys the FUCKING SHIT out of me when they tromp across our front lawn three feet from the computer room window), the fact that the neighbor spent an entire summer tromping up and down the property line, sighing and looking annoyed before she spoke to Fred and asked him not to mow over the property line, and… did I mention the neighbors? The neighbors to our left, we like. They’ve got a thousand small boys, but they don’t tromp all over our lawn, and they don’t annoy us. The neighbors to our right, well, I don’t mind telling you, I think they might have bugs up their asses. I won’t miss them at ALL. Other than the neighbors, the fact that our back lawn overlooks an extremely busy road, have only about half an acre (could be less, I don’t remember exactly), and have to drive down a street laden with children with the potential to run out into the street at any moment are other reasons we’re happy to sell. I just hope we’ll be able to get this house sold! * * * When you first started walking, how far & how fast did you start at and, by how much in distance did you increase it & by what increments of time? Right after the surgery, I was walking, about half a mile, I think. After a week or so, I increased it to about 2 miles (there’s a loop that goes out of the neighborhood one way and back in another that comes in a little over 2 miles). Then I think I increased it to 3.something miles (3.2, maybe?) that was basically the 2-mile loop, with a walk into a neighborhood across the street. And then I increased it to 4.17 miles by adding a loop in that neighborhood into some side streets. I will most likely be sticking with 4.17 miles for the time being, because it takes me an hour and 10 minutes to walk, and I think that’s plenty of exercise. I don’t really recall how long the 1/2 mile walk took (possibly about 20 minutes, because I was still moving pretty slow at that point). I’m pretty sure the 2-mile loop was taking me 42ish minutes, and when I first started walking the 4.17 miles, it took me an hour and 20 minutes. Which means I’ve cut 10 minutes off my time! * * * What were your thoughts re: gastric bypass vs. gastric banding as you did research during your decision-making process? Would you consider an alternate procedure now that you’ve been thru the one you ultimately chose? Actually, had my insurance covered it, I would have had lap-band surgery. That’s the one I wanted – it’s a pretty safe surgery, from all I’ve read, because it’s completely reversible, there’s no rearrangement of your insides, and at two years out, the weight loss for lap-band patients is comparable to an RNY patient. If I had to do it over again and this time my insurance would pay for lap-band surgery, I still think that’s the one I’d opt for. Not that I regret having the RNY – the results have been fairly amazing – but things like getting sick and bloated and gassy when I eat rice is something I could live without. * * * Okay – I have more questions to answer, but I’m saving them for tomorrow, because it’s after 1, and I have an appointment to take E’gar in for a long-overdue oil change and tire-rotation and balance. If you have any questions, leave ’em in the comments, and I’ll get to them tomorrow. If you already asked in the comments and I didn’t answer you today, look for your answer for tomorrow. AND if you asked a question and I answered it but I didn’t make sense (always a possibility!) or you need clarification, say so in the comments and I’ll get to that tomorrow. Clear as mud? See you tomorrow! * * * He’s such a WEIRD cat. That’s oatmeal he’s eating. Check out the flying oatmeal. Heh! * * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: Oh, by the way? When you tell someone “Don’t worry, I won’t be back to read your journal”? Please. EVERYONE knows that means “I’m going to come back every six seconds to see the reactions to my asshole comment”. 2003: No entry. 2002: CHECK THOSE FEEDBACKS, people! 2001: 16 miles. Yeah, baby! 2000: I swear to god, that cat is half monkey.]]>

If you could send some generic happy thoughts my way, I’d appreciate it. Not because of the health stuff (I expect to hear that I’m going to need to have my gallbladder out, and I am unconcerned to the point of “Oh, is there a gallbladder issue? Oh, right. I forgot.”), but something else I’m not ready to talk about. DON’T YOU HATE IT WHEN A JOURNALER SAYS THAT? By the end of the week I’ll spill all, one way or the other. But if a million Bitchypoo readers sent a million generic good thoughts this way, it can only be a good thing, right? Right. (NO I’m not pregnant, not trying to get pregnant, never hoping or trying to get pregnant, and it’s got nothing to do with any kind of pregnancy in the Bitchypoo sphere of family, Bonnie, so don’t get excited.) (Also, no new cats or fosters in the near future. Once the gallbladder’s out, or they identify whatever exotic new disease I have and fix it, there might be fosters around the corner, but that’s not what the good thoughts are for.) Okay. See you tomorrow.]]>

like Holly did. I’ll let y’all know more as soon as I know what’s going on.

* * * (The last of the Maine recaps. You’re welcome!) Friday morning we got up and going fairly early, because we were all – my parents, Debbie and Brian, the spud and I – going to Kittery to spend the day shopping. My parents recently bought a car with three rows of seats for just such a reason, and I volunteered the spud and I to sit in the very back, since we’re the two shortest of the bunch. The very back seat wasn’t terribly comfortable, but it also wasn’t too bad (I think it took about an hour to get there). We got to Kittery just as the stores started opening, and we spent a good couple of hours shopping. I really love the stores in Kittery, because there’s a specialty store for just about anything you could imagine. I especially loved the store that featured stuff made by New England artists. Naturally, I spent too much money. After a couple of hours, my father and Brian were pretty bored – we really should have taken separate vehicles so they could have gone home after lunch, instead of sitting around looking like they were going to expire from the boredom – and we were all getting hungry, so we went for lunch, ending up at the same restaurant where we went last year, actually. I had totally decided to order the turkey dinner, because it sounded so good, but not ten seconds before the waitress came over, Debbie mentioned she was going to get the cold pot roast sandwich, and when it came time to order, my brain heard my mouth say “The turkey dinner”, but my mouth actually said “The pot roast dinner.” When it came, I thought “This doesn’t look like turkey.” But it was good, so I ate it. Toward the end of the meal, Debbie said “So basically we got the same thing, only yours is a meal, not a sandwich?”, which is when it came out that I was eating pot roast. Um. DUH. At least it was good. We left the restaurant and went on to do a bunch more shopping, including hitting the Kittery Trading Post (I could spend all day in there), the Bali store (where I should have been professionally fitted for a bra, but everyone working there was about 19, and NO I’m not taking my shirt off in front of a 19 year-old unless he’s REALLY cute and has a thing for saggy old broads), and Liz Claiborne, where I was going to buy some earrings, but I noticed they were asking for everyone’s name, address and phone number, and HELL NO am I going to give out that information for the sheer privilege of buying earrings from them, so I put them back and walked out of the store. I don’t remember what time we left Kittery, but it was probably close to 5, because we hit some rush hour traffic, made worse by an accident that had us backed up for a couple of miles. I was getting hungry and so was Debbie, so I suggested we stop and eat at LoneStar in South Portland. The spud fell asleep in the car. If falling asleep in the car were an Olympic event, she’d be buried in gold medals. We did, and I ordered a steak, and really? Not so great. I think that the steaks Fred has been grilling at home, and the Flo’s Filet I had at Longhorn have ruined me for all other steaks. Luckily, Brian was with us, so I pawned my steak off on him. We got home and pretty much just hung around the house for the rest of the evening. Saturday. I… do not for the life of me remember what we did Saturday during the day. Maybe hung around the house, ran a few errands? Oh, I know – at one point my mother and the spud and I went… somewhere. I don’t remember where! Then we stopped at