tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64020031360954942862024-03-05T05:27:13.175-05:00Anomaly of an Orange LifeMelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.comBlogger170125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-63312227034979697932016-10-11T22:18:00.003-04:002016-10-11T22:31:18.478-04:00Because I canI'm going to try to restart this thing again. <br />
<br />
I'm now a mom. And I'm as spacey as before, if not more so. He'll be 2 in December. Which means 22 months of making me fall in love every day while wondering if I will survive the next one. Seriously. Hand(s). Full.<br />
<br />
Plus I was just diagnosed with something fun and new - fibromyalgia. So let's try to navigate all that and restart my nonsensical word vomit. <br />
<br />
Some posts will be talking about just me. Some about my adorable husband clone (that's my son). And some I'll do a little throwback to how I got here. Ready? Go!MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-58468201939883287972012-01-06T13:53:00.002-05:002012-01-06T14:18:54.638-05:00Hello? HELLO? Is this thing still on?So what seems like a long time ago in a place far far away I started a blog. I felt I needed to say a lot of things and I felt like I wanted people to read them.<div><br /></div><div>And then life happened. In a different way than what I had anticipated. Things have been great, not so great. Down right awful. But - that's life. Or my life at least.</div><div><br /></div><div>And THEN suddenly, one day very recently I decided I needed to blog again. The problem? I don't have a "thing" I need to blog about. Before it was about my medical journey with my day to day life thrown in. But, thankfully, a majority of my major medical journey is hopefully over. </div><div><br /></div><div>Right now though I have something really big coming up soon. Like way sooner than I ever imagined. It always seemed like something that would happen in the future. The super distant future. A future I would laugh about with my friends as we enjoyed all of our awesome 20's.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, that's right. The dreaded 29.1. </div><div><br /></div><div>Some people *ahem* Miller *cough*cough* add letters onto the 29, but then I would truly forget what age I am when I got to like 29H. So after some debate I went with the number system. </div><div><br /></div><div>It seems like just yesterday I was telling my little itty bitty baby brother that when he was graduating high school and was 18 I would be this mysterious 29.1. And he would call me OLD and we would laugh because it was SO far away and would almost never happen for at least another eleventybillion years. And he's almost 18. Graduation is in June for him. And May brings the 29.1.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ok. I do have a point to all this besides lamenting about how fast time is flying and how nauseating it is making me. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am not big on resolutions, but I have been wanting to make some life changes lately. With this whole big life event coming up soon I've decided to take my friend Amanda's brilliant idea to break things down month by month and set some goals for myself. So each month I will posting new set of FIVE personal goals and at the end of each month of will write about how it's gone. I may even give some updates during, because I DO want to start blogging more. For real this time.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here goes *big DEEP sigh*</div><div>January 5th-February 5th</div><div>1. Eat out ONE time per week (drinks with the girls do not count as long as I don't order food)</div><div>2. Do one house related project per week (paint frames, fixing bathroom caulk, painting trim, cleaning out a room, etc)</div><div>3. Drink 64 oz of water every single day.</div><div>4. Keep a food journal for 5 days a week every week.</div><div>5. Scan 5 photos (as a minimum) 5 days a week every week.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ok, there it is. Notice I am doing a lot of things in 5's. I like the number 5. I like numbers. It's how I function - to count things out, to find a way to incorporate things via numbers. </div><div><br /></div><div>And yes, yesterday I DID drink 64oz of water and kept a food journal! Yay!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Wish me luck!</div><div><br /></div><div>*hugs and love*</div><div>mj</div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-9328201901738903842010-05-04T21:03:00.002-04:002010-05-04T21:10:56.344-04:00May the Fourth Be With YouI kept reading this today on facebook and had NO idea WHY people kept saying this. I mean, there is a fourth of EVERY month.<div><br /></div><div>Then my coworker said it and I was like "seriously, no one said that in April!!" He was like "right, but it's MAY... MAY the fourth be with you (odd, "are you really this stupid" look in my general direction)..."</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, yes I am.</div><div><br /></div><div>*hangs head in shame*</div><div><br /></div><div>This reminds me of this time I realized what the phrase "shut your mouth when you are talking to me" REALLY meant. I heard it when we saw "Talladega Nights" with a bunch of friends. It wasn't until a little over a YEAR later that someone said it to me (for the millionth time) that it somehow clicked and I blurted out... "wait, you CAN'T talk if your mouth is shut." No one realized I didn't get it because I giggled whenever I heard it. But I giggled because I thought it was stupid and didn't make sense.</div><div><br /></div><div>*le sigh*</div><div><br /></div><div>And THIS is how I consider starting my semi return to blogging. I will try to keep doing this once a week and no more than a two week break in between. But who am I kidding? It will probably be another month again. :-)</div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking of months, it is MAY.</div><div><br /></div><div>My birthday is in MAY. Which means... it's my BIRTHDAY MONTH!! Yayayay!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, I am that person.</div><div><br /></div><div>*hugs and kisses*</div><div>mj</div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-27171440116004697062010-04-17T22:46:00.002-04:002010-04-17T22:52:34.845-04:00Whatever Lola wants...Lola gets...<div><br /></div><div>And my new bike is named Lola. </div><div><br /></div><div>She is an ORANGE Felt Cafe 8 Deluxe.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.feltbicycles.com/Resources/ProductPhotos/Bikes/CAFE%208_L_ORANGE(1).jpg"><img src="http://www.feltbicycles.com/Resources/ProductPhotos/Bikes/CAFE%208_L_ORANGE(1).jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 288px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>There is a stock photo. I'll post more photos of her later. </div><div><br /></div><div>We went on an 11.5 mile ride today on the Rail Trail with Josh. She was FANTASTIC.</div><div><br /></div><div>In other bike related news, tomorrow is Josh's first race of the season. Wish him luck!!</div><div><br /></div><div>*hugs and kisses*</div><div>mj</div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-65966066427618626902010-03-28T19:42:00.004-04:002010-03-28T19:53:33.581-04:00Still alive.I promise. Just busy and trying to get all my life into a groove. Unfortunately for my readers, but fortunately for my "real" life, I have been busy and active. The weather has been mostly nice enough to be outside exercising and enjoying it. There has also been lots of work for me as well at the shop, and our house has been grossly neglected on the cleaning end.<div><br /></div><div>When I think I can handle some computer time without letting it get overwhelming I'll come back more regularly. Until then I leave you with this photo from me today. I was "dressing up" a bit for Easter with the in laws.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7-VSR4yhPiUaaeWKnQ3pOf9khLck5HzFWFX5lGeQaLI_csCGyBv9Pllf0ax8r_uJGTCDIkB_ktXh7d9BLnrgaB5OiEq9HJxhiLajmb-X-irMI6Z_9FPVSZa8cz1jhr7_N0vPOOyx/s1600/photo+(24).jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7-VSR4yhPiUaaeWKnQ3pOf9khLck5HzFWFX5lGeQaLI_csCGyBv9Pllf0ax8r_uJGTCDIkB_ktXh7d9BLnrgaB5OiEq9HJxhiLajmb-X-irMI6Z_9FPVSZa8cz1jhr7_N0vPOOyx/s320/photo+(24).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453835867481188066" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And here I am driving our BRAND NEW 2010 Mazda 3, 5-door, 6-speed. It is STICK people. I drove it for 30 minutes ish with several stops(lights and signs), merging on a highway, getting off a highway, passing cars and driving on back roads with only ONE problem. I popped the clutch pulling out from a stop sign on a hill. Josh told me he'd give me a B+ overall. WHOA.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh26UtDhY7WlfQ_h1DErxxgcTxBQT9FhLo7p9sV04zjBr4lb8NfRIN_Oik3m5rLZhK6bB5npEldEAqPNxcm4GLoSg-rdzKfxLURU0b8oGiHbC8zposQJkzKDiJZCzCdjnNll2QwWguu/s1600/photo+(23).jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh26UtDhY7WlfQ_h1DErxxgcTxBQT9FhLo7p9sV04zjBr4lb8NfRIN_Oik3m5rLZhK6bB5npEldEAqPNxcm4GLoSg-rdzKfxLURU0b8oGiHbC8zposQJkzKDiJZCzCdjnNll2QwWguu/s320/photo+(23).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453835863330472162" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 258px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I don't really drive stick EVER, so this is a HUGE accomplishment. What better time to learn than when you are 27 and have already been driving for 11 years right??</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*hugs and kisses*</div><div style="text-align: left;">mj</div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-2823707783644630302010-03-16T23:47:00.003-04:002010-03-17T00:10:29.580-04:00Learning to Ride a BikeNo not me. I know how to ride a bike. In fact I have owned several bikes. The first one I remember was pink with a pink banana seat with white hibiscus flowers and a white basket that had pink flowers on it. I put these little neon colored pieces of plastic on the spokes that clacked when I rode.<div><br /></div><div>Behind the seat was a raised metal bar that my Pap (grandfather) would hold onto while I rode. No training wheels for this girl. One day he just let go. I looked back and realized he was gone. I was so happy until I totally wasn't watching and rode right off the sidewalk and crashed. Good thing Pap was a great cheerleader and got me right back on the bike. It is such a great memory I will always cherish.</div><div><br /></div><div>A couple weekends ago we took our friend's daughter to <a href="http://www.thecycleworks.net/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Cycleworks</span></a> in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Wrightsville</span>, PA. She's almost big enough for one size bike, and a little too big for the size down. She rode the littler bike for a while because it had training wheels.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0rGyf6eLjTZluEl87PysM6-4KNhWYs_Dfk9ZSA9n5uWRBZSzrxReIdS42Joy-j7IdnM4zgBPfpAIdW029b3oge9naoLMKffC_jo8ie3SFCaV10uJSmPBXzs4Hp_i-eubno6OLOLx1/s1600-h/019.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0rGyf6eLjTZluEl87PysM6-4KNhWYs_Dfk9ZSA9n5uWRBZSzrxReIdS42Joy-j7IdnM4zgBPfpAIdW029b3oge9naoLMKffC_jo8ie3SFCaV10uJSmPBXzs4Hp_i-eubno6OLOLx1/s320/019.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449447328544041970" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmLCvVABVC67nPbZprgE5DXpehzxyGojoaXUA62sn9UZuU8sGIG4eE_SJDY8po6qQi7c2WNBaKKYWtorbHLOuqbhxhfOGaOKgdJH9QC4-HZr4p6Ozz0UNwibH51-G6mK8GlmYovNG/s1600-h/028.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmLCvVABVC67nPbZprgE5DXpehzxyGojoaXUA62sn9UZuU8sGIG4eE_SJDY8po6qQi7c2WNBaKKYWtorbHLOuqbhxhfOGaOKgdJH9QC4-HZr4p6Ozz0UNwibH51-G6mK8GlmYovNG/s320/028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449447339245495714" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">She leans a little to the side, but she's new. She'll get the hang of it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Unfortunately although she liked the little purple bike, it wouldn't have lasted long as she would have outgrown it too quickly.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Luckily they had a used bike in the next size up that was in the basement. No training wheels on that one, so she needed daddy's help.</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOz8Q64GhU9IEw7_bkPL7YqV9-KyiqggJQZ4BQkTVUcqKiPc79EJNzzaanQB4CMvIvgkO1KS2JArajoBdIess1JRMk4OKMXu-BwpeAi3Q6NpFWKpPM4n0onbjPM8tM6Djx0J2LDSDl/s1600-h/031.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOz8Q64GhU9IEw7_bkPL7YqV9-KyiqggJQZ4BQkTVUcqKiPc79EJNzzaanQB4CMvIvgkO1KS2JArajoBdIess1JRMk4OKMXu-BwpeAi3Q6NpFWKpPM4n0onbjPM8tM6Djx0J2LDSDl/s320/031.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449447345761392018" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a> Still got that lean. :-)</div><div><br /></div><div>She was a little overwhelmed with all the grown ups talking so I grabbed her and we went to the front of the store to have a little alone girl talk. Very maturely we discussed the two bikes. Did she like the purple one because of the color and how it rode, or because it had training wheels? Or was she <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ok</span> with the white and pink bike, but just wasn't comfortable because of the lack of training wheels that could be put on.</div><div><br /></div><div>After some very adult discussions (she's only 5) and some snuggling, we called her mom up to talk about our decision. She then called daddy and Josh up to let them all know. We had decided that the pink and white bigger bike was what she wanted, but she wanted training wheels. Smart girl. </div><div><br /></div><div>Well luckily, not only did they have some training wheels for the used bike, BUT they also had a brand new bike that was the same (just a year newer). <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Hmmm</span>. Mommy and daddy were looking for a bike for her grandmother's house too. After some discussions with the bike guys, they agreed to lower the price on both if they bought both bikes. </div><div><br /></div><div>So our little goober got a brand new bike for her parent's house and the same bike in the used version for her grandparent's house!! </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9RNdnQtyX9A7KDPfQZEDndN4wHlKRSvyh9hdxWNqcn7_HJmdScbD9HKGlJm0Z679qX0bjXbThG9BXRxp74gmuxXhW2VebLXSJEFhcEzAHoIctMda7q5JdCwHjXvU-u-5bLmot2gA2/s1600-h/033.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9RNdnQtyX9A7KDPfQZEDndN4wHlKRSvyh9hdxWNqcn7_HJmdScbD9HKGlJm0Z679qX0bjXbThG9BXRxp74gmuxXhW2VebLXSJEFhcEzAHoIctMda7q5JdCwHjXvU-u-5bLmot2gA2/s320/033.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449447352236414738" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">The newer bike is in the foreground. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I only hope we can create some fun memories for her when she's older that she will look back on fondly as I do mine.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Love you my little goober.