Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Way to Go

Here are some thoughts for today:

Way to go, Wellsphere, I do not live in California. P.S. How do I fix that now? My best guess? Move to California.

Way to go, Charter Communications, for charging me double what my normal payment is - which is way too high in the first place. I'll be calling you later today.

Way to go, for introducing me to some of the worst people on the planet AND charging my credit card without my permission for another 6 months of misery. I'll also be calling you later today.

Way to go, Post Office. You suck. A certified letter comes and gets all screwed up. And now I have to go to the post office to pick it up because I happen to not be home when the mail arrives.

Saturday, September 26, 2009


I want to make changes to this site, my blog. I want to do a banner and make the background customized, and other things.

I have been chosen to be a featured blogger on in the Cystic Fibrosis community. Goodness knows why I have been chosen, but I have. So they feature my posts (all the content remains mine), and link to my blog. I figured it can't hurt, and if the guy who runs the site sees some insight in my blog that I'm missing, well that's cool.

But I really would like to update things around here, but I have no idea how. Help?

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Weight Wars

When I was in high school and college I looked like I had an eating disorder. People would come up and ask me straight out if I was anorexic or bulimic. I would tell them no, but that I have trouble digesting my food because my pancreatic enzymes don't make it to my intestines so I have to take them in pill form. I had people come up to me and tell me how much they wanted to be thin like me. All this time I was struggling to maintain my weight and trying to gain weight if I could. In college, just to maintain my weight I had to drink Scandishakes - 600 calories in 8 ounces. I hated doing them, but I had to get my extra calories somehow.

Fast forward several years and here I am, overweight. For my height, I am overweight. The chart at the doctor's office told me so. I need to lose weight and I don't know how. Blah blah blah eat less, blah blah blah more exercise. I know that. But does it work?

I am trying to maintain a diet where I eat between 800 and 1200 calories a day. I really like to stay closer to 800, but some days I am just so hungry I can't do it. I also like to reward myself with food when I am proud of myself - and if I eat just 800 calories and exercise, I'm proud of myself.

I'm also proud of myself for organizing the bathroom and working on my closet. I'm proud of myself for working on my book. I'm proud of myself for staying awake most of the day. For only needing one two-hour nap. I'm proud that I took the stairs at the parking garage at the hospital. I'm proud that I can exercise. I'm proud of myself, and normally I would reward myself by eating. Going out to eat, or eating lots of ice cream. But that ruins my diet. Silly circular mess.

I am currently organizing all my music files. It's made easier by a program I found that renames the weird ones (I have THOUSANDS of mixed-up, incorrectly named files). And the same program will find missing album art. I am in love with this program. Now if I could only find one for my email. I don't want to sort through all the thousands of emails I have waiting for me in Outlook.

And besides my weight, the other thing that is bothering me is my feet. They are dry and crackly and icky. They make me feel old and diabetic, so I am treating them with heavy moisturizer and clean socks.

I feel I really don't have that much to worry about - my weight and my feet are what's bothering me. Big friggin' deal. My lungs are healthy! I feel well enough to stay awake most of the day! I can exercise! These things are nearly miracles, and yet here I am complaining about how I can't lose weight or make my feet smooth.

I guess I'll just keep plugging away at the weight war. Just like most other Americans. But I am going to WIN this war, I don't care how long it takes. I swear I'm going to lose that weight, just to prove I can. And so my jeans fit again. I don't want to have to buy more sweat pants.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Happy 11 Months, Mr. Big!

I love you even when you are covered in blueberries!!!

Mr. Big turns 11 months old today!!!

I can't believe how big you are! I love watching your personality develop. Your parents are going to have a little trickster on their hands - but I love it. I love when you do something you think is funny. I love when you make you laugh. I love when we make you laugh.

I love watching you learn to walk - but honestly, it's okay with me that you prefer to crawl for now. That means you're still little a little while longer. I love hearing stories about you from daycare! You're in the toddler room now, and you're the biggest kid there! That's why you're my Mr. Big!

Recently, you tore up napkins underneath the table in your parents house - and I thought it was HILARIOUS. I find you hilarious. You're amazing - and every chance I get I tell someone about you. The things you are doing now, the things you like to eat (which is everything), the things you like to do best, and the ways you drive your parents nuts (like banging your head against stuff. Keep that one up kiddo, haha, and you're not gonna get into Princeton like we talked about).

I love you so much! Happy 11 Months!!!

Friday, September 4, 2009

Room Service

I love hotels. I always have. I find something romantic about them - it's something new and exciting and also comfortable.

I'm laying in a king bed at a hotel in Springfield, IL. I know, you're jealous because I'm on your dream vacation to Springfield. Mine has elderly, hard of hearing, and senile grandparents as a bonus!

Usually I would stay at their house like normal, but my grandmother doesn't own a pillow that doesn't have feathers, and down causes me to stop breathing. Pretty serious allergy. And it's really dusty there.

So here I am in a king bed in a hotel room. Poor little me. Did anyone count the number of pillows on this bed? It is six. Heaven.

Sometimes, I think I want to live in a hotel. I only cook with the microwave as it is, so that's not a problem. I think eventually I might miss my stuff. And the clothes I couldn't fit in a suitcase - I would miss them. And my shoes. And the Internet. I would miss my desktop and the now reliable, installed by my brother, internet.

So maybe I'll just order room service and enjoy my time here. But I'll definitely be looking forward to my next hotel stay!

-- Post From My iPhone

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