project small joys: my book clubs

Continuing my exciting series of things I love in life, I present: my book clubs. I belong to two. One is made up of former/current co-workers; it's a very small but persistant book club that meets on an irregular basis but is always reading something (or supposed to be reading something). This book club has been around for probably five years or so. The rules are lax in this club. If you don't like the whole idea of the chosen book, you don't have to read it, but you can still give your opinion about it (or maybe that's just a rule I came up with myself, because lordy, I don't like reading super depressing books but I sure love giving my opinion about them). We also talk VERY LITTLE about the book when we meet (which is usually for lunch during the work week). Instead we spend 80%-90% of the time gossiping and talking about what a douchebag Jon Gosselin is (really!).

My other book club is newer - our second meeting is tonight. This is made up of my core group of friends I've been tight with since I was 8, along with some of their associated girlfriends, boyfriends, what-have-you. So far, the books this club reads tends to be a little more serious, Pulitzer Prize-winning and what not, and so far, the two choices have been great. The last one, which is about a traveling circus in the 1930s, is definitely not something I would have read on my own, since it talks about the abuse of the animals in the circus, but I really liked it. And I guess that's the whole point of book club -reading stuff you normally wouldn't. This second book club takes itself very seriously, with prepared discussion questions and themed snacks. It's kind of hilarious.

Tonight, it's my turn to reveal what book I've picked for our next meeting (we had to pick numbers to determine the order of the picking). I'll let you know what I picked tomorrow! (Because I know you are desperate to find out.)

two sincere questions

1) How did the Kardashians get so famous? Seriously - what do they do? Do any of them act? Sing? Why do we care? And you know I love pop culture and gossip, but whenever I'm cracking open a new issue of US Weekly or People, I simply cannot understand why I have to learn about so-and-so Kardashian's wedding, or the other one's pregnancy, or the other one's cellulite - these are seriously the stories they are reporting on these people - I mean, you might as well be writing about my wedding, pregnancy or cellulite in these magazines - WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE AND WHY DO WE CARE? Seriously - I want to know.

2) How is it possible that Jon Gosselin is such a douchebag? A year ago I was really getting bored with "Jon & Kate Plus Eight" because it was so annoyingly NORMAL and BENIGN-the kids are cute and all, but Jon and Kate were so bland/annoying I couldn't really take it much longer - and now their gross divorce is the top news story everywhere, and he fancies himself the Playboy of the Western World, and worse, the laydeez seem to be responding to him as if he is some sort of hottt ticket instead of an unemployed, not really attractive, lazy, idiotic douchebag. And now he's decided that the show is bad for the kids? The very moment he's been kicked off? When all this time he's been insisting that it's OK to have their flock in the spotlight from the moment they were born? OH MY GOD THE BAD PARENTING OF THESE TWO.

And there is my very early morning rant on some of the most annoying people in the entertainment headlines.

weekend. update.

Since I'll be blogging EVERY SINGLE DAY in October as part of 31 for 21, I will be going back to some regularly scheduled segments on this blog, including the ever-exciting weekend updates. These used to be a lot more interesting back in my single/childfree days, but here we go anyway:

Friday: This used to include me going out to bars and stuff. Instead, tonight Greg and I will attempt to go out to dinner with Jane, which will no doubt end up in a mess/tears. But we keep trying! Because we're suckers like that. After she goes to bed, I will be catching up on some TV, including trying out the show "The Good Wife." Then I'll read more of this and fall asleep before 10, no doubt.


Saturday: Chores, possibly some alone time at my favorite Borders, and, if it doesn't rain, heading to the Apple Harvest Festival for apple fritters. I mean, to celebrate the harvest. The harvest of fritters I will stuff in my mouth. However, it does look like it's going to rain, so I'll probably entertain Jane by letting her run rampant throughout the mall. Because I've become one of those parents. And by "those" I mean "annoying."


