More 3rd Grade Journaling

I've run across my 3rd grade journal again. Click here to read about it's humble beginnings. I am posting an insert below - in all its grammatical glory - for you to enjoy. This one's about my grandmother (my Mom's mom.)

AN INTERVIEW WITH MY GRANDMOTHER (pg. 7)

[Jewell Etoil[e] Slawson Stokes]

1. What can you remember about the earliest events in your life? My grandmother is 65 years old. She could remember when her sister who was 3 years yunger than her was just learning to crawl and her father put her footprint in the harth by the fire place. hhmmm - her foot or her sister's foot, I wonder?

2. What are some of the best things that happend to you as a child? My grandmother said the most injoyable thing was "Getting a ride in a car to go to school." She had to walk 2 1/2 mile usually.

3 What is the worst weather that you can remember? A deep snow 3 1/2 feet deep. She was about 9 years old.

4. What awards did you receive as a child? My grandmoth sad she got an award for highest grades in Math.

5. What great invintion or special event may have changed your life? Moving from Mississippi to Kannapolis North Carolina to make her home.

6. What can you add about how times have changed since you where a youngster? there is more of everylhing. I would like to note that the "t" in everything is not crossed on the paper.

Weirdest Headache Ever

Well, I had my first migraine headache on Friday. How do I know it was a migraine? Well, I had the migraine with auras - flashing colors and blind spots. I described it first as a prism that started in my vision and then it grew into a VERY LARGE, sickle-shaped object of flashing colors and blind spots. It had black lines between colors so it kind of resembled a stained glass window or a kaleidoscope (only it was sickle shaped). And it didn't just occur in one eye, it was both. I felt generally odd/not right, and my neck (at the base of my skull) mostly felt like I needed to go get cracked at the chiropractor. I was a bit nauseated.


Luckily this vision part of this headache happened as I was driving into the driveway (making navigating into the garage kind of tricky). I then went upstairs into the den, began googling "prisms in vision" and then realized that seeing small things was all but impossible.

After several minutes in the dimly lit den, the vision started getting back to normal. Then...tiredness set it. I was wiped out!

While all of this going on, the left side of my face tingled a bit and I was having a really hard time making my thoughts come together to make clear sentences. I kept having the children check to see if my smile was symmetrical and to look and see if my tongue stuck out straight. It did. . . so I determined that there was no stroke going on - ha.

Today, my neck had the same cricked, needs to be cracked feeling, but no headache or vision event. Go figure. Life is crazy sometimes.

The Biopsy That Turned Into a CAT Scan

It's been so long I almost forgot my login user name. How funny is that?

OK...Aunt Susie asked for a biopsy update. Well, the good news is that the surgeon sent me for an ultra sound instead of a biopsy. We scanned the swollen node and my thyroid (thinking that if something was wrong with it, that would be causing the swelling in the lymph node. Well, the long and short of it is that I have a small node on my thyroid. Apparently if you lined up 15 women, 12 of us would have one. This thing is no big deal. Unless it turns into cancer (which is a "possible" kind of thing, but not an "always" kind of thing). The lymph node measured 1.5 cm x .6 cm. Nothing looked abnormal. We are scanning the thyroid again in 6 months just to have two good baselines (kind of like a mammogram - you get one to have a picture so that you can see if things change when the next one is taken). This first one will be my picture that we compare the one in 6 months to.

In 6 months I'll let you know what happens.

July was All of Sudden a Long Time Ago!

July - that seems so long ago. It was a time and place where there was warm air and swimming. And a new puppy in the house. I know I have no readers left to speak of, but I'm going to try to get started again. We'll see how well I do. Please leave a comment regarding some of the things you want me to write about. The list of things that have been happening in life are all up for grabs - cast a vote - let's see if there's anyone still out there - lol!

So, what have I been doing since July?

August - creating and organizing a "mobile" storefront for the school store while the building is under renovation. This included buying a rolling "tool cart" from Sears (Craftsman - that later need replacing due to faulty wheels), and filling "school supply" orders for the 200+ students who have ordered them. Trying to plan a Happy Birthday for my son, Legare and also celebrating with my niece, Eliza - they share the same birthday. School Started.

September - the month got kicked off the my brother-in-law's death. He was 40 and passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. He laid down on his bed and never woke. Julia's birthday was the day after his funeral. Life has seemed very surreal since then. This horrible family event was quickly followed by my dad's "roof" accident. Short story is that he fell off of a roof, got tangled in the ladder on the way down and compound fractured his tibia and fibula. This required emergency surgery and a rod placed in the tibia. I was also asked to be a board member for the fledgling theater company, "Threshold Repertory Theater". Oh, and I started a part time job. (this month left me feeling kind of numb).

October - My husband and brother-in-law's birthdays (back to back - 10th and 11th). Legare's football team is in the championship bowl and won. Bryan and Legare have taken up hunting with some guys from the team.

November - the first Thanksgiving without Thomas. My Dad was given permission to "toe touch". My first quail hunt - pretty cool!

December - Threshold RT held their first production (I was so busy and numb I didn't even attend - not that I didn't want to, I just couldn't produce the extra time anywhere in my schedule). Julia had her first round of exams (ever). Her lowest grade was an 88. Pretty good, I say. Watching her study was an event in, and of, itself. The first Christmas without Thomas. A first (and possibly only) snow of the season that happened the day after Christmas.

And that's about it. Oh, and I have been pretty tired and kind of convinced that my thyroid may be to blame. So I went to the doctor. He ran some blood work and all came back fine. I have a swollen gland in my neck, and because the blood work came back fine, he's sending me for a biopsy of the node. I go for the surgical prelim on Monday. This weekend our family will be spending New Year's with some dear friends who have invite us to join them at Sea Island, Georgia. Bryan and I will go the the ball at the Cloister. I'm kind of looking forward to this, except that Legare's new Leopard Gecko, Fleck, should probably be cared for - as well as Eloise. She's likely to scarf all of the food in one day instead of letting the free feeder do its work. I'll have to get on seeing if someone can take care of her and Fleck.

So - in a nut shell - that's what's been consuming my life since July. I know you have all been busy too. Comment or otherwise respond and I promise to post sooner than later! Welcome back, and thank you for coming back, AGAIN, to check to see if I've posted. You knew I would sooner than later!

- A

'Tis But a Mole Hill

Resume, resume, resume....my eyes are going crossed due to the nit-picking details that go into creating a resume. Oh, my neck...oh, my eyes.

Well, needless to say, that because of all of the time spent in front of the computer over the last week or so (or in the dentist chair because I broke my implant crown - yay me!), I have fallen behind on my laundry. But because I have been doing little loads at a time, Mt. Laundry is just a mole hill right now.

20 Years Later and I'm Finally Not Looking Back Quite so Hard

Today used to be a day that I watched for on the calendar. Watched for it. Waited for it to. And dreaded its arrival. The whole month of February used to cause me lots of stress (for many reasons that happened in a succession of years after the thing that happened on the 21st).

