Lawyers, Guns, and Money

Dispatches from The Great Comforter War of 2012

2012-01-28T15:12:00.001-06:00

So the mister has been at a conference in Chicago for the last few days which has left me alone with The Woof. As a treat to our Woofbaby, we let her sleep in bed if one of us is gone. You would think that in a contest of wills between a 60 pound dog and a much bigger human, that the much bigger human will win the bed battle. My opponent did not give in so easily.

On the first night, Woofer decided to make a nest for herself out of the comforter. This left little for me which is a problem since *I* like to wrap myself up in the comforter. Thus began our epic struggle. The beauty of being human is having opposable thumbs and the ability to yank the comforter. Sure I heard a whimper, but I got my blanket back. And, bonus time--as a peace offering, Woofling decided to cuddle up next to me and keep me warm. Awwwwww. Too bad the next two nights she turned on the snoring and tried to push me out of bed. I think we'll have to call this installment of the Comforter War a draw.

Time to reflect

2012-01-09T17:57:00.006-06:00

I've been left alone with a computer and a blogging platform. With time to think. This is a dangerous situation often leading to stream of consciousness blogging. Tonight's entry is no different.

Every year about this time, I get reflective. I think about the previous year--what went right, what went wrong, what I'd do differently. I think about the future, and what I want to accomplish. Still feeling warm and fuzzy from all that time with family, I think about how blessed I am with people who love me. This year was no different.

The last few years have been full of change. Just when I think I've got the situation under control, something else pops up. I've been left feeling like my life is a giant game of Whack A Mole, with problems instead of stuffed animals. I'm fortunate that none of my problems have turned out to be disasters, but I've been left feeling a little dizzy, tired and overwhelmed by it all.

Things really reached a low point for me last fall. The mister and I were at ND and had just finished a run around the lakes, one of my favorite places. I thought to myself how young the students we passed on the run looked. How bright-eyed and earnest, ready to take on the world. That was once me, I thought to myself.

And then I thought some more, how far I'd fallen from that point. I was in a job I disliked, doing work that simply paid the bills, dealing with difficult personalities and allowing my health to suffer. Back when I was a student I had so many plans about how I'd be successful and give back to my community. And here I was, ten years later. I wasn't successful and wasn't really helping my community. How did my life get so far off track? But really, I guess that's true for all of us. We had such clear ideas of how our lives would unfold. And now that I look back, things haven't quite worked out the way we'd planned for any of us. We all carry our battle scars--some scars are visible while others are hidden from prying eyes. But they are there. And I, for one, know that I'm stronger for those scars. I know what I'm made of. Having experienced disappointment, I know how great it feels to succeed. Having felt sorrow, I can appreciate joy. And above all, I know that when things are bad, those who love me will always be there for me. And really, sometimes that love is all that is needed to get out of a bad situation.

While at ND that weekend, I learned I'd been selected to share my struggle with ulcerative colitis to raise research money and awareness. Finally, I was doing something good for the world. Then, after returning from ND, I applied for a new job. On paper, it was perfect for me. But was I perfect for it? Lucky for me, someone thought I was. Just when I was hitting my low point, a new door opened. I've thought I had perfect jobs before and I am hesitant to make that mistake again. But for now, this is an improvement, and I'm realizing that there is no such thing as a "perfect" job. There's just good enough for right now. And right now, I'm finally able to catch my breath. My health is better and I'm much happier. I'm doing work that's fulfilling and I'm able to share my health struggles to help out others. It would be nice if 2012 could be a year that I rest and fully recover, since I know life is going to throw more curveballs at me in the future, but I need to remember that I'm not the one running this show. I just have to believe in God's plan and hang on for the ride.

"Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." ~A.A. Milne.

Click click bloody click PANCAKES!

2012-01-03T19:53:00.000-06:00

Or, why I run:

Thank you Runner's World!

You asked for this America!

2011-12-11T20:18:00.002-06:00

And now I'm an IBD Icon. But my faithful readers already knew I had iconic status, of course. Naturally. I didn't need a title to confirm my status, but a title is nice of course. Too bad my title didn't come with a tiara. But it did come with a trip to Vegas, so I suppose that will do as a nice substitute. (And I have the t-shirt to prove it!) Of course, if any of my faithful subjects want to send me a tiara, it wouldn't be refused.

This whole experience has just overwhelming. We spent last weekend in Las Vegas as part of the Rock n' Roll Marathon. The Crohn's and Colitis Foundation was the charity partner for this race and the runners participating in Team Challenge (CCFA's fundraising program) raised $4.5 million for research. On Saturday evening, we all attended the pasta dinner for the 1,300 runners who had trained for weeks and spent hours and hours raising money for research. I'm incredibly grateful--thanks to their efforts, I have a much brighter future than my dad ever had. And I've been inspired to participate in Team Challenge as well, so you've been warned as I'm pretty sure I have email addresses for all my readers so I can reach you for fundraising appeals. In addition, there were 150,000+ votes in the IBD Icons program, and we raised another $20,000 for research. At the pasta dinner, the mister and I sat with the other IBD Icon (Doug) and his family as well as Casey Abrams and his family. Casey is really nice and so are his parents, so please think about supporting him as he tries to establish himself in his music career. He's really putting himself out there by being so open about his illness and is really helping all of us out. And his music is really pretty good!

On Sunday, we went to the pre-race concert and Doug and I were introduced as IBD Icons at the end of Casey's concert. The mister continues to tease me that I had my queen wave down pat. (Hello, THIS is why I need a tiara!) We were going to try to wait around for the start of the marathon as Mike McCready (who has Crohn's) of Pearl Jam was performing the National Anthem but it was cold and we were afraid of getting trapped by all the runners and not making it back to our hotel. So we watched on TV instead.

The trip really was amazing and Vegas is incredible. However, we learned we aren't really built for Vegas--we were in bed by 10 each night. We had dinner reservations at 8 one evening and I had to take a nap before dinner. Pathetic. I think we'll need to stick to our hiking vacations!

Thank you all so much for your support in this endeavor and sending me on this trip. You have been there for me through it all and I couldn't do this with out you. As I've said before, I was pretty hesitant to share my story. But I know I had to do it, and hopefully it will help someone else out there know that there's life after IBD. There are some things I can't do, but there are more things that I can do. This disease is not the death sentence I thought it was when I received my diagnosis. I don't know what my future holds but as long as I'm healthy, I owe it to myself (and to my dad's memory) to live life to the fullest as long as I possibly can. And I've realized through this experience that these diseases are bigger than me and my family--there are a lot of fellow travellers on this path and we owe it to each other to help each other out.

[Cue Lean on Me playing in the background and fade to black ]

A danger to myself and others

2011-11-28T18:02:00.000-06:00

I have reached a new low in coming up with ways to hurt myself accidentally. If you thought the pie server incident was Jeteriffic, oh just you wait to read through this post.

First was Saturday night while I was asleep. I had this really really vivid dream where I bit my lip. When I woke up, I still remembered this dream. I have weird vivid dreams frequently, so this wasn't all that strange. What was strange was that I could feel my lip where I'd bitten it. Silly dream. Um, except the biting part? Yeah, that actually happened. Add in some blood thinners and my lip looks awesome.

Next was this morning. Somehow I slipped on our deck on a tiny patch of ice. My knees took the brunt of impact (though the coffee I was carrying to work was safe!) Um, yeah, skinned knees don't look hot on a kid learning to ride a bike and don't look hot on me either. Especially since remember that whole coumadin thing? Based on this morning's events, I've decided to skip my run. I'm just trying to build up natural padding to cushion my next fall.

It is a good thing you all know me well enough not to be surprised by these stories. The mister may be calling some of you to vouch that he is not the source of my flesh wounds! (And domestic violence is absolutely not funny. Just want to make sure you all know that I know that. But me being an idiot? Yeah, that is pretty darned funny, so laugh away!)

Same old story

2011-11-15T18:01:00.000-06:00

The new job has started and all seems well. I don't want to say too much in case I jinx it, as I thought the last job (and the one before that!) were perfect for me as well. So far it appears to be what I was looking for, and so I am cautiously optimistic.

One major drawback is our prescription drug coverage. Asacol, which has worked beautifully for me for NINE years is not on the formulary. What.The.****. So, my options are to switch to one of the other "substitute" drugs (one of which I think might have caused a serious reaction for my dad) or I can pay for it out of pocket. Luckily, in 2012 they are supposed to permit patients to purchase non-formulary drugs for $100. It's three times the name-brand copay (no generic, as Asacol is still under patent protection) but that's still waaaaay less than full-price. It does make me angry since Asacol is such a basic drug in treating IBD.

Oh. And I forgot to mention. Viagra is covered. Because ED treatment is more important than keeping my inflamed colon slightly less inflamed.

There's no place like home

2011-10-31T09:59:00.002-05:00

I'm in-between jobs right now (start the new job on Wednesday--yay!) so I took a few days to visit Megs and her kids in DC. I had a great time catching up and Megs was a super host. Our paths don't cross as often as I'd like since our families are in different cities and our circle of friends is pretty much done with weddings, so it was great to catch up with Megs and some other friends in the DC area.

On my flight home, my body was doing its best to expel a lung (of all the weeks in the year, this had to be the week I caught a cold!) so I spent a lot of time looking out the window in an attempt to not breathe on my fellow passengers. Taking off from Reagan National, I could see all the DC landmarks and I felt a little twinge of jealousy, wishing that my career path had taken me to DC--it has always been one of those cities that the mister and I have on a short list of places that we'll move to in a heartbeat if the opportunity presents itself.

Despite my status as one of the Infected, the passenger in the seat next to me struck up a conversation--he had noticed my class ring and asked if it was an ND ring. Funny how that can start conversations! He was a Georgetown grad, in DC for a meeting. As we talked and I learned more about my fellow passenger, I began to suspect that he was an acquaintance of an acquaintance who I had heard many good things over the years. As we left the plane and finally provided our names, my suspicions proved correct, and I told my seatmate of our connection. What a small world--what are the odds that on a completely full flight I'd be seated next to this person? The mutual acquaintances were my first non-work friend here in Kansas City and my professional mentor here in town. It felt like all my local connections were coming together at once and really made me realize that Kansas City is where I'm supposed to be at this point in my life. I may not be here forever, and that's OK--having moved a lot as a child, I'm open to new places. But right now, this is where I belong. Kansas City is home right now.

If only I had a pair of ruby slippers to go along with this new realization.

You'd think I'd know better by now

2011-10-23T11:31:00.000-05:00

Life is a cruel teacher. Lessons that we need to be learned just keep on repeating themselves. Like, for example, not eating unidentified substances.

Earlier this week, we had soup for dinner. It was really good. While watching TV after dinner, the mister and I had some wine. I noticed something on the outside of my wine glass. I assumed it was soup transfer so I went to eat it.

It was not soup. It was soap.

I immediately proceeded to scrub out my mouth to get rid of that taste. Ewwwwwwwww.

But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need

2011-10-09T16:16:00.000-05:00

For the first time in months, I'm having a great Sunday afternoon. I'm not looking through job postings, I'm not trying to craft the "perfect" cover letter that won't be read. I'm not worrying about whether that law degree was worth the time, money or effort and I don't have a pit in my stomach worrying about tomorrow.

I have a new job. Finally. No more billable hours.

This job won't be perfect, but I think it is where I need to be now. I'm very excited--now just have to get through the next two weeks and get everything wrapped up at my current job. It will be a busy two weeks and it is going to be a lot of work to get things organized for my replacement, but it is going to be worth it.

Team Katie

2011-10-03T20:00:00.000-05:00

I know. Here I go again.

By now nearly all of you should have been touched by my ~~email barrage~~ PR campaign for the IBD Icons program. In case you missed it (or deleted all my announcements!) I'm a finalist in a program to raise money and awareness for Crohn's disease and ulcerative colitis. There's no limit to the number of times you can vote, so go to www.ibdicons.com and vote for me. In case you forgot, I'm Katie and I'm from Kansas City. My picture is on the left side, but you also have to pick someone from the right side.

[WARNING: mushy sentimental stuff ahead!]

I have blogged before about how hesitant I have been to share my health problems. Sharing means admitting that there's a chink in my armor. I like to believe that I'm some superhero who can rise above everything, and it has been hard to admit that my gut believes otherwise. You, dear readers, gave me the strength to share my story. Over the years I've seen you share your struggles and you gave me the courage to tell my story publicly. I've seen the hope you've given perfect strangers, and I want to do the same thing for others. When I was diagnosed, I really felt like I had been given a death sentence. My dad had died only four years earlier of the same disease and I didn't want that to happen to me. I made a vow that even if I died young like he did, I was going to make sure I lived with no regrets. If I had been able to see these stories of people living full and wonderful lives, I think that would have helped me process my diagnosis. True, I'm still worried that I'll get some employment backlash down the road, but I do believe that I'm doing the right thing.

You all have supported me so much on this road. You were the ones who spent time with me when I didn't want to talk but listened to me when I needed to talk. You gave me strength when I didn't think I could keep going. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Now go vote. A lot. And tell everybody. My colon thanks you.

Underachievers

2011-09-11T16:28:00.000-05:00

This post is not directly about Notre Dame football, although after last night, the title certainly applies. I'm not yet at the point where I can talk about last night's game without using very colorful language. Consequently, since family and children have access to this blog, I think it is best to refrain from such a post.

No, this post is all about Notre Dame's awesome ad campaign during football season which asks "What would you fight for?" It really is great to hear about ND alums out changing the world and really making a difference, really. I'm glad I'm part of a community where people are trying to make this world a better place. It just makes me feel really worthless when all I do all day long is draft foreclosure paperwork and try to collect debts. The mister and I even wonder at the start of each game, how we're going to be feel bad about ourselves THIS week.

The funny thing is that when we were in South Bend last week, we met up with friends who have the same thoughts about this ad campaign. What's funny is that these friends are so not underachievers. G and P are people who I really respect and who I think ARE making the world a better place. If even they think they are underachieving, what hope do the mister and I have? Or maybe none of us are underachieving. That's the message I prefer.