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*hugs and kisses*</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">mj</span></div></div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-71257805719384933942010-03-16T21:57:00.006-04:002010-03-17T00:11:21.569-04:00Gaper Day 2010Say what? A "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">gaper</span>" according to <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/">urban dictionary</a> is<div>1. <span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 20px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:11px;">A <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">gaper</span> is a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">skiier</span> or snowboarder who is completely clueless. Usually <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">distiungished</span> by their bright colored clothes and a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">gaper</span> gap, the gap between goggles and a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">helment</span>/hat. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Gapers</span> also do the "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Gaper</span> Tuck" which is an attempt at being a ski racer by tucking, however, it is done incorrectly with the poles sticking straight up like thunderbolts and lighting, very very <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">frightning</span>! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Gapers</span> also sit at the bottom of jumps and try and go big off table tops in the park.</span></div><div>or</div><div>2. <span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 20px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:11px;">A skier or snowboarder who sucks and is usually spotted wearing clothing from 1983, but other clothing styles for them do exist. A dead giveaway of a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">gaper</span> is when their pants are tucked into their boots and the famous "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Gaper</span> Gap" (a gap between the helmet/hat and the goggles). <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Gapers</span> sometimes temporarily inhabit the entrance to a terrain park. They will sit on their ass for a good 5-10 minutes talking about what they are going to do of a that "jump" or "rail" while everyone behind them goes before them and they stare at them with their mouth gaped open. Once they finally decide to leave their home at the entrance of the terrain park, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">gaper</span> will eventually decide to either roll over the jump and mess up all the lips, or they will try and actually hit the jump. If this occurs, they generally end up coming up half way short of the landing on their ass and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">yardsale</span>, while the person behind them runs them over and/or yells at them. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Gapers</span> may also make turns or snowplow down green runs and sometime try to act cool by crouching and sticking their ski poles in the air but are totally <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">oblivioius</span> to the fact that they look even more stupid than they previously were. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Gapers</span> often find themselves on the top of a black diamond run because they are <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">dumbasses</span> and can't read a map. When they approach the run, they may either turn around, stare at it, sit down on the top of it, or just simply walk down the side of it. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Gapers</span> often have trouble getting on and off lifts and the lift operator gets really frustrated with them because he is required to stop the lift. A fun game to play while skiing or riding behind a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">gaper</span> is called "Follow the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Gaper</span>". The game is played by following the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">gaper's</span> path and looking as bad as they are. The game will usually last until they identify your presence, however it is possible to extend the game even past this point.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Now this has nothing to do with the above, but if you don't use urban dictionary to find slang terms, then you are TOTALLY missing out. It has helped me find the true meaning of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">supermaning</span> that hoe, and other such sexual references in songs. It's hysterical!</div><div><br /></div><div>So back to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">gaper</span> day. A group of friends has chosen a day at a local ski mountain and decided to dress in 80's gear, drink beer and have a great time. Who wouldn't want to join?? Unfortunately we missed it last year due to my surgeries, but we were all ready this year.</div><div><br /></div><div>I raided my mom's closet for our old ski gear (yes, from the 80's, yes she still has it), raided my own closet for some awesome clothing I own (yes, from the 80's and YES *I* still have it), raided a good friend's closet and off we went.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKjGpduYe4QsTKO384-gdgOLxALTUPXN836XYUpVwqb3UBObjRL4BDq94eNK9JBFvvTMu-Hbc6fY4ecZmCuVJW1xd0rEE0zEEpsq4qS5FW_nLQZcfN_shLIobIy4-g-sr7Ez7XhGX-/s1600-h/083.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKjGpduYe4QsTKO384-gdgOLxALTUPXN836XYUpVwqb3UBObjRL4BDq94eNK9JBFvvTMu-Hbc6fY4ecZmCuVJW1xd0rEE0zEEpsq4qS5FW_nLQZcfN_shLIobIy4-g-sr7Ez7XhGX-/s320/083.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449419576056869330" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh yes, here we are. I rocked my mom's old orange snow outfit, and Josh had our friend Amanda's jacket that had REMOVABLE sleeves. Whoa. </div><div><br /></div><div>Of course we ran into some old college friend's of Josh. His old rugby teammates. Ha. We were like "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">ummm</span>, we don't normally dress like this, but we are with a group..." Awkward!! Oh well. </div><div><br /></div><div>I kind of feel like the photos will speak for themselves.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPavAm_hYzWhEvzrh2xhYPX4j1wcaFStXXAQI8BbGzkFVCJjC56biwD-9QrqEV7xCFzbcigCwbCStzqKoG4lp29lwLcWd1p2pUCwTd-TVOg7q6XjebZCqxHQpZ_CUhO6pK_OoWft7T/s1600-h/012.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPavAm_hYzWhEvzrh2xhYPX4j1wcaFStXXAQI8BbGzkFVCJjC56biwD-9QrqEV7xCFzbcigCwbCStzqKoG4lp29lwLcWd1p2pUCwTd-TVOg7q6XjebZCqxHQpZ_CUhO6pK_OoWft7T/s320/012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449425455064945138" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSigYVoHKH_qZQOc-LTs5iGVHSNu1Xsm_d4vbQqPCiOO8CIc2T3G0_py4NZzb_KqQ96LkLC4bV21v0Ij2gAAzWJgz25Rqf_-LjnUA25DGVCJkHhF9vxCSKoza1l_PyTpGpeYzIyES4/s1600-h/032.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSigYVoHKH_qZQOc-LTs5iGVHSNu1Xsm_d4vbQqPCiOO8CIc2T3G0_py4NZzb_KqQ96LkLC4bV21v0Ij2gAAzWJgz25Rqf_-LjnUA25DGVCJkHhF9vxCSKoza1l_PyTpGpeYzIyES4/s320/032.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449425470979549554" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsZtpblsrminaIHNoF8y716LaU8GbWmwh7raj1XPy-CdA9OVYOvZtds70AHMd66tZ5hfBJwcjSXoDOR7HySf7QfB1kPJV7yMhVOnC2coLjbiCzgX4XX7G3QCndiFaHVH5jTKro0XN/s1600-h/033.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsZtpblsrminaIHNoF8y716LaU8GbWmwh7raj1XPy-CdA9OVYOvZtds70AHMd66tZ5hfBJwcjSXoDOR7HySf7QfB1kPJV7yMhVOnC2coLjbiCzgX4XX7G3QCndiFaHVH5jTKro0XN/s320/033.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449425477803555026" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The jacket on my friend <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Kandice</span> (the upper left photo, center girl) was my jacket in the 80's. The orange one I am wearing was my mom's whole outfit. :-)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_2jvDqQaQhiKr3aagFqmnH4QCOJiAyUTCL-17tWRsSf0pvlP6nuXCLHki6r1MekV9BQAWntMuDBX2I7Vq9xwi9tmWdApxn4o03gFIERNw93T1poHEzMzLo2GTJj9al-A_KAXdwusH/s1600-h/028.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_2jvDqQaQhiKr3aagFqmnH4QCOJiAyUTCL-17tWRsSf0pvlP6nuXCLHki6r1MekV9BQAWntMuDBX2I7Vq9xwi9tmWdApxn4o03gFIERNw93T1poHEzMzLo2GTJj9al-A_KAXdwusH/s320/028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449425464572576722" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJ_IKKAxaKBd5pLBqBo7CR2zF6IxYzYtX5Zyj76g63iEBPPZo4vbqTP0kd-4AJeIdgjhCtcb_FfxQLTaKTWyvshWlCjP806ioD7ZXcnNoWFh65FN0tmrrsUtTvqbtnc3zEc9yb4SW/s1600-h/082.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJ_IKKAxaKBd5pLBqBo7CR2zF6IxYzYtX5Zyj76g63iEBPPZo4vbqTP0kd-4AJeIdgjhCtcb_FfxQLTaKTWyvshWlCjP806ioD7ZXcnNoWFh65FN0tmrrsUtTvqbtnc3zEc9yb4SW/s320/082.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449425825645413650" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">The boys did a shirtless run. Oh yes, they all went down the mountain together like this.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And for the best moment of the day.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7hoU9HmkfiVGSzjlJkUMmji5nd6FS5QzUo-a9_gPsVA6c01Jq_8JkAWOvbRmdR3iVlMe6zzGebH8SDTSyQnITK37L4W0ZoSKgo3nTmz8lDwGW_aH82C2c71gkUHyuMixXWGz9RiD/s1600-h/056.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7hoU9HmkfiVGSzjlJkUMmji5nd6FS5QzUo-a9_gPsVA6c01Jq_8JkAWOvbRmdR3iVlMe6zzGebH8SDTSyQnITK37L4W0ZoSKgo3nTmz8lDwGW_aH82C2c71gkUHyuMixXWGz9RiD/s320/056.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449425486006429650" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">On the right, our friend. On the left, an unsuspecting mountain patron wearing the EXACT one piece our friend had purchased last year on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">ebay</span>. When he approached her, she was like "I've had this outfit for 30 years!" Radically AWESOME huh?? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This was how we spent Saturday March 6, 2010.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*hugs and kisses*</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">mj</span></div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-75077547242451437892010-03-08T17:39:00.002-05:002010-03-08T17:51:03.218-05:00He turned 16 todayMy "little" brother that is. <div><br /></div><div>Such an amazing kid.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyM-eci9fFTptpL5Hn1lKDvIHzJ-LgUPZZs07L1PvjzyUjX0v_vxy_qmNjmGYXOdoTjIPT186USFQ7PeYnGsPESuoLWdFTQLkmj49jxXG2W2184t354T4vb7YNuotPaTwDdkDaqDLQ/s1600-h/223.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyM-eci9fFTptpL5Hn1lKDvIHzJ-LgUPZZs07L1PvjzyUjX0v_vxy_qmNjmGYXOdoTjIPT186USFQ7PeYnGsPESuoLWdFTQLkmj49jxXG2W2184t354T4vb7YNuotPaTwDdkDaqDLQ/s320/223.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446398599958265362" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Here we are in our "christmas pj's" this year. He doesn't look so little does he?</div><div><br /></div><div>Love him a lot and super proud of him. *big smile*</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy 16th Birthday to my "little" brother. Drive safe and don't speed like mom does. Lol.</div><div><br /></div><div>*hugs and kisses*</div><div>mj</div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-47944369728238902422010-03-03T19:10:00.000-05:002010-03-03T21:44:33.258-05:00Photos from My Life BreakFebruary 15-21<br /><br />Usually my parent's house has snow even when we don't. They are about 2<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ish</span> hours north of us and in the mountains. This time though they missed BOTH of the big storms that we'd had. So when I got home the ground was mainly bare of all snow. Weird.<div><br /></div><div>Monday night though (my first night there) look what I saw!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhISxReRw-si-iiMbsrsW4qaSl6OSdCrJzXJ4noSc-AwoG5yzuwY2YpTL8wPqca3juPqy5-Jv-mSJonBF2zS9zl1e6klQq1md9-lrSKhAU-eD0CdqcecI47bfVTW8C7eUFD_gl1TWW/s1600-h/photo+(15).jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhISxReRw-si-iiMbsrsW4qaSl6OSdCrJzXJ4noSc-AwoG5yzuwY2YpTL8wPqca3juPqy5-Jv-mSJonBF2zS9zl1e6klQq1md9-lrSKhAU-eD0CdqcecI47bfVTW8C7eUFD_gl1TWW/s320/photo+(15).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443823659444036002" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Apparently I brought it with me!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Other notable photos that week. I sent this one to Josh and told him I bought a new hat.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhchkTLXJUqjDea8IOHsY6TI4ThCNnIlqnMOj38cTrAaiy5INWrKep_wof1VE6kaNHjTRGvP6QdDL4CRRXfrTATDrvmnOVai3TJbA9VATF6OXUVl-crmV3FaiFOhgyo89L-JaWN45DA/s1600-h/photo+(16).jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhchkTLXJUqjDea8IOHsY6TI4ThCNnIlqnMOj38cTrAaiy5INWrKep_wof1VE6kaNHjTRGvP6QdDL4CRRXfrTATDrvmnOVai3TJbA9VATF6OXUVl-crmV3FaiFOhgyo89L-JaWN45DA/s320/photo+(16).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443823665023485106" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a> He was not amused. Such a weirdo. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Lol</span>.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Mom and I were playing dress up while shopping obviously. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I also found these <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOc9wBAoWOS_LBuSAPD4DD1pDjq5eRwxRqM_8hFjnD9TpkfTZRwgo5Et9jgQS3NLbDcVue-xKjw03naLE_50p9juOHBwKPWXCualuxi2Y7Oy4lvRwME4dQhA3uIBwrTJH_CE2ZCBC/s1600-h/photo+(17).jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOc9wBAoWOS_LBuSAPD4DD1pDjq5eRwxRqM_8hFjnD9TpkfTZRwgo5Et9jgQS3NLbDcVue-xKjw03naLE_50p9juOHBwKPWXCualuxi2Y7Oy4lvRwME4dQhA3uIBwrTJH_CE2ZCBC/s320/photo+(17).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443823668378546658" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Walmart</span>.</div><div style="text-align: left;">They are super yummy and not at all gross like people think. Mainly peanut butter flavored with just a hint of strawberry, everyone I've forced to try them love them. SUPER addictive.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I did try to get a photo of it actually snowing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN4Qu3A3PiOUz8cSuQ84EntcU5smYRTfCIFanN5-DFOKnRl_PQVUYTM7eSDz2_KxMSvdwy2BH6DgDnDadc7C970x6y905v5dLFMKd5TJ6DmAhNd5RZQQ5rFIEoLehy1sTcrNKzOiM5/s1600-h/014.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN4Qu3A3PiOUz8cSuQ84EntcU5smYRTfCIFanN5-DFOKnRl_PQVUYTM7eSDz2_KxMSvdwy2BH6DgDnDadc7C970x6y905v5dLFMKd5TJ6DmAhNd5RZQQ5rFIEoLehy1sTcrNKzOiM5/s320/014.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443826723149088146" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">But with screens in all the windows it didn't turn out too well.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And here is a photo of Sassy watching the snow and waiting for her two boyfriends to come visit.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihKvU7HDPrChpcqCkDGeYayXVgqHdjfAN5yaoaQNt1k8YxjtJfX3gTkDwRIYtz_dxNhlQe5ZhyphenhyphenF7XYikyAs5gFONMDJGVykxlx3K9J3ZqAa26cS83pY3rE_oCdQV9mLfFuaOWtkDF3/s1600-h/017.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihKvU7HDPrChpcqCkDGeYayXVgqHdjfAN5yaoaQNt1k8YxjtJfX3gTkDwRIYtz_dxNhlQe5ZhyphenhyphenF7XYikyAs5gFONMDJGVykxlx3K9J3ZqAa26cS83pY3rE_oCdQV9mLfFuaOWtkDF3/s320/017.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443826723890715250" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">They evaded me all week. I think she told them I was mean or something because the evening after I left they showed up. Ugh.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I got home on Friday and we had a party to attend. It was a fondue and game night at our friend's house and it was SO MUCH FUN. Josh was super sleep deprived and it made him absolutely hilarious. Next post will discuss Josh's sleep deprivation. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Lol</span>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Saturday was a lazy day. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sunday I was back up near my parent's house. Unfortunately, my family couldn't meet me. I had gone up with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Kandice</span> to pick up a puppy. Long story, but the puppy is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Kandice's</span> new puppy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Masi</span> (MAY-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">cee</span>)'s sister. Did you get all that?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S4xbkdoxYsI/AAAAAAAAHxE/-mTcLldVBTA/s1600-h/photo+(20).jpg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S4xbkdoxYsI/AAAAAAAAHxE/-mTcLldVBTA/s320/photo+(20).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443826731573142210" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Here is the former Lucy Lou. Her new owner's renamed her.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Kandice</span> and I did get to eat lunch at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Wegmans</span> with her parents. Oh I love <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><a href="http://www.wegmans.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/HomepageView?storeId=10052&catalogId=10002&langId=-1">Wegmans</a></span>. We also grabbed some premade sushi for when we got home for dinner. And when we stopped at Sheetz I found some coconut M&M's (Can you tell I'm on a chocolate kick lately?? - Easter is around the corner!) that I shared for dessert. Lol.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So that is all for now about that week. Can't wait to tell you what Josh was doing while I was gone!!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*hugs and kisses*</div><div style="text-align: left;">mj</div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-8755086510983666052010-02-28T21:36:00.002-05:002010-02-28T21:47:17.761-05:00Valentine's Day 2010<div>We had to kind of skip Valentine's Day <a href="http://anomalyofanorangelife.blogspot.com/2009/02/valetines-day-2009-and-day-12-post-op.html">last year</a> because I was being discharged from the hospital. I did get flowers and a funny card though.</div><div><br /></div><div>And yes I realize it is an overly commercialized day. It is also the day Josh and I started "dating" 8 years ago - or as I like to say it "the day we decided to stop having sex with any other people." Lol. </div><div><br /></div><div>All I asked for this year was a bacon, egg and cheese mcgriddle (I even had a coupon!)</div><div><br /></div><div>This is what I woke up to!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S4sorK5lCfI/AAAAAAAAHvs/NisPeGfN6mM/s1600-h/photo+(13).jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S4sorK5lCfI/AAAAAAAAHvs/NisPeGfN6mM/s320/photo+(13).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443489296732719602" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Yum! I hadn't had McDonald's in well over a month or more!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When I went downstairs I was surprised to find these.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHX4m18bPI6XE1MWUpdk-4KNS_WpT15nlr2kBzdXMiEdveJl_pTDRCA6FWcDB4nRzYarOFd7oFJmfDk2i0uT1wUtKGyHha4OCSH1wEOfc3rPsx2YhJe7-21yHiNtkpCvpTTZuqcNi/s1600-h/006.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHX4m18bPI6XE1MWUpdk-4KNS_WpT15nlr2kBzdXMiEdveJl_pTDRCA6FWcDB4nRzYarOFd7oFJmfDk2i0uT1wUtKGyHha4OCSH1wEOfc3rPsx2YhJe7-21yHiNtkpCvpTTZuqcNi/s320/006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443489299067245714" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Even though I said no card or flowers. They are beautiful though!</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0m-4_slpddfB_reDDVbzvzBWCGAyOxRnsXzJB96ZGw3WQjBR3BRMnCG4zSgh0EJ_L4cv8H15q0sduq4e_UOWWHmhsdRtKW6nxN81DnhlrNoAkzn2vjpsM9Lc1JktdNekpJjO7vaWd/s1600-h/011.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0m-4_slpddfB_reDDVbzvzBWCGAyOxRnsXzJB96ZGw3WQjBR3BRMnCG4zSgh0EJ_L4cv8H15q0sduq4e_UOWWHmhsdRtKW6nxN81DnhlrNoAkzn2vjpsM9Lc1JktdNekpJjO7vaWd/s320/011.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443489311011294210" /></a><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0m-4_slpddfB_reDDVbzvzBWCGAyOxRnsXzJB96ZGw3WQjBR3BRMnCG4zSgh0EJ_L4cv8H15q0sduq4e_UOWWHmhsdRtKW6nxN81DnhlrNoAkzn2vjpsM9Lc1JktdNekpJjO7vaWd/s1600-h/011.JPG"></a>Later that day we did our usual celebration type thing - a mom and pop sub place. </div><div><br /></div><div>This time we placed our order at Jim and Nena's in Hallam, ran down to Mack's ice cream for some of their amazing cookies and cream ice cream, picked up our food that was ready and headed home to snuggle, watch movies and eat. </div><div><br /></div><div>I love spending any day like that.</div><div><br /></div><div>*hugs and kisses*</div><div>mj<br /></div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-8398687730273391922010-02-28T20:43:00.002-05:002010-02-28T20:54:21.958-05:00February 11, 2010 Dr. P Follow upMore playing catch up!<div><br /></div><div>Thoughts still all over the place.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thursday February 11th I had my one month follow up with Dr. P. It went ok. Basically I have to lose weight or at least maintain what I have, but be more active. Supposedly I will be in pain for a while and I just have to work through it. If I don't do something because it is painful, I'll just keep moving backwards and not forwards. (Glad I'd already <a href="http://anomalyofanorangelife.blogspot.com/2010/02/brief-lull-in-snow.html">seen SK</a> who helped me out with the pain issue. She really is my FAVORITE doctor EVER!!)</div><div><br /></div><div>They also couldn't schedule my follow up 3 month CAT scan because of the snow the two days before. I did get a phone call the following Monday that my CAT scan will be Monday April 5th. Super. Can't wait. Metallic taste and feeling like I am peeing myself. Awesome right?</div><div><br /></div><div>Then another follow up with Dr. P after that. If they don't see anything then I'll have another follow up CAT scan 3 months from the first one. Thank you insurance. Thank you a whole lot. I am awfully expensive! </div><div><br /></div><div>Here are a few photos of the doctor's office parking lot.</div><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyvymQmmZyRKhtN34Bd7WU2UFdafkk-T8_rtH9Ek8aAmrxxa8PJjmU9uWdcs2JRaDLkQiahB_EtaOWO6DbmGtrQ19ronCMU_6xcFctL2Lb8_76GMPyB175BX6Xro8nULVQZqtkxTc/s1600-h/004.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyvymQmmZyRKhtN34Bd7WU2UFdafkk-T8_rtH9Ek8aAmrxxa8PJjmU9uWdcs2JRaDLkQiahB_EtaOWO6DbmGtrQ19ronCMU_6xcFctL2Lb8_76GMPyB175BX6Xro8nULVQZqtkxTc/s320/004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443469888104152754" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyvymQmmZyRKhtN34Bd7WU2UFdafkk-T8_rtH9Ek8aAmrxxa8PJjmU9uWdcs2JRaDLkQiahB_EtaOWO6DbmGtrQ19ronCMU_6xcFctL2Lb8_76GMPyB175BX6Xro8nULVQZqtkxTc/s1600-h/004.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJypq9MDFJbcqlMafNvmLk9BHM-6kg3eGdynpS7KPr8muHTuDjqmG51fNj4S-bkim1vYVhQqEtVHziYHDyMPCmUOOpBfoG1eWlL_wYDZCXYRuwyfu1uBSpiiGDqrHcCJwPsUGx50ph/s1600-h/001.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJypq9MDFJbcqlMafNvmLk9BHM-6kg3eGdynpS7KPr8muHTuDjqmG51fNj4S-bkim1vYVhQqEtVHziYHDyMPCmUOOpBfoG1eWlL_wYDZCXYRuwyfu1uBSpiiGDqrHcCJwPsUGx50ph/s320/001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443469881123677010" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*hugs and kisses* </div><div style="text-align: left;">mj</div></div></div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-16547538757795761262010-02-28T11:39:00.005-05:002010-02-28T20:53:59.599-05:00February 13, 2010I realize this is a little late. Well only 10 days really. I've started a whole slew of posts about topics I WANT to write about, but I just don't have the brain energy to complete my thoughts. Even now I'm struggling to get my mind to convey to my fingers what to exactly type out.<div><br /></div><div>So... whatever. You get the point. I've got a lot going on in my brain and it's just too congested to get out. Back to topic though.</div><div><br /></div><div>This post goes along with why I blog in the first place. I used to write in journals a long time ago, and I enjoyed going back and reading what was going on in my life, how I was dealing with these things, what I was thinking while going though them, etc.</div><div><br /></div><div>Most of the following was written the day it happened. I just cleaned it up a little and expressed some feelings better.</div><div><br /></div><div>One year ago on February 13, 2009 I went in for my first surgery ever. I was excited and nervous. I was unemployed and looking forward to moving forward with my physical health. I was thankful that all those years I suffered I wasn't actually crazy and there was something wrong, but fixable. In other words, one year ago I was in a totally different mindset - hopeful and positive.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now though. Oh now. Now, I am 1 month post op of my THIRD surgery. My attitude has changed dramatically. I am not nearly as positive. I think I've expressed what is going on in my head quite well so far. My motivation is kind of nil. I know it sounds pessimistic, but I really do feel like this isn't over. Something still feels... wrong. </div><div><br /></div><div>Part of this probably has something to do with the fact I didn't realize anything was wrong in the first place. Like how I didn't realize a whole organ was hanging out in the WRONG area of my body. Every doctor, nurse, secretary and technician were amazed that I had NO symptoms and wasn't aware something was amiss. That's frustrating to realize that I really don't know my body as well as I thought. </div><div><br /></div><div>In conclusion of my post 1 year - things are up in the air. Hopefully I'm not too hypochondrial and can move past this. I am not much of a past dweller and this should get me through these feelings of being downtrodden much faster.</div><div><br /></div><div>*hugs and kisses*</div><div>mj</div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-81783332167964498492010-02-23T20:37:00.002-05:002010-02-23T21:05:36.637-05:00Seriously?? WARNING: BATHROOM RELATEDAGAIN.<div><br /></div><div>Remember I keep saying this blog contains Too Much Information. And here is another little tidbit to attest to that.</div><div><br /></div><div>So for about 4 days now I have had diarrhea. Yes it hurts again at this point. No I don't know why besides MY DIGESTIVE SYSTEM HATES ME. Hates. A lot. Hates. Anyway, I am just setting you up for another fun public restroom story. </div><div><br /></div><div>Josh and I decided to go to dinner tonight. We did. Then we went to Bed Bath and Beyond because for the first time in those 4 days I didn't feel like I had to hit the bathroom IMMEDIATELY after eating. I was excited! Whatever. Josh then mentions how he would like to look at some iPhone paraphernalia at Best Buy since he gets his in MARCH. Countdown is somewhere around T-20 days. Work is paying for it, hence the waiting. </div><div><br /></div><div>We look at iPhone stuff, we look at LED tv's (OMG I totally want one. The color is so BRIGHT and pretty!), we looked at cameras, we looked at printers and then it hit. Ugh. Seriously?? Of COURSE I am on the other side of the store.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I do my poop waddle to the bathrooms. I look at the one directly in front of me and it says "men" (this is important - trust me), so I duck in the one to my left NOT looking at the sign. For the second public restroom issue, the bathroom is CLEAR!! No one in it. Yay!!</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll spare you the super gross details, but suffice it to say someone comes in before I'm finished. Singing. It's a DUDE!! Like a male dude. Like with a penis (I assume). </div><div><br /></div><div>Holy SH!T literally!! I totally freeze. Did I walk into the wrong restroom?? Did I totally not pay attention to the sign?? There aren't urinals in here. This shouldn't be a guys restroom, but is it?? What is going on??</div><div><br /></div><div>Dude sings his way into the handicapped stall, locks the door, sits down and starts farting. Then pooping. Again? AGAIN?? HOW does this keep happening? </div><div><br /></div><div>I finish up very quickly, grab my stuff, spring out of the stall, and try to wash my hands while keeping an eye on that handicap stall door praying to a MUCH higher power not to let it open. While doing so another WOMAN walks in. What do I say? "Ummmm, there is a dude in the end stall, watch out?" Then he would hear me. Then we would both be embarrassed. Nope, I just ran. </div><div><br /></div><div>I find Josh and tell him the whole story and he proceeds to laugh at me. We tried waiting and watching to see the guy (I saw his shoes), but after 5 minutes I decided it was better to just leave. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am done shopping after eating. Done. *sigh*</div><div><br /></div><div>*hugs and kisses*</div><div>mj</div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-40693080299403127932010-02-19T17:25:00.002-05:002010-02-19T17:28:55.269-05:00Another life breakI went to my parent's house to visit my mom for the week while my dad and brother were away for the week.<div><br /></div><div>Yay for some much needed girl time. I guess it should be "mother/daughter" time, but we aren't too mother/dautherly. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'll be back on Monday. Maybe sooner.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have Valentine's photos, photos of my SURPRISE from the husband (I LOVE PAINT!!), and other stuff. Something to look forward to.</div><div><br /></div><div>*hugs and kisses*</div><div>mj</div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-58204601888059437792010-02-12T22:07:00.005-05:002010-02-12T22:52:19.743-05:00SNOW Ice CreamWe have somewhere around 40+" of snow. It is seriously crazy around here. There isn't enough room to put it all! <div><br /></div><div>Thanks to a lovely neighbor who watched a newscast, then posted on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">facebook</span>, which then reminded me of something I did in childhood. </div><div><br /></div><div>Snow Ice Cream. You will need clean snow. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now I realize "clean" can be a relative term. You see when I was little my mom made me snow ice cream. Then in 5<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span> grade my science teacher taught us all about ACID RAIN. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">OMG</span>. NO more snow ice cream for me!! Never! It would KILL me!!</div><div><br /></div><div>This many years later and I've learned that what doesn't kill me consumption wise only preserves my organs for my plan to live forever.</div><div><br /></div><div>So BRING ON the ACID!! </div><div><br /></div><div>Back to my original "recipe."</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">You'll need milk, sugar and vanilla on hand.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWynmEU2mRNeRQetBvFKiNpXExlE5F6LbnBL0528AEX3MAN49fH9qHubDnLv5G4gj3c9hn3FmCO0DFaejf_AgaA3oqjWVeQo9Mu1qQ-WOv-NcR0wdXJsusv68c49nuOEdCZ2HiyNFm/s1600-h/025.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWynmEU2mRNeRQetBvFKiNpXExlE5F6LbnBL0528AEX3MAN49fH9qHubDnLv5G4gj3c9hn3FmCO0DFaejf_AgaA3oqjWVeQo9Mu1qQ-WOv-NcR0wdXJsusv68c49nuOEdCZ2HiyNFm/s320/025.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437564025264618450" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Mix 1 cup milk, 1/2 cup sugar and 1 tsp of vanilla. Whisk.