JoAnn’s Fabrics on the way home and I bought a mesh hamper for the cats (confidential to Deb: Actually, the $5 hamper didn’t hold up any better than the $1 ones we’ve been getting at the flea market. When you’ve got a Booger-y bastard jumping on top of the hamper, no hamper’s going to be able to withstand that for long.) and some magnet picture frames for the fridge. Then we went down a few stores to the cut-rate card store (can’t remember the name), so I could buy some wrapping paper to wrap Brian’s birthday present, so I could give it to him before I left for home. His birthday’s not ’til the 20th of this month, but I’d seen a Life is Good t-shirt at the Kittery Trading Post the day before, so I wanted to give it to him since I never get to see him open his presents. We got back to my parents’ house and hung around for a while, and after a while people started showing up. Debbie bought Brian a Duct Tape calendar for $2 in Kittery. He was fascinated by it. He’s already pretty handy to have around, but I’m telling you – when this kid grows up, he’s going to be the handiest handyman around. He’ll probably build his own house out of mud and sticks, and it will be a MANSION. Someone tell me what this plant is. I want one. Unless it’s poisonous to cats. And then I want two. (Heh! Kidding!) “You pipple giffs me zee headache.” “Who weel trow zee ball for zee Bahnjee?” The t-shirt I got for Brian. (picture taken by Debbie.) “I hate you people and your flashy things.” (picture taken by Debbie.) People didn’t hang around too long; in fact, I think everyone cleared out by a little after 7. We planned to meet up at The Old Country Buffet in South Portland for a late breakfast, because 1. It being Sunday, it’s the law that you must go out for breakfast. and 2. The spud’s flight for home was leaving a little after 1:00. (I don’t know if I mentioned this, but when I was buying tickets for the spud and I, it ended up being about $600 more if I fixed it so we were on the same flight home, whereas if I left the day after she did, it was $600 less. She had to be home on Monday to pick up her schedule for school, and she’s almost 18 and has flown all over the place by herself, so I opted for the cheaper tickets.) I was poking around in the refrigerator looking for a snack around 8:00 when my father told me “You can have anything but that lobster in there!” Thursday, when we had lobster for lunch, the spud and I each had two lobsters, but my parents only had one apiece, and put the other two in the refrigerator to eat at a later date. I said to my father, “Didn’t you know it’s a crime in the state of Maine to leave a lobster in the refrigerator for more than 24 hours?” and he said “You can have it if you want, I probably won’t eat it.” He didn’t have to say THAT twice, so I had cold lobster for a snack and it was DIVINE. We went to the airport, and my mother waited in the car with Mireya while I went inside with the spud. Since she’s still a minor (for a few more months!), I got a pass to go back to the gate with the spud. I made sure she was sitting in front of the right gate and was all settled, told her we would stay in the Portland area until her flight took off, and that I’d have my cell phone with me, and to call if there were any problems, and hugged her good-bye. My mother, Mireya, and I went to the Maine Mall, where we walked around and looked in a few stores. There was nothing we hadn’t seen just the week before, so we mostly wandered around while waiting for the spud to call and tell us she’d boarded the plane. Except that instead of calling and telling me she’d boarded the plane, she called and said “They made an announcement and I don’t know what they said. Something about connecting flights.” So I said “Is there someone in a uniform standing near the gate?” And the conversation went on, pointlessly, for a few minutes before I finally just said “Well, we’re headed toward Lisbon Falls. Call when you’re boarding and call if there are any problems.” I was gambling that there wouldn’t be any more problems, but even if there was, Lisbon Falls is only about half an hour from the airport, so it isn’t like the spud would have to cool her heels for hours while waiting for us to come back. And I was tired of hanging around the airport. So we headed back toward Lisbon Falls, and when we were almost there, the spud called to let me know they were boarding her plane. I told her to call me from Cincinnati if she had the chance, and we hung up. We were originally supposed to have dinner at Tracy’s house, he was going to make chili, but by the time he got groceries and got home, it was too late to make the chili – it needs to cook for something like six hours – so we said we’d do it another time. Hummingbird outside the kitchen window. Liz called to see what I was doing, and asked if I wanted to go to Brunswick with her. I didn’t really want to hang around the house – my mother looked like she was ready for some quiet napping-on-the-couch time – so I told her I’d love to go to Brunswick with her. We ended up dropping Mireya off at Debbie’s house so Tracy could pick her up there, and wouldn’t have to go all the way to my parents’ house, and then we were on our way to Brunswick. We had dinner at Applebee’s first; Liz had something I don’t remember, with a side of coconut shrimp, one of which she gave me, and it was really good. I ended up with a dish that had garlic asiago chicken (WAY too salty, but also somehow bland. Don’t ask me how they did that.) and butterfly shrimp on the side. If I could eat shrimp for breakfast, lobster for lunch and shrimp and lobster for dinner every day, I’d die a very happy woman. When we were done eating, we went over to Wal-Mart to do a little shopping. Liz had a grocery list of stuff she needed, and I picked up a few things I didn’t really need, but that’s never really stopped me, has it? I think we spent about half an hour in Wal-Mart, watching people and talking, and slowly shopping, before we left. We stopped at Debbie’s to drop off a hamburger for Brian (he’d requested we get a burger from Applebee’s for him). Debbie was sleeping on the couch, so Liz quickly checked her email, and I went up to say good-bye to Brian, since I was leaving for home the next day, and then Liz dropped me off and told me to give her a call when I got home. Later that evening, I was poking around looking for a snack AGAIN, and my mother told me I could have her lobster, which was still sitting in the refrigerator. Suh. Weet! That was the second night in a row I’d eaten cold lobster for a snack, and it’s a snack I HIGHLY recommend. I ended up eating a side of tuna salad (my mother’s tuna salad is basically twirly pasta, tuna, mayo, onion, and green peppers), which was odd, because I haven’t been able to stand the thought of eating tuna salad in years. I ate too much tuna as a kid, I think, and as an adult I haven’t had it even once. But I tried it at the cookout Saturday night, and it really hit the spot. In fact, I ate the rest of the tuna salad with a scrambled egg for breakfast the next morning after I showered and finished packing. I don’t like green peppers, so I just pushed the pieces of green pepper to the side and ate the rest. Since my flight wasn’t leaving until mid-afternoon, I had a chance to go to the post office (I had a couple of packages to mail home) and then I drove into Durham so I could go down Shiloh Road and take a couple of pictures of the Shiloh Chapel. This yellow house is directly across the street from the Shiloh Chapel. Very “me”, dontchathink? I went back to my parents house, and we hung out until about noon, when my mother and I went to The Muddy Rudder for lunch (I had a lobster wrap, which isn’t on the menu, but they’ll happily make it for you), and then went from there to the airport. We ended up at the airport about 45 minutes earlier than I would have liked, but I had the laptop with me, and figured there’d be a wireless connection I could hook up to, plus I had a couple of books with me, so I knew the time would go by quickly. (By the way, have I mentioned I hate the laptop? Not because it’s a bad laptop – it’s a good one – but because it is SO FUCKING HEAVY that it kills me to carry the fucking thing around. I need one half the size and a third of the weight. I swear, if I took the laptop in to my physical therapist and told her I had to carry it around the airport, she would GASP IN HORROR.) I was able to hook up to the wireless network, and I actually ended up in the “business center” at a desk, where I surfed the web and listened to someone talk VERY LOUDLY on his cellphone (“Did I mention I’m important?