Overheard

2011-09-10T13:04:00.000-05:00

The Mister: Awww, you're wearing the necklace I got you!

Me: Of course. It's pretty and sparkly and I like it.

The Mister: But you have other pretty necklaces you could wear. You don't have to wear that one just because it is new.

Me: I know. But I like this one. It is the Buzz Lightyear of necklaces. Grandma's pearls are Woody.

The Mister: Let's just hope that the pearls don't get jealous.

[Oh yeah. Gotta love references to the original Toy Story. I'm awesome.]

Coal in my stocking

2011-09-05T11:39:00.000-05:00

I have long maintained that the Notre Dame opener is like Christmas morning. Everything is so perfect and wonderful and full of promise.

Except when you get coal. Or underwear. Or socks.

After this weekend's game, I feel like I got coal. Apparently, we Domers have been very bad this offseason and don't deserve a good present. Waaaaah.

I think I need another beer...

In the bag

2011-08-07T18:18:00.002-05:00

The mister and I have now made three summertime trips to Colorado. During each of these trips, the goal was to summit a peak over 14,000 feet (a 14er for short). The first attempt was foiled by weather--a steady rain had settled into the valley the day of our hike, which made the hike too dangerous to attempt. The second trip occurred shortly after the diagnosis of Blood Clot 1.0 (I'm still working on clever names for my clots--feel free to leave suggestions in the comments!) and since I was on vicodin and limping throughout the trip, we decided a 14er was a bad idea. To be honest, I wasn't sure we were going to bag our 14er this trip either--on our second day in Colorado we went on a 13 mile death march over a mountain pass that left me quite sore. Plus there was Blood Clot 2.0 and we all know how coordinated I am--a fall on a mountaintop is generally bad, but especially bad for someone who (by design) does not have blood that clots. Despite my doubts, we did it and hiked to the summit of Quandary Peak, just south of Breckenridge.

Photographic evidence of your favorite blogger at the summit of Quandary Peak

The view at the top was amazing and the feeling of accomplishment made the hike worthwhile, which I am sure was not at all related to the lack of oxygen at the top. Seriously though, we had a beautiful day for a hike and were able to enjoy some time at the summit to soak up the view. I'm never going to give up my insistence on the necessity for indoor plumbing, but there is something calming about spending time with nature. To me, the majesty and beauty of it all is the ultimate sign of God's handiwork, although hot showers are a very close second!

In other news, Nickey asked in the comments for the last post which marathon I'm planning on running. I wish I had an answer. A lot will depend on how my fall training goes. I'm planning on running the KC half here in October, so I'll have a better idea how I'm doing at that point. If everything goes great, I might try to run Disney or Miami in January. If things don't go as well, I might look to run a marathon later in the year. If that's the case, I might run St. Louis which has the advantage of being close and I hear the Clydesdales are out when you run by the brewery. Of course it has the disadvantage of significant hills and even my adoration of cute work horses probably won't make those hills go away. Watch this space for updates.

Time to face facts

2011-07-27T21:25:00.000-05:00

Ahab had his whale. I have the marathon.

Once again, I've been foiled. My body simply does not understand that life is not a democracy. It is a dictatorship, benevolent at best, and is supposed to be ruled by my mind. But that's not happening. Between time off for my plantar fascia to de-swell (I'm no medical person, I will make up words when it suits me) and time off when the blood clot caused my leg to swell like a balloon, I don't have the mileage base to run a marathon this fall. So, I'll run another half, and maybe get my base up enough to run a marathon in spring 2012.

This is really getting old. But, in the grand scheme of things, if the worst I have to deal with right now is not running my marathon this fall, I've got a pretty darn good life. I'll take it*.

*Fear not, this is NOT a promise that I'll stop whining. Whining is just what I do, and I'm sooooooo good at it! You'd miss it, really, you would.

Sorry Mom

2011-07-24T19:39:00.000-05:00

I was born in September 1980. In Oklahoma. For most of you readers, this probably means nothing. However, apparently 1980 was really really really hot for a really really really long time. As in all those records we're approaching this summer? They were set that summer.

So anyways, being the first kid, I've heard my entire life just how much my mom suffered being pregnant with me when it was soooooo hot. Being the obnoxious brat I am, I just called my mom weak (and I wonder why I get all the bad karma? Hmmmmmm.) Well yeah, after this summer, I can see how it would not have been fun. Whoops.

And while I'm on the subject of Oklahoma moms, a big shout out to the lovely Barbara Brown, mother and mother-in-law of my college friends G and P. She's my very first follower! Now the rest of you, get with the program.

Pot meet kettle

2011-07-02T13:50:00.000-05:00

Everyone has some sort of language pet peeve. I'm talking about those phrases that sound like fingernails on a chalkboard. My personal pet peeve is the misuse of the apostrophe. This is very interesting, because I have no such problem with my constant misuse of the apostrophe's little sibling, the comma.

The misuse I'm talking about is the tendency to form a plural by adding by adding an apostrophe followed by an "s". This makes me want to scream. Why this particular error annoys me so much, I don't know. Even a casual reader of this blog knows that my grammar is far from perfect.

Anyways, this week I sent a friend in town a basic email to RSVP for a brunch she is hosting. While reading her reply to some questions I had asked, I noticed that I had committed a very grave sin. Yes, I had formed the plural of "Friday" as "Friday's". There was no alternate meaning. There was no way that I was using a possessive form of Friday.

Somewhere, Strunk and White* are rolling over in their graves while a panda weeps**.

*The Elements of Style is my favorite style guide. Too bad I clearly have failed to learn all its lessons.
**A reference to Eats, Shoots & Leaves. It is hilarious. Imagine Strunk and White with a sense of humour. (Who doesn't love British spelling?)

Apparently I'm a jogger

2011-06-29T20:08:00.000-05:00

One of the bloggers at Runners World has a recurring joke about joggers. See, every time a runner gets hurt s/he is referred to by the media as a "jogger". The take away, clearly, is to never call yourself a jogger--if you do, you are just asking to be run over by a car or suffer some other horrific fate.

Because I really don't like getting hurt, I try to always consider myself a runner. (Well that, and I have dreams of someday magically changing my DNA so that I become Kenyan. Not very likely to happen.) So last Friday, I went for my first outside run since early May. Despite calling this adventure a run, pulling up my running skirt and lacing my running shoes, fate misheard me and thought I was on a jog.

Dear reader, you can guess where this is going. Slightly over a mile in to my run (er, jog), I tripped on a very slightly uneven sidewalk. I did a full face plant and have road rash on my chin to prove it. Lovely. Plus, remember those posts about blood thinners? Um, yeah, let's just say I was a beautiful sight, with blood streaming down my chin and covering my arms.

Luckily, flesh wounds heal--just ask the Black Knight if you don't believe me--and I'm pretty much back to normal. But really, Running Gods--I am not a jogger. Please make note of this very important fact for future reference.

Time to cut back on the treats

2011-06-26T19:19:00.000-05:00

I've blogged before about Lisa's weight issues. OK, so I was a little defensive, and prefer to call her "big boned" but still. I will admit that she would benefit from a few more walks and fewer treats. It also probably wouldn't be bad for her to have less food, although the way she carries on our neighbors probably think we beat her.

[We do not beat our dog. At all. She thinks we're cruel for not letting her outside on the uninsulated sun porch when extreme temperatures make it unbearable. We also don't give her pizza, because we want to eat our own pizza. Oh and the worst? Sometimes we run upstairs for brief periods of 5 minutes. This requires much crying.]

Anyways, proof of Lisa's weight issues was provided when our next door neighbor told us that her daughter wants one of Lisa's puppies. Kay explained to her daughter that Lisa probably couldn't have puppies (she can't, at least according to papers provided to us when we bought her!) but the little girl is insistent. Poor thing. Lisa is just fat. We have tried to explain this to Lisa and have tried to use this as the incentive she needs to begin an exercise program, but apparently being fat doesn't carry the same stigma for dogs. Who knew?

College wasn't THAT long ago!

2011-06-12T17:18:00.000-05:00

While socializing recently with my next door neighbor, a pharmacy student in her early twenties, our conversation turned to local watering holes. I commented that her choice for celebrating her 21st birthday was a bar I really liked because it reminded me of college parties. My neighbor said how great it was that this particular bar plays fun nineties music. She then paused and said to me, "Wait, did you say it reminds you of college? You didn't go to college during the nineties! Did you? That was a long time ago."

The downside is that my neighbor thinks 1999 was a long time ago. The plus side is she doesn't think I'm old enough to have been in college at the time. Sigh.

This sequel is just as bad as the original

2011-06-08T18:54:00.002-05:00

Apparently, the Rat Poison Manufacturing Association decided their sales were too low and therefore, I needed to take one for the team and start coumadin again. My body decided that it did not want to run the intended marathon this fall so these two entities decided that a win-win solution would be...(drum roll please)...for me to throw a clot in my left leg! Yes kids, this was my "good" leg.

On the plus side, I didn't have to get admitted to the hospital this time. I'm not in pain, but the swelling can be a bit uncomfortable at times. I have to give myself shots for a week or so, which I still do not like.

The down side should be obvious--I've got a freakin' clot in my leg and no one knows why. And, as my doctor told me, one clot they can write off as bad luck, at two they really start to worry. So, I'm being sent off to a hematologist to try to figure out an answer. I really hope so because no answer means that I may be on coumadin long-term. For someone who falls down the stairs or runs into her desk or the wall or the coffee table almost daily, long-term blood thinner use isn't a very pleasant prospect.

Watch this space for more whining. So much for 2011 being My Year.

How to make sure your child requires years of therapy

2011-05-21T13:50:00.000-05:00

Part One
I am scared to mow my yard.

There. I said it. I am terrified of the lawnmower.

I blame this all on my parents. When I was very young, they had me go inside when my dad was mowing the lawn so I didn't get hit by a rock and die. Well that's what dad said. Mom pointed out this might scare a four year old, so dad changed his story. It then became I had to go inside so I didn't suffer brain trauma which would prevent me from getting in to Notre Dame and providing access to football tickets. Oh alright, so I might be exaggerating. But I know for sure there was something about getting hurt by flying rocks which still terrifies me.

Part Two
I sleep with my arms underneath me. I then wrap myself in blankets. You will never, ever see my limbs dangling over the bed. Why, you ask? Well the alligators might get me. Let me explain...

As a child, my dad thought it would be funny to tell me alligators lived under my bed and I had to be careful when I got out of bed that the alligators would not get me. He then told me about Captain Hook, who wasn't very careful and lost his hand with a watch. When dad tucked me in at night, he'd remind me of the alligators by saying "tick, tock" as he walked away. Dad thought this was hilarious because I didn't react to any of this. Mom kept warning dad that three year olds believe things like alligators, but dad was convinced that I didn't believe any of it. Except I did, but I didn't want to show any fear. So instead, I tucked my arms underneath me so the alligators couldn't get me.

It was years before I admitted that as a kid I thought there were alligators that could get me. I am fully aware that there are no alligators under my bed, but old habits die hard. Tick, tock.

Return of the gimp

2011-05-14T17:29:00.001-05:00

For those of you just joining this program, I have a history of making poor life choices. Here's the story of yet another one of those poor choices.

Our story begins two weeks ago when I took The Woof on a death march around the block. Woofbaby does not like to walk but we're trying to make sure she doesn't die of a heart attack before her time. Anyways, I stepped on one of those round spiky things that fall from trees. My toe and heel were on the ground and my arch was over the spiky thing. Ouch. The pain intensified over the course of the next few hours, but I ignored it.

The next morning I ran 10.5 miles. My foot still hurt, but not too bad so I didn't think it was worth stopping. Plus, I was a week away from a half-marathon that I was NOT going to skip. As anyone with any common sense could have guessed, the pain got worse over the next week. Reasonable people might have not run the half, but I am not reasonable. Thanks to my stupidity and the miracle of Biofreeze, I got through the half with my best time since 2009! All was well until the next morning when I could not put any weight on my bad foot. It was so bad that in the airport on the way home I was asked if I wanted a wheelchair. I declined because it is SO much less embarrassing to hobble on one's own power than be pushed through an airport. Right.

Anyways, the one quasi-reasonable thing I did do was to go to my doctor to make sure this was not a stress fracture situation. It is not--instead, I've got plantar fascitis. No high heels and no running until the pain goes away. Waaaaaaah. Oh, and when I said I was happy that it was not a stress fracture so that I could still run a full marathon in the fall, my doctor just laughed. I probably should have paid attention to the literature stating that average recovery time is six (6!) months. Double waaaaaaaah.

Someday I'll run a marathon. Really. I swear. Just you wait.

The girl who cried wolf

2011-05-04T18:49:00.000-05:00

So all my worrying and hand-wringing was for naught. I went to the doctor this week, all is well, and NO NEED to add new meds! Yay! Plus I'm on a faster taper so I get off the prednisone faster than I thought.

Don't worry dear reader. I will flog myself appropriately for making a big deal about nothing and will go back to your regularly scheduled programming of full denial that I have any health issues at all.

Roids!

2011-04-27T20:19:00.000-05:00

Just call me Barry Bonds.

Oh OK, I know. Predisone is NOT an anabolic steroid and will not make me ripped. I had to throw that out there for the nurses.

Prednisone does, however, still have some "fun" side effects. So far I'm on week two of this round (only ten more to go before I'm done) and I'm managing. No moon face yet and the munchies aren't too bad. I am, however, not sleeping well. It takes me a lot longer to fall asleep at night and it is harder to stay asleep. The lack of sleep alone makes me grouchy. On the plus side, the mood swings haven't been too bad. I find that I'm irritated very easily, but that's a far cry from some of my less than stellar moments previously brought to you by prednisone. The Mister would be happy to share those stories with you, but since this is a family blog, I'll keep stories of my crazy outbursts to myself.

Overall, the side effects are probably the most minor they've ever been at this dose, so I'll take it, especially since I'm finally feeling better. I did a 9.5 mile long run last Saturday that FINALLY felt good--I actually felt like I had the stamina to finish. Woohoo! I had really begun to wonder if I'd be able to finish my upcoming half but now I've put that fear to rest.