Sunday: Greg has a fishing trip, so Jane and I will be solo that day. We'll probably visit my mom, and then we have a birthday party to go to in the afternoon. In the evening, I have a book club meeting, where I will have many, many things to say about this.

What are you doing?

31 for 21 - aw yeah, it's on!

Remember last year, when I did the 31 for 21 blog challenge - which challenges bloggers to blog for 31 days, throughout the month of October, in an effort to raise awareness for Down syndrome - and you all didn't think I could do it? And then I did? Well, here we go again.

As a refresher, here is why I participate - when I was preggo with Jane, the results of my quad screen blood test indicated I had a 1/77 chance of having a baby with Down syndrome. And while the level 2 ultrasound didn't indicate any markers for Ds, I still felt I had to prepare myself - to answer all of the "what ifs" that were clogging my head. In doing my research I became addicted to several blogs written by parents of children with Down syndrome, and still read them today. While it turned out that Jane did not have Down syndrome, I hope in some way, although my own child does not have Ds, I have been and will continue to be an advocate for those with Ds.

So let's rock and roll! Can I do this? YES WE CAN. (oh wait, that was last fall's mantra...)

(in the meantime, please check these ladies out. Pretty inspirational moms, don't ya think?)

what kind of tree am I?

So, we went to a fancy-dancy wedding this past Saturday, and in the program, there was a list of dates corresponding to a list of trees, and by finding your birthday you found what kind of tree you are, and therefore, what kind of person you are. Most trees corresponded with a week's worth of dates, but of course, because I'm very special, September 23 has its own tree. Here's what it said:

Olive Tree, The Wisdom
Loves sun, warmth and kind feelings, reasonable, balanced, avoids aggression and violence, tolerant, cheerful, calm, well-developed sense of justice, sensitive, empathic, free of jealousy, loves to read and the company of sophisticated people.

So, let's break it down:

Loves sun, warmth and kind feelings: EMPHATICALLY yes. So much. I'm so sad summer is over. Also, who doesn't love kind feelings?

Reasonable/balanced: I try to be. This is not always true, however.

Avoids aggression and violence: This is true. My ass kicking days are over. (This is the part where I pretend I once had ass kicking days.)

Tolerant: Mostly, except for ignorant douchebags.

Cheerful: I would say snarky rather than cheerful.

Calm: I can't even pretend this is true.

Well-developed sense of justice: Sure, I like when the bad guy gets what's coming to him. Or her.

Sensitive: Only when I haven't had enough sleep. Which is most of the time.

Empathic: I try to be. I think so.

Free of jealousy: I wish. But no.

Loves to read: Ha! This couldn't be more true. All of my birthday presents featured books. I'm a huge nerd!

Loves the company of sophisticated people: If those people make fart jokes, yes, I do love sophisticated people.

Go here to find out what kind of tree you are!

36.

I am giving myself a free pass for my shitty blogging this week because it's my birthday! Whoo whoo! I turned 36 today, and had a pretty good day. I had some lovely cupcakes at work, a fancy lunch out, and to top it all off, a dinner out with Greg! Due to all of my current stomach issues, I think I ate more today than in the past three days combined! It was all very fabulous. Most of the gifts I've received are books or gift certificates for books, which I think is hilarious - I guess once an English major nerd, always an English major nerd.

I know I have updating to do regarding our Chicago and Boston trips to see U2, and I promise I will post about those trips soon, or at the very least, post some pics. But now I'm overloaded with food and have to go to bed.

the triumphant return of Junior

Wow, I'm really earning the name of this blog these days, right?

Junior made his triumphant return home yesterday, with a bag full of drugs, not to mention two narcotics patches on his belly. Yesterday he was all kinds of weak and pathetic - whining if I walked away from him, so much so that I worked from home in the afternoon sitting on the floor behind the couch, because that's where he set up camp - but today he's definitely showing sparks of his old self. Like when he tried to eat Jane's bagel. And her eggs. And my salad. Not so fast, stomach-stapled dog. Not so fast.

