tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35975301705127882862024-03-18T22:59:49.998-05:00The Other Melissa McCarthyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.comBlogger113125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-63168532604409253212014-10-02T20:19:00.002-05:002014-10-02T20:19:32.977-05:00New BlogThis process of moving from Blogger to WordPress has been a long one! I still have a long way to go, but I'm finally satisfied enough with how it is shaping up to share it!!<div>
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Come visit me on WordPress: <a href="http://www.melissakaymccarthy.com/">Productive Boredom</a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-18123488394647852072014-07-03T09:59:00.001-05:002014-07-03T10:10:01.360-05:00Why I Haven't BloggedI knew there was a bit of a time gap since my last blog post, but I had NO idea it has been almost two months. Time flies when you're watching Netflix and doodling. <br />
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Yes, as shameful as it sounds, that is exactly what I have been doing when I haven't been at work. You may think I'm kidding, but I'm not. I have discovered the wonderful world of Zentangle and I'm afraid I'm almost obsessed with it. <br />
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Zentangle is a form of doodling. Apparently, it's also a form of meditation. I came across some examples of it on Pinterest and have been hooked. For my birthday, I received quite a few gift cards to my favorite place in the world: Barnes and Noble. I purchased a sketchbook, brush markers, three Zentangle books, a drawing book, and a bunch of other stuff. (Yeah, I had a lot to spend and I LOVED every penny of it!) Probably no coincidence that my last blog post was 4 days after my birthday. Sorry about that. <br />
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Some people say that multitasking is not really possible. I beg to differ. Here's what I've watched on Netflix:<br />
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<b>Television:</b><br />
Trailer Park Boys - All 7 seasons, the movie, and Live from Dublin<br />
Dexter - All seasons<br />
Behind Bars - All available episodes<br />
I Almost Got Away With It - 3 episodes<br />
American Horror Story - Season 1, Season 2 - 9 episodes<br />
Orange is the New Black - 2 Seasons<br />
The Office - 2 Seasons<br />
Derek - 5 Episodes<br />
The Andy Griffith Show - 4 episodes<br />
Psych - 5 episodes<br />
30 Days - 1 episode<br />
Wilfred - 2 episodes<br />
Ron White (A Little Unprofessional)<br />
House, M.D. - 2 Seasons<br />
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<b>Movies:</b><br />
Honey, I Shrunk the Kids<br />
The Family<br />
The Lorax<br />
Undertaking Betty<br />
Turbo<br />
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Seems like a lot of Netflix, and yes, I agree. I can't just sit and watch Netflix, though. Some people knit while they watch television, some do crossword puzzles, maybe even Sudoku. I used to do Sudoku until I started doing this:<br />
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And this is why I've neglected my blog. To learn more about Zentangle, Google it! Try it. You'll like it. <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-20922069259859143212014-05-13T22:48:00.002-05:002014-05-13T22:52:40.520-05:00The Beginning of My 32nd YearOne of my coworkers was telling me about a woman she met on a flight from Arizona to Rochester, Minnesota. Just 40 miles west of La Crosse in the small town of Fremont, Minnesota, Martha Johnson is still running The Fremont Store at the age of 98. As she was telling me about her flight and about a trip she and her boyfriend took to the store, I felt compelled to meet this woman. So, last Friday morning, on my 32nd birthday, I hit I-90 knowing it was going to be a memorable day. <br />
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When I took exit 242 and began looking for <i>Fremont Store Road</i>, I expected to become lost in the middle of nowhere. With the help of Google, I at least knew what the store looked like. A little over a mile down the country road, the store stood on the left and I almost drove right by it. I parked to the right, between the store and a little yellow house, which I assumed belonged to Martha. <br />
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A bell rang as I opened the door and walked into the smell and warmth of a burning wood stove. Martha was wearing a leopard print blouse and looked very similar to how I imagined her. She was standing next to her walker with a broom, sweeping the uneven floorboards. <br />
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I introduced myself and explained how I heard of her and the store. Within minutes, I was helping her put the pile she swept up into the trash can. She invited me to have a seat, so I pulled up a folding chair that was beside a card table with a cloth checker board on it. Martha took a seat in an old antique rocking chair behind the register and just across from me. I had not even been in the store five minutes and I felt as though I had known this woman for many years. <br />
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The Fremont Store had been running for 158 years and visiting with Martha on Friday felt like stepping back in time. Our conversation reminded me so much of my Great Grandma Grace and the times I spent with her in her little house back home in Wausau. Just like when I would sit with Grandma, I listened intently and occasionally asked questions.<br />
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My eyes wandered around the store as she spoke of her husband (now deceased), her children, and her small town life. The shelves were stocked with candy, potato chips, snacks, and candy bars. There were also everyday household supplies like garbage bags, laundry soap, and paper towel. A variety of sodas and beverages were in the cooler beside an old refrigerator with a sign listing all of its contents. <br />
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The door opened and the bell rang several times in the two hours I sat and visited. A middle-aged woman in jeans and a heavy flannel shirt came in. She introduced herself as Mary, a neighbor from 'down the road', as she made a pot of coffee. Mary sat down and joined us for the rest of the time I was there.<br />
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Two men came in and they looked like they could be father and son. They had obviously never been to the store before because they didn't know it is a self-check-out establishment. Martha has macular degeneration and is losing her eyesight, so customers open the register and make their own change. They paid for their candy bars and Mountain Dews on the honor system and after witnessing this, I immediately felt very silly for having locked my car before coming in. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-CH4gh1PmPyQ2vYae-nDTBxbrVpzBNmA5iiavw_wmNXuLNgxlBPwURxVE1nWYN11hCJy07hhnTduooU98kEcLzn-JNL5gvK6tTA4VMm7qf8GYOglt-9iA3oYwmwXxFjP7qyPb09Vwu5o/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-CH4gh1PmPyQ2vYae-nDTBxbrVpzBNmA5iiavw_wmNXuLNgxlBPwURxVE1nWYN11hCJy07hhnTduooU98kEcLzn-JNL5gvK6tTA4VMm7qf8GYOglt-9iA3oYwmwXxFjP7qyPb09Vwu5o/s1600/photo+3.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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Shortly after they left, another gentleman walked in. He was an older man and within two minutes of his entrance I learned that he was a farmer from 'south of La Crescent'. This was his first visit to the Fremont Store. He chatted for a while, paid for his soda, and left.<br />
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Martha made sure to tell everyone about the guestbook to sign by the door. "Mary, you sign it, too!" She said. Mary replied, "Martha! I come in here every week and you have me sign it EVERY week." I left before Mary did, but I'm willing to bet that she signed the guestbook again. Martha just doesn't seem like someone you can easily say <i>no</i> to. <br />
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My first attempt to leave, I picked out a few candy bars and a root beer for the ride home, checked myself out at the register, and then sat back down. Martha told me about her son who had muscular dystrophy and helped run the store, how she fell outside behind the store last year, and about the heart attack she suffered. "I'll never go into a nursing home," she said. I believe her. <br />
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When I finally said goodbye, I turned the music off in my car and began driving back to La Crosse. I spent the next 40 miles thinking about some of the things she had said that took me back to my childhood. To the time when I had all of my grandparents and two great-grandmothers still living. <br />
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<i>"These days, you have to schedule an appointment to see your relatives. We used to just show up. Didn't matter if you were hanging laundry, you just took time to have a cup of coffee and visit."</i> This was our upbringing. We never called first, we just showed up in Grandma Judy's kitchen. Dad would drink coffee with Grandma and Grandpa while Shannon and I would play "secretary" at the desk at the top of the open staircase. Sometimes, we'd sneak into Grandma and Grandpa's bedroom and try on Grandma's high heels or braid the curtains. <br />
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When I started 6th grade, the school was right across the street from Grandma Jean and Grandpa Larry's house. Sometimes I would miss the bus on purpose just to be able to go over and visit. Grandma would always feed me and if Mom or Dad didn't come get me, they'd drive me home. <br />
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When I made it back to La Crosse, I wanted to keep driving. Alone with my thoughts and memories of simpler times I've lived through without realizing in the moment that they were <i>simple times</i>. This woman I had only spent two hours with certainly created a legacy. If I learned anything from the visit, it is that in the time I have left on this earth, I have my work cut out for me. <br />
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It may not be as common to just pop in on people anymore, but I know now that there's an incredible woman ready to visit between 9:00 AM and 5:00 PM everyday at the Fremont Store. <br />
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Fremont-Store/232862293403930" target="_blank">Visit The Fremont Store on Facebook!</a><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-74739943084899374472014-05-02T09:07:00.001-05:002014-05-02T09:17:17.224-05:00Another Edition of The Dating Chronicles Maybe I'm watching a little too much <i>Dexter</i>, but I stood a guy up this week. My gut instinct was telling me that there was a strong possibility I would end up bound and gagged in a car trunk and my remains would turn on somewhere along the Mississippi River. There are just certain things that you shouldn't put in a text message to someone you've never met. Like, <i>wear a dress, heels, and nylons</i>. And,<i> I have something really special planned for you</i>. And, an invitation to hotel room to go along with this just made me feel a little uneasy. <br />
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<i>A dress and heels?</i> Really? I like jeans and a sneakers. I can run faster that way. He said he was in town on business and lives two hours from here. Just have to wonder what kind of business when he has all of this extra time to text and play on online dating sites. And, an invitation to a hotel on the first date?! I'm guessing he doesn't do hotels like I do. Fairly certain we wouldn't be in separate beds eating vending machine junk food and watching reality television. <br />
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The night before we were supposed to go out, he was texting me asking me to meet him for a drink. I was already in yoga pants and tucked nicely in bed. "No" may be a difficult word for me, but when I'm comfortable and in yoga pants, <b><i>NO</i></b> rolls off my tongue like the F word rolls off Debra's tongue on <i>Dexter</i>. (Another <i>Dexter</i> reference for you.) I spent an hour texting him <i>NO</i>! An hour that I could have spent watching Dexter, or writing in my journal about how much I LOVE being single. This dude had already become a thorn in my side before we even went out, so I didn't feel so bad about shooting him a text saying I wouldn't be meeting him. And, I'm not washed up on the shores of the Mississippi, so I think I made the right choice. </div>
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One week from today I will be 32 and I don't feel any pressure to get married, so why am I putting myself through all this? My biological clock doesn't care. In fact, my uterus and I had a talk and she's in no hurry to have a miniature human move in. In fact, she's the one encouraging the adoption option. </div>
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Then it hits me... maybe this guy was completely normal?! Maybe he's one of those hopeless romantics and here I am just talking to my uterus. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-25691203519549846642014-04-29T09:53:00.001-05:002014-04-29T09:53:12.609-05:00Decaffeinated! I did the unthinkable. Tuesday, April 22, 2014 at 1:15 PM was the last time I've had a Diet Coke. It didn't stop there. In the last week, I have only had one cup of caffeinated coffee. Not going to lie, the first few days were pretty brutal. Not only was I going through caffeine withdrawals, I was working 12 hours shifts and unable to take any type of headache medicine. I survived and I'm still employed, so miracles really do happen. <br />
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If you are friends with me on Facebook, or know me at all, you know that my world has been revolving around caffeinated beverages for a while. I actually trained my brain to think that it could not function for an entire 12 hour shift without the stuff. Or, maybe my brain trained me to think it couldn't make it decaffeinated? It reached a point where I would wake up in the morning feeling like my body was trying to register on the Richter scale, so I figured it was time to do something. <br />
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Easter Sunday, I landed back in the ER. My blood pressure was normal, heart rate was only slightly elevated, and no fever. Another virus. My body was doing that metabolic acidosis stunt again, so I received two more liters of IV fluids. They scheduled a follow up with my physician for last week Tuesday. The same day I quit caffeine. <br />
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It's a beautiful thing when your doctor opens up the door to the exam room, shakes her head and laughs. That's how you know you're a frequent flyer. In the process of trying to figure out what is going on, she ordered another 24 hour lab with a list of things I had to avoid for 48 hours before the test and during the test. So, I decided that if I had to give up caffeine, now would be the time to do it. And, I did. <br />
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I can't say that I've seen or felt any of the benefits of giving up soda and trying to eat better, but it's only been a week. The body is probably going through a state of shock right now. Understandable for someone who has a food pyramid that looked like this: <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-20347617491611262072014-04-28T18:40:00.001-05:002014-04-28T18:40:40.047-05:00Monday's Mental Health Moment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Anyone who knows me knows that I love children. This probably explains why "Kid President" is my favorite YouTube personality. I adore his outlook on life and could spend all day watching his clips. If you haven't yet watched any of his videos, take Monday's Mental Health Moment as the opportunity to do so. Enjoy!</div>