I go back to the doctor next week--here's hoping that Humira/Remicade don't get mentioned again. Long-term repeated steroid use makes me nervous, but so do needles. Plus, for the last ten years I've been hearing that I'm not really sick. First it was that I could not possibly have Crohn's/Colitis because I didn't look sick. Then, once I was diagnosed, well it wasn't that bad. I wasn't REALLY sick, just kinda sick. Immune suppressants were for people who were sick. Then, when I had my blood transfusions and needed to add an immune suppressant, well I was just temporarily kinda sick. Humira and Remicade were for the people who were really sick.

What does that make me now?

"That Guy" is me

2011-04-04T21:13:00.001-05:00

I always hate those people who leave a treadmill at the gym and expect the world to hold the treadmill. They're jerks. Except today I joined their ranks.

In my defense, I submit that it has been a rough week or so. Last week was the one year anniversary of The Meeting where I learned I did not have a future at my old firm. Plus my gut has realized since the weather is warm, that means it is time for prednisone! Yay! (Not. And even better is the fact that when I went to go see my doctor today, he mentioned that the next step is adding either Remicade or Humira to my medications. I promptly broke out in hives and had to explain to him why I was clearly freaking out, as every time I flare up and have additional medications mentioned, I worry that I'm going to end up like my dad. Not fun.)

Anyways, on today's run, I had to go take care of, um, business. So I paused the treadmill and ran to the bathroom. While I was gone, someone else took my treadmill. And yes, it was MY treadmill so I insisted the guy give it back to me. Which he grudgingly did.

I have absolutely no doubt that I have invited some pretty nasty karmic retribution to come my way. Place your bets.

Smarter than she looks

2011-03-11T18:35:00.000-06:00

So I know I regularly comment about how "special" my four-legged baby is to me. I mean, she protects from all sorts of dangers, like new wine racks. She also regularly proves the effects of gravity, like when her pee runs downhill and ends up all over her. Oh, and let's not forget how she proves the law of momentum when her forward progress causes her to collide with the wall because she hasn't learned after a year that she can't stop on a dime on hardwood floors. She also reminds me that the mailman is scary and that she wants to move next door with "her Jackie". And let's not forget the most important lesson of all: let nothing, NOTHING, interfere with naptime. Home invasions be damned, her first priority is to sleep, then eat, then MAYBE protect the house and it is human inhabitants. But only if those humans have turkey or peanut butter or something else tasty.

Despite all this, I've now realized that Lisa does indeed have some common sense. You see, for the last week I have been battling that fun wintertime event known as The Crud. You know, that cold that just lingers for a week or so. To give you an idea of how I feel, I haven't run since LAST Wednesday. Instead, I've spent a lot of time laying on the couch, hacking away. During this time, did Lisa come comfort or cuddle with me? Heck no--she just looked at me like she wanted nothing to do with me. She did the same last year when I had salmonella--she stayed far, far away from me and gave me this look that clearly said "I don't want what you have, crazy lady". Keep in mind that normally she's a dog who likes nothing better than to snuggle with her people on the couch*. Apparently, Lisa has very strong survival instincts and doesn't want to get sick. Maybe she's not so "special" after all.

*Although she'd prefer it if she were snuggling next to Jackie, our next door neighbor, who is perfect in every way according to our dog. No, really--you should see the way Lisa reacts when she sees her Jackie.

The next great battle: March vs. August

2011-03-05T16:34:00.000-06:00

I have not kept my hatred of the month of August a secret. Since 1998, I've been whining about why the 8th month is the worst month of the year. In case you missed it, however, here's a summary of why I hate August.

I'd always thought that August's grip on this title was ironclad, but now there is a new contender. March started showing interest in the title last year. Between a job loss and salmonella (complete with a fun ER visit!) March 2010 was not the most fun ever. March 2011 is trying to shape up to be just as great. We found out that a tree in our backyard needs to be removed and the first bid was for $11,000. We knew the tree was dying but that was twice what we had planned on for removal. Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch. Luckily later bids have come in at less, so maybe March won't gain any ground on August this year.

I have some explaining to do

2011-02-06T16:04:00.000-06:00

Now that I have taken control of my blog from my dog (she let her guard down to sleep), I figured I'd update you faithful readers regarding the new blog design. As you may have guessed, I was not the designer of the new header (the key is the lack of stick figures as that's all I know how to create). Meghan Anderson apparently got sick of looking at my boring old template and made me an awesome new one. Thanks Megs! I think between the new template and finally buying an iPod (seriously, it is awesome for running--why did I wait so long!) I might now be firmly in 2005 from a technology perspective. At least I've joined the 21st century!

The view from down below

2011-02-06T14:08:00.002-06:00

Hi everyone. It is Lisa down here. The world looks different when you are less than two feet tall. Especially when your bathroom is covered in snow drifts taller than you are. Have I mentioned that's not very much fun? My people are just so cruel. They could choose to live somewhere temperate WITHOUT snow, but no, they claim they have to work and have to stay where mommy has a job. Jerks.

Also, while I have your attention, I'd like to point out something in my defense. See, my people like to say that I am proof Darwin was wrong. Something about how bulldogs wouldn't survive without human intervention. Totally untrue. I mean, look at how hardy those Georgia mascots are. Oh. Wait.

Anyways, I think my mommy is just trying to distract from her own poor life choices. See, she is the true proof that Darwin was wrong. So far this winter she has gone to the gym TWICE in the midst of winter storm warnings. God forbid she miss a workout. And, she was far from the only crazed lunatic. What is with those runners? And why are there so many of them--if they choose to drive in bad weather, shouldn't natural selection have some effect on them? But then again, what do I know? I'm just a dog.

Stupid East Coast Bias

2011-02-01T13:07:00.001-06:00

So, KC is in the midst of a blizzard. I even left work at noon today because KC lacks any sort of snow removal equipment and my street appears to be dead last for snow removal. My car does well when it is slick (yay negative center of gravity!) but it doesn't have the clearance to handle snow drifts.

Anyways, I'm grumpy because (a) it is cold and (b) this storm lacks a cool name. "Snowmaggedon" and "Snowpocalypse" were already taken by those fancy schmancy East Coasters. So what are we left with? Just plain old vanilla "blizzard". I want a funny nickname, darn it!

The year of questions and answers

2011-01-12T17:43:00.000-06:00

Hmmm. It has been a while. Sorry about that. And in case you are wondering, USC still has sanctions. And ND beat USC this year. Just wanted to remind everyone.

In other news, another year has come and gone. No big fun celebrations this year--I spent the week between Christmas and New Year's assisting with a jury trial. And then I got a cold on New Year's Eve and spent NYE and New Year's day on the couch, trying to recover. Par-tay! In some respects, this oh-so-glamorous celebration (nothing says sexy like flannel pj's and the sniffles) was a good representation of 2010, a year that I'm very glad to have behind me.

Sure, I know I said the same thing about 2009. When I said goodbye to that year, I was sure to have that pesky blood clot and associated health items behind me. I was FINALLY going to break 1:50 in the half-marathon and was going to run my first marathon. I was going to exceed my hours and earn a kick-ass bonus. 2010 was going to be GREAT! In fact, as 2009 came to a close, all I could think of was a quote from Zora Neale Hurston's book Their Eyes Were Watching God: "There are years that ask questions and years that answer." 2009 had asked me some questions and 2010 was sure to be full of answers. Turns out, I was partially right. 2010 did give me some answers, but only after I had to answer a few more questions about myself and what was important to me.

As I entered 2010, I considered myself to be defined by two things: my job and running. I had managed to land a job as an associate in a big firm and I thought I had made it in the world. I was certain that my dad would be proud of me. A sharecropper's granddaughter was now a bigshot attorney. True, I didn't really like what I was doing and I was miserable, but I made a lot of money and I worked at what I considered to be a prestigious firm. Happiness was overrated. I could provide for my family in the manner in which we wished to live. Sure, I had to go to Mexico where I had no cell phone service in order to ever relax, I worked every holiday and at least one day each weekend, but it didn't matter. I was a success! And, on top of it all, I was becoming a darned good runner. Not bad for a former fat kid who got out first in dodge ball every time. True, running was my one escape from work and from the ever-present but irrational fear that the disease that killed my dad was going to kill me too, but it worked. A sick person doesn't run 20+ miles a week, right? My view was that as long as I was running, I wasn't sick. Instead, I was a perfectly healthy young successful attorney with a great husband and a super adorable dog. Who wouldn't want my life?

Now, dear reader, you have probably already picked up how warped this world view was. But I'm really not that smart and didn't see what headed my way in March. That was the month that I caught salmonella and didn't eat solid food for a week. Then, just as I was feeling better, I found out I was losing the fancy job that I was willing to sacrifice everything for.

These were my questions. What did I want out of life now? I had failed at the job that I always said I had wanted. I was terrified that somewhere my dad was disappointed in me. I felt like I had let my husband down. I said I would provide for us, and then I didn't hold up my end of the deal. I remembered what it was like when my dad lost his job when I was a kid. It was scary and I wanted to protect the mister from that at all costs. And on top of that, the salmonella left me too weak to even walk a mile, much less run. About this time I also was diagnosed with mild anemia, which didn't help the running. I had always dealt with my emotions by running and now that was gone. Was I doomed to become the fat kid? Would I ever run again?

It was tough. I know that others have had far worse years and I tried to keep my minor difficulties in perspective. I berated myself for my emotions and for feeling down. It seemed that to be upset about what I lost meant that I wasn't being appreciative of what I had. I tried to list my blessings and to remember that I had people who loved me and cared for me no matter what. But all I could think of was that someday they wouldn't love me. I worried that those people would go away. That I really would lose everything.

In the end, I got lucky. Very lucky. I found a job that I really do like and was able to start immediately after leaving my old job. I have a much more balanced life now, where my work is just a part of me instead of being me. I'm not where I was with running, but I think I appreciate running more than I did before--I was starting to take it for granted. I still use it as an escape at times, but at least I appreciate that escape. Basically, I have a much better idea of what I'm made of. I know that I'm resourceful and that I'm a survivor. All those questions I had about myself were answered.

And the most important question I had was answered. I know that my dad is looking down on me and is proud of who I am.

Did you hear?

2010-11-27T09:52:00.000-06:00

USC has sanctions.

GO IRISH!

ClotGirl rides again!

2010-11-23T22:00:00.000-06:00

No Megs, no clot. I haven't seen the new Harry Potter yet, and when I do, I'll wear compression stockings just in case.

"ClotGirl" is apparently my new nickname from my in-laws. I guess a few clots and almost a year on blood thinners make me worthy of a nickname. I am happy to report that I finished a half-marathon this weekend and my lower leg did NOT swell up like a balloon! Yippee! My time wasn't spectacular (2:10) but I finished and it felt good and it was fun. Considering that just six months ago I was so weak and anemic that I couldn't even run a single mile, I'm satisfied with stringing together 13.1 ten-minute miles in a single race. I finally feel like I am back on track. The plan is to run another half in the spring and focus on my time, but for now I'm just recovering and cross-training.

I did get lucky that we had fabulous weather. End of November in KC can sometimes be a bit dicey, but it was fairly warm and not rainy. It was a little windy, but not too bad. My mom came up from Oklahoma to watch and I think she enjoyed it. The race had a smaller field than some of the other races I've run in town, but it was on trails so it was pretty nice. The race once again reminded me of what I like best about the sport of running--there are people who are competitive and who are trying to do their best, but they are also out there to support one another. I was reminded of this when I saw a fifteen year old running her first half (yeah, she beat me, oh well) with her dad--she was out having fun and everyone around her was cheering her on. It was really cool to watch. Non-runners often ask me why I run--right there sums it all up for me.

So, who's joining me in May?

Dear Harry Potter

2010-11-07T18:06:00.000-06:00

I saw the trailer for your new movie. It looks really good. I am very excited to go see it, just like I've seen all your other movies and read all your books.

I do have one favor to ask you, however. See, when I went to see your last movie, I ended up with a blood clot. That was really not very much fun. I mean, I doubt it is as bad as having the biggest, baddest evil wizard of all time out to kill me, but it really wasn't something I want to experience again. So, can we make a deal? No blood clots? That would really be awesome.

Hugs and kisses,
Goirishkj

Hmmmmm...

2010-10-03T13:17:00.000-05:00

I am notorious for bringing leftovers back to the office, putting them in the office fridge, and forgetting about them. I think I am the reason all offices I've worked in have weekly fridge cleanouts.

Anyways, last week I went to Cheesecake Factory for lunch with some colleagues. They got dessert, and lacking any sort of backbone with which to resist peer pressure as it relates to dessert, I ordered some sort of red velvet/cheesecake hybrid. I couldn't eat it all at once so I brought it back to the office. And then promptly forgot about it for a week.

When I remembered, of course I went to eat it. And it was still moist and as fabulous as ever. Now, it was in the fridge for a week, but it is still somewhat frightening to me that a week later my cake still tasted good. This just proves that Cheesecake Factory puts something unnatural in their desserts, so unnatural that I don't care what it probably did to my body.

Someone get that squirrel a sandwich

2010-09-24T18:33:00.000-05:00

Supposedly there are lots of squirrels around our house. I say "supposedly" because I'm used to chubby Notre Dame squirrels that look more like small dogs. No, really--it may have been beyond cold up there, but those squirrels lived the good life. Apparently, Kansas City is not the good life. I even asked the mister what he thought was wrong with our squirrels because they all looked like they were malnourished. I was informed that what we have in our yard is what a squirrel is supposed to resemble in the wild. Who knew?

Thirty and fabulous!

2010-09-14T18:21:00.000-05:00

Like many women my age, I have probably watched too many Sex and the City episodes. That fact will probably go a long ways to understanding what follows.