“). Luckily, I ended up in a row of seats by myself on the flight from Maine to Atlanta, and so I spent most of the time reading, drinking water, and listening to other peoples’ conversations. Despite the fact that I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and had a fleece jacket on top of that, I was still cold, so I moved over so that I was sitting by the window, and the sun was shining directly on me, which helped a lot. The trip from Atlanta to Huntsville wasn’t bad, though I had to sit directly next to someone, because the plane was packed. But because I weigh quite a bit less than I used to, it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as it used to be. The guy sitting next to me was kind of a big guy and encroached on my space a bit, but you know what? That didn’t bother me nearly as much as it would have if I’d been encroaching on his space. Weird, huh? We made it to Huntsville on time – if not a little early – and I got my luggage and met Fred outside. We stopped at Applebee’s so I could pick up a salad, and got home just in time to lay down and talk for a while, before Fred headed off to bed and I came downstairs to check my email and start going through the mail that had come while I was gone. DAMN it was good to be home. And it still is! (All of today’s uploaded pictures can be seen here.) * * * Previously 2005: God, I love the internet. 2004: Three days into the school year, and I’m sick to death of bus issues. 2003: My weekend can be summed up thusly: long periods of mind-numbing tedium broken with a stretch of horrified disgust, with a soupcon of panic tossed in for good measure. 2002: Maine recap. 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry.]]>

I let my mother pick out my color, ’cause there were way too many choices, and I was overwhelmed. My mother and I were standing in her closet and she opened a drawer filled with jewelry (she has jewelry for DAYS, too. At least two drawers full, and we’re not talking little drawers, either, we’re talking big, deep drawers) and I started trying on rings, asking her questions about various rings, where they came from, all that. I tried on the ring above and it fit perfectly, and I modeled it for her… and then she told me I could have it, if I wanted. Of COURSE I wanted. I fell in love with that ring as soon as I saw it, but I certainly never thought she’d just up and give it to me. Another side note about the pictures above. While I was in Maine, my ankles were SO FREAKIN’ SWOLLEN, especially the left one, that I swear to god it looked like they were wearing fat suits. My feet aren’t usually quite so swollen, and neither are my hands. In fact, my grandmother’s ring? I had to move it over to my middle finger, ’cause it’s too big for my ring finger. I still wear it every day, though. I LOVE THAT DAMN RING. Seriously? Seriously, folks? I never EVER thought I’d be this attached to jewelry that isn’t my engagement ring or wedding band. It’s like I’m turning into some sentimental type person I’ve never been before. Maybe it comes with getting old(er)? After our mani/ pedis, we headed back to my parents’ house where I either woke up the spud, or she was already up (I don’t recall), and then for lunch we had… lobster! My god how I love lobster. I could easily eat sixteen lobsters every single day and never ever get sick of them, I swear I could. We hung around the house for a little while, basically waiting for the corn I’d eaten to go through my system (though I lamely said “Well, let’s let our lunch settle!”, not that I was fooling anyone, I’m sure), and then my mother, the spud and I headed to Portland to walk around the Back Cove. I’ve actually never walked around the Back Cove, although every year when I visit, I always say “Next year we need to walk around the Back Cove!” Well, this year we did it. It was a nice walk (about 3 1/2 miles long), but it seemed kind of eternal, because it was hot as hell. And you know when I’m saying it’s hot, it must be like burning in the flames of Hell. Part of the path goes along the highway (95, if I recall correctly). On the other side of the highway, the B & M Baked Beans factory. And you can TELL they’re canning baked beans in there, ’cause it smells like a giant fart. But in a good way. Someone tell me what this is. Across the Back Cove. We took Benjie with us. After about three steps, he was a panting motherfucker. I bet it’s even hotter if you’re wearing a fur coat. Waiting for my mother to come out of the port-a-potty. She reported that it was nasty as hell, so we went across the street to Hanaford Brother’s (previously known as Shop ‘n Save) so I could use the bathroom. I used way too many port-a-potties on this trip, for the record, and if I never have to use another one in my LIFE, it’ll be too soon. What’s worse, having to use a port-a-potty, or having to use a port-a-potty WHILE YOU’RE HAVING YOUR PERIOD? I don’t know what this tree is, but it’s purty. Originally, the idea was that when we left Portland, we’d go back to my parents’ house, hang out for a little while, and then Debbie and Liz and I were going to go to The Seabasket for dinner, and maybe a few other places. We ended up having my mother drop me off at Debbie’s house, where we waited for Liz to show up, and then we headed out to The Seabasket. On the way to Debbie’s house, we were passed by this car on the highway. Which IMMEDIATELY made me think of an episode of The Shield (see #1 on that link). I looked carefully, but saw no evidence of Georgia joy juice, though. The Seabasket – home of THE BEST seafood, ever. If you’re going to Maine and will be anywhere within an hour, say, of Wiscasset, you’ve really gotta eat here. Make sure you check to see they’re open, though – they’re closed on Sundays and Mondays. I had the lobster roll and an unsweetened iced tea, which I highly recommend, and I recommend the lobster stew (wouldn’t have been a good choice for me, though, since I’m pretty sure it would have given me an upset stomach), but really – anything at all you get here is going to be damn fine. After we left The Seabasket, we went directly across the street to Big Al’s SuperValues store. It’s a huge store inside, and you just never know what you’re going to find. I ended up buying several sets of metal skewers, because they were so cheap (less than $1 for 6, I believe) and when we have grilled shrimp, the five skewers we already have just aren’t enough. At one point I found a chef’s hat, put it on, and walked up behind Liz to say “Shut it DOWN!” (We’re both fans of Hell’s Kitchen, and “Shut it down!” is something Gordon Ramsay says a LOT in the first several shows when the contestants aren’t working up to par and no one’s getting served, and he has a hissy fit and shuts down the kitchen.) Liz turned around, looked at me, and laughed LOUDLY. And the rest of the time we were in there I’d hear her giggling quietly about it, which would make me giggle, and then I’d have to walk away so I wouldn’t start guffawing. Yes, we’re dorks. Liz ended up buying the chef’s hat and wearing it for the rest of the evening and would randomly yell out “Shut it DOWN!” We stopped at Bookland in Brunswick so I could see if they had a paperback copy of I Know This Much is True (which I’ve read, but was overcome with the urge to read again). They did, and I ended up browsing through the store, and then Debbie called me on my cell phone and said “Liz says if you don’t come out here right now, she’s going to come in and yell “Stop looking at the porn, Robyn! Shut it DOWN!”, and I could hear Liz in the background giggling madly. I finished looking, paid for my purchases, and ran out the door, ’cause I KNEW she’d do it if I gave her reason to at all. We stopped by Shaw’s (a grocery store) because I’d run out of Splenda packets (I put Splenda in my iced tea in restaurants; not all restaurants have Splenda packets on the table, so I’ve taken to carrying a handful around in my purse), and I bought some of those, and water, and some nuts as well. Then we went back to Debbie’s and hung out for a little while, while Liz checked her email and signed up for something online. We left Debbie’s, and Liz dropped me off at my parents’, where I talked to Fred briefly and then fell, exhausted, into bed. All of today’s uploaded pictures can be seen here. Also, I’m going to add yesterday’s pictures to Flickr at some point today, I just need to go through them and edit a little. (The last of the recap will be up tomorrow!)

