New Post, but nothing new

Hello, I thought I'd post again...only I don't really have anything to say. I don't do anything all day but watch t.v. and feed the baby intermittently...I think maybe I should get a job or do something productive. So here's some pics: me with straight hair and Patrick and the baby. She's already bigger then she was when she was born (imagine that). Okay that's all. :)

Isabelle Rose

Aren't they cute? Labor and delivery was way easier than I thought it would be. With the epidural I didn't feel a thing...even when I was pushing. It was a little disconcerting to hear the woman in the next room screaming a few minutes later as the doctor was sewing me up and made me even more grateful that God invented drugs. If you look at this objectively, I was technically in labor for three days. I don't think I could have managed to push the baby out after that much pain, which is why the last twelve hours were spent in a hospital bed on drugs. Anyway, so we're both home now and fine....Isabelle is four days old and I've managed to fit back into my size 16 pants today (I couldn't Sunday) with room to spare...at this rate I'll be back in my tens by next week. I've already lost all but three pounds of baby weight and now that my milk has come in I think I look totally disproportioned and a little like Pamela Anderson. This is not as exciting as you would think since I look totally wonky to me and not at all like myself....and they are rock hard and painful, which kind of takes away from the novelty of big boobs. Okay, well I can't think of anything else so I'll leave you with another picture.

Adventures in Childbirth...or not

Monday night I decided that Patrick and I should go to a movie. The past few times we've done this I've started having contractions that have lasted for hours at a time. So we packed up the car and took off to see the late showing of Narnia at the new Denton Movie Tavern (see movies, and eat at the same time what a concept!). All was going well when, sure enough, I felt my first contractions. I had at least three contractions during the movie but, to my dismay they stopped. However I was encouraged by the fact that I woke up three times that night with my back hurting knowing that could be a sign of labor. Throughout Tuesday morning and afternoon my back continued to ache with varying intensity. This along with some not so story-worthy developments in the bathroom led me to believe that yes, I just might possibly be in labor. That night around ten I began to have contractions. Nothing too serious, one every 15 minutes or so....then every ten...by the time I went to bed at two am I was having very painful contractions every 7 minutes on the dot. Patrick and I went to bed convinced that the next day would see us in the hospital with a new baby.

Sleeping through these contractions proved to be a pursuit in futility, so the most sleep I got was during the four and six o'clock hours of the night when I managed to dose lightly between contractions, start dreaming only to be awakened by wrenching, muscle pulling, agony in my back. Seven am roles around and the contractions are now only five minutes apart and lasting approximately 50-60 seconds in length. We decide to go to the hospital. There are no problems checking in, as I had worried from my sister's experience. They showed us to a room straight away even before taking down my name and asking who my doctor was. Once this was accomplished and I was in a gown I was subjected to one of the most painful vaginal exams it has ever been my displeasure to experience. Apparently my cervix is naturally back pretty far...so far that the doctor has had to apply some serious pressure in order to reach it in the past. The nurse attending me was short and chubby with fingers to match. Her thicker than usual appendages along with their short length and what I swear was a pointy fingernail (as well as fighting contractions every few minutes) made this very unpleasant. Once she was done she asked me if I had been dilated at all during my previous visit. I reported that the doctor said it was at a fingertip and the nurse then told me I had widened to 2 centimeters. So I was making progress, but nothing near what I thought I must surely be after that sleepless night. She then hooked me up to a fetal monitor and blood pressure cuff and said that they would chart my progress for the next hour or so and see what was happening. She then left me strapped to this machine on a very uncomfortable bed.

My nights forays had already proven to me how painful contractions were if forced to lie in a bed and I was very disappointed that I wouldn't be able to walk. I consoled myself with the idea that they were just setting up my rhythm or whatever and would probably let me loose later. So I lay there suffering, when the mid-wife from my clinic came in (differnent one than I have mentioned previously). She informed me that Dr. Reaves (my OB) was off today and she would be the one attending me should I deliver. I was fine with this and after reporting that I seemed to be doing well, but that my contractions were still pretty far apart, she wanted me to drink some ice water and walk around uninhibited for the next thirty minutes to see if that would help speed things along. I was uplugged (still with the itchy and now sliding belts around my waist), given a thing of water and left to my own devices. I walked around and around the enormous room in nothing but two hospital gowns and my husbands coat (it was freezing in there) peeing frequently until they returned. To my dismay I noticed the contractions coming less regularly and not lasting as long and braced myself to be sent home.
Once I was hooked back up I was again left for twenty minutes of monitoring. Sadly the machine seemed to be noting the decrease in frequency and intensity as well, but I was still subjected to yet another exam by short fingers who declared that, while I did appear to be in early labor; my contractions coming at regular 5-6 minute intervals (quoting from a sheet she later gave me) and lasting 50-60 seconds, and even though she could see that they were painful, they weren't accomplishing anything and she and the midwife felt I would be more comfortable spending the day at home. However they were concerned that I didn't get any sleep the night before and gave me to Ambien pills that would "cut out the annoying contractions that weren't accomplishing anything, but let the more painful ones that actually were doing their job to stay(annoying? as opposed to the painful ones? they were ALL painful!) so that I could get some rest without halting my progress completely." She thought that after laboring/sleeping all day I'd probably be back in this evening around dark. She told me to only come in when the contractions were three minutes apart and so painful that I had to stop walking, lean on something and pant during them. I responded with; "yeah, 'cuz I haven't been doing that already." Anyway, so I took the pills she offered and listened as she explained the discharge procedure and gave me a paper indicating signs of "active labor" (which aside from the dilating part were EXACTLY the signs I was experiencing). So I got dressed and Patrick and I left the room.
Down the hall at the business managers office, we had to wait for her to finish with another lady so we could sign out. As we leaned against the wall I had another contractions and suddenly lights were flashing and doors all along the hallway were closing. The hospital was experiencing a lock down drill in which apparently each nurse at the station is responsible for observing specific exits while another checks patients or something. Seeing we were going to be there a few more minutes, Patrick suggested we sit in the waiting area. Just then the drugs kicked in.
I turned to acknowledge this idea only to have the whole room turn with me, somehow my equilibrium was completely screwed up and I could no longer stand up straight, nor walk in a straight line on my own. Patrick helped me to a chair and I found I could not hold myself up. I asked him to sit next to me and collapased on his shoulder. I had been holding the papers we needed signed and apparently dropped them when I became distracted by the pink and golden stuffed monkeys that appeared to be dancing around the room (seriously). Some time later (?) Patrick helped me up and was taking me to the elevator to leave (he had gotten the signature). I was having extreme trouble putting one foot in front of the other and wondered if this was what it was like to be drunk. The nurses at the station asked if I would like a wheelchair and I responded with "no, I can do it!' to which Patrick was forced to go along with. He held me upright in the elevator and assured me that the children getting on as we left did not have flaming pinwheels in their hands. I rested against a counter feet from the door as another contraction took me. Only this time, instead of grimly staring at my watch waiting for it to pass and mentally judging how long I had until the next one I was more like; "la, la, la.. ow! ow! ow! why am I hurting?! ow!...la, la" The nurse at the check-in counter asked if I would like a wheel chair and I again assured her that "no! I can do it!" Patrick helped me slowly cross the parking lot where I had way too much trouble navigating curbs and settled me in the passenger seat. I had the fleating thought that the seat was more comfortable then the hospital bed before I was day dreaming again....I don't know about what....I surfaced 2-3 times on the trip home to look at the harsh colors and sharp buildings passing by my window in bemusement. I wondered where we were and what we were doing. At home Patrick tried to get me up to bed, but I insisted that I wanted to eat first. I slowly navigated my way through some cereal (who knew spooning up food and getting it in your mouth could be so hard?) before Patrick half supported, half carried me up the stairs, which seemed much longer than they actually were. In the bedroom I lay down sideways on the bed and seemed to think Patricks idea of righting myself so that I rested on the pillows was stupid as this was obviously the most comfortable position to be in. He asked if he could get me anything just as I realized I was going to throw up....he hurriedly grabbed a bucket and got it to me just in time to catch my just finished breakfast. I then lay down and knew nothing until sometime later when I woke up to use the bathroom.
When I woke up it seemed I was tied inside a large hoop by many small threads that someone was pulling on intermittently. Me and various parts of my body (who all had separate personalities) were very cunning in our escape and made it to the bathroom undetected. After relieving myself (with a near-fall as I overbalanced trying to lower myself to the seat) I reassured the scabs on my leg that we could sneak them out as well...I then made my way back downstairs where I opened all the blinds and attempted to research Ambien on the internet. This didn't turn out so well and I went back to bed. Later when I woke up for real Patrick informed me that he had found that hallucinating was one of the possible side effects of this drug and that I should discontinue use should this occurr.