Whatever the reason, I've always thought that when I hit thirty, I'd have my act together. I would run a marathon. I'd be smart, successful, witty and would have a closet full of great shoes. My life would certainly be headed somewhere. This milestone birthday was the center of my series of five-year plans. Oh yes--I was probably the only kindergartner with a single five-year plan, much less multiple plans. Sure, some of the details changed over the years--when Congress permitted women to serve in certain combat roles, there went my plan to be the first female fighter pilot. Well that and the realization that flight school meant surviving SEAR school and that well, have you seen my thoughts on camping lately? Overall, my plans were a clear progression--I needed to do certain things in junior high to do certain things in high school so that I could go to Notre Dame and then on to graduate school.

Beginning with my 18th birthday, my plans all started to fall apart. Two weeks before that milestone, my dad died. I was a senior in high school. Dad was well-insured, but we didn't know how the receipt of life insurance would affect my financial aid eligibility. All of a sudden, my plans were in disarray--how was I going to pay for college?!?!?!?! But I figured it out--I applied for, and received, a ROTC scholarship to attend the University of Notre Dame. The plan was still on track.

Right before I turned 22, there was another shocker, as I was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease. Since the navy doesn't like to deploy people with chronic illnesses that flare up due to stress to the far-reaches of the globe, I was out. New plan: find a job with four months left to graduation and apply to grad school a little early. Done.

You would think by this point I would have learned to let the plans go. But I just couldn't. New plan was to work my behind off at a big firm and make partner some day. Last spring I realized that wasn't going to happen. I was devastated. What about the plan? Thirty was coming up and I had to be fabulous with a fabulous career. And that's when I started to realize it--I already was fabulous. Sure, my life now is not what I ever imagined it would have been when I was creating all those five year plans. Instead, life is so much better than I ever imagined it could be. I have accomplished a lot and and proud of those accomplishments. I AM smart, witty and cute. I have an am.a.zing husband. I have people who love me and care about me no matter what. I know who I am and what I stand for. I have been through difficult times and have come out stronger and I'm surrounded by amazing people who got me through the bad times. Hopefully I do the same for those friends. I don't need a big firm job or to have run a marathon or to be able to wear spike heels without tripping. I don't need the closet of trendy shoes to be fabulous. I am just fine the way I am. I am confident and I am happy and I AM fabulous.

Overheard

2010-09-10T20:02:00.000-05:00

Lisa: Arf, arf, arf, woof!

The mister: Now Lisa, don't be scared of the cooler. That's to remind Daddy not to forget to get Mommy's ice cream in Lawrence tomorrow. Mommy might never talk to Daddy again if he fails to get Mommy black raspberry chip ice cream from Graeter's to celebrate her 30th birthday.

Me: No, I'd talk to you. I'd tell you to get in the car and GO GET MY ICE CREAM! You only turn 30 once.

Author's Note: The mister did not forget my ice cream. I'm going to be enjoying black raspberry chip with hot fudge shortly. And I know my birthday isn't for a few days, but I'm milking this for all it is worth.

Dear August: It's on, b****

2010-09-03T16:34:00.000-05:00

Hi. Remember me? The one you continue to try to mess with every year?

First it was my dad. Then my mom's diagnosis of lupus. Then my diagnosis of that same disease that killed my dad. Then my blood clot.

Do you really have to keep messing with me?

The car wreck with my mom wasn't funny. Thankfully, she's fine. But really, the tire blowout? Not cool August. Not cool at all.

You now stand absolutely chance of ever making it back into my good graces.

Hugs and kisses,
Goirishkj

Woofzilla, Destroyer of Worlds

2010-08-21T11:30:00.000-05:00

I have created a monster.

At the beginning of the month, the mister took two weeks to go camping in Wyoming. I did not go, as I believe running water separates us from the animals. And I'm quite happy being separated from the animals. Nature can be experienced from a luxury condo with a shower.

While the mister was gone, I decided to let Lisa sleep with me. She's a bit of a bed hog. I'm also a bit of a bed hog. Add in the mister (who is not a bed hog, but is a full grown male human) and the three of us don't fit in our queen bed, so Lisa normally sleeps in her crate. Anyways, two weeks of sleeping in a bed changed Lisa. No longer is she content in her crate. Nooooo, now when we say bedtime, she runs to the bedroom and sits at the doorway.

On the plus side, I'm pretty sure now the dog finally likes me.

Four miles never felt so good

2010-08-01T14:09:00.000-05:00

I did it! I finally ran four miles without stopping and kept up a ten-minute pace! Now, this is certainly not any kind of record, but it has just been so long since I could do even this basic run. I am finally starting to get my endurance back and it really feels great. I had taken these short easy runs for granted in my pursuit of longer and longer distances and I had forgotten the simple joys of running. And yes, I did just use joy and running in the same sentence and yes, that was intentional.

In other news around here, the new job is still working out. The new position is a much better overall fit for me and I wish I had made the move long ago. Had I been honest with myself, I would have realized quite a while ago that the old job just wasn't for me. I recently had a friend tell me that she had noticed that I never truly seemed happy with my old job. This woman is around a lot of lawyers and she was able to pick up that I didn't get as excited about my practice as the other lawyers she knew. And she was absolutely right--I wasn't excited about my old job. I was excited that I had finally achieved what I considered to be "success". I finally had something to brag about to family and friends. And I could tell myself that all my hard work had finally paid off and I had something tangible to show for all those years of school.

The thing I didn't consider during all of this, however, was that success doesn't have just one definition. What good was my definition of "success" if I was miserable? Sure the pay was really nice--the vacations, the restaurants, the shoes. Who wouldn't like that? But it just isn't worth it. Yes, I took a 50% paycut for my new job which has been an adjustment. But it is worth it. I'm finally happy. Successful? Well, we'll see about that. I have finally started to understand that success means an awful lot of things and I've got a whole lifetime to achieve success. Check back with me in 50 years.

Put me in coach, I'm ready to play

2010-07-09T15:43:00.000-05:00

Exciting times around here, let me tell you.

Last Friday, I had my very first trial. It was a bench trial, and absent judicial misconduct, we couldn't lose. As in, the other side had already admitted full liability. But, the judge wanted live testimony as to the amounts we were owed, and when you wear the robe, you get to make the rules. My boss was on vacation through Thursday and kept going back and forth as to whether or not I should go to court. Obviously, I had to prepare as though I'd be going in case she didn't get back in time. She made it, but by that time I was ready to go. So I begged and pleaded (professionally, of course) to be allowed to try the case. She agreed I was ready and off I went. And I won! Of course, it is easy to win when the other side calls no witnesses, asks no questions of your own witness and you have the full weight of the law on your side. Oh and while the law is nice, I had my grandma's pearls, my great-grandma's diamond earrings, a locket from my dad and three inch heels. I was unbeatable. Now, true, it was my first time and it got a little rough at times. Evidence wasn't my best class in law school and three years of non-use didn't help my understanding of hearsay exceptions.

In the end though, a win is a win and I needed no excuse to celebrate all last weekend. And then, while I nursed a hangover (oh scotch, why do you hate me so much? I love you--why can't you return the love?), the mister and my super-duper father-in-law put in a new tile floor in the upstairs bathroom. This involved quite a bit of work as our toilet was apparently unsupported, so they had to basically rebuild the floor. Or something like that. As I told my father-in-law, there's nothing like celebrating our country's freedom from its colonial overlords like subjecting family members to indentured servitude.

Death of an urbanite

2010-06-27T11:36:00.001-05:00

Before we bought our house, we lived downtown. And I worked downtown. I didn't own a car for my own use (the mister and I shared) and I walked everywhere. And I told everyone I walked. I was so obnoxious and arrogant, but it was truly glorious.

Then we bought a house. In the 'burbs. I justified this to myself by saying it is an older suburb so that makes it ok. Which is true--the houses on our street were all built in the 1930's. But, it is still a suburb.

Then I switched jobs. New office is in a suburban office park, at the southwest corner of an intersection. So, without thinking, what do I do when I get my first paycheck? I get in my car and DRIVE to the northeast corner of the SAME intersection. And driving seemed normal until I got out of the car and realized what I had done.

There is much self-loathing still going on. But I think I need to accept that the urbanite in me is dead. I still draw the line at holiday sweaters. I refuse to wear them.

Evidence

2010-05-16T13:35:00.001-05:00

In which I explain two of life's mysteries

2010-05-16T13:13:00.000-05:00

Mystery No. 1

About a week ago, the mister started acting really funny about me getting things out of the food/freezer whenever we were making dinner. I thought he was just being obnoxious about not wanting me to cook. I don't really cook at all, but I will at least get out ingredients and such. A few years back I almost took off the end of my thumb with a pie server (it has a serrated edge people!) and so I still get teased. Anyways, this week the mystery was solved--the mister was hiding baking ingredients for the strawberry cake he made me for our anniversary. I think he has earned another seven years for that one.

Mystery No. 2

As you may remember, I've been whining for a few weeks now about how my runs just haven't been going very well. I'm fine for the first five minutes, but then I get really weak and feel like I can't breathe. I've also been REALLY tired lately and just have felt not so great recently. I'd been blaming this on all the stress I've been under lately combined with recovering from salmonella. The thing that had started to concern me was that my runs got better, then worse. Plus, I'll sleep a good 8+ hours and won't feel rested AT ALL and on the weekends I'll sleep 12 hours and take a nap and still be passed out by 10 pm! Anyways, I think I have an answer. Apparently my body seems to think that warm weather=iron supplements. Yep, I'm anemic. Again. I found out last week when I went in to get my protime/INR tested. My doctor wanted to do a CBC as well and my hemoglobin was 9.7. Obviously, that number isn't as bad as it has been in the past--it was 6.3 when I had my transfusions several years ago--but I can't help but think it might explain some of my fatigue. Anyways, I go back tomorrow to get an iron study done and to try to figure out what is going on and hopefully I will start feeling a little better and will be running again soon.

The girl who cried marathon

2010-05-03T18:57:00.000-05:00

Kinda like the boy who cried wolf. Or Chicken Little. Or whatever your favorite fable is about not saying something untrue over and over again or people won't believe you when you finally are right.

So anyways, those of you following this are probably sick and tired of hearing about my marathon plans. First it was the KC marathon, then a little blood clot got in the way. Then it was the Montreal Marathon, but I spurned that marathon for the sexy suitor that is the Marine Corps Marathon. (I mean, have you seen their dress uniforms? Oh wait, we're still talking marathons. Right. Um, moving on...)

Well now I've had to revise my plans yet again. The last six weeks have been pretty stressful. First there was salmonella. I didn't eat solid food for a week and ended up in the ER for dehydration. As I have discovered the hard way, not eating for a week does very bad things for running. I'm struggling still to run two miles at a time. Each run gets better, but it is slow-going. In addition to the post-salmonella recovery, I've been dealing with an upcoming job change. I'm excited about the opportunity I now have, but to say it has been stressful would be a major understatement. So, in order to give my body the best chance to actually finish 26.2 miles, I'm now looking at a Spring 2011 marathon. I'm thinking St. Louis since there's family close by and it wouldn't be too hard to travel to.

Megs, you've got family in STL too now--you know you want to come run it with me!

That reminds me...

2010-04-14T20:13:00.000-05:00

So the mister finally posted pictures from my goddaughter's baptism. Seriously, isn't she absolutely adorable? Not that I'm biased, of course.

Anyways, the baptism picture reminded me of a rant that I've been sitting on for a while. Oh come on. You know you like a good rant. So, I'll just get this soapbox dusted off and climb up on it. Ready? Here goes.

Why do godfathers get to head up international crime syndicates while godmothers have to be fat old women whose only purpose is to turn pumpkins into carriages?

I mean really. I could be Michael Corleone. I could direct my lackeys to make people offers they can't refuse (Keira, don't worry, I'm stocking up on horse heads, just in case!) Oooooh, a lackey. I want a lackey! I mean don't get me wrong. Magic is nice. Machiavelli wasn't exploring all options when he said it was better to be feared than loved. Fear plus magic? Seriously, I'd be invincible. But if I had to choose, I'd ditch the magic, since you know, magic isn't real.

Sigh.

Dancing Queen

2010-04-11T16:16:00.000-05:00

This weekend we decided to introduce Lisa to the wonder that is Abba. You see, every good Notre Dame student is required to get on his or her feet the minute the first notes of Dancing Queen start to play. Thems the rules. I don't make the rules, I just play by them. So anyways, while watching Mamma Mia on Friday night, the mister and I thought it would be funny to introduce Lisa to these rules. Yup, we picked her up and danced with her. Unfortunately, there are no pictures. And now Lisa is scared of all things Swedish. Except maybe meatballs. I think she'd make an exception there.

We're getting the band back together!

2010-03-13T17:46:00.000-06:00

So there's been a slight change in plans. As you might remember, I was going to run the Montreal marathon this fall to get in my marathon before turning 30 this September. I received clearance from my doctor to begin training and was all set to go until I spent last weekend in DC for my goddaughter's baptism. (More on that later when I upload pictures. And yes, for those of you snickering as you read this, I WAS able to state that I reject evil. Not all lawyers are completely evil, OK?) Anyways, we spent the weekend with very dear friends from college, one of whom is planning on running the Marine Corps Marathon on Halloween. And so, a plan was hatched. How perfect would it be for us to get our college buddies together and run a marathon together! I was hooked on the idea, so instead of celebrating the end of my twenties with a marathon, I'm going to celebrate the beginning of my thirties.

For any other college friends who read this and would be interested in running with us, send me an email. We're thinking about running as a team so come on and join us.

Look at this face...

2010-02-28T16:09:00.001-06:00

Could you deny this face turkey? Could you live with yourself if you did? The reason I ask (oh yeah, this is Lisa the dog, by the way) is that my evil owners no longer have meat in the house. No more turkey. No more bacon. And no more of that yummy meat called prosciutto. Oh I miss that the most. Not that they gave me any of if, but it sure it looked good. A girl can dream, right?