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Kid President: How to Change the World</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/4z7gDsSKUmU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-25396611977622850942014-04-21T09:58:00.000-05:002014-04-21T10:02:35.863-05:00Monday's Mental Health MomentLet's talk about my favorite topic today: <i>Journaling</i>. <br />
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I began writing and keeping journals in elementary school. I can still remember my first diary. It was blue and had a cheap gold lock on it. The key was tiny and bent every time I unlocked the diary. Eventually, I lost the key and just broke the lock off. I don't remember what I was writing about in that little book, but I remember using colored pens and practicing my cursive. Third grade in Mrs. Weller's class, I looked forward to two things: Cursive and Mrs. Weller playing guitar for us. </div>
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Early on, I learned that writing was an outlet and served a very therapeutic purpose for me. Even though my only publication was in a literary magazine published through my college, I consider myself a writer. Not a professional writer, but a writer at heart. I've written fiction, poetry, essays, research papers, a literature review, songs, book reviews, and non-fiction. Keeping a journal probably my favorite form of writing because I can put whatever I want on the page. There are no rules. I can even misspell words, use incomplete sentences, run-on sentences, and not care. (Not much different from this blog, huh?) It is something I find to be relaxing and I often write in my journal right before I go to sleep at night. </div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">What are the benefits of keeping a journal?</span></i></div>
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(These are just a few of my personal benefits that I have found through my writing. I'm sure anyone who keeps a journal could come up with their own list of benefits.)</div>
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<li>It is a tool that helps me reflect on the day before I begin a new one.</li>
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<li>I use it to set and assess goals. They say that when you write down a goal, you are more likely to accomplish it. I have found this to be true. </li>
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<li>When I pass on, my journals and writings will be something I leave behind. I wish my grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, and even my parents kept journals. </li>
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<li>I've been in many different mindsets and my journals reflect that. I can look back on my writings and see how many struggles I have gone through and how I came through each one a better, stronger person. </li>
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<li>It's cheap therapy! </li>
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<li>When I journal, I tend to be more motivated to accomplish things.</li>
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<li>Eases stress and allows me to vent about whatever I want to vent about. Sometimes there are burdens on my shoulders I don't want to talk to another person about. My journal is non-judgemental. </li>
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<li>I use my journal as a reminder to stay focused. To stay positive.</li>
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<li>It's a record of things I don't want to forget. </li>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>So, you've never journaled before? How do you start?</i></span></div>
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First things first, you need a journal. It can be anything. A notebook, a calendar (yes, people journal in calendars), a journal, a sketchbook, a photo album. This is your baby. Find something that works for you. My favorite place to find a journal is Barnes and Noble. They have a huge selection, but some can be a bit expensive. Try shopping online. </div>
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When I studied abroad in Belize, we had to have a journal. It was an ecology course, so they wanted us to have sketchbooks instead of lined journals. In addition to journaling, we were supposed to sketch some of the things we were observing. This was three years ago and this completely changed the way I journal. I no longer buy lined journals. I like the freedom of having a completely blank page to fill. These are the sketchbooks I purchase and you can find them in a variety of colors at Barnes and Noble. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/p/home-gift-basic-black-sketchbook/18213406?ean=9780641586033" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEQYGw5UP9s8t55x3o6eGCOqQKWCTisalWJrnrkFejDA3toC1VXRHuqri7iCNXNs1xKQBVbYQpIhbFc6MMLup0JFrZTvxuqHUCIrAMpp-08h9sUAuE_ziTmvbFMwf5UddeXhrksFaKS7Q/s1600/Sketchbook.jpg" height="320" width="174" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">8x11 Sketchbook <br />
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/p/home-gift-basic-black-sketchbook/18213406?ean=9780641586033">$9.95 at Barnes and Noble</a></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">*As a personal preference, I avoid spiral bound journals and sketchbooks. They come apart easily and the pages tend to fall out.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I work in Inpatient Behavioral Health and one of my favorite groups to teach is a group on journaling. Unfortunately, most of my journals are in storage and I don't think I'd be comfortable bringing them to work to show patients the endless possibilities of journaling. So, I started one that I could bring to use as a demonstration journal and I am having a blast with it! Here are a few sample pages:</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>A few things I do in my journal:</i></span><br />
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<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">When I journal about the day, I always put the date somewhere on the page. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">What I write (Not always all of these in one entry... just some ideas of things to include):</span></li>
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<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Something that made me laugh</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Something I learned</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">An event that occurred (a holiday, a current event, a birthday, a storm etc...)</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Something I could have done differently</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Something kind someone did for me</span></li>
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<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Write lists!</span></li>
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<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Lists of "Favorites"</span></li>
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<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Favorite Songs</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Favorite Movies</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Favorite Places</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Dream Travel Destinations</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Favorite Places I've visited</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Favorite Useless Facts (I have way more of these than anyone needs!)</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Favorite Restaurants, Foods, Beverages</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Favorite Summer Activities</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Favorite Winter Activities</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Favorite Apps</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Favorite Websites</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Favorite Coping Skills</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Favorite Unhealthy Coping Skills </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Favorite Childhood Toys</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Favorite Memories</span></li>
</ul>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Accomplishments</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Goals </span></li>
<ul>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Include steps to achieve them!</span></li>
</ul>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Positive Words to Use More Often</span></li>
</ul>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Make a page of favorite song lyrics</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Go somewhere and just make observations of what you see! (At a park, a coffee shop, the mall)</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Write down quotes that you hear throughout the day</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Make a page of your favorite quotes from movies</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Make a timeline of your life so far</span></li>
</ul>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I'm sure this is the first of many journaling blog entries I post. In the meantime, go unleash your inner writer!! </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-45675174925657980332014-04-14T22:08:00.003-05:002014-04-14T22:08:37.496-05:00Monday's Mental Health MomentI was thinking about thinking. Do you ever do that? Well, I went to my trusty little buddy, Google, and learned that the mind can process anywhere between 50,000 and 70,000 thoughts in a given day. At first I thought, <i>there's no way I can think of 70,000 things in a day</i>. And then, I thought about this some more. The last few days I have been paying closer attention to everything that comes and goes through my mind. Although, I don't have the patience to sit and count every thought I have, I am fairly certain I believe these numbers are accurate. At least for me. As I have been carefully observing my thoughts, I decided to share with you what I've noticed. <br />
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<i>My thoughts are not full sentences. Well, unless I'm practicing a conversation I plan to have with someone. Or, I re-think a conversation that has already taken place.</i><br />
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<i>A mental eye roll counts as a thought, right?</i><br />
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<i>I make sigh, grunt, and groan noises in my head. (For example: arg, uh, oh, DOH, grrr.)</i><br />
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<i>When I laugh quietly to myself, I actually mentally say "Ha ha ha" sometimes. </i><i> </i><br />
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<i>I'm guessing that at least 75% of the "thoughts" that enter my mind in a day are just one or two random words at a time. </i><br />
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<i>Random song lyrics occasionally pop in my head. Okay, not occasionally. Frequently. Very frequently. </i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>There is absolutely, positively no coherent flow to what goes on in my head. If my thoughts were written down in a book, it would never be on the New York Times Best Seller list. Here's why:</i></span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></i>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>Chapter 1</i></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>Just kidding.</i></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>Once upon a time....</i></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>No.</i></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>Chapter 1. Yes. Chapter 1.</i></span></i></div>
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<i>Where are my keys?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>1, 2, 3,4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9... KEYS! 9th pocket. Always one of the last pockets. Ugh.</i></div>
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<i>Wait. Snow?</i></div>
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<i>(Will Ferrell pops in my head and he's dress liked Elf)</i></div>
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<i>SANTA!!! I KNOW HIM!</i></div>
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<i>Melissa. Focus.</i></div>
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<i>Skip ahead to Chapter 10. I'll fill in the rest later.</i></div>
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<i>What...is...that...</i></div>
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<i>Hm. I'm shedding.</i></div>
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<i>HELLO, COFFEE! Mmmm....</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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Yes, my mind works in goofy ways. A few weeks ago on the blog I talked about <i>mindfulness</i>. Our minds are pretty powerful and we spend a lot of time in our 'headspace'. Sometimes our thoughts aren't always silly, funny, or maybe even pleasant. It's probably unrealistic to think that all 70,000 of our daily thoughts can be upbeat, but I challenge you to make sure there's more positive than negative going on up there. It's also completely okay to quiet your thoughts and just let that space be vacant for a moment. </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-41650904896024778342014-04-07T21:30:00.000-05:002014-04-07T21:39:51.235-05:00Monday's Mental Health MomentLast week Monday was April 1st. I played an April Fool's Day joke on everyone and no one noticed. I'll try harder next year.<br />
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As I was driving to Barnes and Noble this morning, the Mental Health Monday blog was on the back of my mind. Trying to come up with a topic to focus on has proven to be a challenge. I couldn't concentrate on any one thing. Mostly because I downloaded new music and having my own karaoke party in the car took priority.</div>
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When I finally arrived at Barnes and Noble, I walked in with my laptop bag all set to chug some coffee and blog about mental well being. If you are familiar with the Onalaska Barnes and Noble, you are probably well aware that the folks there are pretty stingy when it comes to wall outlets. In fact, there is only one in the cafe area. Of course, someone had herself planted right beside the one outlet, but was not using it. Typically, this would send the Melissa into a silent meltdown. The MacBook I have belongs in a museum and has a battery life that lasts about as long as a goldfish out of water. I handled "my spot" being taken over like a champ. I ordered my grande white chocolate mocha with a peanut butter cookie. Then, I walked across the store to a group of tables near a wall outlet and settled in for some hardcore blogging. </div>
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As soon as the laptop had a pulse, Facebook magically opened when I hit the "FB" link on my navigation bar. After all, Facebook is how all great work is put on the sidelines. Within minutes, the window cleaners arrived and began washing the windows directly behind my chair. To my left was a clear view of the register counter and I spent too much time analyzing how the store could be so organized, yet behind the counter looked like teenager's bedroom. To my right, the International Travel section started whispering to me and a<i> Travel Ireland</i> book was the loudest. <i>You're Irish, Melissa. Pick me up. Read me. What blog? </i></div>
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<i>What blog?</i> was right! I gave up, packed up, and within an hour, I was in a fetal position on the couch in a sound sleep.</div>