20 years ago, the 21st was a Tuesday, I believe. I was at college and was getting ready for a 4 way mixer (2 sororities and 2 fraternities)...it was going to be a blast - we even had a t-shirt printed for this one! I had eaten dinner and went back to my room to primp. My mother called. We chatted about the goings on of the day, and the Mixer that awaited me that night. Her call waiting beeped, and since this was the days before caller ID, she decided to let me go get finished with my party preparation and go see who was calling on the other line. So we said our "I love you's" and went about our ways.

I arrived at the party, began drinking some beer (not quite legal, but I was close enough know one said anything), dancing and taking pictures with my friends with the "Flash" (photographer) who was there. The party hadn't been going for too long when someone told me that Bryan was looking for me.

Now this took me by surprise, because we weren't mixing with Bryan's fraternity. Why in the world was Bryan here? This was really odd. They wouldn't let him into the party because he was not an invited guest, so I had to go the front for him. The look on his face was very serious. My mind kept wondering why he looked so seriously serious. We hadn't been arguing, no fighting, but my mind kept wondering why in the world he was picking a mixer as the appropriate place to break up with me. And what had happened for him to even want to break up with me?

I simply couldn't get my mind around it. Plus, I had just started catching a buzz, he was going to ruin that for sure.

So, as I get to the front, show him my surprise at him being there, and then try to get him to come into the party, he gently tells me that he needs to talk to me. I say o.k., let's talk. To which he tells me we should probably go outside. He's being very tender, not at all like he's getting ready to dump me, but my mind is still on the "what is he going to do, dump me?" train of thought.

So we go to the parking lot, and he somehow tells me (this is kind of blurry) that my dad has had a heart attack and that we need to go home.
....
....
....

Wait. Did he just say that my dad had a heart attack?! I was just on the phone with my mother and she didn't say anything (turns out that call waiting was the frantic phone call from a collegue of my father's that they had called 911 because they thought he was having a heart attack). Why would Bryan know and not me? Is Dad alive? When did this happen? How am I going to get home? Do I need to call my mom? Where is my mom? Is my brother with her?

Oh, so many questions. And Bryan didn't know how to answer them. All he could say is that my mom had called and needed him to come get me so that I could come home. At the time she called Bryan, Bryan thought Dad was alive. But I could tell he wasn't really sure.

So somehow I find myself back in my room on the phone trying to reach my my mom. I somehow get to the CICU waiting room. I don't recall how I got the information to even get the number to that phone or how I even knew which hospital to call. Bryan may have had that information. Before I can actually get to Mom, I remember that my Godparent's answered and told me that he was alive. They asked me how I was and then passed the phone to my brother. I knew I would get the straight scoop from him. He was 4 years younger than me and a Junior in High School at the time.

Joe sounded awful. Simply awful. He told me that Dad was alive. But when I asked if I needed to come home (tonight or could it wait until tomorrow), without hesitation he said that I had to come home RIGHT NOW.

Oh no. I don't even remember if I got to talk with mom or not. Everything got really blurry.

My mind started racing. I had a lot to get together so that I could get on the road ASAP. Bryan has said he would drive me ...I didn't need to be driving. Not only because I had recently had a few beers, but because it was late and it was a 4 hour drive to get home. I had to let my roommate and suitmates know that I was going home and that I didn't know when I would come back. Oh, and that I also wouldn't be attending our Sorority's formal in Atlanta this weekend.

I think I finally got home somewhere around 4:00 am. And when I say home, I mean the hospital. The 4 hour ride hadn't taken quite that long - Bryan had a good lead foot. Don't forget that 20 years ago was before all college kids had cell phones (it was even a big deal for parents to have cells at this particular time), so during this long ride home I had no updates on Dad's condition. Had he gotten better? Had things turned sour? Or had he really been dead this whole time and no one wanted to tell me over the phone?

I had no idea what the news was going to be when I arrived at the hospital.

I found my way through the maze of halls and up to the CICU, where the waiting room was full of loved ones. I think Momma and Joe were in the room (but they could have been somewhere else at this particular moment in time). I think my Godparent's were in the room. But I really don't remember who was there. I think it was Joe that I saw first. I think I burst into tears. Please, someone tell me if my Daddy is still here! That was all I could think.

I was relieved when I found that he was still with us. And apparently doing fine. I think there were more tears. The nurse found out that I was "the patient's" daughter, and she broke the "only every 4 hours" visitor rule and let me go in to see Dad. Mostly because Dad had been asking a lot about me. He was worried about how long (and how late) Bryan and I were on the road, and she knew it would ease his stress level (which would be good for his heart). So, the wonderful nurse let me in the see my Daddy.

My mom was the true Steel Magnolia. She did all the right Mom things. Hugs and kisses and lots of reassurance that Daddy was fine. She also warned me about all of the hoses, tubes, needles and machines that Dad was hooked up to. She didn't want me to be alarmed. She also cautioned me that I needed to be careful if I hugged him because his chest was burned from the 11 (yes, that was ELEVEN) different times they had to hit him with the defibrillator to keep him from leaving us.

Holy Cow! This was a much bigger heart attack than I was thinking it was.

So as I enter the room, I am relieved to see Daddy smiling at me. I think we're all a bit upset, but I was trying very hard not to be crying when I went into his room. I didn't want to upset him (most of you know what a great crier I am).

And Mom was right, there were more tubes, hoses, cuffs, and beeping machines than I had ever seen in anyone's hospital room before. And it was HOT in there. They had apparently pumped so much blood thinner in Dad, that at this point, his blood was running ICE. I swear it was every bit of 80 degrees. And even under about 4 thermal blankets he was still shivering.

Of course I hugged and kissed Daddy. Deep inside I was kind of afraid to touch him, I don't want to hurt him, or knock covers off of him and make him cold. He and Mom showed me how strong his heart looked on the monitor. He showed me where all of the monitor leads were hooked, and the bruises and burns on his chest (while kind of laughing I might add). And mostly he just looked like my dad. Only he was hooked up like he was in an ER-type TV show.

And then it hit me. I almost lost my Dad. I could have arrived and found my dad not here. At this point I had been running on adrenaline since about 9:00 or 10:00 (whatever time it was when Bryan came to get me). And the adrenaline decided to turn in to a rush of relief. And this rush decided to come over me as I stood there in Dadd's room. And I almost passed out.

That's right. I was trying not to stress out Dad, and here I go, almost monkey-ing in his room. I'm going to blame it on the heat in there. Did I tell you how hot it was in there? After I got a cold cloth (and I think some smelling salts, but I may be remember a part of a different hospital room story that I'll try to remember to write about later), I got myself together enough to try to keep it light and laugh at myself so that Dad wouldn't have to be worried about me of all things. And that's when I tried to have a moment of comic relief. And that's when I outed with, "Daddy, you know if you had done this 24 hours earlier, I could have saved the $6.00 I spent today at the Laundry Mat." (of course meaning that I could have brought all of that dirty laundry home instead.) I think it worked - we all laughed.