* * * Previously 2005: I’m going to kill my husband. 2004: “THIS IS NOT THE FRONT OF THE SCHOOL,” I said. “THIS IS THE SIDE.” 2003: No entry. 2002: Stop making those gagging noises. 2001: Is it just me, or does Mother Nature not like it when the spud or I fly? 2000: No entry.]]>

these cats. We spent quite a lot of time in Reny’s – we usually do, because it’s a discount store, and they have a ton of stuff for pretty cheap, and after you’re in there for half an hour or so, you always wish you needed a bunch of cheap plastic cups or coffee mugs, because they are SUCH a bargain. I think I ended up just buying post cards and some canned lobster stew (which I mailed home, and which is still sitting in the pantry, because I’m not sure that canned lobster stew could possibly stand up to the real stuff), and then we moved on to a store a few doors down, the name of which I can never recall. They have cool stuff, but it tends to be expensive. Bumper stickers I didn’t buy. (An aside on books: I got all excited when I was in Sam’s last week, because it appeared that there was a brand new Harlan Coben hardcover out, and I thought my god in heaven, how much writing does this man DO? The new Myron Bolitar only came out a few months ago!, then I looked closer and saw that it was a re-release of the first Myron Bolitar. So if you’ve read all the Myron Bolitar books, don’t be deceived if you see Deal Breaker in the stores. It’s not a new book, it’s a re-release!) So we left the restaurant and headed for Magnolia, which is one of my favorite places to shop in Maine. They have those really rude Anne Taintor cards and magnets, and I could browse in that store for ages and ages. At one point while we were shopping, Liz called. We were supposed to go to The Seabasket (home of the BEST seafood EVER) that night, but she wasn’t feeling well, so we decided to go Thursday instead, and my parents, Debbie and Brian, and the spud and I opted to go to China Rose – chinese buffet, yum! – that night for dinner, and then we girls could go see The Lake House afterward. We left Bath in the early afternoon, stopping in Cook’s Corner to mail a bunch of my stuff home to Alabama (although I’d brought two suitcases, each of them about half-filled, I ended up buying a bunch of heavy bath stuff, and I was concerned that my luggage would be over weight on the way home, so opted to mail stuff home YET AGAIN). I think my parents went out and floated around in the pool for a while, and sometime in the early evening we headed for Brunswick and some good chinese food. But not before I wandered around my parents’ house and took some pictures of my favorite pieces of their furniture. My dad actually built this dry sink with his two little hands. I love it. I LOVE this. Also this. Not that we’d ever need a china cabinet, but this is the kind I’d want if we needed one. This too! I tried to stick to more protein-y options at the buffet, but something didn’t agree with me pretty quickly, and I considered just going home instead of to the movies, but I really wanted to see The Lake House (I love that Sandra Bullock) and I figured, the movie theater has a bathroom if I’m going to be sick, so I ended up going. Debbie didn’t go with us, so it was just me, my mother, and the spud. I’ve gotta say, I liked the movie. I missed about twenty minutes right in the middle of it, because I was standing in the bathroom dry-heaving, but I didn’t feel like I missed anything, and I ended up liking it. In fact, I think I’m going to rent it when it comes out on DVD so I can make sure I didn’t miss anything important. When we got home, I talked to Fred for a little while, and then went to bed. Wednesday morning I got up and showered sometime after 8, and my mother suggested that we take the spud and go down to Bailey Island, have lunch at Cook’s Restaurant, then I asked if we could continue on down to Land’s End, the shop at the end of Bailey Island, so I could see if there were more souvenirs I just had to have. We left sometime in the late morning and had lunch at Cook’s. My mother and the spud had lobster rolls, but I opted to get a steak, because I needed the protein. Their lobster rolls were apparently good, but my steak, which I ordered medium-rare, was twitching-and-mooing raw on the inside with a slightly done outside, and I ended up cutting off the outside and eating that. Not to mention that it was so bland I had to actually put SALT on it so there’d be some kind of flavor. I’ve never had to salt steak before. Serves me right for ordering steak at a seafood restaurant, I suppose. After lunch, we walked around down by the water and snapped some pictures. Note that the spud is now taller than I am. The cribstone bridge. After walking around for a while, we got in the car and headed for Land’s End. I hadn’t been down to Land’s End for years and years – probably not since I took a couple of my favorite pictures of the spud when she was a wee one in ’90. We spent quite a while looking around in Land’s End, and I ended up buying myself a fleece jacket. In size XL. And it fit! Then we went outside so I could take some pictures. Eventually a bus o’ tourists showed up, so we left and headed back toward my parents’ house. ]]>

I took a picture of this shirt for Liz, who’s a Red Sox fan. She apparently already has it, though. Later, I bought her a bumper sticker that says “There’s no crying in baseball. Except in New York.” Heh! So Sunday morning we got up and hung around the house for a little while, before heading into South Portland to meet Debbie and Brian at The Country Buffet for breakfast. I made some pretty good choices, I think, sticking to mostly proteins with the occasional dab of carbs on the side. I got a teeny bit of corned beef hash, and Debbie made fun of me, saying “Can ya spare it?” Heh. After we ate breakfast, we waited for the mall to open, and then Debbie, my mother and I spent several hours at the mall, shopping. I ended up with way more than either of them AS USUAL, because I had to stock up on So Sexy shampoo and conditioner at Victoria’s Secret (rumor has it they’re going to be discontinuing that line of products; something the woman working there didn’t know anything about, by the way, but you can never be too careful!) (also, I’m not currently using the So Sexy line due to the fact that I’ve still got hair falling out, and I’m using Nioxin, but I’m thinking about the future), and they also had this 3-in-one shower stuff (shampoo, conditioner, shower gel) in Key Lime scent, and it smelled FANTASTIC. Unfortunately, the smell doesn’t stick with you for too long, so I’m wishing I’d gotten the Key Lime scented lotion, too. They also had watermelon, which smelled fantastic as well, so I grabbed one of those. In fact, I got two bottles of the Key Lime 3-in-1, and one bottle of the watermelon. (This is the stuff, right here. I recommend it, for the smell alone, although I didn’t care for the chocolate scent.) From there, well, we went all over the mall. My mother and I stopped in at a jewelry store, because I am an idiot, and I got it into my head that I could get a wedding band and engagement ring set to wear for the time being until I got to my goal weight and could resize my engagement ring and wedding band. I made the mistake of telling the saleslady what I was looking for, and she brought out this absolutely gorgeous set and had me try them on. I LOVED them – they were really pretty – but I could tell at a glance that even though they were 70% off, they were wayyyyyy out of my price range. The saleslady, no doubt with visions of a commission dancing in her head, figured out what the set would cost me. Over $2,000. “Yeah,” I said. “That’s a little more than I’d want to spend for a temporary set.” “How much were you looking to spend?” she asked. “A lot less than that,” I said with a smile, thinking About $50, if that much. Later, I ended up buying a couple of cheap rings at JC Penney that I could wear for the time being, but really – I think at this point it wouldn’t hurt to have my rings sized down, even if I have to do it again in another six months. I really LIKE my wedding band and engagement ring, and I want to be able to wear them. Speaking of JC Penney, I bought some earrings and rings there, and the guy