Wednesday, December 09, 2015
Baby Ward
After being on bedrest in the hospital for a week, Oscar Claude Ward was born at 1 lb 9 oz (710 grams) and was 12 inches long. Oscar is now 17 inches long and weighs 3 lbs 8 oz. He is so cute, is working on a third chin, loves his pacifier, poops a lot, and wants to cuddle all the time. I love Oscar more and more every day. He is the best baby in the whole world and I can't wait to bring him home from the hospital once he's done growing.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Miracle on Lisa Ward Street
Last week I thought twice about something that's happened a fair amount during the bleed portion of my pregnancy, i.e. gushes of fluid. I've never thought much about them; I figured they were part of the bleed rearing its head. But last week as I felt another fluid gush, I thought twice.
I went in for another ultrasound Monday (I'd had one the week prior) and was called Tuesday afternoon saying I needed to come in Wednesday. "It's not an emergency," they said. "So can we talk about it over the phone?" I asked. "No, you need to come in." Blurg.
The next 24 hours were pretty excruciating. Tuesday night I focused on our brand new Drexel Declaration buffet (thank you Craigslist - p.s. this is not our house), and Wednesday I stayed focused at work. I asked God Wednesday morning that he might let my brave women (my spirit world angels) be with me all day, that they might be instructed to whisper kind things to me all day, that they might say things to build my confidence and assurance in the health of my baby.
The drive to the OB's office felt faster than usual. As always, my blood pressure was high. It always is when I go there. Dr. D. saw me right away and launched into it.
Based on Monday's ultrasound, the baby was measuring two weeks behind. Amniotic fluid was low. The placenta is detached in multiple places thanks (no thanks) to the bleed. I took the news calmly. I could feel my brave women with me, helping me. He explained some things; luckily I have researched all the possible side effects of a hematoma, so I was well aware of everything he said. Baby might be in distress and his kidneys might not be functioning well, so his fluid production is lessened, etc. A bunch of hypotheticals.
Dr. D. referred me directly to the perinatologist department at the neighboring hospital for further evaluation. I figured I'd have to wait a week. To my surprise, the office called and said come over now. I hadn't even left Dr. D's parking lot yet.
I was immediately seen by their senior-most sonographer, who has 30 years of experience. She looked at the baby's organs, his limbs, she measured him, she measured his fluid, she measured the bleed, she looked at the placenta. It was a long ultrasound. She updated me on most things as she went. The perinatologist came in to review the report. I didn't know what to expect; I just hoped Dr. D's sonographer (who I love and trust) had been wrong.
She was wrong about a few things. First, baby is measuring right on schedule. He weighs 1 lb 11 oz. His vital organs were all functioning normally, including his kidneys which produce the urine which is amniotic fluid. That said, his fluid is lower than we thought, 6 cm of fluid (normal is 8-18 cm). The cause of that is undetermined. They couldn't find a rupture in the sac membranes. The bleed is now small to medium in size, is inactive, and is located behind the placenta, so the placenta is detached where that bleed is. It's also detached in other places where the bleed once was. She measured my cervix, which had been measuring short for weeks, but she measured it above 3 cm, which is normal.
My baby and I are walking statistic breakers. There's a 1% chance of having a subchorionic bleed, and an even smaller chance of it never going away like mine. There's a 1% chance of detached placenta, about a 5% chance of shortened cervix, a 0% chance of a cervix thickening. Dr. D. told me, reassuringly, that every patient he's had that's had a bleed as large as mine as early as I did in the pregnancy ended up losing their baby. It really is nothing short of a miracle that I still have mine and that he is normal.
I felt my brave women with me all day and all through my appointments. People often look at me like I'm crazy when they ask about my pregnancy and I tell them all these horrible things. They are indeed horrible things, and I should be a basket of nerves and tears. But I'm not. I know this baby will be okay. I am learning so much more about the Lord's love, the Atonement, and how they apply to all the things we go through in life. I've wondered, How does Christ even understand what I'm going through now? He has never carried a child. But, Christ has given life to the dead. He experienced the same worries and fears and uncertainty that I am experiencing now. He can empathize with me, and that is enough for Him to know how to succor me. He has sent my brave women to me to succor me. I have been told they know what I am going through and they know how to help me. I have felt their healing hands upon me and know they are there for me when I call upon them. I love them, my brave women.
I went in for another ultrasound Monday (I'd had one the week prior) and was called Tuesday afternoon saying I needed to come in Wednesday. "It's not an emergency," they said. "So can we talk about it over the phone?" I asked. "No, you need to come in." Blurg.
The next 24 hours were pretty excruciating. Tuesday night I focused on our brand new Drexel Declaration buffet (thank you Craigslist - p.s. this is not our house), and Wednesday I stayed focused at work. I asked God Wednesday morning that he might let my brave women (my spirit world angels) be with me all day, that they might be instructed to whisper kind things to me all day, that they might say things to build my confidence and assurance in the health of my baby.
The drive to the OB's office felt faster than usual. As always, my blood pressure was high. It always is when I go there. Dr. D. saw me right away and launched into it.
Based on Monday's ultrasound, the baby was measuring two weeks behind. Amniotic fluid was low. The placenta is detached in multiple places thanks (no thanks) to the bleed. I took the news calmly. I could feel my brave women with me, helping me. He explained some things; luckily I have researched all the possible side effects of a hematoma, so I was well aware of everything he said. Baby might be in distress and his kidneys might not be functioning well, so his fluid production is lessened, etc. A bunch of hypotheticals.
Dr. D. referred me directly to the perinatologist department at the neighboring hospital for further evaluation. I figured I'd have to wait a week. To my surprise, the office called and said come over now. I hadn't even left Dr. D's parking lot yet.
I was immediately seen by their senior-most sonographer, who has 30 years of experience. She looked at the baby's organs, his limbs, she measured him, she measured his fluid, she measured the bleed, she looked at the placenta. It was a long ultrasound. She updated me on most things as she went. The perinatologist came in to review the report. I didn't know what to expect; I just hoped Dr. D's sonographer (who I love and trust) had been wrong.
She was wrong about a few things. First, baby is measuring right on schedule. He weighs 1 lb 11 oz. His vital organs were all functioning normally, including his kidneys which produce the urine which is amniotic fluid. That said, his fluid is lower than we thought, 6 cm of fluid (normal is 8-18 cm). The cause of that is undetermined. They couldn't find a rupture in the sac membranes. The bleed is now small to medium in size, is inactive, and is located behind the placenta, so the placenta is detached where that bleed is. It's also detached in other places where the bleed once was. She measured my cervix, which had been measuring short for weeks, but she measured it above 3 cm, which is normal.
My baby and I are walking statistic breakers. There's a 1% chance of having a subchorionic bleed, and an even smaller chance of it never going away like mine. There's a 1% chance of detached placenta, about a 5% chance of shortened cervix, a 0% chance of a cervix thickening. Dr. D. told me, reassuringly, that every patient he's had that's had a bleed as large as mine as early as I did in the pregnancy ended up losing their baby. It really is nothing short of a miracle that I still have mine and that he is normal.
I felt my brave women with me all day and all through my appointments. People often look at me like I'm crazy when they ask about my pregnancy and I tell them all these horrible things. They are indeed horrible things, and I should be a basket of nerves and tears. But I'm not. I know this baby will be okay. I am learning so much more about the Lord's love, the Atonement, and how they apply to all the things we go through in life. I've wondered, How does Christ even understand what I'm going through now? He has never carried a child. But, Christ has given life to the dead. He experienced the same worries and fears and uncertainty that I am experiencing now. He can empathize with me, and that is enough for Him to know how to succor me. He has sent my brave women to me to succor me. I have been told they know what I am going through and they know how to help me. I have felt their healing hands upon me and know they are there for me when I call upon them. I love them, my brave women.
Tuesday, September 01, 2015
Brave Women
No one ever told me pregnancy could have this man ups and downs. This pregnancy has caused its fair share of worry.