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWynmEU2mRNeRQetBvFKiNpXExlE5F6LbnBL0528AEX3MAN49fH9qHubDnLv5G4gj3c9hn3FmCO0DFaejf_AgaA3oqjWVeQo9Mu1qQ-WOv-NcR0wdXJsusv68c49nuOEdCZ2HiyNFm/s1600-h/025.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3Ybqs_sNdI/AAAAAAAAHt0/M0K2lX9uqxM/s1600-h/026.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3Ybqs_sNdI/AAAAAAAAHt0/M0K2lX9uqxM/s320/026.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437564020543206866" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Send your husband out into the cold to collect your snow. Good husband. *kisses*</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3Ybqs_sNdI/AAAAAAAAHt0/M0K2lX9uqxM/s1600-h/026.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95nYyrrsZDYHJ2Fc6a1QHc_jz5jHNoc6XcxPax6Lhe1_wEL8lz1H-O95EmUkkfF42NrkM3Rjw9GiwbnOXuKnLmtP_ot35xXg8sBiVGzrcYcS0leQwhD6d0ZYaJJ9lsGT88KVAx6p4/s1600-h/028.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95nYyrrsZDYHJ2Fc6a1QHc_jz5jHNoc6XcxPax6Lhe1_wEL8lz1H-O95EmUkkfF42NrkM3Rjw9GiwbnOXuKnLmtP_ot35xXg8sBiVGzrcYcS0leQwhD6d0ZYaJJ9lsGT88KVAx6p4/s320/028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437564009740128850" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Fresh "clean" snow. Up to the door so he didn't have to really go anywhere for it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95nYyrrsZDYHJ2Fc6a1QHc_jz5jHNoc6XcxPax6Lhe1_wEL8lz1H-O95EmUkkfF42NrkM3Rjw9GiwbnOXuKnLmtP_ot35xXg8sBiVGzrcYcS0leQwhD6d0ZYaJJ9lsGT88KVAx6p4/s1600-h/028.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7gAm8NH1KjTezXMS2TYKBlGX4MN7pRTYTm2dzIyKL8KIA0AHFukAcyv4Nu6nd2gZeecwklSZzNUlqVBBWT7I0Ybt0KcuCdvew6I9NqILVYXmlgfhZGL6fIkCClQ3cKAArKncXphVq/s1600-h/029.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7gAm8NH1KjTezXMS2TYKBlGX4MN7pRTYTm2dzIyKL8KIA0AHFukAcyv4Nu6nd2gZeecwklSZzNUlqVBBWT7I0Ybt0KcuCdvew6I9NqILVYXmlgfhZGL6fIkCClQ3cKAArKncXphVq/s320/029.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437564006515811042" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">All the ingredients.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7gAm8NH1KjTezXMS2TYKBlGX4MN7pRTYTm2dzIyKL8KIA0AHFukAcyv4Nu6nd2gZeecwklSZzNUlqVBBWT7I0Ybt0KcuCdvew6I9NqILVYXmlgfhZGL6fIkCClQ3cKAArKncXphVq/s1600-h/029.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5NJAM5K7uoa5xXq0rpWJ0Gq1cwiCe_bIS-x31xGaySV5MjdQE17n3ojbZwTA5-h3dhWzcR4xk68W0wABL6t9Rez51EMskErISGDEtttaKk2GUFY0HGSLcAp30Jd7RhKZenVIyhzQz/s1600-h/030.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5NJAM5K7uoa5xXq0rpWJ0Gq1cwiCe_bIS-x31xGaySV5MjdQE17n3ojbZwTA5-h3dhWzcR4xk68W0wABL6t9Rez51EMskErISGDEtttaKk2GUFY0HGSLcAp30Jd7RhKZenVIyhzQz/s320/030.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437563997136693074" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Start mixing the snow in with the other stuff.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMaGhcg1bpQOFmxzqivVvGu6ZIHdRUXp6ZwNPSmx-vk635SGH7UVp1dIrMpgPC3vvjd38tvA_sJ_zXPobfYQ3lwgC8UvgWHdby3yLuA_2AMIvPyCVx-yYDeM2KR8BGgZQQcmVpRAb/s1600-h/032.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMaGhcg1bpQOFmxzqivVvGu6ZIHdRUXp6ZwNPSmx-vk635SGH7UVp1dIrMpgPC3vvjd38tvA_sJ_zXPobfYQ3lwgC8UvgWHdby3yLuA_2AMIvPyCVx-yYDeM2KR8BGgZQQcmVpRAb/s320/032.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437564918582156642" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Keep adding snow (they say 5-6 cups, we probably ended up with 8 or more) until it becomes a mashed potato consistency.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMaGhcg1bpQOFmxzqivVvGu6ZIHdRUXp6ZwNPSmx-vk635SGH7UVp1dIrMpgPC3vvjd38tvA_sJ_zXPobfYQ3lwgC8UvgWHdby3yLuA_2AMIvPyCVx-yYDeM2KR8BGgZQQcmVpRAb/s1600-h/032.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3Ycd2eKK1I/AAAAAAAAHuU/3ycvTQyZURo/s1600-h/035.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3Ycd2eKK1I/AAAAAAAAHuU/3ycvTQyZURo/s320/035.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437564899260246866" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Scoop and serve!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3Ycd2eKK1I/AAAAAAAAHuU/3ycvTQyZURo/s1600-h/035.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3YcdU3hCcI/AAAAAAAAHuM/60MltIQQVkc/s1600-h/037.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3YcdU3hCcI/AAAAAAAAHuM/60MltIQQVkc/s320/037.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437564890239797698" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Josh added chocolate syrup to his to make chocolate ice cream!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3YcdU3hCcI/AAAAAAAAHuM/60MltIQQVkc/s1600-h/037.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3Ycc8EdNwI/AAAAAAAAHuE/OnKFy_7N6RI/s1600-h/040.JPG"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3Ycc8EdNwI/AAAAAAAAHuE/OnKFy_7N6RI/s320/040.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437564883583186690" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Voila! Vanilla and chocolate (with caramel sauce) snow ice cream!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3YcuBQJMiI/AAAAAAAAHus/KfTLUYltVOI/s1600-h/042.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3YcuBQJMiI/AAAAAAAAHus/KfTLUYltVOI/s320/042.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437565177032159778" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Problem though. It melts SUPER fast and gets all soupy. It was also WAY sweet.</div><div><br /></div><div>I ended up freezing half mine. It was really good frozen. Kind of like a vanilla <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">italian</span> ice. I actually enjoyed it more than when it was fresh. Again though, super sweet.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't have any pictures, but I did make more again tonight.</div><div><br /></div><div>This time I mixed 1 cup of milk, 1/4 cup sugar, 1 tsp vanilla and then put it in the freezer for 45 minutes or so.</div><div><br /></div><div>When the snow was mixed in the whole thing didn't get soupy. We froze most of it, but did end up having some too. This mix was MUCH better and I even have a sweet tooth. It also didn't <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">soupify</span> immediately. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now what to do with the other millions of cups of snow out there... </div><div><br /></div><div>*hugs and kisses*</div><div>mj</div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-47913078375850169942010-02-12T20:54:00.008-05:002010-02-12T21:58:55.892-05:00The second large snowstorm of 2010<div>This storm didn't start so late. The first snow flakes started around 3:30-4PM on Tuesday Feb 9, 2010.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI2vqg043usr3KEWQw3k0q-32Soee9EKEkhINMc8E5C7xi7AeZvkJPjsf9Mp96nKMM6AEFmdK-sUXbaJtehtCyUM2XA4R0MskWK8NeB17q5Xj3QslRqec2mRgvlRBa5RNY7REdiFP7/s1600-h/001.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI2vqg043usr3KEWQw3k0q-32Soee9EKEkhINMc8E5C7xi7AeZvkJPjsf9Mp96nKMM6AEFmdK-sUXbaJtehtCyUM2XA4R0MskWK8NeB17q5Xj3QslRqec2mRgvlRBa5RNY7REdiFP7/s320/001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437541660937716882" /></a> This was taken at 5:30PM. Yeah... lots of snow already.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-HDTlhxsbn2onsHXzng3TQwtm5XhAqsxUv5UVA2tbt2hG31jn5hGA0pK1lC-AmPlgsJpe_Z1hTMKr910gXlNhjM8nnsoTuXsGmnWVQbwwXEx_osT1SpXJfBqH3fdYdJ1ARaAQGv_n/s1600-h/002.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-HDTlhxsbn2onsHXzng3TQwtm5XhAqsxUv5UVA2tbt2hG31jn5hGA0pK1lC-AmPlgsJpe_Z1hTMKr910gXlNhjM8nnsoTuXsGmnWVQbwwXEx_osT1SpXJfBqH3fdYdJ1ARaAQGv_n/s320/002.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437541651981658034" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">SNOWFLAKES!!</div><div style="text-align: left;">This next photo was taken for Josh. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKyXQlQ07GL7fqif3lRJqsxHpN45Qd3jnbF8g89G6_e5Ns5HrqD7c50hNehRrhGQb087gsV-eyfnkFOf8jcNtgMNhiLd6pCv3hcdYJBkJoiqY_tucZrJ9HcFXOMOx53cH98mMlMXR/s1600-h/004.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKyXQlQ07GL7fqif3lRJqsxHpN45Qd3jnbF8g89G6_e5Ns5HrqD7c50hNehRrhGQb087gsV-eyfnkFOf8jcNtgMNhiLd6pCv3hcdYJBkJoiqY_tucZrJ9HcFXOMOx53cH98mMlMXR/s320/004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437541648264718114" /></a>This is an NSX. It was all OVER the road.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Do NOT drive a car like this in the snow if A. you aren't familiar with driving this in this type of weather and B. if it's snowing. Lol.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">On the other hand we were out in it too...</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiIb0wUP9iuGarc51utgwMdRhOYGH1UTZ3G94WCp5FvYBc0TJiFvFEp6hBfxj5nSE3B3T_aoonlhDQYvR2_2YQHaEclw0_8iyLbXW_EAtSYVomRkqiZNbb-1zMDbfvVrxUvs6ZZaO/s1600-h/006.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiIb0wUP9iuGarc51utgwMdRhOYGH1UTZ3G94WCp5FvYBc0TJiFvFEp6hBfxj5nSE3B3T_aoonlhDQYvR2_2YQHaEclw0_8iyLbXW_EAtSYVomRkqiZNbb-1zMDbfvVrxUvs6ZZaO/s320/006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437541638352314866" /></a> This was 83. Kind of a mess. Thank goodness for our subaru AWD!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Gy5lAv1HKebaLrkiJh2YNcr0Pboflaq2kBZLB_Nmzf4V889XaEuiRy-S6Telhg7GdVwVxaWXDWPnePddnFrG6PJrCO8NbpVEQi7ur3_NnvFB-WcLULv0Sf6HblLD7VurCfgWWFck/s1600-h/008.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Gy5lAv1HKebaLrkiJh2YNcr0Pboflaq2kBZLB_Nmzf4V889XaEuiRy-S6Telhg7GdVwVxaWXDWPnePddnFrG6PJrCO8NbpVEQi7ur3_NnvFB-WcLULv0Sf6HblLD7VurCfgWWFck/s320/008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437541633524252018" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Another shot of 83. It was pretty dead on our side. Going the other way it was lots of traffic.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Why were we out though?? So Josh could go snowboarding at <a href="http://www.skiroundtop.com/">Roundtop</a>! Lol. I can't ski or board due to my stupid surgery thing... BUT I play an amazing lodge bunny. You should see me!</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Gy5lAv1HKebaLrkiJh2YNcr0Pboflaq2kBZLB_Nmzf4V889XaEuiRy-S6Telhg7GdVwVxaWXDWPnePddnFrG6PJrCO8NbpVEQi7ur3_NnvFB-WcLULv0Sf6HblLD7VurCfgWWFck/s1600-h/008.JPG"></a>These next few pictures are what happened when we got home from Roundtop. It took forever in the car to get there and back. Everyone else got plenty of snow play time. Suddenly I felt the urge.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlNBqcPV3LqQEPD8S0z8TFHQcyS4BVTWJVv3PvcIdUi17znMiBghvnGAaMDaesVKpINkPwfLfMXIHll-Z9vLyiTNj3-U0QCqutY_L8mUP2fgAVO88Qef8q2h0cJM9AtXIk_JfrQ9R/s1600-h/010.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlNBqcPV3LqQEPD8S0z8TFHQcyS4BVTWJVv3PvcIdUi17znMiBghvnGAaMDaesVKpINkPwfLfMXIHll-Z9vLyiTNj3-U0QCqutY_L8mUP2fgAVO88Qef8q2h0cJM9AtXIk_JfrQ9R/s320/010.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437543420185634530" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> "Josh, grab the camera. Yes the camera. TAKE A PICTURE OF ME IN THE SNOW"<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8tJB1RLRc2HKwiM-MKARMEQ3_eJFAMVeXTakh7xN1O1WNmtOElz56L5O_cbe7mkVbFqXBuME0NjpiiMuvwUaY3Vdt1zTolmhee-TeQD9KLK1QSNrl1LDuRMIN9vWswcLpRtOSRme/s1600-h/011.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8tJB1RLRc2HKwiM-MKARMEQ3_eJFAMVeXTakh7xN1O1WNmtOElz56L5O_cbe7mkVbFqXBuME0NjpiiMuvwUaY3Vdt1zTolmhee-TeQD9KLK1QSNrl1LDuRMIN9vWswcLpRtOSRme/s320/011.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437543410556922722" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> *jump*</div><div style="text-align: right;">"tee hee hee I am making a SNOW angel!!"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-xU13x8d-YDXWxP1PrgBZ3ssChRQIkkVd0kvZ0CNAtM0DkNpieRyFWdcwcJXa3DRX86kj6c766OkPejjndS6BqlOIqaSnXHwxoF93Tkl0R8HsrMP0-3QUxQsC0Y3KS7RpYpOQCdVn/s1600-h/012.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-xU13x8d-YDXWxP1PrgBZ3ssChRQIkkVd0kvZ0CNAtM0DkNpieRyFWdcwcJXa3DRX86kj6c766OkPejjndS6BqlOIqaSnXHwxoF93Tkl0R8HsrMP0-3QUxQsC0Y3KS7RpYpOQCdVn/s320/012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437543405714394162" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXJk_153TvVTBbAlgaw3sNTZzGvVDQebDz6XTWY7x6lhbPI5q0bu6Q4KnHSC11c6nCATsJlTuX0xoxFOiIKHXPQ5NcdxAx0K8tzSO9omynOJ94YWiWQ9bVPL0Twtlei5RFPojcIX3h/s1600-h/014.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXJk_153TvVTBbAlgaw3sNTZzGvVDQebDz6XTWY7x6lhbPI5q0bu6Q4KnHSC11c6nCATsJlTuX0xoxFOiIKHXPQ5NcdxAx0K8tzSO9omynOJ94YWiWQ9bVPL0Twtlei5RFPojcIX3h/s320/014.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437543397953039618" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> "Look at my cold wet butt! It's cold... and WET!!"<br /><div style="text-align: right;">My masterpiece snow angel --> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqcDdO450zD_P935Xt6yYOeonVqL2g7CjX3w_PwE5FWfM98UjaIQAepCKsQ5pqV-7c6MUrxiioak9EeK2fRyS8izkTlyIPxBFBbiUbjwWld1VgAj7DZUqDG4C3l9Tg9WSR-hdQQMjH/s1600-h/015.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqcDdO450zD_P935Xt6yYOeonVqL2g7CjX3w_PwE5FWfM98UjaIQAepCKsQ5pqV-7c6MUrxiioak9EeK2fRyS8izkTlyIPxBFBbiUbjwWld1VgAj7DZUqDG4C3l9Tg9WSR-hdQQMjH/s320/015.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437543388965786930" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Doing this made me so happy and excited. I can't describe how good it feels to feel NORMAL and not want to sulk on the couch and cry all the time. So anyways...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I took this photo on the morning of the 10<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span>. It was STILL coming down. </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTAuKONFzsUkWnm5A2_-faRqFq9-sLaxJyJRIZGsfBD8yBzrRRbG_brzu1srga8JBy_11EmbUXHDXbKOK-DiCCsb9ah3lxbBGQEsTAR1kn9ifPfuzrxqYGGEE63u7yc9Qsz1vaCcQY/s1600-h/002.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTAuKONFzsUkWnm5A2_-faRqFq9-sLaxJyJRIZGsfBD8yBzrRRbG_brzu1srga8JBy_11EmbUXHDXbKOK-DiCCsb9ah3lxbBGQEsTAR1kn9ifPfuzrxqYGGEE63u7yc9Qsz1vaCcQY/s320/002.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437544737913890690" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTAuKONFzsUkWnm5A2_-faRqFq9-sLaxJyJRIZGsfBD8yBzrRRbG_brzu1srga8JBy_11EmbUXHDXbKOK-DiCCsb9ah3lxbBGQEsTAR1kn9ifPfuzrxqYGGEE63u7yc9Qsz1vaCcQY/s1600-h/002.JPG"></a>Looking out back.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxYseVdlFNoVigxYE_BHwmRz2bOagl00j2VQv3J1DVQvbiPWtF1naF_56mgYPwzCdRr7RXjXlZNxMWCHzyqn25AqBBbHc8gm-eSPXSKOxs1VIDQIq8TkCK_CwNuwwilNcDgX5tu76/s1600-h/004.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxYseVdlFNoVigxYE_BHwmRz2bOagl00j2VQv3J1DVQvbiPWtF1naF_56mgYPwzCdRr7RXjXlZNxMWCHzyqn25AqBBbHc8gm-eSPXSKOxs1VIDQIq8TkCK_CwNuwwilNcDgX5tu76/s320/004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437544736641148994" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">The black at the bottom of this photo is the bottom of the sliding glass doors.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghXnFiCfUUJJUlaJ-fumtjGVymWYctrbABpIG080rUq_1gghQlpFWOnWz7WXMwSYAPZcFvyAn0GXIK7Jj9PrxIUFjKZKQF5LjiUattOBGa_TCJuABLdyk_jEAm4YBYHNg4kflrcNsN/s1600-h/011.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghXnFiCfUUJJUlaJ-fumtjGVymWYctrbABpIG080rUq_1gghQlpFWOnWz7WXMwSYAPZcFvyAn0GXIK7Jj9PrxIUFjKZKQF5LjiUattOBGa_TCJuABLdyk_jEAm4YBYHNg4kflrcNsN/s320/011.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437544724787634546" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">They are 18" off the ground. The mound of snow was well over that.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2nfNVyYOtKSUq47AqggHyodShtmTigaAvkuoNoiBYk5IjHSOSqrYIrInCEXVo1VR3S7qMLcjkcpFsEscDnkW0hXlBQ4ONMnqk_IBqS8798Jcgr4ebs921xzafU5JHA7pNUDtS9oHz/s1600-h/013.