working at the jewelry counter tried to get me to sign up for a JC Penney card. “No thank you,” I said with a smile. “Some people like to apply for the card, just so they can get the 10 percent off their purchase. You get ten percent off your purchase even if you’re not approved,” he said. I gave him a lower wattage smile. “No thanks.” And the fucker WENT ON. “Some people like to apply for the card, get the 10 percent off, pay off the card immediately and cancel it when it arrives in the mail!” I gave Debbie a “Do you fucking believe this guy?” look, but didn’t say anything to the guy. It’s my strict policy to say “No” no more than twice, and then if the person goes on trying to sell me on something, I look at him or her as though he (or she) has jumped up on the counter and taken a huge shit. With the transaction finally over, we walked out of JC Penney, and I said to Debbie “If Fred had been here, we would have ended up walking out and buying nothing.” Fred has even less patience for that bullshit then I do, and he doesn’t hesitate to be rude when a salesperson won’t knock it the fuck off. From the mall… well, I don’t remember what we did after the mall. We went over to TJ Maxx briefly, and I helped Debbie find some cheap bath salts (TJ Maxx is really the best place to find bath salts, especially Dead Sea salts), and puttered around for a bit before we headed home. Sunday evening Debbie was bored and I was bored, so she asked if I wanted to come over and hang out. I told my parents I was going over to Debbie’s, and Brian asked if he could come over and hang out, too (he was spending the night at my parents’ house), and so we headed over to Debbie’s. When we got there, Debbie said “We could either go rent some movies, or we could go see Click.” We opted to go see Click, which was… not great. It wasn’t what I expected it to be, and it really dragged on and on and onnnnnn. So after the movie I think we hung around Debbie’s house for a little while before I headed back to my parents’ house. It’s a Benji-dog. Monday morning I woke up early and took a shower and got dressed. The original plan for Monday was that Debbie and my mother and I were supposed to go shopping in Freeport and then go see the matinee of You, Me and Dupree. But my mother announced, on Sunday, that she didn’t want to go shopping in Freeport, so since my father was going by Debbie’s to pick up Brian, I asked if he’d drop me off at Debbie’s. Debbie’s cat Punki. Bumper sticker seen on a car. I need one! Debbie’s cat Tigger. We ended up having a good time in Freeport – I got another Healthy Back Bag at LL Bean (amongst many other things) – but we had to leave too soon to pick up Brian and meet my mother at the movies. We thought we might get something to eat, but we didn’t have time for a sit-down meal, so I got a grilled chicken sandwich at McDonald’s and Brian got… the same thing, actually, along with some fries, and we ate in the car on the way to the movie theater. On a side note, eating just the chicken from a McDonald’s chicken sandwich? Not so yummy. In case you were wondering. So You, Me and Dupree was pretty entertaining, and I got to see some nekkid Owen Wilson, which is always a bonus. I actually would like to see he and Kate Hudson in a movie together where they’re playing each others’ love interests, because I think they’d make an interesting couple. We left the movies, and my mother and I ran over to the Cook’s Corner mall so she could return something, and as we were headed home, Debbie called and asked if my mother could drop me off at her house. It seems that my brother, Tracy – who just moved to Maine a few weeks prior – was a little overwhelmed with everything that needed to be done, and he asked if we could come over and help him get his kitchen straightened out. My mother dropped me off at Debbie’s. I called my parents’ house and talked to the spud, who had arrived at my parents’ a few hours earlier. I explained to her what we were doing, told her to stay up so I could see her when I got there, and then Debbie and I left to go over to Tracy’s, after stopping at Starbuck’s on the way. The kitchen… well, Tracy had started unpacking, but I could see why it would be so overwhelming. We ended up staying there for several hours. We got everything unpacked, and then Debbie did most of the deciding where things would go and putting them there, and I did most of the washing every dish in the place – everything was covered with this weird sticky stuff, probably from being packed and stored – and by the time we were done, the place looked a lot better. Tracy seemed to feel better about having things semi-organized (though we did leave him a counter full of stuff that still needed to find a place in the kitchen or be packed away), and Debbie and I left sometime after 9. Before. After. Remember Gizmo? She’s all grown up, and a total lovebug. She’s a mighty sweet girl. I didn’t get a single damn picture of Tracy’s other cat, Dulcie, though. She let me pet her, but when I got the camera out, she was nowhere to be found, damnit. We stopped at Applebee’s on the way back to my parents’ house so we could get a couple of salads to take home with us, and then Debbie drove me to my parents’ house. The spud came up to see me, and I gave her a hug and marveled that it seemed like she’d grown three inches in the four weeks since I’d seen her. After I finished my salad, I went downstairs, talked to Fred (it’s our nightly ritual when I’m in Maine to talk for half an hour or so at 9ish Alabama time, as well as at various times throughout the day), and then went to bed. (More tomorrow!) All of today’s uploaded pictures can be seen here. ]]>

Jane? Somehow, I think not.), but they aren’t where you necessarily want to spend half an hour of your life, standing over the toilet and gagging up processed meat. Though once I barfed up a few pieces of meat, my stomach settled down and I felt better, if a tad weak. See, I’d opted to bring the laptop to Maine with me, and somehow walking all over hell and creation with my travel purse stuffed full of my contacts case, my glasses, all my medication, three books (better to have too many than not enough, I always say), all the usual assorted bullshit, AND two 1-liter bottles of water, combined with the sheer ungodly weight of the laptop case hanging off my opposite shoulder was enough to make it so that my legs weren’t willing to do much more than they had to. And when I had to go up a flight of stairs, my fucking right leg almost went out from underneath me, but with my lightning-quick reflexes ( :snort: ) I grabbed onto the railing and forced myself to stay upright. Anyway. So I was sitting in the airport, trying to figure out how to use the laptop, since there were signs everywhere saying that the entire airport was a hotspot (hot spot? I don’t know whether it’s one word or not.) and people everywhere were using their laptops. Only, I couldn’t connect to Google or anything, so I gave up without much of a fight and sat there looking around me enviously at the people with the much smaller laptops who didn’t have to deal with sore shoulders for three days after lugging the goddamn thing through the airport LIKE I DID. Then they announced over the loudspeaker that the flight was oversold and they were looking for someone to give up their seat and take a flight the next morning. Giving up your seat would net you a $300 flight voucher, good for a flight anywhere in the continental US, a voucher for a hotel room, and meal vouchers. Why the holy fucking hell I didn’t jump on that, I have no fucking clue. I waffled about it each time they made the announcement, and I thought about calling Debbie (who was going to be picking me up at the airport at 11 pm) and asking her opinion, and then I waffled so long that other people gave up their seats. I vowed, however, that if they oversold on my flight home, I’d give up my seat without a second thought. The flight from Cincinnati left on time and I was happy because (1) Losing 115 pounds means you have more room in your seat AND you don’t need seatbelt extenders (2) I was in a single seat by myself (the plane being small, there were two seats on the left side and one seat on the right). I was unhappy because (1) My seat was the last row