AWOL Explanation

Sorry I’ve been AWOL for the last two months, guys. Things have been super crazy. Like, my whole world was just picked up and shaken like a snow globe. What has been going on, you ask? Well, Hubby and I have decided to build a house. And sell our house. And move in with my mom, who is also selling her house and is also building a house. What can I say, we’re a slightly crazy family. Since I’ve been absent for the past two months, I thought I would give you a rundown of what we’ve been doing.

On August 17th we got home from DC, about a week later we innocently headed out to drop off a package and drove by a development that caught our eye. This place looked awesome. After we dropped off the package, we headed back to the development and took a look around. Well, we were totally sold on the place. That weekend we took my mom out and she fell in love with the area, too. With in a week we had both reached out to our realtor friend and started looking at homes. It wasn’t long before Hubby and I began working day and night getting our house ready to be listed. There was nothing major we needed to do, but there was a ton of little stuff. Paint touch up, holes that needed to be patched, etc.

Anyway, we finally found a house plan that we absolutely love and decided to build. Meanwhile, my mom also found a house and signed a contract. She was the smart one, though, and decided to wait to put her house on the market until things were a little closer to the move in date. The next step in our crazy adventure was to start picking everything out. And I mean everything, right down to the exterior mortar color. We had about twenty, maybe even thirty, different colors to pick from. Maybe this is just my inexperience talking, but I didn’t even know they made colored mortar! Right after our second design meeting, Hubby and I met with our realtor and signed more papers to put our house up for sale.

Around this time I got a surprise in the mail. It wasn’t anything fancy or expensive, but it was a first for me. This little surprise was… My first royalties check! OMG, right? Okay, it was only $5.00, but who cares?! Not long after that mom and I headed to LA for a little trip to get away from all the craziness of selling and buying houses. Little did I know that the day after I got into LA we would get an offer on our house. We literally had our house on the market for five days before we got an offer that we accepted, which started a whole new level of crazy in our life. By this time Hubby and I had already started packing little things up and moving everything into storage. We had also moved into my moms home, so we didn’t have to worry about finding an apartment to rent while our house was being built.

That all happened a month ago, though it feels like it all started earlier in the year. Just a couple weeks ago we finished our last design meeting and got to watch as our house transitioned from a dirt lot to an outline of cement blocks to a framed house. Yes, folks, our house is now framed! Which is absolutely astonishing considering that we got this whole thing started only (only?!) two months ago. Just yesterday, Hubby and I went through our framed-in house on an electrical walk. An electrical walk, I found out, is just about deciding where outlets, switches, and lights absolutely must go. Turns out new building codes require an outlet every six feet in a room, which is absolutely awesome. Our electrical walk only took an hour, but that felt a little long when it was only 42 degrees  and we were standing in the shade most of the time. Okay, truthfully I didn’t really care about the weather, I was inside my soon to be house!

So that’s it, really. That’s what I’ve been up to these past couple of months, hopefully you can forgive me. I can’t promise a consistent update, but I can promise that I will be posting regularly for the foreseeable future. I’m sure soon I’ll include you in more drama, especially if mom sells her house soon.

Well, until next time!


Let’s Get Personal Episode 5

Last Thursday I had my second ultrasound to see how everything was going, yesterday I had an appointment with my OB/GYN to go over the results of both the ultrasound and the bloodiest that she did a million years ago. My appointment was at 2:15, but with life in the half-assed lane that didn’t happen. The first SNAFU was when they asked where my ultrasound results were, as far as I knew they were currently in my file awaiting my doctor to look over them. Turns out that they weren’t, the information was never sent over. Oh joy. An hour and a half later I finally get through all the red tape of trying to get my own medical records sent over, they usher me into a room and tell me that the doctor will be along in a moment. Five minutes later the nurse pops her head in and asks when the results were going to be sent over. I was feeling slightly homicidal at this moment. How hard is it to just fax something over?! Apparently it’s really hard, especially when you’re at a ‘rival’ hospital, to get medical information transfered in this day and age. I seriously could have gone across town to get the records and then go back my OB/GYN at this point, but I go ahead and call the doctor’s office yet again and have them fax it over. Somehow it never went through (suuuure), but this time it did go.