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That's when it hit me -- <i>NAPS!</i> Sometimes, you just need a nap. How someone can crash for almost three hours after a venti (<i>yes, they screwed up and my coffee was larger than I ordered</i>) mocha? There is no explanation except that sometimes, you just need a nap. <br />
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<i>Today's Mental Health Moment Summed Up:</i><br />
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If the opportunity to nap comes knocking, you go to that door with your favorite stuffed animal, flannel pajamas, and your blanket and give it a big hug. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-28050278593611671922014-03-24T18:30:00.001-05:002014-03-24T18:30:25.089-05:00Grandpa Joe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
My first wave of ailments and illnesses began 15 months ago. I know you have all been on the edge of your seats wondering when this was finally going to happen. Well, here we are. </div>
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Monday, March 24th, 2014. </div>
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A day for the record books. </div>
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I'd like to introduce you to . . .</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">GRANDPA JOE</span></div>
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Melissa's Very First Bedsore!!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGOjBoD43wG5KCVwnkpUzZW6FV7K6Cdq50CUhQaME48dKa0MlErLlhxhcRKmoProrp80opZ7pkRT4uYoyDFrFXtGmswUxlSlkU-mHFSs6RUGRir6dcEm38eI-7lvW9IFYf1IO6vE42qvw/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGOjBoD43wG5KCVwnkpUzZW6FV7K6Cdq50CUhQaME48dKa0MlErLlhxhcRKmoProrp80opZ7pkRT4uYoyDFrFXtGmswUxlSlkU-mHFSs6RUGRir6dcEm38eI-7lvW9IFYf1IO6vE42qvw/s1600/photo.JPG" height="320" width="303" /></a></div>
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(Yes, I named my bedsore after the Willy Wonka character!)</div>
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I didn't want to show off too much Melissa, but this little fella is located on my right hip. So, you can pull your head out of the gutter -- that's not my rear end!</div>
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You can all carry on with whatever it was you were doing. Let's hope that Grandma Georgina, Grandma Josephine, and Grandpa George don't decide to make an appearance!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-1299471058359511482014-03-24T03:30:00.000-05:002014-03-24T12:24:45.399-05:00Monday's Mental Health MomentIf you're on Facebook or some other social media site, you probably notice people complain about Mondays. What is it about this particular day of the week that gets our undies in a bundle? When I was in school, I hated Sunday nights because they lead to Monday mornings. Like so many others, I despised Monday. Maybe now that I work a different schedule and I'm not a Monday through Friday 9 to 5-er, Mondays are a bit different for me. Unfortunately, for many others, Monday can cause quite a bit of irritability. <br />
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Sure, the alarm clock goes off and you're probably still in weekend mode. "Just one more day" echoes in your head as you smack that snooze button like it's a fly on the dessert you're about devour. A high percentage of workers arrive late on Monday -- more than any other day of the week. Monday is also considered "heart attack day" because more heart attacks occur on Monday than any other day. </div>
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Come on, Folks! Chill out. Monday is not that bad! It's an opportunity to start a brand new week. If you're staring at the clock counting down the days until Friday, that's sad. You're missing out. Make Mondays fun! Here are a few ideas on how to do that:</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Treat yourself to something! Many people order out on Fridays. Maybe Monday would be a better day? Who doesn't like a delivered meal right to the workplace? And, you wouldn't have to spend time packing your lunch on Monday morning, which could give you a little extra time to read the paper, watch some funny YouTube videos, or sing your favorite wake-me-up-song into a spatula! </li>
</ul>
</div>
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<ul>
<li>I don't believe that refrigerators were made to be naked. Go buy yourself some funky magnets and keep a list of "Things to Look Forward to Today". Sometimes when we wake up and already have a negative attitude about the day, the only thing that may come to mind is "Leaving Work" or "There's a 2% chance that class could get canceled". If you can't find anything better than that to look forward to, keep thinking! </li>
</ul>
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<div>
<ul>
<li>Make a playlist on your iPod or burn a CD (if people still do that these days) specifically set for the Monday morning drive! Songs should be fun and upbeat, or whatever puts you in a good mood! Here are just a few of my favorite drive-to-work tunes:</li>
</ul>
<ul><ul>
<li>"Find the Beat Again" - Sugarland</li>
<li>"It's a Sunshine Day" - The Brady Bunch</li>
<li>"Don't Stop Believin'" - Journey</li>
<li>"Get Down" - Audio Adrenaline </li>
<li>"Good Day" - Jewel</li>
<li>"Man in the Mirror" - Michael Jackson</li>
<li>"Outside My Window" - Sarah Buxton</li>
<li>"Walking on Sunshine" - Katrina and the Waves</li>
<li>"When There's No One Around" - Garth Brooks</li>
<li>"Wouldn't It Be Nice" - Beach Boys</li>
<li>"Blessed" - Martina McBride</li>
</ul>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Remember last week when I talked about <i>Me Time</i>? Schedule yourself a <i>Me Time</i> session every Monday! </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>On average, people don't smile on Mondays until 11:15 AM. That's ridiculous! Smile, people!!! First thing when you wake up! </li>
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Make your own list of what you can do to improve your Mondays! They really aren't that bad! You have between 51 and 53 Mondays in a year! Go make them count!!! </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-88925820820497886652014-03-22T14:56:00.001-05:002014-03-22T14:56:23.028-05:00This is Sick!I think I have mentioned this before, but when I look at the traffic that comes to my blog, it's mostly to my posts about my visits to the ER. I find this interesting. Mostly because it is probably my least favorite place to visit, the amount of money spent there could fund some pretty incredible vacations, and I never leave there feeling like I'm leaving Disneyland! Actually wait... I think when I left Disneyland, I felt exhausted, sore, and completely broke. Maybe, at a later date, I will explore how the ER is like Disneyland. <br />
<br />
I bring up what we are now calling Emergency Services because I had another visit there yesterday. Apparently, when you work in a hospital, people know when you are functioning at your normal level of goofy. With a blood pressure of 135/93 and a heart rate of 127, I was escorted over to the new Emergency department. Now, they must know me pretty well because had I not been "escorted", Melissa would have got in the car, bought an ice cream cone, and then found the nearest couch with a Dexter marathon rolling. <br />
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Of course, as soon as I was called back, my blood pressure was 120/80 and my heart rate was within normal limits. Don't get me wrong, this is awesome being normal. Remember, I am now a "frequent flyer" and "one of those patients", so we tend to lie about symptoms, seek medications, and just come to the ER for shits and giggles. <br />
<br />
The nurse was a little short with me and I can't really blame her. "What brought you in today?" is a question that has appropriate and inappropriate responses. I may have provided a few inappropriate ones. <i>My legs and my coworkers made me. </i> (Because, as I mentioned...I would have just played doctor and diagnosed myself with Netflix withdrawal.)<br />
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So, I was escorted to an exam room. I work for the hospital and I am pretty excited that the Get Well Network is now available in all of the rooms. Unfortunately, I didn't really feel like playing around with it, so I did not help boost their usage numbers during this visit. This visit was short and sweet anyway, which is good. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXHWBb82o0wKqiMUpB8Zc5uMA_xvCyzgVxRZ1XLAnGynX4I9PiF658vxv_KtBC9Ynvo66c1tbYgJIDzmES_tmUMrgOGsZyX542j_svV8VI9Mk9f9Ujr3QxLv9VVviR6SST9tUCzrPelyw/s1600/IMG_0753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXHWBb82o0wKqiMUpB8Zc5uMA_xvCyzgVxRZ1XLAnGynX4I9PiF658vxv_KtBC9Ynvo66c1tbYgJIDzmES_tmUMrgOGsZyX542j_svV8VI9Mk9f9Ujr3QxLv9VVviR6SST9tUCzrPelyw/s1600/IMG_0753.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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Now, I don't always take/post selfies, but when I do, I'm usually rocking some sort of strange fashion. <br />
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<i>Like the one of me wearing my 5-year-old niece's jacket:</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigcL82olo6IMdBVmAPVh_sMcpjMQ2_WgZCt5in2WjwzKBVi43geyipA8hyphenhyphenKZlEXnn82o3pfMMAvd0OhQ2H3yILadJAmosZR0QxEueyO_v7zRIy82VZQdkpMRtC-xS_Jtz_-pPz46LH59I/s1600/IMG_0293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigcL82olo6IMdBVmAPVh_sMcpjMQ2_WgZCt5in2WjwzKBVi43geyipA8hyphenhyphenKZlEXnn82o3pfMMAvd0OhQ2H3yILadJAmosZR0QxEueyO_v7zRIy82VZQdkpMRtC-xS_Jtz_-pPz46LH59I/s1600/IMG_0293.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Or, the one where I match my attire to my goldfish crackers:</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8eQ_ylR_npn3juvoK7ZQhEPMQhU9APvPDMjZ9RkB1n4zrWN273VkfX6bPSISOYyoxaqUVH8tk4rp3i8P1sLxm9Xg15fv4n23aAtxmzQF8TVzB1sLQI6ZZpkl3IPN3gxt6uz11x0y4w_I/s1600/IMG_0163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8eQ_ylR_npn3juvoK7ZQhEPMQhU9APvPDMjZ9RkB1n4zrWN273VkfX6bPSISOYyoxaqUVH8tk4rp3i8P1sLxm9Xg15fv4n23aAtxmzQF8TVzB1sLQI6ZZpkl3IPN3gxt6uz11x0y4w_I/s1600/IMG_0163.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
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Or, the one where I live by my grandma's motto - <i>If you've got it, flaunt it</i>!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPbTxJOylR-Wu0Nte10_0ax166FK5r_QCK5v15LGPg1OG1CJsbFgb0xvNdARwfzSevxnOb1Phho6QNMFcZipc4lHHVjXRrSlThyphenhyphenkbKrtiBimLcg9SBYK7l-yZ83E4ghzvxhU3cNbXC53c/s1600/IMG_0187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPbTxJOylR-Wu0Nte10_0ax166FK5r_QCK5v15LGPg1OG1CJsbFgb0xvNdARwfzSevxnOb1Phho6QNMFcZipc4lHHVjXRrSlThyphenhyphenkbKrtiBimLcg9SBYK7l-yZ83E4ghzvxhU3cNbXC53c/s1600/IMG_0187.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
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<i>And the ones where I find apparel to try on:</i></div>
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<i>And then ... there are these...</i></div>
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Who takes a selfie in a hospital gown and posts it on social media? Pretty much everyone with a camera these days! No shame, right? I just remember what a hit my Christmas letter was this last year and thought, <i>hey... just in case I don't get to Disneyland, a Mary Chapin Carpenter or Lori McKenna concert, or travel somewhere besides the ER in 2014</i>,<i> I should be prepared. </i></div>
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Upon exam, the doc - who I should add stitched my lip back in June of 2011 - determined that this is probably just a virus because of all the swollen lymph nodes and glands. Within 45 minutes, I was dressed and out the door with orders not to work, to rest, and take in lots of fluids given my dehydration history. And, he mentioned something about coming back in if I get worse. There was also something about a follow-up, but selective hearing only caught part of that. The part where he said, <i>you might want to. </i>I'm kind of thinking at this point maybe instead of a follow-up with my doctor, I should just start planning a Celebration of Life gathering. It's actually not a bad idea. There's a lot celebrate. Just not my health.</div>
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So, another weekend of water and gatorade, Netflix, Ibuprofen, napping, and more napping after a week of doing much of the same. I'm guessing I'll finish the fifth season of Dexter and maybe achieve my first bedsore or something. It's quite shocking I haven't had one yet. I'll work on this. </div>
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When all of my health issues started last summer, I began having frequent issues with hypoglycemia. For those of you non-medical folks (like myself), this is when your blood sugar drops too low. Anything lower than 70 mg/dL is what is considered low. (Don't ask me what that whole mg/dL stuff is. From my chemistry/biology days, I have a rough idea, but trying to explain it could be disastrous for all involved!) There are some fantastic (sarcasm right there) symptoms that go along with this. For me, I've had the blurry vision, uncontrollable shaking and weakness, headache, sweating, and heart racing. <br />
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This isn't something to mess around with, or so some have told me. I did have one physician tell me that someone of my height and weight shouldn't be too concerned about low readings. Nevertheless, I invested $250 into my pre-diabetes starter kit last fall and started checking my blood sugar fairly regularly. Keep in mind, without a diabetes diagnosis, this is all out of pocket. Insurance hasn't covered any of it. Each test strip I use costs $1.75. (Each time I check my blood sugar is one Kit Kat and a can of Diet Coke at Kwik Trip!)<br />
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Checking your blood sugar can get old. This is especially true for someone who is not labeled with any type of diabetes. I quit checking after the physician told me the low readings were normal and he did not feel there was any reason to be concerned. It didn't take me long to learn what my low version of normal is and what my abnormal version of low is. I don't start experiencing the symptoms until my blood sugar is in the low 60s. Back in the fall, I was having readings in the 40s and that was where we ran into some trouble. Over time, these things cleared up, or so I thought.<br />
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A few weeks ago, I was at work and had taken my morning break and ate breakfast. Within an hour, I was experiencing the oh-my-god-I-need-lots-of-carbs attack that should follow a meal that closely. After having three of these episodes in one day, I decided it was time to start checking the blood sugar again. <br />
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I've been doing this checking thing off and on for seven months. Do people ever get used to this? I can't even remember how many tubes of test strips I have gone through, but EVERY TIME... this is what I look like:<br />
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The entire process is quite an experience for me. First, you prep the needle in the little poker machine thing (lancing device). You put the test strip in the meter. And then, you press the lancing device against your finger. This is the part where I look at something to distract me. Sometimes it's the wall. Sometimes I cross my eyes when I squint them shut. And then, I tell myself, "C'mon you pansy! Press the dang button!!" And the CLICK sound is the worst part of the entire experience. <br />
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I can't figure out why this is such a big production. I've handled three arterial blood gas tests like a champ, a few failed IV attempts, countless blood draws, and the stupid finger poke kills me every time.<br />