Anyways, my parents decided to give up meat for Lent. (Query: should I even keep calling them parents with the awful treatment I receive? Calling them "parents" makes it sound as though they like me, and clearly, that's not the case.) They claim this was all about making them think about the resources they use and to force them to consider how lucky they are that they've never truly experienced hunger and that they've never had to wonder where their next meal is coming from. Typical liberal hippie gobbledey gook if you ask me, but no one ever asks me. They keep saying Lent is temporary but I don't buy it. Look, first they tell me I have no soul and then they insist I follow this no meat thing? Totally unfair!

So please. Pretty pretty pretty please with bacon on top. Save me from these monsters.

Things not to say

2010-02-03T21:19:00.000-06:00

NOTE: In the grand scheme of Stupid Things People Say, the following story is very trivial and minor. But trivial and minor sums up this blog, so here goes.

As background, yesterday I had my ultrasound follow up to find out if there's still a clot in my leg. Bad news is that after six months of Coumadin, I still have a blood clot. Grrrr. Good news is that there is some more blood flow in my leg than there was in September when some mysterious swelling prompted an immediate ultrasound. Still waiting to hear from my doctor about next steps--at my follow up appointment prior to the ultrasound, she did indicate that for some people, clots never go away. Hopefully, this one will eventually dissolve, but who knows.

Anyways, during my ultrasound, I told the tech the same boring story. How I'm a runner so I thought I had a muscle injury. How I ignored the pain for 2.5 weeks. How I even did easy runs because I thought my injury was starting to heal. How I wore a compression bandage, thinking it was a muscle sprain. You know, the basics. Not fewer than ten times did the tech say she couldn't believe I was allowed to run and how stupid the doctors must have been to let me run.

Seriously, the anti-running tirade seemed to go on for. ev. er. It was kinda awful and I was really getting sick of the whole thing. I mean, I'm pretty sure the ultrasound tech was not a MD (or DO--my GP is actually a DO and I think she's great. Oh and don't forget NPs. They rock too.) Finally, the tech admitted that she just thought runners were crazy and didn't understand why ANYONE would run. OK, fine. Lots of people think runners are crazy. Maybe we are a bit touched in the head. But there are lots of hobbies out there that I just don't get--too many to list here--and I don't let my biases clearly annoy a patient.

So, there you have it. Don't tell a runner she's crazy, even if she probably is a bit crazy. And certainly don't try to use medicine as a shield for your own personal belief that running is crazy because you'll really just tick off the patient and become an object of a ridiculous and pointless blog post.

Irresponsibility. That's my policy.

2010-01-24T19:30:00.000-06:00

Have I mentioned lately how much I dislike winter? I mean REALLY dislike it? I don't like the cold, I don't like gray skies and I really don't like snow. At all.

With that in mind, what's the perfectly logical thing to do with that first-time homebuyers credit? Surely, yours truly would do the practical, responsible thing and use that money to continue to fix up the house, buy new windows, that sort of thing. Right?

You people don't know me very well at all. Remember what I said about winter? I need to get out of this place. So, today the mister and I booked a trip to Mexico. It just makes winter so much more bearable knowing that this spring I get to escape for a week.

House Fail

2010-01-17T16:07:00.000-06:00

I'm the worst homeowner ever.

Exhibit A: Our attempt at Christmas lights. We have nicknamed our house "Charlie Brown Christmas House" as it reminds us of that sad pathetic Christmas tree in the Peanuts Christmas special. Oh well, the message was all about NOT focusing on the material aspects of the season, right? Oh and did I mention all our Christmas decorations are still up? Yup, we're that guy. Although, in our pathetic defense, I submit that most of our neighbors still have their decorations up.

Exhibit B: One sad pathetic wreath on the front door makes it all OK, right?

Exhibit C: No picture, so you'll have to make do with a written description. I wasn't very good with the rules of evidence anyways. We have 15 paper lawn bags filled with leaves sitting on our back deck. We wrote the wrong date down for leaf pickup and didn't get our leaves out in time. Now add two feet of snow and imagine what shape paper bags are in as the snow melts. Yup, those leaves are going to have to be rebagged.

Our neighbors have to hate us.

Take my breath away...

2010-01-09T17:59:00.000-06:00

No this is not a sappy ode to the mister and how crazy in love we are after 6+ years of marriage. I mean we are still in love and all that, but posting about it really isn't my style. Although now that I said it, I guess I did just post about it, so now I'm a hypocrite. Add hypocrisy to my list of faults.

Anyways, as usual, I've digressed, and in the first paragraph too. That has GOT to be a record! The point of this post is to tell you about our first experience with the negative side of home ownership. Yup, we had our first malfunction and it was a doozy. On one of the coldest days KC has had in twenty years, our furnace stopped working. And no, the pilot light had not gone out or anything we could have fixed ourselves. It turned out that the blower stopped working so the furnace shut itself down to prevent the furnace from blowing up. Lovely. So, while I escaped to work, the mister stayed home with the dog to wait for the repair guy.

To make things even more fun, we were supposed to receive a home warranty when we bought the house. Due to a colossal screw up on the part of the seller's agent, the seller's warranty was not converted into a home warranty at closing. We found about this on Wednesday when the furnace first started making funny noises and we first tried to get someone out to look at the furnace. When the furnace stopped working, we really couldn't wait any longer to get the warranty issues straightened out, so we had to call someone out ourselves and pay out of pocket. Luckily, we have an amazing agent who spent a large chunk of her time on Friday trying to get this issue resolved on our behalf--we WILL be getting reimbursed for our costs. Seriously, if any readers are looking to buy/sell real estate in KC, let me know so that I can pass on our agent's information.

The bottom line is that we're fine. No pipes burst, and the dog survived, although I insisted that the dog wear her sweater all day. The mister had a rough day--you aren't supposed to see your breath inside your house. I tried to tell him it was karmic retribution for taking me on a winter camping trip all those years ago but he disagrees.

The Peanuts gang decides to decorate a house

2009-12-19T11:49:00.000-06:00

Seriously, that's what my house looks like. Think "Charlie Brown Christmas Tree" but on a house. This is the first year that we've had a house to decorate and the lights look a little pathetic. As in we ran out, had to go buy more, couldn't find ones that match, and have gaps in the lights. Classy. We have a wreath on the door, but it isn't quite enough to make up for the lights. To make everything worse, we live on a street full of adorable Tudorbethan (yes, real phrase from the mister's PhD advisor--apparently, what we yanks call "Tudor" is really a style that was common in both the Tudor years and into Elizabeth I's reign, and so we should really call it "Tudorbethan") houses with people who actually know how to decorate. The other houses look so adorable, and then, well, then there's our house. Do we get any points for trying?

Just passing through, nothing to see, move along now

2009-12-14T22:57:00.000-06:00

Last week the mister was playing around with Blogger's "next" feature and found a very funny and very sarcastic take on ulcerative colitis and other digestive issues and shared it with me when I got home from work. One post that really caught my attention and has kept me thinking all week was this blogger's post on "passing". In the chronic illness sense, "passing" means the ability to be mistaken for a completely healthy person with no health issues. This really struck me because 99% of the time it is not clear that I have an illness of any kind. Sure, if you see my horse pills or if you found any pictures taken of me in the fall of 2003 when I dealt with serious anemia (in case you were wondering, it is NOT a good thing to lose half your blood volume), then you might have a clue that something was not quite right. But otherwise, I look and act completely normal. I run, I drink, I overeat, I love Mexican food--you get the picture. On the one hand, passing is great. It gives me control over who I tell about my illness and how much I want to divulge. Chronic digestive issues aren't exactly the sort of thing that you bring up when introducing yourself to someone new. I mean, can you imagine? "Hi, I'm Goirishkj. My gut hates me and is full of sores that cause all sorts of awful symptoms. Oh and my dad died of this disease when I was 18. Ain't life grand!" Right.

On the other hand, of course, passing comes with its own problems. Case in point: it took a year and a half to be diagnosed because I didn't "look" sick. The other problem with passing is that while I don't want to be pitied and most of the time, I really don't want to talk about my illness, there are days when I just feel awful and really don't have any tolerance for other people. You have seasonal allergies? Boohoo, I haven't slept in days due to steroids. You feel a little bloated from a weekend of partying? I was too exhausted to stay up for the evening news. Annoyed that your parents interrupted your favorite show last night with a telephone call? Do. Not. Go. There.

I think it all boils down to the fact that while I want others to understand what I do go through (and yes, I know how incredibly lucky that what I have is very much treatable and manageable, something I remind myself of several times a day), I don't want to talk about my illness. And that's where the biggest problem with passing comes into play. If I could just get over myself, I could use my experience to educate others about this disease and its effects. To do that, I have to fully accept what it means to have a chronic illness, and I do not know that I am there yet. So, until I am, I guess I'll just keep on passing through.

The Eleventh Hour

2009-11-11T23:18:00.001-06:00

Thank you veterans.

Flight of the Bumblebee

2009-11-11T21:05:00.000-06:00

Sorry for the blurry picture--I'm sure the mister will upload some better pictures someday. This was right after we put Lisa's costume on so she was less than thrilled. She did grow to accept Halloween since she got lots of attention. I think she's still mad she didn't get any chocolate. Can you believe we didn't want to kill our dog? Sheesh. Anyways, things have been a bit crazy here. The mister has been busy securing his position among the intelligentsia while your humble servant has been slaving away for the man. Speaking of, this has probably been enough frivolity. Back to work...

Compromises

2009-10-26T21:20:00.000-05:00

Halloween is almost upon us. The mister is psyched that we have a house on a street with kids and that there is a reason to have Halloween candy. The first year we were married he claimed kids would come to our apartment complex. Not a single child showed up, so we were left with several bags of candy. I succumb to temptation easily so that was not cool. Anyways, that was the last of the candy. Until now. Let's hope that we manage to guess right and don't overbuy.

In other Halloween news, I decided that Lisa needed a costume. I really really really wanted to make her a ballerina or a fairy or a princess. Come on, that's hilarious! A bulldog in a pink princess costume? You know you are laughing. But the mister would have none of it. He actually didn't want a costume at all for our little furbaby. But, in the end, we both gave a little and reached a decision. Our little ham-on-legs is going to be the cutest bumblebee on the block. I will try to take some pictures. This is going to be good.

A Victory of Sorts

2009-10-18T19:33:00.000-05:00

I survived my half-marathon on Saturday. I finished in 2:07, which is 15 minutes slower than my PR last April. Even though I was so much slower than my PR, I'm still satisifed with my time. Until I actually crossed the finish line, I was concerned that I couldn't finish the distance. Just ten weeks ago, I couldn't put any weight on my right leg without crying out in pain. Eight weeks ago I struggled to run just two miles. And only a month ago I finished a seven mile run in tears of frustration, almost inconsolable that I couldn't run like I could last June. So yeah, yesterday's race wasn't one of my best finishes, but I'm still proud of myself and I'm excited for my next race.

Clothes Make the [Wo]Man

2009-09-30T19:15:00.001-05:00

To mark the opening of a play based on the book Love, Loss and What I Wore, Double X recently compiled vignettes of their contributors' own life experiences as lived through their clothes. It made me think of my own life lived through my clothes. Of the ruffled underwear, which I insisted went on backwards--why would ruffles go in the back? My demands seemed perfectly reasonable to my toddler brain, not so reasonable to my mom. Of my First Communion ensemble, which I thought was so elegant and classy. In reality, I looked like a lace monster vomited all over me. At least it was the eighties. Of the skiing pig pajamas from my grandmother, which started my pig collection. My band uniforms. My ROTC uniform. Prom dresses. The black sheath dress I wore to my father's memorial service. My very first cashmere sweater. Skinny jeans. My wedding dress. A green wristband I wear in road races to honor my very favorite superhero, Luke.

Then there was the business suit I wore on my very first day of orientation as a new associate. It was a black pinstriped pantsuit which I paired with a sky blue, 3/4 length button down blouse. On my left hand I wore my great-grandmother's anniversary diamond. On my right hand was my Notre Dame class ring. On my wrists I wore my watch with the blue face, a Christmas gift from my husband and the bracelet he bought to congratulate me on surviving law school. Around my neck were the pearls my grandmother bought for me as a child. In my ears were my great-grandmother's diamond earrings, given to me by my mother as a law school graduation present. As I looked in the mirror to check that my hair was not out of place and that I looked adequately put-together, it all hit me: I did it. I made it through law school and had landed the big firm job. I was a lawyer and I was going to be a damn good one at that. No longer was I that awkward girl of my teens--I was now a confident young woman ready to take on the world. Somehow, that suit seemed to contain magic power (it has now, unfortunately, become a casualty of my running hobby and is too big!) and that jewelry, passed down through my family, somehow made me feel connected to previous generations, all of whom were saying "We are proud of you". And then there was my class ring. As I glanced at it, I knew my father was looking down on me. And I knew he could not have been prouder of his not-so-little girl.

So, readers, what are your stories? Add them to the comments.

And the finalists are...

2009-09-20T14:05:00.001-05:00

So thanks to everyone who gave input on marathons. I haven't made up my mind yet exactly which one I am going to run, but I have it down to two. Sorry Megs, Christine and Jennifer, but I really want to run one before I turn 30 so that knocks out Indianapolis and the Marine Corps Marathon. Also, Steph--the Sunburst marathon was a very very strong contender. How can a Domer even consider giving up and not finishing while in sight of the Dome? The problem is that the Sunburst races conflict with Hospital Hill here in Kansas City, which is a big local race. It is probably one of the biggest races here in town, and it is a race that I don't want to miss. So, unfortunately, that knocked out the Sunburst marathon. Anyways, here are the two finalists, along with the pros and cons for each:

St. Louis. It is close, it is convenient for my mom to come and watch, I've got family in St. Louis I could visit, and what better post-race "fuel" exists than Ted Drewes? The problem is that this race is in April which could mean unpredictable weather. Plus, I'd have to train through the winter which means LOTS of treadmill running. Since I'm on blood thinners through February, I really can't take a chance of running if it gets slick at all outside. Plus, it is really hard to schedule runs outside during the winter due to my work schedule and the lack of daylight, hence the reliance on the treadmill.
Montreal. I've always wanted to go to Montreal, plus this race is in September, just a week before my birthday. And the best part? The finish is in the Olympic stadium! I could train through the summer, which means lots of daylight to get in runs, plus it gives me plenty of time to finish getting back the fitness I lost this summer so that when I start marathon training my body is ready for the challenge. Downside is that the mister may be abroad next fall. If I'm going to run a marathon, I'd like to have someone around to celebrate with afterwards.