Yesterday at work I started cramping and bleeding. After about two hours of that, I ended up passing a huge blood clot, about 7 cm x 5 cm. Like I said, huge. And disgusting. And eerily cool. I stopped by my midwife's office to check on the baby, just in case, and it was there in all it's 158 bpm glory. Go Baby Ward!
The cramping continued into the evening when I passed another large clot, though smaller than the morning's clot, and then two more quarter-sized clots an hour later. If you've never passed a blood clot through your lady parts (if you have those), it is a very weird sensation, like a ball sliding out of a tube. Passing it doesn't hurt, but trying
The cramping and bleeding continued well into the night. As I laid down to sleep, I realized the cramping was coming and going. I soon clued into the fact that I was having contractions. Strong ones. I don't know how they compare to labor contractions, but these were strong. Enough to reduce me to tears a few times. I breathed through them, using my yoga breathing to inhale the pain and exhale it out. Thank heaven that worked. I frequently got up to pee and pass more blood. Around 1 am I couldn't take the pain anymore. I hadn't slept a wink and neither had Jeff. He gave me a blessing and Heavenly Father had one simple thing to tell me: that I was surrounded by brave women who were attending to me in my time of pain of weakness. They were there to calm me and support me through this time. Shortly later I fell asleep between contractions and slept until the sun came up.
My friend Ashley has an ongoing #webravewomen movement. I thought of the brave women in my life who support me in my times of need, and I thought about all the brave women who have given me life. I always think first to my Grandma Betty, who will never be replaced in my heart. She taught me how to unconditionally love and serve. I thought of Great Grandma Marie, who joined the church in St. Louis as a teenager, then raised 13 kids on a farm in Delta, Utah. She would later lose one of them to a horrible tractor accident. Later she developed Lou Gehrig's disease (of ALS Ice Bucket challenge fame...**shudder**), and communicated by blinking her eyes a certain number of times to indicate each letter she wanted to say. I thought of my Great Grandma Rosina, who, with one child out of wedlock, immigrated with her mother from Germany to Utah. She later met my Great Grandpa Walter. They were married and had four more children, one of whom died young. As immigrants, they were usually poor, but they got by. Then one day Great Grandpa Walter didn't come home. For a few days, he didn't come home. Then Great Grandma Rosina saw a notice in the newspaper about a John Doe who'd been hit by a drunk driver and was killed instantly. She knew that man was her husband. She went to morgue where her worst fear was confirmed. Now destitute and with five young children, she moved her family to the wrong side of the tracks. One night the police came and busted up a moonshine racket in the house next door. The police threw crates of moonshine into the streets, the bottles and wooden crates breaking everywhere. Rosina gathered up the wood to create a haphazard wood floor to cover their dirt floor. My Papa Walter used to gather old produce from markets and wander around town trying to sell it in his little wagon, as a five year old boy.
As I lay there in pain, in my comfortable bed, with A/C on, a full bank account, warm blankets, food in my fridge, loving and forlornly helpless husband at my side, I thought about all the brave women in my life who endured so much more with so much less. I love them. I deeply appreciate them. I have gone through a fraction of what they endured. I hope they will teach me to be like them.
Yesterday at work I started cramping and bleeding. After about two hours of that, I ended up passing a huge blood clot, about 7 cm x 5 cm. Like I said, huge. And disgusting. And eerily cool. I stopped by my midwife's office to check on the baby, just in case, and it was there in all it's 158 bpm glory. Go Baby Ward!
The cramping continued into the evening when I passed another large clot, though smaller than the morning's clot, and then two more quarter-sized clots an hour later. If you've never passed a blood clot through your lady parts (if you have those), it is a very weird sensation, like a ball sliding out of a tube. Passing it doesn't hurt, but trying
The cramping and bleeding continued well into the night. As I laid down to sleep, I realized the cramping was coming and going. I soon clued into the fact that I was having contractions. Strong ones. I don't know how they compare to labor contractions, but these were strong. Enough to reduce me to tears a few times. I breathed through them, using my yoga breathing to inhale the pain and exhale it out. Thank heaven that worked. I frequently got up to pee and pass more blood. Around 1 am I couldn't take the pain anymore. I hadn't slept a wink and neither had Jeff. He gave me a blessing and Heavenly Father had one simple thing to tell me: that I was surrounded by brave women who were attending to me in my time of pain of weakness. They were there to calm me and support me through this time. Shortly later I fell asleep between contractions and slept until the sun came up.
My friend Ashley has an ongoing #webravewomen movement. I thought of the brave women in my life who support me in my times of need, and I thought about all the brave women who have given me life. I always think first to my Grandma Betty, who will never be replaced in my heart. She taught me how to unconditionally love and serve. I thought of Great Grandma Marie, who joined the church in St. Louis as a teenager, then raised 13 kids on a farm in Delta, Utah. She would later lose one of them to a horrible tractor accident. Later she developed Lou Gehrig's disease (of ALS Ice Bucket challenge fame...**shudder**), and communicated by blinking her eyes a certain number of times to indicate each letter she wanted to say. I thought of my Great Grandma Rosina, who, with one child out of wedlock, immigrated with her mother from Germany to Utah. She later met my Great Grandpa Walter. They were married and had four more children, one of whom died young. As immigrants, they were usually poor, but they got by. Then one day Great Grandpa Walter didn't come home. For a few days, he didn't come home. Then Great Grandma Rosina saw a notice in the newspaper about a John Doe who'd been hit by a drunk driver and was killed instantly. She knew that man was her husband. She went to morgue where her worst fear was confirmed. Now destitute and with five young children, she moved her family to the wrong side of the tracks. One night the police came and busted up a moonshine racket in the house next door. The police threw crates of moonshine into the streets, the bottles and wooden crates breaking everywhere. Rosina gathered up the wood to create a haphazard wood floor to cover their dirt floor. My Papa Walter used to gather old produce from markets and wander around town trying to sell it in his little wagon, as a five year old boy.
As I lay there in pain, in my comfortable bed, with A/C on, a full bank account, warm blankets, food in my fridge, loving and forlornly helpless husband at my side, I thought about all the brave women in my life who endured so much more with so much less. I love them. I deeply appreciate them. I have gone through a fraction of what they endured. I hope they will teach me to be like them.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
the good news and less good news
The good news is that the ER ultrasound tech and interpreting MD were fools. The baby is right on schedule, maybe even a little ahead! HOORAY! I cried genuine tears of relief and let out a sincere "Praise the Lord" when the ultrasound tech told me that.
The less good news is that the clot is still there, though I've had no symptoms of it in over a week. I did the math, and the clot is basically about half as long as my uterus currently is, I think. That seems pretty good to me. I also learned that the clots aren't necessarily touching the placenta, which is even better. Of that 25% area where the clot is, maybe only 25% of the clot is actually touching the placenta. In other words, a small amount.
Most women with clots, even large ones, go on to have normal and healthy pregnancies.
Thanks to everyone for offering their faith, prayers, and good vibes that Mr. Clot will see himself gone soon.
Thanks to my midwife Holly for texting me all the time, even when it's her day off.
Thanks to Sara V. for giving me more midwife advice and being such a good, supportive friend.
Thanks to Jana N. for telling me success stories about other women who've had large clots and for buying my baby a dress. Even if it's a boy, he will wear it.
Thanks to John Denver and Nick Drake for writing music that helps me stay calm. No one ever told me emotions are so heightened during pregnancy. I haven't felt anxiety, joy, love, and calm like this since I was a teen with out of control hormones. It's actually pretty cool to feel so alive again! But I will be happy when my emotional levels are temperate again after the baby comes.
The less good news is that the clot is still there, though I've had no symptoms of it in over a week. I did the math, and the clot is basically about half as long as my uterus currently is, I think. That seems pretty good to me. I also learned that the clots aren't necessarily touching the placenta, which is even better. Of that 25% area where the clot is, maybe only 25% of the clot is actually touching the placenta. In other words, a small amount.