And that is what we still all laugh about today. Although today almost went by without me calling Dad. I actually saw him today and forgot to tell him Happy February Birthday. And when we did talk, he reminded me that next year he'll be legal. Good Ol' Dad!

20 years after a major heart attack, with no other cardiac events to follow, is a pretty big milestone I say. Along the way, he stopped smoking, was invited to DC to receive the Ecotrin Heart Award a few years later (the actual award was an amber colored, Bacarat crystal heart), and has lived to see both of children get married and become parents.

Happy February Birthday, Daddy!

(And if anyone wonders the reason for the heart attack...in short, an allergic reaction. To drinking non-stop coffee and smoking non stop packs of cigarettes as he got through the long hours of working around the clock to keep a television station on the air - and equipment repaired in it - after Hurricane Hugo hit in September, just a few months before.

It was so much nicotine and caffeine that he had basically saturated his body and his heart finally had an allergic reaction to all of it. No blockages. No bi-passes. Just no more nicotine and no more all day caffeine.)

Quick Hello

I've been online a bit more than normal lately. I frequent online often enough these days that I'm back to each person's blog LOTS before they've even had a chance to write something new...I think I need a new book to read.

But, I have found a fun game on Facebook - Guess a Sketch (which means I've been on FB more than lately too, which kind of scares me). Facebook just scares me in general for some reason. I shouldn't have said yes to friending some of those people who weren't my closest of friends in highschool; I've realized I don't really care if they can see what I'm writing or playing, but I do think it's kind of fun letting all of you guys know what's happening more realtime. Am I the only one that feels like this? That's the pleaser in me though, make everyone happy, sacrifice for all.

Anyway, got a phone call from the theater company that Julia wasn't chosen for a part at her audition. She seems a bit disappointed but overall ok with it. So, now she's all about auditioning for Helen Keller. I told her I'd take her to as many auditions as she wanted, she just needed to let me know when she'd had enough. I also reminded her that it takes lots of attempts -some of the most famous actors/actresses have been turned down lots. And she seems totally fine with it. I hope so. I am so proud of her though...finding it, wanting it, practicing for it. What an 11 year old she is!

Give Me The Keys, I'll Drive

I have been quite busy with plenty of things to do, keeping me away from here...laundry (I've actually done an ok job keeping it up to date this week), a trip to go see the Tigers play this past weekend, and lots of looking and re-looking at the e-receipts for this Friday's quick trip to Atlanta (I'm really getting so excited and I think she has no idea). In admiring the rental car reservation I was actually able to secure a new, and lower rate! So, good stuff is happening to all the re-looking I'm doing.

This past weekend up at Clemson was a fun one. We got there early and pretended we were still college students and graced downtown with happy hour and games of pool before we went to have supper at Calhoun Corners (where we actually got to see Danny Ford enjoying a meal - very exciting for all of us 40 year olds! Seriously.).

After the game, upon packing up, we realized that at some point during the post-game tailgate I lost my car key (it had been in my pocket and in cup holders). Now mind you, I never left tailgate, but the key was no where to be found. So at 11:30 I got to call AAA to help us find a locksmith to get a key made. The car was unlocked and a window was rolled down, and luckily I had the code for the key to be made, but there was no one on the locksmith list with AAA.

So we decided to tow the car back to the hotel (which is on campus and only (maybe) a mile away from where we tailgate so that we could try to find a locksmith on Sunday morning (Sunday morning of Labor Day weekend, no less).

Well, at 2:30, the tow truck driver #1 arrived and realized we didn't have a key (don't know why AAA didn't tell him that) making him have to wake up and dispatch tow truck driver #2 to come help us out.. Though I'm a bit panicked and kicking myself mentally, my friends had decided to turn this awkward situation into a party. All of them refused to go back to the hotel and let Bryan and I wait out the tow trucks by ourselves, instead, they insisted on turning up the music, tilting back the adult beverages (including some Boone's Farm - told you we reverted back to college days) and enjoying the moment. The tow truck drivers said it was the highlight of their night seeing these wonderfully crazy friends of mine in action. (Imagine lots of dancing and laughter - even some dancing on the flat bed of the tow truck).

At one point, while we were waiting on tow truck driver number 2, driver 1 was telling us he had to get the other truck because without being able to unlock the transmission and put it in neutral, moving my back tires to get it on the dolly would "tear her rear end up!". (said with the nicest of upstate accents). This of course sends Ashley over the edge with laughter. Her reply is (in her best mock, upstate accent), "Well, I know Anne does not want her rear end tore up!". Of course we all roll at this come back (including the tow truck driver) - I think it becomes the highlight of my evening!

So by the time we get my car on Driver 2's truck/hauler and get back to the hotel, it's 3:30 am. Oh, forgot to mention that during all of this, all of the loud music playing from one of the other cars has caused its battery to run low and we had to stop the hoisting up of my car to get my jumper cables so we can jump it off. The battery had gotten so low that Driver 2's "jump pad" didn't work. I got to crawl inside the car while it was suspended in midair to get the cables. Driver 2 did lower it a bit, but it was still UP. It was kind of fun to do this for some reason - another highlight of the evening.

And I know you're wondering, but yes we exhausted ourselves looking for the frickin' key. We unloaded both cars (twice - before and after we called AAA). We unloaded tailgate food. We reopened tailgate chairs. We used flashlights to search the ground. We even went back Sunday morning for one more once-over (I guess this would technically be called the twice-over). Nothing. And nothing now that everyone is home and unpacked either.

We did find a very nice locksmith who only charged us $125.00 on Sunday (Labor Day weekend) morning to come and cut us a key. He even threw in an extra key just because he was nice (seriously - this man was wonderfully nice). There was still some tension until he actually got the car cranked because. . .well you know. . . you just don't know if it's going to work until you know it works. With all the talk AAA had been doing about hoping we didn't have a computer chip on our key we were seriously weighing the options of how to manage the 4 hour ride back home without a car - ha (I don't think the friends we were with were coming all the way home until Monday). So if the locksmith hadn't been able to work his magic we would have been in a pretty tight spot!

So, let's hope I can do better this weekend as I leave the car at the airport. At least if I loose a key this time, I'm just a phone call and 20 minute ride away from having my husband deliver my free key!

P.S. Ashley photo documented this whole event, once she shares I will too.

My Relationship with Coffee

As a kid...I didn't like coffee. I tried to like it on and off for years, but it just never "took".

I have always enjoyed the smell of coffee; and on the occasions I would try it, I was always disappointed. The aroma of coffee is a wonderful one and it makes you (well me) feel like when you get it into your mouth it should be full and rich. But it was always just scented, hot water as far as I was concerned.

So I ate coffee flavored ice cream instead. Now that is what coffee was supposed to taste like: rich and creamy with that most heavenly smell.

As I started getting older I began drinking coffee as dessert after dinners at restaurants. With lots of cream (or some Bailey's). These moments were very few and far between as they only happened in restaurants.