Despite his attempt at food thievery, he's still not really eating a lot, and he's sleeping a ton, and he won't have freedom in the yard for several weeks. It will take a total of 4-6 weeks for full recovery. It's back to leash walking for Junior - something he hasn't really experienced since he was about a year old. He also can't roughhouse with Jimmy (much to Jimmy's chagrin) and we now have to mix his dry food with water to make it nice and mushy. Speaking of his food, I found out something very interesting from the vet yesterday. Apparently we should not elevate his food when we feed him, because there is some research that indicates that elevating his food promotes bloat. Um, well, Junior's food has been elevated from day one because we were told that that would help PREVENT bloat. Nope, said the doc. Over the past five years or so, they have been finding differently. Um, nice for someone to tell me. So take note, people with big dogs - don't elevate the food. Not that that's necessarily what caused it, but I would do ANYTHING to prevent it.

He's on a complicated regimen of four prescriptions plus the aforementioned narcotics patches -which we have to take off with GLOVES and flush down the toilet immediately, because it's a human dose and while being high as a kite sort of sounds tempting, I more suspect that Jimmy and/or Jane will get their mitts on the patch if we don't get rid of it immediately (NO, I am not really contemplating bogarting my dogs drugs.) (Of course, it depends on how the rest of this week goes.)

Hey! Speaking of this week, I have yet another cold, and PINK EYE. WTF is up with that? So, to review: I've got my stomach issues, a cold, and pink eye. And very little sleep. And extra stress about my dog. Did I mention today was picture day at daycare? Lots going on. LOTS.

But a very bright highlight in my week is sitting right next to me right now, staring at my pretzels. Not so fast, Junior.

Junior update

OK guys, I promise no more post titles that scare you! I just wanted to give a quick update on Junior. We had a chance to see him today (we saw him yesterday as well, but he was still pretty drugged and not really responsive). He was walking around but very shaking and antsy and panting a lot - and his whole underbelly is stitched and awful-looking and swollen - but that said, at this point (knock on wood, etc) he is doing well, considering all he has been through. Catching it as early as we did helped a lot. He still isn't eating anything much, but they said that it could very well be a result of the narcotics he's on. As I said on Facebook, between his hot mess looks and his jumpiness from the painkillers, he's very Lindsay Lohan-esque right now.

The current plan is for him to come home tomorrow, unless the doctor changes his mind. OF COURSE Greg is going to a Red Sox game tomorrow so I may have to bring him home myself -and I'm a bit nervous about this considering he weighs almost as much as I do, and when he's not able to move around well, it's truly like helping another human move around - another human who is very stitched up and ouchy and drunk. Plus, Jane gets very jealous when I pet Junior (they are like siblings, I swear) so she's going to be unhappy that he's going to be getting all o the attention, and Jimmy....well, Jimmy has had it rough because he misses his buddy and is totally freaking out if we leave him alone, so he had to go to work with Greg today. So I will also have to prevent Jimmy from jumping on Junior...oh, the good times will roll when Junior makes his triumphant return to the household.

Despite what is sure to be a chaotic and nerve-wracking experience, I'm just so incredibly grateful that he will return (CONTINUING TO KNOCK ON WOOD) and, the more I think about it, the more I feel so lucky that we still have him. I try not to think about how close we came to not.

Thank you to everyone who has been so nice and supportive and understanding - but hey, look at the title of my blog. You knew when you started reading that I was a bit of a dog person. Just a little. But seriously, thank you so much.

me, my dog, my life

When Greg and I decided to get Junior, we weren't even engaged yet. We had just come off a year of trying very much to make us work - and things were looking good. But when he started talk of getting a dog, I wanted to make sure we were solid. There was no turning back. Because I knew once a puppy was in the picture, I was in it, for keeps. Junior was really our first born. The Number One Pup of All Time. That's what we've called him from the start.