At this point it’s 4pm and I’m getting ready to cry from frustration and nerves, when was this going to be over? Finally the doctor comes in and takes a seat. She looked genuinely happy! There was no forced smile, no grave expression or anything like that. Hey, maybe the day wasn’t going to be totally horrible. Turns out that I was right! Best day ever yesterday! The ultrasound results show that I am 100% cyst free, something that I totally didn’t expect. My blood tests show the same thing, everything is normal. No threat of Metabolic Syndrome in the near future, no worries about imbalanced hormones, nothing abnormal at all. I would have been happy if the results show that everything had stayed the same! This girl is pretty happy today, folks!

Let’s Get Personal Episode 4

Like I promise last episode, I’ll tell you about Hubby and my’s wonderful Florida vacation a couple weeks ago. Hubby won the trip earlier this year because he’s awesome at his job (only the to 10% of the company get to go), we were both ready for a vacation at this point so we were so exited to hop in the car and drive. The way down was absolutely beautiful! Temperatures in the 70’s, sunny with beautiful fluffy clouds, it couldn’t have been a better drive down. When we got to our little condo, we unloaded our things and happily sprawled out on the couch until it was time for the a little get together so everyone can meet.

When we got ready to go over to the party, Hubby and I both noticed that the beautiful blue sky was turning an interesting gray. Florida was known for little rain storms here an there, no problem! It’ll be gorgeous in time for us to go beach crawling and sun tanning tomorrow. So, off we went to the party to booze, schmooze, and eat without a care to the weather. By the time we got back to the condo we had forgotten about the threat of rain and happily went back to reading and playing video games. Finally it was time to go to bed and sleep like the dead… until a stun grenade went off outside our window. I am not kidding when I say this, by the way. Hubby and I were both awoken by a deafening blast and a flash of light that left us blind for a few seconds. A minute later another grenade went off and the sound of a thousand bullets hitting our roof echoed around the whole condo. Right when I was ready to find a safe place to hide from the invading army I realized that it was just a rain storm… the mother of all rainstorms.

All through the night we were assaulted by deafening sounds, blinding flashes, and the thundering of the rain, by morning, I was exhausted and hoping that we weren’t floating into the ocean. After stumbling for something warm to wear (which were my jeans and a sweatshirt that I was lucky enough to pack, I went to the TV and found a news channel that basically said that the area we were in (near Pensacola and Destin) was slowly going under water. Seriously?! A few minutes later I got an alert on my phone that almost all the activities were canceled for the day and that they were going to serve lunch at the hotel. That sounded doable, Hubby and I had eaten at the hotel before and the food there was outstanding! So lunchtime rolls around and we paddle over to go see what delicacy they had prepared…. wet looking hotdogs and hamburger briquettes. That so didn’t sound appetizing when there were tons of restaurants around that had great food! So, Hubby and I loaded back up in his car and we went off to find a restaurant that got great reviews.

Remember when I said that we were stuck in a car for a few hours, well this is the beginning of that fiasco. On our way to the restaurant we noticed that there was quite a lot of water on part of the road and it was still raining, then we noticed that there weren’t any cars on the other side of the road… just a big lake. That was our first clue that we might have made a mistake. At this point, Hubby and I decide that those burgers and hotdogs were starting to look pretty good, so we try to turn around…. and find ourselves faced with a road block. The main road back to our hotel was completely underwater on one side, the side we needed to be on. No problem, right? We’ll just try some back roads, right? So wrong, they were all blocked off with a few cars floating in them. Yes, I said floating. We were so screwed. We could keep going towards the restaurant, but not back to our hotel. What else could we do?  At this point we had been driving around for about three and a half hours, almost running out of gas at one point, praying we wouldn’t get stuck, and ready to look for a hotel we could stay at for the night. Yes, the weather was bad enough that we didn’t think we were going to get back to the hotel at all that day. So off to the restaurant where we had food that was good, but it would have had to be fanfriggentastic for this whole trip to be worth it… It wasn’t, but I didn’t blame the chef for that just the weather. Finally we caught a break and noticed that the water was receding. Quickly paying our tab, we ran out to our car and drove off towards the road we needed to be on.

