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Random stream of conciousness [07 Sep 2016|08:55pm]
I'm watching the Commander In Chief Forum and wondering what the hell I'm watching.

Oh wait, I know. It's the end of the world as we know it.

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Well then [07 Sep 2016|08:33pm]
Holy shit, this thing is still here!!!!
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Deep thoughts. [29 Oct 2013|08:57pm]
I am in therapy.

This, of course, should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me or claims to know me, but I felt I should put that right out there.

I had a hard time with the combination of menopause hormones, child leaving home, child's personal issues, and a long time and tenuously controlled anxiety disorder. All of these things together led to a savory melange of stress and panic attacks that kept me paralyzed with fear or kept me crying in a fetal position.

Better living through chemistry, with the addition of therapy.

Therapy is HARD. Really, really hard. Therapy is painful. Really, really painful. But sometimes you have to lance an infection to get the badness out and start healing.

I'm dealing with memories I didn't realize I had. I'm dealing with baggage I chose to ignore. I'm dealing with me and all my issues I have with me.

Your brain has all kinds of self-protection mechanisms built in. I didn't know that. It was only through talking with my therapist that I realized that I don't remember any of my birthdays as a child. I don't remember much of my childhood at all. Dredging up memories is just that--dredging through layers of silt and mud.

And when you get to the memory and look at it... really, really look at it... and see as an adult what you went through as a child... And then you realize that while you're okay with this happening to you, if you saw it happening to another child, you'd be enraged. You'd be horrified. You'd do anything you could to keep a child from being treated that way. That feeling of disconnection is abnormal. So very abnormal.

My therapist tells me that I'm not fucked up. The people who raised me were fucked up, but I'm not. I'm a survivor.

I am in therapy, and I am in the process of healing.
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I need to do some catching up! [07 Jun 2013|08:42pm]
Last night, Olivia graduated Cum Laude. Next stop: Florida Institute of Technology.

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[28 Apr 2013|07:51pm]
Watching "Les Miserables" with the family. I want to die.

(I normally love love love musicals with all my heart, but this one falls in my category of "painful, long, OMG make it stop kill me now". This is the fourth musical in that list, the prior three being "Camelot", "Moulin Rouge", and "Phantom of the Opera".)

In short, I think I hate this movie.

Does anything more really need to be said? (Yeah, I hated "Life of Pi" last week too. Sue me.)
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Still trying... [27 Apr 2013|10:13pm]

Prom dress fitting.

Yep. That's my kid. I just felt everything sag another few inches there.

We also put in tuition and housing deposits at the college. I have to call and start arranging for loans for our portion (which has put me into a beyond neurotic state, which has put her and Thom into a beyond neurotic state.)

I will be a horrible empty nester but I'm also starting to think about what life will be like with her out of the house. It'll be quieter, and less hectic. Our water bill will drop by at least half. Our electric bill too, probably. Food? Oh, yeah. I used to wonder if her being gone would hurt our marriage, but I honestly think we'll be even better--we'll have more time together and I have to admit I really enjoy Thom's company.

It's all a matter of degrees, I guess. And I'll have more time to make it to the gym, and maybe find my brain again and start writing again. I'd like that.
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Almost forget to do this [25 Apr 2013|08:59pm]
Well... there goes my mancandy. Good night, sweet prince. #Survivor

Malcolm Freberg was my boo. I sat through one and a half seasons of watching him be all golden tanned and dropping Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings snarks all over the place.

He has an awesome twitter. He was smart and devious and a competitor.

And hot. Very, very hot.

So yeah, I'll miss Malcolm every Wednesday.

Exhibit A:

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[23 Apr 2013|08:59pm]
"I am starting to live for these: "

I'm still in love with HBO's Game of Thrones. People are complaining that the show doesn't follow the books, but seriously folks... I don't have 34 hours a week to watch the minutia of Westros. (but if they made it, I would watch. Oh, yes. I would watch.)
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[23 Apr 2013|07:55pm]
One thing I like about "The Following" is that whenever the story just gets beyond any reasonable level of belief, Kevin Bacon or James Purefoy will snap off a piece of the scenery and start chewing it with great vim and vigor. It's their performances that keep me watching.

I can forgive a lot. A whole lot. Exhibit A: My undying and inexplicable love of Orlando Bloom circa 2005.
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Let's try something new. [22 Apr 2013|06:59pm]
I'm going to see if I can crosspost my Facebook posts to my LJ to see if that will inspire me write a little more than I will on Facebook.

At the gym I discovered that the spanking brand new Arc machine has a fan on it. YAY! I also discovered the fan automatically disconnects when you go below 80 steps a minute. BASTARDS. Some call it motivation. I call it.... BASTARDS.

