Feb 26, 2010

submarines, squid and man eating couches

If we're ever in a submarine together and we see a large mass swimming around us on the sonar, no one is allowed to say, "Well, whatever that was, it's gone now."

You know that's exaclty the moment the giant squid leaches onto the sub and starts thrashing.

So I lost my phone this morning. I haven't seen it all day. It's really lost, not just the usual, "Where did I set it down?" kind of thing.

Except that I think I just heard it ringing.

But the noise was coming from inside the couch.  I already checked under the cushions earlier, so now I get to try and squish my hand into the insanely stupid -and deep- crevices that exist for no other reason than to eat our belongings. 

Once, our couch ate the sound remote and we couldn't find it for like a year and a half.  And now it wants my phone.  I have the kids feed it cereal and important notes and the left sock out of every good pair we own.  It really shouldn't be hungry.

Sometimes I'm afraid it's going to swallow one of my kids whole.  I wonder if I get to pick which kid...

Feb 24, 2010


When I was in Kindergarten I had a crush on a boy named Sammy. He had red hair. He lived in a blue house. I never even knew what his last name was. And he moved away after that.

I used to love wearing toe socks in high school. But now, I can't fathom the thought. I can barely stand normal socks. And only in the winter. The second I can justify it, I'm going back to flip flops for any and all occasions.

My eye has grown a cyst. And there's blister-like bleb that won't go away. And I still can't open it all the way. And now that my stitches are coming loose and about to fall out, I feel like an angry parakeet is practicing latin dance moves over my eyeball. And worst of all, it seems like the surgery isn't working because my glaucoma pressure is going up again.

It's sort of depressing, so instead I'm reminiscing. Back when life was easier. Back to the days of Kindergarten and toe socks.

Feb 20, 2010

help me give

I used to have my own rubber stamp company.  Except that the economy sucks (newsflash!!!) and it wasn't worth keeping open.  But I still have a whole closet full of rubber.  It's smelly.  And I could really use that closet.

Also, remember when I mentioned these people?  Their daughter died on February 1st.  She was a month away from turning 4.  They've set up a non-profit organization called Emma's Hugs in her honor.  They use donations to help pay for the little expenses of dealing with a loved one in the hospital (a lot of the times it's the little things that add up the most, and it certainly doesn't help with stress levels.)

And I want to help out.  But I can't do it alone.

Click here and read about how I'm using that closet full of rubber entice people to help.  (Even if you don't like/use rubber stamps, I'm sure you know someone who does.  And by helping me spread the word you can help honor the memory of a special little girl named Emma.)

Feb 16, 2010

late to the lovefest

I meant to write this sunday.  But I like to procrastinate and then pretend that it's cool to mention holidays that are already over.

I even took pictures of random candy hearts that I was going to arrange into some kind of awesome love message.  But those will have to be posted at random sometime in the future.

So onto the mentioning of holidays past...

When I was in 1st grade I got a valentine that had "I love you" handwritten on the back.  I kept it.  But not because I felt a tingling in my cold little heart.  I thought that it would come in handy as blackmail.

But then when the same boy pushed me down in 4th grade on the one day I wore a dress to school, thereby exposing my panties to the entire class, I found out that I had become too much of a chicken and not nearly creative enough to get him back by using the aforementioned valentine.  Which was really a bummer now that I look back on it.

I've never really liked Valentine's Day anyway.  It's just a holiday to make people buy stuff and feel bad.  Either you don't have someone to share the day with, or you're married and it doesn't matter anyway. 

Also, I've never been big on the whole romance thing.  In my opinion, 'romance' is about as useful as a pile of soggy, half-chewed fritos that your toddler has shoved into the toe of your left sneaker. 

I have a heart of pure metal.  Not ice.  Metal.  It's cold and it doesn't melt.  Except in the summer it gets kind of hot if I'm outside too much.  And sometimes it heats up when I work out - which I try to avoid, since I prefer it cold.  I think most of the people who like romantic stuff just have normal hearts made out of guts and muscles.

Husband and I did swap gifts this year though.  He made me a bookmark.  And I made him something like this:

Except, you know, with pictures of us.  It's a rubix cube.  Which I though sounded like a good idea.  Until Two Bits got a hold of it and decided to twist the thing into an oblvion.

I spent a day and a half trying to twist that cube back into the right form.  People can do - it can be done.  I could do it! 

Alas, no.  I did manage to get one side into a completely accurate picture - except that the rest of the cube looked like a polaroid had puked on it.  Finally I decided it would be smarter (for someone with my brain capacity) to rip all the picture squares off and replace them to their correct spots.