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Moral of the story: I don't really have one. <br />
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I need a Kit Kat. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-77371293362355169742014-03-17T22:02:00.004-05:002014-03-17T22:02:50.586-05:00Monday's Mental Health Moment<div style="text-align: center;">
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Today is Monday. I bet you thought I forgot that last week I started this whole "Monday's Mental Health Moment" thing. I didn't. In fact, I started thinking about it last week. Not only is it Mental Health Monday in TheOtherMelissaMcCarthy's blogland, this is also the 100th blog post. That calls for a list. </div>
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Today, we're going to talk about something near and dear to my heart: <i>Me Time! </i>Everyone needs <i>Me Time</i>. If you are one of those people with kids, a significant other, a job (or several jobs), school, pets, and countless other obligations, you may not even know what I am talking about. As defined by Melissa, <i>me time</i> is time spent doing something you enjoy. It should be something you do<i> for yourself</i>.</div>
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In honor of the 100th blog post, I should have made a list of 100 me time activities. I didn't. I stopped at 71 because I'm ready to go to bed and enjoy 8 solid hours of <i>me time</i>. Your homework can be to come up with the other 29. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">71 "Me Time" Activity Ideas! </span></div>
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(#1) Take a walk.<br />
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(#2) Read a book. <br />
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(#3) Treat yourself to a coffee, tea, hot chocolate, or whatever you like. <br />
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(#4) Plan a vacation.<br />
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(#5) Go for a massage.<br />
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(#6) Hop in the car and go for a drive.<br />
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(#7) Write in a journal. <br />
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(#8) SING!!!!<br />
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(#9) Sudoku.<br />
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(#10) Have I ever told you about Barnes and Noble? You should go there. They don't kick you out for loitering. Trust me on this. <br />
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(#11) Play a musical instrument. If you don't know how to play one, take lessons. <br />
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(#12) If you have no desire to play an instrument, go find some live music somewhere. <br />
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(#13) Ride a bicycle.<br />
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(#14) Go to your favorite ice cream shop and get ice cream! (The Pearl here in La Crosse is my personal favorite. I recommend the cotton candy ice cream!)<br />
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(#15) Take yourself out to dinner. Go alone. I dare you.<br />
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(#16) Make a to-do list. <br />
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(#17) Take a nap!<br />
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(#18) Have you heard about Netflix? It's amazing how fast 4,500 hours of a television series can add up. I hit the end of a television series and I always think to myself, "That was some incredible <i>me time</i>!"<br />
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(#19) Take your dog for a walk. </div>
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(#20) Refer to #19: If you don't have a dog, go to the humane society and adopt a dog. <br />
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(#21) Refer to #19 and #20: If you don't have a dog and don't want/can't have a dog... sorry about that. You can go to Petco or PetSmart and look around. They let you do that, I think. <br />
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(#22) Refer to #21: While you're at Petco, watch the fish. I've been told that can be relaxing. <br />
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(#23) Refer to #22: If you have a lot of me time on your hands, you could name all the fish. <br />
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(#24) Just about every device you buy these days comes with a camera. Go out and take pictures of stuff. <br />
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(#25) Find a spot you like and watch the sunset. <br />
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(#26) Explore the wonderful world of Craigslist. There is some interesting stuff on there. <br />
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<b>(#27) Watch funny YouTube videos! Like this one: </b></div>
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(#28) You are never too old to color in a coloring book! Ever. <br />
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(#29) Write out some handwritten notes to people! A handwritten note is something that can make a person's day, so you're kind of hitting two birds with one stone on this one. <br />
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(#30) Walk around the mall and watch people. Just don't be creepy about it. People don't like that. <br />
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(#31) Listen to music. <br />
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<b>(#32) Watch another funny YouTube video! Like this one: </b></div>
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(#33) Google stuff. Just not your ailments. WebMD gives everyone a brain tumor or cancer and <i>me time</i> shouldn't be stressful. <br />
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(#34) Crossword puzzles!<br />
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(#35) Watch a favorite movie! <br />
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(#36) Refer to #35: Go to the theater and see a movie!<br />
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(#37) Write in a journal: Make a list of your favorite moments you've had in life!<br />
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(#38) Jump rope!<br />
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(#39) Get a pair of binoculars and go explore the great outdoors. <br />
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(#40) Refer to #40: You could also spy on your neighbors. Not recommended, but it's a possibility. <br />
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(#41) Read the newspaper.<br />
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<b>(#42) Watch another funny YouTube video! Like this one: </b></div>
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(#43) Take dance lessons!<br />
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(#44) Do Yoga!<br />
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(#45) Call someone you haven't talked to in a while. Yes, I said CALL. Facebook and text messaging cannot replace the sound of a human voice. <br />
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(#46) Go to Starbucks and get a birthday cake pop. You won't regret it. <br />
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(#47) Start a blog! <br />
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(#48) One Word: PINTREST!!! <br />
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(#49) "Word Chums" is an awesome game you can download on your phone/iPod/tablet/etc. Try it out!<br />
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(#50) Go to a store like Michael's or Hobby Lobby and find a project!<br />
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(#51) Go to the grocery store and buy one of those "naughty" items you never buy. (We'll talk about why we don't label food as "naughty" in a different blog entry!) My go-to grocery store favorite is Ben and Jerry's ice cream or Oreos and milk!<br />
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(#52) Speaking of eating, have you ever tried a Kit Kat? <br />
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<b>(#53) Watch another funny video! Like this one: </b> </div>
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(#54) Look through old photo albums. If you weren't around in the days when pictures were actually developed into prints, look through photos on your device. <br />
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(#55) Refer to #54: If you're looking through photos on your device, upload them to Walgreens, Target, or Shutterfly and order prints! Then, make an album or a scrapbook.<br />
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(#56) Look up cheesy jokes! <br />
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(#57) Research this day in history! <br />
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(#58) Write a poem.<br />
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(#59) Read poetry.<br />
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(#60) Go to a museum. <br />
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(#61) Plant a garden. Weed a garden. Do something in a garden. <br />
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(#62) Mow the lawn. (This is not something I ever do. There are people out there who actually enjoy this. I am not judgmental.) <br />
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(#63) Go to a sporting event! <br />
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(#64) Take a canoe or a kayak out on the water. If you don't have one, you can rent one! <br />
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(#65) Do pottery! <br />
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(#66) Learn to knit. Apparently, there are lots of YouTube videos on this, too. <br />
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(#67) Paint something. Just don't do vandalism or anything. Unless that's what you're into, but again, definitely NOT recommended and don't you ever say it's something Melissa told you to do. <br />
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(#68) Go test drive your dream car. Unless you're not licensed to drive a vehicle. This one isn't for you, then. <br />
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(#69) Refer to #68: Go-karts!!! <br />
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(#70) Find a rock climbing wall. What you do once you find it is entirely up to you. Some people are into that sort of thing. I'd rather sit on the bench and watch. <br />
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<b>(#71) Watch another YouTube video! Like this one: </b></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-7753172481170557102014-03-12T21:41:00.001-05:002014-03-12T21:41:19.760-05:00Post #99It all began in September 2010 when I was taking a journalism class and one of our assignments was to create and maintain a blog for the semester. As it so happened, I took a "sabbatical" that semester and did not finish the class. I did, however, keep the blog. At that time, I called it <i>The Seventh Year Senior</i>. Once I finished school, it didn't seem appropriate to keep it and instead of starting yet another blog (I have several), I just changed the name and kept rolling. I'm somewhat disappointed that I haven't been a more regular blogger because I thoroughly enjoy it. With 48 months of blogging, I should have done a little better than averaging two posts each month. I won't beat myself up considering I spent most of last year working diligently on a memoir.<br />
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This, my friends, is post #99 on the blog. I think it's only appropriate we celebrate by taking a look back at previous blog entries. At least that's kind of what I did for you. Here are some things I found amusing enough to share again. Enjoy! <br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">50 Melissa-isms from the Blog</span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I should be proud of myself for coming this far. Unfortunately, my arms are too short to pat my own back. With a quick flick of my leg, I can kick my own ass, though. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">I’ve never had an autopsy done, but I assume the Y-cut would be much less painful than the drive from Wausau to La Crosse for the first day of my senior year of college. </span><br />
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<i style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">It was difficult, but I have successfully completed a full week of attending every class. That doesn't necessarily mean that I was present, but my body sat in the chairs, my head nodded occasionally, and my notebooks were opened making it appear like I gave a hoot. </i><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">I even speed sometimes. Just not to class.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;"><b>I want to wear my pajamas all day and skip showers, skip meals, and drink coffee until I'm practically a peeing coffee pot.</b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">I have the sleeping schedule of an infant, the patience of a toddler, the acne of a teenager, the wrists of a retired interpreter, and the memory of an Alzheimer's patient.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">I called my chiropractor and apparently they don't do attitude adjustments. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">I had to learn to pick and choose what to put my entire heart into and what to completely blow off.</span><br />
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<b style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;"><u>I don't do anything half-assed. School skipping was certainly no exception.</u></b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">Before the super duper senior can become nice and cozy in the pajamas that won't be removed for a month, the recliner needs to be positioned perfectly.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">So, as I was sitting in the admissions office I was looking out the window staring at a cemetery. Life is short. Or, long. Depending on how much of it you've spent applying to colleges and collecting credits.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;"><span style="font-size: large;">For some reason, this thought makes me happier than a fly on a shit pile. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We started the day off with cartoons and juice. I believe we watched Penguins of Madagascar. That has to be one of my favorite cartoons right now. A few episodes of Spongebob followed and I was ready to throw a pineapple at the television. So, we shut it off and played with Play Doh.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">Seven years of college and I can't figure out how to use Shannon & Mark's coffee pot. I am going to go give it another try, or else today is just not going to be pretty.</span><br />
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<b style="line-height: 21.559999465942383px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's not that I have been sitting on my ass-ignments doing nothing.</span></b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">I did not forget to brush my teeth this morning. I simply chose not to. Toothpaste and coffee don't mix. My apologies to anyone who comes into contact with me today.</span><br />