Most women with clots, even large ones, go on to have normal and healthy pregnancies.
Thanks to everyone for offering their faith, prayers, and good vibes that Mr. Clot will see himself gone soon.
Thanks to my midwife Holly for texting me all the time, even when it's her day off.
Thanks to Sara V. for giving me more midwife advice and being such a good, supportive friend.
Thanks to Jana N. for telling me success stories about other women who've had large clots and for buying my baby a dress. Even if it's a boy, he will wear it.
Thanks to John Denver and Nick Drake for writing music that helps me stay calm. No one ever told me emotions are so heightened during pregnancy. I haven't felt anxiety, joy, love, and calm like this since I was a teen with out of control hormones. It's actually pretty cool to feel so alive again! But I will be happy when my emotional levels are temperate again after the baby comes.
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
be patient in thine afflictions
Some people are people of faith, and others aren't. I am a person of faith. Sometimes I need my faith more than other times, but its strength does not waver. I have seen the hand of loving Heavenly Parents, felt the redeeming love and grace of the Savior, and heard the sweet guidance of the Holy Spirit too many times to deny Their existence. This knowledge is the essence of who I am.
Last night I started bleeding, really bleeding, from you know where, with some intense pressure in my lady regions. This wouldn't be an issue except that I'm 16 weeks pregnant (or so I thought. I'll get to that). Anyone knows that bleeding during pregnancy isn't really a good thing. After bleeding nonstop for a good 30 minutes, we hopped in the car on a strangely deserted rainy Houston night to head for the ER.
I was taken back right away. My decision to see a midwife and avoid the hospital was confirmed throughout the night as I was poked, had blood drawn, was hooked up to an IV, had tape ripped off my arm, had to sit in a bed on a puppy pad, and was forced to get the worst of all pokes...a catheter. Thank heaven that was only a 30 second experience (the most miserable 30 seconds in recent memory).
We thought it was a late miscarriage, but right away the ultrasound tech gave us the good news that she found a strong fetal heartbeat, 153 bpm. Later the doctor told us some not as good news. The fetus is measuring 11-12 weeks, not 16. We may have miscalculated the date of conception, or the fetus might just be small, or there might be a problem. The main problem and source of the bleeding is a subchrionic hematoma, a big one at 5 cm. These hematomas are hemorrhages that sit between the placenta and uterus. Usually they clot and go away, if they're small. Big hematomas like mine could also clot (get to work, little blood cells!), or they could cause a placental abruption, or they could cause an all out miscarriage. It's really anyone's guess.
But there were miracles yesterday, creeping up throughout the day. If I was a missionary, I would have been tipped off to the fact that something important was right around the corner, but I just figured I was having a lucky day.
Yesterday morning, the a/c was off in my office building again, which is no big deal (despite the 100 degree heat), so I brought my work home.
Then our company controller called saying the company would possibly be willing to give me a $1,000 monthly stipend so I could get on Jeff's insurance. It would mean we could upgrade off our high deductible plans. Fingers were crossed for this stipend as I called his provider and they verified that the enrollment period was still open.
It was Jeff's first day back at school, and luckily, he decided he wanted to celebrate with a legendary Barnaby's chocolate brownie. Barnaby's is just up the street from our house. And that is when the bleeding started.
Jeff administered a blessing of healing when we got home, and he spoke those sweet words that calm the mind and heal the soul. All will be well, whatever that is, but it will work out for the best. It always does.
By 7:30 am this morning, my boss had approved giving Jeff and I the insurance stipend, thanks in large part to this scare. On our new plan, my prenatal care will be 100% covered. Now, if only I could back date the enrollment date one day... :)
I know my Parents and parents love me and watch over me. I felt my Grandma Betty, my guardian angel, with me through the night. I felt my Papa and my great-grandpas who I've never met help Jeff give me that blessing. I know what I know, and I am so grateful to know it. I feel like the worst isn't over, but if it is, that's fine with me!
Last night I started bleeding, really bleeding, from you know where, with some intense pressure in my lady regions. This wouldn't be an issue except that I'm 16 weeks pregnant (or so I thought. I'll get to that). Anyone knows that bleeding during pregnancy isn't really a good thing. After bleeding nonstop for a good 30 minutes, we hopped in the car on a strangely deserted rainy Houston night to head for the ER.
I was taken back right away. My decision to see a midwife and avoid the hospital was confirmed throughout the night as I was poked, had blood drawn, was hooked up to an IV, had tape ripped off my arm, had to sit in a bed on a puppy pad, and was forced to get the worst of all pokes...a catheter. Thank heaven that was only a 30 second experience (the most miserable 30 seconds in recent memory).
We thought it was a late miscarriage, but right away the ultrasound tech gave us the good news that she found a strong fetal heartbeat, 153 bpm. Later the doctor told us some not as good news. The fetus is measuring 11-12 weeks, not 16. We may have miscalculated the date of conception, or the fetus might just be small, or there might be a problem. The main problem and source of the bleeding is a subchrionic hematoma, a big one at 5 cm. These hematomas are hemorrhages that sit between the placenta and uterus. Usually they clot and go away, if they're small. Big hematomas like mine could also clot (get to work, little blood cells!), or they could cause a placental abruption, or they could cause an all out miscarriage. It's really anyone's guess.
But there were miracles yesterday, creeping up throughout the day. If I was a missionary, I would have been tipped off to the fact that something important was right around the corner, but I just figured I was having a lucky day.
Yesterday morning, the a/c was off in my office building again, which is no big deal (despite the 100 degree heat), so I brought my work home.
Then our company controller called saying the company would possibly be willing to give me a $1,000 monthly stipend so I could get on Jeff's insurance. It would mean we could upgrade off our high deductible plans. Fingers were crossed for this stipend as I called his provider and they verified that the enrollment period was still open.
It was Jeff's first day back at school, and luckily, he decided he wanted to celebrate with a legendary Barnaby's chocolate brownie. Barnaby's is just up the street from our house. And that is when the bleeding started.
Jeff administered a blessing of healing when we got home, and he spoke those sweet words that calm the mind and heal the soul. All will be well, whatever that is, but it will work out for the best. It always does.
By 7:30 am this morning, my boss had approved giving Jeff and I the insurance stipend, thanks in large part to this scare. On our new plan, my prenatal care will be 100% covered. Now, if only I could back date the enrollment date one day... :)
I know my Parents and parents love me and watch over me. I felt my Grandma Betty, my guardian angel, with me through the night. I felt my Papa and my great-grandpas who I've never met help Jeff give me that blessing. I know what I know, and I am so grateful to know it. I feel like the worst isn't over, but if it is, that's fine with me!
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
2015 is here
Hey, old friend. This little blog of mine that I frequently forget about. Here you are, just waiting for me to come back, and here I am.
With Jeff working full-time and in school (again) for his second Masters degree, I'm alone a lot. A lot. I'm alone most of the day at work with a boss who's too busy to chat (literally). Then I might teach a piano lesson, or I go home. It can be lonely at times, but it's my life and I don't care to change it.
I took a silkscreen class last month at the Museum of Printing History. What a great class. Maybe sometime I'll show you what I made.
Jeff and I got a dog in October. Her name was Grace. We took her back after one week. I couldn't handle being a dog parent, at least not right now. My life revolved around her too much. Taking her back was one of the hardest things we have ever done, and definitely the hardest thing we've done since we've been married. We still miss her.
I went home to California in November to hang out with my mom for the weekend while Dad was out of town. We had such a good time.
My sister Katie is getting married in two months, so of course Jeff and I are going. I got a flight for $136 roundtrip and I still can hardly believe it.
We spent Christmas in Dallas and then went to DC. We met up with Jon, my old editor/friend from The Daily Universe at BYU. It was sure good to see him.