Here's the thing about Facebook--I can't really be me. My family's on facebook, people in my industry are on facebook and I'd really rather not get my freak on over there too, too much. Even when I say something that I think is harmless, I find that someone, somewhere thinks I'm completely off.

So Thom and I were at the gym. I'm still struggling with my weight and with all my deep-seated self loathing issues surrounding my weight. I'm also dealing with the fact that Liv is graduating from high school in six weeks and heading off to college in August--as in I've got a cap and gown in the closet and I have to put a tuition deposit down this week. Oy.

So needless to say I'm a neurotic ball of neurotic.

But really, is anyone surprised by that?
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[11 Jan 2013|10:03pm]
Today I officially am the parent of an adult. Liv turned 18 and I couldn't be more proud of what a wonderful, smart, funny beautiful woman she's become.

And now I'm just going to sit in the corner.
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Merry Christmas to all.... [25 Dec 2012|12:12am]
...and to all a good night.

I just posted on Facebook about the sobering thought that this is Liv's last Christmas as a child. She turns 18 in a little over two weeks. Even though Thom says that she'll always be our baby, I can't help but feel saddened by time's march.

I know she'll be home from college next year to celebrate, but eventually she's going to have her own family and her own children to celebrate with. I'm feeling incredibly sad about that. I know I can't trap her in amber and keep her as a child forever, but sometimes I wish I could.
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Update to last... [10 Nov 2012|08:23pm]
We've just found out that Liv has been accepted to her first choice college--Florida Institute of Technology. She's very excited.
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And so it goes... [10 Nov 2012|08:20pm]
I've got one more week home before returning to work on 11/19. I'm trying to figure out how to enjoy it since I spent so much of it either in pain or asleep!

Anyways, things proceed here as per normal. Liv is waiting to hear back from all the colleges she's applied to and is nervous. She turns 18 in January, which has me a little freaked out.

Thom has been wonderful in every way taking care of me since the eviction of the organ formally known as my uterus.

I'm feeling much better--I have issues with fatigue and soreness still (which is why I got another week out of the doctor.) but that's to be expected after major surgery and the complications I dealt with.

Tried on a dress today at Old Navy and the (extremely unflattering) lights there made me able to see the full extent of my scar. I had a midline incision up my abdomen which goes for quite a bit and I have the staple marks too. Not pretty, but still better than having that bitch of a uterus.

Mom is still with the current boyfriend since July. He hasn't asked her for money, dumped her at a Chinese buffett, or felt up and/or made suggestions to shower with any of her grandchildren. Sadly, this is a vast improvement over her last 6 boyfriends since last September--minus one. That Ken guy was nice.

Let's see here. Last time we talked about mom, she'd taken a header down Rational Sister's stairs, got her leg caught in the wrought iron and had a chunk of her leg torn out. That was right before Labor Day 2011. That was right after her asshole boyfriend of the time threw her out of his condo and dumped her at a Chinese restuarant for telling him that the grandchildren did not want to shower with him, and that it was not normal to ask.

Well, she didn't take her antibiotics and ended up in the hospital and almost lost her leg. During this time period, the three sisters and their husbands and Liv (who is now included in the adult conversations--very interesting) got together and made some decisions for her. Dickhead boyfriend had her sell everything she had except for the stuff he liked, give her car to Liv (since it was not 'safe' enough for her, and she could drive his 'spare' car). She was set to retire and they were going to travel--on his dime.

So she was left without a pot to piss in. We found a place for her to live--a nice little apartment that was newly renovated. We got her some furniture. We picked up what was left of her stuff from dickhead. (When I say he was creepy, I mean he was creepy. Liv and my 13 year old nephew went to help them move into their new place and by the time they were done, Liv refused to leave my nephew in the same room with him and he refused to leave her side. This is the cousin that really never spoke to her after he turned 8. The asshole took them to lunch and then yelled at my mother in the restuarant for cutting up his meat the wrong way. Then he kept trying to lure my nephew into other rooms or to the pool or to the shower. Liv texted me, texted my sisters, and then took him home directly to his mother and reported on said creepy behavior in great detail) (This guy was also trying to set up my 16 year old (at the time) daughter with his 24 year old son-"He's a lawyer! He'll be so good to her! You and me and Connor can head up to visit him, Liv. We don't need to take your grandmother. She thinks like a woman, Liv. You're different. You think like a MAN."

No, you think like a fucking pervert, you dickhead. She's fucking SIXTEEN. Does your son know you think he's a borderline pedophile? Dickhead.)

But I digress. Mother was still in the hospital when we moved her in. As Rational Sister said, "I don't care if she's dead. She's moving in here. If we have to wheel her in and tip her out of the chair, she's in."