Since then I've had a few sporadic contractions, nothing near as painful as the ones I had all night and this morning and have all but resigned myself to checking in tomorrow night to be induced. As I was leaving and the nurse was telling me that I'd probably be back tonight she said it looked like it would be a long labor. :( One other thing. After the pain of these "mild" contractions of ealy labor I have decided to screw this "natural" childbirth crap and get drugs. It was taking over a minute after contractions had stopped to get my back to stop spasming and I could only imagine that absolute hell it must be to only have a thirty second respite between 90 second contractions and then be expected to keep your head enough to push during that....so epidural here I come!

Waiting

So I was due to have this baby two days ago now. This is a little disconcerting since I had up to this point convinced myself that not only would I have the baby on time, but it would probably come a week or two early. This dream was slowly shattered as week after week the doctor informed me that I was not dilated or effaced and any contractions I've bothered to keep track of have stopped after an hour or two.
So Thursday (my due date) when I go in they hook me up to a fetal monitor for what was supposed to be 5-7 minutes but due to technical difficulties turned into thirty. This monitored the baby's heartbeat and I was supposed to click a button to indicate everytime the baby moved. By the end of the thirty minutes the baby had moved more than 35 times and I was beginning to literally see sparkles on the edge of my vision (from lying on my back too long??). So the doctor comes in and says that the baby looks healthy and I shouldn't worry. She checks me and after some pressure and probing on her part informs me that she can "get a finger in" this week where she hasn't been able to before...which is good (and not very comfortable I might add).
So now the doctor gives me this spiel about how she really doesn't want to let me go past 41 weeks as the chances of stillbirth greatly increase after that point. After consulting with the internet and other people who've had babies they all say it's 42 weeks, but when I saw the midwife a few weeks ago she indicated that with my rash, it may be a good idea to get induced early (at that point I was only 38 wks), so maybe this is why the doctor said this. Anyway... so up to a few weeks ago I've been totally gung ho about getting an epidural and such. Recently I have changed my mind and decided that I would rather try and have the baby on my own. I heard from various sources that recovery time decreases dramatically without drugs and after figuring that our bodies were designed to do this and it's only in the past century that women have had the option of drugs I thought this sounded good and I could probably handle it. So, now that I've convinced myself that I can do this without drugs, the doctor makes an appointment to induce me.
Next Thursday (19th) night I'm supposed to check in to labor and delivery where they will hook me up to an I.V. with pitocin or some such so that by Friday, when my doctor is on-call, I will hopefully be into active labor. I've heard from numerous sources that being induced hurts much, much more than having the baby on your own and that it really isn't worth it to skip the epidural. I've also heard that sometimes the pitocin doesn't work and you end up having to have a c-section. This really sucks. So if I don't have the baby by Thursday night I'm going to be induced, get an epidural, and probably end up having a c-section which will quadrupal my recovery time and make me a sick invalid unable to do anything for the next three to six weeks. That totally sucks.
I thought maybe I'd go into labor last night when I started to have actual "painful" contractions, but no. As soon as I paid them any attention they stopped...as has been the case up to this point. (Stupid uterus) So I'm hoping that tonight the full moon will work in my favor and I'll have the baby. If not then by next week the situation will become desperate and I may start trying all sorts of crazy things to make myself go into labor before the Thursday night deadline. So I guess we'll all wait and see how this plays out. I'll keep you informed (probably not via this blog) of course. If you have any labor-inducing suggestions that aren't too crazy let me know. :)

It's okay to steal from thieves...

Okay, so my friend Margie readily admitted to stealing this idea from someone else's blog and I'm stealing it from her...so that makes it okay right? ;)

[A is for Age]
24 years, 10 months and 2 days. On my birthday my insurance premium will go up significantly...that's a load of crap if I ever heard one.

[B is for booze of choice]
Well, since I don't drink, I'm not sure how to answer this...let me just say that I really, really like water. :D (see 100 things post for further details)

[C is for career]
Up until December I was able to say student, but now that I've graduated I don't have much to add to this category. I don't suppose lazy is a career? I'm definitely not going to say housewife, so just forget it.

[D is for your dog's name]
I'm very, very allergic to dogs. Even if I wasn't, I wouldn't want one of those big slobbery, noisy messy things in my house. It just doesn't seem sanitary to me to have something like that living with you in the same enclosed space...sorry pet lovers.

[E is for essential items you use everday]
Umm...I'd like to say soap, but I would probably be lying...yes I'm dirty, get over it. Uh...bed, pillow, t.v., water...clothes, watch..toilet paper. ;)

[F is for favorite song(s) at the moment]
I really like the Hallelujah song by Rufus Wainwright on the soundtrack to Shrek...and I'm ashamed to admit that I keep singing the Dirty Vegas song J.D. Fortune wrote on Rock Star: INXS and that is now on the radio as a 'new single from INXS'...

[G is for favorite games]
Hmm...I liked that Scene It game we played on New Years Eve...and that one where everyone writes down the answer to some question and then the person who's 'it' has to guess who said what...I can't remember what it was called though...

[H is for hometown]
Cedar City, UT home of the Cedar Redman...and no we are NOT politically correct, get over it.

[I is for instruments you play]
Piano, clarinet, guitar, recorder....sometimes I claim to play the saxophone, flute and violin, but when I say that I'm lying...what I mean is that once I learned how to play a B-flat scale on each of those and have since counted it as being able to play.

[J is for jam or jelly you like]
Raspberry jam...or strawberry as long as it doesn't have big chunks of berry in it....I had a bad experience with a big chunk of berry that I nearly choked on...so maybe I'll just stick with the raspberry. ;)

[K is for kids?]
Not yet, although I suppose some would count the squirming mound of genetic engineering my husband and I have collaborated on in my stomach as a kid although it's not supposed to come out for another couple of days.

[L is for last kiss?]
Uh...I think my husband kissed me when I visited him at his shop an hour ago...does that count?

[M is for most admired trait]
My most admired trait? or a trait I most admire in someone else? Mine would be...uh...my ability to BS schoolwork and still get A's?

[N is for name of your crush?]
Patrick? Do husbands count as crushes or are they by definition linked to people that aren't real possibilities? I don't know...either way I'll say Patrick. :D

[O is for overnight hospital stays]
When I was hospitalized for asthma in 5th grade I stayed a week....then in 9th grade I stayed for three days for asthma again...I'll probably stay overnight when I have the baby, but that hasn't happened yet.

[P is for phobias]
Evil dead children...seriously...I hate all of the new movies they've come out with lately featuring scary dead kids. *shudders*

[Q is for quotes you like]
"A little nonsense now and then is gaurded by the wisest men" and other ones that are funny that I can't think of right now....

[R is for your biggest regret]
Rushing through school to get a degree without making sure I actually wanted to major in what I did...

[S is for sweets of your choice]
Cheesecake, ice cream, Patrick, apple crisp, smoothies...

[T is for time you wake up]
If I have to go somewhere, then approximately thirty minutes before then, otherwise it's been between 12-1pm lately.

[U is for Underwear]
Big 'ol Mormon underwear ;)

[V is for vegetables you love]
Corn (yum), green beans, broccoli, carrots (raw)

[W is for worst habit]
Uh...none of your business

[X is for x-rays you've had]
One when I broke my foot when I was about three...one when I had a sinus infection and they x-rayed my head....one when I thought I broke my finger in college...and then all of the times I've gone to the dentist and they check for cavities. :)

[Y is for yummy food you make]
I've been told my chicken enchiladas are good...I also make good hamburgers, and I'm pretty good at making pies and cookies...

[Z is for zodiac sign]

Pisces...fish, what can I say? Here's what an internet site I saw said: Imaginative and sensitive

Compassionate and kind

Selfless and unworldly

Intuitive and sympathetic
On the dark side....
Escapist and idealistic

Secretive and vague

Weak-willed and easily led

The end. Wasn't that exciting?