***

After we got Junior, as an 18-pound 8-week-old puppy, we took him everywhere we went. He was the star of our Christmas cards, my Snapfish albums, my blogs. I used to carry him around when he was a puppy, and people always commented on how big his paws were, and how huge he was going to get. "Yes, he is," I said proudly. As if I had something to do with it. Anytime we go anywhere at all, Junior is the star of the show. People come up to him like he's a celebrity. Junior was, and still is, our first born. That just the place he naturally takes in our family.

***

One early November morning, Greg and I were getting ready to go to New York for the weekend. Junior was about 4 months old. Greg called me into the room and said that Junior had grabbed something of mine. I was so annoyed- with Junior, for once again chewing up something I loved, and Greg, for not saving whatever it was from Junior. So I pried Junior's ever-growing mouth open and retrieved a little black box. I didn't recognize it. Inside was my engagement ring. Junior played a very important role that day - and I wouldn't have wanted to get engaged any other way. I clearly remember weeping the morning we left for our two-week honeymoon to Hawaii. I missed him so much when we were gone.

***

During the summer of 2007, when Jane was born, I was up 24/7 - and my dogs stayed right by my side. Up all night, pacing back and forth with a crying, colicky baby, the dogs would hang out with me, wanting so badly to fall asleep, but keeping their eyes half open - not sure why it STILL wasn't time to go to bed yet. During many a crying jag by Jane, my weary eyes would meet Junior's across the room - an unspoken "Is she SERIOUSLY still crying?" passing between us.

***

Greg and I came home from Chicago yesterday, and picked up Junior and Jimmy from their three-day stay at doggy day care. Greg noticed that Junior hadn't eaten that much. Throughout the night (we realized in retrospect), he gorged on food and water. I let him out around 9 and when I went to get him back in, I noticed he was strangely gagging and hacking up a lot of foam. He was acting very strange. I mentioned it to Greg. Greg remembered that this is a sign of bloat, and called our vet tech friend. She told us to bring him in asap to the 24-hour emergency vet, so Greg took him and I stayed home with Jane.

I have to admit I didn't really think anything was wrong. We have brought Junior to the same emergency vet several times with digestive issues -and it was never a big deal. So I was shocked when Greg called to tell me that Junior had bloat, and needed to have surgery right away. And when he said he needed to talk to the vet to find out what Junior's chances of survival were, I was shocked out of my stupor and knew I had to be there. For my pup.

Bloat is a very serious thing that sometimes happens to big dogs, and if it's not treated quickly, they can die. From the moment we got Junior, we were told to watch out for bloat, and were told many a horror story about it. Basically their stomach flips around and gets twisted. The surgery un-twists it and then staples it - somehow - so it doesn't happen again. If you want to know more, Google it. I'm not going to - because I don't want to know more right now.

Our vet tech friend's husband was so great, and came over right away so I could go to the emergency vet. The surgeon showed up at the same time, and they started surgery. We were told that if everything was OK (no stomach damage, other organ damage, etc) that the success rate was about 80%. If there was stomach damage, it went to 50/50. And downhill from there. An hour and a half crawled by. No one was else was there but us - it was well after midnight at this point. I made a million promises to God and everyone else. I heard someone being paged to surgery, and my heart stopped. I heard weird beeping. My heart stopped again. Finally the doctor came out.

Junior was OK.

No permanent stomach damage or organ damage. They were working on waking him up. Now they needed to monitor him to see if any heart arrythmia (sp?) developed, which happens in 2/3 of dogs who have this surgery. But typically it works itself out. Plus he had all of the other recovering to do. He will be at the vet for 2-3 days, longer if the arrythmias (sp? too tired to look it up) crop up. But he should be OK. They are telling us that he should be OK.

People will read this and think I'm stupid for caring so much about a dog. Those people can eff off. He's my best friend. He has been there for the past 6 years of my life, very very important years. Junior, Greg and I were a little family for so long - and I'm just not ready for that part of my family to be gone. Not that I ever will.

