Hair today, gone tomorrow

You know, I never loved my hair.

In fact, I was pretty sure I hated it until about four months ago when it started falling out.

In bunches.

In the shower, over the sink... on my pillow, in my food. My hair volume is about 50% of what it was earlier this year. I had my thyroid re-tested, miscellaneous bloodwork.. all normal. I eliminated common causes of hair loss, until I was left with one explanation...

Stress.

It may have triggered my follicles to cease and desist. This equally pisses me off and makes for, yep, MORE STRESS.

Brace yourselves...

Yes,  my actual head.

Notice anything BESIDES the thinning hair?

Like red prickly marks?

That was where my dermatologist shot 15 needles INTO MY HEAD.

Scalp to be exact.

I had no idea where he was going with the appointment when he asked, can I give you a steroid injection? To see if it helps your situation? To which I said, yes, whatever.. PLEASE FIX MY HAIR.

I kinda had a panic attack shortly after ... I VAGUELY remembered him asking me to collect my hair in envelopes over the next week or two, then all of a sudden the injection (that I thought was going into my arm) was aimed at my head. Oh, and the best line yet...

"this may hurt a little..."

OMFG. It paled in comparison to the, oh, 1000 or so shots I endured during my active duty in infertility.    I'd sooner shoot an intramuscular needle into my flesh blindfolded than endure this torture.

He kept injecting and injecting all over my head. My eyes started to water when he proceeded to massage my scalp.

Then he smiled sent me on my way with my homework assignment and set up my next appointment.  I am forever changed.  And I have a headache.

The only thing scarier than this visit will be the bill when it comes in the mail.

Or if I go bald. (please noooooo)

Idiot 101

I have off from work today, so trying to take advantage of the day alone to house clean and prep for Thanksgiving.

It's also one of those comical days that could easily be made into some funny yet god-awful Will Ferrell movie.

Take, for instance, my attempt to show the classy side of Shelli... and instead of just whipping out a wrinkly tablecloth to put on the Thanksgiving table, I decided to IRON the tablecloth. AND the napkins. Oh yes people, I spare no expense on turkey day... it's all first class around here. So as I am ironing an incredibly LONG tablecloth my cat decides that as I iron and push the fabric to the other side of the ironing board, he is busy making it into his bed. You would imagine my surprise after I declared "I'm done!" only to look on the other side and see my cat clawing into said tablecloth. Ugh. As I pull him off, his claws take fabric with him and he's in full sprint down the stairs with a tablecloth dragging behind him.

Yes, thank goodness I have a backup tablecloth.

Next, a trip to Starbucks to buy some Christmas Blend coffee (thank you Starbucks, for using the word "Christmas" and not changing it to "Holiday"). This blend is my favorite coffee, and the only time of year I clean up the actual coffeepot (I usually use my one-cup Keurig). So, I buy a pound and decide to get a Gingerbread Latte, but the barista must have gone foam-crazy... as I exit, I squeezed the cup lightly to hold the door for someone, and SPLAT... foam shot out of the cup and onto my shirt and chin. I HATE when that happens! Not to mention I looked like a fool.

As I am driving to another errand, yet another OMG moment... our main road in town is currently getting paved, so traffic has been horrendous with lanes being blocked off. Why they insist on doing major roadwork on the DAY BEFORE the day of Thanksgiving is beyond me. So, my side of the road is reduced to one lane (normally two lanes on each side separated by a divide). Imagine my surprise when I spy an old woman DRIVING IN FRONT of a steam roller in the CLOSED lane making tire tracks on brand new asphalt. Workers were waving at her frantically to stop and get out of the lane. What did she do???

She slowed down and waved back at them.

Aaaaahhhh, the fun has just begun. Just wait until the hi-jinks as I prepare Thanksgiving Dinner on Thursday.

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful that I still have my humor, and that even though I had some close calls today, I am still not as big as an idiot as that woman driving on freshly poured asphalt.

You HAD to pick a fight, didn't you?

First it was the Octuplet story that got my blood a'boilin. Although I didn't post about it here, most of you know how I felt about that circus via comments to others blogs. That doctor should have his license pulled, and the media given a slap on the hand for their reporting of the story. I didn't feel so much anger for Ms. Suleman, but rather feeling angry that others didn't put the breaks on her ill-conceived (no pun intended) plans.

But now.

Oh, hold me back. I just finished reading a post on Mom Logic that sent me over the edge. In fact, it so made me angry that I had to sleep on this post otherwise you all would be trying to decipher my comments between a litany of four-letter words. Not to say I won't use a few here, so be forewarned...

GINA (guest blogger), bless her heart, is probably the meanest Pro-Life advocate to ever walk the earth.