Guests

Well I've had a request to update my blog describing the craziness that has been my house for the past month.
1- So first off...we had a movie party...I cleaned the house for that and it took three hours...no one came into the house at all, but since my babyshower was the next day I didn't consider the time wasted.
2- We had my baby shower. I really enjoyed it having never been to one of these before. The decorations were really nice and the food layout was beautiful (see pic). The punch was really good, the fruit, the dip, the prizes...good times. So only two people (besides Margie and her mom) had arrived on time, but by an hour into it we had almost half of the people that had been invited show up. So it was good...
3- That afternoon/night Patrick had a customer fly in to discuss an armor order and to get measured and all that. He actually turned out not so bad as he was interested in discussing things other than armor with everyone else. Margie and Josh and Dave all stayed late and we went out to eat and then watched Sky High. By the time they left I was incredibly tired and not very hospitable...but hopefully they didn't notice too much.
4- For the next week and a half I spent all of my time on the computer and at school finalizing papers and making presentations in order to graduate.
5- The last day of this phase another of Patrick's friends arrived...I had to clean the guest room once more and tidy up the house again...on top of the stress of school....
6- Three days later the friend left and my parents and brother arrived. This was preceeded by yet another slew of housecleaning.
7- The very next day I graduated....graduation was okay...it was way too long...and obviously biased towards the College of Education with whom we were combined. For example; while we were being hooded, they called out your name and then called the next person before you had even reached the stage...they then threw the hood over your head and ushered you on. For the education people they called the name, waited until they mounted the stage, the hood was arranged just so, hugs were exchanged all around and the person crossed the stage, took their "diploma" (really an empty case) and started down the other side before calling the next name. This combined with the fact that they had over 100 masters students, at least 50 doctorates and close to 250 undergraduates made the last 3/4 of the ceremony very long and boring. On top of this, I forgot my hat and spent the twenty minutes before the ceremony began frantically rushing around trying to find either my family so they could go back and get it, or someone with spare hats. Luckily there was a table with spare hats as I wouldn't have had time for Patrick to rush home since it turned out I was the second person in line for the whole thing. So...yeah, graduation.
8- Back to my family. I love my family, I enjoy spending time with them...however there was a reason I moved out. My mom is fine. She was very nice and willing to cook stuff with me, watch whatever movies I wanted...clean my house, iron my curtains etc... Unfortunately my dad and brother did not feel the same. Thorin really wasn't that bad aside from the fact that he kept swinging my swords around like a crazy person and I was sure he was going to break something....and the fact that even though he is nearly 17 years old, he still can't manage to use the bathroom without splashing all over the seat and the surrounding area. Urine is highly acidic and eats away the porcelain of the toilet, not to mention the sorry state of my hardwood floors. I washed the toilet three times while he was here and I know my mom did the same. He also hogged the computer, but I suppose that was okay. My dad is another story. He came here to metal detect...and apparently that was all he came to do. Even though my parents hadn't done any Christmas shopping yet as I had encouraged them to go here, dad left every morning around 8 am with their vehicle and didn't return until nearly 4 in the afternoon. This meant that I was the one who had to get up and hall my mom around town to shop. I don't generally like shopping that much to begin with...but add to that the fact that mom wasn't sure what she needed to get (as dad usually handles that), walks incredibly slow, follows you around with the cart only inches from your heels, incredibly crowded stores with psychotic shoppers and the fact that I'm nine months pregnant and you get a very unhappy Kiera. After hours of shopping, we would then come home and I (or Patrick) would make dinner. Dad and Thorin would show up for this, but not help set up, not put their dishes away, and generally sit around doing nothing. Keeping in mind the state I was in by this point after shopping all afternoon, this got on my nerves. Mom was very helpful with the dishes, but as soon as they were done Dad would come get out yet another glass and fill it with soda which he was constantly in danger of spilling all over the floor. Thorin would come in and get a new glass every time he got a drink of water. Dad once spilled his cup on my floor and rather then rushing for a towel stood there and looked at it blankly. So I had to rush for the towel and get down on my hands and knees mopping up his mess...me the 9-months pregnant uncomfortable one. Neither he nor Thorin offered to help me move the small sofa either even though, again I'm freaking pregnant and they're perfectly capable. So one night when I was freaking out, Patrick and I snuck off and went to a movie by ourselves...that helped alot. Also....we went down to Dallas one day and walked around way, way too much...I started having painful contractions for about an hour and thought I was going to die. Luckily I didn't.
9- Christmas Eve Dinner. I decided that we should have a turkey dinner for Christmas Eve with my family. So the day before while mom and I were on our daily shopping excursion I bought a turkey. When we got home mom asked if it was frozen, and I said that I didn't think so as it was only in the refrigerated section. So we tentatively plan dinner for 6pm. The next day around noon we discover that the turkey actually is frozen and set about thawing it. Five hundred million hours later (i.e. 7pm) we finally get the turkey in the oven. We don't eat until 11:30 that night. My parents are used to eating at 6pm....I also forgot to get cranberry sauce and several other things as I've never made a real dinner like this before. Usually on Christmas eve we eat, go look at Christmas lights, read the Christmas story, then watch a Christmas movie before going to bed so Santa can come. This year we ate, read the story and then went to bed about 1am....I cried several times as I felt I had ruined Christmas...
10- Christmas. We started opening presents and had only done a couple when my brother called from Slovenia. So we stopped everything to talk to him. This was fine, although it made for some awkward moments as mom cried and dad got all sentimental on the phone (which never happens). So then back to the presents....I felt bad for Patrick since I got him like 11 presents and he only got me like 4, but mine were more expensive than his so it evens out. I was just worried that my parents would be thinking he was mean to me or something as I got passed up again and again to open stuff.
11- We then went to have another Christmas dinner at Patrick's sister's (after church that is). We brought rolls that my mom had made the night before. She felt bad 'cuz they went stale while we were at church, but I don't think anyone noticed. We spent way too long there as my parents were bored and didn't know anyone so mostly sat off by themselves...my dad did get to talk politics with my brother-in-law though, which made him happy as they are both flaming liberals.
12- Tuesday my parents left, mom very kindly cleaned her room and both the bathrooms they had used as well as the kitchen. :) That afternoon Patrick's parents came over. I started freaking out when I got the impression that they were planning to spend the night. I had just finished cleaning the sheets and towels my family had used and didn't like the idea of doing so again....fortunately I misunderstood and they left that night.
13- Wednesday night I got sick. Apparently Patrick's whole family had some sort of crazy flu virus that I caught. So I spent wednesday night throwing up....this is not an easy task when there is a full term baby already screwing with your stomach muscles. Fortunately I did not cause myself to go into labor and am now feeling better. Now wasn't that an exciting story?

100 things....