I went to Florida last week for my annual company meeting. I missed Jeff a lot. I was upgraded to a corner suite on the 34th (out of 36) floor. It was a great view. I missed Jeff a lot.
Our stake at church was split last Sunday, so I am officially released as stake camp director because we are no longer in that stake. I don't know whether to be sad or relieved, but I lean heavily toward the latter.
I have read many books lately, my favorites being My Name is Asher Lev and its sequel The Gift of Asher Lev, by Chaim Potok. Last summer I read Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier and that was also a fantastic book. I've read a few others, but those were my favorites.
Houston is cold right now, anywhere between the 30s and 50s, and next week will be in the 60s. I am fearful of the heat already and it is a few months away. The heat here is so relentless, so suffocating and intense, that it drives me to madness, to genuine insanity. We plan to spend the better part of June in Utah and Colorado.
I am proud of my Jeff and all of his hard work at work and school. He is a good teacher and he is a good student. He is also a good husband and I love him so very much.
With Jeff working full-time and in school (again) for his second Masters degree, I'm alone a lot. A lot. I'm alone most of the day at work with a boss who's too busy to chat (literally). Then I might teach a piano lesson, or I go home. It can be lonely at times, but it's my life and I don't care to change it.
I took a silkscreen class last month at the Museum of Printing History. What a great class. Maybe sometime I'll show you what I made.
Jeff and I got a dog in October. Her name was Grace. We took her back after one week. I couldn't handle being a dog parent, at least not right now. My life revolved around her too much. Taking her back was one of the hardest things we have ever done, and definitely the hardest thing we've done since we've been married. We still miss her.
I went home to California in November to hang out with my mom for the weekend while Dad was out of town. We had such a good time.
My sister Katie is getting married in two months, so of course Jeff and I are going. I got a flight for $136 roundtrip and I still can hardly believe it.
We spent Christmas in Dallas and then went to DC. We met up with Jon, my old editor/friend from The Daily Universe at BYU. It was sure good to see him.
I went to Florida last week for my annual company meeting. I missed Jeff a lot. I was upgraded to a corner suite on the 34th (out of 36) floor. It was a great view. I missed Jeff a lot.
Our stake at church was split last Sunday, so I am officially released as stake camp director because we are no longer in that stake. I don't know whether to be sad or relieved, but I lean heavily toward the latter.
I have read many books lately, my favorites being My Name is Asher Lev and its sequel The Gift of Asher Lev, by Chaim Potok. Last summer I read Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier and that was also a fantastic book. I've read a few others, but those were my favorites.
Houston is cold right now, anywhere between the 30s and 50s, and next week will be in the 60s. I am fearful of the heat already and it is a few months away. The heat here is so relentless, so suffocating and intense, that it drives me to madness, to genuine insanity. We plan to spend the better part of June in Utah and Colorado.
I am proud of my Jeff and all of his hard work at work and school. He is a good teacher and he is a good student. He is also a good husband and I love him so very much.
Friday, September 19, 2014
Unbroken and weird dreams
One of the books I'm working on is Unbroken, a biography about Olympic runner and WWII POW Louis Zamperini. Amazing story. My jaw hangs aghast and my mind explodes as I read about the atrocities he experienced. So you know, it lends itself well to bedtime reading, because who doesn't want to fill their subconscious with feelings of paranoia and horrifying thoughts (of things that actually happened)?
One of my "Zamp" dreams came to me last night. I was in front of my parents house, right down at the mailbox, when suddenly a white Honda Civic came barreling around the corner of the cul de sac and ran me right over. Fully conscious and in no real pain, I contorted my body upward to see who had run me over. It was an old high school boyfriend of mine, his wife, and a few other kids from high school in the backseat. There were six people total in the car. Baby Ghosts was playing on the radio. They were oblivious to me for a time, until Jeff came running up and told them to move. Then I think I died, or at least the dream faded away.
Here's a pretty good song for your weekend. Also I want to be the singer, or at least have her hair. I got my hair cut in Utah last week, and I said I wanted Debbie Harry hair. Next time I need to bring pictures. I love my cut but it's not Debbie Harry hair.
One of my "Zamp" dreams came to me last night. I was in front of my parents house, right down at the mailbox, when suddenly a white Honda Civic came barreling around the corner of the cul de sac and ran me right over. Fully conscious and in no real pain, I contorted my body upward to see who had run me over. It was an old high school boyfriend of mine, his wife, and a few other kids from high school in the backseat. There were six people total in the car. Baby Ghosts was playing on the radio. They were oblivious to me for a time, until Jeff came running up and told them to move. Then I think I died, or at least the dream faded away.
Here's a pretty good song for your weekend. Also I want to be the singer, or at least have her hair. I got my hair cut in Utah last week, and I said I wanted Debbie Harry hair. Next time I need to bring pictures. I love my cut but it's not Debbie Harry hair.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
The Way We Were
Watching Babs on Jimmy Fallon prompted me to listen to her new album, "Partners," on Spotify. When I was a kid, I was so sick and tired of Barbra Streisand because whenever I went thrifting for vinyl, all I ever found was a near-complete collection of her myriad albums, i.e. nothing I wanted! I thought her vocal style was so cheesy and overly emotional. She was awful to me.
Then I watched "What's Up Doc?" and I realized she was amazing, an incredible comedic actress and outstanding vocalist, with more control than a remote.
So I'm sitting here on this typically dark, rainy Houston day listening to "Partners," an album on which Babs duets with many prominent vocalists. It's good. I feel a little like a cat lady, at least how I picture a cat lady, sitting home depressed with all her cats on a rainy day. Maybe I'm a new age cat lady because I'm blogging. Maybe I will one day turn into a cat lady.
Speaking of cat ladies, last night I met two dog ladies. I stopped them on the sidewalk on my way to mutual at the church because they were walking their dogs and I am strongly considering getting a dog (also BARC has $20 adoptions this weekend, so that is enticing). I say I because Jeff wants one already; I would be the dog's primary caregiver. So I asked one harmless question--how their dogs do while they're at work all day--and after 6 minutes of feigning interest, I had to abruptly end their rambling and head on my way. They both had shih tzus and tattled on about the breed way too enthusiastically for me to still consider them normal people. Sorry guys! I'm over it!
I started writing about Babs and ended talking about shih tzus. Somehow that seems appropriate. I bet Babs likes shih tzus.
PS Last night I accidentally locked Jeff out of the house, then went to sleep. I felt really really really badly and I still do. The fact I sleep with earplugs in didn't help anything while he called me half a dozen times and rang the doorbell without stopping for ten minutes. A thought came to his mind that maybe he had a spare key in his car. Luckily he did. I try so hard but always come up short! That's life, that's what all the people say.
Then I watched "What's Up Doc?" and I realized she was amazing, an incredible comedic actress and outstanding vocalist, with more control than a remote.
So I'm sitting here on this typically dark, rainy Houston day listening to "Partners," an album on which Babs duets with many prominent vocalists. It's good. I feel a little like a cat lady, at least how I picture a cat lady, sitting home depressed with all her cats on a rainy day. Maybe I'm a new age cat lady because I'm blogging. Maybe I will one day turn into a cat lady.
Speaking of cat ladies, last night I met two dog ladies. I stopped them on the sidewalk on my way to mutual at the church because they were walking their dogs and I am strongly considering getting a dog (also BARC has $20 adoptions this weekend, so that is enticing). I say I because Jeff wants one already; I would be the dog's primary caregiver. So I asked one harmless question--how their dogs do while they're at work all day--and after 6 minutes of feigning interest, I had to abruptly end their rambling and head on my way. They both had shih tzus and tattled on about the breed way too enthusiastically for me to still consider them normal people. Sorry guys! I'm over it!
I started writing about Babs and ended talking about shih tzus. Somehow that seems appropriate. I bet Babs likes shih tzus.