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2nfNVyYOtKSUq47AqggHyodShtmTigaAvkuoNoiBYk5IjHSOSqrYIrInCEXVo1VR3S7qMLcjkcpFsEscDnkW0hXlBQ4ONMnqk_IBqS8798Jcgr4ebs921xzafU5JHA7pNUDtS9oHz/s320/013.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437544722786762690" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a> More of the backyard.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ2ZY-yVnrUyjwU9aQ6i8idPJlejYA0g27r3-vqAMESdNVi43dz7sRjIQSVzvalmdBNM0T91eiox8mtpGaGXpGNmttv1uUteLCFlO_tvwjiLNC27WVBEo4xSMUCgFBuOgIS77tLYmS/s1600-h/015.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ2ZY-yVnrUyjwU9aQ6i8idPJlejYA0g27r3-vqAMESdNVi43dz7sRjIQSVzvalmdBNM0T91eiox8mtpGaGXpGNmttv1uUteLCFlO_tvwjiLNC27WVBEo4xSMUCgFBuOgIS77tLYmS/s320/015.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437544713666566578" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a> Buried <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">suby</span>... again. Poor Josh keeps having to dig out the car!</div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Obviously you can't tell from this photo, but the plow truck was stuck. Really stuck. Over 20 minutes it took him to get himself unstuck. Ugh. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdp1pWcJzhSb8Pjch3Ixw6Uzp4-Na61EI-_OCExTfRgLIplWVcfk6Hy_lrEU-U5WhCgvjP7u7G4a5LcZB2dF90UpoWBycXH4RP84YvrRPbJuaZg_Wx-HwMsKxKvpxnyE8FA3-mDtXk/s1600-h/021.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdp1pWcJzhSb8Pjch3Ixw6Uzp4-Na61EI-_OCExTfRgLIplWVcfk6Hy_lrEU-U5WhCgvjP7u7G4a5LcZB2dF90UpoWBycXH4RP84YvrRPbJuaZg_Wx-HwMsKxKvpxnyE8FA3-mDtXk/s320/021.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437545793960788962" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmEKEbizaLeVMErDCykIUXJravK7BEAg6tuQXABowzbvzTVbFZYunmmJVWPX-ZBYTv8eRAlHK1sqmbuR1K368TsGmPEbagNCjpEqSiA-ZulwB11wQJKuTSllJ5CkPTy9Qsz6aTw4Ju/s1600-h/022.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmEKEbizaLeVMErDCykIUXJravK7BEAg6tuQXABowzbvzTVbFZYunmmJVWPX-ZBYTv8eRAlHK1sqmbuR1K368TsGmPEbagNCjpEqSiA-ZulwB11wQJKuTSllJ5CkPTy9Qsz6aTw4Ju/s320/022.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437545786097458834" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a> </div><div>This was all the better the road looked when he was done.</div><div><br /></div><div>I also want to note I am taking more photos again. YAY! </div><div><br /></div><div>This is a good thing obviously.</div><div><br /></div><div>*hugs and kisses*</div><div>mj</div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-81231655956180980352010-02-10T19:56:00.006-05:002010-02-13T16:07:19.453-05:00A brief lull in the snowBrought a lot of relief for me.<div><br /></div><div>This will get wordy so be prepared. Sorry. </div><div><br /></div><div>The roads started clearing up on Monday, but I was feeling worse. Lack of sleep, still in pain, emotionally drained. </div><div><br /></div><div>After another freak out Monday afternoon with lots of crying I finally made the phone call. I called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">SK's</span> office anticipating them not having an appointment until later in the week if at all. I did have an appointment with her next Tuesday, but I really hated to wait.</div><div><br /></div><div>Miraculously there was an appointment at 8:45 Tuesday morning. It was meant to be!</div><div><br /></div><div>I made a list of my concerns to discuss with SK on my iPhone. Yes I like to talk about my phone. I love it so.</div><div><br /></div><div>First and foremost was the crying and depression. Then it was followed by the lack of sleep, the pain in my stomach, my chest, my shoulders. My shortness of breath, my racing heart.</div><div><br /></div><div>I got up early Tuesday morning, got dressed and got behind the wheel of the car for the first time for almost a month. Josh let me have <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">suby</span> since the roads were still a little messy and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">suby</span> drives much better.</div><div><br /></div><div>I hate driving. I hate people that are on the roads. I almost rear ended a stupid older lady who STOPPED at a yield sign that I almost didn't see because of the snow on the curve of the road. Okay, I didn't almost rear end her, but I COULD have. Apparently I'm well known for my road issues. I just hate stupid drivers. *sigh* And what was stressing me out even more was the loads and loads and loads of traffic. I couldn't even get down the hill.</div><div><br /></div><div>Apparently 83N was closed due to weather and a tractor trailer that tipped over spilling roofing nails, tar and shingles *slaps forehead*. Really?</div><div><br /></div><div>So what normally takes me 10 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">mins</span> to get to, took me well over 45 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">mins</span>. Thankfully I am a freak of nature and had left 45 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">mins</span> early. I am smart. Or crazy. Whatever. And let me tell you, driving after this surgery is rough. Everything feels tight and it is hard to turn the wheel of the car.</div><div><br /></div><div>I get there, I sign in, they take me back to a room and THEN. Oh, and then. THEN they tell me SK is running late due to the traffic and I may have to see the other doctor. *gasp* Oh no. No <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">nonononono</span>. I totally panic. Oh gosh I guess my anxiety is worse than I thought. I frantically text my mom and Josh. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then I get a brilliant idea. I step out of my room and tell the nurse I have to use the bathroom. I proceeded to lock myself in there for 10 minutes to stall. Again with my iPhone. YES I AM CRAZY. I'd rather people think I was destroying a toilet (obviously if you are a regular blog visitor, you'll know I've already done it) than not see SK. </div><div><br /></div><div>I get back to my room and I hear them say she is almost there. Oh sweet relief. </div><div><br /></div><div>When she comes in I almost cry when I see her. Ten seconds later when she says "oh honey how are you?" I really do burst into tears. I tell her everything. EVERYTHING that is going on. My list, things going on with my family, my skin issues. The flood gates are open and I'm spilling my guts.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am talking frantically, my hands are shaking and apparently I turned ghost white (she asked if I was going to pass out) at one point as well. I have never trusted a medical professional as much as her. She always understands me, always listens to me and has never failed me. </div><div><br /></div><div>After about a 45 minute session we have a plan.</div><div><br /></div><div>First is to deal with the pain. Second get me some sleep. Third deal with my anxiety. Then we'll talk about maybe doing physical therapy for my shoulders if they are still bothering me.</div><div><br /></div><div>She wrote me some prescriptions, hugged me, told me to call her today and made an appointment in March for a follow up.</div><div><br /></div><div>I immediately headed to Target to get everything filled. I also asked them to fill my prenatal vitamins. Yes I take prenatal vitamins. My hair looks FABULOUS!! That's the only reason. </div><div><br /></div><div>After my 45 minute wait I picked up all my drugs.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3NvwdggtqI/AAAAAAAAHq8/8pFrASFaBJQ/s1600-h/043.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3NvwdggtqI/AAAAAAAAHq8/8pFrASFaBJQ/s320/043.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436812053511714466" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">So I had my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">prenatals</span>, but then there was the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Tramadol</span> (generic for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Ultram</span>), <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Lorazepam</span> (generic for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Ativan</span>) and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Lexapro</span>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And of course I got the one <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">pharm</span> lady that knows me because of our street name. So she probably thinks I'm a pain <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">junky</span> who is trying to get knocked up, and who is depressed and anxious. Whoa.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In reality. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">prenatals</span> really are for my hair. When I went off hormonal birth control my body went a little crazy so I needed a little something to get my body back into shape.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.drugs.com/tramadol.html"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Tramadol</span></a> (generic for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Ultram</span>) is a pain medication. It is not a narcotic. It can not be used in conjunction with any <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">SSRI's</span> or the like because of how it works. So I can't take the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Lexapro</span>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.drugs.com/pdr/lexapro.html"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Lexapro</span></a> will be for when I am no longer taking the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Tramadol</span>. I've taken it before. It does wonders for my depression and anxiety. I went off it because I was "feeling better." You shouldn't do this. I was fine for 3 years though. Ugh. Depression is complicated. Don't follow my example.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.drugs.com/lorazepam.html"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Lorazepam</span></a> (generic for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Ativan</span>) is the final drug I picked up yesterday. It is for an immediate anxiety reduction (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Lexapro</span> is long term depression and anxiety reduction). I took <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Lorazepam</span> when we flew to CO. It makes me super sleepy and calms me down.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When I got home last night I took the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Tramadol</span> at 1PM and then again at 7:30PM. It was such a relief. It didn't make me woozy, it didn't take all the pain away, but it took the edge off and made me relaxed for the first time in almost a month. I couldn't believe the difference between this and the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Vicodin</span> I was taking before.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">At bedtime I took a whole <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Lorazepam</span> and promptly fell all the way asleep. It was AMAZING. I slept the whole night, I woke up feeling rested. I didn't lay awake for hours with my brain on full throttle. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">If I felt good last night I felt GREAT today. Yeah, maybe it was the placebo effect. Maybe it was just having a doctor say to me that I wasn't crazy and we could work through this (no offense to Dr. P or his staff, but they don't KNOW me like SK knows me). Maybe SK really can work magic and knew exactly what I needed to get to a better place. Whatever it was I am so thankful for the sleep, the lack of pain, the lack of crying. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3Nvwg9BBlI/AAAAAAAAHrE/b7z0eV3rHoI/s1600-h/044.JPG"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3Nvwg9BBlI/AAAAAAAAHrE/b7z0eV3rHoI/s320/044.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436812054436578898" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a> These are all the medications I've picked up at the pharmacy since all this went down (minus another bottle of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Vicodin</span> that I've already consumed and threw out).</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3Nvw857laI/AAAAAAAAHrM/zIfI5qCnc8g/s1600-h/046.JPG"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cvHsG_X7zZg/S3Nvw857laI/AAAAAAAAHrM/zIfI5qCnc8g/s320/046.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436812061939832226" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is all the medication I've taken BECAUSE of the surgery. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Boy this has been a rough road. I appreciate the support everyone. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Tomorrow is another follow up appointment with Dr. P, my surgeon. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*hugs and kisses*</div><div style="text-align: left;">mj</div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-64137518313592552462010-02-09T14:45:00.006-05:002010-02-09T16:09:45.069-05:00The first large snowstorm of 2010The storm started late on the 5<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> of February. Continued into late on the 6<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span>. <div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMuOIbvoC5QzCwvSvZeh0yCrTjmdi85Y8GvjR53r56TusPM0xgxS5x-Yd5N8XQe2YKtxlvVf-BtLn1WEgIjQi7IHdY87lbYSplCQ0M7nmkbwMZApzUSnj1PEdUsZl9dAW1YKrnkgie/s1600-h/photo+(10).jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMuOIbvoC5QzCwvSvZeh0yCrTjmdi85Y8GvjR53r56TusPM0xgxS5x-Yd5N8XQe2YKtxlvVf-BtLn1WEgIjQi7IHdY87lbYSplCQ0M7nmkbwMZApzUSnj1PEdUsZl9dAW1YKrnkgie/s320/photo+(10).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436339824640650594" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is our back yard. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Zuki</span> is the second car from the right. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsmkT9n6B-zHoiozlsSoE7oHn8a7iFGroSDJmwjO5WWPvNbVBt3cnZYAm09bX2CVKcjdLHCKy9572Asjz1oAhcDRGki444yYfn5TWAEwW0LQ8ljsyzE45qMmlJp0XjKIL3PSRGYyt_/s1600-h/002.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsmkT9n6B-zHoiozlsSoE7oHn8a7iFGroSDJmwjO5WWPvNbVBt3cnZYAm09bX2CVKcjdLHCKy9572Asjz1oAhcDRGki444yYfn5TWAEwW0LQ8ljsyzE45qMmlJp0XjKIL3PSRGYyt_/s320/002.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436332973666004722" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Snow up to my "snow" window clings!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkeynku9lm0n61sPnc45erO4kfyaDph-I9UC12RYHWXW75e6rJ2_M2Cuklxy0fJwY-1j6iyiVLrqY3MV4hci6nePCYYynk8Z6xFEwGfFhrC8fM4pS5RzIIPdCgwyTsYeh0pCI8daQj/s1600-h/004.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkeynku9lm0n61sPnc45erO4kfyaDph-I9UC12RYHWXW75e6rJ2_M2Cuklxy0fJwY-1j6iyiVLrqY3MV4hci6nePCYYynk8Z6xFEwGfFhrC8fM4pS5RzIIPdCgwyTsYeh0pCI8daQj/s320/004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436332976624279314" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">What happened when we opened the front door! The stoop is like 6 inches below this.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVudiLZvppZR5COCikhfQE-5St4X47a3PFLQIuYxLW3OqkOV-0bYBf-4gkUiybjbhzNjKgTWozbEcObDTt1CoWT1j0hY5IvMZvNJixxxPya11JbpC_UDshNSgE92pZnafy0052BrkM/s1600-h/006.