Okay, so my friend Margie recently posted a list of 100 things about herself...she was copying someone else and I'm copying her....so here we go:
100) I was named after Olivia Newton John’s character in the 1980 movie Xanadu. She was one of the 9 muses of Zeus that came down to help some guy open a roller-rink.
99) I used to love going to the roller rink and even had my 11th birthday party there.
98) My sister, Tearese, is named after a warrior princess while my brothers; Dain, Thain, and Thorin, are all from the Lord of the Rings.
97) My dad used to read to us from the Lord of the Rings as a bed time story.
96) I used to think we were descended from hobbits since my dad had hairy feet and liked mushrooms.
95) When I was in 6th grade, for five minutes I decided to change my name to Star (like from Lost Boys) since no one knew me (I presumed) and I could re-invent myself at this new school…then before the teacher got to me I realized that he would probably tell my parents so I quickly changed it back to Kiera.
94) I always want to re-invent myself.
93) I really like my hair color and texture, but I often convince myself it would look better short, or straight, or black….after changing it I inevitably cry for an hour.
92) I hate carbonation…I always accidentally breathe in the CO2 and choke….then the bubbles burn my throat and I can’t understand how anyone could find that refreshing.
91) I love water. People think I’m copping out when they ask if I’d like something to drink and I request water….but I really do prefer it to other drinks when I’m thirsty or hot.
90) I hate flavored or carbonated water…
89) I think it’s ridiculous that water often costs more then soda….and that vegetables and such cost more then candy or potato chips.
88) I think my sister may have given me an inferiority complex growing up…she was always smarter, more accomplished, and cooler then me.
87) In later years, she would get mad at me because, she thought all of her male friends liked me better than her.
86) Despite all this, my first date wasn’t until I was in college and 18.
85) I dated one boy three times over a ninth month period when I was 19 and this was the closest I had to a boyfriend until I met my future husband.
84) I’m Mormon and went to college in Utah…however for the entire three years, and 11 roommates of my schooling, there were only one or two girls that were members and went to church with me. I thought that was ironic.
83) I gained 30 lbs in college, and have spent hundreds of dollars on infomercial weight loss gimmicks. When I finally lost the weight it was because I went to the gym 3-4 times a week.
82) I used to want to join the circus and be a trapeze artist or ride the elephants….unfortunately, since I’m allergic to animals and hay, this dream was cut short by reality.
81) I used to want to backpack across Europe, but could never figure out the logistics of keeping supplied in medicine while being a nomad…so I gave it up.
80) I love elephants and monkeys…one of my favorite things to do is go to the zoo….I get so excited I’m like a little kid and the other adults look at me weird….at least after I have a baby I can pretend I’m acting that way for her benefit.
79) I sometimes wonder if getting pregnant was a big mistake….and get depressed when I realize it’s too late to do anything about it now.
78) I worry that I’ll be a bad mother and that my daughter will find out all the of the bad things I've done and not respect me
77) I read other peoples journals
76) I feel guilty that my health is such a financial burden on my husband, but still don’t want to get a job.
75) I worry that people think I only talk to them when it’s convenient or I want something…I’ve been called a leach, a “sometimes friend,” and other such names…the sad part is that it’s true.
74) I would put school assignments or work-related responsibilities over friendship most days…I can hold your hand and pat you on the back anytime, but this is due now!
73) I like it when people give me stuff, but hate it when I’m expected to give stuff to others.
72) I’m never quite sure how to interact with other people and consequently come off cold and uncaring
71) When I was in elementary school, the other kids would make fun of me for my parents dropping me off in our old VW van…they called it the Segler bus.
70) They also made fun of me because my mom worked and dad didn’t….they seemed to know when he got lost his job only a few days after we did….seeing as how we’re anti-social, I still don’t understand this.
69) My sister used to call me a fashion victim because I wanted to dress like the people on t.v.
68) I really like sharp cheddar cheese
67) Halloween used to be my favorite holiday ‘cuz you could dress up…now it’s Christmas.
66) When I was younger my favorite color was pink, my sister’s was blue. Ironically her birthstone was rose quartz and mine was aquamarine.
65) Older men have always seemed to like me and it makes me uncomfortable as I suspect they were all secretly perverts….
64) When I was in sixth grade, my best friend Eden told me I had big hips….I thought she was complimenting me on my womanly curves and said thank you. She looked at me like I was crazy and said it wasn’t a compliment. Ever since then I’ve been self-conscious about that portion of my body.
63) I’ve always been bigger than other girls…by myself I looked okay, but next to the stick thin pre-adolescent-looking girls at my high school I looked fat. Consequently I’ve never thought of myself as something to be desired…so it was a shock when I got to college and guys seemed to want me for my body (whole different story I’m not going into).
62) After two years of marriage, with a husband that constantly tells me how sexy I am, I am just now getting over this.
61) I still have no idea how I managed to score such a drop dead gorgeous, generous, kind, tough, scary, totally ripped stud for a husband. I worry that someday he’ll realize this as well and think twice about choosing me.
60) I think I’m only getting my master’s degree so people will think I’m smart.
59) I’ve lived in Texas for three years and three months and think I’ve developed a slight accent….the term “y’all” has become a permanent fixture in my vocabulary.
58) I love scented candles
57) I’ve spent an average of $30/month at amazon.com for the last three years.
56) I have over $8000 in debt on my credit cards alone.
55) I love having my picture taken…but can’t seem to communicate this to photographers….they always assume it’s a big hassle for me to get my picture taken and thus use a minimum of fuss and time…I’d rather be the center of attention for hours on end.
54) I sometimes wish I wasn’t Mormon and knew nothing about the church so I could experience everything in life and not be held responsible since I wouldn’t know any better.
53) I worry my kids will feel the same way and wonder if I can keep them on track
52) My worst fear is that my husband will die and I’ll have to raise our kids alone.
51) I also fear I’ll have an asthma attack during labor and slip into a coma and die.
50) I hate being just like everyone else and feel like being pregnant has caused me to slip into the crowd at church, but hate how it makes people stare at school.
49) My favorite color is green
48) When I was in first grade, my friend Cassidy had a boyfriend….she was a habitual liar and would tell me that she’d hook me up with this boy or that….I always fell for it and would dress up nice for school the day her “friend” was supposed to show up.
47) I’ve always fantasized about coming to school/work/wherever in the morning dressed how I always do and then changing at lunch/break and being so transformed into a beautiful princess that people wouldn’t recognize me….I call it the Cinderella complex.
46) In second grade, my friend Katie Slazinksi would get chased around the playground by 5-6 boys every recess. When they caught her they’d kiss her….I always wished it was me they were chasing.
45) I turn bright red when I’m embarrassed…which happens far too often.
44) I pick my scabs…I know it’s disgusting and I disgust myself by doing it, but can’t seem to stop.
43) My husband loves me anyway
42) I have a poor sense of balance and often stumble or almost fall for no reason…because of this I can’t wear heels without severely injuring myself.
41) When I was little, my sister, her friend and I would shoplift penny candies from the drug store by stuffing them down our underwear and running out. It didn’t occur to me until later how unsanitary that was.
40) In third grade my friend Brandy and I shoplifted friendship bracelets, candy, and small toys without getting caught…we’d also cuss like sailors, steal from the salad bar at Pizzahut and purposely clog their toilets with paper towels so that they’d overflow…
39) I sometimes wish I were still single so that I wouldn’t be onto the married with children phase of my life already.
38) I taught myself to play the piano when I was 11
37) I dream of becoming a rock star, but don’t think it would be a good environment to raise my kids in…I also can’t write music
36) When I was in first grade I got some hot pink, mid-calf boots with black faux fur trim…I thought they were the coolest thing ever. My sister made fun of me
35) When I was in 6th grade I ripped the neck and sleeves out of an oversized shirt, trimmed it to show my belly and wore it hanging over one shoulder with a tank top underneath for gym class. I thought it was really cool…after the first day everyone looked at me weird and my friends asked me why I was wearing it. I never wore it again.
34) When I was in 2nd grade, I had a short, pink peasant blouse looking shirt with an elastic neck line and sleeves. I used to pull the sleeves down so my shoulders would show and hike it up like a halter top to look sexy. It made my mom mad and she stopped letting me wear it.
33) I’ve worn a bigger bra size than my older sister since I was 12
32) I want to dye my hair blue, but worry that I would ruin it with the bleach required to make the color stay
31) When I was younger I read a lot of fantasy books. My friend Gwen told me they were satanic.
30) This same friend asked me if I was a lesbian in 7th grade….
29) I hate gold jewelry…I think it looks tacky
28) Whenever I wear makeup, I feel like a little girl that snuck into her moms make up case and worry everyone is secretly laughing at me
27) I’ve been hospitalized three times for my asthma…twice I was in ICU for several days…because of this I’m virtually uninsurable.
26) I was the first of the cousins on my moms side to get married, but will be the third to have a baby
25) I want to live in Oregon someday…maybe in Astoria, the town where Goonies and Kindergarten cop were filmed….I’ve yet to convince my husband that there is any good reason to move west.
24) I’ve always wanted to live in a different country, but worry about my medicine and getting a job and interacting with strange people, so probably never will.
23) My first real concert was last month when I went to see U2…it wasn’t as great as I’d hoped and I worry that I’ve waited too long for famous people in concert to make a real impression on me.
22) I grew up in “the Festival City” where every summer the Shakespearean festival would put on plays. I always wanted to wear a costume and be in them. I love plays and Shakespeare and pity people who never have these kind of experiences growing up.
21) I like cheesecake…I used to hate it, but now it’s one of my favorite desserts.
20) I used to hate pizza. The only pizza I enjoyed growing up was my mom’s homemade hamburger pizza with pineapple. In college I discovered the “starving student special” where you’d get a small pizza, six homemade’ish breadsticks, and two sodas for only $7.20. I’ve liked pizza ever since.
19) I love crunching leaves and breaking the film of ice that forms over ditches in the winter.
18) I miss winter
17) I’ve always wanted to be one of those cool tough chicks that works on cars or something and isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty…
16) I hate getting my hands wet… my skin dries out and I need lotion and it isn’t always available, so it’s just easier to skip that whole process.
15) I’m a firm believer in the five second rule…unless someone is watching
14) I drink out of the milk jug and always have
13) I frequently get home sick, but when I go home to visit I’m ready to leave after a couple of hours.
12) I can’t stand to wear fingernail polish…I always think it looks funny on me
11) I hate my freckles…sometimes babies and little kids stare at my skin like they can’t figure out what’s wrong with it….they’ll look and look, and sometimes reach out to touch it as if to check if there’s something on it.
10) I tend to romanticize things… for example: I really love nature, and mountains and the great outdoors and such, but when we go up the mountain I’m bored after ten minutes.
9) I like both country music and rock…and jazz, and blues, and classical, and celtic…many people can’t understand that.
8) I knew Patrick was something special when he could
7) I took out student loans during my undergraduate years to pay off my credit cards…now I have those loans and my credit cards to pay off
6) My mom always says how poor she is, but she makes more then I do and pays less in rent, car insurance, insurance, medical bills, and stuff then me….I wonder where her money goes.
5) When I was nine my parents separated for several months because of money issues…I sometimes think my mom would be better off if they’d never got back together
4) Mom says you’ll put up with a lot more crap if you love him…I didn’t believe her until I got married
3) I dislike church activities and “molly mormons” but feel guilty because of it
2) I sometimes think home-schooling, no cable, no movies, no internet, no video games and lots of hard physical labor are the best way to go with kids….but can’t see myself living without my entertainment or teaching my kids alone.
1) None of my friends or family would enjoy the type of books I read