So that's the situation for now. I'm sure I'll update this when I make a decision and you all will probably be incredibly sick of hearing about my running. But, I'm excited about doing this. What better way to celebrate the entry into my 30s than having a marathon under my belt? Hell, if I can get through 26.2 miles, I can do anything!

Good Riddance!

2009-09-11T20:15:00.000-05:00

So Labor Day has come and gone and football has started. We still haven't had the fall equinox or baseball playoffs, but I'm ready to bid Summer 2009 adieu. Normally I really like summer, but this summer, not so much. Sure, some great couples got hitched and some beautiful babies have been born, but I'm ready for this summer to be OVER! I know that I need to be grateful this summer wasn't worse--that clot could have gone to my lungs (bad), the flare could not have responded to drugs (also bad) or the infection could could have been much worse. The only lingering effects from this summer is I'm still not back to where I was in June with respect to running. And I won't be able to run the full marathon next month. And the steroids have given me a bit of a moon face and some acne. All aggravating, at least to me, but not all bad. Still, I'm glad that this is behind me. And it all has got to get better from here.

Speaking of getting better, I need to now come up with a new marathon to run if I'm going to get a marathon in before I turn 30 on September 14, 2010. Chicago and New York are out since they're too late. KC is too late also. I could do one of the spring marathons, but then I have to train through the winter. I thought about Disney or Miami, but they're in January, so I'm afraid I don't have quite enough time. If there are any runners who read this and have suggestions for a good first marathon, please leave your suggestions in the comments.

Guest Post: Lisa the Dog Speaks

2009-09-07T14:51:00.000-05:00

Seriously people. Look what I have to put up with. I didn't come up with my own title--can you see what they called me? A common dog? Hellooooo. I have papers.

Anyways, so life has been somewhat rough these past few weeks. My people are jerks. First, they want on vacation and took me to a kennel. A kennel! I had to share attention with common dogs. It was awful. Then when the people came home, things started to disappear. There were lots of boxes. And my people were gone a lot. And then they took me someplace new. I recognized my old crate and blanket but everything was different. I DON'T DO DIFFERENT, PEOPLE. I thought I had made that abundantly clear. I liked my old place. There were no stairs and I knew how to open the doors. Now the doors all latch and I can't open them. Plus there are stairs and uneven wood floors that I cause me to slide. Sure, the yard is nice, but there are all sorts of new smells and sounds. And there's a grill out there now. Can you believe that Dad grilled steaks last night and did not let me have any? Jerk.

Oh wait, someone has turkey out. Time to go turn on the cute and see if I can get me some. I don't think these people are going to move back so the least they could do is feed me treats.

My obsession with polka dots has a limit

2009-08-12T10:23:00.000-05:00

In case you were wondering, I never wanted my belly to be covered with polka dots. Shirts, scarves, skirts, dresses, shoes--that's fine. Skin? Not so much. Unfortunately, right now my belly appears to be covered in polka dots due to the bruising from the twice-daily injections I've been giving myself to try to thin my blood enough to take care of the blood clot the mister so eloquently blogged about, below. I keep hoping that my blood work is going to come back thin enough so that I can stop giving myself shots, but that hasn't happened yet. On the plus side, I'm never going to complain about my genetic predisposition to store fat in my belly--the fat provides plenty of landing sites.

In other news, I'm starting to get around better and am now off pain medicine. My leg still gets a bit swollen if I walk around without a compression stocking, but it is getting better. I am hoping to start running again soon (before you nurses yell at me, my doctor said I could start running when I felt up to it, as long as I'm careful about falls.) The not running has been really frustrating since it is something I do enjoy, but I know I'll be back at it soon. I did decide to drop down from a full marathon to a half marathon this fall. I just don't think I can get enough training in to fully respect the full distance and I want to make sure that when I run a full marathon that I am properly trained. The other hard thing has been that with the blood thinners I have to weigh the risk of a fall against the benefit of an activity for everything I do. That's also really hard to get used to, but I should only be on blood thinners for six months, so it should be manageable.

I'm just really really really ready for this summer to be over.

Guest Post

2009-08-06T11:04:00.000-05:00

All,

Lawyers, Guns, and Money (TM, R, C, LLC and a bunch of other lawyerly acronyms I don't understand) is under guest management today as the normal author deals with the aftermath of minor surgery. So, rather than your usual fare, you are being entrusted to the incapable hands of The Mister, the loving mooch who does menial household tasks for the blog's author in exchange for not having to enter the real world. Not really knowing how to approach this highly important mission, I have opted to do to my lovely wife what she normally does to me: Employ fancy legal training (which she slyly calls "logic") to pick apart everything I say. So, without further ado, a line-by-line examination of her last post:

Things are looking up
Okay, that was the title. Hope, optimism, warm little cuddly teddy bears snuggling up to your soul - all the classic elements of a real tear-jerker, soon to be starring your favorite Hollywood starlet bucking for an Oscar nod. But, like any good movie, there's a plot twist!

Thanks for bearing with my whiny posts lately.
First sentence, and we're already apologizing? What happened to putting your best foot forward, starting strong, being an evil lawyer? It's not like she was giving people a choice - if you wanted to read the blog, it was whiny posts or nothing. Now, if you had been reading the fine prose over at The Mister Speaks, you would still be getting apologies, but you would get pictures too!

Things are really getting better now.
Remember that plot twist I mentioned? Turns out, get this, that a lawyer lied! I know that I may have just shaken many of your core beliefs and made you consider abandoning this country for a Canadian utopia, but it happens. Oh, sure, she'll plead she was arguing from the best information available to her at the time, but we'll see if the Appeals Court upholds that decision.

My leg is pretty much healed--I was able to go for a very easy run today.
Apparently us over at The Mister, Inc. have a much different conception of "healed" than the management over here at LGM. Whereas LGM seems to think healed consists of "I can walk more than five feet without looking like a wounded gazelle," The Mister prefers to define healed as "a leg not riddled with blood clots, including one over two inches in length." Oh, and that whole easy run thing? Turns out (and back me up on this medically-inclined people who read this) that this is quite possibly one of the worst things you can do with clots in your leg.

I don't want to risk re-injuring myself so I'm really trying to ease back into running.
The problem in this sentence is easier to spot than the trombone in a Highlights find the object thing (I'm sure that has an official name, but I haven't been a kid for awhile, and I'm not going to go steal a Highlights from some sick kid to find out). See it yet? I'm no lawyer (thankfully), but I'm pretty sure to re-injure yourself requires the initial injury to have gone away. If you've made it this far, you obviously know that wasn't the case.

It is really hard for me not to try to be right back where I was before I hurt myself, but even I know that's stupid.
Reader's Choice! Design your own joke about this sentence in the comments section (really, I'm just afraid of making some joke about stupidity and having to sleep on the couch for the next several weeks, so I'm passing the buck).

As for my gut, I'm also doing better.
Finally, some truth! Although this might now be untrue, because apparently nothing sounds better to a doped-up post-surgery Wife than half of a large Imo's pizza and half of an order of toasted ravioli. On top of the baked potato from the food cart. And the apple pie. And a thing of applesauce. I'm not a nutritionist either, but this doesn't sound like a recipe for a healthy gut.

I am in that magical time frame where prednisone has started to work but before the side effects start.
I can now attest that she is in that magical time frame where they are still giving her Vicodin and so she could care less about what prednisone is or is not doing to her body. And since prednisone isn't known to cause blood clots before you take it for the first time, I'm pretty sure even she can't blame prednisone for this.

Based on previous experience, the side effects should show up in the next few days.
If the side effects showed up, they were drowned out by the giant bottle of hard alcohol that was the massive blood clots. Sorry for the alcohol reference, but that's the only way to keep most lawyers interested - mention the booze.

If you haven't ever taken prednisone, the side effects are nasty--I get really bad insomnia, mood swings, "moon face" and I'm always hungry (which of course means I gain weight, which really doesn't go well with the mood swings!)
Insomnia can also be caused by excruciating pain as several veins behind your knee wall themselves off. Mood swings can also apparently be caused by pain (I know, this is rocket science type stuff - try to keep up). And, again, not a nutritionist, but weight gain can also be caused by eating half a pizza. The point? If you want to see a really bad mood swing in action, try to be standing near me when the Wife reads this part of the post for the first time.

But the drug works, it works fast, and it was the next step in getting this flare under control.
But if you know the Wife, she demands perfection and can't resist a good challenge. Take this flare. Just to make it a bit harder she tossed in some type of infection at the beginning, and then upped the ante with blood clots and a hospital stay. None of this wussy "give me my one pill and I'll get better stuff." No, that's how mere mortals do it. And the Wife can't be a mere mortal (at least in my eyes (and yes, that's a rather blatant attempt to atone for any reference to pizza and weight gain)).

So far, it is doing its job--I'm no longer running to the bathroom every 30 minutes which is huge.
Apparently there was an alternate explanation for this - she wasn't running to the bathroom every 30 minutes because she couldn't run. Or walk. Or really even hobble. Come to think of it, the dog has been having a suspiciously large number of "accidents" lately...

And I'm starting to have some more energy.
'Roids will do that. As well as give you 'roid rage. Which I will probably experience for the comment above about the dog. Watch me try to dig myself out of it in the next comment!

So, really, it is just like anything else in life--you have to take the good with the bad, which is what I'm going to try to do.
I'm going to hold her to this one. Right now I'm pretty sure I qualify as "bad," but if I treat this as a binding contract (and I'm pretty sure I can since it is part of the marriage vows (wasn't it? If not, is it too late for a do-over?)) she has to take me along with getting better, right? Besides, I make yummy things in the kitchen and she's not really supposed to handle a knife for awhile, so she needs me. It's not quite as good as forgiveness for the dog comment, but I'll take what I can get.

Though if you are in the KC area, I'd avoid cutting me off in traffic any time soon.
Remember, she's on Vicodin. Actually, it's probably best just to avoid the streets altogether if she's going to be out.

Well folks, we've reached the end of our magical mystery tour through the Wife's previous post. We laughed, we cried, we fell in love (don't tell me you don't feel it), and we even made toilet jokes. Fun times. With luck (and the assistance of extremely expensive non-government subsidized or provided healthcare that needs to be reformed about as much as the Titanic needed extra watertight doors and bulkheads) this blog will be back under normal editorial control soon. In the meantime, why don't you check out the archives over at this really funny blog that everyone seems to rave about when the lazy author can be bothered to write something?

Things are looking up

2009-07-26T14:38:00.000-05:00

Thanks for bearing with my whiny posts lately.

Things are really getting better now. My leg is pretty much healed--I was able to go for a very easy run today. I don't want to risk re-injuring myself so I'm really trying to ease back into running. It is really hard for me not to try to be right back where I was before I hurt myself, but even I know that's stupid.

As for my gut, I'm also doing better. I am in that magical time frame where prednisone has started to work but before the side effects start. Based on previous experience, the side effects should show up in the next few days. If you haven't ever taken prednisone, the side effects are nasty--I get really bad insomnia, mood swings, "moon face" and I'm always hungry (which of course means I gain weight, which really doesn't go well with the mood swings!) But the drug works, it works fast, and it was the next step in getting this flare under control. So far, it is doing its job--I'm no longer running to the bathroom every 30 minutes which is huge. And I'm starting to have some more energy. So, really, it is just like anything else in life--you have to take the good with the bad, which is what I'm going to try to do.

Though if you are in the KC area, I'd avoid cutting me off in traffic any time soon.

"Tis only a flesh wound

2009-07-22T21:05:00.000-05:00

So apparently this is not the summer to be me.

First off, remember my last post, about not being to drink due to treatment for a GI infection? Turns out that in addition to the infection, I also have a ulcerative colitis flare. So now I get to start a round of prednisone. Lovely. To make things more exciting, apparently my iron levels are crazy low, although my hemoglobin is still normal. The words "B-12 injection" were mentioned, but for now my doctor is going to see if supplements work. Here's hoping--I don't do well with needles. (Although I will of course do whatever is necessary to get healthy. I just generally try to avoid shots whenever possible.) I keep wondering if maybe this explains why I've been having such crappy training runs lately?

Second, I somehow managed to pull a muscle in my thigh. I don't know how I did it. I wish I did, so that I could avoid doing it in the future. I was seated and my leg started hurting. And then it got to the point that I could barely walk. I look like a wounded newborn antelope whenever I try to walk. It is getting better, so that's a good sign, but I don't get anywhere very fast these days.

So basically, I'm not running right now, which is what aggravates me the most. In the grand scheme of things, none of what is going on this summer is all that bad. I will get better and will be all back to normal soon. I just am really aggravated to not be able to run right now. Running is my escape from everything. It is my major stress reliever. I love the feeling of pushing myself to new limits and seeing what I can do. Running makes me forget, even for just a few hours, that I'm fighting the disease that took my dad. When I can't run, and when part of the reason is because of this damn disease, I get angry. I get crabby. I get a little sad. I worry. I know I need to be grateful for the years I've been in remission, but I'm selfish. I want to stay in remission forever.

Do I hope for too much?

This one's a twofer!

2009-07-11T18:13:00.001-05:00

So I haven't blogged lately. Sorry. BUT, since I haven't blogged for a while, this post is really a two-for-one deal. Enjoy!

Let's Motor

So as many of you may know, the mister and I decided to buy a house. As of early September, we'll be all moved in to our new digs and I will no longer be able to walk to work (a 65 block walk doesn't sound so appealing. I am SO going to miss my 3 block commute!) Since walking won't really be an option, I had to get a car--a brand new MINI Cooper. And oh my, that car is fun to drive. I'm sure the racing stripes and checkerboard roof will not make me a cop target in the least. And we all know I only drive the speed limit...