PS Last night I accidentally locked Jeff out of the house, then went to sleep. I felt really really really badly and I still do. The fact I sleep with earplugs in didn't help anything while he called me half a dozen times and rang the doorbell without stopping for ten minutes. A thought came to his mind that maybe he had a spare key in his car. Luckily he did. I try so hard but always come up short! That's life, that's what all the people say.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Love when you're far away
A week ago tonight, I came back from my trip to Utah.
Meg and Scott's wedding was so very beautiful. I haven't been to a civil marriage recently that wasn't a Catholic ceremony (if you know what I mean...). Theirs was so unique, so full of love and beauty. I loved watching from afar as Meg walked up the hill for her and Scott's "first look." My heart fluttered remembering the first time Jeff saw me in my wedding dress and it really hit us that we were getting married, that we would belong to each other. Meg and Scott's day got better and better. I felt so honored to be there, to be welcomed so fully by her family and to be part of the beginning of the rest of their life together. Scott sang Meg "Here, There and Everywhere". They had the perfect mom/son, dad/daughter dance songs. Everything was perfect. Weddings are so wonderful.
I reflected a lot while I was in Utah. I spent time with good friends and compared my current self with who I was when I lived in Utah. I have grown a lot, for the better I think. I used to hate Utah and Utahans. I still don't understand some of the fashion choices made by Utahans, but I don't understand a lot of things. I love the mountains. I love the fact that people can walk downtown just as I walk to church. I love how nice people are in Utah and how clean it is. I love all the old buildings. I love that I randomly ran into at least 6 friends. Mostly I love the family I have in Utah. I classify all the friends I have in Utah as family because they are that to me.
It's odd how you don't often realize how badly you miss someone, or how much someone means to you, until you reunite with them and your heart does a funky dance and you can't imagine how you lived without them in your daily life. That goes for places too, I suppose, because when I drove out to Vernal one day I felt like my heart was on the verge of cardiac arrest. You guys, those mountains through Park City and Heber, they are magical. They speak to my soul.
I felt a lot of anxiety before leaving Houston. Jeff has been so swamped and stressed between work and his MBA, and I don't see him much. I've worked hard on taking over all the house duties and serving him selflessly. Most of our marriage, we have shared house duties, but I feel so much more endeared to him and grateful for him the more I do for him. It's been a valuable lesson to me. I love him so much.
Houston, oh Houston. Sometimes I really loathe you as a place. As I type there's a fantastic thunderstorm outside (just had a 7-second rumble of thunder), and this is how I like you best. You have great storms.
The night after I got back from Utah, we had a Relief Society activity to finish up our service project from Girls Camp. We made washable hygiene/menstruation kits for girls and ladies in Africa. I feel passionate about this project, and it was so awesome to work on it with the girls at camp and with my sisters in my ward. I may not like Houston, but I sure do love my people here. I have learned a lot of lessons here, and I keep learning more lessons, some easier than others.
My young cousin Wyatt killed himself last Friday. He shot himself. Craig died almost a year ago, Andrew died six months ago, and now Wyatt. Each of their deaths have caused me to reflect deeply on how I live my life, how I reach out to others. Craig's death was not his choice; he made such an impact on the youth in our ward and stake. With Andrew and Wyatt, they left deep valleys of sadness for many people in choosing to leave the Earth. I remember my own feelings of clinical depression well. I am grateful to be healed from the darkest times; I am grateful to have felt those deep feelings of despair, loss of control, and desperation, and to understand well some of the emotions they may have felt. I pray they are freed from those feelings and are healing through love.
Meg and Scott's wedding was so very beautiful. I haven't been to a civil marriage recently that wasn't a Catholic ceremony (if you know what I mean...). Theirs was so unique, so full of love and beauty. I loved watching from afar as Meg walked up the hill for her and Scott's "first look." My heart fluttered remembering the first time Jeff saw me in my wedding dress and it really hit us that we were getting married, that we would belong to each other. Meg and Scott's day got better and better. I felt so honored to be there, to be welcomed so fully by her family and to be part of the beginning of the rest of their life together. Scott sang Meg "Here, There and Everywhere". They had the perfect mom/son, dad/daughter dance songs. Everything was perfect. Weddings are so wonderful.
I reflected a lot while I was in Utah. I spent time with good friends and compared my current self with who I was when I lived in Utah. I have grown a lot, for the better I think. I used to hate Utah and Utahans. I still don't understand some of the fashion choices made by Utahans, but I don't understand a lot of things. I love the mountains. I love the fact that people can walk downtown just as I walk to church. I love how nice people are in Utah and how clean it is. I love all the old buildings. I love that I randomly ran into at least 6 friends. Mostly I love the family I have in Utah. I classify all the friends I have in Utah as family because they are that to me.
It's odd how you don't often realize how badly you miss someone, or how much someone means to you, until you reunite with them and your heart does a funky dance and you can't imagine how you lived without them in your daily life. That goes for places too, I suppose, because when I drove out to Vernal one day I felt like my heart was on the verge of cardiac arrest. You guys, those mountains through Park City and Heber, they are magical. They speak to my soul.
I felt a lot of anxiety before leaving Houston. Jeff has been so swamped and stressed between work and his MBA, and I don't see him much. I've worked hard on taking over all the house duties and serving him selflessly. Most of our marriage, we have shared house duties, but I feel so much more endeared to him and grateful for him the more I do for him. It's been a valuable lesson to me. I love him so much.
Houston, oh Houston. Sometimes I really loathe you as a place. As I type there's a fantastic thunderstorm outside (just had a 7-second rumble of thunder), and this is how I like you best. You have great storms.
The night after I got back from Utah, we had a Relief Society activity to finish up our service project from Girls Camp. We made washable hygiene/menstruation kits for girls and ladies in Africa. I feel passionate about this project, and it was so awesome to work on it with the girls at camp and with my sisters in my ward. I may not like Houston, but I sure do love my people here. I have learned a lot of lessons here, and I keep learning more lessons, some easier than others.
My young cousin Wyatt killed himself last Friday. He shot himself. Craig died almost a year ago, Andrew died six months ago, and now Wyatt. Each of their deaths have caused me to reflect deeply on how I live my life, how I reach out to others. Craig's death was not his choice; he made such an impact on the youth in our ward and stake. With Andrew and Wyatt, they left deep valleys of sadness for many people in choosing to leave the Earth. I remember my own feelings of clinical depression well. I am grateful to be healed from the darkest times; I am grateful to have felt those deep feelings of despair, loss of control, and desperation, and to understand well some of the emotions they may have felt. I pray they are freed from those feelings and are healing through love.
Monday, August 04, 2014
If it's free, it's for me
Does anyone else remember when Blogger wasn't owned by Google? I barely do, back when I started writing this sorry blog.
I just read this opinion piece and it made me think of all the things I get for free in this world without even batting an eye. I, like the writer, listen to spotify all day long. Artists make very little money off of me, despite the fact I listen to their albums ad nauseum. Vinyl attracts me for this very reason. Jack White's new album "Lazaretto", which I'm currently listening to via spotify, features hidden tracks accessible only on the vinyl copy. Were I a bigger Jack White fan, I wouldn't hesitate to pay $25 in exchange for a unique musical experience. Jeff and I paid almost $100 a few weeks ago to see Jimmy Eat World, a band whose only album I've ever purchased was "Bleed American" (back before it was re-branded post 9/11), but who I listen to regularly on spotify and Pandora (they happen to be our favorite band to train to). But then when Parquet Courts came and played for $10/ticket, I couldn't be bothered. I regret not going. I was tired or something.
We are accustomed to free things in this day and age. Even our cell phones feel free, despite the fact most of us pay $150 to use two smart phones any way we please. I was talking to a friend and youth leader in our congregation yesterday, and she remarked that none -- literally none -- of the working-age girls have jobs this summer. What do they do all day? Beats me. I can't remember a time over the past 15 years when I haven't had some sort of self-earned income.
Nothing good can come from all the free things in the world these days.