Annoyance....being a jerk again

Okay, this is a kind of random post, but Margie has been bugging me to update for the past month or so... Patrick's sister Christine is getting married in two weeks. We are driving up to Salt Lake, via Cedar City so that we can stop off and visit my parents. We haven't been to their house since we were married over two years ago. In contrast we have seen Patricks parents/siblings (not counting the ones that live in Texas) a total of 8 times during that period. SO....I im'd Christine last week to ask, in passing, what her colors were so that I could dress appropriately. I didn't think it would be that big of a deal and that she probably wouldn't care if we matched the decor, but I thought I'd ask just in case. It turns out her fiance's family is really big on everyone matching for the wedding. So she is having bridesmaids, groomsmen, mother outfits, etc...all of the men need to wear dark suits and dark (?) blue shirts and she will provide matching orange ties...all of the girls need to wear medium to dark blue dresses. (Now she's known this for weeks and is just now telling me since I happened to ask in passing...apparently everyone else knew and didn't bother to tell us) I am 7.5 months pregnant....my pregnant wardrobe is very limited...even if it weren't...I don't own anything dressy in navy blue, but less dressy, navy blue, and fit for an 8 month pregnant person. So I was upset that I now had to go out and buy a big pregnant dress so I could match her stupid decor for a picture....a picture in which I'd be big, fat, and pregnant anyway and which I didn't think I'd look that good in were I able to choose my own clothes. So I go out and buy a pregnant blue dress/skirt thing...it's not very dressy...it's made of stretchy cotton, but I'm not spending money on a satin, fancy thing I'll only be able to wear another two months.
So the plan is that we're driving to my parents, spending the night...driving 5 hours up to Salt Lake to make it for a 12:30 wedding and then driving back down to Cedar that night to spend at my parents. Then I hear that Merry (Patrick's mom) wants everyone there by 11:15 for a big family photo. Not only that, but she wants it to be a "Fancy photo that will appeal to a rich clientele..." so I'm beginning to think my stretchy cotton number isn't going to cut it next to the satin bridesmaid dresses....then she asks if Patrick would shave and cut his hair so that he would look nice for her picture. I'm thinking....this is what he looks like... why do you want a fake picture....then it hits me that we will have to leave by 5am that morning to get up there to pose for a stupid picture. I really don't think we'll be looking our best after only a few hours sleep following a twenty hour drive plus five to SLC...on top of that I'm thinking....everyone is going to be here in Texas for Christmas...why can't we do it then and save everyone the hassle (momentarily ignoring the fact that I will then be NINE months pregnant in this family photo). So then Patrick calls his mom to see what's going on, because it also occurred to me that maybe we weren't supposed to wear our wedding attire for this fancy family shot....he explains the 5 hour drive thing and she again (has happened before) suggests that we just drive up to SLC friday and get a hotel room. Ignoring the fact that this would then be a 25 hour drive, she completely disregards that I want to spend time with MY family(not to mention that we're dirt poor)....we've seen them 8 times since we got married and only visited my parents once. So Patrick explains this once more that we really want to visit my family and that it's really important to me. So then I find out that I'm not even going to be in the picture! It's just siblings...spouses and children will be in the not so formal, Patrick doesn't have to shave and can look like a slob pic at Christmas....the reason is that Merry doesn't want to pay for two photographers and is already shelling out for Christine's wedding person. So now I'm offended first of all that they would just assume that we could drive up to SLC at 5am (never asked just said be there) when we've told them repeatedly about visiting my family....and then I'm mad 'cuz they don't even want me in the picture. I mean I understand that I'm not "really" family, but still, my mom would want spouses in a family shot, so why doesn't she? Then I'm mad that we have to get up, drive all that way, I had to buy a dress with money we don't have, just to sit around and not even get my picture taken. So I guess I'm not really "mad" more annoyed in general...it could be the hormones. *shrug* Oh and this is coming right after a mass email trying to coordinate Christmas eve/day activities with everyone (Patricks entire family, my family and patrick's sister's husband's family)....I've spent the last two Christmas, Thanksgiving, three Independence days, memorial days, and Easters with these people and I want to hang out with "MY" family now...so I told them as much and I think I may have hurt some feelings...oh well.

Prophetic Dreams...

Patrick thinks I might be having prophetic dreams 'cuz I'm pregnant. I reminded him that it's usually virgins who have those kind of dreams and my growing belly is a testament to the fact that I don't fit into that category anymore. ;) Anyway, I dreamed the other day that INXS picked J.D. for their new lead singer on Rock Star: INXS and they did. Then last night I had a disturbing dream that hopefully won't come true. I dreamed that Margie got married. (That's not the disturbing part) In my dream she was only 30, yes I know you're 31 now, it was a dream. Anyway, I don't think I ever got to see who she married, but she was very happy to finally have met her match. Two weeks later she died. It was really sudden and really, really sad. She was put in this mausoleum/crypt thing with lots of white marble and candles. Everyone was very distraught. I found Josh crying on the side of the road and had to take him to grief counseling. On the way we passed all these people who looked at us weird 'cuz Josh was still crying. After I got him settled I was in the waiting area and someone from school/church (?) asked me where my friend Margie was. I told her that she died. She had a very stricken look on her face and when I told her it was only two weeks after she got married, she was very upset too. She said something like; "well, at least she was able to reach her goal in life (getting married) before she went....it's a good thing her and (insert name here) rushed the wedding date after all." I guess there was controversy about getting married so quick, but it turned out good 'cuz they at least got to spend two weeks together as a married couple. Anyway about then I realized that Margie had left me in charge of making sure she was properly entombed. I thought that maybe she wouldn't like the mausoleum and plain coffin and set about making the arrangements to change it all. In my dream the place was supposed to be all modern-art'y and I don't like that so I was going to change it...then Margie's spirit visited me in a dream (yes a dream within a dream) to let me know that she was okay and everyone should stop being sad and that she actually really liked the set up for her mausoleum and I shouldn't change it. That's the end. Crazy huh? So I hope that dream doesn't come true, cuz it was depressing.