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<i style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Well, I must leave now to go tour an animal research facility. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. </span></i><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">On another positive note, I signed the lease for my new apartment. I haven't seen it yet. I'm picturing dark paneling on the walls and orange shag carpet. Picture the worst and be surprised. That's my motto.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seven years of college and I have finally narrowed down my "what I want to be when I grow up" list to three pages. (Front & back, single spaced!)</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I don't get it. You go to school and bust your ass to get educated and to reward you, they dress you up in a cardboard hat and a curtain.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">It took me about 45 minutes to decided whether it was Tuesday or Wednesday today. And then I realized that it doesn't matter.</span><br />
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<i style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">As part of my sit-on-my-ass fest yesterday, I looked at job openings.</i><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">I'm feeling like a puppy that just left obedience school and has forgotten everything it learned. That's right, I'm going to pee on the carpet... chew on every pair of shoes I come across... beg for treats... and when I run outside, I'm not going to come back until I'm good and ready to come back!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 18.200000762939453px;">America is about to lose Oprah, tornadoes have swept across the country, the new bachelorette gets her heartbroken early in the game, soap operas are going off the air, Lance Armstrong is accused of being one of those medically-enhanced athletes, gas prices are still keeping America driving instead of biking because we can't risk declining trends in obesity, and the only glimmer of hope we can cling to is that THE PACKERS ARE STILL THE SUPERBOWL CHAMPS!!!!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">Okay, so I have accomplished a lot in my 29 years. Once I got a hang of that potty-training stuff, I was pretty much unstoppable.</span><br />
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<i style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">I'm used laying around doing nothing and I'm actually pretty good at it. I'm also really good at napping, even though it never used to be something I enjoyed. Now, all I have to do is pretend I'm in a lecture, and I'm out like a bear in winter!</i><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">They say to prep you should read newspapers like The New York </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">Times. That shit is boring. I read the Onion and Facebook status updates. Tell me I'm not ready for grad school!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">In the meantime, I should probably get myself a cup of coffee and a copy of the New York Times. If I get a puppy, it will need something to piss on.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">AND. . . I am $15.37 richer today thanks to all the people that have digitally downloaded my music over these last two years. I think I'll put it toward my next CD. With only about $1,984.63 more to go, I should be able to put something special together by the time I'm 102. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">Tomorrow will my mark my 30th year in this world. How cool is that? I've been watching friends and former classmates turn 30 for the last few months and completely understand why entering this next decade of our lives is somewhat terrifying. Growing older is a scary thing. So is the idea of Ben & Jerry's discontinuing Chunky Monkey or Half Baked, so it's important to keep things in perspective: Aging Is Not That Bad.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">One day last week, I drove to three different McDonald's restaurants at 5 AM trying to hunt down an iced mocha. Seriously, why are they cleaning their McCafe machines in the morning? Luckily, the third time was the charm.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">When I'm not doing all of that, I'm mentally swearing at the heat and humidity that has embraced us this summer and gaining incredible amounts of muscle mass at Anytime Fitness. I just never realized how squishy muscle was, which makes me wonder if I'm doing it wrong. </span><br />
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<i style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">Actually, 2013 is going to be a fantastic year. After seventeen (long) months of sending out resumes, cover letters, and filling out countless applications (over 200), I finally landed a career in my field.</i><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">When I look at my blogger tracker thing, almost 90% of my traffic on this blog comes to my blog post about going to the ER to have stitches removed.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">Within a minute or two, the nurse came around the corner.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">"Are you Melissa?" She asked.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">"Yes." I said.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">"Nope -- it's not the actress!!!" She said loudly to let the other nurse know. </span><br />
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<b style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">Within ten seconds, my eye was twitching and started spewing water, the clamp was pushing everything upward, and the doctor thought I was crying. It was a beautiful moment that needed a camera crew. No, not really. It was awful.</b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Sat with my phone up to my ear for five minutes while in a daze. Thought I was dialing someone, but finally looked at it and my e-mail was open instead. And then I tried to swipe my debit card through the pen holder at the post office today. TWICE!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"><b>My eyes were crusted shut this morning and I sound like I've been a pack-a-day smoker for 20 years! It would be in everyone's best interest not to comment on my hair today.</b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">First things first, I don't have a dog. My friends do, so I wasn't just some strange creeper with a camera that showed up at the dog park on a random Saturday afternoon. Although, it is probably much more acceptable to be dog-less at a dog park than child-less at a playground. People call the cops on that sort of thing. </span><br />
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<b style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">The socially awkward of this group was without a doubt... <i>Wookie</i>. I don't even think Wookie knows whether he is a dog or a donkey. If I had my way, Wookie would forever wear a pink tutu and I'd change his name to Grace.</b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">Just another day in the life. . . when I get those normal test results back, we'll go celebrate. And by "go celebrate" I mean we'll just leave our pajamas on and take a nap until I qualify for assisted living, a nursing home, or cooler space in the morgue. </span><br />
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<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">Hopefully Santa's elves are good at making these [glucose test strips] because he'll have to sell Rudolph to pay for a pack of 25. They aren't cheap. Nor are they something someone would open on Christmas morning and be so excited that they leave a yellow puddle of joy behind. Except for Melissa. She'd do that.</i><br />
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<b style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">You should not get someone test strips for their blood sugar without stuffing their compression stockings FULL of Kit Kats. Christmas isn't Christmas until someone's blood sugar is 450 and they are passed out on the couch with <i>A Christmas Story</i> playing in the background. </b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">If you can, give yourself a hose-down before you go seek medical treatment. </span><br />
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">And, yes, I wear granny panties, but I prefer to call them either granny undies or granny grundies because "panties" is my third least favorite word in the world. </i><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There are certainly things I like to keep private, so I put those things on my blog because I know no one reads it. The rest goes on Facebook.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">"My bladder is ginormous" never lets me down in a bar. And I've been in three bars this year. </span><br />
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<b style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">As much as I'd hate to die before the age of 137, I have accepted that it could happen.</b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">Test drive a car before you buy it. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">Apparently, this is common sense to some people.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">I like to spend quiet time with myself. Googling more junk to pack in the trunk of my cerebral cortex.</span><br /><br /> </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-89480284730263526002014-03-10T21:37:00.003-05:002014-03-10T21:44:00.767-05:00Monday's Mental Health MomentI am ashamed of myself. I have let 2014 carry on without posting anything on my blog. In an attempt to be a more regular blogger and possibly put my number of "followers" into the double digits, I decided to be unique like other bloggers. I'm going to start a weekly post called <i>Monday's Mental Health Moment</i> and, you guessed it, I'm going to post it on Mondays. I know Melissa very well and I'm guessing that next week Tuesday, I will wake up and say, "UGH! Melissa! You forgot to blog yesterday!" We'll cross that bridge next week. In the mean time...<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Melissa's Mind-fullness</span></div>
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Where I work (which is Inpatient Behavioral Health - we no longer refer to these as 'psych wards' and 'mental hospitals') we talk about mindfulness quite a bit. If you are not familiar with it, basically it's being present, or what some say is being 'in the moment'. I was first introduced to this term in 2007 at a table in my dietitian's office when we talked about mindless eating versus being mindful at mealtimes. Not being mindful when eating usually meant that I was inattentive to the purpose food was serving for me. Instead of enjoying meals, I was thinking about exercise and how I'd burn off the calories, the crap day I had, the school papers that were due, and the list goes on and on. Mindless eating was the only way I had ever taken nutrition into my body. Mindfulness taught me to focus on food as fuel and completely changed the way I eat and why I eat. </div>
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So, that is mindfulness in a nutshell. If it's not something you're familiar with, I encourage you to explore it more in-depth. It is not just used for food/mealtimes, but it can help with daily stressors and many of the patients we see find this to be beneficial.</div>
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There is mindfulness, and then there is <i>Melissa's Mind-fullness</i>. It's being in a different kind of moment. Melissa's definitely got a mind full. I can tell you that a cockroach can live for 13 days without a head. I know that in the time it takes to drive from Wisconsin to Alaska, you can listen to John Denver's "Rocky Mountain High" approximately 928 times. The actor who played Charlie Bucket in "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" is a veterinarian. Kickstart contains 5% juice and has 92mg of caffeine. An elephant that doesn't matter is <i>irrelephant</i>. And things like this float through my mind and occasionally shoot out of my mouth. All day. EVERYDAY. This is mind-fullness. </div>
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When the mind is so full that it hardly has time to take a breather. Some call this "racing thoughts" or "mania". No, not Melissa. I call it <i>normal </i>and even sometimes <i>entertaining.</i> I like having a mind full of junk. It kind of reminds me of my car after a 60 day stretch of below zero temperatures. It's too cold to clean it out, so when spring finally comes, I find all this crap I've collected through the winter. Basically, my mind could be featured on an episode of <i>Hoarders</i>. </div>
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How does one deal with a mind full of stuff? Oh, there are lots of strategies that keep me balanced and functioning at a healthy level of abnormal. </div>
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<i>Relaxation</i></div>
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I intend to dive more into relaxation and meditation on this blog at a later date. Some people seem to enjoy quiet music, nature walks, the beach, or reading a book for relaxation. Lately, my relaxation has been Netflix. Binge-watching, actually. I'm halfway through season 3 of <i>Dexter </i>and I started it last week. How watching a show about a serial killer is "relaxation" is something I can't really explain all that well. Like I said, keeping that level of abnormal as healthy as possible. </div>
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<i>Me Time</i></div>
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I like to spend quiet time with myself. Googling more junk to pack in the trunk of my cerebral cortex.</div>
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<i>Exercise</i></div>
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If you're one of the 9 people who follow this blog, you know I've been sick a lot since the end of last summer. Exercise is not really something I've been doing much of, but I used to. When I would exercise, I found that time hitting the pavement running was a good distraction. All that stuff my mind was full of found a closet to hide in while I focused on more important things. Like, how much I hate exercise. </div>
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<i>I'd love to finish this, but I've had to pee since I started this blog entry and now I'm becoming quite uncomfortable. After I go take care of that, I'm going to spend some quality time with Netflix. </i></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-41917925425230149212014-01-01T21:09:00.005-06:002014-01-01T21:18:06.239-06:0013 Life Lessons from 2013With over 1,000 friends on Facebook, I always have an enjoyable time browsing through my news feed. One trend stood out yesterday:<i> I was not the only one who had a rough 2013</i>. Some went as far as to say that it was the worst year ever. While I will not deny that last year (and thank the Lord I can now refer to it as "last year") presented many challenges, looking at the big picture, it was actually a great year. <br />
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January 1st, 2013, I woke up with a strain of the flu that my vaccine wasn't prepared for and spent two weeks in a fetal position. I was oblivious to the fact that this was setting the tone for the year. Every month of the entire year, I had to deal with some sort of medical issue. But, when I wasn't dealing with my health, I had some fun. Actually, even when I was dealing with my health, I had some fun. </div>
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If I presented myself as a glass half-empty kind of gal, I would have slapped myself with a "Hello, my name is Eeyore" name tag and have concluded that the year went to shit with the flu. That's not how I roll, though. With 31 years under my belt, I have learned a few things along the way that helped me tackle this year like a champ, or a She-Hulk, or whatever. Point is, I made it through the year and can look back on it knowing I'm a pretty tough cookie. And, I like cookies, so I'd much rather be a Cookie Monster than an Eeyore. Unfortunately, I've been an eyesore Cookie Monster this year, but that brings me right into . . .<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">13 Life Lessons from 2013</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">#1) You will never regret the shower you force yourself to take before you go into the ER!</span><br />