Countdown to Beermas

Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick up some sort of GI infection. Don't worry, I'll spare you the details. Anyways, to treat said infection, my doctor prescribed the antibiotic flagyl. Only problem? I cannot drink ANY alcohol while taking this drug. I swear the wine is just mocking me and the whiskey wants to know why we can't hange out anymore. But, the magic day is July 24 and then I can celebrate my own personal Beermas.

Have to start somewhere!

2009-06-29T21:14:00.000-05:00

Today I began my marathon training. The big day is October 17 (yes, I know that is the ND/USC game, but with a 7 am race start I had better finish with enough time to make it to kickoff!)

We'll see how this goes.

On the plus side, it has been three weeks since my last race and there's something comforting about being back on a schedule.

How the dog managed to get under my skin

2009-05-06T20:43:00.000-05:00

No. Really. One of her hairs actually got under my skin.

It all happened while running one night. I could feel a hot spot developing, but I thought I just had the seam in my sock twisted funny. I was in the middle of a tempo run and didn't want to stop so I just kept going. When I took my shower, my toe looked red, which is what I expected, so I just left it alone. The next morning, it looked like a hair was stuck in my toe. I told myself that was impossible and that it was just a weird scratch. Two days later, I realized it WAS a hair and it was really hurting. So, with the help of a lot of rubbing alcohol and my trusty tweezers, I managed to pull the offending hair out from under my skin. Since the dog is the only one in the house with red hair, I'm quite positive she is the source of the hair.

On the plus side, my toe now feels better. You better believe that I'm checking all my socks from now on!

What a crazy dream I had!

2009-05-01T20:51:00.000-05:00

Oh my goodness, I have to tell you all about the STRANGEST dream I had. See, I went to Notre Dame, graduated with honors, went to law school (!), was on law review, was on editorial board for law review, got a good job, AND passed the bar in two states. Now this is just crazy talk because I'm a girl. And we ALL know that girls can't be lawyers. Silly silly dream. Thank goodness I woke up and was reminded at work that I there is NO POSSIBLE WAY I could be a lawyer. Thank goodness for that legal assistant who asked me if the lawyer would be filing an amended petition and to let her know what *HE* decides to do. Oh, silly me, I thought I filed that petition. Those dreams--so lifelike! It even looked like my signature on that petition!

Oh. Wait. It WAS my signature. And my bar number. And my name. Hmmm, maybe girls can be lawyers after all?

In case you are wondering what's going on, I filed a petition last week. Today, one of the defendants asked why they were served. The legal assistant defintely used the masculine pronoun when referring to the attorney. This really ticked me off. First, my signature is pretty legible. And my name was typed under my signature. And "Attorneys for the plaintiff" was typed below that. It is really offensive to me that someone automatically assumes when speaking to me that I am not the attorney. And how on earth am I supposed to fix this problem without coming off as a pretentious wench? I'm sure some of you think I'm overreacting. However, keep in mind that this is certainly NOT the first time this has happened to me, and I've only been practicing for two years! Maybe things are more progressive on the coasts, but here there is an assumption that a woman in a legal career is the paralegal or assistant, NOT the attorney. This makes me incredibly sad because what does that say about our world? I am just as capable as any man, a fact that I feel I have proven again and again and again and again. Why do I have to keep fighting this battle?

I know life's not fair, but really, all I want is a fighting chance. I just want to start at the same level as my male colleagues. Just once, I'd like to pick up the phone and not have to overcome the assumption that a female voice means the caller can't possibly be a lawyer.

The epic battle for my soul

2009-04-26T18:27:00.000-05:00

In case you hadn't noticed, there's not a lot of corporate activity going on right now. Until banks start lending again, deals won't happen. So, to try to get my hours up, I've been helping out wherever I can. This means that I've been doing a little bit of everything, but has included venturing dangerously close to the Dark Side--litigation. On Thursday, I had a partner tell me that he's going to make a litigator of me yet. I laughed it off, until I realized that my ongoing matters included research for a case set for trial in the next few weeks. And then I remembered that petition that I filed last week.

The broad base of experience I'm getting is really great, but at the same time, I really hope corporate work picks up soon.

This crazy thing called life

2009-04-21T21:48:00.000-05:00

So I know you have all been waiting with baited breath to find out what has happened in my life since my last post.

No, I'm not THAT narcissistic. I don't actually think that you all have been glued to your computers for the last three weeks.

But don't worry. That won't spare you an update. So, here goes.

First and foremost, the biggest news since my last post is that LUKE IS CANCER FREE!!!!!! I can't even imagine what it has been like for my friends to watch their little boy suffer, but the whole family is amazing and they managed to get through these last nine months as a team. I'm blessed to have them as friends and Luke is incredibly blessed to have his parents looking after him. The whole family is getting ready for a big move, so please keep them in your thoughts and prayers--I know they are glad to leave the nightmare of the last few months behind them as they start a new, and hopefully very boring, life in a new city.

OK, so nothing I have can top Luke's news, but I figured I'd give you an update on the half-marathon. It was really windy when we finished, and wind+sweat=VERY COLD, so we did not stay an extra hour to wait for the free beer. We did, however, walk to our favorite dive bar in town (after showering, of course!) where we split four pitchers of beer. No, that's not a typo. I figure 13.1 miles earns us an afternoon of debauchery. The mister did beat me (grrrrr) but only by 25 seconds. I need to just accept that biology is a cruel mistress and that he may have reached the point where he will beat me in every race. To end this paragraph on a positive note, I did take another two minutes off my PR, so the race wasn't a complete loss.

In other running news, I've gone off the deep end. I'm running the Kansas City marathon (the whole thing!) in October. I'm fairly nervous but also a little bit excited to see how I do. I'll keep you all updated. I'm sure training will present may opportunities for "funny" blog posts.

Finally, I have to admit that I committed a grave act of treason on Friday night. I went to a Mizzou alumni function. In my defense, there was an open bar. And my friends were all going. (Hmmm, since they were law school classmates, think I can claim it was a marketing expense? Yeah, I didn't think so either.) And the money did go to scholarships, which in this age of budget cuts for higher education, is a very good cause. I just don't know how I can justify the picture that was taken of the mister, me and Truman the tiger. The photographer just snuck up on us--what was I supposed to do? Believe me, dear readers, Notre Dame remains first in my heart, despite what the pictures may say.

Kansans shouldn't take things so literally

2009-04-02T21:37:00.000-05:00

I mean really people. "The last shall be first" does NOT mean that you should have the Boulevard Beer truck show up three hours after the start of a half-marathon! Instead, it should arrive in plenty of time so that everyone can enjoy without having to wait around for an hour. Hrmph.

OK, so by way of explanation, Boulevard (KC's hometown beer--and it is good! Take THAT St. Louis!) will be providing free beer to finishers of Saturday's (rescheduled) Olathe half-marathon. Only problem is that they won't be around until 10 am. The race starts at 7! Based on our times from our last half-marathon, the mister and I should finish just under two hours (and hello, we're not that speedy).

Hopefully we can stake out our spot in line. Dear readers, would YOU want to get in between me and a free beer?

"Timing is everything"

2009-03-28T11:32:00.000-05:00

So said my very wise mentor when I told her my next half-marathon was scheduled for the same day the KC area was supposed to get hit with a major winter storm. Well, due to the weather forecast, the race was postponed. I'm glad they were able to reschedule since I've spent the last few months training. And I'm also glad I'm not running outside since it is cold, wet and icy, which is a recipe for disaster.

I. Hate. Kansas.

2009-03-25T19:04:00.001-05:00

No, this is not some post where I wax nostalgic about old Mizzou and discuss my hatred of KU. Because both the nostalgia and the hatred are nonexistent. Rather, I'm going to tell you all about the continuing legal education (CLE) fun I had today. I "volunteered" (read: was picked to be the sacrificial lamb) for a CLE held out in Johnson County, KS (read: Suburban Hellhole). Only problem was that I thought the CLE was at the organization's downtown location. As I was getting ready to walk to my meeting, I realized it was in Suburban Hellhole. Since the mister had the car, I had to try to find someone whose car I could borrow (keep in mind I'm late, since I had to replace a 5 minute walk with a 30 minute car ride). Naturally,the directions were terrible--they said to "park behind the building". Um, there were several buildings and they all looked the same, which is precisely why I hate Kansas. OK, to be fair, I should say that I hate Johnson County and its miles and miles of strip malls and office parks. Whenever I travel out there, I'm afraid I'm going to start wearing a lot of beige and will somehow end up with a closet full of holiday sweaters and will start celebrating special occasions at Applebee's (maybe Olive Garden if I'm lucky!)

Time to get my head in the game

2009-03-14T12:23:00.000-05:00

Today was the Westport St. Pat's Day run. My time was OK--31:50 for four miles, which is about four minutes faster than my run last year. Progress is good, but it wasn't as fast as I wanted to do. The mister, however, finished a full minute faster than I did. Grrrrrr. The thing that I'm ticked off about is that I just kinda gave up after the first mile. I felt like I had no energy and as the mister passed me right after the first mile marker, I let him go instead of pushing myself to run with him. I need to figure out a way to NOT give up on runs so that I can push myself to that next level. I've always had a problem psyching myself out because I'm such a pessimist. At first this wasn't too much of a problem with my running but it is quickly becoming a problem. I need to set high goals and learn how to force myself to keep running and to not give up. It is all mental, so I just need to figure it out. My next race is a half-marathon two weeks from today, so hopefully I'll have it figured out by then.

In other news, Luke is back in the hospital due to fever. Please keep him and his family in your thoughts and prayers.

LisaKillian faces her destiny

2009-02-22T10:58:00.000-06:00

The last few weekends have been sunny and not rainy so we've been taking LisaKillian to our local dog park. Since we're downtown and she's scared of city buses, she doesn't get to run around and act like a dog very often, so she seems to enjoy the dog park where we can take her off her leash for a bit. It is also really funny to watch her try to run around since she kind of waddles--bulldogs were most certainly NOT made for speed!

Anyways, so yesterday at the dog park, we ran into two scottish terriers who wanted NOTHING to do with LisaKillian. One was named Bruce--I forgot to ask if he was named after Robert the Bruce, but for the purposes of this post, it is funnier if the dog's namesake is Robert the Bruce--and Bruce did NOT like LisaKillian one bit. He growled and barked at LisaKillian, wanting nothing to do with his English overlord. LisaKillian just kinda ignored him. Kinda like the English have ignored Scotland, except for when the Scots act up. I imagine LisaKillian thinking something like "We gave you your own assembly, now quit your yapping!" although she was probably really thinking "Hmmmm, I wonder if there's food around the corner?"

I'm never joking about the economy again

2009-02-14T09:43:00.000-06:00

So less than a week after I post my very sarcastic take on the economy, the legal world was hit with what legal blogs and the ABA Journal are calling "Bloody Thursday." The last total I saw was close to 900 layoffs on Thursday. Compared to the number of overall jobs lost in this recession, Bloody Thursday isn't too terrible, but keep in mind that even the biggest law firms are much smaller than a company like Home Depot.

Excuse me, I need to start learning to darn socks so that I can survive when the legal industry completely implodes.

So much to tell!

2009-02-06T18:03:00.000-06:00

Sorry for the dearth of posts, but gosh I've been so busy! As you've heard, the commercial real estate market is just booming. All our clients have such easy access to credit right now and with all that TARP money flowing into the economy, deals are happening left and right. My hours are just off the charts--helllloooo bonus! Gosh, things haven't been this good in eighty years!

As if. I wish this were all true. Well, except for that last sentence--eighty years ago was 1929, and we all know how that worked out...

The scale is evil and must be punished

2008-12-31T16:49:00.000-06:00

Starting tomorrow, I'm back on the wagon.

I still have bruises from where I feel off this holiday season. Oh well. Just when last year's have faded, it is time to get fresh ones. I wish I could control myself during the marathon gorgefest that is November and December, but I just am not that strong. So, starting tomorrow, I'm back on the treadmill and back to eating rabbit food. Now if I could just lay off the red wine and the beer, I'd be set for my annual shape up challenge. Too bad that would take a miracle, and I'm a lowly human.

To help with my attempts to lose the holiday pudge, I've signed up for another half-marathon. The big day is March 28, in Olathe, Kansas (a suburb of KC).

Bear with me

2008-12-14T10:20:00.001-06:00

So I'm starting to receive Christmas cards from people. Please do not fear--I'll be sending them out sometime. I didn't get my tree up until last week, so I'm running just a wee bit behind this year. And it didn't help that this last week was just miserable--I had to go to New Jersey for training (though I did get to see Jessi--yay!) and then didn't get home until 1:30 AM due to weather. Then I also had my review and a dentist appointment. And no, I did not intend to schedule all this the same week--two out of the three items were scheduled for me after I had scheduled the dentist appointment.

Here's hoping for a better week next week!

The downside to buying new clothes

2008-12-04T20:22:00.000-06:00

I am starting to replace some of my old clothes now, as none of my work pants fit. They are all waaaaay too baggy in the seat--not very flattering. However, one of the upsides was that a baggy seat meant that I did not have to worry about VPL. Sure, I had to look like my backside was huge, but I could wear comfy underwear. This was a blessing I had overlooked until today when I decided to wear a new suit with pants that fit. However, I was shocked to see that my normal undergarments would not work. Sigh. Oh well. What's a little discomfort to look good, right?

Some things are just not very good ideas

2008-12-02T18:39:00.001-06:00

So, apparently the company that took pictures at the half-marathon has Christmas cards you can purchase with your race picture on it. Um, right. Like the friends and family who hear from me once a year are going to want to see me dripping with sweat and looking like I want it all to end. Because nothing says "Happy Birthday Baby Jesus" like a person looking like death warmed over. Right. Needless to say, I will not be ordering these cards.