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVudiLZvppZR5COCikhfQE-5St4X47a3PFLQIuYxLW3OqkOV-0bYBf-4gkUiybjbhzNjKgTWozbEcObDTt1CoWT1j0hY5IvMZvNJixxxPya11JbpC_UDshNSgE92pZnafy0052BrkM/s320/006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436333000497122434" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9teh92cBk4lV_m67x-MCgzeKjPZeIHXrqjV7Ng8VY59CqyMONmVIGVlM3Bm1IOuXNrZdq8cHr4R-tmwOcLO_A2lB2EhfqomhXCg0gBOhhHXc1CeweyYKlYR7n41QLqrjtLcH__op3/s1600-h/010.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9teh92cBk4lV_m67x-MCgzeKjPZeIHXrqjV7Ng8VY59CqyMONmVIGVlM3Bm1IOuXNrZdq8cHr4R-tmwOcLO_A2lB2EhfqomhXCg0gBOhhHXc1CeweyYKlYR7n41QLqrjtLcH__op3/s320/010.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436334705476619618" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I just think the solid snow pack looks neat.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif2s3_q51PavvsP-8rTyuMi46VPEHzjBjleKC3eHsM6-WSEcglqqeqe_FQS37D7RWkJrIPg9wUMGkoZ7ybWRi-B1i5Z8x0W3G-wkc4CSVaWT23DFrOadDMw7aGLadXzdZE4M-YRBW4/s1600-h/005.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif2s3_q51PavvsP-8rTyuMi46VPEHzjBjleKC3eHsM6-WSEcglqqeqe_FQS37D7RWkJrIPg9wUMGkoZ7ybWRi-B1i5Z8x0W3G-wkc4CSVaWT23DFrOadDMw7aGLadXzdZE4M-YRBW4/s320/005.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436332986305123570" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">There is a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">subaru</span> car under there!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHFQMwkfHZy8U4rtRPv4wM3_2JA6S7xqLTrZ_cZAnY5sxDzYetkS9XW_ixzWbjAx0FZEhx3jaP8CMx4jhrcrnhfkrJ2XvZa5S8nuYD_TIxLJ0fia4_FW1Xc6J-m339KmALBBdRw7bb/s1600-h/008.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHFQMwkfHZy8U4rtRPv4wM3_2JA6S7xqLTrZ_cZAnY5sxDzYetkS9XW_ixzWbjAx0FZEhx3jaP8CMx4jhrcrnhfkrJ2XvZa5S8nuYD_TIxLJ0fia4_FW1Xc6J-m339KmALBBdRw7bb/s320/008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436333008423885970" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtHEPXAn4Qg7GPQK0e9MZOKWN4N1MKAv8LFmo0ByB_piO1CFOkC_lhQObNCn1mLvbZ6wTRx6IvmLOHe02n7F6HpBFfcvq5WjfyomNGkMvybtjlM25jdbJMe5Car3fbYzY0RxU2sRls/s1600-h/009.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtHEPXAn4Qg7GPQK0e9MZOKWN4N1MKAv8LFmo0ByB_piO1CFOkC_lhQObNCn1mLvbZ6wTRx6IvmLOHe02n7F6HpBFfcvq5WjfyomNGkMvybtjlM25jdbJMe5Car3fbYzY0RxU2sRls/s320/009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436334695861589234" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">The view from the garage.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb6CNIWN2lD58904KaBFIIHTE7PG-rMXJU8Mi36JFyDJaCVzTZz03o_U-YFzxiG24Qg4iafavgTuBQrSNU7xteNqb8mntSuT7VCU6aZcdfhqpDEe_WjLWhzRGuDdCLpSXg2WJe1GvJ/s1600-h/013.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb6CNIWN2lD58904KaBFIIHTE7PG-rMXJU8Mi36JFyDJaCVzTZz03o_U-YFzxiG24Qg4iafavgTuBQrSNU7xteNqb8mntSuT7VCU6aZcdfhqpDEe_WjLWhzRGuDdCLpSXg2WJe1GvJ/s320/013.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436334716297620322" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Back of our neighbor's house. You can see the drifting from the wind. Yikes!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhON4pPlZqbKH0gZBkMGebBmZtQqXqt0XVUyx8t485mot00ti9ivW3L8c9P-iiGYnv9NxzkLnkL8f1Q7_aY3O9I2opY5-fSMXdHShamevHwQgMZE1XNwZQj2VDLViHgCWRHeFWsOkt-/s1600-h/012.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhON4pPlZqbKH0gZBkMGebBmZtQqXqt0XVUyx8t485mot00ti9ivW3L8c9P-iiGYnv9NxzkLnkL8f1Q7_aY3O9I2opY5-fSMXdHShamevHwQgMZE1XNwZQj2VDLViHgCWRHeFWsOkt-/s320/012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436334714717875842" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Josh being silly.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGzzr_YwEh1wBBEfkYjokE-nChKaWjZ0agxp-XiVSlLawXHOA8IzMpJdIy-MTLWJ70ajFmB9Y2_M7xgheQMRWbJkh0CEfmarQj4N-3hk3JYxaeHwQdNz2e2D5Dq_E1KJptOdGDGRd/s1600-h/018.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGzzr_YwEh1wBBEfkYjokE-nChKaWjZ0agxp-XiVSlLawXHOA8IzMpJdIy-MTLWJ70ajFmB9Y2_M7xgheQMRWbJkh0CEfmarQj4N-3hk3JYxaeHwQdNz2e2D5Dq_E1KJptOdGDGRd/s320/018.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436334726300392866" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">What a great husband shoveling (even though we PAY someone to do that).</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipHTKllRgFQCfRLAkdOkt_wyJzSi5u3ue0r_2Nbj_CYC6cPyhg9xeAtOR7oqYn3TUSIHZoQXJhCtpOvyVzPY-MmNteCZvXfL4iuDwxLhKsaS_SlhyphenhyphenEpbuOaEFUJ5_4TghKN7wNWdfC/s1600-h/019.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipHTKllRgFQCfRLAkdOkt_wyJzSi5u3ue0r_2Nbj_CYC6cPyhg9xeAtOR7oqYn3TUSIHZoQXJhCtpOvyVzPY-MmNteCZvXfL4iuDwxLhKsaS_SlhyphenhyphenEpbuOaEFUJ5_4TghKN7wNWdfC/s320/019.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436337513187391554" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeFZiTKoi0qH01kFy5_y-CyaNuZzFHfLQlcZ673IX7zO4EVRuwLFYMr5YJgn5mwx1PJGyIkdunyRuY1ixmQF3Nha88Eryi8cmtwpUil1qVYJfUyCc5kbtc11rbJFphkfOehACpm9re/s1600-h/022.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeFZiTKoi0qH01kFy5_y-CyaNuZzFHfLQlcZ673IX7zO4EVRuwLFYMr5YJgn5mwx1PJGyIkdunyRuY1ixmQF3Nha88Eryi8cmtwpUil1qVYJfUyCc5kbtc11rbJFphkfOehACpm9re/s320/022.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436337518754063298" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I brought him beer to go with his shovel. It made it more enjoyable for him!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBy5MNQI2_tK-6_eI9PRV4ZAPu2aVuR54w31_akMrb-mrHgdfRA68Zi5aj9tu4vIhYjBY2_MeeCt99IsP2cgs0s5jbnAk5Hl3WimUwXt4C9PQr0_JaGpIcrfEtxiRIPRo4dWKQ6bK6/s1600-h/photo+(9).jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBy5MNQI2_tK-6_eI9PRV4ZAPu2aVuR54w31_akMrb-mrHgdfRA68Zi5aj9tu4vIhYjBY2_MeeCt99IsP2cgs0s5jbnAk5Hl3WimUwXt4C9PQr0_JaGpIcrfEtxiRIPRo4dWKQ6bK6/s320/photo+(9).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436339822351657234" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">It's like a winter wonderland.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UWh2OHrLqW8wND6DZcTPHKNaGLs9ROi_FMhG1HTW1qKw5oZL3yksn6P7bgApX8zzKGrDaN14mMFu1fAEOctCSHGf2-0iT0CF6GqHS3ifM4MqamvYmfRbWrG5Jut6ggIPjrvaiH-c/s1600-h/photo+(11).jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UWh2OHrLqW8wND6DZcTPHKNaGLs9ROi_FMhG1HTW1qKw5oZL3yksn6P7bgApX8zzKGrDaN14mMFu1fAEOctCSHGf2-0iT0CF6GqHS3ifM4MqamvYmfRbWrG5Jut6ggIPjrvaiH-c/s320/photo+(11).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436339832683528674" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">If you have an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">AWD</span> car it's like MANDATORY to drive in the snow.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglbGnT1K3iNGIe_GOtdjvV7T7khDq4VzymVUNGMYF743do3UegB-yMOnEFKc45ZJNf374__UAG7_0AZOTE-z-RyfUObzB3xWFYMh-8xX6-76RqNv-GDu8c6rslw7GXcdHqjZObonOM/s1600-h/photo+(12).jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglbGnT1K3iNGIe_GOtdjvV7T7khDq4VzymVUNGMYF743do3UegB-yMOnEFKc45ZJNf374__UAG7_0AZOTE-z-RyfUObzB3xWFYMh-8xX6-76RqNv-GDu8c6rslw7GXcdHqjZObonOM/s320/photo+(12).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436339841385506578" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Until you get stuck like we did here. It's okay, we are experienced and got it out.</div><div style="text-align: center;">(Although we were passed by two plow trucks and then <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">OMG</span> a police car and I was afraid he would stop and yell at us. Dude didn't even stop to HELP us. Whatever.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8d6BEbZvBUaFyve5MCWfig-8lHXjEQer2pVAgZDC8d2ycsVrwnPqulbTwYZ7TC_SCs8zdbMhCDJSoik50iN79nqaD8waTJ1lhwypBAwqKNDDuG57c5P97ljf9k72o9vPzVb35nMj/s1600-h/026.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8d6BEbZvBUaFyve5MCWfig-8lHXjEQer2pVAgZDC8d2ycsVrwnPqulbTwYZ7TC_SCs8zdbMhCDJSoik50iN79nqaD8waTJ1lhwypBAwqKNDDuG57c5P97ljf9k72o9vPzVb35nMj/s320/026.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436337525170805010" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">It looks so funny with all the SNOW in our yards.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Thankfully we enjoy driving in the snow and made a trip out on Saturday night and found frozen bread. Although I totally <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">wussed</span> out on trying it - a big thanks to my awesome cooking blog friend Uncanny and her bread making loveliness. I linked her blog in my previous post. I do want to make the bread, but I got scared I would totally screw it up and then have nothing to take to the SUPER BOWL parties we attended. Another thanks to my friend <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">RockThis</span> who gave me the idea for the pizza bites - which I did use.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We did end up at two Super Bowl parties. I had a great time. I tried to have a little alcohol at the first one. It made me sick. One of my friend's sons asked everyone who went to the bathroom if they pooped. It made me laugh until I hurt (which doesn't take <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">tooo</span> much). We also taught him to fist bump. WITH fireworks. SCORE!!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Then we almost got into an accident when <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Zuki</span> came out of 4 wheel drive. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Weeeee</span>... Josh is a good driver though, so almost just means he lost a little traction, but we were fine.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />I was really tired at the second one. So we left early. *sigh*</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Guess what is happening right now?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">MORE SNOW on it's way.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Awesome. I STILL can't sled ride. Boo.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh well.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*hugs and kisses*</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">mj</span></div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-21643955331455491602010-02-05T19:58:00.003-05:002010-02-05T21:58:56.861-05:00Time for a three week update.Three weeks already? Who I am kidding? This feels like the LONGEST three weeks EVER.<div><br /></div><div>The difference between last week and this week are crazy though. This time last week I was a blubbering, crying, inconsolable mess. This week. Eh. I would say I am about 70% back to my normal. Give or take a couple percents. </div><div><br /></div><div>Physically things hurt less. I'm still having some breathing issues, I have a little trouble occasionally when I eat (it seems I can't swallow food, which feels stuck, which makes me feel like my chest is ripping apart, which makes me panic, which makes me feel like I'm dying), and my shoulders and ribcage are still tender.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mentally I am processing everything better. I am not so forlorn and lost. Things are starting to look up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Emotionally I have stopped crying every day. I have it down to like once every 2-3 days. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think that last 30% is going to take a while. I wish it wouldn't, but it's just a feeling I have. Which is not cool because I KNOW that healing is mind over matter and my mind is just not into it.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Grrrr</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and did you know that we are having SNOW?!?! Yes it is SNOWING. I have to capitalize SNOW because everyone is all worked up about the SNOW. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Lololol</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div>I took this photo at 4:30<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ish</span>. It had just started.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu2Oyv7K0o9fwBzioAHZgKUqjdY2vpo1cLw6qCfyYiLZc6srtNa1dinZGbbe7bD6iYEAU14kkzJ5vXyxirmKGjkFdIKRmaTn7CQrQIK5nXX4q-QA82ZgM_xzf74tAIqQM9kEZIlFPA/s1600-h/photo+(8).jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu2Oyv7K0o9fwBzioAHZgKUqjdY2vpo1cLw6qCfyYiLZc6srtNa1dinZGbbe7bD6iYEAU14kkzJ5vXyxirmKGjkFdIKRmaTn7CQrQIK5nXX4q-QA82ZgM_xzf74tAIqQM9kEZIlFPA/s320/photo+(8).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434955585730994066" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">There is supposedly 22 total inches on the way for here. Maybe? Who knows. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I couldn't get a picture of the snow tonight because it was too dark out. So I took this photo of ME at 9PM.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt32g3ainnLn2Qz1Wp2l2ZcXKplC1GG21UiOS6KdFrFb2TUHPndp23VdAF7t9A_w3i0e5e7TxhbvPnBAFPFMgIa_kLLO9i9LnXKTe0O4_ShYpXkzZ58O_D9l9RqUWu8P7oKPeeD2yZ/s1600-h/photo+(7).jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt32g3ainnLn2Qz1Wp2l2ZcXKplC1GG21UiOS6KdFrFb2TUHPndp23VdAF7t9A_w3i0e5e7TxhbvPnBAFPFMgIa_kLLO9i9LnXKTe0O4_ShYpXkzZ58O_D9l9RqUWu8P7oKPeeD2yZ/s320/photo+(7).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434955581364601442" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a> I love Oscar. And my Halloween skull <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">PJ</span> pants. Oh baby!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And I haven't mentioned the upcoming Super Bowl yet because so much ELSE is going on. So about that Super Bowl. With those teams playing. Who I have NO idea who they are. Yeah...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">People wigging out have ruined my Super Bowl food making plans. I wanted to make pizza roll. I need frozen bread. THE GROCERY STORE WAS OUT OF FROZEN BREAD. Seriously?? I HATE being that person at the store, but I was so annoyed. So I might be making <a href="http://annies-eats.com/2010/02/01/pizza-bites/">pizza bites</a> instead. Or I may use my friend's pizza dough recipe found <a href="http://adventuresinmyfreezer.blogspot.com/2008/08/freezable-pizza-dough.html">HERE</a>. She has an awesome cooking blog.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We aren't hosting this year and have two parties to attend. I'm kind of excited as long as snow doesn't freak too many people out. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So that is my three week wrap up. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Maybe I will get out tomorrow and take some SNOW pictures.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I haven't used my camera in almost a MONTH. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">BOOOOOOO</span>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*hugs and kisses*</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">mj</span></div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-52708757937875270882010-02-01T21:22:00.002-05:002010-02-01T22:21:32.672-05:00HOW did we get to the short monthalready?? What happened to January? Anyone know?<div><br /></div><div>I seriously can not believe it's February already. Where did the time go? The only things I have accomplished are some reading, lots of couch potatoing, some MOUSE potatoing (I'll explain that in a minute) and recovering. Oh, and you know the whole surgery thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>About that mouse potatoing. I read my Nora Ephron book that Nina and Greg got me. </div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/57/90/a/57904790_a.jpg"><img src="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/57/90/a/57904790_a.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 80px; height: 124px; " /></a> </div><div>Apparently it is a term that describes people that instead of wasting their time on the couch watching tv (couch potato) they sit around and waste time on the computer. THIS my friends is a mouse potato. And guess what? I TOTALLY fit that term. *shrugs* </div><div><br /></div><div>I also managed to read</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/57/75/a/57753744_a.jpg"><img src="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/57/75/a/57753744_a.