in the plane, which meant that I was directly in front of the bathroom, and (2) GODDAMN those airline toilets can stink to high heaven. Anyway, we took off from Cincinnati, and I took several thousand pictures of the sunset, because I always carry my camera with me when I’m flying. I know there are people who prefer to pack their cameras, because I’ve SEEN their cameras at the Unclaimed Baggage store. Why anyone would pack any kind of electronic equipment – laptop, camera, iPod – instead of carrying it with them, I don’t for one second understand. The flight was pretty uneventful, except for the fact that I got freezing cold about halfway through the flight, put on my jacket (see? I’m no dummy. I knew I was going to get cold!), and immediately the flight attendant turned on the heat and I started sweltering. (But I wasn’t complaining, because one of the many oddities of having lost weight is that I would 63 times rather be hot than cold.) We landed in Portland on time – if not a little early – and I was pretty much the last one off the plane. I called to let Fred know I’d arrived, and then headed off the plane and across the concrete toward the set of stairs leading to my gate. And the goddamn camera fell out of my purse and landed on the concrete, and the fucking thing shattered like you wouldn’t believe. I immediately called Fred and said “You. Are. Going. To. KILL ME.” but he remained really pretty calm, and we discussed how I could look for a camera at Best Buy or Staples the next day, but use my father’s camera (he has the exact same model we have) until then. I got my luggage as it came off the carousel (and how impressed am I that Portland now has THREE luggage carousels? SO VERY impressed, I am.), and was just headed toward the door to bring my luggage outside and call Debbie (we’d agreed I’d just call her when I had my luggage) when I said “Huh. That kid looks just like Brian, only Brian isn’t THAT tall!”, and then I realized that it was, in fact, Brian and he was looking around, talking on his cell phone, and looking puzzled. He finally saw me grinning like a buffoon at him and did a double-take. “Who are you and what have you done with my Aunt?” he said, as I gave him a hug. Debbie was out in the short-term parking lot where someone has to stay with the car, and after I gave her a hug, we loaded my luggage in the car (did I mention that I brought two bags with me so I wouldn’t have to mail a big box o’ stuff home? HA.) and headed for Lisbon Falls, but not before stopping at a Big Apple (similar to a 7-11, for those of you not in the area where they have Big Apples) to try to find something I could eat. I ended up buying a Slim Jim-type meat stick and cheese stick, took two bites, and tossed the rest. We got to my parents’ house pretty late. My father was still up, but my mother had gone to bed. We talked for a few minutes, and then I popped out my contacts, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. For once, I didn’t sleep very well in my parents’ basement. It’s so dark and quiet down there that I usually sleep like a rock, but I tossed and turned for most of the night, finally giving up and getting up around 7 or so the next morning. (When I was 17, I actually worked down near 5 Islands. On Malden Island, to be exact. If you go here and look at that picture, the island you see off to the right is Malden Island. Or if you go look at this picture, that gray building in the distant background was the kitchen/ dining room building for Malden Island; Malden Island itself is to the left.) Friday, I don’t really remember what we did. I think we went shopping to various places – maybe in the Brunswick area; that might be the day we hit some stores in the Cook’s Corner region. I got some pants and a shirt at Fashion Bug, a metric ton of bath crap at TJ Maxx, and a bunch of extremely cheap t-shirts (among other things) at Wal-Mart. We had lunch at Applebee’s, then headed home for a little while before we got ready to go to the movies. Liz met us at the theater, and Debbie’s friend joined us as well, so it was quite a little crowd of us. (Liz hugged me when I saw her at the theater then called me a bitch because I now weigh less than her. Heh!) We saw The Devil Wears Prada Friday night, and I really liked it. I have to say, Meryl Streep looked FABULOUS and she did a really good job in that role. Ann Hathaway is just about the cutest thing around, and I really liked her in that role, and it was a bonus to see Vince from Entourage, and Franco from Rescue Me. After the movie we stood out in front of the movie theater for 15 or 20 minutes, just talking. My mother finally headed home, and I got a ride from Liz, who had to go through Lisbon Falls to get home in Lewiston, so we stopped at Debbie’s to get her car, and then she dropped me off at home. Debbie’s cats – Punki (the dilute calico) and Tigger (the orange cutie). (Eagle Island, former summer home of Admiral Robert E. Peary; currently maintained as a state park.) (Little Mark Island Monument; constructed in 1827 as a memorial to shipwrecked sailors. Food and water once stored in the base to assist marooned seamen.) So once the cruise was over, we went over to Cook’s Restaurant to have lunch, because we were both hungry. Cook’s is a seafood place and we talked about getting lobster, but I wasn’t in the mood to take a lobster apart, so I ended up ordering the lobster casserole, which was lobster, surprisingly enough, in a casserole. Basically, it was covered with sauce and 63 pounds of bread crumbs. I got that and the house salad, and a side of coleslaw, and while the salad was good and the coleslaw wasn’t bad, the lobster casserole wasn’t all that. Once I got the breadcrumbs pushed off, the sauce the lobster was in was good, but the lobster itself was overcooked. At least the tea was really good, I’ll say that. We left Cook’s to head toward the strip mall where my mother gets her manicures and pedicures, but about halfway there, the salad I’d eaten with lunch was starting to go through me, so we decided to go for the mani/ pedi later in the week, and just went home. Debbie and Brian were at the house when we got there, and we sat downstairs and talked (and I surfed online a little from my laptop, still trying to get it to hook up with my father’s wireless network, which just really wasn’t working, and I couldn’t figure out WHY). Debbie and I were supposed to meet up with Liz – we were going to see Click. “There’s nothing I want to do less than go see this movie tonight,” Debbie said. “I’m with you,” I said. “Let’s go get dinner!” We ended up going to Be@le Str33t BBQ in Bath (when I told Fred where we’d gone later, he said “Stop right there. There’s no such thing as Memphis Barbeque in MAINE.” Heh.), and the place was hoppin’ but the food… not so much. I was unimpressed; I think we all were, really. We went back to Debbie’s and hung out for a little while, then Liz and I left, and Liz dropped me off at my parents’ on the way through Lisbon Falls. More tomorrow! All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. ]]>

* * * This weekend, there’s a state tax exemption in Alabama. People are losing their SHIT because if they buy anything that can possibly be construed as a school supply, they don’t have to pay state tax on it, which I believe is a savings of 5% (someone correct me if I’m wrong). I went to Sam’s yesterday after my ultrasound (more on that in a minute), and it was PACKED. People were buying clothes, paper, markers, backpacks, all the usual stuff. Unfortunately for me, frozen shrimp and bottled water is apparently not considered a school supply. I noticed on the way home that there were WAY more people on the road than there usually are at 1 in the afternoon. The traffic going from Madison toward Huntsville was backed up for miles. I’m fairly certain people were running willy-nilly from store to store, saving 5% on all their purchases. People love a bargain. I thought about going to Kohl’s this weekend and going on a bra try-on marathon, just trying on bra after bra after bra until I found one which fit well and I liked, but the very idea makes me tired. Maybe next week. Also, I read in Self magazine that you should be re-fitted for a bra every time you gain or lose five pounds. Ha!