I just read this opinion piece and it made me think of all the things I get for free in this world without even batting an eye. I, like the writer, listen to spotify all day long. Artists make very little money off of me, despite the fact I listen to their albums ad nauseum. Vinyl attracts me for this very reason. Jack White's new album "Lazaretto", which I'm currently listening to via spotify, features hidden tracks accessible only on the vinyl copy. Were I a bigger Jack White fan, I wouldn't hesitate to pay $25 in exchange for a unique musical experience. Jeff and I paid almost $100 a few weeks ago to see Jimmy Eat World, a band whose only album I've ever purchased was "Bleed American" (back before it was re-branded post 9/11), but who I listen to regularly on spotify and Pandora (they happen to be our favorite band to train to). But then when Parquet Courts came and played for $10/ticket, I couldn't be bothered. I regret not going. I was tired or something.
We are accustomed to free things in this day and age. Even our cell phones feel free, despite the fact most of us pay $150 to use two smart phones any way we please. I was talking to a friend and youth leader in our congregation yesterday, and she remarked that none -- literally none -- of the working-age girls have jobs this summer. What do they do all day? Beats me. I can't remember a time over the past 15 years when I haven't had some sort of self-earned income.
Nothing good can come from all the free things in the world these days.
I forget sometimes
Sometimes I stumble across my blog after months and months away from it, and it reaches out to me like an old friend. I am so glad I kept this blog. So many things have happened in my life that I have completely forgotten about. I feel like I should write in this blog more. Maybe I will.
My life is so different now than it was in college and in high school when I consistently wrote on here. I loved college. I loved having so many friends to love and care for, who loved me and cared for me. Life now is much more lonely. Which isn't to say I'm lonely. I'm not. But my circle of friends is much smaller and more constrained in their ability to go do things. We have jobs, some have kids, our time is not quite our own like it was during school. I'll never forget in my Media Literacy class, fall semester 2007 (my very last class to graduate), and a kid in my class lamented to Prof. Cutri about an extra assignment he'd given us. "We don't have the tiiiiiiime," he said. Cutri threw his head back and laughed. His words ring in my head. "You will never have this much time for the rest of your life." He was so right, and I don't even have kids yet!
Girls Camp was a success. Exhausting, but a success. I have worried for months about the girls hating it, or leaders sitting around sipping lemonade and talking about how they could have done better. Luckily none of that happened (to my knowledge at least). I truly feel that what Heavenly Father wanted to have happen at camp did happen, that is, the girls felt His and the Savior's divine love, and they gained a deeper understanding of the Atonement and its reality. That was my goal. That was His goal. I think it was accomplished.
There was a moment in the middle of the week. I was sitting alone in my room about midday. I'd just fought off a panic attack. I looked heavenward and said, "Father, this is the hardest thing I have ever done. Harder than the hardest moments of my mission." Now I had some hard moments on my mission. But being stake camp director honestly trumps them all. First because I am not nearly as close to the Spirit as I was as a missionary. I felt the Spirit work through me often as camp director, but not in the same way as a missionary. Second because I don't really like Girls Camp. I went for three days my first year and never went back. I'm glad some girls enjoy the friendship and all the LOUD singing, crafts, etc. I can't really say I do. Maybe I would have at my camp had I not been running around like a chicken with my head cut off all week. Alas, one does not relax as stake camp director.
I am going to Utah for my best friend's wedding (no, not like in the movie) in a month and I CAN'T WAIT! First, to see her so beautiful in her dress, second because it will be my FIRST TIME EVER being a maid/matron (gross) of honor!!, third because I will be in Utah which has MOUNTAINS! I will save why I love the mountains for another entry.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
what I need
My problems are hardly worth complaining about, but I'm going to do it anyway because they're problems we all share.
I've got people breathing down my neck wanting stuff for camp. Stuff I don't have. I have a website to finish. A logo that won't design itself. Forms that need to be generated and re-designed. Meetings multiple times a week. My hands are tied on half of what I need to do for camp because the stake hasn't called my requested person yet. I spent eight hours of my days at work. Then I teach piano lessons. When I finally get home, I attempt to cook dinner but usually end up getting a Costco chicken or forcing some sort of leftover down my throat. Then Jeff gets upset because he's eating the same thing again and I don't blame him.
I'd like to say that five more hours in a day would solve all my problems, but I would prefer to have two clones of myself. Or maybe I would like to invent a nutritious, affordable meal that cooks itself and tastes like whatever you want it to.
And then I think about what life will be like when I'm a mother, working, and stake camp director. I don't see how it can all be done. How do women do it?!
(Of course, all of this seems so much worse because my menstrual cramps feel like daggers in my back).
Hats off to women everywhere! #whitepeopleprobs #mormonprobs #menstrualprobs
Thursday, November 21, 2013
rant on motherhood
I see more and more often on the internet divergent points of view on stay at home moms and working moms and why one is better than the other, and I tell you what -- I'm sick of it.
Why aren't we praising mothers for being mothers? Why do people feel the need to praise being either a stay at home mother or a working mother? Why don't we all support each other in the great magical role of being a mother? A woman is a mother whether or not she works a job in addition to working in her home raising her kids. She's still mother to her children with all the validity a stay at home mother has. Both are working women who have made well-thought out sacrifices to become mothers and to spend their days where they do, and both are mothers. We, especially us women, need to quit defining types of mothers as if one is worth more than the other. Just the word 'mother' alone should say it all.
End rant.
Why aren't we praising mothers for being mothers? Why do people feel the need to praise being either a stay at home mother or a working mother? Why don't we all support each other in the great magical role of being a mother? A woman is a mother whether or not she works a job in addition to working in her home raising her kids. She's still mother to her children with all the validity a stay at home mother has. Both are working women who have made well-thought out sacrifices to become mothers and to spend their days where they do, and both are mothers. We, especially us women, need to quit defining types of mothers as if one is worth more than the other. Just the word 'mother' alone should say it all.
End rant.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
fish out of water
Almost three weeks ago now, I was asked to serve as our stake's Girls Camp Director. I said yes. I said yes?! What am I thinking? I went to Girls Camp twice, once for three days and once overnight. I will never forget my first camp meeting. Because the leaders switched what determined one's level, they told me my first year that I was actually supposed to be a second year. Over to the second years I went. Those girls were not nice. I received a few dirty looks and a few mean remarks and then told the leader, "I do not want to be a second year." Let me sum up my entire five days at girls camp by saying I didn't like it. I didn't feel comfortable. I didn't want to be there. A girl from my ward spat up her soup all over me at dinner. If I ever hear that elbows on the table song again, I swear I'm gonna.....
I get a do-over! This is definitely one of those callings where I don't feel like my skill set qualifies me very well. I don't craft, I don't camp, I don't feel comfortable in church leadership positions. But, I do love. I love my sisters, I love the Savior, I love His gospel. "Now remember, faith, hope, charity and love, with an eye single to the glory of God, qualify [her] for the work." (D&C 4:5). These are the prerequisites for any calling in His kingdom.
I don't have a theme just yet, but I'm getting there. All I know is that this is going to be the coolest looking girls camp ever. We're going all out with hip graphics and well-fitting t-shirts.
If you have any memories of girls camp (favorite activities, horror stories, advice), please, send it along!
(Also, I'm going to see Polica tonight! Yay!)
I get a do-over! This is definitely one of those callings where I don't feel like my skill set qualifies me very well. I don't craft, I don't camp, I don't feel comfortable in church leadership positions. But, I do love. I love my sisters, I love the Savior, I love His gospel. "Now remember, faith, hope, charity and love, with an eye single to the glory of God, qualify [her] for the work." (D&C 4:5). These are the prerequisites for any calling in His kingdom.
I don't have a theme just yet, but I'm getting there. All I know is that this is going to be the coolest looking girls camp ever. We're going all out with hip graphics and well-fitting t-shirts.
If you have any memories of girls camp (favorite activities, horror stories, advice), please, send it along!
(Also, I'm going to see Polica tonight! Yay!)