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 80px; height: 121px; " /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/59/25/a/59250484_a.jpg"><img src="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/59/25/a/59250484_a.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 80px; height: 119px; " /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/56/00/a/56005992_a.jpg"><img src="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/56/00/a/56005992_a.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 80px; height: 147px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">These two I just purchased and should be here before the weekend.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/57/11/a/57112985_a.jpg"><img src="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/57/11/a/57112985_a.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 80px; height: 129px; " /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/59/41/a/59419381_a.jpg"><img src="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/59/41/a/59419381_a.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 80px; height: 122px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Apparently Joe Hill is Stephen King's son's pen name. Who knew??</div><div style="text-align: center;">And finally this is my current book.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/56/47/a/56476202_a.jpg"><img src="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/56/47/a/56476202_a.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 80px; height: 131px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm about 4 pages in. Lol. I couldn't sleep last night and was up until 5AM. I started reading this book today and totally fell asleep. The book was fine, I was just exhausted.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">How am I keeping track of all my reading now? I belong to a site called <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/">goodreads</a>. It helps me keep track of what I'm reading, what my friends are reading and has been super helpful so I don't forgot what I WANTED to read too!!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And no, I'm not just reading. I've also managed to catch up on <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0898266/">The Big Bang Theory</a> and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0460649/">How I Met Your Mother</a>. I've also started watching <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0804503/">Mad Men</a> and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0496424/">30 Rock</a>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">How have I missed all these amazing shows??</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh, and I watched two Star Wars movies. *gasp*</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Stubborn no more! Or at least on that.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*hugs and kisses*</div><div style="text-align: left;">mj</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/57/75/a/57753744_a.jpg"></a></div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-26692146278141874872010-01-28T13:03:00.002-05:002010-01-28T13:17:53.742-05:00It should be getting betterbut currently it is not. The pain is still there. Still not letting me sleep comfortably all night. Which is making me tired. Which is making me not want to do anything during the day. Which isn't helping me sleep at night. See the pattern?<div><br /></div><div>There is a lot of frustration right now. A lot. I'm also crying. A lot. </div><div><br /></div><div>And can we discuss how I just got my period which means cramps and bloating on top of the stomach pain, swelling and uncomfortable feelings from surgery.</div><div><br /></div><div>Can we add my typical period crazy feelings to the frustration too?</div><div><br /></div><div>Holy whine fest huh?</div><div><br /></div><div>Yeah, I try not to be this person. SO...</div><div><br /></div><div>On an better note - I had a great time going out for my friend <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Kandice's</span> birthday on Tuesday night! We went to <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/zen-mitsuru-york"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Mitsuru</span></a> and had sushi. I do love sushi!</div><div><br /></div><div>And last night Josh and I snuggled on the couch for a little while. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tonight Josh and I will be going on a date to TARGET to pick up more pain <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">meds</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">YAY</span>!!</div><div><br /></div><div>*hugs and kisses*</div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">mj</span></div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-17138418700021435992010-01-25T15:28:00.003-05:002010-01-25T16:38:10.253-05:00I once had a pretend brain tumorI wasn't pretending it was a brain tumor. IT was pretending it was a brain tumor.<div><br /></div><div>Way back during my first surgery <a href="http://anomalyofanorangelife.blogspot.com/2009/02/friday-february-13-2009_24.html">blogging</a> I mentioned this crazy phenomenon. When I was asked by the nurse if I was allergic to anything I mentioned tetracycline which is a common drug prescribed for acne. You can read the rest of that story if you follow the link (it's blissfully short and is the fourth paragraph under the first photo of me).</div><div><br /></div><div>Both subsequent times I've had surgery I am also asked about drug allergies and both times I have told them about the tetracycline. Why this popped into my head today to discuss I don't really know. I mean I was looking at possibly side effects of long term <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Vicodin</span> use (I know I've only been on it for like 4.5 days - I'm paranoid okay?) and then for some reason I threw tetracycline into the search engine.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.buy-antibiotics.com/images/Tetracycline_250mg_capsule.JPG"><img src="http://www.buy-antibiotics.com/images/Tetracycline_250mg_capsule.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 216px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">(click <a href="http://www.buy-antibiotics.com/Tetracycline_250mg.html">HERE</a> for more information)</div><div><br /></div><div>Nothing came up. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Hmmm</span>. I mean well stuff came up (headache, nausea, vomiting, etc) but nothing about severe debilitating headaches that were associated with tumor like symptoms.</div><div><br /></div><div>Although, if you type in pseudo tumor <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">cerebri</span> and read anything involving causes, tetracycline is listed. Interesting again. I suppose it is because it causes such a SMALL number of cases they don't want to freak anyone out, but let me tell you who was freaked out when no one knew what was going on - ME!</div><div><br /></div><div>When I was 14 I had really bad acne. Actually I had it at 12 and 13 too, but 14 was when I made up my mind to DO something about it. After lots of creams, treatments, etc I was put tetracycline to try to dial down the massive large red breakouts all over my face.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now my EXACT details on this whole escapade are fuzzy. It was almost 14 years ago and I was an overly dramatic, hormonal 14 year old. Suffice to say I started the tetracycline. My acne started clearing up. I also started getting debilitating migraines to the point I was super light sensitive and throwing up. This was attributed to "hormones" and "growing" and "girl problems." Then one day I passed out in gym class while running the track. And I mean face first plant directly into the cinders with no hands out to catch me. </div><div><br /></div><div>It looked like I had acne all over again! Ha! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ok</span>, I shouldn't joke, but what else is there to say? I looked a mess. Saw my doctor again. More "hormones, growing, stress, etc." and I was sent on my way.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then that winter I was walking home from school. I lived 1/2 block from the high school, so not far at all. I did however, in that 1/2 block distance, have to cross the one "major" street in my hometown (yes, there was only one, MAYBE two major streets). I was midway across that street when I collapsed. I have no memory of feeling weak. Just walking and then someone carrying me home (a school friend who saw it happen).</div><div><br /></div><div>The speed limit wasn't high, but had I passed out in front a car, it still could have run me over. Ugh. Bad thoughts.</div><div><br /></div><div>That was when the neurologist got involved. Several <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">MRI's</span>, tests and scans and low and behold they found my pretend tumor! I had a large increase of fluid that was pushing on my brain just like a tumor would.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was told to stop all medications I was taking and present a list to my doctors. List was presented, medications were stopped and miraculously the REALLY bad headaches and the passing out stopped (temporarily). </div><div><br /></div><div>After about 4 months I was called back to the doctor's office to get my official diagnosis. I had an allergic reaction to the tetracycline that cause a pseudo tumor <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">cerebri</span>. It is most common in women of child bearing age and even more common in obese women. Now I fit the first criteria, but at that point in my life, I was still really skinny. This issue causes problems in less than 1% of the population and the fact that stopping the tetracycline cured the swelling in my brain I was officially diagnosed and told to NEVER take it AGAIN.</div><div><br /></div><div>Apparently the less than 1% diagnosis still prevents LOTS of medical professionals from knowing about it, which makes sense to me. Could you imagine having to know EVERY potential issue with EVERY potential person?? It's why we have the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">internet</span> people!!</div><div><br /></div><div>So that is my fun story for today. It only took me almost a year to explain it. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Lol</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div>However it doesn't explain why I wrote that my last post was #150 when really I only have #148 (well this one will make #149) published. I'm sneaking this in HERE way down at the bottom because I feel dumb. I didn't realize I had two unfinished posts lurking around that I gave up on. Oops. My bad. Ignore my mistake. I'll make up for it with MORE POSTS!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Check back later this week for some Q&A from emails I've gotten (and I will respond to those emails shortly as well - I promise!!), and maybe another discussion on my weirdness including my predisposition to passing out and WHY am I allergic to the alternatives to things?</div><div><br /></div><div>Always a fun time around here!!</div><div><br /></div><div>*hugs and kisses*</div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">mj</span></div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-40891143924368278772010-01-23T12:18:00.006-05:002010-01-23T15:53:16.062-05:00Post #150 has graphic photosSeriously. Graphic. As in they are photos of the inside of my body. I know the inside of my body is pretty gross. I have seen photos before. I got a 4 set during my last surgery. I don't think I posted them. Maybe I did. I don't see them though. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hmmmm</span>... Oh well. <div><br /></div><div>Honestly they look a lot like these photos. Honestly I don't really know what I am looking at. You probably don't either. Unless you are a medical professional and then - why are you reading my blog? I'm really not that interesting!</div><div><br /></div><div>So there are only 8 photos below. There should be 12, but my every amazing husband apparently scanned the same set twice and missed one set. Oops. Maybe when he goes back in to scan set 3, I'll see if he can scan in the set from last year since they are SO different. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Lol</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div>On to the photos. Now these aren't ultra sound or anything fancy like that. They are literally photos taken with a small camera that was placed inside my abdomen so that the people performing my surgery could see what they were doing without flaying my stomach open. </div><div><br /></div><div>The photos were scanned in, emailed, and then cropped so the picture quality is probably not great. Sorry.</div><div><br /></div><div>The only really cool thing I can see is that the two right bottom photos and the one left bottom photo is the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">AlloMax</span> that was attached to my diaphragm. That is the human tissue that can't be rejected, can't degrade, and has to hold up or we'll be going through surgery again. </div><div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdnaaGHmoJJp54_c0Bk7SrjG0uN8PJWxW-uJpJwy0UXH0ioL0CUUWOtwkVWVNva4EbV4hN80C8WK1OodtyZLGuNYHIqLTy990dFL_Of87sg3ujMG41QTtO-shF9zbWg3DVaJkJr22a/s1600-h/SKMBT_C25210012209360.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdnaaGHmoJJp54_c0Bk7SrjG0uN8PJWxW-uJpJwy0UXH0ioL0CUUWOtwkVWVNva4EbV4hN80C8WK1OodtyZLGuNYHIqLTy990dFL_Of87sg3ujMG41QTtO-shF9zbWg3DVaJkJr22a/s320/SKMBT_C25210012209360.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429987626766880898" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 245px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWliU74R7usWWKOGUu9rc-V0Vo7OGHkN2dFm3MoXlPZESg90y9bmO6ONa2wTHd_I_PGeTa8LfN9SKRSfJbuNzPZa7k4BF0BcPL7cJFGrRXY1CKjZnKE_CAlJSV-_VrATjKahyL_7t/s1600-h/SKMBT_C25210012209361.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWliU74R7usWWKOGUu9rc-V0Vo7OGHkN2dFm3MoXlPZESg90y9bmO6ONa2wTHd_I_PGeTa8LfN9SKRSfJbuNzPZa7k4BF0BcPL7cJFGrRXY1CKjZnKE_CAlJSV-_VrATjKahyL_7t/s320/SKMBT_C25210012209361.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429987634635916578" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 245px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Please send your positive thoughts to that gross looking piece of soggy thick paper towel thing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Josh had scanned these photos yesterday and sent them to me last night. He sent them while watching <a href="http://dsc.discovery.com/fansites/dirtyjobs/dirtyjobs.html">Dirty Jobs</a> with Mike Rowe. Now Mike Rowe is an amazing guy who I swoon over every time he comes on TV. Maybe I'll talk about him another time.