* * * So I went for my liver ultrasound yesterday morning. I couldn’t eat or drink for six hours – SIX HOURS! – before the test, which means that when I pulled up to the imaging center I was thirsty as hell, since I usually drink at least a liter of water by noon. I went inside and read for a few minutes (I was about twenty minutes early) and then the sonigramist (?) called me back and asked me a few questions. I opted to just pull my shirt up rather than take it off and put on a gown, because I figured the sooner we got this show on the road, the sooner I could drink some damn water. During the sonogram, the tech asked me, in several different ways, if I was having any abdominal pain. In fact, she asked so often that I got the distinct impression that she was seeing something that was supposed to be causing me pain. Which made me feel slightly guilty, as though I were in serious pain and just lying about it. And which also made me wonder if I was actually in pain and just didn’t realize it. (But after a discussion with my guts, I SWEAR TO GOD I’M NOT IN PAIN. I swear I’m not lying! I’m not!) At one point the tech pushed down with the sonogram wand (or whatever it’s called) directly on my stomach, and my stomach made an internal noise that sounded like nothing so much as a muted belch. I tried not to laugh, but I’m sure I had a dorky grin on my face. Anyway, I predict that I’ll hear from the doctor early next week and he’ll say that I need to have my gallbladder out. Because after all these doctor visits this week, you know that SOMETHING’s gonna have to come out. I think it’s an insurance requirement. * * * A lot of you mentioned sleep apnea in my comments for yesterday’s entry. Back in the first few years after Fred and I became a couple, we’d be laying in bed talking, both of us wide awake, and there’d be a few minutes of silence. And Fred would breathe and breathe and breathe and breathe… and then not. It wasn’t a matter of him just breathing quietly – he just wasn’t breathing at ALL, and I’d notice it immediately, because it would be so quiet, and after thirty seconds or a minute of the silence, I’d nudge him, hard, and say “BREATHE, already.” And he’d gasp for air. And he was WIDE AWAKE when this was happening, and just not aware that he wasn’t breathing. I’d try not to say anything to him, and sometimes I’d successfully wait him out, and he’d start gasping for air and breathing again on his own. Sometimes I’d start holding my breath when he started holding his, and it would go on for an impossible amount of time, and I’d have to gasp for air and start breathing again, and he’d keep holding his breath for what seemed like FOREVER before he started breathing again. It freaked me the hell out. Again, he had NO IDEA he was doing it while it was going on. It wasn’t constant, and it wasn’t even every night, but it was often enough that I can clearly remember laying there and waiting for him to start breathing again. Now, I can’t believe that I didn’t nag the hell out of him to go see a doctor and have a sleep test done, because if he was doing that while he was awake, I don’t even want to think about what he was doing while he was asleep. I guess I’m lucky he’s still alive. Like he said in my comments yesterday, the upside to having separate beds in separate rooms is that we’ll never wake up with a dead person next to us! (And he hasn’t done the holding-his-breath thing since he lost all that weight.) * * * These two cats are Whiskers (the calico) and her “baby” (the black and white). They “belong” to people who live a few doors down from my sister, but their owners refuse to let them inside the house. According to the owners, the cats don’t want to go inside, but every time anyone in the vicinity opens a door, the cats come running. Whiskers isn’t really the kitten’s mother – but they’re so attached to each other that everyone calls the kitten Whiskers’ baby. Whiskers is 8 or 9 years old, and my sister is pretty sure she’s been spayed. The kitten is about 6 months old, and hasn’t been spayed. Her name is something like Roxxie or Rozzie. They are very, very sweet cats. If anyone in the vicinity of Topsham, Maine (right next to Brunswick) is interested in adopting two sweet cats who deserve owners who WANT to be their owners, let me know and I’ll pass your information on to my sister. No one in my sister’s apartment complex can afford to take on Whiskers and her baby right now; they’re a bunch of cat lovers, and pretty much all at their limits when it comes to how many cats they can have. * * * This morning Fred decided he just wasn’t up for going for a hike (I fell over in a dead faint for a moment when I heard that, believe you me), so he went out and mowed the lawn, and I took advantage of the fact that he was out of the way and that the spud was still sleeping, to vacuum the entire house. (Yes, I vacuumed RIGHT OUTSIDE the spud’s bedroom door while she was sleeping, or at least trying to. Because it was 10:00, and people, Momma don’t give a shit WHO is sleeping at that time of day; if there’s vacuuming to be done, it’s gonna get done.) When Fred was done mowing the lawn, he came in and asked how much more vacuuming I had to do. When I asked why, he suggested that we go visit Uncle Charlie’s Flea Market, which is about an hour from Madison. I finished vacuuming, took a shower and got dressed (and perhaps there was a little hanky-panky in there as well, which I will neither CONFIRM NOR DENY; but Fred did say “You better not be giving me some horrid liver disease!” The man KNOWS romantic conversation, doesn’t he?) and we left. We got to Uncle Charlie’s Flea Market, and I’ve gotta say: It kinda sucked. There wasn’t much there, though we did buy an F. Paul Wilson hardcover book for $1 AND we found a penny, so it wasn’t a completely wasted trip. Like Fred said “We spent $10 in gas to buy a book that cost us 99 cents.” Fred was hungry, so we headed home, keeping an eye out for restaurants on the way. We ended up at a little Mexican restaurant (there are more Mexican restaurants in this area than all the other types of restaurants combined, I think), and the food ended up being really pretty good. I got a quesadilla with shrimp, onions, and cheese, and I liked it a LOT. We headed toward home, stopping at a produce stand to buy a green pepper (more 3-bean salad is on the horizon; Fred loves that stuff), and then we drove out into the country to see what was for sale, land-wise and house-wise. We’ve been talking about starting to seriously look for a house now so that we have an idea of what’s out there and available before we put our house up for sale. The value of our house has gone up quite a bit since we refinanced last year, and rumor has it that they’re closing a base in Washington and transferring 10,000 people to this area, so chances are good we’ll end up making a good chunk of money on this house. Or so we hope. We’re looking for a house on 5 – 10 acres of land, because we have BIG PLANZ for that land, plans that include a pond, an orchard, and a vegetable garden. We talked about buying land and building a house on it, but apparently not only have the prices of houses gone up, so have the costs of building a house. Anyway, we drove out into the country to see what was out there (every time we passed a big-ass plot of land covered by growing soybeans or cotton, Fred would point to it and say “We should find out who owns that and see if they’ll sell us 5 acres!”). We stopped at home to use the bathroom, then went back out to drive into the country in another direction to see what was out there. Basically, we drove all over hell and creation, just looking at the houses and subdivisions we passed. It was a nice way to pass an afternoon, actually. We’re going to have the realtor over (the one who sold us this house) next week so he can look our house over and tell us what needs to be done to it before we put it up for sale. My prediction: We need to finish painting the trim (FRED), replace the nasty-ass carpet, and check to see if the window where we installed the cat door needs to be replaced. We shall see… * * * The t-shirt I wore today. Every single time I wear something pink, I think of Catie. I even wore a matching pink ring and pink earrings. Oh, and my Keds were pink, too. I was pink as pink could be! We had a very strong windstorm yesterday (it actually knocked the neighbor’s tree the rest of the way over) and Sugarbutt was absolutely fascinated by the leaves blowing around in the front yard. He stood like this for at least fifteen minutes, mesmerized. * * * Previously 2005: That Jane, she’s a smart and wily one. 2004: No, there are no current plans for Fredbyn offspring. 2003: I think we’re going to change Miz Poo’s name to Miz Money Pit. 2002: No entry. 2001: Picture entry. 2000: The word of the day is shopping.]]>