Fast forward through college, through marriage, to 2004-ish. This is about the time I've had both of my children and they are both in pre-school. It's also about the time I was afforded the opportunity to meet other girlfriends (with children who had also gone to pre-school) for morning coffee every now and then. I will admit that at first I would get everything but coffee. Then I discovered Starbucks and its wonderful frappuccinos. Coffee just the way I like it - cool, rich and creamy!

Eventually I started realizing that this was ridiculous money spent. Especially when the Starbucks showed up inside my grocery store and became easy access. I also started realizing the ridiculous amount of calories I was adding to my day with these creamy delights. So I started going smaller (is that Tall or Venti - I can't remember) and I started to choose Latte's instead of Frappuccinnos. I still added mocha syrup, but I was trying to wean myself from my former days of all the mocha and caramel and whipped cream. I even started realizing that some of the local coffee shops were way better than Starbucks.

Then, almost two years ago, my sweet husband got me a Keurig coffee maker for Christmas. For those of you not familiar, this is a coffee maker that brews one cup at a time (cause I don't warrant a whole pot yet). You buy these cute little "K cups" (which you can now get at Costco, Target and Walmart, not just online), available in every flavor you can think of, and enjoy at the touch of a button. Instantly.

This machine came with a plethora of samples. I enjoyed the flavors and the different blends, I enjoyed the fun of ordering different flavors, and then I realized I was gravitating to "Newman's Own Special Blend" and was always disappointed when I ran out. This "Blend" was just yummy, basic coffee.

So today, I have a few flavored coffees (that I mostly save for use as after-dinner desserts), I am currently embracing regular 'ol coffee. Sometimes I still choose a diet coke on mornings when I am hot and sweaty (cold caffeine is better than hot caffeine on those mornings), but I am finally enjoying coffee that I tried for so long to like.

And did I mention that I still add lots of cream? Lots. I use Fat Free 1/2 and 1/2 because of this. (And it's only fat free because they've found a way to add more sugar).

Well right as I have started to really enjoy my coffee I have noticed that it's starting to taste kind of funny. Maybe I don't like it as much as I thought I did. Hmmm. Such a shame.

Then the brewer tells me I need to descale it. This means I spent yesterday brewing lots of white vinegar to clean it of the mineral deposits from our hard water. Yesterday was the third time I've had to do this since I've owned it. Descaling seemed much easier to do this time luckily. And it was worth it because man - the coffee is heavenly again this morning.

Coffee and I are safe for now.

That's One Wrong Step for Annekind

What am I doing, you ask?
Nothing. Everything. Getting back into routine.
School started yesterday and today is the first full day. The children have been very excited and have rushed out of bed each morning (we'll see how long that lasts - it's only day 2).

I am in charge of the school's store. Part of what we do is coordinate the purchase and delivery of school supply kits for the children whose parents have ordered them. Not a hard thing, but the week before last I was at school overseeing their delivery to the school and then I labeled and got them to the classrooms. Lucky for me there are not quite 200 people in the school and not everyone ordered.

After that we went to stay at the renovated Holiday Inn on Folly Beach for two nights. We had a ball! Bryan does some work for them out there and a lot of them knew him. They were always asking if they could get us anything. We felt pretty special. We enjoyed adjoining rooms, great food, good weather, fun and fruity drinks, the pool, the beach, and the kids enjoyed the fitness room and a room service meal while we went downstairs to dinner by ourselves on the second night (the children insisted - it was great). We played cards in the very relaxing lobby area that looks right out onto the beach, and overall enjoyed just sitting still for a while.

This past Sunday we attended the end of the year awards party for the swim team the children were on. Julia was awarded the "Coach's Award" for the female swimmer. And yes, I fought back very proud tears. The things they said about her were very rewarding as a parent.

I have spent the last few days (and will finish out this week) putting the finishing touches on the school store and its volunteer schedule and making sure any glitches with school supplies were ironed out. I also culled out 4 bags of clothes from the children's closets (that didn't fit them anymore) and have already dropped them off at Goodwill.

I've been busy. I'm tired. And I"m also sore. But the "sore" is because I took a good tumble next door on Sunday night. The same next door where the dog pulled me down and forced my hand at buying new jeans last year. This time I was out looking for the cat due to the fact that there was some serious "cat screaming" going on outside. It was about 9:00pm.

As I got outside I realized that it was very dark. The neighbors had all of their lights on so I head up their tall flight of very pretty, brick stairs to ask them if they would mind turning on their back light to see if we could round up Felix (the Trouble cat). We live on a cul-de-sac so their yard is quite a distance from mine and is also where the awful screaming was coming from.

As I near the top of the stairs (did I mention it is REALLY dark?) I could tell that a planter was right in the middle of the last step before you reach the landing. So I adjust my path, move to the right, grab the hand rail and continue to the landing(aka the front porch). As I do this, my left foot steps on something metal that feels like a grate (yes, I was barefooted - it's summertime. I'm in the south. I'm always barefooted. Even when it's not summertime) and I instantly started taking a quick ride sideways and backwards down the stairs, on one foot, while on top of this grate.

As I land (or you could say "as I fall") - it was a full-on splat on the entire left side of my body - I landed partly on the stairs, partly on the porch. My forearms caught my upper body and I found myself wondering what in the world my neighbors were thinking - cleaning their grill grate on the front porch!? My head couldn't get around that they had done this. Their grill is usually on their back deck, but this sure felt like grill grease I spatted in.

I picked myself up, still frightened for my cat, and headed to the door to let them know I was the loud "thump" they had just heard in the night. I was going to explain about the screams and the cat and ask them if they could turn on their back lights so we could see what was tangling with the neighborhood cats. On the way to the door my left and then my right foot did a "squish and slide" as I took my steps. It dawned on me that this "grill grease" I thought I landed in was probably not "grill grease" at all. Instead, I think it's PAINT. And I had just immediately prior to these steps landed fully in it from the hip up. Yay, me!

So I freeze (so as not to get paint on any part of their white and brick house - it's on the market I might add - or any more of me). So there I was frozen in mid stride with the left leg in the air. I stopped. I thought. And then I knocked on the door with the back of my hand.

After they opened and I apologized for it being so late and explained why I was coming over at 9:00 pm, I reminded them that their porch was wet and that I had been successful in splatting myself right in the middle of it. I found out that the paint was in fact stain and sealer, not paint. Yay me, again! This was not as bad as I thought it was. And though I felt like I had done the equivalent of a snow angel in it, it didn't seem to look horrible or be as all over me as I thought initially. (My clothes ended up being fine...I'm still waiting on a return phone call to see what the mess looked like Monday morning.)