When we finally get to the road block we noticed that the water had not receded any, which had us a little depressed… until they started ushering traffic towards a road that had previously been blocked. Victory! It took us another hour and a half, but we made it back to our hotel. Afraid that we wouldn’t be able to leave for food, we made a quick run to Publix and then barricaded ourselves into our condo. That night, after we dried off and warmed up, Hubby and I made a pasta dish that was almost worth all the fuss we went through earlier. I’m serious, it was that good. I’ll post the recipe up soon, it was so simple to make! We actually made it twice while we were there.

The rest of the trip basically went the same way, with the rain and flooding continuing through the night and the next couple of days. On the day we headed back home the sun came out and the sky was the kind of blue that is only seen at the ocean. Little fluffy clouds puttered and made everything seem so beachy! It was a nice parting gift, but we would have enjoyed a rainy drive home rather than a whole week of rain.

The only thing that I found amazing during our trip was bonding with a wife of one of the trip winners. This woman not only had my sense of humor, she also had PCOS! I honestly don’t remember how we started talking about this, but we did and I finally felt like I wasn’t alone in the world. There was someone else out there who I could talk to! Someone who understood that I wasn’t just whining about cramps or feeling lazy, it honestly made the whole trip (at least for me).

That concludes another episode of Let’s Get Personal! See you next time!

Let’s Get Personal Episode 3

Back again! I promise this will be the last Let’s Get Personal for a few days at least.

Last Episode I talked about finding out that I might have more going on than just plain ole cysts (welcome to the half-assed lane) and that I had an upcoming appointment with an OB/GYN. Now, I don’t know about you but I don’t really look forward to visiting a doctor that pokes and prods uncomfortable areas… but for once I kinda was. Hopefully this woman would have some answers or at last a general direction to point me in so I could find some answers.

So day of my appointment comes around and I find myself sitting in a little room wondering if I should find one those fashionable paper gowns and put myself on the dissecting patient table. When the doctor came in, I immediately felt comfortable with her. She grabbed a chair and sat right in front of me and made me feel like I wasn’t wasting her time just by being there. After talking with her for about an hour, she took a look at the ultrasounds and made a noise that all but said “Ah-ha!”. Here it was, an answer!

“I believe you have Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome”

Well, duh? I have multiple cysts, so isn’t that the definition of poly cystic? Turns out that wasn’t the definition. She went on to read my file, which showed that I had a bad break down at 13 (remember that number?) and then asked how old I was when I started my cycle…. Well, 13! She wasn’t at all surprised, apparently PCOS makes women go insane. Thanks hormones, always knew I could count on you. Anyway, she goes on to tell me that I was born with this issue, that my body is unable to produce the correct amount of estrogen so it’s making do with the other sex hormone, testosterone. When that first happens, a girl’s body just goes into a tailspin of disaster. That was exactly what happened to me.

If you look at pictures of me at 12, I’m rail thin and look about three years younger. At 13? I look like the Pillsbury Dough-Boy’s little sister. Part of that was from the all-you-can-drink soda fountain in the school cafeteria (I had only drunk very watered down soda before and only on special occasions, to me this was heaven!) and a 2 dessert per child allowance. I’m kinda surprised that I didn’t get diabetes growing up with all that available sugar! Back to the real story, here. Apparently, the other part of me exploding and not being able to drop the weight (i’m pretty sure I was the only 13 year old on weight watchers at the time) was my hormones scrambling to get shit figured out.

We talked a little more about what was going on and how she wanted to try and control the symptoms, mainly with diet and hormone supplements (i’m staying on the original birth control for the moment to see if that works). The next question I asked her was about being able to have a child, not in the immediate future but in the next few years. Her answer was first to get this weight off of me (i’m still a chunky girl, not huge but i certainly could stand to lose a pound or 30). She then counseled me that I have a higher risk for Metabolic Syndrome, which basically means I have the same statistical heart attack and stroke average as a man and am five times more likely to develop diabetes than if I was at a healthier weight. At this point I was in a slight state of shock, mostly because of the whole metabolic syndrome bomb and my anxiety taking this information and deciding to throw one hell of a party. She goes on to talk about possible insulin resistance and the big C word (cancer), but then explains that she just wanted me to not be blind sided if test results pointed to that one-in-a-thousand chance possibility.