Monday, November 04, 2013
Do you realize?
A good friend of ours died suddenly last night. Just died. He was 29.
RIP Craig Ruggles. There are a lot of people on Earth who are going to miss you tons.
RIP Craig Ruggles. There are a lot of people on Earth who are going to miss you tons.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Obsessed
Been obsessed with Poliça for a few months. Their new album, 'Shulamith,' came out yesterday. Still getting into the groove of it.
Here's track one off the new album.
And here's a song off their first album, 'Dark Star.'
Thank heaven Houston is finally getting a great show. Polica is playing here November 14, and La Sera is opening for Kate Bush on the 15th. YESSSSSSS.
Also, I will always love Arcade Fire very much. Can't wait for their new album this Tuesday.
Here's track one off the new album.
And here's a song off their first album, 'Dark Star.'
Thank heaven Houston is finally getting a great show. Polica is playing here November 14, and La Sera is opening for Kate Bush on the 15th. YESSSSSSS.
Also, I will always love Arcade Fire very much. Can't wait for their new album this Tuesday.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Just call me Pansy
My unicorn name is: Pansy Rainbow Mare
Pansy is good-humoured and always in high spirits.She is rainbow-coloured and bright,
and she dances on the spindrift as the tides change.
Get your own unicorn name from the unicorn name generator!
Monday, September 30, 2013
nothing has changed, literally
Remember last time I posted about how I had these weird chapped lips? Well, I still have them. It's so bizarre. Not only are my lips constantly dry and flaky, but so is my chin, my upper lip, my smile lines, my eyelids, and the skin on the sides of my eyes and cheekbones. Luckily, it is still really difficult to see unless you're up close to me. But yesterday I was talking to the richest lady in our congregation and she was looking at my face quizzically. I'm not a dirty person! Seriously, I'm so over it. I'm still using coconut oil and lavender essential oil, but I'm also using Mentholatum because it feels really good and actually smooths out my lips for a little bit, but sadly not enough to wear lipstick again. So all my lipstick is just chillin in my bathroom drawers because I can't wear it. I've cleaned up my diet and cut out all potential allergens with the hope that it will help. We shall see.
I also mentioned in my last entry that I was about to leave for Disney World. Well, I went, and it easily surpassed every dream I've ever dreamed about it. It was so awesome. The magic hits you BAM smack in the middle of the head the second you walk into the park, even the second you get to the Disney World shuttle stop at the Orlando airport. Every process is so finely tuned to perfection. I had such an amazing time. I got really sick and still had an amazing time.
The only problem is that now I feel addicted to Disney, which is so embarrassing, but I feel like I need to be vocal about this so I can work through it. As Jeff knows, I obsess over things really quickly; for example, I have obsessed over every vacation we've ever taken. Currently I'm obsessed with trying to go to Disneyland in January since my company's annual meeting is in Santa Barbara. So why not fly out a few days early and go to the most magical place on Earth (tied with all the other Disney parks, of course)? Guys, I AM SO WEIRD. I hope it's not too late for me. At least I'm not walking around with Mickey on every article of clothing. I only have two Disney shirts--one was for this trip and the other is a vintage Mickey sweatshirt I thrifted as a missionary. I really do feel badly about this addiction. But at the same time I can't feel bad because I love it so much. I promise I will never start collecting and trading pins like all those crazies. Them peeps are nuts.
I also mentioned in my last entry that I was about to leave for Disney World. Well, I went, and it easily surpassed every dream I've ever dreamed about it. It was so awesome. The magic hits you BAM smack in the middle of the head the second you walk into the park, even the second you get to the Disney World shuttle stop at the Orlando airport. Every process is so finely tuned to perfection. I had such an amazing time. I got really sick and still had an amazing time.
The only problem is that now I feel addicted to Disney, which is so embarrassing, but I feel like I need to be vocal about this so I can work through it. As Jeff knows, I obsess over things really quickly; for example, I have obsessed over every vacation we've ever taken. Currently I'm obsessed with trying to go to Disneyland in January since my company's annual meeting is in Santa Barbara. So why not fly out a few days early and go to the most magical place on Earth (tied with all the other Disney parks, of course)? Guys, I AM SO WEIRD. I hope it's not too late for me. At least I'm not walking around with Mickey on every article of clothing. I only have two Disney shirts--one was for this trip and the other is a vintage Mickey sweatshirt I thrifted as a missionary. I really do feel badly about this addiction. But at the same time I can't feel bad because I love it so much. I promise I will never start collecting and trading pins like all those crazies. Them peeps are nuts.
Tuesday, September 03, 2013
it burns
I'm leaving for a trip to Disney World tomorrow. I'm going with my gal pal Megan. She's really great and I haven't seen her for three years. I'm excited to see her. I'm also excited for Disney World. Going there is a lifelong dream. Hopefully it's not lame and awful. Jeff is going to Utah to meet up with his college buddies while I'm in Florida. It's been awhile since we were apart. I'm just glad we are each taking a trip instead of one of us staying home alone. Part of me wishes I were going to Utah, mainly to see friends, but I made my decision and I know I won't regret it.
Last week I got an e-mail from airfarewatchdog telling me that American Airlines has flights from Houston to New York City for $167 round trip! For this weekend only. What a deal. Too bad I'll be in Disney World.
I've had a weird case of chapped lips for a few weeks now, and they are not getting better. I've tried everything. Absolutely everything. Coconut oil soothes them, lavender essential oil soothes too, Vaseline lotion helps some, but most lip balms just sting and burn. I'm so sick of this. At least they're not chapped anymore. Just red/stinging/burning/dry. I refuse to see a doctor because I'm stubborn and I don't like medicine. It all started a few weeks ago when Jeff and I were swimming a lot. I think that may have had something to do with it, perhaps a sensitivity to the chlorine, or to the bat guano in the water. I'm only guessing there's bat guano, or bat something in the water since one time when we were swimming a bat dove into the pool. It was so gross. And scary. I don't like bats and I sure as heck don't like swimming with them. Anyway my lips and chin are on fire right now and I don't know what to do since I'm at work and didn't bring coconut oil. I brought Vaseline lotion, but that's not helping. Ugh.
Any other suggestions? I feel like I have a diaper rash on my face.
I watched this band play at the iTunes Festival yesterday. Now I'm obsessed. They're coming Houston November 14. Who's in?
Last week I got an e-mail from airfarewatchdog telling me that American Airlines has flights from Houston to New York City for $167 round trip! For this weekend only. What a deal. Too bad I'll be in Disney World.
I've had a weird case of chapped lips for a few weeks now, and they are not getting better. I've tried everything. Absolutely everything. Coconut oil soothes them, lavender essential oil soothes too, Vaseline lotion helps some, but most lip balms just sting and burn. I'm so sick of this. At least they're not chapped anymore. Just red/stinging/burning/dry. I refuse to see a doctor because I'm stubborn and I don't like medicine. It all started a few weeks ago when Jeff and I were swimming a lot. I think that may have had something to do with it, perhaps a sensitivity to the chlorine, or to the bat guano in the water. I'm only guessing there's bat guano, or bat something in the water since one time when we were swimming a bat dove into the pool. It was so gross. And scary. I don't like bats and I sure as heck don't like swimming with them. Anyway my lips and chin are on fire right now and I don't know what to do since I'm at work and didn't bring coconut oil. I brought Vaseline lotion, but that's not helping. Ugh.
Any other suggestions? I feel like I have a diaper rash on my face.
I watched this band play at the iTunes Festival yesterday. Now I'm obsessed. They're coming Houston November 14. Who's in?
Monday, August 05, 2013
Georgia on my mind
There are few things better than a relaxing week-long vacation, and few things worse than coming back from one.
Jeff and I recently went to Tybee Island, Georgia to spend some quality time with the Ward fam. His dad turned 60, our sister-in-law turned 28, and all 15 Wards went to stay in 3,000 sq ft of condo chaos. It was a fun time.