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In the unthinkable event that the doctor utters those most dreaded words <i>I'm going to admit you</i>, odds are -- you're pretty sick. When I was first admitted, for the first 24 hours I wasn't allowed to get up without assistance. One of my CNAs was a very lovely young man, but not someone I would have wanted giving me a shower. If you can, give yourself a hose-down before you go seek medical treatment. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">#2) Humility should be embraced. If you don't embrace it, laugh at yourself, and profess to the entire world that you wear granny panties, there's no way you'll make it through life. </span><br />
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That one doesn't need any explanation. And, yes, I wear granny panties, but I prefer to call them either granny undies or granny grundies because "panties" is my third least favorite word in the world. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">#3) Put it all out there on Facebook. Just don't put it ALL out there on Facebook. </span><br />
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There are certainly things I like to keep private, so I put those things on my blog because I know no one reads it. The rest goes on Facebook. Completely unfiltered. Last year, I remember posting a Facebook status about not receiving comments on things. You see, some folks become very perturbed when their photos and status updates do not receive comments. I am not this way. Over the course of my Facebook addiction, I have realized that the statuses and photos I EXPECT to be a huge Facebook sensation are often completely ignored, while stupid things like, <i>ugh, I need a nap!</i> tend to flood my notifications. That said, whenever something is neglected on Facebook, I have decided that, <i>yep, I have left them speechless</i>. Also, when you put everything on Facebook, it provides talking points for your friends and family and opens up discussions. When you put it all out there, it creates fewer questions when you see people in person. Sometimes. Well, like once it did.<br />
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I should clarify that when I say to <i>Put it all out there on Facebook</i>, I don't mean your lame ass drama or what you had for dinner. Unless for dinner you won a corn dog eating contest, that is. Or, your stove was broke, so you ate your Ramen noodles right out of the package. You can "put it all out there" without being tacky, making yourself look like an ass - unless that's what you're going for, or just being stupid. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">#4) NEVER pass up an opportunity to spend time with a child. Unless you don't like kids and won't have a positive interaction with them, or you are a pedophile. Then, by all means, stay away from children. </span><br />
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"A child laughs and average of 300 times each day. An average adult: 17 times." <br />
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If anyone has kept count of how many times I've said, "Uhh, I feel so elderly" within the last year, I would like to know. I bet it's about equivalent to the number of needles I've had in me (189, but who's counting?). Spending time with children keeps me young at heart, and lately, I'll take whatever I can get to feel young. Some of the best laughs I had last year have come from the funny things they say. I can honestly say that I am probably not an "average" adult because I laugh a lot. Even when I was in the hospital, I found things to laugh at. But I still need to laugh more, so that's why I hang out with children. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">#5) Hug People! Just ask for permission if you don't know them.</span><br />
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I used to hate hugging. I thought it was stupid. I am pretty sure that after I got out of the hospital the first time, I wanted to hug everyone I saw. It was actually kind of weird. As I learned more about what I was hospitalized with, I realized how serious it was. And scary. So, I gave a lot of hugs after that. And, usually, as I was hugging people I would say, "I ALMOST DIED!!!" (Even though, no, I didn't almost die. But I could have. That was the point there.) So, go hug someone. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">#6) When you start writing a book and that's all you do for months, but then wake up on your deathbed and decide to stop working on your book, you should start back up again at some point, but be flexible with the completion date and avoid run-on sentences in the book. Or not. It's my book and I'll do what I want. </span><br />
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The book is going to come back out of hibernation. And, boy, have I lived some stories that will add quite a few chapters.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">#7) BE ASSERTIVE!!!</span><br />
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I'm still working on this, especially when it comes to my healthcare that I have been receiving. I'll get there. Eventually. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">#8) I have the patience of a saint and an impressive bladder size. </span><br />
These are not really life lessons. These are things I've been told this year. The lesson in this is -- patience is something people respect in a person. It has been one great trait to have at work. And, the lesson in having an impressive bladder size... well, enjoy it because it is not going to be that way forever. And, it's a great conversation starter. "My bladder is ginormous" never lets me down in a bar. And I've been in three bars this year. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">#9) Test drive a car before you buy it. </span><br />
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Apparently, this is common sense to some people. But not everyone. I do like my car. I love the gas mileage it gets. I like the fact that I can see over the dashboard without a problem. The CD player is a piece of junk, though. BUT, it does have the AUX input for my phone, so I can FF through all 635 songs all the way to work and back. It doesn't handle the greatest in this winter weather, though. It has already needed a new battery. I'm going to have to replace the brakes pretty soon. I'm willing to bet it needs new tires. I thought the guys at the dealership treated me pretty poorly. That was until I met three ER doctors, two internal medicine doctors, and an endocrinologist. The dealership dudes treated me like a princess. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">#10) You are NEVER too sick to play spider solitaire. Or, Ninja Kid Run, but I didn't just admit that I play that. Okay, yes I do. And I'm NEVER too sick to play it. </span><br />
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True story. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">#11) Death and dying really isn't all that scary. It's all that unfinished business that is the scary part. </span><br />
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So, I finished <i>Breaking Bad</i> as fast as I could. It was kind of a race to see who would live longer: Me or Mr. White. The more loved ones I see go before me, the more I realize how scary death isn't. There have been plenty of opportunities for me this year to think about passing on. As much as I'd hate to die before the age of 137, I have accepted that it could happen. There were days last year when I probably would not have minded that big white light shining down, Grandma Jean, Grandma Judy, and Grandpa Tom coming down to introduce me to John Denver and Patsy Cline, but that obviously didn't happen. (Well, it did, but I woke up with IV bag number 6 rocking steady.) And that's good it was just a dream because I feel like I still have some things I'd like to accomplish. BUT, if it happens, it happens. Shannon and Mark know I don't want a big fancy funeral and I'm okay with a cardboard casket. Let the kids color it with Sharpies and decorate it with stickers, then take them to Disneyland with my life insurance money. Since I seem to be on the upswing and have some time and engery, perhaps I should design the t-shirts I would like them to wear to Disney? <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">#12) Limit the diet Coke and Kit Kats. </span><br />
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Yes, I am down 30 or 40 pounds from a year ago at this time, but I am working on that. Some muscle building needs to happen this year and it is going to suck. I get sore from walking around at work and I've learned to accept body aches as a new standard of living. Hopefully getting my vitamin D levels back to normal will help that, but I do realize I need to cut back on the diet Coke. I've switched to the small cans and have cut down considerably since my first hospitalization, but it really does help with my chronic fatigue I have going on. Still, I know an addiction when I see one, so I'm going to be replacing some of my diet Coke with cigarettes and beer. <br />
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Just kidding. About the cigarettes. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">#13) Melissa does not need to visit Moka every morning on the way to work. </span><br />
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That's all I want to say about that. It's still a bit of a sensitive subject. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Happy New Year!!! </span> </div>
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May 2014 be filled with many more lessons, fewer hospital bills, acceptable Vitamin D levels, increased muscle mass, some more music gigs, and ... if those children I hang out with have their way... a lot of dating! (I'm not quite sold on that last one, but you gotta make the children happy!) </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-57353736538032658082013-12-14T08:37:00.002-06:002013-12-14T08:37:58.624-06:00Another Wausau Adventure!I cannot believe it has taken this long to get my niece and nephews together with my "adopted" nephews. When Shannon mentioned a combined birthday party for Nolan and Madeline, I decided this would be the PERFECT opportunity.<br />
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So, yesterday we packed up Alan, Evan, and Owen and started the 167 mile journey from La Crosse to Wausau for a "cousins, but not really cousins" weekend! <br />
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If you are friends with me on Facebook, you know I like to quote the conversations I have with the kids. Here's what our 2 hours and 45 minutes sounded like:<br />
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[On Highway 16 between La Crosse and Onalaska]<br />
OWEN: LISSA! Are we in Wausau?<br />
ME: Nope! We're still in La Crosse.<br />
OWEN: UGH!!! How much longer, Lissa?<br />
ME: Almost three hours!<br />
OWEN: HOW LONG IS THAT????<br />
ME: It's like watching 6 episodes of Ninjago.<br />
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------A little bit of quiet time---------<br />
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OWEN: LISSA!!!! How much gas we got?<br />
ME: Over a half of a tank, Owen.<br />
OWEN: We dotta go get gas, LISSA!!!!<br />
ME: Not yet. I think we'll make it on this tank.<br />
OWEN: If we run outta gas Lissa, the van won't go anymore.<br />
ME: I'll make sure that doesn't happen, okay?<br />
OWEN: LISSA!!!! We need hot chocolate.<br />
ME: Yep! We'll stop in Tomah.<br />
OWEN: Does Tomah have hot chocolate?<br />
ME: I'm pretty sure we'll find some.<br />
OWEN: Right now?<br />
ME: We have about twenty minutes before we get there!<br />
ALAN: I have my wallet and it's got 22 bucks in it.<br />
ME: Oh, really? Were you supposed to bring that along?<br />
ALAN: Well, I brought it in case we stopped somewhere so I can buy a snack or something.<br />
ME: I think I can cover your snacks. Save your money.<br />
ALAN: Yeah, you have a job and I don't, so that's a good idea.<br />
OWEN: ARE WE IN WAUSAU, YET?<br />
ME: We have quite a while, Owen.<br />
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FIVE MINUTES LATER...<br />
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------ More quiet time after the Tomah stop! -------------<br />
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ALAN: I just CAN'T WAIT to get there!!! I'm SO excited!!! And I bet they are, too!<br />
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OWEN: Where are we, Lissa?<br />
ME: Almost to Marshfield!<br />
OWEN: Aw, I don't like Marshfield! I wanna be in Wausau!<br />
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[A few minutes later]<br />
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OWEN: WHERE ARE WE?<br />
ME: Marshfield!<br />
OWEN: We already been here, Lissa! <br />
ME: I know. <br />
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[A few minutes later]<br />
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OWEN: Where are we?<br />
ME: Still in Marshfield!<br />
OWEN: I really don't like Marshgarden, Lissa! <br />
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OWEN: LISSA! Your sister, with the spiky hair...<br />
ALAN: SHANNON! Her name is Shannon! <br />
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[Side note - she doesn't have spiky hair, but... okay.]<br />
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OWEN: Does her house have a bathroom?<br />
ME: No, they don't have any bathrooms in the house.<br />
OWEN: Where are we gonna pee?<br />
ME: We have to pee outside!<br />
OWEN: In the Marshgarden???<br />
ME: Yep!<br />
OWEN: REALLY? Lissa, you're just joking!<br />
EVAN: Yeah, she's joking Owen! They have bathrooms! And fireplaces!<br />
OWEN: Do you have bathrooms at your house?<br />
ME: Do you remember where I live, Owen? [This is a conversation we had earlier in the day. I think he forgets that I still live with them.]<br />
OWEN: No. Where's your house, Lissa?<br />
ME: I don't have a house, yet. I live with you. Remember?<br />
OWEN: Oh, yeah. I forget sometimes.<br />
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------- A Very BRIEF Pause in the Conversation ------<br />
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OWEN: Lissa, how did you meet us?<br />
ME: I met your Mom at school. She was one of my teachers. <br />
OWEN: At school?<br />
ME: Yep. And we traveled to Belize together a few years ago with school. <br />
OWEN: I don't remember that! When did you meet us? Owen, Alan, and Evan?<br />
ME: A few months after your mom and I went to Belize, I came to your house. Remember? We did some pictures and I liked you guys so much I talked your parents into letting me babysit. <br />
EVAN: And she's the best babysitter EVER! [[<i>I pay them to say that. Okay, no I don't.</i>]]<br />
ALAN: She's more than a babysitter now!<br />
OWEN: How did you stay with us?<br />
ME: Well, I felt bad that your basement didn't have anybody living in it, so I just decided to move in and your parents haven't kicked me out yet.<br />
OWEN: That was a really good idea, Lissa!!!<br />
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I should probably quit blogging and feed the troops! More to come, I'm sure!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-57873255648476087332013-12-13T11:10:00.001-06:002013-12-13T11:10:37.791-06:00"Now, what the @#% is wrong with you??"<div>
<i>Just because I'm all about my ailments these days, how about another ER/Urgent Care blog post?</i></div>
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Last night marked my 7th visit to Emergency Services at Gundersen for 2013. This time, I was able to be treated in Urgent Care and didn't have to go to the ER. After last night, though, I am going to seriously reconsider ever going in for a headache. <div>