Back to the story...we went to the back deck and looked for the cat. Julia then let us know the cat had come home and my neighbor lovingly led me with a flashlight through the dark to home (I'm sure he was hoping I wouldn't fall again). Once inside, I told Bryan what I had done, and as I looked down I realized that I had "knocked the bark" off of my ankle, knee and hip. And the ankle was bleeding a bit. And everything was a bit swollen. And I was feeling it all pretty good at this point. I wiped off and laid down and Bryan brought me some Advil. I awoke Monday morning and didn't hurt as bad as I thought I might and began picking all the flaking skin from each of the areas. (I told you the bark got knocked off...more like scraped up and I chose to pick it to get it to come all the way off).

Today - well, today my ankle still stings a bit and the hip still has an egg sized lump. Not the goose egg that it was, more along the lines of chicken egg today. I can see the beginning of a bruise on my hip, but most of the other swelling in the ankle and all of the swelling in my knee is gone. Bryan and I decided we need to demand some free dental work (or teeth whitening paraphernalia) since this is the second time I have come home with skinned up legs from their house. Did I mention the neighbor is a dentist? But we aren't really the suing kind. And I like these particular neighbors a lot. So instead, we'll just laugh about it.

Seriously though, I did call yesterday to see how badly I messed up the porch and I still have not heard from them yet.

So....in a nutshell, that's what I've been up to lately - what about you?

Eeewwwhhh!

You know that sunburn I just posted about?
Well, it's getting ready to peel (and that's not what I think is eeewwwhhh, by the way). Wanna know how I know? Well....

Turns out that the cocoa butter has done a pretty good job. Bryan's back is very itchy and as of last night didn't look like a peel was coming any time soon. He checked mine out and thought the same thing. He actually even stated that mine had totally soaked in.

And then, just now, as I'm sitting reading all of the blogs I like reading like magazines (moose in the kitchen, nothing but bonfires, etc.) I felt as if I was itching at the base of my neck just under the collar of the shirt I'm wearing. So I reach back to give it a good scratch - thinking to myself,"self, the peeling has got be going to start soon - Bryan must not have had good lighting".

And just as that thought was clearing my head (here comes the eewwhh) I realized that the spot I was scratching was kind of wet and gooey. It then dawned on me that I must have popped a blister (as of last night there we no blisters). And sure enough, there was a bit of peel-ish skin that I could get off my back, and now it's kind of stinging. And itching. I can't wait to get Bryan to look at it and report. Maybe I can figure out a way to see it in the mirror (more eeewwwhhh I know, but you have to admit it's like a car accident - you don't really want to know all of the gross details but you look in spite of yourself).

Weird. Not HaHa.

Well, it'll be 3 weeks on Wednesday since my surgery.
All is still going well. I have been told that the tiredness of anesthesia has an equation.
It takes 3 weeks for every hour you were under for it to totally get out of your system.
That means I have 4 1/2 more weeks to go before I stop feeling tired after taking a shower or walking 100 yards. Just about 1/2 way there.

Everything is going rather well, I'd say. Except . . . my boobs still got sore this month as if I was getting ready to start my period (I do still have my ovaries, so hormones definitely still work). I think "it" would be happening about now. Imagine my surprise today when I realized that my abdomen is a bit swollen. Could it be bloating? What is there to bloat? Or could it be that I really just walked a hell of a lot today as I was getting Legare situated at camp?

I guess I'll know better next month if it happens again. Kind of funny (weird, not haha!).

Terrible Tuesday

It actually wasn't so terrible, I just couldn't think of something better to title this post about the odd things that happened to me yesterday - Tuesday.

It started out rather grand. Aileen (and her parents) had come to be with children while I went to the doctor for my two week checkup on Monday. This lead us to my children having a spend the night Monday night with Aileen and her family. All children involved were VERY excited. This lead to a wonderful evening of Mexican food for me and SLEEPING LATE on Tuesday morning.

Who am I kidding, my kids don't ever bother me in the morning - they're old enough that they rise and go do their thing without needing any help from me - usually. It still made for a very quite house. Bryan even woke later than normal and he even shut the door to the bathroom to filter the shower noise so I wouldn't be woken. It was great.

After he kissed me good bye, it didn't take but about 1 minute for him to be running back up the stairs hollering for me. Apparently our garage fridge had stopped working.

What? There were two frozen casseroles, frozen chicken packages, numerous frozen pizzas, one and 1/2 frozen popsicle bags and numerous "No Worries" drink mixes in the freezer. There were diet cokes (which is what he was going for), a full case of beer (which I'm sure will now taste bruised), a full bottle of uncorked wine and some Red Bulls that had been left here by some one some long time ago.

All of it had to be brought upstairs. To the already full fridge up here. Well, 20 minutes later the fridge up here was packed. TIGHTLY. with the things from downstairs. You know, most of you know what my house looks like, but for those of you who don't and are a bit confused by the upstairs/downstairs thing...our house is raised. We park our cars underneath on one side; the other side is finished and is the children's play room/media room. Upstairs is the actual house. All of the living space "upstairs" is on one level. There's not a second "upstairs".
The refrigerator "downstairs" was left here inside the house and when we moved ours in upstairs, it moved down to the garage to become a holding tank for food/frozen items and a pool beverage cooler. This morning I realized I how much we have been relying on it. I love our ugly little fridge down there.

A little putting 2 and 2 together and we have decided that the freezer door had not been shut fully upon last use causing this meltdown (I think that was me, by the way, not a child- ugh - and I know better). The fridge is now cycling again...items to be moved back down soon.

Then, I decided I had to vacuum. Even though Julia had done it for me on Sunday. The shedding of the cats is making it an every day necessity for the moment. The doctor told me to let my body be my guide. And since we have an in line vacuum system and I'm not toting around a big, heavy machine, I decided to vacuum the den and kitchen. I'd say it went rather well.

Then, about 5:00 as I'm getting the children fed an early supper so they can be full for their swim meet, the craziest thing occurred. As I was walking down the hall I had the feeling like I had just peed. Just like that. No warning, just the sudden sensation of "you've just wet your pants, you idiot". It came from no where. I was instantly irritated because I had been so excited and encouraged on the urination front since this surgery of mine. I couldn't believe this had happened.

So, I go to my the bathroom (I was just leaving the one in the hall), and what do I find? Instead of peeing on myself (in my pants), I find that I have actually sprung a leak. A blood leak. And it's more than a leak, it's a gracious, gushing amount.

I panic.

Of course, I have a fantastic doctor and she has given me her cell phone number. I call, we chat, she's going to call back after we give it a minute to see if it'll slow. I call Bryan crying and get him coming home. I call another mom in the neighborhood to get her to come get my children for the meet, I call my mom do get her on standby.

Doctor says this is probably nothing, hematomas sometimes bust through the suture line left behind "in there" and this occasionally happens, but she wants Bryan to bring me to her office anyway so we can all know and not have to wonder all evening.

So, a trip to her office and an elapsed time of 2 hours later - sure enough. . . no big deal. I've been prodded and poked and swabbed down, put on antibiotics, and told I would be sore for the next day or two because of all the poking, etc. to make sure to take some ibuprofen. Resume activities as normal. Vacuuming is o.k. (quick aside, when Mom asked what I had done earlier in the day activity wise and she learned of the vacuuming she actually scolded me with my maiden name. You know I was in trouble with that - ha).