I respect women's right to choose, but I have little tolerance for pro-choicers
who expect sympathy when they have a miscarriage.

Oh really, Gina?

If you believe that pregnancy doesn't produce a baby until some magic
number (13 weeks? 20 weeks? 40?), then you must also agree that it's ridiculous
to break down in hysterics, set up a memorial website for your "angel," and seek
out a grief counselor when you start bleeding in your first trimester. After
all, you're simply talking about the loss of a conglomeration of microscopic
cells, right?! That's hardly something to cry about.

Oh, no, please SAY YOU DID NOT GO THERE Gina...

Advocate all you want, but don't come crying to me when your hypocrisy hits
you like a ton of bricks. If you are going to defend the right to abort babies,
you don't have the right to be upset when yours dies.

Ok, now I'm pissed. Are you fucking saying that I deserved five miscarriages????

First, before I go all nuclear on Gina's ass... let me say a few things so you all know where I am coming from:

I am Pro-Choice. I do not dislike people who are Pro-Life. In fact, I have respect for anyone who can stand by a belief. Our views are uniquely our own, and we have the right to defend them.

However.... BEING Pro-Choice DOES NOT mean someone is PRO-ABORTION!

Pro-Choice means I don't want the government in my fucking business. It has nothing to do with abortion. Two totally different things, Gina.

Gina, have you ever had a loss? Something tells me that you haven't. It is a soul-crushing event. And regardless of political views, I have empathy and compassion for ANYONE that experiences a loss. The fact that you DON'T tells me one thing... you are a very misguided and evil woman. Actually, you might even be a man for all I know. I just can't fathom someone writing such bullshit.

And, Mom Logic, despite your "disclaimer" at the beginning of the post, I am disappointed in you as a website. Clearly, there is a line where free speech crosses into hurtful vitriol. Something tells me that Gina being let loose is merely a tactic for page hits. Shameful.

Shameful!

Last, Gina, a few parting words... You may think my views are wrong, but at the heart of it, I am Mom and an Infertile. I have a living, beautiful son. I have had FIVE dead babies, each which I mourned and cried for. I have compassion. Therefore, I respectfully disagree with your rant, and hope that YOU NEVER experience a loss. Maybe then you will change your tune and not be so goddamn ignorant.

Gina, you have taken on a portion of the Internet that is much more unforgiving than I.

You better be ready for the backlash. You'll finally get your 15 minutes of fame I know you've been waiting for all your life.

And it ain't gonna be pretty.

Home cookin'

This post is for my sister-in-law, J.

I subscribe to Pau.la Dee.n's magazine, and look who's on this month's cover!


Southern cookin' never looked so hawt!! Sweet treats, indeed...

(Yes, we are giggling school girls in our spare time)

Step One

We have a donor.

The nurse coordinator and the donor are on vacation now, so won't have a schedule until the week of Christmas at the earliest I suppose.

I am happy, elated, nervous, and hopeful.

And in the pit of my stomach, terrified. But in a good way.

[...exhale]

One foot in front of the other

You never will get where you’re going
If you never get up on your feet
Come on, there’s a good tail wind blowing
A fast walking man is hard to beat
Put one foot in front of the other
And soon you’ll be walking cross the floor
Put one foot in front of the other
And soon you’ll be walking out the door
If you want to change your direction
If your time of life is at hand
Well don’t be the rule be the exception
A good way to start is to stand

David has been obsessed with Christmas television shows. The lyrics above, from the 1970 classic "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" (by Jules Bass). I adored this as a kid, and still do. And this song is one of my favorites... I can hear Fred Astaire singing right now.

What a simple message.

One foot in front of the other. And soon you'll be walking out the door.

Perfection in so many ways, eh?

So yeah, I didn't mean to scare you guys with my freak-out post yesterday (thank you for your supportive comments!), but it is what it is I guess. S. is in limbo with his employment, and well, that situation may either change drastically (if he's laid off soon), or improve (the job fairy finds him a suitable place to land).

On the other side of the coin, my employment (forever up in the air, as it has been for 15 years) is once again on the skids. The goal: find another job within the company that provides safe-haven (in other words, gets me thru 2009 without getting a pink slip). The technology environment is always so cyclical, and I've been laid off twice before (and found a job in-house), so this is no new news really. Just a harbinger of things to come. A situation that I DO NOT NEED when my husband's position is in jeopardy.

The good news is we've already been cutting back on expenses. The intent was to lighten the load for the donor cycle expenses, but it appears we had good timing to at least get our debt in order the last three months.