* * * My husband is a freak, but a sweet one. Ever since my doctor’s appointment last week where she told me I had hepatitis, he’s been worrying about me. I mean, he’s been joking too, because that’s the way we are. “Do you think you’re on the verge of death because (insert ridiculous reason here – ie, “because you eat too many vegetables”, “because you lost so much weight so fast”, “because we have so many cats”, etc etc).” “I’m not on the verge of death.” “Yes you are. You’re going to die and in a few years I’m going to be the creepy guy in the bar looking for another wife so I don’t have to be alone,” he says. “Awww, baby, I’m sure you can sucker some poor unsuspecting woman into your web of lies and convince her to move 1500 miles to be with you. You did it once!” “This is true.” He’s been worrying about me so much, it’s become annoying. Every visit to the bathroom, every shade of yellow I do or don’t turn, every patch of dry skin, every time I fall asleep in front of the TV. It’s ’cause I’m dying. (We actually discussed what he should do with my ashes. He rejected the notion that he should mix them with a can of paint and paint the bedroom with them. CLEARLY HE DOES NOT LOVE ME. I decided that he should toss a handful of ashes at sea in Maine, then spend the next year going on interesting hikes and scattering a handful on top of each mountain he hikes. Maybe bury a handful of ashes in the family plot my parents purchased awhile ago.) I should take a moment here to reassure you all – especially the spud – that I AM NOT ON THE VERGE OF DEATH. I’m going to outlive you all (except the spud). I have no plans to go anywhere, thank you. The other morning I was in a deep, deep sleep when I felt someone shaking me. I thought it was Sugarbutt doing that annoying thing cats do, where they stretch out alongside you, then begin vigorously grooming themselves, thus shaking you, the bed, and every other cat in the vicinity. I opened my eyes to see what the hell he was doing, and jumped when I saw Fred standing over me. “What the hell?” I said. “Jesus CHRIST you scared the SHIT out of me!” he said, reeling around and clutching at his chest. I reflected for a moment that I wasn’t hovering over him in the dead of night, so I didn’t know how I could have possibly scared him. “I came in, and I couldn’t hear you breathing,” he went on to explain. “So I leaned over and listened and didn’t hear you breathing still. I turned on the bathroom light and looked, and it didn’t look like you were breathing, so I put my hand in front of your mouth, and I didn’t feel any breath on my hand. Which is when I shook you. DON’T DO THAT TO ME!” “You should’ve just shook me in the first place,” I said. “I would have turned over, and you would’ve known I was alive.” “Yeah, well, I’d APPRECIATE IT if you could manage to make some noise when you breathe in the future!” “I’ll do my best,” I promised. He’s also worried that I’m still losing weight too fast and that I’ll fade away to nothing. “You better not up and die on me,” he always says threateningly. And I promise not to.

* * * So my appointment yesterday ended up not so much being with the nutritionist as the woman who manages the bariatric coordination center. It was just kind of a touch-base appointment where she could weigh me, ask how I was feeling, and hand me a sheet of paper talking about foods with high and low glycemic index numbers, along with lists of high, medium, and low GI foods. (I typed it in here.) Anyway, of course the first they do is weigh you, and when they come out to get you, they’ve checked your file and written down on a piece of paper how much you weighed at your preop appointment. When I stepped on the scale, I swear the manager came thisclose to swooning. She made me step off the scale and back on to make sure I wasn’t somehow levitating above the scale, I guess, and I got the same number the second time. “That’s AMAZING!” she said, a huge grin on her face. “That’s the best weight loss I’ve ever seen from a woman!” She went on to point out that of course people who started with a BMI of 70 had lost more than that in six months, but that my level of weight loss, with my BMI and how much I had to lose, was on par with most of the men they have in the office. She was thrilled, and told me she couldn’t wait to tell the nutritionist. Of course, after a while I wanted to say “Yeah, yeah, I’ve lost a lot of weight. LET’S MOVE ON.” I didn’t actually say it, but we did eventually move on to other topics. She had weight loss surgery five years ago and just a few months ago had the loose skin from her upper arms removed. She had a pretty good experience, though she got a couple of infected stitches and had to pack them, which wasn’t much fun. She showed me the scar on one arm, and it didn’t look bad at all. She asked how quickly I’m losing, then told me that it tends to slow down after the 6-month point (which I knew), but that if in a month I’m still losing fast, to call and talk to the nutritionist. I told her that Fred’s afraid I’m going to fade away to nothing, and she said that’s a fear a lot of people can have, but it’s rarely a problem. I’d hate to be the exception on that; I think the skeletal look wouldn’t work well on me. I stopped on the way out to buy some more multi-vitamins and calcium, and was on my way. I stopped at the mall on the way home to check out Lane Bryant’s bras, which was a pointless exercise, and then I looked at their jeans, which was even more pointless, because I don’t need no damn $70 jeans. I wandered through the mall a little more, dodged the people giving out samples of food in the food court (!), and headed for home. Later today I have my ultrasound appointment for my liver, and then next Tuesday I have an appointment to have the skin tag removed from the back of my neck, and then HOPEFULLY I’ll be done with the medical shit for the time being. A girl can dream, anyway. * * * Fred sent me this link a few days ago, and it makes me sad, sad, sad. Especially this quote: “A breast is a breast — it’s a sexual thing. He didn’t need to see that.” What an idiot you are, Gayle Ash of Belton, Texas. There is NOTHING sexual about that image, and I would guess that it’s a product of your sad, stupid little mind that sees it as such. For the love of god – you see skin and a baby. The only reason you know it’s a breast is because the cover talks about nursing. For the record, your 13 year-old son? Ten bucks says he’s already beat off to the underwear section of the JC Penney catalogue and most likely his reaction to a picture of a baby nursing would be “Ewww”, since you’re so intent on teaching him that breasts are sexual and have no function in the world except to turn on the 13 year-old sons of an idiot such as yourself. Breasts don’t, in fact, exist to titillate (HEE!). They exist to nourish babies. Get a fucking clue, Gayle Ash of Belton, Texas, Dumbass Extraordinaire. * * * From my comments: Very respectable pulse rate and blood pressure. Is that from all the walking or are you always in that range? I think it must be from the walking and the weight loss. Before I had surgery, my blood pressure was high. In fact, my doctor told me that if I wasn’t pursuing weight loss surgery, she would have suggested blood pressure medication. I don’t remember what my pulse rate was before surgery, but I’m taking metoprolol to control heart palpitations, which can lower your pulse rate a little. I got your postcard from Maine today! Thank you! I’m curious – did you write the same thing on all the ones you sent, or did you change it up on each one? 🙂 I changed it up, though not on each and every one. I’d come up with something I thought I was funny, use that for a while, then change it up after 10 or 20 cards. * * * “What the – ?” “HEY! YOU! GUUUUUUUUUYS!” All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: See that? I made a thinly veiled joke about his age! I am SO FUNNY! 2004: As for where the odd socks go – the bad ones go to hell, don’t they? 2003: Oui, I am back! Let the rejoicing begin! 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: So we were at the beach this morning by 10.]]>