Practicum Update

For those of you who may be interested, I've decided to update you on the status of my practicum...and to warn you of the dangers of working with a partner. So we were going along just fine two weeks ago, we had our schedule worked out to have the results written up and analyzed for our client by Monday. This was exciting as it wasn't actually due until Sept. 7th (next wednesday) and my partner kept going off about how they were going to be "blown away" by the work we've done. I nodded complacently and repeated the schedule to her several times. We went our separate ways and met with our advisor last week. One of the things that was holding us up was that the only computers with the software we needed were closed until school started, which to us was way too far away to do any good. Luckily, or so we thought, our advisor had a solution in the form of two copies of the software we could use to download onto our home computers. We parted in high spirits still thinking we could complete the paper on Monday. At this point I was beginning to have some trepidations as my partner had used the wrong format for both our interviews and observations/field notes. We had agreed on what and how to write down our stuff before we began collecting data and she not only didn't do it this way, but didn't observe the right stuff at all. For example: we were supposed to watch and note the movements of visitor groups around the exhibit. Meaning; "asian family approaches, mom, boy -10, girl 6, goes up to table. Girl pickes up ball, etc..." instead my partner made random notes into her digital recorder which she wore around her neck. Stuff like; "people seem to really like the table" or "I wonder if it would be better if we moved such and such..." This is fine for overall themes, but doesn't do us any good if we are trying to report on visitor behavior, with hard numbers (18/42 people did this) to back us up. So when we left our meeting my partner was to go home and convert all of her data so we would have comparable notes to go off of that could be easily inputted into the software (atlas). She went home and converted her interviews (really we had all the same info already, only she had noted what jobs people had, so this wasn't that big of a deal to put that into my already formatted stuff) with no problem. She delivered them to me the next day so I could upload them and returned to convert the other observations.
A word on the observations. I had only observed a few groups as while I was over with her we spent most of our time interviewing people. However all morning I was over at the other exhibit we were evaluating (or should I say "I" was evaluating) thinking that she was over there obser ving people and that my notes would be suppliments to the majority of the stuff she was doing. Okay, so now you have an idea of my expectations of her data.
So I upload the interviews to find that the program our advisor gave us doesn't work. I email my partner and a day later hear back that her disk doesn't work either, but that she's going to try a few things. She constantly refers to herself as a "computer geek" so I'm thinking maybe she can fix it, maybe not, but either way i have to get mine done. So I go up to the school on Saturday and again on Monday night (the monday we thought we'd be done mind you) to upload my data and get some preliminary analysis done. Tuesday I have class all day and am presented with 170 pages of homework to read, 80+ of which needed to be done by Thursday. This is stressful, but I figure I could read it that day, meet with my partner Wednesday (now 1 week before due) and write the paper no problem.
Wednesday we meet. I'm a little late as I've fallen asleep on the couch trying to read my extremely boring homework. We get on the computer to look at partner's data. (I haven't seen it yet though I emailed her my results two days ago, I kept pestering her to email me hers, but she insisted that she was "doing it by hand" since atlas didn't work and it was taking longer than she thought). Okay so we sit down and I look at the screen. Before me is a table that she has created in access (which the only thing I know about is that you use it to mail merge addresses on form letters). The table has over 250 rows full of information with boxes to the right where you can put a check mark to indicate something or other. This document is at least ten, or fifteen pages long and utterly unintelligible to me. (My results were in two pages in a word doc sayign stuff like: # of Females - 23, # of Males - 18...you know; results? not formless data?) As I stare blankly at the screen wondering how in the world she could have misunderstood our instructions so completely, she goes on to say that she's eliminated the race category as well as ages of people and Paul's table. (Paul is our client who presented us with a table to use during our observation where we code visitor behavior. Like; interacts with exhibit, ignores label = E1. This is the main thing he wanted us to note and my partner has completely eliminated not only the notes I made on MY observations, but the entire category). So I'm staring in shock and she's explaining that she knows this will be useful, but she can't remember how exactly to analyze the stuff now that she's created it. She also tells me that she is going out of town Thursday and won't be back until late Sunday night. Our paper is due next Wednesday. Tuesday I have class until 4 in the afternoon, and I know for a fact that she always takes a "recovery" day when she returns from these trips, which leaves Monday out. So really it seems we have to write the entire paper that afternoon.
I sigh and say we should get started. First we make some graphs. This relatively simple task is stretched out to an hour (for maybe 3 graphs - we need much more than just three) since partner is at the computer, fumbling and using some wierd program that she insists makes graphs better than word or powerpoint which I suggested. The graphs are butt ugly and I know I'm going to have to go back and fix them once she's gone. I say we should ignore the graphs and concentrate on the text. I suggest we split up and I write on my interview results and she write on her observation "results" since I can't read the table she made. She agrees and we go to work. Forty five minutes later she comes over to me and says that she is "dangerously tired" and needs to go. After some very irritating problems with the computer we manage to copy/paste what we've done (I've integrated the graphs, with text explaining them, which took up three pages...she's written three paragraphs). She says that she will type her stuff on the plane tomorrow and email it to me by Friday. I say fine and that I will try and edit it all together and email it back for her perusal. She thinks this is good.
When I get home I look at her stuff. We are supposed to report on whether visitor experience is better with the presence of facilitators or not. My partner had been preoccupied with how facilitators interact with each other, where they come up with lesson plans, their unique "social capital" to the museum and a bunch of other crap that's interesting, but not really the point of the project. So I look at her stuff. Under the title of Observation Notes she was to write under she has put another title; "Facilitators" where she proceeded to write about all the crap I just mentioned. You know the "mildly interesting, if you want to write an academic paper, but of no use to the client who employs the facilitators and should know perfectly well where they get their training."
So I get to work, ignoring this and concentrating on my section. I finish this Thursday and realize that my partner is not to be trusted with the observations. After some internal struggling over the wisdom in trusting her to do it right when she has yet to do so I decide that she will inevitably write the wrong stuff, leave out everything that's important and not get it to me until Monday when there's not much I can do about it. So I trudge up to the school yet again, and upload all of my observations into the program we were supposed to be using all along. I code the data, with Paul's behavior codes, and analyze it. I'm at the school for three hours and don't get home until after nine). Today I am writing up all of the info like I did for the interviews yesterday.
If I get a chance tomorrow I can analyze the data for the other exhibit and hand it all in together...otherwise that will be sometime next week (this isn't due until october, so it's okay)
What this means: I did the interviews (both asked the questions and transcribed the notes correctly), I'm doing the observations, I'm doing the Gyro chair exhibit alone (which was planned), I'm writing the paper, I'm doing the graphs. My partner: found the site, provided the video camera; which btw ate half of the interviews.
So now I'm wondering if I should say something to our advisor. My partner is expecting to graduate from this project, just like me. But it seems that I've done most of the work. Patrick thinks I should tell on her and she shouldn't get credit for my work. I don't want to ruin her chances of graduation, but I do think it's true that she has yet to grasp what it is we are supposed to be doing as anthropologists. She has questioned and then ignored all of the methods of field work and analysis that anthropologists use. Shouldn't she have "mastered" these in order to graduate with a masters degree in anthropology? So I have tons of crap to do. It sucks. Let this be a warning for all of you who think working with a partner on something as important as your masters capstone project is a good idea. It's not. Don't do it. Run the other way!

It's a....

girl! http://www.thadenarmory.com/kiera/babythaden So, now I have to think of girl names....which totally sucks as I have like three sets of boy names I like, but no girl names. Man, now I have to teach it how to be a girl...and not let it wear the slutty clothes that are all popular, and not let it date until 16 and worry about boys treating her wrong, and give her the "girl talk" and everything. Girls are alot more work then boys I think. So, if any of you have ideas for names, let me know. :)

School

So, due to circumstances beyond my control (read: had to work with a slacker partner) my practicum which I was supposed to be doing all summer has been pushed back to the last two and a half weeks of August. Through some whining on our part, we finally managed to convince our advisor to let us go ahead with the project without gaining approval from the rest of our commitee (who decided to take this season to go on vacation) and started fieldwork last Thursday. We then proceeded to cram three leisurely months worth of work into five eight-nine hour days of observation, surveys and interviews. We have now immerged with circles under our eyes and a nervous twitch, but with viable data clutched in our greedy fists. So now we need to cram two months worth of analysis and write up into two weeks. The computer lab at the school with the analytical programs we need has decided to shut down for a week and won't open again until Monday. My partner who possesses the majority of the pertinent data (the interviews) on her video recorder has decided to become incommunicado....which she has been doing all summer...which is why we're in this situation in the first place. Classes start in a week and I really don't want to try to juggle the inevitable 200+pages/week of reading I have to look forward to with analysis and presentation. So, if my partner would get her act together and be willing to put in another week of eight-nine hour days we could be done...or if she'd just give me the stupid tapes I'd freaking do it myself. The report is due to our client by Sept. 7th at the latest, but preferably by Aug. 29th...so in a week and three days. *grrrr* I hate working with other people.

On the baby front, we've schedule our sonogram for next week so if everyone cooperates *glares at belly* we'll know what we're having...boy, girl, monkey or otherwise. I also just found out yet another of Patricks sisters is pregnant. After the initial "yay!" I went immediately to "oh man! Now she's not going to want to give us her baby stuff!!" :( I want to be the only one pregnant in the whole family and get all of the attention. Selfish? Maybe, but it's my first and I want everyone to be excited. Breaking the news to Patricks family didnt' get the response I was hoping, (they all said something like: "yeah we thought you might be") so the least they could do is hold off on their breeding tendencies until I have my baby.>:(
I finally caved in and bought two pair of maternity pants and two shirts yesterday. They're still a little too big, but way more comfortable than what I was wearing...I just don't want to look like a fat slob when I go back to school and have to start interacting with people again. My doctor is putting me on oral steroids to treat my rash. She says she doesn't think it will get rid of it completely, but will hopefully "get it under control." I don't know what she means by that, but I guess we'll see. The last time the doctor put me on steroids I was in fifth grade and just got out of the hospital where I'd been with asthma troubles for a week. The doctor gave me steroids and I gained like fifteen pound in a very, very short period of time. My mother said my face swelled up and it was kind of scary how fast I put on weight....all I remember is eating an entire chocolate cream pie by myself at Thanksgiving....the weight must have gone off again when I got off the drugs as I looked fine in sixth grade. But so now I worry that I'm going to balloon up like an elephant and everyone is going to think it's because I'm pregnant. They're going to think I'm one of those pregnant girls that don't just get a belly, but get fat...everywhere. You know, like Brad John's wife at church. I don't want to look like that. *sigh* So I asked the doctor about that and she said it is a possible side effect, but that it doesn't happen very often. However, if it does, I am to continue my dosage regardless. >:P I just know my baby is going to come out with four arms and a third eye or something from all the drugs I'm taking.

