Month: August 2009

About five years ago, I got into playing fantasy football. It was one of those things that I did with a group of friends and every Sunday was devoted to watching the games at a local bar. At first, it was overwhelming, too many games on too many tvs plus the whole keeping up with how your team was doing. It could make a girl’s head spin to say the least.

I have gotten it down to a science though and thankfully between the internet and my phone’s ability to tell me what is going on, I don’t obsess over it like a used to well. Of course, that could all change this year because you never know how the season will work out.

I am in two leagues this year, one we do auto-draft and can I say I like that better than the sit around the table and pick players. My office league’s draft is setup to do it the old fashioned way. Which leads to people taking two minutes to say their pick. Of course the time limit is 30 seconds but that doesn’t stop them for dragging their feet.

We all have our favorite players and all but put it on auto and be done with it. I can’t deal everyone just sitting there, not listening to everyone’s picks and then saying the player that has already been fixed. Seriously? And the guys have ADD anyway, so getting them to sit still for an hour could equate to taking away their beer and dip. Pure torture for them. . .

But I am hoping that I have a good year and my players for both teams will step up to the plate and kick some butt. I could use a win, since it has been a few years since I have really shown them I know how to coach.

And yes, I will probably plan on Pitt’s defense and Rothlisberger as my QB because that is how I roll.

Go Steelers!!!!

By the end of the week, I was able to stay till 4pm at work, tired and a little frazzled but feeling more with it. I still am exhausted by the time work winds down but owing to the fact that I have lots to do at work makes to punch through the day.

I realized Thursday evening that my car tags were going to expire Monday evening so I had planned on getting up early Friday to run through MARTA and then spend my lunch hour standing in line to get my new stickers. The only problem was I had somehow thrown out my renewal papers. I figured that since I still had last year’s registration papers, that I could use that. Of course, then I remembered that it was 10 bucks to go through MARTA and they only accepted cash. So off I went to Kroger Friday morning to buy some gum, hit cash back and then do my Starbucks run. Once I was settled into my car, with the cash and yummy Starbucks, I realized it was trying to rain which meant only one thing, people would be clogging up the interstate scared that the rain might impair their driving.

Sure enough I hit the bottom of the hill leading to the on ramp and the interstate was at a dead standstill. Umm, really? I realize that it is barely sprinkling but that shouldn’t stop the flow of traffic. So I trounced on to Charlotte, knowing that I could hit back roads and hopefully make it to my destination before 100 cars showed up. Well, there was a wait but I was only behind three cars and then I noticed the sign. . .they now take debit/credit cards. ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I could have saved about five minutes had I known that.

Off I went after passing the inspection, picked up a copy order for a project and finally made it to the office at 8:15. . .45 minutes later than I normally get there but hey, I am still trying to get back into my routine, so I was thankful that I got there then considering what I had to accomplish.

Lunch time I headed out to get the stickers. My once, quiet, no one knew about spot to renew tags is now all the rage. I stood in line for over thirty minutes (not good for someone who has been gutted recently via surgery) until I got to go into the office to pay the county for gracing them with the presence of my car. How I miss having my car registered back home. For the cost I pay now, I paid a little less WITH a specialty tag back home. After purchasing my new stickers (that I have yet to put on my tag) I ran to get food and then back to the office to try and actually get some much needed spreadsheets completed.

Friday evenings are fairly boring around here. I tend to sit and watch tv, surf the net and contemplate dinner. I wasn’t that hungry but the thought of wings did me in and off I went to pick some up. I figured this was going to be another hermit like weekend and I could snack on my to go order throughout the weekend.

Since my wonderful doctor finally gave his blessing that I could get back into the pool, I knew that at some point I wanted to hit the pool. I am always pale but if I can get some sun, it tends to make it less scary looking. Plus, I had an eczema outbreak last weekend and was hoping between the lotion, Benedryl and possibly sun and chlorine, that maybe just maybe I could look less like a freak.

I did hit the pool both days, both times were only for a couple of hours, but the sun did me some good and it felt great doing something so normal as opposed to sitting in my apartment all day long. The best part? Today I am out by my pool, reading and this guy walks in through the front gate. But the weird thing was that he was dressed in a tshirt and a towel wrapped around his waist. Umm, okay. But then it all started to make sense once he got to his chair. Off came the shirt, then the towel and then OH MY GOODNESS, the guy has on a little bity black SPEEDO! Yes, ladies and gentleman, a guy that is probably younger them me comes to the pool dressed in his Speedo finest. Then after sitting there for all of three minutes, gets up, wraps the towel back around him, puts the shirt back on and leaves. HUH? Whatever, it was comical looking at him and his package in all their glory. I tell you, the characters that live here make me giggle. Sure, my body probably should not be sporting a two piece but it isn’t that bad. Well, right now it is because the bloat is still there. I don’t know how to make it go away.