So--here's the picture. Mom laid up. Hugeass hole in her leg. Unable to walk too far or do too much. Heart broken by ex-potential pedo-confirmed-dickhead-boyfriend. What do you with your spare time? Me, I read fanfic. Her, she hits the internet dating sites.

Liv and I came by the next Saturday. I'd stopped at the store for her to get her groceries (much to Thom's irritation. I was doing this out of my pocket, as I did with her household supplies, new DVD player and some other things. He was... not pleased)

So we get there and we find her larking around the apartment with the vacuum thingie on her leg (it has a part you can put over your shoulder like a purse). And there on the dining room table was a bouquet of two dozen red roses. There was another bouquet on the TV table and a third one visible in her bedroom.

"Mom, those are pretty. Who sent you those?"

"Aren't they gorgeous! Harold (?--can't remember exactly, there have been so many) sent them to me."

"Who's Harold?" I asked.

"Oh, he's a jewelery designer in Massachusetts. I met him online."

"Really? When?"

"Last week. Well, last Thursday actually."

"You met him online nine days ago and he sent you six dozen roses?" Liv asked this one because my mouth is paralizyed when my eyebrows go up that far.

"Yes! And he says he loves me, and he wants to come down and meet me and he knows that I want marriage and a man to financially support me and he's okay with that! Let me show you these in the bedroom!"

And as she turned her back to us, Liv and I looked at each other and I know you know the look we had on our faces because I know you have it too right now. Except add that Liv also was making the "Psycho" knife motion and noise quietly so she couldn't hear it. Mom turned around and Liv stopped in mid-stab motion to coyly brush her hair off her face with the same motion instead.

I had to continue. "But mom, you met a guy online, and you gave him your real name and your phone number and your PHYSICAL ADDRESS??? That's not safe! You don't know anything about him!"

"Oh, I do too! We video chat every night!" She blushed here. "Sometimes it's naughty. Very naughty."

"Mom, you'd better have a fucking world class rack to get six dozen roses for a tit flash."

::pause:: "I do."

At this point Liv is curled up in a fetal position, sucking her thumb and wishing she were dead. Mother, of course, does not see the obvious emotional damage she is inflicting on her granddaughter and continues, "He says he wants to design jewelery around the color of my eyes."

"Mom, you've known the guy online for 9 days, talked dirty with him, flashed your tits and gave him your physical address. He's said he loves you after 9 days. For Christ's sake, third graders know better. You don't know if he's a serial killer or something. For all you know, when he says he wants to design jewelry around your eyes, it means he wants to drive down here and make jewelery out of your ACTUAL EYEBALLS."

She giggled. "Oh, no. He's not like that. We've made a connection."

"Getting off together over the computer is not a connection."

Of course, it was not worth talking to her about it so we moved onto other things.

I came over the next Saturday with groceries and the roses and vases were gone and her mood was not as sunny. "How's Harold?"

"Oh, he's gone. He's over. He's a scam artist!"

"Really? Shocking." She failed to hear the sarcasm in my voice.

"I KNOW. He told me he was going to Nigeria to get some supplies for his jewelry making business" (At this point I already knew the end to this story. Nigeria. Natch.) "And he was driving down the street and a little girl ran in front of his car and he hit her and killed her. She was revived at the scene and at the hosptial the doctor told him that he would have to pay for her medical care because he did not have a Nigerian driver's license and he could go to jail if they reported him. And he says he told them that's fine, he was going to do it anyway and gave them his credit card and the doctor said, "We do not take credit cards here. We need cash." And then he asked me to wire him $5,000.00."

"And you told him?"

"I told him the truth! I told him that I didn't have any money and that I'd told him that up front. You know what he said? He said, 'Don't you love me? I sent you flowers!'."

She huffed and puffed for a while and then said, "I shouldn't be too surprised. The last guy I met on that site did the same thing."

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I keep forgetting this thing exists. [20 Oct 2012|10:20pm]
[ mood | exhausted ]

I really do. I'm all over Facebook, but keep forgetting my first love, LJ. Ahhh, I'm such a fickle bitch.

I don't know why. I mean, I have to be pretty careful about what I put on FB. I have people from work on there, and ex-work, and high school, and family. I just got picked up by my 14 year old nephew, so I have to be even more careful so I don't break him too young.

I mean, I can cuss all I want on LJ. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK. See?

Anyways, a quick medical update. I was released from the hospital on October 4, 2012 with a metric fuckton of pain pills, two pee bags (one that strapped to my leg for day--Activewear for the pee-bag set, I guess. The big selling point on that one per the nurse was that I could pee standing up. Whoopie shit. As my area rug, socks, and bathroom floor can attest, I was not very good at that one. The other was the big "overnight bag" that hung on the side of the bed and I carried it with me around the house. It was suggested on Facebook that I should Sharpie "LV" all over and carry it with panache around the neighborhood. snixen teased me relentlessly about it and still uses it as a threat.) and a 10" long vertical incision full of staples.