Update

So apparently I need to update my blog more often as my public needs me....(yeah right). So we just got back from Chicago, which sucked. First of all the guy whose house we stayed at didn't actually live in Chicago...he lived in a suburb about an hour away that didn't even have a Walmart, or a movie theater that I could tell. I then proceeded to spend 3 1/2 days alone in this guys house with nothing but his 400+ channel cable (which was nice) and his stupid cats for company. I'm allergic to cats. The guy's house had two levels. Upstairs were bedrooms, kitchen etc...and this was all hardwood floors. Hardwood floors and leather furniture do not attract and retain hair and dander like carpet and upholstered furniture do. Our room and the television were downstairs with wall to wall carpeting. There were tufts of cat hair floating along the hallway and as I slid off of our bed a ball of cat fur would inevitably follow me to the floor. Our room was also right next to the laundry room/cat haven. Where the litter box and cat food were. The entire lower level of the house smelled of cats and seemed to get stronger the further down the hall you went, culminating in a cloud of gag-inducing cattiness emanating from the cat haven...which was, again right next to our room.
So my husband would get up at 7 am and leave with his friend to go hammer all day at their other friends house/forge. I couldn't go to his house at all because he had two dogs, which I am deathly allergic to. So he would leave, I would sleep in until noon or 1pm then spend the day sneezing and watching endless movies on the t.v. set in my room. That is when I wasn't foraging through our hosts non-existent pantry for some form of substinence to feed myself and my growing baby. I'm pregnant. I need food every couple of hours or I get sick. These people work all day, their children eat at daycare, and then they order food when they get home. There was no milk (hey we at least buy some for our guests), not enough cereal in any of the boxes to fill a cupped palm, much less a cereal bowl, and only a few cans of yucky soup. I ate the soup. Also, being pregnant and on a weird sleeping cycle as its summer, I generally get a little peckish around 1-2pm, again at 5-6, then at 8-9, 11-12, and 1-2. I could eat in the afternoon, then again at dinner, but I didn't want to be found pawying through our hosts meager supplies while they were in their beds for the night (they went to bed around 10pm...waaaaay too early for my tastes). So instead I sat in our room starving, sneezing, and living on benedryl, none of which could be good for the baby.
Dinner: Wednesday night they wanted Chinese. The last time I had Chinese while I was pregnant it made me sick. I mentioned this, so our host agreed to get me a hamburger. Thursday: we had thin-crust pizza, with hardly any substance to it. Friday: we had a bbq with, you guessed it; hamburgers. Saturday; Brian and Patrick were running behind so stopped by a...wait for it...hamburger joint to pick up some food for dinner. By the time we left Sunday I was so sick of this "beefy goodness" that I don't think I'll ever be able to eat a fast food hamburger again. (I'm sure I'll get over it, but I still currently feel that way).
Sunday was "my day" to go into Chicago and see what there was to see. Our host first asked if we would like to stop at a McDonalds for breakfast. Starving pregger that I am, I agreed even though the thought of their usual fare made me quesy. He then proceeded to drive past not one, not two, but four, maybe even five (I fell asleep) of these establishments. When I pointed this out to him he exclaimed; "Oh! I didn't even see them! I was too busy talking my mouth off about stupid crap that no one cares about and breaking traffic laws to notice! And...oh no! There aren't any more until we get into the city. Oh well." At this point I was ready to kick that stupid smile off his stupid pudgy face and grind him into the ground with my heel. But instead I smiled and reassured him that all was well. Upon arriving in the big city the man repeatedly asked me what I wanted to do, was it okay if they took a taxi, where do I want to go....having never been to Chicago I had only a vague idea of what attractions it held and expected him to list a few options. Nope. So after a stomach -turning lunch of turkey on a soft pretzel bread (which has always made me sick, but for some reaon I over looked when ordering), we went to the Art Institute of Chicago where I looked at art that I would have liked to share with my husband and he and his ''friend" gazed adoringly at the rows of armour on display for hours on end. We didn't get to the museum until noon and it closed at five. We finally left around 2:30 and headed to the Field Museum....in a taxi. (which I have no problem with, but our host made a big deal about) After a mere thirty minutes of viewing various stuffed dead things to which I am allergic I was about to collapse from fatigue and hunger and begged a break in the museum's bakery. There I ordered the most delicious tomato basil soup, grilled cheese sandwhich and a carton of milk and sat back and enjoyed the first real meal I'd had since leaving. By the time we were done we had less than twenty minutes to see the rest of the vast four level complex. We didn't see very much. Our host then dropped us at the airport an hour and a half early and I limped around to our terminal (recall that my back has been hurting, that it gets worse with walking and that we had been walking all day) and collapsed on the uncomfortable seats. Good things though: I got a yummy smoothie in the airport and we got to read Harry Potter on the plane there and back. So now I am still recovering from too much cat exposure and malnutrition. The end.

Okay one more thing: These people have two daughters, ages 3 and four months. They both work all day and the girls are in daycare from 7am to 6pm. The daycare feeds them and changes their diapers and oversees the potty training the parents are trying to teach. The kids are woken up at 5:30 am, picked up at 6pm, fed and put to bed by 8pm. These people see their children for a total of three hours a day. How can they expect to have any impact on their lives if the kids see more daycare people than relatives?! This upset me so much that, again hormones/pregnant, it made me cry. The guy kept saying how he loved being a dad and it was so great. I think that's a load of crap and what little interaction he has with his children shouldn't qualify for that title. Okay, now I'm done.

The Best things in life are free....

...or so the song goes. I think that's a load of crap. For example: a home. I think having a home, a place to keep your things, to sleep and get away from the world is pretty important...however if you want to keep this sort of luxury you need money to pay for it. Our house, even though we have maybe the sweetest deal in Denton, is still too expensive for us. We never got enough money to pay rent last month and still don't have it to pay for this month. Lucky for us the landlord is a little absent-minded and probably won't kick us out right away.
Food: Food, in my opinion, is one of the best things in life. I love nothing more than a really well-prepared meal. However, once again, unless you happen to own a large amount of land which you farm regularly, this cost money. (of course the farm would probably cost money as well in terms of taxes, overhead, current market value, labor, seed, etc... so I guess that's not a good example). We've been digging into our very meager food storage for the last month as well. Now we have Patrick's new "apprentice" living with us and eating his weight in food. For instance: we bought two gallons of milk on Monday when Patrick went to pick him up. We still had a little bit left from the previous gallons too....now we are out of milk again a mere five days later. This guy drinks it with every meal, even though I think it's pretty obvious that the rest of us are trying to conserve our resources by drinking water. When I was growing up, milk was a luxury not to be wasted with drinking. We could have milk with our cereal in the morning and that was it. It was too expensive to let a family of seven each have a glass at dinner (although I seem to remember mom getting some), and if we were caught sneaking a glass during the day we were punished. (Well until half of us moved out and my littlest brother decided it was a good idea to start drinking nearly liter size glasses of milk in the middle of the day and then leave the still half-full glass lying around going to waste...and he never got in trouble either! Spoiled brat). Anyway, so I guess what I'm trying to say is that we're dirt poor and the situation doesn't seem to be improving with time. We still owe $800+ worth of bills from last month and can't even begin to think about paying this months. Unfortunately we have to come up with at least $350 for my insurance asap or they'll drop me....and you don't even want me to go into the nightmare that is trying to get insurance with no job, a pre-existing condition, and a baby on the way. I'm trying to get a job, but I still haven't started on my practicum yet (which is a whole other story) so I don't know what my schedule will be for the next month or so. This makes it a little difficult to get a job when you aren't sure when you'll be able to work. *sigh* So, money sucks. The best things in life may be free, but you can leave them to the birds and bees....I WANT MONEY!!!

Secrets...