Oh and yesterday, I tripped on over to Franklin to hang by the pool with Marti. I could tell my belly wasn’t feeling it because I didn’t have something supporting it but it felt so good to be poolside and get a bit of sun. Plus, anytime I am with Marti I am guaranteed a fun time. As I was heading back home, listening to an eighties weekend on local radio I smiled. Def Leppard, always good. Photograph, even better since I think that was when I first fell for them, watching them on MTV. The next song. . .Iron Maiden, Run to the Hills. . .one of the boy’s favorite bands. I must be a glutton for punishment because just the day before I was inundated with specialty tags and stickers for his college. Stop the madness please!!!!

I am getting back into the groove and am thankful that the dazed and confused portion of the program is finally going away. Now if I could only catch up with my work I would be doing well. But, hey I can’t have everything right?

I have this ritual when I get home from work; I have in my bookmark section on Firefox all of the sites I visit daily. And each evening I sit down, open the laptop and start hopping from one to another, reading to my heart’s content. Some are listed here on the sidebar, a nice eclectic group and I might add a few more at some point. In my control freak nature, I have my little method of going through them and just enjoying reading about others.

Some others that I read detail the lives of waiting tables. It was something I tried years ago and couldn’t do. See, I am a klutz and after being given a couple of tables, I dumped a huge tray of food all over the place. So my brief time in the restaurant biz was short and not so sweet.

I ended up in retail, worked at KMart for years and actually worked my way up through several departments, the floor and finally checkout supervisor/service desk. I had a ball working there, great people, laughs and most of the customers weren’t that bad. . . but there were times where I thought I would hurt someone for the stunts they would pull.

I have witnessed items being stolen only for them to walk back into the store trying to return them; electronics that were not purchased at KMart being returned (in fact, a major argument broke out between myself and an assistant manager who wanted me to approve the return–he was later let go for reasons not known to me); stolen money at the desk (I still can’t figure out how they did it) and of course the love lives of my coworkers, drama, drama, drama.

But I did like it and it was kind of cool because my grandfather had worked with several of the managers many years ago. When they realized I was John Smith’s granddaughter they all had stories to share and then they waited to see if I was just as hard of a worker as he was (I passed their test).

One Sunday (when the store didn’t open until noon) I was on a ladder, hanging Christmas bears on a chain from the ceiling. This meant that I was on the huge ladder that has a top step with rails on three sides. I am short, so I had to prop myself on one rail, lock my legs around the other two and catch bears and hook them into the chain. Some managers opted to do a soft opening on Sundays back then, through the garden center customers could enter and we would have one register open, but we were to focus on stocking. A man walked by, saw how I was perched and shook the ladder. A cohort, Daniel, grabbed the guy as I unhinged myself from my perch and flew down the ladder, yelling at the idiot. He thought it was funny, I thought about decking him.

I also used to get stuck climbing in the stockroom, looking for tvs, radios, games, etc., when someone wanted something that we were out of stock on the floor. At times, I thought it would be a great place to hide and avoid working but I could never bring myself to doing so. I stayed away from soft lines, our clothing department because that was hell. I did get stuck in layaway and let’s just say that I was glad that I was needed elsewhere.

When I transferred schools, I also transferred KMarts. Yes, I was that dedicated! The only problem was that while I had all of this experience and was a great worker, they would only put me on the register. Umm, I hadn’t been on that job in years and that was worse than layaway. Finally, the pharmacy manager plucked me from the dread of checkouts and put me to work in there. That was fun until I had to call the cops on a forger. And then I had to wait until the undercover guy came in to hand off the script to the pharmacist who did the transaction. They were immediately cuffed and shown to the nearest squad car.

But I loved that job, even the hours. The only downside was the holidays. People forget that those in retail have lives and families and no, we don’t want to stay open until you finish your Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve. We are tired, worked horribly long hours and well, we just want to go home because the day after we have to smile and accept all of your returns. My first name is short but my last name? LONG. By an hour into my shift at the front desk returning everything the customers hated my name had turned into about eight letters and was one of the first before celebrities started going by J-Lo, Brit, K-Fed. . .you get my drift. I would like to believe that I started that trend.