I have no idea how people figure out rubix cubes.  I also have no idea how to play a guitar with my toes, but that's a whole other story......

Feb 12, 2010

off topic

There's something wrong with me.  I couldn't bring myself to get excited at all while Husband watched the olypmic's opening ceremonies.  Shouldn't I be automatically excited, you know, being a part of the world and all?

Maybe I'm an alien. 

That would explain so much.

I wonder if they have olympics on the planet I'm from?

But it did get me reminiscing.  Remember when the olympics were held in Salt Lake that one year?  I saw the actual real-live olympic torch that year.

I was a super newlyed  in those days and Husband and I lived in this ultra scary apartment in downtown Idaho Falls.  The apartment was actually a hotel built in like 1940 and then converted into apartments in 1970-something.

And had never been updated since.

The apartment was super cheap - which is why we lived there.  But it was full of some scary people.  Like the guy who liked to yell random phrases at me from his window while I scraped ice off my car in the morning.  Or the super creepy guy who frequented the majorly low class bar that was on the ground floor of the building, who once got in a fight outside and was laying in a puddle of his own blood when the cops showed up, and who would stare up at all the windows at night when he didn't think anyone could see him standing right next to the street lamp.

But when the olympic torch came through town, it was run right past our building.  I didn't even have to go outside (good thing since I remember being alone that night, and super creepy guy was out there.)  I just stuck my head out the window, snapped a couple pictures and can now lay claim seeing an actual olympic torch.

It was so nice when we left that place.  Our second place was a run-down trailer where you had to be careful where you stepped since there were holes under the carpet big enough you could break an ankle stepping in them.  It also smelled like something had died under it.  But it had a real actual kitchen, with an normal sized refrigerator AND an oven.  Also it didn't have super creepy neighbors, so it was a huge step up from our first place.

Our third place was an apartment above a 100 year old house where one time the septic tank practically exploded and we had to pee in a trailer in the back yard, and I was pregnant with Two Bits at the time. 

Our fourth place was student housing where something actually did die in the crawl space under it.  And it shared a ventilation system with the whole row of apartments so the Indian neighbors a few places down shared their very smelly meals with all the neighbors.  And a couple days after I had my second baby some people moved in next door and started smoking which came right through our vents.  I was so ticked off I pounded on their door and told them off - but they pretended that they only spoke Chinese.  Also a terrorist was arrested in that same complex and we had a resident rapist that never seemed to be able to finish the job without the girls getting away.

Wait...didn't this post start out being about the olympics?

Feb 10, 2010

I'm not fat, my scale just hates me.

That's what it is.

It's probably an evil scale anyway.  Always lying to me.  Telling me I'm fat.

The worst part about it is that the scale has also convinced all the mirrors in my house to play along.  And I know it got my pant size on board ages ago.  It's also managed to get the camera to cooperate, even though I treat that camera like one of my dear precious children.  And this evil, hateful scale has attached a big mound of blubber right on my midsection.

Well guess what scale - I hate you too.


I think showers are a waste of time.

You get in just to get all wet, emerge dripping, get a nice clean towel wet, redress yourself, figure out something to do with your crazy 'just got wet and now it's going to dry ultra fuzzy, don't even think about using a blowdryer' hair, and put on all the makeup that you just washed off even though your mascara could probably have passed for a whole extra day as along as you didn't see anyone any closer than the drivers side of the minivan while you pick up kids from school.

And this stupid shower routine takes time.  Lots of extra wasted time that you could be doing something important - like watching all the shows on Hulu that you missed last night.  Or, ok fine, working.  (But lately, more Hulu.  My eyes hurt - what do you expect?)

I hereby declare a shower strike.  You can join me or smell me - it's your choice.


Husband tried to convince me the other day that he's never prayed about pooping his pants in public.  I thought it was a pretty standard prayer. Mine usually go something like this:

"Oh please OH PLEASE don't let me poop my pants here in the kitchen aisle at Walmart.  I promise I will never eat another super sour cream, extra bean and oil burrito in under two minutes again.  I also promise to read my scriptures for 20 minutes when I get home.  Ok 25, 30, THIRTY MINUTES, and I'll participate in a service project, a good one, just pleeeeease let me make it to the bathroom.  Or home, can I make it home?  I don't feel like dragging all four kids into a public restroom for this.  Please let me make it home.  Although getting out of the kitchen aisle at Walmart would be a great start.  Please please PLEEEEASE."

I have never pooped my pants in public.  Prayer works people.

And don't even try to tell me that YOU have never prayed about pooping your pants. (I can't be alone in this, right?)


Have I totally repulsed you yet?