Me, I'm a big fan of secrets...as long as I'm the one that knows about them. If one of my friends or acquaintances did something they shouldn't have or are embarassed about, I think it's great if they tell me about it. I think I'm a good secret keeper in most cases because: 1) I don't really talk to that many people and the ones that I do interact with, I don't tell stuff about myself, much less my friends. 2) Most of the time the people that tell me the secret tell everyone else within a few days and there's not much pressure on me. 3) If I do need to tell someone I can tell my sister. She lives over 2000 miles away in Seattle, WA. Who here is going to care if she knows? There are also a few reasons why I'm a bad person to tell a secret to...1) I generally do end up telling someone. Whether it's my sister (see above) or my husband (I firmly believe spouses shouldnt/don't count). 2) If the secret is just too exciting and you catch me minutes after I've been confided in I may start dropping clues and hope that you guess for yourself. For example: I have a secret. One I don't really want to spread too much just yet. However, even having told my family and my husband I still feel the need to tell a few more of my close friends. The problem with telling people secrets though is that you're never quite sure who they are going to tell (I firmly believe that everyone has their own list of exception people). So I could tell my friends that the reason I haven't been feeling too well for the past month or so is because a certain someone told me she wanted to be an aunty in the near future and I couldn't let her down...and if she wanted to know when this change in her stature from friend to aunty were to take place I'd have to say sometime around January 13th. But then you never can tell who they'll tell. So I guess I'll just keep my secrets to myself and trust those of you clever enough to have seen through this ruse to keep it to yourself as well. Because as we all know, a secret isn't any good if it's public knowledge...so: shhhh!

Summertime Blues

Remember when you were a kid and you were so excited for school to be out? You'd think it was so great that you didn't have to do anything and you could sleep in and play all day without any consequences...then, in my case at least, by the end of the summer you're so freaking bored you can't wait to go back to school so that your life will at least have some sort of purpose again. Well, it seems you don't really grow out of this. I was so excited for school to be done so I could have some time to sit back and relax before starting my summer classes. I had ordered four new books to read and was really excited to have nothing to do. Well, May rolled around and my books came (and they were totally worth it, but over much too quickly), but I started feeling sick and spent alot of my time lying on the couch reading or watching t.v.. Now I've actually started my summer readings for school and I'm working out the last details to begin my practicum and I just have to wonder why I'm doing any of it. I mean, I know I'm trying to graduate and I don't plan to do this forever, but I just need to push through these last few courses so I'll be done, but I really don't care about any of it. The prospect of reading a bunch of anthropology crap and writing some papers is not enough to motivate me to get out of bed before noon. Then even when I do get up, I still spend the day on the couch reading this stuff with intermittent breaks for snacks and paper writing. This is totally making me feel like crap, but I'm not motivated to go out and do anything else. I feel like I'm turning into a fat slob, though this is the lowest weight I've maintained consistently in awhile. I'm working with a partner on my practicum and I feel like she's the one doing all the work. She's all ambitious and wants to do a good job and I just want to take the easiest way out. So when she changes stuff and wants to know what I think, I just nod my head and say 'whatever.' I guess I just feel so disconnected with everything right now...maybe it's from sleeping too much, maybe it's from not exercising enough, or maybe it's from spending all of my time studying this stupid stuff I'm not interested in. I think it may also be from not having a job and thus feeling very out of touch with my financial situation...I wonder if I could handle a job on top of the school stuff I'm doing...

waiting...

I'm currently sitting here waiting for my visiting teachers to show up. I haven't cleaned my house and I hope they don't notice....I've also realized that our landlord should be sitting on the porch when they arrive and this could freak them/him out. Stupid cats...
Summer is very boring right now. I don't get to start on my practicum until June and I'm supposed to be getting IRB approval in the mean time, but my stupid partner won't get back to me. So I have nothing to do but sleep in until noon and sit around reading all of my new books...this would be okay except that I'm almost done with them and then what will I do? *sigh* Maybe I should get a job...but I don't know what my schedule at the museum will be like, so I can't yet. Oh well. Sorry, this isn't very interesting.... On the bright side I got straight A's again...so I still have a 4.0 GPA for grad school...maybe they'll let me wear special tassels or something...that'd be cool. :D

So apparently I'm a jerk...

Growing up in Utah I've always been the quiet, nice one. Everyone always mentioned how I didn't say much, but that I was a nice person. At my jobs I was often commended on being so efficient and such a good worker. Many times my supervisor would compare me to workers they'd had in the past and say how I "really had it" and that they would like it if I could stay with them forever. One employer liked me so much he said I should drop out of school and work with them full-time (I'm not sure how serious he was). My teachers always complimented my work and told me what a good student I was. Then I moved to Texas.
I now have a former best friend/roommate who will not even talk to me anymore. I have tried on several occassions to mend our troubles, but she has refused point-blank to even consider associating with me ever again. This is a girl that I had been friends with for over a decade and within a matter of months now no longer considers me worth her time.
I got a job as a secretary. My co-workers complained about me not doing a good job, of being lazy. I was written up and given a "trial period" in which to prove myself or I'd lose my job. My fellow secretaries would not give me work to do and when they did would explain it to me as if I was stupid. This seemed to be a common conception around the work place that my intelligence was to be found wanting and my work below par.
Last semester I did a case study on a local museum. This was a critique based upon my experiences of visiting the museum, taking a tour with a school group, interviewing the curator, and attending one of their lecture series. I was less than impressed with the curator who also seemed to think I was an idiot, but as she requested to see my paper before I handed it in (to make sure I didn't "misrepresent" her or her museum), I refrained from saying anything negative and was, according to my professor, entirely too generous in my assessment. I forwarded the paper to the lady as she requested, and received back corrections to my grammar and punctuation. That's it. "It's" instead of "its," "than" instead of "then," that sort of thing. One semester later I am interviewing with a completely different museum for the possibility of conducting my practicum there. The interview is going well when the director brings up an experience her fellow museum manager had with a student last semester. Apparently this student wrote an extremely offensive and one sided paper in which she made "scathing remarks" regarded the establishment and the exhibits. This student, she claims, did not bother to ask for clarification on any subject but rather invented all sorts of cruel lies about the establishment. Robyn (the museum lady) now refused to even consider working with another student again because this was such a traumatizing experience in which her trust was betrayed and now this paper was out "in the public" for all to see. This was my paper. I explained this to the new lady and she agreed to still let me come this summer. I then went home and reviewed my paper and, finding it lacking any offensive material, forwarded a copy to the lady and asked her if this was in fact the paper to which she was refering as I was no longer convinced after re-reading it. She said that it was the paper and that she looked forward to beginning a discussion on my writing style and the manner in which I offend people (as she was amazed that I failed to see what was so 'scathing' about it). She also proceeded to say that she did not appreciate emails and would I please refrain in the future. Shocked and taken aback I did. Until three weeks later when I had some questions about the project. She had emailed me with several concerns about my methods and the prospect of me offending and alienating their small clientele. When I explained that I was there to do what she wanted and that everything would be cleared first and that I wouldn't do anything she didn't approve of, she answered me by saying that a staffing problem had come up and they would be unable to devote to me the amount of time I would need for my project. Good luck, and good riddance...
Apparently I have also offended some of my friends as well as their family, who no longer even speak to me in church. So apparently I'm a jerk....or maybe it's Texas?!?!

AAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!

Sorry I haven't been updating like I should...so much stuff has been going on with school and let me just tell you; drama, drama, drama. I don't have time to go into it right now and may not for the next two weeks, but after the semester is done, it's blog-central baby. ;)

Transcribing sucks

So I finally finished transcribing my second 35 minute interview today during our lunch break. You wouldn't think something so short would take so long. Over the span of two days and three different typing/listening sessions I think the last interview took about four hours. Now it's not that I'm a slow typer, it's just that people talk a lot faster then you'd think...add on to that a thick spanish accent and an echoey room and it starts to become very difficult. So, anyway, it sucked.
Today was my preservation class. It's taught by the School of Library Science, and we are supposed to be learning how to preserve books. The class only meets six times for the whole semester. So far we've learned how to: erase pencil marks, tape tears in the page, color, mat pictures, fold mylar, create cradles for books on display, and mount artwork for display....so when I started this list it didn't seem like we'd learned much, but I guess two meetings from the end of the semester, it seems like more now. However, the first half (read 3.5 hours) of class we colored pictures and ate candy. It seems a little ridiculous to me that I'm receiving 3 graduate-level credits for attending this "class" but hey, if they want to give me credit for coloring then I say go ahead. We get an hour long lunch break between sessions and I usually spend mine reading/napping in an empty building across the quad. Today however, I had to transcribe the above interview and didn't get a lunch. Luckily I finished it, but unluckily I have yet to start on next week's assignments which consist of 200+ pages of Anthropological drivel. Maybe I'll skim it...
Patrick's grandparents came into town last night and stayed in our guest room. This morning we all got up at 6am (yes, we are insane) and went out to breakfast. This wouldn't have been too bad if I hadn't stayed up until nearly 2am transcribing....I then had class all day and am now exhausted....so maybe I'll take a nap while Patrick's at his Priesthood session.
I'm listening to Billy Idol's new CD. After meeting him in Austin and listening to him live, I figured we should at least have one of his albums. It's pretty good...I especially like the "Rat Race" and "Plastic Jesus" songs. You should definitely check them out.