When I got my first post college job, I realized that my salary wasn’t what I thought it would be and that it didn’t go far in terms of rent, food and other bills. So I got back into retail (and I had thought those days were behind me) and went to Ann Taylor at the local mall. It was close to my apartment, I just had to book it from downtown and on break try to eat something as quickly as possible. I loved the discount, I loved the work and the customers were better unfortunately the discount got me into trouble. I normally spent my paycheck on clothes as opposed to say, umm, food and bills. So it didn’t really work out for me until I moved home, got a different job and went back to KMart for six months in order to pay off debts and save up in order to move out of my parents’ house.

I sometimes forget about those days but when I read funny stories from the waiters, I tend to think back to my days dealing with the masses and smile. I still have my old nametag but I would rather forgo vacations at the moment than going back.

Now, I should have waited until first thing Saturday morning so my swollen belly wouldn’t have played a part in trying to figure out sizes. Also, I would have been fresh as a daisy, with some energy AND had I waited until, say the end of next month, more pounds would have been shed, plus the swelling issue could have been gone by then. . .BUT I had this coupon for $$$$ off for Ann Taylor Loft. Sure, I know some swear that place is for the not so cool mommies or those who are entering their 40s but their stuff fits me. They have petites and quite frankly, it is not worth buy pants that are too long that I then have to take to hem because that costs more than finding pants that fit properly. And, when I go to buy clothes, I want to wear them NOW.

So off I went to ATL in Green Hills where one of the employees knows me. I have bought so much stuff over the past few years, that she knows I am a regular. I have space saver bags full of size fours that if I can ever get back into them, I will have a large wardrobe that will only need a new thing here and there. I gave all of my fat clothes away when I got thin thinking that would stop me from binge eating and all that got me was a trip back to ATL to get bigger clothes when I got fat, again.

So now my goal is size 8, which in some things I can do. If I can stay in the 8-10 zone, I will be content. I would be thrilled to be in my tiny clothes but I am not going to put that much stress on myself and I don’t know if I can stick to that anyway. Plus, well according to friends and mom; I looked horrible that small. I didn’t think so and quite frankly my butt looked great in my skinny jeans!

Well, it was like Christmas in August because guess what?! My favorite sales person (MFSP) said, “Oh you get 20% off full price through the weekend.” Yeah me but oh, I have this other coupon and it looks to be the better deal. . . So MFSP says, “We can combine them!!!!!!” Seriously? Snoopy dance on deck, ready for lift off. . . and off I went looking at everything, including sweaters that were on special that were still eligible for the percent off.

I hope that works for everyone to see. I love them, they will work for work plus going out (yeah right) and will be a nice transition for fall. Plus I got such a steal, if I had more money I would have bought a couple of dresses that I liked but I will just stalk those until they go on sale.

Today was my first day back at full days and can I just say, I am beat. Seriously, eyes can barely stay open and by the end of the day my belly was twice it’s normal size and cramping. I am normally running through the office, doing numerous tasks at once all the while thinking about 100 different other tasks I need to take care of. . . but since my surgery. . . well I am lucky if I can speak coherently and get one task accomplished and remember the next task I need to do.

This is beyond difficult and all the while I have a major event I am trying to plan while appeasing my boss by starting back full days to pick up what I need to do instead of him. It bothers me that I am having such a hard time at getting back to normal. Add that to my mental state in terms of love lost and well, it is no wonder that I am a big ole mess.

I don’t do slow, my mind normally is running all of the time and multi-tasking is my thing. That is why I am having such a hard time getting back into the grove. In an ideal world, I would have waited until late October, after my event and had the surgery but it seemed like such an easy fix that getting it over with was the best thing for me to do. Now I wish I had pushed it off until then because after that I would have had some time to sit, focus and be okay with being slower.

I think that if the weather is decent this weekend and the temps are actually lower than right now, I am going to go for a walk. Maybe pushing myself, especially the energy aspect of it will increase my energy level. Because right about now, I am ready to hurt someone. And that someone will more than likely be me cause I don’t do needy, helpless, can’t do a thing cause I need to rest. That irritates me. Very badly.

Oh and a quick prayer request for those that pray; my dad is having minor surgery Friday and as of right now he is miserable, so pray that he will start feeling better and that the surgery goes off without a hitch and that recovery time for him is quicker than mine.

A line from a song; one that I just discovered on ITunes by Kelly Clarkson. Sure, the song is part of the mainstream pop music, off the latest disc from the first American Idol winner that dropped, umm, a while ago. Yeah, so not hip anymore when it comes to music.