Also in racing news, I have been informed that I neglected to actually provide the details of the half-marathon grudge match. Dear reader, I did beat the mister. By less than 30 seconds, but a win is a win. And to make things better, the streak has been extended to two wins--I beat him last Thursday when we did a run down in Oklahoma City (yes, we did a race Thanksgiving morning. Because nothing makes gorging OK like running a race the same day!) Thursday's race was closer, but a shorter distance--it was an 8k which is a little less than 5 miles. The great news is that I managed to keep up an 8 minute/mile pace! Woohoo!

OK, that's all I got. Christine, does that make you happy? :) I'll try to think of funnier posts and promise not to go too long without a post again.

A new low

2008-11-07T19:27:00.000-06:00

Many of you know that I hate needles. What many of you don't know, is just how truly pathetic I am. Small children handle shots and blood draws far better than I do. I really should be embarassed for the way I get around needles. And yesterday, I was. You see, yesterday was Flu Shot Day at work. Liking the flu even less than I like needles, I pulled up my big girl panties and showed up to get my shot. I was so pathetic that the partner getting HIS shot at the same time called me an hour later to check and make sure I was OK. While that was very nice of him, it was a reminder that I think I might need to grow up.

I'm working the second shift

2008-10-29T22:04:00.000-05:00

At least that's my excuse for being late with this post. Luke had his surgery today--the last bit of chemo shrunk the tumor enough for it to be removed. He did great and the surgery was sucessful. He'll have to have some more treatment after this, but at least the tumor is OUT! So, yay--the prayers are certainly working! But, we can't give up (this is where the second shift part comes in--get it?) Please keep praying for him, for those treating him, and for his parents.

What a difference training makes!

2008-10-19T10:50:00.000-05:00

I know I'm beating a dead horse and you are all sick of hearing this, but I ran a half-marathon yesterday. And guess what--I'm not that sore today! This is a shock for me, because my first half-marathon pretty much knocked me out for a week. This might have had something to do with my attitude regarding training, which can be summed up as "I'm in shape, training is for wimps." In case you were wondering, that was a very bad idea. This time around I had a training plan and everything went quite well. I hit the 10 mile mark and realized I only had a 5k left and all I could do was smile because I felt good. When I hit the 10 mile mark the last half I ran, well, I don't really remember because I just kinda stumbled from there to the finish. Not pretty. I also had some help from a very strong little boy named Luke this time around.

Now on to the snarky part of my post--I know this is why you read. The mister almost beat this time. Stupid biology--I can see that my era of domination in road races might be coming to an end. Anyways, the mister got out ahead of me at the start. I was trying to stick to the 2 hour pace group for at least the beginning, then strike off on my own to finish under 2 hours. Anyways the mister got ahead of the pace group, but there were too many people for me to see him. I didn't end up passing him until well into the 11th mile. And as you can imagine, I was none too pleased that he had been ahead of me for 11 miles. As I passed him, I snarled "Didn't think I'd let you win, did you? Try to catch me now!" People around us chuckled a little bit. I ended up finishing in 1 hour, 54 minutes, 12 seconds, so I blew past my goal of 2 hours.

Of course, here's the real problem--I felt really good after the race. I still feel really good. Stupid endorphins--they lead me to make poor life decisions. Next year, full marathon?

You know you're a runner when...

2008-10-13T20:02:00.000-05:00

...you casually discuss how running affects your bathroom habits with a near-stranger.

Yes kids, this really did happen the other day at the gym. The most disturbing part was that it did not seem strange at all. You see, Marathon Man (the guy who asked me if I'm running the KC marathon--he is running it, hence the name) and I were chatting about our long runs and race day "issues". Upon reflection, this is further proof that I'm not normal. As if the fact that I enjoy running for two hours at a time isn't sufficient proof.

In other running news, the big race is on Saturday. I fully intend to re-establish my dominance as my household's reigning endurance champ. The mister is going DOWN! Seriously though, I'm pretty excited for Saturday to see how my training has paid off. I believe my time goal might be a bit ambitious (under 2 hours) but hey, goals are supposed to be ambitious, right? I do have a secret weapon for my fight against the clock--that secret weapon is the thought of a little boy named Luke. You may remember my post a few months ago about Luke. Well, unfortunately, his tumor hasn't responded as well to chemo as was hoped, so now he needs a more aggressive treatment. This little boy and his family have been through so much and are such amazing people. They are my inspiration, and the mister and I have decided to run on Saturday in honor of Luke and his fight against cancer. I know I've asked for this before, but please please please continue to pray for Luke and for his parents, Ben and Megs, and Luke's baby brother Drew.

Phone Call to the Mister

2008-09-19T19:07:00.001-05:00

Transcript of a phone call from me to the Mister:

Me: Do we have plans on November 11?
Mister: No, not that I know of. Why?
Me: Oh, just something for work that I might want to go to.
Mister: Ooooh, what is it?
Me: Oh, just (trailing off) thenewkidsontheblockconcert.
Mister: What did you just say?
Me: You heard me. Don't make me repeat it. Someone might overhear me and make
fun of me. We have the suite.
Mister: I'm going to make fun of you for this. New Kids on the Block????? The
suite's not worth it. Your soul is not worth it.

Um yeah. So I'm going to see NKOTB. But it's free and I finally get to use the firm suite, along with several of my girlfriends from work. I think the mister is exaggerating about my soul...

My dog may need therapy

2008-09-14T14:18:00.000-05:00

Despite the fact that LisaKillian's ancestors were bred to bait bulls, their fearlessness seems to have died out. Our baby is scared of everything, including umbrellas. Seriously, she sees an umbrella and starts growling. And bags--she doesn't like those either.

I shouldn't be surprised, but she doesn't like people screaming at the TV, either. Let's just say that yesterday was somewhat traumatic for her. The mister and I would yell at the TV (because the team can hear me all the way from KC--right) and LisaKillian would run away and hide. She even tried to get under the bed.

The poor girl--it is going to be a long fall for her!

Sunshine and Rainbows

2008-09-13T13:49:00.000-05:00

OK, so that last post was a bit depressing. I kept meaning to update with something cheerful but I've been lazy. Sorry.

Anyways, today I get to watch my first ND football game of the season. YAY! Last week we were in Columbus for a wedding, so I only caught part of the game, though I did follow as much of it as I could on my PDA. I know it is a leash for work to get me any time they need me, but boy did it come in handy last week! In other football news, I still haven't decided which team I hate more--OSU or USC. This is a very tough call for me. I think I'm still cheering for the meteor.

Now for my fun news. As a warning, this next part of the post involves a lot of bragging. If you don't want to read it, then close the blog now.

You've been warned.

OK, so as I've posted before, I've really gotten into running in the last year or so. As a result, I've started to lose some weight. I'd noticed that my clothes didn't fit real well, but I hadn't realized just how bad the situation was until I went shopping yesterday. You see, apparently I no longer wear an 8 or a 10. Instead a SIZE FOUR fits me. I haven't worn a size 4 since high school, and even then it didn't fit very well! And yes, I understand that clothing manufacturers like to mess with sizes so that we women think we're wearing a smaller size. Please don't remind me--I want to enjoy my size 4 slacks.

Further inflating my ego was the guy at the gym who asked me if I was running the KC marathon. Now, he may very well have just been hitting on me. Frankly, I don't care. Someone asked me if I'm running a marathon, so I'm going to take that to mean that I look like I could run a marathon. My mind is closed to other explanations for this question. Please, just let me continue to believe that I look like a runner, OK?

Things are never as bad as they seem

2008-08-31T15:56:00.000-05:00

Today is the day I have been dreading for a full decade. Today is the tenth anniversary of my father's death. In some respects, it feels like a lifetime worth of memories have passed without my dad being a part of them. At the same time, sometimes it feels like yesterday that he was laying in the living room, in a hospital bed, barely holding on. I don't think I will ever forget the sound of the machine that gave his ailing lungs oxygen, even though it was the same machine that obscured the sound of his last breath. I still feel guilty that I don't know the exact moment that he passed on. I was in the same room, but was too busy yelling at my brother that I really didn't care about watching Jerry Springer and listening to the oxygen machine.

Despite my fear, today hasn't been too bad. I went to mass yesterday (I knew I couldn't handle it today), so I got to sleep in. Then I had a nice workout and then the mister and I were off to our favorite little dive bar here in town. I guess it is just a day like any other. But that's what ticks me off a bit--it is a day like any other without my dad. Not having him at major life events has become routine and "normal", whatever normal means. I just get angry sometimes when I think of how much has happened that he missed. And it really scares me to think that someday, his fate could be my own. (Did I mention that this week also marks the sixth anniversary of my diagnosis of the same disease that killed my dad?) Why my family? Why is that if the mister and I ever have children, they will never know my father? Why is it that every morning when I take my meds do I have to remember that I could end up just like my dad?

People have told me I have a good attitude about my illness. I don't tell people I'm sick and I try to live my life like I'm not sick. Really, it is just denial. I don't want to think of what could happen to me. I'm lucky in that my disease is in remission. I know that. And I've got friends dealing with things harder than I can ever imagine. Rationally, I know that I'm lucky. It is just that emotionally, I don't feel so lucky today--instead, I miss my dad. I'm angry that I'm sick. And I'm scared for the future.

The streak has been broken

2008-08-24T19:02:00.000-05:00

Readers, I apologize. I have some more bad news for you. My streak is over.

You see, back in college, the mister and I were fairly active people. Then we graduated and decided that sloth and Steak n' Shake were oh so much more fun than physical activity. That lasted for almost two years before yours truly decided to get herself back in shape. Then, about 18 months ago, I convinced the mister to start running 5k's and the like with yours truly. The streak was born, and I managed to beat the mister in four straight races.

Today he beat me in a duathlon (run-bike-run). My excuse is that my chain fell off my bike, causing me to lose some time. And I'd like to point out that when the mister passed me, he didn't even notice that I was struggling with the chain. But did he stop? No. It was a good thing I didn't have a flat tire, as he has the extra tube and pump on his bike.

Our next race is a half-marathon in October. I fully intend to begin a new streak as of that date.

Under new management

2008-08-17T18:18:00.000-05:00

Dear readers, it is my duty to inform you that my household is currently under new management. Despite our breeder's stern warnings NOT to let LisaKillian take over our household, we have capitulated. (Did I ever mention I have French ancestry? Well, yeah, it decided to crop up, and I rolled over and let a four legged drool machine run the place.) She now has control of pretty much everything. Though on the plus side, she lacks opposable thumbs. We've got an advantage there. If you want to see pictures, hop on over to http://www.mjbdomer03.blogspot.com/ for some of the latest pictures. I'm sure there will be more to come.

Oh and in other news, there appears to be a drought of blog posts on the horizon. One of my colleagues is taking a two month leave of absence to work for a political campaign. Which may mean some more work for me in the next few months. Of course, the really distressing thing is that this individual is a fellow Domer, so I won't have anyone to talk football with at work this fall. Maybe that's a good thing?

Working for the weekend

2008-08-02T11:31:00.000-05:00

I am so happy that today my alarm clock did not go off and that I got to sleep in! This week has been a bit crazy at work--we had a pretty big closing yesterday which sucked up ALL my time this week. It was cool though, as it was my first big closing in which I actually worked on the deal from beginning to end. I've had very small portions of big closings before, but nothing where I could really understand what the whole picture was, whereas this time I was able to understand what our client was trying to accomplish. I know this is probably all nerdy and irrelevant to the non-lawyers out there, but just know that I'm happy because this was important to me.

In other news, I also wanted the weekend to arrive because this first weekend in August marks two very important arrivals. For one, the mister comes home. I miss my chef and my coffee maker! Oh yeah, and best friend and soulmate. Yeah those two matter as well, I suppose.

And then the big arrival--on Sunday we will be welcoming our very first "baby" into the family! Lisa (whose name we are going to try to change to Killian as a result of her red coat) is an almost-two English Bulldog who is just the cutest thing ever (hey, I'm allowed to be biased here--my blog, my rules!) We are SO excited to go pick her up, especially after all the time we've spent talking about a dog.

And for your viewing pleasure, here's a picture:

We now interrupt your regularly scheduled broadcast

2008-07-22T21:32:00.000-05:00

I apologize for the change in tone on this blog. This is a serious post. No, really.

Five of my six readers already know this, but a very dear friend's son has cancer. You may remember the baby dialing episode from a year ago. Sorry, I'm too dumb to link to it , but it was the summer of 2007 if you are so inclined to find the post. Anyways, this very sweet little boy has just been diagnosed with Wilm's Tumor, which is a pediatric kidney cancer. Luke's prognosis is good, but please, if you are the praying type, pray for this little boy, Luke, and for his family, including mom and dad (Ben and Megs) and baby brother Drew. They all have a very long and difficult road ahead of them with Luke's chemotherapy treatments and the like.

Thank you.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled broadcast.

Why yes, there is such a thing as too much patriotism

2008-07-16T20:30:00.000-05:00

In case you wondering, it is called "nationalism". But I'll spare you the lecture about early 20th century Europe. Unless of course you are interested in the Irish Civil War (What, you mean not everyone considers naming a girl child Countess Markawiecz (sp?))

Nerdiness aside, I must admit I've been a bit suprised by the reaction to InBev's purchase of Anheuser-Busch. Does anyone out there realize that Budweiser sucks? Or that the Belgians make really really good beer? I really don't see how this is a bad deal. Maybe, just maybe, the Belgians will make Budweiser drinkable! But, I know there are some people who will never buy an import. That's OK. There are plenty of GOOD microbreweries here in the US. Try them people. I guarantee you, the beer is better than the crap coming out of St. Louis.

Though I must admit, those Clydesdales are kinda cute. They almost make me want to drink crappy beer. But not quite.

Oh OK. I confess. I drink domestic, non-microbrews on occasion. But only when they're free.

Talk about nightmares!

2008-07-10T20:24:00.000-05:00

So yesterday, I grab a glass of wine and turn on the TV to watch what the TV guide promised to be several hours of "What Not to Wear." Except that the TV guide lied to me. Instead, I turn on TLC and Jon and Kate Plus Eight is on. Say what?!?!?!?!?!? I wanted Stacy and Clinton, not eight screaming children!

Hrmph.