Apparently that was my subconscious goal when I sat down to blog.  I just kept typing whatever my brain told me to.

And now you know I'm just a fat, smelly person who tries not to poop at Walmart.


p.s. For the record, I showered this morning and I'm drinking Diet Coke.

Feb 7, 2010

post surgery

This is going to sound stupid, but no one ever told me that recovering from eye surgery was going to hurt.  I know, what did I expect?  They cut into my eyeball, why didn't I think it would hurt?

Stupidity?  Ignorance?  I just didn't want to think about it?

But good news - it's starting to feel better.  At least now the stitches have softened and I don't feel like I'm blinking over shards of glass.  But I still feel like hanging out in a dark room, because my eye has been fully dilated for almost a week and with all the blood trapped in my swollen lens it's like looking through a cloudy puddle.

Still though - doing much better.  I might even work a little tomorrow.

The floating consciousness thing was interesting.  I'm sure you're all dying to find out if I told my dr that he has an ugly mustache (or that I think he has Aspergers.)  Right?  Dying?

Starting from the beginning-ish: as soon as the guy with the drugs showed up at my bedside I said, "I want to ASLEEEEEEP."  And he said, "Oh don't worry, once these kick in you won't have a care in the world."  And I said, "No really, put me to SLEEEP."  And then he repeated his whole thing about how I wouldn't care that they were cutting holes and inserting things into my eyeball.

Once the drugs kicked in I didn't care that they were cutting holes and inserting things into my eyeball.  I was awake, but I wasn't.  I could hear everything (their conversation was boring, I don't remember any of it until the end when they started talking about Twilight.)  What I mostly remember is what I was doing during the surgery.

It was horribly boring - not even close to Oprah material.

I snored.  The whole time.  And I kept thinking, "I'm snoring." But I couldn't make myself stop.  I was awake, snoring, listening to a conversation about Twilight while they cut holes and inserted stuff in my eyeball.

I told you it was boring.

And now I just look like some kind of mutant because I can't open my right eye all the way.  And if sunlight touches it I burst into flame like a vampire.  I am a mutant vampire.

I can't wait to get the other eye done.

*****technical poo to follow - you don't have to read this part*****

When I was trying to do research on which surgery to have I couldn't find ANY cases of my same diagnosis for the type of surgery I wanted.  So this is for anyone in my same situation.

I am 28 and I have Juvenile Early Onset Primary Open Angle Glaucoma.  My dad and younger sister have it.  Both of them have had a Trubeculectomy on both eyes but I didn't want that procedure.  My sister has had both done within a year and it has resulted in some vision loss.  My Dad got his done when he was my age and now that he is in his early 50's the pressure is going up in one eye again, and if his drops quit working (which they usually and ultimately do) he's out of options.

I went to the only dr in the state that does other Glaucoma procedures and we discussed options.  I decided on Canaloplasty.  There isn't much, if any, data for patients like me and my insurance wouldn't cover it.  But I felt better about it, and it seemed like a better option for my case.  Plus my Dr was confident, he's done the procedure on quite a few people with success, and he is a research nut, so that's what we did.

I'm almost a week out of surgery.  My pressures dropped from high 30's to about 10.  It hurts and is swollen and bloody, but it's healing well.  The Dr thinks it was a success, and I guess we'll find out as time goes on just how successful it was.  I'm not sure if it is a permanent fix, or even that I'll get to go without drops completely.  But even if it has bought me 20+ years before I have to deal with high pressures again, then I'll be happy.  A Trubeculectomy is always a future option for me, since the Canaloplasty can be reversed.  And I'll be back into my contacts within a couple weeks, which is really nice.

A weird side effect, currently, is that my other eye (which will be having surgery soon-ish) had a pressure of 39 a day after the surgery, but at 3 days post-op it was at 18.  Apparently it's a weird phenomenon type thing (the Dr couldn't really explain it scientifically) where the other eye drops out of "sympathy."  I say that it's in a state of "What the heck?" and will climb right back up to the 30's once my eye recovers fully from the surgery.

In case someone ever actually reads this because they have the same diagnosis and surgery, and they're curious, despite my high pressures I don't have any glaucoma related blind spots.  However, it has almost completely damaged my depth perception, and I have been having an increasingly harder time differentiating shades of color and shadow.  I am no longer able to drive at night since to me the night time world is mostly black and white.  Aside from recovering in the dark due to dilation sensitivity reasons, I like to have as many lights on as possible because it is when I see best.

And thus ends my limited amount of info....I hope someday it might help someone with Glaucoma decide on surgery options.  Since google was absolutely no help when I asked.