We left early July 20, around 4:30 am, for what Google said would be a 16-hour drive to Georgia. Multiple Coke Zeros, a bag of gummy worms, one chocolate bar, a few handfuls of chocolate-covered almonds, four bananas, one pound of baby carrots, one stop at BK (disgusting), another at Cracker Barrel (slightly better than BK), a dozen bottles of water, two traffic jams, one major routing mistake, a huge rainstorm, one freak-out over driving stick in the rain and traffic (guilty), two gas stops, five bathroom stops, and 19 hours later, we arrived very tired, and pretty sick, at the condo on Tybee. It was a long drive, and we were so happy to get there.
The week was filled with lots of eating, beach time, lots of time wandering through Savannah, the best pot roast we've ever had in our lives, history, and screaming kids that we love so it wasn't so bad. Savannah is absolutely gorgeous. If you ever have a chance to go, go. You will not regret it. Go on a walking tour. Eat some of the amazing southern food, go antiquing, just drive and walk around. It's so pretty.
The night before we left, we decided to take the 'long way' home through Atlanta and Birmingham. Saturday we left early and arrived in Atlanta around 11, just in time to catch a 90-minute wait at Gladys Knight's Chicken 'N Waffles. Heck no. So we yelped a different place, a more upscale eatery that arguably had better chicken and waffles. Considering I don't really care for fried anything, I figured we'd better go all out on our one time eating it. South City Kitchen didn't disappoint. Cloth napkins, filtered water, real maple syrup, freshly battered and fried chicken with a crispy waffle. It was awesome. And, I didn't even get a stomach ache. It was a definitely a one-time meal. I like my chicken and waffles separate I guess.
We then headed down to the Georgia Aquarium and World of Coke Museum, which were both packed to the brim. Jeff and I have a rule: If we have to wait in a line, we leave. So after talking to a really nice senior missionary couple about all the miracles in the Atlanta mission, we left for Birmingham and the Civil Rights Institute Museum.
The only problem was, we had to get to Birmingham in two hours or we wouldn't be able to make it to the museum. So Jeff mustered up his best lead foot and we drove as fast as we could to get there by 4:30 pm. Around 4:20 pm, just outside of Birmingham, a stroke of genius struck me and I thought, When does the time zone change? Sure enough, we were safely inside Central Time. We hadn't laughed that hard the whole trip.
We were two of three white people in the whole place. Probably in all of downtown Birmingham. At one point a very passionate young black woman, who'd spent the entire time in the museum trying to understand white people or something like that, looked right at me, I looked back, and she said, 'I appreciate you being here.' I told her I was happy to be there. It was a little awkward. We shared a moment. To me, race is an issue only if we make it one. Let's just all love each other and be friends, be kind.
Jeff and I were so glad to have good friends to stay with that night in Birmingham, Alex and Elisa. Alex is one of two guys I dated who I'm successfully good friends with, and Elisa is just plain cool. We had a real awesome time being jealous of their beautiful 1920s bungalow, full of incredible vintage thrift store finds, including Elisa's Broyhill Brasilia desk she scored for $40. Still jealous. We ate some delicious Mediterranean food, some tasty sorbet, and had a generally good time chatting while we saw some beautiful parts of Birmingham. What a sad city, but at the same time, so vibrant. It has a real life to it. I would go back.
Sunday we drove home, all day, we drove and drove and got home around 7 pm. Monday saw me back to work for a very very busy week.
Jeff and I are both getting excited for our next trips, to Utah and DISNEY WORLD! Separate trips, taken over our 3rd anniversary. We are totally weird. Let the record state that I love my Jeff more than anyone in the world! There's no one I'd rather drive for 19 straight hours with than him. I love you, Jeff. Thanks for putting up with me and helping me be a better person. I don't ever want to live without you. Let's die at exactly the same time.
I would post pictures of the trip, but I'm too lazy. Sorry.
Jeff and I recently went to Tybee Island, Georgia to spend some quality time with the Ward fam. His dad turned 60, our sister-in-law turned 28, and all 15 Wards went to stay in 3,000 sq ft of condo chaos. It was a fun time.
We left early July 20, around 4:30 am, for what Google said would be a 16-hour drive to Georgia. Multiple Coke Zeros, a bag of gummy worms, one chocolate bar, a few handfuls of chocolate-covered almonds, four bananas, one pound of baby carrots, one stop at BK (disgusting), another at Cracker Barrel (slightly better than BK), a dozen bottles of water, two traffic jams, one major routing mistake, a huge rainstorm, one freak-out over driving stick in the rain and traffic (guilty), two gas stops, five bathroom stops, and 19 hours later, we arrived very tired, and pretty sick, at the condo on Tybee. It was a long drive, and we were so happy to get there.
The week was filled with lots of eating, beach time, lots of time wandering through Savannah, the best pot roast we've ever had in our lives, history, and screaming kids that we love so it wasn't so bad. Savannah is absolutely gorgeous. If you ever have a chance to go, go. You will not regret it. Go on a walking tour. Eat some of the amazing southern food, go antiquing, just drive and walk around. It's so pretty.
The night before we left, we decided to take the 'long way' home through Atlanta and Birmingham. Saturday we left early and arrived in Atlanta around 11, just in time to catch a 90-minute wait at Gladys Knight's Chicken 'N Waffles. Heck no. So we yelped a different place, a more upscale eatery that arguably had better chicken and waffles. Considering I don't really care for fried anything, I figured we'd better go all out on our one time eating it. South City Kitchen didn't disappoint. Cloth napkins, filtered water, real maple syrup, freshly battered and fried chicken with a crispy waffle. It was awesome. And, I didn't even get a stomach ache. It was a definitely a one-time meal. I like my chicken and waffles separate I guess.
We then headed down to the Georgia Aquarium and World of Coke Museum, which were both packed to the brim. Jeff and I have a rule: If we have to wait in a line, we leave. So after talking to a really nice senior missionary couple about all the miracles in the Atlanta mission, we left for Birmingham and the Civil Rights Institute Museum.
The only problem was, we had to get to Birmingham in two hours or we wouldn't be able to make it to the museum. So Jeff mustered up his best lead foot and we drove as fast as we could to get there by 4:30 pm. Around 4:20 pm, just outside of Birmingham, a stroke of genius struck me and I thought, When does the time zone change? Sure enough, we were safely inside Central Time. We hadn't laughed that hard the whole trip.
We were two of three white people in the whole place. Probably in all of downtown Birmingham. At one point a very passionate young black woman, who'd spent the entire time in the museum trying to understand white people or something like that, looked right at me, I looked back, and she said, 'I appreciate you being here.' I told her I was happy to be there. It was a little awkward. We shared a moment. To me, race is an issue only if we make it one. Let's just all love each other and be friends, be kind.
Jeff and I were so glad to have good friends to stay with that night in Birmingham, Alex and Elisa. Alex is one of two guys I dated who I'm successfully good friends with, and Elisa is just plain cool. We had a real awesome time being jealous of their beautiful 1920s bungalow, full of incredible vintage thrift store finds, including Elisa's Broyhill Brasilia desk she scored for $40. Still jealous. We ate some delicious Mediterranean food, some tasty sorbet, and had a generally good time chatting while we saw some beautiful parts of Birmingham. What a sad city, but at the same time, so vibrant. It has a real life to it. I would go back.
Sunday we drove home, all day, we drove and drove and got home around 7 pm. Monday saw me back to work for a very very busy week.
Jeff and I are both getting excited for our next trips, to Utah and DISNEY WORLD! Separate trips, taken over our 3rd anniversary. We are totally weird. Let the record state that I love my Jeff more than anyone in the world! There's no one I'd rather drive for 19 straight hours with than him. I love you, Jeff. Thanks for putting up with me and helping me be a better person. I don't ever want to live without you. Let's die at exactly the same time.
I would post pictures of the trip, but I'm too lazy. Sorry.
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