I was waited on hand and foot by my beloved husband (who really is too good for me). A few nightws later I developed a 102.4 fever. So off to the Dr. on that Monday AM.

Turns out I was fighting off the flu, and Thom had caught the flu. I'm thanking every diety out there that it did not go to my lungs, because I cannot fathom having to cough (more than I already did) with that incision.

The doctor got my pathology reports back--no cancer, for which I am also very grateful to aforementioned dieties, but I had adenomyosis (endometriosis of the actual uterus), uterine polyps, a cyst in my fallopian tube, and massive fibroids. She took out eight pounds of fibroids and uterus, and had to take one of my ovaries because it was entangled with everything.

I had to go the radiology place so they could take that lovely catheter and fill my bladder up with iodine to the point of pain so they could check it for leaks. (She points at the table which is waist high to me. "Care to hop up on the table?" Me: "No." Her: "Uhm, you need to get on the table." Me: "I'm not hopping anywhere. Help?")

The next day I got the catheter out and I was finally able to start walking around the neighborhood. (I had an aversion to wearing a bag of warm pee on my leg and then going out walking and sweating with it) I can assure you I couldn't stop grinning for the first day after that damned thing was out either.

So my staples are out, I'm peeing on my own. I just got cleared to drive and overdid it yesterday, and did too much again today.

So in short, I'm doing great! When I'm not tired from being an idiot and overdoing, my energy level is already better than pre-surgery. Doctor says that when my blood counts are all normal again, I will find that this was a life changing surgery. I think she's right.

Just got the hospital bill in. $42,531.42 is the going rate to have a total abdominal hysterectomy, FYI. That doesn't count the $647.00 for fixing the bladder or whatever my doctor's billing is going to be, or any of the other myriad of charges that I'm sure will filter in over the next few weeks.

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Had to spend an extra day.... [03 Oct 2012|05:37pm]
Fever of 100.3 last night. Now I have 100.7. Joy.
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well.. [02 Oct 2012|10:54am]
Did see the doctor today. I've got at least one more day in here. Plus during surgery my bladder was lacerated and I will have to wear this darn catheter for 10 days. Ugh. Also saw photos of my gigantor uterus and fibroids. Had many in there and they were all tied up in my blood supply. Freaky!
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and it's over... [01 Oct 2012|08:49pm]
[ mood | sore ]

I have not talked to Dr yet, but this is waht Thom posted on FB earlier today:

Just got a call from her Doctor that performed the surgery. She said that the top of the uterus was at the same height as her bellybutton and was stretched across to both sides of her pelvis. The surgery required her to cut the uterus onto smaller pieces to allow her to seal of each blood vessel supplying. While she was doing this she did lacerate her bladder and a urology surgeon was called into repair it. The Doctor did take a picture of the uterus as Irene had requested, so Irene doesn't get to keep the organ and immolate it at her convenience. She did have to Irene a unit of blood due to loss, but she is doing well and in recovery.

Drugs are good.

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A song for my uterus... [30 Sep 2012|11:04pm]
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Well, crap. [27 Sep 2012|09:57pm]
[ mood | annoyed ]

Dear Orlando Bloom:

Regarding today's picture in which you were working out in a gym in South Africa whilst shooing a movie, I can only say GAH!.

You're a cruel, cruel man. Here I am sitting with a uterus three days away from a total abdominal hysterectomy and you show up with your facial hair and your curls and muscles and your smile and my enlarged fibroided clot filled uterus starts seizing up like a car that hasn't had it's oil changed in 20,000 miles (Much like any car my mother drives). I mean, really? REALLY?

I mean, first you throw down the God Awful purple sweatpants:

I mean, those were enough to make my vagina rappel down my leg and run off to go run a craps table in Atlantic City so it would never have to contemplate you again.

Then you pull out the neon yellow jobbies:

Those were like the "FINISH HER" part of Mortal Kombat except it was on my libedo. And I was okay with that. Dwayne Johnson has been VERY accomodating with the smiles and muscles and such things.

But now you're back to work (and by work, I mean actual work, not photo ops with your wife). And Jesus, you're kind of hot again. And you're in a movie that is going to have lots of you nudity and love scenes and may actually let you show off the acting chops that no one else thinks you have but I've seen in "Ned Kelly" and the Director's Cut of "Kingdom of Heaven". And for a variety of medical reasons, I can't handle it. It's kind of painful, frankly.

So, in short: Orlando Bloom, FUCK YOU. DOUCHEBAG.

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