We need to re-examine our lifestyle and seriously crank back MORE just in case. And, no the donor cycle is still in play. And, yes, David will indeed have a great Christmas. Just less stuff.

Burgermeister Meisterburger is not going to rain on my parade.

Pre-Mother's Day Treat

I should explain how my weekend started on a bright and sunny Saturday morning.

It started well, I was done my morning coffee and while S. and David sat in the family room, I started twisting into a cleaning tizzy.

I finished (and folded) four loads of laundry. I organized the pantry. I cleaned the kitchen. I was sweaty and a little beat when I slumped into my recliner in the family room. Then I remembered I had to wash one last item in the laundry room in the basement.

I looked at the clock- it was only 11:20am. And, then I saw the wine refrigerator.

Ohhhhhh, a glass of wine would be great, I thought. I pulled open the door and found one of my favorite white wines and decided, what the heck, it's nearly lunchtime and I haven't had wine in a couple of weeks.

So I uncorked the bottle. Boy, was it refreshing to sip wine knowing my cleaning was done.

Problem was, S. didn't want to finish the bottle, so in my best wisdom, I decided to drink the rest.

Hmmmm, I thought. "I haven't eaten anything yet today. Boy, this wine tastes good."

You know where this is going, right?

Flashforward to about 1pm, after said bottle of wine is LONG GONE. I am woozy, I feel icky.

David and S. decide we are going to The Outback for dinner. At 4pm we are getting ready to leave and my stomach is twisting. By the time we get there, I am ravenous however, and share the onion appetizer and down a 9oz. filet mignon along with a salad and potato.

The rest of the night I feel the ickies, until.....

well..... you know.


The moral of the story:

~Don't drink a bottle of wine on an empty stomach ESPECIALLY when you don't drink wine on a regular basis.

~Don't ever order the onion appetizer when you even *think* you might be sick.

~Thank husband profusely for not drinking so as not to violate the one-parent drinking rule.

~Thank God for Sunday.

23 Years Late to the Concert

Picture this.

1984.

I was a sophomore in high school, and me, my best friend, and her older brother had tickets to see The Police in concert.

But I never got there. My Mom and Dad thought I was still "too young" to go to a concert by myself with friends. I moped around the house for days playing my "Synchronicity" album on my turntable.

Sadly, The Police would not be my first ever concert. They broke up during that tour. A year later, I went to my "first" concert. Live Aid in Philly. Bwahahaha. I have to laugh about that. My Mom thought I was too young to go to a two-hour concert across the bridge, but was okay with me going a few months later to an ALL DAY concert. Maybe she knew how historical of a concert that would be. lol.

So, after 23 years, I finally saw The Police at Boardwalk Hall in Atlantic City, NJ this past Saturday night.

I went with S. (who isn't a fan, but I love him for going anyway), my brother, and my SIL.

Let me digress, to give you some background. My parents are casino-addicted (in a good way, not the 1-800-GAMBLER way). Anyway, they are the people you see in Vegas and AC that never pay a red cent for a hotel room, meal, ticket, flight, etc, etc. High-rollers, if you will (although I still don't know how they got to that point and don't ask).

So, we all went down to AC on the casino's pocketbook. Butlered room, dinner at Gallagher's Steak House, and the concert.

So the butler brings us the tickets. And the FACE VALUE was $350 EACH. Do the math 4X$350= $1,400

Free to us.

WTF???? Are you kidding me?

So, fast forward to the concert... we get to our seats (2nd row on the side... a mere 50 feet from the stage) and we are cackling about who in their right mind would actually BUY $350 tickets. And the people in front of us turn around and wince. Yep, they actually paid that. And the people behind us. And then they all hated us and I felt like an idiot.

That aside, I really loved the concert. And I must make a few observations:

1. Sting looks younger than EVER. Dude is smokin' hot.
2. Since they have not toured in 23 years, they also must have never bothered to buy new instruments. Sting's bass looked like a 100 year old piece of driftwood you'd find on the beach. Not kidding.
3. The mean age of the audience was 45-50 years old. Also not kidding. WE were actually the YOUNGER people at the concert.
4. They can still rock out. Andy looked like he was about to have a stroke playing guitar, but Stewart was playing the drums like he was still 20.
5. Sting's son's band was the warm-up act. We did not know that until the morning after the concert after we mocked the kid all might for sounding too much like Sting. DUH.
6. Sting is hot. Did I already mention that?


So it was a very good weekend. Glad I finally made it to the concert. Better late than never, right?

Witless Wednesday

I have no ponderings or life realizations to share with you today.

Therefore, I leave you with this:


So if you are heading to Japan anytime soon, please consider bringing your own bottled water. Just a heads up. ;-)