But the song got me thinking. About dealing with a broken heart. Dealing with disappointment. Dealing with failure. There are times in one’s life where it seems like all hope is lost. And dear readers, that is where I am at. At a loss, begging and crying at times, asking, is it over yet?

Love is one of those things that when you are younger, well, you just think it happens and off you go, into the sunset with your special someone. And I blew through quite a few guys when I was younger, taking for granted that finding someone of the opposite sex would actually find me interesting.

I got lucky the first time around on eHarmony. I met one guy who was prissier than me and then I met the boy. I wasn’t ready to go back to the well but I did in haste last month. I think it was more of a reaction to an action of being deeply hurt. I stupidly thought that maybe the boy, in not talking to me, healing was his choice of word, that he wasn’t going to jump back into the dating pool. But I was wrong and I jumped back in just to, well spite him. No, I didn’t tell him, I really didn’t tell a lot of people. I just did it, not thinking that this wasn’t the best thing to do at that point and time.

The guys I met were nice but had no interest in taking it any further than the first meeting. A great way to stroke my ego. In fact, it has almost solidified my belief that I am hopeless in the world of love and quite frankly, I am the buddy for guys, not the lover.

Like the song, Cry, I try to put on a brave face. I simply say we went our separate ways, that we wanted different things. But when you get to the heart of the matter, well. . .here comes the corny:

Is it over yet?
Can I open my eyes?
Is this as hard as it gets?
Is this what it feels like to really cry?
Cry

So yeah, I see my coworkers look at me and I try to be a okay about the choices that I have made but honestly, I screwed up, on a lot of things. This isn’t just about the boy, I have gone down so many wrong paths I don’t know how to get back to where I started. I always try to prove that I don’t need anyone in my life, that I can handle anything that is thrown at me. Then I crumble when I get home. Doesn’t anyone see how hard this is? Does anyone get that while I can stand there and scream that I got this; I really don’t.

I had so many dreams and the older you get, the harder it is to go after them. At some point I guess we all have to grow up and move forward. I am doing a dreadful job at it but as Freddie Mercury said,

The show must go on. . .

There is this movie, Dance Til Dawn, that was on tv in the 80s; Christina Applegate was in it and all I ever remembered about it was her planning it. It was all about the color puce! So, as any great dork would do, I looked it up on IMDB in order to remember the name and then voila, I hit up YouTube. The cool thing is, the movie is on there, well broken up into 11 parts but hey, I have time on my hands, so I watched it tonight.

It took me back to my younger years and yes, even though I am a dork, I went to prom. Actually, I went to quite a few. . .my junior year, twice my senior year (with a guy who went to my rival high school) and then as luck would have it, one of the guys I hung out with at church camp, I went to his senior prom when I was a freshman in college.

I loved my dress for senior year, black, short with a white ruffle off the shoulder. I think it would still fit in today if I had it and had somewhere to where it. . .my senior year boyfriend was great but alas he dumped me for greener pastures the day I graduated from high school. Yep, that is how I remember graduation. Nice timing huh?

But as with all things in my life, I have learned that sometimes great things happen to you and then other times, crappy things happen to you. I guess that is what life is all about. Especially when you learn to deal with those bad things. I wish I could say that I held my head up and was the picture of grace, but I wasn’t. I didn’t have those coping skills just yet but as that memory faded into a distant memory, I learned that getting serious with a boy at 18 might have been the downfall for me.

I can get worked up over the fact that I am not married and having babies at 35 but then again had I settled down with a boy back then or even in my early 20s; whose to say that I would have met some of the people I know now. Nor would I have experienced some of the things that I can say with a big smile that I have done so far.

I pray nightly that God will lead me to the right man but I know that even in times of begging and despair I have to accept that all of this is on his terms. I can’t push him to make it happen I just have to trust. I trust him but man, the waiting is what kills me. Sometimes I feel like my life is going 100 MPH and then other times I feel like I am sitting still in a traffic jam on 440 at rush hour in the rain, when it looks like I will never make it to my destination.

I went back to the doctor today. He was very pleased with the outcome of the surgery. He told me to get out there, find a boyfriend and have babies (well, I will assume that the good doc wants me to get married first). The thing that struck me though was his kindness. That he wants me out there to have those babies. And if I remember, to have my doctor take a picture of my uterus each time I have a C Section since that will be the only way I can have them safely. I am cool with that! Now I just need to get out there.