And another aside, did you know that the Publix grocery store pharmacy offers FREE, yes, free oral antibiotics? So my generic Cipro - FREE. Thanks doctor for calling that one in!

So more of a crazy Tuesday. Not really a Terrible Tuesday. But Crazy Tuesday just doesn't have the same ring to it.

Recouperation Update

Today (Wednesday) is exactly one week post surgery.

Yesterday was the first day with no serious drugs - all Tylenol. All day. Pretty good!

Last Wednesday: that was surgery day. I woke from it groggy and remember being very concerned at how bad the need to urinate was. I was told to relax - I had a catheter - ffyewff. I spent the night in the hospital after Bryan ran around trying to find some ice cream for me (Ben and Jerry Smores is very good, by the way). I could tell that though this was a major surgery, this was already better than a c-section. And I had two of those.

Last Thursday: I got the catheter out and peed for the first time. It took some patience, but I peed without having to press like a mad woman on my abdomen. Yay. Going to the bathroom got better as the day went on. I was told by my doctor that scar tissue from the c-sections had cause my uterus to suck up tight around my bladder...it was no wonder I had become a Detrol LA kind of girl. I arrived home from hospital around 3:00.

Friday: Sweet husband had a weekend engagement that had been planned prior to surgery so the kids and I moved to Mom's for weekend. I Realized 1/4 of the way to her house that I was uncomfortable riding in her car, and that even though I had gone to the bathroom immediately prior to leaving the house, I had to go again. I was quite uncomfortable sitting up. Since we were in the middle of the connector and there was no place around, I told mom to go to the Jr. League office (which was right around the corner) Having volunteered with them for 11 years paid off when the office manager met us at the car to help get me in to the bathroom before I peed on myself and in Mom's car. I felt much better after that! After arriving at Mom's I began to realize I was "going potty" every 10 minutes. This is for the birds. I started making myself wait 5 before I allowed myself to go each time and by the end of the day I was going every hour on the hour. Clock work, baby! I had also tried to take Tylenol in the middle of the day instead of Percocet because I was feeling pretty good (I had taken Percocet after all) and I ended up sitting around all day... ***ALERT REFERENCES TO FEMALE PARTS COMING- TO AVOID READING THIS SKIP TO NEXT PARAGRAPH. NOW!!!*** ... I said I sat around ALL DAY feeling as if I had been a participant in a marathon dry sexual experience with a really large member of the opposite sex. Very Dry. Very Large. I was raw feeling. It was not good! I was back to the percocet at bedtime.

Saturday: I decided to continue with Percocet on Saturday; the feeling in the private region from Friday went away - YAY! Peeing was getting longer than 1 hour at a time too. All in all, a pretty good day.

Sunday: We moved back home on Sunday. My poor children had only spent Thursday nights in their beds since the previous Tuesday and were ready to be home. Julia didn't even stay in her bed that night because she was bunking with her brother while Mom and Dad were with us. We had the 4th in a line of fantastic meals Momma fixed for us and since we were at my house now and Bryan was home, he got to partake too. Up until now, I have been waking every morning knowing I had had surgery and taking proper pain meds for this.
I had great advice from a friend prior to the surgery; she told me to stay in a nightgown until I was ready to be back to normal. This keeps my brain and the brain of those around me in "Anne is still recovering" mode. So far this has been fantastic advice. At some point I have, however, moved to more of a beach cover up type of gown. And since it will need washing soon, Julia and Mom run out to try to find something for a "change" with no luck (our Wal Mart sucks - Belk finally delivers).

Monday: Julia starts volleyball camp, Mom and my sweet Mother In Law (MIL) have passed the baton and now MIL has the reins. Unfortunately, there was a death in the family over the weekend and she has to leave me for a little over an hour. But she returns with glorious Andolini's pizza for lunch for everyone. I spend the rest of the day in my gown on the couch with MIL, FIL and BIL. It was a nice, relaxing day and wonderful meal followed (I've certainly been fed well). Today I would say I was feeling pretty good! I didn't even take a nap. I started the day with pain meds and the Tylenol really did keep the edge off this time for the remainder of the day.

Back to Yesterday - Tuesday: It's officially 7 days post surgery. I woke feeling a tad uncomfortable but Tylenol was all I needed. All day. Yay! Just before lunch time I had a crazy dizzy spell and really thought I was going to pass out. MIL said my color was bad enough she was afraid I was going to pass out too. I kept a bit of a dizzy feeling for the next few hours, but this passed and I continued on the path of recovery. I decided (with the help of husband and MIL) to forgo the kid's swim meet because of the dizzies (Julia placed 2nd in IM and swam up in the 11-12 relay for a 1st place, and got another ribbon or two but I can't remember which stroke - Legare placed 1st in his relay and would have been 1st in his freestyle heat had it not been an exhibition heat).

And now, here I am on the brink of Wednesday up at 5:00 because of the pant-y, scared dog (thunderstorm). My stomach has one place on it that has an odd feeling. I know it must be where some of the scope or tools went in, but it feels very odd. I have the ugliest bruises you ever did see from one hip bone to the next. Luckily they just look like bruises, they don't feel like bruises. Over all I'd say I'm feeling pretty good. Dad says he's amazed at how well I've recovered and how quickly. He remembers Mom's 12 day hospital stay when she had her hysterectomy. thinking to self: does anyone really stay in the hospital for 12 days anymore? short of being a premature birth or terminal? hhhmmm?

I am, however, very hungry and craving doughnuts for some reason. I guess that's my body's way of saying I need to boost my blood sugar. Maybe that will keep me from getting dizzy. Think I'll have to try that!

T Minus 60 Minutes

The long awaited surgery is here. I have to be up in about 55 minutes to get myself ready and shower with the "Professional Degermer". Seriously, that's what it's called.

And of course I have had a horrible night's sleep. I have been prepping my house for days for my being down and off of my feet for a few days and still have more to do. My sweet husband was so cute pleading with me to leave the house alone and get some rest. So I finally got in bed around midnight. WIDE AWAKE.

I tried to watch some TV. I tried turning off the TV. I got up a few times and went to the bathroom "one last time" (I can't wait for this surgery to help cease that activity). I then noticed my back was in a crick (all of the nesting and cleaning did that today I think). I got up and rolled on my back thingy. I finally fell asleep.

I have had fitful sleep. I woke about 30 minutes ago and came to the couch to send Bryan an email of people for him to email after the surgery is finished. (Movin', it just dawned on me I should have put you on that list - I'll let you know separately.) I'm chalking up this fitful sleep to the way you feel as a child waiting for Santa to come....so excited that he's coming, yet a bit nervous that maybe you were bad and he's really not going to visit your house.

This surgery has the potential to do so much more than just cure me of my monthly curse. It also has the potential to take away much of the constant tiredness and a good majority of my peeing issues. Of course all of this excites me.