But definitely not now.

chicago (the city, not the band)

So we're off to Chicago this weekend to see Greg's boyfriend Bono and the rest of U2 kick off their North American tour at Soldier Field. I can't believe I just typed that sentence. I can't believe how much I have done to prepare for this trip, and how none of what I've done includes coming up with an itinerary or packing or anything like that. In fact, if you ask me right now what airline we are flying on or what hotel we are staying at, I would say "I don't know." Because seriously, I don't remember.

This week has been very angsty. Very very very much happening at work, my stomach has been ON FIRE (per my previous posting about my recent stomach issues) and I've also been trying to school my mother and mother-in-law about what it takes to live in the world of Jane, as they will be taking care of her in shifts this weekend. On top of that, Jane has been having a HORRIBLE time when I drop her off at daycare, which essentially makes me cry when I leave and want to shoot myself because it's so sad.

So the fact that I'm going AWAY ON A PLANE (oh and yes, we are flying the morning of September 11, which for some reason makes me feel proud and all "eff you, terrorists") to a MAJOR AMERICAN CITY that I am mostly unfamiliar with but seems very cool, what with its PIZZA and OPRAH and BONO and what not, and that we are going to see a concert that is going to kick so much ass, is completely lost on me. It truly seems like it's not happening. Oh and don't doubt the fact that I will be crying like, oh, say, like Jane when she's being dropped off at daycare when I leave, because this is the first time I have been away from her for so long and oh I know, SHUT UP AMANDA, you're going to do something really cool, OK, I am going to stop typing now.

See ya on the flip side.

speak into my good ear

So it's been another sick week for me. Tuesday I felt like my cold might have been something a bit worse, so I hauled myself to the doctor and once he saw that I had a very red throat, fever and swollen glands, he gave me an antibiotic. I also talked to him about the stomach issues I've been having over the past few months (just feeling yuck) and I'm going to have bloodwork on that later in the month. I'm not going to turn this blog into a minute-by-minute update on my health, but I must admit I hate giving in and actually talking to a doctor about what is ailing me, and then having him actually validate my fears and order bloodwork (among other things). He doesn't think I'm dying - but Dr. Google assures me that I am. As Dr. Google always does, along with his colleague-in-death, Dr. WebMD.

So these antibiotics don't seem to be doing the job on my cold situation, because yesterday and today, my right ear is totally blocked. And it hurts. It doesn't hurt in that screamy way a definitely-infected ear hurts, but I have my suspicions. A call to the doctor's office this a.m. told me to just hang in there, if it is an ear infection, the antibiotics will take care of it.

But I'm getting on a plane in ONE WEEK for our big trip to CHICAGO to see Greg's boyfriend BONO, and I don't want to have ear problems on the plane or at the concert. So if this persists, I'm off to the doctor's office again next week.

But it's a holiday weekend. Yay! We actually got today off, but I'm working from home, as I am a slave to deadlines and whatnot. And deadlines don't stop for Labor Day! Oh no. Right now, I'm just staring at my in-box, hoping like hell it fills up with good news. Fast.

I hope everyone has a fabulous holiday weekend!

school. poop. the usual.

Dudes.

It's been crazy around here. And I realized that I have precious little to blog about if I'm not talking about Jane or work. Even James hasn't been in any trouble lately (CUE: trouble, probably within the next 24 hours).

So Jane updates it is.

Jane just transferred from her 1-2 year old room to the 2-3 year old room at daycare - something that caused no shortage of upheaval in the house, from both her and me. She is so ready, and has already spent a considerable amount of time in her new classroom anyway, but STILL. She had to leave behind her (and MY) favorite teacher. And here's one for you - when I went to pick her up on her last day in that classroom on Friday, I walked in to see and hear her fave teacher kissing her and telling her she loved her. And her back was turned to me, so it wasn't even all staged because she saw me coming. My heart could not handle this. AT ALL. Her first day in her new class went fine and I'm hoping I'll love the new teachers as much. WE'LL SEE.