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Wednesday while I was at work, I had a headache come on very suddenly and it hit right in the eyes. I took Ibuprofen and was able to finish out the day, but was completely exhausted by the time 8:00 finally rolled around. I went right to bed after work and called in yesterday morning. The headache came and went throughout the day. Around noon, I dragged myself off the couch with the intention of going into Urgent Care, but ended up just doing a drive-by and ended up at Starbucks for a cup of coffee and a birthday cake pop. If I've learned anything this year, a birthday cake pop from Starbucks is better medicine than anything else I've found. </div>
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I returned to the couch in hopes of tackling my Christmas cards, which are not even out of the package, yet. That didn't happen. Instead, I slept. And slept. And SLEPT! With the help of Google, I tried the ice pack idea and made the whole situation worse. Finally, I decided it was time to go in. Remember Natasha Richardson? The actress that died after she fell skiing? Well, I had a few incidents earlier this week at work that involved a few knocks on the head, so better safe than sorry... or dead. </div>
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I believe in Christmas miracles and mine came in the form of two nurses and a PA that actually treated me like a human being instead of a lying "frequent flyer". This was the first of the seven visits that my eating disorder history wasn't mentioned and I wasn't interrogated. </div>
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They did a CT scan and everything was fine. At that point, they decided to do a lumbar puncture (aka spinal tap) to make sure there was no bleeding. I have now decided that should I ever give birth, it will be a cakewalk in comparison to some of the things I've been through this year. </div>
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If you've never experienced a spinal tap, this is how it goes:</div>
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First things first, you put the beautiful back-wide-open hospital gown on. Fortunately, the bra and granny panties could stay on. You have to lay on your side with your knees brought up to your chest. The doc sticks a drape cloth to your back and numbs the site. He goes through the procedure and tells you things like, "you'll feel some pressure"and "tell me if you feel any pain in your legs". </div>
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I like to believe I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, but the second he started, my vision went out and I pictured myself in a morgue locker. What felt like an hour was probably closer to 5 minutes. Somewhere in there, I felt that "pain in your legs" he warned me about. He should have said, "If you feel like you're being electrocuted in a bathtub", but that probably would have deterred me from agreeing to this in the first place. </div>
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After it was done, they monitored my blood pressure and let me sleep until the results came back. I don't recommend napping on exam tables, but after something like that, even a cardboard box looks comfortable. </div>
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All of that to find that everything looks normal. I have migraine/headache medication to get me through the weekend if I need it and a follow up with my physician next week. Unfortunately, we aren't sure if this is related to everything else that has been going on the last few months, or if it was a result of the work incidents. </div>
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Today the headache is not as bad, but my back is pretty darn sore. I walked the mall this morning to see if that would help. Not sure if it helped my back, but it certainly didn't help seeing people in their retirement years flying by me. </div>
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I would like to think this was my last ER/Urgent Care visit of 2013. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-52913574859843488162013-12-13T09:56:00.001-06:002013-12-13T09:56:59.689-06:00Weekend in Wausau<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBzVMblH79oVTzEHLVA1cyFpNj9sDlvAj3TpAZxA_3IyP6rMTQvOslBcVV9KJv5kIR_BfkF0krGRRGej0Vr0nNtgFWeD_QPnde030rLw5U6JpzGUbokEQoz7Ttc7iKo3peB8Cb50GRVCc/s1600/IMG_0397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBzVMblH79oVTzEHLVA1cyFpNj9sDlvAj3TpAZxA_3IyP6rMTQvOslBcVV9KJv5kIR_BfkF0krGRRGej0Vr0nNtgFWeD_QPnde030rLw5U6JpzGUbokEQoz7Ttc7iKo3peB8Cb50GRVCc/s1600/IMG_0397.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nolan, Madeline, Gunner all ready and bundled up to go cut down the Christmas tree!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgraJM67KSceAzqTeXpqOJivP5T-LjAMQtr-9yeLQ_eK5fjBbjkBWER-ZXRaa0ly9ulRRsTjsr0VzHyMnuTsrtZeX2oFOlGibF_-AosHnLgBrls0pS4PUFrS39BjaE29Mm465zVuRCBEab5/s1600/IMG_0423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgraJM67KSceAzqTeXpqOJivP5T-LjAMQtr-9yeLQ_eK5fjBbjkBWER-ZXRaa0ly9ulRRsTjsr0VzHyMnuTsrtZeX2oFOlGibF_-AosHnLgBrls0pS4PUFrS39BjaE29Mm465zVuRCBEab5/s400/IMG_0423.JPG" width="300" /></a>Last weekend on Saturday morning I drove up to Wausau to spend the weekend with my family! Shannon, Colleen, and I surprised Nolan and Maddie and took them to see <i>Frozen</i>. I had the absolute pleasure of sitting next to Shannon for the 85 minute film. Have you ever gone to a movie with Shannon? The first 30 seconds of the movie, she looks at me and says, "Okay, this is already too much singing." This was actually my second time seeing the movie, so I'm thinking, <i>Oh, she is not going to like this</i>. <br />
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Well, there was a moment in the movie that Shannon seemed to enjoy. A line in one of the songs, <i>"what's a ballroom with no balls"</i> sent her into a laughing fit. The only two people in the theater busting a gut: Shannon and Me! I'm pretty sure the people in front of us, behind us, and next to us were ready to kick us out.<br />
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What I LOVE about hanging out with the Mudler family is they always having something going on, but always make time for naps. And, boy did we nap yesterday! It was awesome. What makes napping even better is there are kids eager to snuggle. Nolan, Gunner, and I crashed in the spare bedroom on Saturday night and I woke up with Gunner's head pressed up against mine. Nolan had his arm underneath me and wrapped around my rib cage in an <i>I'm-never-letting-Aunt-Kiki-go</i> kind of grip. There really is no better way to wake up. <br />
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Shannon has some Grandma Jean tendencies, I've noticed. As soon as I snuggled myself up in the recliner with a blanket and a 5-year-old lap warmer, Shannon comes out looking like this:<br />
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Apparently, it is that time of year when we rearrange the entire house and prepare for the Christmas tree. So, there I sat in the recliner watching all of this crazy cleaning happen thinking to myself, "it's going to be cold out there, but hey, I can be a lumberjack." </div>
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After the prep work was completed, we bundled up the children in their boots, snow pants, winter coats, hats, mittens, and scarves until they were walking like Randy from<i> A Christmas Story</i>. And, we ventured out to the tree farm to find the perfect tree.</div>
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NOTE: Shannon had no part of cutting down the tree</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gunner having a hard time getting back up.</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-42438172305645510782013-11-26T10:59:00.001-06:002013-11-26T10:59:56.378-06:00My Current Health Status<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Three months ago today I was discharged from the hospital after being admitted for metabolic acidosis and severe dehydration. In the weeks that followed, I ended up back in the ER for fluids, rapidly changing blood pressure readings, and was admitted for a second time just over a month ago. I dropped close to twenty pounds in that time and spent more time sleeping than awake. Through this whole thing, I experienced a level of frustration I had never quite experienced before. There are previous blog posts about all that and, quite frankly, I'm worn out from trying to explain myself. <br />
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On November 4th I had the absolute displeasure of seeing an endocrinologist. I won't recap that. Again, on the blog for your reading enjoyment. So, last I posted about this, I mentioned that I had some lab work done. The endocrine doc was pretty confident that everything would come back normal. The lab results were posted and everything came back within normal limits, except for my ACTH levels. In the weeks to follow, I received a letter from the doc. He mentioned my insulin test results and seemed to be pretty proud of himself that they were indeed normal. No mention of the ACTH results. A phone call to his office was never returned. <br />
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In addition, I was referred to a nutritionist. I saw her the same week I saw the endocrinologist because they all still think this is nothing more than an eating disorder, so a nutrition therapy referral was only appropriate. I was lectured on the lack of protein in my diet, but was still able to prove through food records that I was not starving myself. She put in a note to my doctor that she wanted my iron and some vitamin levels checked. That was November 6th. The lab orders still have not been put in and I have no more appointments scheduled at this time. Not that I'm going to complain about this because I did swear off needles for the rest of 2013. I am certainly no wimp when it comes to this stuff, but enough is enough. <br />
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As far as how I'm feeling, I have felt amazing the last few days. I worked 81 hours in two weeks and it was the first time since this began in August that I have not missed any work due to illness. I can tell I have put some of the weight back on. Not all, but my clothes are starting to fit better. Unfortunately, the better I have felt, the more I've been doing and I have realized how much muscle I have lost because simple activities are making me incredibly sore. If this is the end of whatever this was, I certainly have a long way to go to get my body back to functioning at the level it was a year ago. Like I tell the patients I work with, change doesn't happen overnight. This wasn't a few days of the flu, so it's going to take more than a few days to bounce back. And, I have been told I have the patience of a saint, so it's all good, right?<br />
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From the research I've done on ACTH deficiency, depending on what the cause is, this may not be over. I have seen how fast I can go from top-of-the-world to can't-get-my-butt-up-so-I'll-just-complain-on-Facebook, so I know this current "high" could be short-lived. I'm still checking my blood sugar "as needed" and occasionally check in on my blood pressure and heart rate. I haven't been seeing the extreme numbers that I have had and I've only had my blood sugar in the low fifties twice in the last two weeks. It's still a struggle to stay hydrated, but sadly I have become used to that.<br />
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It has been over a month since I've had to go in and visit all my friends in the ER. I'm going to try and keep this trend going. As a matter of fact, I wrote a letter to Santa and told him that all I want for Christmas (aside from the compression socks and motorized scooter) is to not have to go back to the ER/Urgent Care/Express Care for a LONG time. I believe in you, Big Guy, so don't blow it!!! Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-33168511422256852172013-11-25T22:23:00.001-06:002013-11-25T22:23:22.998-06:00Melissa's Christmas ListSomeone asked me about my Christmas list and it isn't even Thanksgiving, yet. I can't remember the last time I had a "Christmas List". I love the holidays, but I'm not about the presents. (I'm all about the egg nog, cookies, and spoiling the kiddos!) Thinking about the year I have had, I thought about some things that I could put on my Christmas list this year.<div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">COMPRESSION STOCKINGS </span></div>
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Because every 31-year-old elderly woman needs a drawer full of these. Not to mention, my list would be completely naked without them. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">BLOOD GLUCOSE TEST STRIPS</span></div>
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Because every 31-year-old woman who is not diabetic needs to have these on hand at all times. Hopefully Santa's elves are good at making these because he'll have to sell Rudolph to pay for a pack of 25. They aren't cheap. Nor are they something someone would open on Christmas morning and be so excited that they leave a yellow puddle of joy behind. Except for Melissa. She'd do that. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">KIT KATS</span></div>
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You should not get someone test strips for their blood sugar without stuffing their compression stockings FULL of Kit Kats. Christmas isn't Christmas until someone's blood sugar is 450 and they are passed out on the couch with <i>A Christmas Story</i> playing in the background. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">SANDALS</span></div>
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I have come to realize that I just can't have compression socks without some sandals to go along with them. The socks are probably slippery and I've already been in the ER five times this year and I don't need any broken bones to add to my list of ailments. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">A SCOOTER!!</span></div>
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I belong in this picture and that is all that needs to be said on that. Because I am working on a bottle of wine as I blog, I will say a bit more, though. My scooter would be decorated like a cop car, complete with lights and a siren, and I'd pretend to be chasing these two. The only reason I'd be a cop instead of something cooler is because then I'd have a box of donuts on my lap. You know, just in case my blood sugar drops, I'd be ready. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-82328675023692704452013-11-20T20:54:00.002-06:002013-11-20T20:59:36.184-06:00Melissa The MentorThe YMCA Reach and Rise Mentoring Program has begun here in La Crosse and a friend of mine is the director. When she took the position, I told her to keep me in mind as the recruiting for mentors began. We had our first training session tonight and I'm super excited about the program and being part of it. At the end of the night, we were given a homework assignment. We are supposed to engage in some sort of child activity before our next session. It should be something that we haven't done recently. Something that brings us back to our childhood.<br />
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I have to cross coloring off the list because I do that just about everyday. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">I am guessing that wearing my 5-year-old niece's jacket does not count for this. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">And, if it did, again... I just did this less than two weeks ago, so scratch that. </span></td></tr>