I am a bit nervous just because what if it doesn't help with those things....but those really will be a bonus, not the main reason for doing it in the first place. I also am nervous that I'll miss the alarm, be late and have to reschedule this thing. And I don't want to do that. I am also on edge because I want a drink of water and it's past midnight, so I can't have anything. Which also reminds me that I can't eat now either. Which of course makes me hungry.

Just yesterday when Legare learned that I couldn't eat after midnight, he was very concerned for me and asked if I would be able to eat again after my surgery. I think he was bit nervous that I may never get to eat again. It was pretty cute!

So now I have 35 minutes before I need to get up - ha. At least I'll get some good sleep tomorrow, right? Ooops, that's really good sleep later today it is "this morning" already. Maybe I'll get good sleep. But maybe not, they don't usually do a good job of letting you rest when you're in the hospital. You know, all the constant checking your vitals every few hours. Sleep is sometimes pointless.

Anyway - I have Mad Libs for people to fill out with me when they come to visit (my children are looking forward to that), and I have cards to play with for those staying a while. I also have a book if I find myself alone and not sleeping.

So - T Minus 20 minutes 'til shower time.
Singing Off

The Latest Ailment

Well - I've been 40 for a few weeks - let me recap the ailments.
I talked earlier about sweating more at night. I have also noticed that I need to take things further away from my face sometimes to focus...not too far yet though - no readers needed. And then Sunday, walking up the beach boardwalk to my friend's house, I caught my second toe in a crack between the dock planks. I think I was gripping with my feet because I was pulling a load like a pack mule. Anyway, this severely pinched/smashed/pulled my second toe - feeling like I may see blood when I looked down. But luckily - no. However this mash did cause throbbing while trying to sleep Sunday night and I now have the prettiest, deep purple, toenail circling bruise you ever did see.

Then today - while I was laying back over the shampoo bowl while getting my hair done, my stylist (also a cousin and God mother to one of my children) showed some alarm at the amount of hair coming out of my head laying in the bottom of the bowl. In the short stint over the bowl she had to clear my hair from the drain 3 or more times to let the water out. Then while combing me out it, seriously, looked like handfuls of hair came out with each comb through.

(Thought you should be aware that I only have shoulder length hair - no Crystal Gale here).

Of course, me being the crier that I am, began to cry during the combing and getting opinions of the other stylists in her salon. I was a bit scared, and a bit in disbelief. What in the f*!% is happening to me now? (not that there was anything really going on before).

So, I had her give me all of the hair that she had been wrangling and we put it into a bag (well a plastic bag similar to a hair net - I was at a salon you know)...'cause don't you know I'll be headed to the doctor soon to check the levels of thyroid, stress, hormones, genetics that may be causing this.

In the meantime, my stylist suggested that I begin saving hair after each shower and blow dry to compare...it could be levels of all those things mentioned above, or it could just be "Summer Shed" (my term not hers). So we'll see! I'll keep you posted.

Party's Over Said the Girls

Warning!!!!! Female talk coming. If you don't have the stomach for, and don't want to read my discussion of my breasts, now is the time to go away and come back another day when there's another post.

Seriously, breast talk follows. Mammograms, bras, breasts. Here they come. Consider yourself warned.

So, back to the topic at hand:

Yep, the party is officially over. With yesterday's mammogram, my personal birthday celebration came to a screeching halt. For those of you who've never had one, let me re-cap - and those of you who have, feel free to nod your head in agreement.

The office is very understated. Nicely decorated, but understated. Warm tones. Dimmed lights. All around "faux spa" I'd say. I arrived about 30 minutes early (they wanted 15). I was very excited and surprised that I got called back almost immediately.

I was shuttled to the nice little changing room where I was asked to strip off the shirt and bra, use the individually wrapped wipes to remove any deodorant (if I forgot and applied some - I had not), and asked to put on the dinner napkin sized modesty gown/cover up napkin. It was pretty and blue. It was not so much a hospital gown as a butterfly sleeved, halter top napkin. It was split completely from top to bottom, much like its cousin the hospital gown, but this halter top napkin's slit when in the front, not the back. Of course.

So, in I step to the "room" where the big machine waited. The very nice tech quickly exposed one of my "girls", hefted her up onto a very cold, grid-like platform, and instructed me to hold on to the handle. After much adjusting of Miss Left Side, the tech began moving the clear tray down. Smashing Miss Left Side. Smashing I say.

I was asked to pull Miss Right Side away from Miss Left Side with my free hand, look up, and get ready to hold my breath and be still. I don't know where she thought I was going with my left girlfriend gripped in the vice, but ok, I held my breath and remained still.

I looked down and my normally ample bosom was pressed to the size of a short stack of pancakes...very round and very flat.

After the smashing from the top, we released poor girlfriend, rotated the platform, and smashed her from the side. All I could think to myself was, "What would my husband be saying if he could see this?" It was pretty funny looking, and the thought of him seeing my girls like this almost made me laugh out loud.

Then, on to my second friend, Miss Right Side. Same thing: grab the handle, some manhandling by the tech to get her hefted onto the grid, and me giving a big pull of the other "Miss" to get her out of the way. Then, smash. Only this time, it felt like on the sideways compression that my ribs, way up under my arm, were getting pushed about. That kind of hurt, but at least it was almost over.

I swear the only reason we are given the "modesty, halter napkin" is to get us from the dressing room to the x-ray room, because I certainly wasn't covered at all during this procedure. This too is kind of funny and made me chuckle.

So, after the vice was released, I was handed a pretty white rose, asked to put my shirt back on, and was sent on my way.

Several times during the day I kept thinking to myself..."Self, this really doesn't seem like it's going to be as achy as the baseline mammogram you did when you were 35." I even thought this several times during the day.

Then, nightfall came. And bedtime. When I took off my bra, I swear my sweet, tender, lovely, wonderful friends felt swollen and hot. No kidding! And I swear when I took off my bra, all of the squeezing and mashing had caused them to hang much lower than before. I really am not kidding! I made my husband look, feel, and give his opinion. He was glad of this, but said he thought I was just imagining things on the extra droop, but agreed with the raised heat factor.

As I lay down, with my girls "let out of confinement" it started to sink in. The achy, wow why am I so sore, feeling. I wasn't as home free as I thought earlier in the day. This was true ache. Bruised even. I went back to the mirror to see if there was bruising anywhere. None. Whew.

And even today I feel like my chest has been involved with some kind of smack down. And "they" say this whole ordeal is even worse for my smaller breasted sisters. Well, all I can say is, we'll exchange notes after you've done this a few days before your impending femaleness arrives. Why didn't they warn me about this when I made the appointment? I should have known.

So in conclusion, my birthday celebration is over. With the mammogram, the girls need a rest from all of the celebrating!

Told you there would be lots of breast talk!

The Day I Turned 40

Forty is good! Although it's kind of funny that Sunday night I woke drenched in sweat. Did I say "drenched"? I really meant "swimming in" sweat. I think that was my body's way of saying "Welcome to the club!".