So, with lab paperwork in hand, and the words Metabolic Syndrome and Cancer ping-ponging around my brain, I head over to get seven vials of blood drawn. Yes, I said seven. I don’t think I ever had to give that much blood before, especially not for tests. I finally get to my car and call Hubby to tell him everything. I am thankful every day that I met this man, he’s my rock for everything. After popping a xanax and having him talk me down from my emotional ledge, I sign off with him and give my mom a call. Being another woman, she understood everything that I was saying. By the time I got home I was in a much better place, mentally at least.

At that time, my Super Mom decided to come over to my house and help me pack for a work trip Hubby and I were going on. Did I say help me pack? I meant to say her pack while I sat down and approved outfits (i didn’t have any choice from her, it was kind of nice to have that stress off my back). With that done, she gave me a kiss on the forehead and told me that everything’s going to be all right. Now, I don’t know about you but I’m a total mommy’s girl at heart, hearing her say that made my world right for the moment. Does that ever happen to you?

I’ll tell you about our wonderful interesting trip to Florida next time. I think you’ll like it, it involves being stuck in a car for five hours and rain.

Let’s Get Personal

So I thought I would let you get a better peak into my life in a little installment called Let’s Get Personal.

About seven months ago I had what polite people would call a break down, I called it going bat crap crazy. Hubby agreed with me and we both thought it best to go see my shrink. After telling him what was going on, he prescribe me with an antidepressant and a low dose of as needed Xanax. His diagnosis? Anxiety with underlying depression. To me, this made sense. So I went home and began my new daily pill regimen. Things were going great for about three months, then my life started falling a part again. Truthfully, I thought that this was just how it was suppose to be. I know better now, but at the time I just pasted on my Everything-Is-All-Right face and did my best to trudge on.

A couple months ago I hit a serious ‘reality pothole’. Just an hour after I got home from taking Buddha the bulldog to the vet I suddenly doubled over in absolute pain, like my spleen just ruptured kind of pain. Not knowing if it was a serious problem or not, I went to my local walk-in clinic to figure out if something did rupture of if I was just having worse cramps than normal (yep, my cramps were up there with something might rupture. that’s normal, right?). The nice doctor there couldn’t really find anything wrong, but there was no denying that there was something wrong. Her diagnosis, at the time, was a uterine infection (I told you we were getting personal). Once she explained that these things can lie dormant for a while and then BAM! you’re doubled over wondering what rabid animal just eviscerated you, I thought that this was probably what was going on. With a shot of fast acting antibiotics in my hip (which hurt) and a bottle of horse pills in my purse, I went home with instructions to go to my doctor if I got worse or developed a fever.

I started feeling better the next day, but as you can imagine life dealt me another glancing blow (another dadism). A few days later I was lying in bed, alternately shivering and burning all through the night. In the morning I felt like I had been hit by a truck and I was still shivering, on a whim I took my temperature. 101.2. Yikes! Where did that come from? It was far too early to call for an appointment (I had woken up at 6 to get ready for a 7am work out), so I crawled back into bed and let my imagination run wild with what could possibly be wrong. When the doctor’s office opened, I made the first available appointment and headed over to see if, as my husband is fond if saying, my uterus was going to fall out. By that time my fever had broken so I almost felt silly for going in, but it was too late to back out. After a few questions and some prodding and poking, my doctor said that there was no infection but before she diagnosed anything I was to get my butt over to this radiologist for an ultrasound. Soooo, off I go to the other side of town and wait for yet another person to poke and prod me. With that done, I go back home and crawl back into bed to wait.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m not one of those people who can have a test done and wait with out a thought for the results. No, I sit there wondering what was going on, when would I get the results, and all sorts of fun things that my anxiety was having a total field day with. Three days later I finally get the call. The diagnosis was… Cysts. A few ovarian cysts on each side. Okay… what the hell does that mean? Apparently it just means that I have cysts, though Web MD assures me that I’m going to get cancer and die. Thanks, Web MD! Always knew I could count on you to settle my anxiety.

More on my run in with a reality pothole in my next installment of “Let’s Get Personal”