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Breaking my toys and sticking chewed bubble gum in random places is also something </div>
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I still haven't grown out of.</div>
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Again, eating candy and cake pops isn't going to count because I do that </div>
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on a regular basis.</div>
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I could watch a movie from my childhood, but I watch them all repeatedly.</div>
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I did not realize how many "child activities" I do until I started thinking about it while I was driving tonight. Just before the training session tonight, I was hanging out at the library with three little munchkins at Pokemon club. <br />
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Last night, we watched "Spy Kids 4" and made mac and cheese for dinner. <br />
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A few days ago I made paper airplanes. <br />
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"Ninja Kid Run" is one of my favorite games I have downloaded on my iPhone. <br />
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When I get to pick the flavor at the dentist, it's always grape or bubble gum. <br />
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"Old MacDonald" is on my iTunes and it was playing in my car tonight. (I should note that there were no children in my vehicle at the time. And I did sing along. It's a pretty cool rendition of the song, actually.) </div>
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I haven't thrown a temper tantrum lately. I could do that. Maybe tap dancing? Maybe I could find an amusement park ride that I'm not tall enough to go on. Now THAT would take me right back to my childhood. </div>
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In the meantime, I'm just going to play a quick round of "Ninja Kid" and call it a night. It's been a while since "homework" has been part of my routine. Good thing this is something I can handle. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-37046427613578468792013-11-18T09:31:00.002-06:002013-11-18T19:31:57.936-06:00Singlehood: The Latest Dating Disaster<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I wish I had a dollar for every time someone posed the question, <i><b>"Why are you still single?"</b></i> How does one even go about answering that? If I say<i> that's none of your business</i>, I'm a crabby closet lesbian. If I say something stupid like, <i>Mr. Right hasn't come along</i>, it means I'm a loser that doesn't get out and mingle and I'm being too picky. When I answer, <i>well, I have commitment issues, I am not a fan of being naked, and I like being single, </i>it's a little too much information and the conversation turns completely awkward. <br />
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I have tried the online dating thing more than a few times with various sites. In fact, a few months ago I decided to give it another go. I always try to go into it with an open mind, but I don't care what the profile says or what the picture looks like, if the first e-mail/message is all lower case with no punctuation and poor spelling, I won't respond. If <i>how u doin</i> is the best first line someone can come up with, I doubt I could sit through an entire first date. <br />
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So, my subscription was set to expire yesterday. I had been e-mailing back and forth with someone and we talked about meeting for coffee, so we exchanged phone numbers. Last night, I was snuggled up in a pile of blankets working on photo editing when I heard Sheldon from "Big Big Theory" say <b><i>BAZINGA</i>.</b> That's my text alert and it was a message from this guy. <br />
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It started all innocent. <i>How was your weekend? What are you doing? </i>He is working on his master's in counseling and had mentioned that he was working on a paper. Well, Sheldon's<b> <i>BAZINGA</i> </b>made me glance away from my computer to my phone and I was horrified to see two -- not one, but TWO -- pictures of this guy in his bathroom, full frontal nudity. I've never deleted a thread of text messages so fast in my life. In all of my college days, I don't recall EVER working on a paper in the nude. Who does that? <br />
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There were a lot of thoughts racing through my mind. Things like,<i> do guys really think women like this sort of thing?</i> Which turned into, <i>Oh my god!! Am I supposed to like this sort of thing? </i> I wanted nothing more than to suck my thumb and join a convent. <br />
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Of course, I had to e-mail my oldest sister, Shannon, to let her know about her sister's failed attempt at a social life. This was her response:<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"><b>TO: SHANNON</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"><b>FROM: KIKI</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"><b>SUBJECT: RE: Match.com Meets Craigslist</b></span></span><br />
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<b>Just had my own little casual encounter. I've been on match for quite a while. Started talking to a guy...going to school for his master's in counseling. And...we have been emailing for a while and I have him my number . Got FULL frontal nude pics sent to my phone tonight.</b></blockquote>
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<b>Single for life. </b></blockquote>
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<b>Sent from my iPhone</b></blockquote>
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<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;">Lol! OMG! Don't give up...they're not all big huge perverts! </span> </b><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"><b>By the way, I want to see those pics!</b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"><b>Shannon</b></span><br />
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If anyone needs me today, I'll be trying to trade in my iPhone because even though the thread is deleted, it is still contaminated. I'll probably put on my bathing suit and take 15 hot showers. Don't bother looking for my online dating profile. It's GONE! And, I will never be able to hear Sheldon say <b><i>BAZINGA</i></b> and not puke in my mouth. Thanks, jerk. <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491446290340123562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597530170512788286.post-50472431591199909642013-11-09T18:34:00.002-06:002013-11-09T18:34:29.171-06:00Crafters Gone Wild 2013<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Six years ago, the lovely ladies in my life started a November tradition we call <i>Craft Weekend</i>. Each November, a caravan of vehicles, packed to the max with sewing machines, fabric, quilting supplies, knitting needles, yarn, looms, DVDs, food, and adult beverages. We spend the entire weekend working on various craft projects, but that doesn't necessarily mean you have to be a "crafter" to join in on the festivities. Sleeping, coloring, cooking, drinking, or swimming all counts as being "crafty". </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTA-qYiB_MTyodiI_dvDdHGEaQyZOh-ho6xRmguMky6k_GZ-G6kc7NPTGYYVJGrqqcwkLkQZtr7rLs1YjSQrHudHvC96JaJtSONkogaYKHQG3rdZHSum52PoGifVC5Pul5nCfrz1rFcYM/s1600/IMG_0165.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTA-qYiB_MTyodiI_dvDdHGEaQyZOh-ho6xRmguMky6k_GZ-G6kc7NPTGYYVJGrqqcwkLkQZtr7rLs1YjSQrHudHvC96JaJtSONkogaYKHQG3rdZHSum52PoGifVC5Pul5nCfrz1rFcYM/s1600/IMG_0165.PNG" height="400" width="225" /></a>This year, I made the journey up from La Crosse. After driving to Alaska and back twice, you would think that a 257 mile trek would be a piece of cake. Well, as I get older and grow elderly, entertaining myself on long car rides is becoming more and more challenging. Don't worry, I still manage. Back in May, I purchased my 2007 Dodge Caliber. One thing I don't like about this car is the CD player. Apparently, it is temperamental and doesn't like the fact that I can spend 5 hours listening to the same song over and over for the entire trip. My truck never minded, but my car spits the CD out when it has had enough. When I'm driving, I tend to pretend I'm on The Voice or something and it really messes with my stellar performances when the CD just pops out at random. Regardless of how frustrating the CD player was to deal with, pulling into the parking lot of Northernaire made the drive SO worth it. If you are ever looking for an AMAZING place to stay in northern Wisconsin, you should definitely look into this place: <a href="http://www.northernaire.com/">Northernaire Resort </a> </div>
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Although this is our sixth year, for me, this is only year number five. I did not go the first year, but now I wouldn't dream of missing out. I don't believe I have ever done a "craft", but I have edited many photographs, did some creative writing, and spent some time in the swimming pool wearing the infamous green swimsuit that Shannon swears I've had for 15 years, but I insist it is only 8 years old. And, yes, it is here this weekend. And, no, there are no pictures of it up here. Yet. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcp8qY77trwY3VYce5if7uDi2pGq-88kXMOI66Ae48rxcmh5B22HAwb9nHz0G3cFhuIeGKBConlKlvqrVJJ9rSxRNhC4Bg2thO6AGdXG7FpdvhVTF02KzK4GPb5FNYNof6_Gardw1Hink/s1600/CRAFT_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcp8qY77trwY3VYce5if7uDi2pGq-88kXMOI66Ae48rxcmh5B22HAwb9nHz0G3cFhuIeGKBConlKlvqrVJJ9rSxRNhC4Bg2thO6AGdXG7FpdvhVTF02KzK4GPb5FNYNof6_Gardw1Hink/s1600/CRAFT_3.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a>Some of the crafters take this weekend VERY seriously. Aunt Kathy works diligently on making mittens. If you don't own a pair of her wool mittens, you should maybe think about investing in a pair. They also make great Christmas gifts. For $25, your hands will never be cold when you're out in the subzero temps shoveling or scraping your vehicle. Contact me for more information and I can hook you up. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBKEsZIhqRt7Hqooj47FFsTOC2mCwzifQHFtJT6_JAtgWdcMUhuklyrQfpCK6mdwdg_T66gipsntcW0VrDBw3OEHYwL_QKjbUtJgi7eHGj3oUnyBdCDWWQp9yN4B5QR0VkXt-yAnujCX0/s1600/CRAFT_13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBKEsZIhqRt7Hqooj47FFsTOC2mCwzifQHFtJT6_JAtgWdcMUhuklyrQfpCK6mdwdg_T66gipsntcW0VrDBw3OEHYwL_QKjbUtJgi7eHGj3oUnyBdCDWWQp9yN4B5QR0VkXt-yAnujCX0/s1600/CRAFT_13.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crafters like pins. At least that is what I've been told.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2A00dOhQuMrvdURYT9zRWqlEMj4knNwKu02TqfCU2si52NfxyPBGVANi8dmJRY5uTX8ezyY-dtrBesAz2fxl47igH20U2iecyCwMglfUYTw9ln4KCDqQm-1MyP204q3_yrnMQIRng32c/s1600/CRAFT_15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2A00dOhQuMrvdURYT9zRWqlEMj4knNwKu02TqfCU2si52NfxyPBGVANi8dmJRY5uTX8ezyY-dtrBesAz2fxl47igH20U2iecyCwMglfUYTw9ln4KCDqQm-1MyP204q3_yrnMQIRng32c/s1600/CRAFT_15.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are quite sharp. I won't go near them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_-931dZVF-DzX2PtEHmiy5F9nRONIJHNvdMmDhgm0xdiddCwLzbbMMkflAI_4XExxGKIhBNjEc9ahgCHnw0PI6ctqp9XSq8gJjSES5o02ptDv2DB0n-AYm2GBKmMdf9frh6eVmOWyXsk/s1600/IMG_0185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_-931dZVF-DzX2PtEHmiy5F9nRONIJHNvdMmDhgm0xdiddCwLzbbMMkflAI_4XExxGKIhBNjEc9ahgCHnw0PI6ctqp9XSq8gJjSES5o02ptDv2DB0n-AYm2GBKmMdf9frh6eVmOWyXsk/s1600/IMG_0185.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Typically, there are no boys allowed at craft weekend. We have made the exception when it comes to the children and this is Gunner's third craft weekend. Madeline came along, too, so I found it only appropriate to bring up my favorite kind of craft: COLORING SUPPLIES!!!!</span><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnmdDYM3Q-1f_gGaiEZSXlRBsEN2i9ZCMfHNGBvsohGlzCtua-OhpeMucc4CRkSXNYIj7lFu9dpNC9DlH_fLZQeiQpV1NSkrWVaa5slgDGpJob8oSOtqhQ2BiFpkBwdeq7Nrj0_Jz7jK8/s1600/Gunner_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnmdDYM3Q-1f_gGaiEZSXlRBsEN2i9ZCMfHNGBvsohGlzCtua-OhpeMucc4CRkSXNYIj7lFu9dpNC9DlH_fLZQeiQpV1NSkrWVaa5slgDGpJob8oSOtqhQ2BiFpkBwdeq7Nrj0_Jz7jK8/s1600/Gunner_1.jpg" height="329" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite "craft" is taking pictures of little kids!</td></tr>
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<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />So, we took Gunner and Madeline down to the swimming pool this afternoon. Of course, Gunner announces "I GOTTA PEE!!!!", so I took him into the restroom. We walked in and he was so excited to see a urinal. He pulled his trunks down and mid-pee decided he didn't want to use the urinal and relocated to the toilet, spraying down the wall, floor, and everything in between in the process. He was so excited to get back to the pool, he slid and landed in the hot tub. He was fine, though. <br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzrGNgo83PgcueOnL4NHssjcIJMbbx4hgCZHI3dZYKUsSGs-1VQINLum8xRDqi5ohSEX_Fksy862gVNwTDZ5hBmGqSGneIvQABPf9sbfCMUskbvSUDpdRtT3egyVObZonyRpKChV0FelI/s1600/CRAFT_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzrGNgo83PgcueOnL4NHssjcIJMbbx4hgCZHI3dZYKUsSGs-1VQINLum8xRDqi5ohSEX_Fksy862gVNwTDZ5hBmGqSGneIvQABPf9sbfCMUskbvSUDpdRtT3egyVObZonyRpKChV0FelI/s1600/CRAFT_1.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We try to keep craft weekend classy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifBmbG9IVljXVR5GwPMJLPlCgpGGkSh_Hgh_P2sGJ7YBilZEN-l88Dpgqp01Ujs0DUH5H33GfTrlSSfsZ4NOc-mZSMmC72opxGsa3Sb8u5LuPAVi42a816ckuVIfp6NUm6W0DHTnbX9FA/s1600/CRAFT_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifBmbG9IVljXVR5GwPMJLPlCgpGGkSh_Hgh_P2sGJ7YBilZEN-l88Dpgqp01Ujs0DUH5H33GfTrlSSfsZ4NOc-mZSMmC72opxGsa3Sb8u5LuPAVi42a816ckuVIfp6NUm6W0DHTnbX9FA/s1600/CRAFT_2.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christy made memorial mittens out of a sweater. Very cool!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI5AvfzIY3TNAy0xMFKYG9pQOvOdM3jj0q659WLg-HaIYmfguxcZHn5xWmy3iyJe1iZQcOQp0SDtOTc61_-aXuoYYxNT1J23REHc_bgJGqXFkGLgY6y-wVwOYlYfsecvjFTZbO1ss2FHk/s1600/CRAFT_4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI5AvfzIY3TNAy0xMFKYG9pQOvOdM3jj0q659WLg-HaIYmfguxcZHn5xWmy3iyJe1iZQcOQp0SDtOTc61_-aXuoYYxNT1J23REHc_bgJGqXFkGLgY6y-wVwOYlYfsecvjFTZbO1ss2FHk/s1600/CRAFT_4.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJJo3ES20Q3oVtrUsUvFP-p8WO_0XYXC5rUrlvRfiYf3zl-tj8wBifAbo1qvhlGLAC3bleE8HsNFkl10iaZvD_XlludE4EWG4oAY7YycPvU_yGivBWSmPdKItUo4h2_kNDq4oDxz4kF0M/s1600/CRAFT_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJJo3ES20Q3oVtrUsUvFP-p8WO_0XYXC5rUrlvRfiYf3zl-tj8wBifAbo1qvhlGLAC3bleE8HsNFkl10iaZvD_XlludE4EWG4oAY7YycPvU_yGivBWSmPdKItUo4h2_kNDq4oDxz4kF0M/s1600/CRAFT_7.jpg" height="640" width="425" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ULOu9exfssUkEPwW9QeZQQSh_0MZmOKC-NhuvTDUWXGc3G0SmzUqFd-pkW5LkeL90L-Wzpduyv59uGNvQWr_vOTYEEiNDzGWEToRMskU9CU5kO9gXBDcNvdAn79EqJGb_f4o7ZsQcsU/s1600/CRAFT_8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ULOu9exfssUkEPwW9QeZQQSh_0MZmOKC-NhuvTDUWXGc3G0SmzUqFd-pkW5LkeL90L-Wzpduyv59uGNvQWr_vOTYEEiNDzGWEToRMskU9CU5kO9gXBDcNvdAn79EqJGb_f4o7ZsQcsU/s1600/CRAFT_8.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woke up to snow!!! It's like CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik5KEx8feo3PxSypl9c1hHmVp149gWUkY9BazFMZPUtxW78QC71Slspj5et8xRQkyszNCjJBIz29Y2bqrpedjnnmJJrse3gNCzVKwXYrPwA_uAsYBBSvsUgRokvmKpfblHSNfXwUsibto/s1600/CRAFT_9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik5KEx8feo3PxSypl9c1hHmVp149gWUkY9BazFMZPUtxW78QC71Slspj5et8xRQkyszNCjJBIz29Y2bqrpedjnnmJJrse3gNCzVKwXYrPwA_uAsYBBSvsUgRokvmKpfblHSNfXwUsibto/s1600/CRAFT_9.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little guy had to be freezing outside!!</td></tr>
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