I was born at 8:06 pm on April 19th. That's about the exact time we left Mom and Dad's Sunday night and we had some fun commenting about how now it was officially my birthday. When we got home and tucked the children into bed, Legare stopped me as I was leaving his room...
"Hey Mom."
"Yes, Legare?"
"I just wanted to say Happy Official Birthday."

Sweet child!

So, let me run down for you the events of the birthday weekend - it was pretty fun! On Friday I was supposed to go to lunch with two of my girlfriends. We always get together on each other's special days. This time we were going to the new restaurant BLU that I talked about the other week. I was very excited.

Well, when we arrived (I rode with one of the friends) and got inside I could see my husband's face. I thought, "that crazy guy, he said he wouldn't meet us today, but he did!". I was kind of excited. Then I realized that he was sitting at a large table with 4 other of my friends and family. A surprise birthday luncheon - just for me! How wonderful. After my friend Lisa and I rounded the corner I was told that we beat 3 others getting there, my mother and two other of my best girlfriends.

My friend Lisa, whom I arrived with, is the new owner of the hotel and restaurant and she was the one who gently guided my husband to making sure he did something special for me. It was wonderful! The atmosphere is nothing but happy (how can it not be with the ocean as the backdrop?), the weather was sunshiny and perfect, and to be surrounded by my friends and family - well that was priceless! I could go on and on about this luncheon, but I won't.

OK, maybe I will go on. But not on and on. There were menu cards at each place at the table. My name, the occasion, the date and the menu choices were all printed out these precious cards. The champagne flowed for toasts, and even the gifts somehow managed to all be color coordinated with each other and with the restaurant. (I couldn't find my camera on Friday so I don't currently have pictures, but some were taken, and when they get emailed to me, I'll share them with you). After all of the guests had arrived, Bryan shared the first birthday toast with us and then left us girls with the luncheon.

After the wonderful lunch most of my friends had to get back to children, but me, my mother and the two original "going to lunch for my birthday" girls headed to the bar for one more celebratory libation. This celebration truly was perfect!

Saturday was garage sale time. After a breakfast in bed fixed by Legare (waffles cooked on the iron by himself and coffee just the way I like it with cream and chocolate sauce - my version of a mocha latte) we were off. I don't usually do the garage sale thing, but my neighbor (one of the luncheon celebrants) called, and since our neighborhood was having a community wide sale we thought it would be fun to tool around the neighborhood to see if we could find some treasures. We also went to neighboring neighborhoods to look around. And that's where my finds came.

4 bar stools for $1.00 a piece. These are going in the playroom to offer additional "lean to" type seating. At the next sale I purchased a slightly used HydroSlide Pro XL for $10.00. Pretty good bargain considering husband was going to be spending close to $2oo.00 for one on some not so distant day in the future. At the same house I also purchased a pair of Hush Puppies brand bucks for $3.00 for Legare. These shoes didn't even have a scuff on the sole - I doubt they had ever been worn. They didn't even have lace marks on the tongue! My neighbor got some things for her niece including a $3.00 smocked dress that didn't have any stains. Husband and I spent the rest of the day cleaning the leaves from the pool, pruning plants in the yard and enjoying the outdoors.

Sunday - the official day - we started off the day by going to the Marina Variety Store for breakfast (I had the special - a shrimp, spinach and portabello omelet), a quick jaunt to church and then to Lowe's for another part of my present, plants and flowers to plant with the children; these went on the front porch.

We then went to Mom and Dad's for a birthday supper of homemade meatball subs and homemade banana pudding. Did someone say YUM! I got that Hamby's Catering cook book from Mom - yee ha! - and a nifty cooler cart and beach/boat necessities from my brother and his family.

The day was great! The whole weekend was great! So far, being 40 has been great! I don't really know what all of the fuss is about. The only thing so far that does stink is the sweat (which actually hasn't "stunk" in the true sense of the word - ha), and today's mammogram. I would say the beginning of that procedure will mark the official end of my birthday celebrating.

But then I'll be quickly off to Lisa's birthday lunch to begin that celebration. She's 41.

Birthday Time!

I'm turning 40 on Sunday. Everyone keeps asking what it feels like, or how I feel about it. First - I love my birthday (maybe that means I like attention or being in the spotlight). So, the fact that it's my birthday is great! The fact that it's "4-0"....uhhh. Who cares, really? I don't feel 40. I hope I don't look 40 - but if I do that's ok too.

It does feel quite a bit odd to think that I've been on this earth for 40 years. That seems (sounds like) a long time, doesn't it? "Forty". 1, 2, ...skip a few..., 39, 40!

Let's just think about the number 40 for a bit....
- If something only has 40 calories - you'd be kind of excited, only 40 calories is pretty good!
- If donuts came in a 40 pack that'd be pretty exciting too (though I don't think I could eat them all at one sitting).
- 40 miles per hour is kind of on the small, insignificant side of the available MPH scale. I mean, it's hardly considered going fast unless you're in a neighborhood. And you definitely need more MPH than 40 on the interstate!
- you'd want more than 40 kernels of popcorn. 40 just isn't enough to fill the bowl.
- 40 minutes - a lot can get done in 40 minutes.
- But you can't watch a whole movie in 40 minutes.
- You can Ti-vo through commercials and make a 1 hour tv show less than 40 minutes sometimes! Hey, you just got some time back.
- an extra 40 lbs isn't so good - unless you're ordering a pig for a bar-b-que.
- having 40 friends is good. AND, they can help with eating that extra 40 lbs of pig at that BBQ.
- a classroom with 40 elementary children would be a lot!
- But...if you were teaching science in college, having only 40 students in your auditorium classroom would feel like you had failed in attracting students to your course. You'd want to fill that auditorium, wouldn't you? You'll need way more than 40.
- getting 40 presents for your birthday would be great!
- writing 40 thank you notes may take a while - but 40 presents! Wow!
- And isn't "4" just a nice looking number? Much more pleasant to look at than a "3". So I now get 10 years of looking at cute, little "4"!


See there, 40 just doesn't come across like a bad, or threatening number at all!
As a matter of fact, there seems to me more positive things about 40 than negative. And, since I only feel 28-ish, I'd say I'm rather excited to have a birthday on Sunday; even if it is the BIG 40. To date, I have no problems with 40. Not too old, not too young. Just Right!

Things

Things I've pondered lately....

1) Why have I been getting blood spots in the eggs again lately?
2) Ooops - I forgot about my slow cooking (being boiled) eggs - wonder if they'll be any good?
(and by the way - they were peeping again at the beginning of this really long boil)
3) How inspired can one get from an 8 year old who gave up sweets for Lent?
4) Why do men loose weight so easily?
5) How did I get so lucky to make such a great friend in my (now not quite so new) neighbor?
6) Am I really going to be 40 next weekend?
7) Why have I not wanted to take the time to write a good post lately?
8) Spring is good!