</div><div><br /></div><div>The particular Dirty Jobs episode was Season 5, Episode 21. It was titled Fireworks Technician. There was an offshoot segment about a cow that has a hole in it's side that they fish inside of to study cow digestion. I couldn't watch. I felt like that cow. At least my holes got closed up. This cow has people digging in its guts daily. Sorry cow. :-(</div><div><br /></div><div>And speaking of closing of holes - that will be a nice transition for the final segment of today's blog post. </div><div><br /></div><div>I had 5 incisions last surgery. I had no stitches to close them up, just some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">steri</span> strips and about a weeks worth of healing time and they were fine. </div><div><br /></div><div>Dr. Prats used the same incision sites as last time to do this surgery. This time though he needed stitches for the one incision due to how much stretching was done with the instruments. That incision looks awful. See?</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF0xfNP5j63ZPpO2LpRNwcz8UCy63MIAb6Q7EyqmS5pRY9ypiuJ5-r_5oVwAVmFWVI7-gS4VNFxppARlWIeS16YGNYZRVD-wYnS9XWG_61vUF9NvGxN9lwdN5z2cto0BHEAqr3nyzr/s1600-h/001.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF0xfNP5j63ZPpO2LpRNwcz8UCy63MIAb6Q7EyqmS5pRY9ypiuJ5-r_5oVwAVmFWVI7-gS4VNFxppARlWIeS16YGNYZRVD-wYnS9XWG_61vUF9NvGxN9lwdN5z2cto0BHEAqr3nyzr/s320/001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430031625983709730" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>If you click on the photo it will get larger, but I just want to make sure you guys see how really gross it is! So I cropped it closer. See below.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFoach1H72TGo4nrLv0a80HiDK15GHC6eJ3SMp7GNsNPTEpM2mdSp9NkdbadpN40c4HUPQ04jtB5WNno4mRMCAnsstcZDVTv2eTT4qL-VMeWE65bhV2XL5AG07lELnC4_gMtmI4cm/s1600-h/001.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFoach1H72TGo4nrLv0a80HiDK15GHC6eJ3SMp7GNsNPTEpM2mdSp9NkdbadpN40c4HUPQ04jtB5WNno4mRMCAnsstcZDVTv2eTT4qL-VMeWE65bhV2XL5AG07lELnC4_gMtmI4cm/s320/001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430031629162937042" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">The small white piece at the bottom right of the incision is the internal stitch that has once again made its way to the surface of my stupid body. I learned my lesson <a href="http://anomalyofanorangelife.blogspot.com/2009/12/when-they-do-external-stitches.html">LAST</a> time in regards to pulling on things around incisions. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Okay, well if you didn't lose your lunch from the photos in this post KUDOS! I think these are all the gross ones for a while. Unless Josh gets those other ones scanned in and then I'll post those too. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Lol</span>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*hugs and kisses*</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">mj</span></div></div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-72317666420315862752010-01-22T12:50:00.004-05:002010-01-22T15:22:51.492-05:00First post surgery 3 follow upI planned ahead for my Thursday morning appointment and had showered the night before. Glad I did. It gave me time to put some makeup on and do my hair. I figured I might as well as least try to look cute while feeling miserable. <div><br /></div><div>Cute see?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAa1sHHPkWhUXXGsmcQPYa7_vFrZ4246nGjo9QijNTKgCJOcxZ5Q7a-cSAJGvNv8F1rXmA4dxzgY6oUi9xpXqgMbE9ToX8gsqkauQT-4yiag-MT1cgFA4_w4sptUudg8xhNiLKuAsl/s1600-h/004.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAa1sHHPkWhUXXGsmcQPYa7_vFrZ4246nGjo9QijNTKgCJOcxZ5Q7a-cSAJGvNv8F1rXmA4dxzgY6oUi9xpXqgMbE9ToX8gsqkauQT-4yiag-MT1cgFA4_w4sptUudg8xhNiLKuAsl/s320/004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429624807930971010" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Well I thought I looked cute. We also did some pictures of the not so cute parts of me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dQ9Wq926iZfgUJN3G_7QSrE7SVsO2WmSw0Gra9BdOBaa9GR0Tcx68DuQqca0aylsfXpLKq2kYN_TFNjyTsz8lZjT4IYT2fuG_Jv68lWQhQ7qF-uV4oceBuse14DcoVhQwMHhX5xV/s1600-h/006.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dQ9Wq926iZfgUJN3G_7QSrE7SVsO2WmSw0Gra9BdOBaa9GR0Tcx68DuQqca0aylsfXpLKq2kYN_TFNjyTsz8lZjT4IYT2fuG_Jv68lWQhQ7qF-uV4oceBuse14DcoVhQwMHhX5xV/s320/006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429624814825937586" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a> and a close up <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7smDmkMqpHUah7xvh4mENUdkoEVPQwE4qsleW6OuTzm_mU1fcKH0kd4V55ZJI6jeimnd54Ync3b8oUG3DozV9vyTEZ2tnlkWhHy9RBaXgU387x56bUemTemkSy2mA3GS6LRTh4VVS/s1600-h/003.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7smDmkMqpHUah7xvh4mENUdkoEVPQwE4qsleW6OuTzm_mU1fcKH0kd4V55ZJI6jeimnd54Ync3b8oUG3DozV9vyTEZ2tnlkWhHy9RBaXgU387x56bUemTemkSy2mA3GS6LRTh4VVS/s320/003.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429624821071800338" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Okay, I realize nothing looks bad. But people, please realize that all the work was done on the INSIDE. Stitches, cutting out scar tissue, yanking things, moving things, stitching more things, adding human tissue to reinforce things. Ugh. My stomach is also a big bloated, swollen mess of mush.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And you know where my almost biggest pain is from? My shoulders. They pumped so much air into my body so they could work, and it was in there for so long, that it is trapped and causing a lot of pain. Ouch and boo.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When we set off for the doctor's office I was only in a little pain, but the car ride really did me in. I couldn't even stand to check myself in and Josh had to do it for me. Got back to the room and it was the really nice nurse. Dr. Prats came in soon and we started talking. About 3 seconds into our talk I started crying. Oh god. I HATE crying in front of people. And I HATE that it probably made him feel bad.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I was just in SO MUCH PAIN. All that frustration led me to cry more and both the doctor and nurse were super sympathetic. I am very thankful they weren't upset with me. I was prescribed more pain medication - this time <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">vicodin</span> - told to come back in three weeks and to just take my time and heal. No rush, I needed to take my time and it was okay that I wasn't bouncing back immediately. This surgery was very intense with more work than anticipated.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My mom had told me all this the day before, but it made me feel better to hear it from the doctor. I know I know. Sorry mom. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">After the appointment, Josh took me home, got me all situated (can I seriously nominate him for husband of the century??) and went back to work. We agreed I'd be okay with the rest of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">percoset</span> until he got home from work. I got so bored and frustrated and keyed up yesterday I asked Josh if I could go to Target with him to get my prescription when he got home from work.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This is where my story turns kind of funny and really really gross. It made my mom laugh hysterically, but I am an even better in person story teller than on here. So you're only getting half the funniness.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Seriously, really really gross. Continue reading at your own risk. I've warned you.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Josh told me it would be too much for me to be at Target. I didn't listen.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So we get to Target and Josh goes to make a return while I lean on a cart and make my way back to the pharmacy. Josh beat me there. Even with a return *sigh*. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I sit on the bench while Josh puts in my prescription and they told us 20-25 minutes. We then worked our way back to the men's clothing section so Josh can find a new pair of wind pants. He wanted to try them on so I found a bench in the shoe section and flopped. Now Josh had told me he didn't bring his cell phone so don't go anywhere. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">After about two minutes of sitting there I HAVE to go. Like I have to poop. And it has to happen RIGHT NOW. I try as hard as I can not to poop my pants and then Josh shows up. I tell him what is going on and that we have to go RIGHT NOW. The bathroom is at the front of the store. I am at the back. I'm in pain, not as mobile, I have trouble breathing and I have to POOP. That bathroom was MILLIONS OF MILES AWAY.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We start out to the bathroom and Josh is all "are you okay? You are kinda of pale, sweaty and have goosebumps." I was like "it's because I HAVE TO GO."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I think I almost sprinted the last little bit, but I MADE IT!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And how amazing was it that the bathroom was free of all people? I think I heard angels sing. But I'm not sure because of the awful pooping I was doing. I have been taking <a href="http://www.miralax.com/miralax/consumer/default.jsp"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">miraLAX</span></a>, <a href="http://www.colacecapsules.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">colace</span></a> and <a href="http://www.benefiber.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">benefiber</span> </a>to keep things moving so I don't have any issues with all this abdominal work. For some reason Target has this effect that I always feel like I have to poop. Well apparently that combined with the above cocktail - well let's all have a silent moment for that toilet. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I feel as though although it was horrible and disgusting and all of that, that I lucked out because the bathroom had no one else in it. Just as I'm about to clean up, someone comes in. Oh god. Oh no. I am slightly weak from terrible parting of my last few meals and my body. I KNOW it smells. Oh god, I am THAT person that smells up the bathroom. I can't leave. So I figure I'll let unknown person (who I will most likely never see again, so why DO I care, but I do!) pee quick, wash their hands and leave. Nothing worse than facing the person who you almost gassed to death at the sinks.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So I am waiting and then... girlfriend in the stall two down STARTS POOPING. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">OMG</span>. So then there is the debate: do I wipe my ass, run to the sinks, wash my hands and hope she doesn't meet me out there - do I wait her out and hope her smell isn't worse than mine since I am not allowed to gag or cough - do I wipe my ass, go to the sinks and give her a nod if she meets me there? Do not laugh. If you are not a woman, or not a woman who has ever disgraced the "all ladies smell like roses and don't poop" then you just won't understand this dilemma.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I waited her out. I snuck out as soon as she was gone, washed my hands and departed the bathroom.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Josh asked how it was in there. I told him I just had to sit down.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My prescription was done, we paid and left. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I had to go home and lay down. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That was my most exciting day since surgery. Seriously. Super exciting.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Today I have done nothing. I've walked around the house a few times. I needed to do nothing today.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Tomorrow is a new day. I think I'll have less pain tomorrow. That's my plan.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*hugs and kisses*</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">mj</span></div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402003136095494286.post-11511909231634813752010-01-21T22:11:00.000-05:002010-01-21T22:11:55.871-05:00What are you allergic to?<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Some people are allergic to food. Others to the outdoors. Dust, bugs, cheese, latex, wool, certain drugs, other drugs, etc etc. I have one drug allergy. I also have an allergy to the latex free gloves. The latex ones are fine - go figure. I have a lot of skin irritations too. Thanks for that one mom!! Sensitive skin ROCKS! </span></i><div><br /></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Recently I've had an ever growing sensitivity to adhesive. Yes you read that right, adhesive. Like the stuff that helps things stick to you so you can heal. AWESOME. </span></i></div><div><br /></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">When I had my arm gouged by the dermatologist I was told to put a band aid on after with Vaseline. After like a day I was itching my band aid like crazy. When i took it off it the area was red, swollen, and there were tiny tears in in skin. THAT hurt more than where the stitches.</span></i></div><div><br /></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">So when I had surgery last <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">friday</span> that put on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">steri</span> strips and then band aids. I HAD to take them off after like a day. Red, irritated and itchy again. I tried putting on other band aids because there was still some bleeding and seeping. No go. One day later I took them off and found this.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggopaaAqbWGr8tuclCftAXX8N5K1Doo5HUXXcnGLZ1rb02DhzRrV4Oj2zgT5WggctBZf5InKHt4iXYNze2Y7DBjNRiK6PS0bJAQxVC3eQ08DYWOgrv8G7Q_BgcMo0ZHy-BRtbBwBGl/s1600-h/003.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggopaaAqbWGr8tuclCftAXX8N5K1Doo5HUXXcnGLZ1rb02DhzRrV4Oj2zgT5WggctBZf5InKHt4iXYNze2Y7DBjNRiK6PS0bJAQxVC3eQ08DYWOgrv8G7Q_BgcMo0ZHy-BRtbBwBGl/s320/003.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428602547408734770" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div></span></i></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggopaaAqbWGr8tuclCftAXX8N5K1Doo5HUXXcnGLZ1rb02DhzRrV4Oj2zgT5WggctBZf5InKHt4iXYNze2Y7DBjNRiK6PS0bJAQxVC3eQ08DYWOgrv8G7Q_BgcMo0ZHy-BRtbBwBGl/s1600-h/003.JPG"></a>Can you see right where the band aid was stuck? Want a close up? It's really nasty gross!!<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNBegyzkMIWgi8Z98WCnmm63I67YJCPQFHCvoDmKxc_MZRxZtwdDQjJU6XIhCQrStW8v4mbPLq9Z8kIxZpYr78vf9Opo6pmFhDKCz0u9P0oiwnvADrB9-nXvZrCyKp34epdMVONIaY/s1600-h/003.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNBegyzkMIWgi8Z98WCnmm63I67YJCPQFHCvoDmKxc_MZRxZtwdDQjJU6XIhCQrStW8v4mbPLq9Z8kIxZpYr78vf9Opo6pmFhDKCz0u9P0oiwnvADrB9-nXvZrCyKp34epdMVONIaY/s320/003.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428602557336714834" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Do you see those two red areas on the edge of the leftover sticky?</div><div style="text-align: center;">That is where the skin was RIPPED OFF. Seriously. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Yes that hurt a lot. I think this was like time number 83 I'd cried since Friday. At least it felt that way. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Blech</span>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This is the surgery I just can't seem to catch a break with. Recovery is still going rather rough. I'll update tomorrow hopefully all about today. It's a doozy!!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*hugs and kisses*</div><div style="text-align: left;">mj</div></div>MelissaJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07141507583279819285noreply@blogger.com0