I didn’t say it was going to be easy for me though. I still miss the boy, still think of him daily and he is still there in my heart; with my hope that he might get struck by lighting or a light bulb goes off and he realizes that we are meant to be. Now I won’t be holding my breath but sometimes, well, sometimes it is just nice to have that little bit of hope sitting there, looking at me. I am realistic though and understand that he has moved forward, doing the dance he knows so well.

I am just going to keep plugging along. Hoping that one day, the right man will see me and all that I have to offer and will snap me up. A girl has to have dreams you know. . .

For those that know me, you know that I adore food, can’t you tell? I love to try new restaurants as well as cook. In the past few years I have gotten into the whole challenge me in terms of trying something new or the whole from scratch perspective.

Right before my surgery I sent an email to my parents listing a few items that would be nice to have for Christmas (yes, I still do that and should I ever have children I know that this list will no longer be about me and my wants, so hey, I am taking while I can). On the list was the lovely Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Julia Child. I knew that the movie was coming out soon, had purchased the book to read but was still reading Anthony Bourdain (oh how I love this man) so I had told myself that in order to see the movie I would have to read the book first.

Surgery comes and goes and in my haze of Demoral I had kind of forgotten about the email until I had a notice in my mailbox that I had a package in the office. Oh goody!!!! Money? Gift cards? Umm, no. . .those would have been shoved in my box, so I called Daddy asking if they had sent some sort of get well care package. Why yes they did and I begged him to tell me what it was and it was THE cookbook. The one the boy had cooked from for me during our time together.

As a promise to my doctor I was not allowed to let my incisions see the light of day, so while my previous weekends have been spent lounging in the pool, sunning my pale self to a nice lobster red, post surgery have involved naps, reading and the occasional outing to Stacey’s or Target (much to the chagrin of my mom who said I didn’t need to drive).

So I got up early yesterday, tried to watch some tv only to find myself napping on the couch for a few hours. I eventually toyed with the idea of going to a movie, so self indulgent, yet so wonderful. I settled on Julie & Julia due to content and the fear of seeing a sappy movie showing how love conquers all would push me over the edge. Thus I broke my little promise of reading before seeing but aren’t rules meant to be broken from time to time?

I found myself falling in love with Julia, connecting with her in terms of feeling out of place and just making it a go no matter what. I laughed and remembered why I love Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci so much, you forget who they are and really see the characters instead of the old, hey this actor is pretending to be this character. I have seen her kitchen in the Smithsonian and have the numerous pictures to prove my love of all things food.

Julie, I have know learned, was softened and made into a more likable character for the movie, which I understand since we normal women, when acting all bitchy, whiny and ill content, makes it hard for people to feel for, why, I have no idea. But I love Amy Adams and her take on Julie made me smile, cringe and think to myself that I too would have issues with killing a lobster.

The movie makes me long to visit Paris, something I have never longed to do, trust. It also made me see that I too can tackle Julia’s recipes. The recipes that she went over again and again, to ensure those less talented but willing to follow directions success when making a souffle (HA! I have already done that but I am all about baking, so tackling that years ago was a given AND I prepared one for the boy on Valentine’s Day, showing that while I always said he was the better cook, I too have skills.)

After the movie, I called my dear friend Marti and made plans to cook a real meal for her from my new cookbook.

Boeuf Bourguignon was my first Julia recipe that I have done on my own. While the lardon was a bit questionable (it didn’t look like the boy’s) I didn’t care. Cooking with wine has always been a fear for me, I do not understand why, but it is; drinking it is another story. The smells permeating from the pot took me back to those luscious smells of the boy’s home. It made me smile, it made me remember that I can do this and that giving him the power in the kitchen was a mistake on my part. I enjoyed it immensely and the leftovers that came with it.

Thank you Julie and Julia for reminding me that I have talent in the kitchen. I am looking for the next recipe that will catch my eye and make me smile. Until then, I am going to savor my leftovers. In a way, both ladies brought me back from the brink, something I didn’t think could happen by just going to a movie and clutching a cookbook.

His name is Eliot and I have known him since ’89. We met at church camp and it went a little something like this:

There was this girl dating this boy. They met at church camp the previous year and the girl was smitten. Boy lived in the next town over but seeing as how the boy and the girl were not 16, their relationship consisted of church activities, phone conversations and letters. The girl was looking forward to seeing the boy for a whole week at camp that summer when much to her dismay, the boy dumped her for a tarted up girl. The girl was very sad yet wanted to prove a point that she was the fairest of them all, so naturally she picked the next boy at camp and started a torrid (i.e. they held hands, passed notes) affair only to end it suddenly when mean boy dumped tarted up girl at the end of the week and came crawling back to the girl.

The girl felt bad for dissing the nice boy but their story had just begun. . .for the two  built a friendship that stands the test of time and distance as well as opposite work schedules that conflict with normal hours of socialization. The pair have kissed before but their greatest legacy is the love they have for each other, no matter who else is in their lives. . .

So that is the long and short of how Eliot and I met, the other boy, Patrick, well he faded into the background a long time ago. But Eliot does like to remind me of the whole toothbrush debacle of ’98.

My mother loathed El for quite a long time over a misunderstanding that I didn’t clear up until I was older and knew that being punished was out of the question. She managed to pick up the phone all those years ago and hear a bit of a saucy conversation that El and I were having. What she didn’t know at the time was that I was the one who initiated the conversation. My mind is in the gutter more times than not; unfortunately my mom didn’t know that my mind went there. . .oops.

Now she loves him and the best part, his parents love me! That is a rarity in my world. In fact, I just talked to his mom tonight; apparently my little surgery made the email prayer network back home and my former youth pastor had emailed El’s dad and well the rest is history. So now I may try to use my surgery as ammunition to get Eliot up here to visit because I desperately need to see him. It has been too long.

He is the love of my life because, well, he has been around the longest and it really doesn’t matter how long it’s been since we last spoke or saw each other because we pick up where we left off. El is the guy I can go to and whine to and he doesn’t mind. He also knows the old Amy, the one that kicked ass when it came to boys. He is also the reason why I am probably infamous within certain Holston Conference churches. That right there makes me yearn for those days back at camp, to really take it all in and realize those were pretty good days. He can make me laugh even when I get pissy and the fact that he used to send me cards with some of the best stuff written in them that still makes me laugh and cry all at the same time.

The girl still loves the boy and sometimes thinks maybe he could have been the one. But she also knows that no matter what, the boy will always be there for her; to make her smile and to make her laugh when she is feeling down. Thank God for the boy because without him the girl wouldn’t be what she is today.

Oh my dear Lord in Heaven!!!! Today was my first day back in the office and to say I was exhausted by the time I got there was an understatement. I thought the swelling in my belly had gone down since I could get my fat pants zipped and fastened. Well that was until I realized I had to undo them once I got there. Thanks to my BFF and her bella band (I need to get one just for days when I feel fat, this thing is a God send!) I undid my pants and went about the tiring mission of trying to pick up where I had left off last week.

After a long meeting with my boss, where I might have been a tad edgy and will blame on the surgery, I got back to my desk and tried to focus. Umm, that didn’t go so well. I actually have just gotten to the point where I could see my phone and it’s messages yelling at me to pay attention just a few days ago. Again, focusing seems to be my biggest problem at the moment. Not sure why I am having this problem but hopefully I will be back to normal soon. Several co-workers noted how nice I looked as I limped my way through the office.

I stupidly walked around to say hello and thank random people for calls, cards and prayers. I did show my pictures to any and all that wanted to see them. My boss was not one of those people though, swiftly grabbing an envelope for me to put them in so he wouldn’t even accidentally see them.

Sidenote: did you know that ovaries are white? Or that a uterus looks like the top of a baby’s head with the veins running all around? Me neither! But it sure is cool!

I didn’t get a chance to talk to Amy though, the brave one who was with me the day of my surgery. But I have heard her stories that she told everyone! Apparently, she did not want to be the one to tell me I was staying the night in the hospital. . .I think I took it well. I mean, I was doped up so a lot is still a blur. I also need to get with her to go over questions I need to ask my doctor when I go see him next week.

I got there a bit before 8 and that was late for me but then again school has started and for some reason people forget how to drive when school is in session. By 815 I was wondering if I could go home due to being so overwhelmed with how tired I was. I managed to stay until 1130 but now I wish I had taken another day because that kicked my butt. I got home and tried to nap but when I get to the point of being really tired I start to fight sleep. Nice huh?

So I will be heading back in tomorrow to try and get some work done but at least I have the knowledge that I can leave when I need to instead of sticking around until 4. I don’t regret having the surgery but I wish I could figure out how to get my energy level up so I didn’t feel like I was an 80 year old women stumbling around. And the fact that I am all about being so independent, well this surgery has put me in my place with regards to that. I think that irritates me more than this stupid belly.