She also has been doing a nightly trick where she pulls off her diaper in the middle of the night, which culminated in a crusty poop EXTRAVAGANZA early Sunday morning that had me hightailing it to Babies R Us to get a nice zippable, buttonable sleeper. If that doesn't work, out comes the duct tape. Because seriously.

So yeah. That's what's going on over here. School drama, poop drama. And tomorrow is September. Fall. WTF? How did this happen?

so I got up on time.

And now for the exciting conclusion to my previous post - yes, I got up on time. I woke up at about 2:30 a.m. in a complete panic that I missed my alarm, and then proceeded to wake up every 10 minutes after that until 3:45 a.m. when I threw in the towel and got up five minutes early. I hit the wall at 1:30 p.m. and left work. I went to the library and then read a whole bunch of a book I'm reading for one of my book clubs, A Confederacy of Dunces. Have you read this? It's hysterical. And slightly insane. More than slightly. Anywho.

Tomorrow my department (such that it is) is going on a retreat that will take me far and away from my desk. Which is magnificent and lovely and all good things.

Hope you're having a good week.

early.

Tomorrow morning I have to be at work at 4:30 a.m. This usually happens once a year for a special event thingy we do every summer. FOUR THIRTY AYEM. This is 8 hours and 50 minutes from now. I just set my alarm for 3:50 a.m. (See, I am going to shower tonight and wear a hat tomorrow, cutting down my getting-ready time drastically.) (Of course my getting-ready time has already been drastically cut down after having Jane.) (Seriously - I guess I should just feel lucky that I shower every morning. Make that, my co-workers should feel lucky.) Anywho, I quadruple-checked my alarm clock and will do so again numerous times before I go to bed.

And speaking of going to bed. Despite the fact that I have fallen asleep before 9:30 for the past two nights, I can guarantee that I won't be able to fall asleep until at least 11 tonight. And then I will wake up. Repeatedly. Why? BECAUSE I WILL BE WORRIED ABOUT WAKING UP.

So by noon tomorrow, I should be a zombie-fied drooling disaster. I suppose it good this only happens once a year, huh? And the funniest thing is, I'm only really getting up an hour and ten minutes early. It's not that big of a deal. But think of me when you get up and go to work or start your day at a reasonable hour. Because I will probably think it's already lunchtime.

project: small joys

So, when you're working full time and you have a two-year-old, the drudgery of life sometimes seems like it has no end. When said two-year-old is treating bathtime like you are dipping her in boiling acid, it's easy to see why, by the end of the day, I'm feeling bruised and battered. It's go, go, go from 5 a.m. until bedtime - wiping butts, wiping noses, wiping up messes, cleaning the dog's ever-infected ears, cleaning up toys, doing laundry, yardwork, blah blah blah until you find yourself asking your spouse, "Where's the joy?"

Which is not to say there is no joy in my life. Quite the opposite. I just don't think I take the time to appreciate it, because I'm too preoccupied with what the next chore on the list is. It's not good. Sure, this is probably the most complicated and responsibility-laden portion of my life so far, but there's lots of positive stuff to appreciate. So I've decided to stop and smell the proverbial roses - to start this occasional series called "project: small joys." This isn't about the major, obvious joys - this is about the little things that make your day brighter. That you look forward to. That put a smile on your face.

And with that, my first small joy is Starbucks' Caramel Frappuccino Light. I have found an excuse to have one of these every day this week. I'm a wee bit obsessed. I also found myself getting pissed when the girl forgot to drizzle the caramel on the one I had on Wednesday - or was it Tuesday? Oh, it's so delicious and happy-making. Frappuccinos are one of the things that define summer for me - and summer is definitely here, what with the 90+ degree weather we've had for the past week.

Silly, I know. But it's a small joy. What's yours?

weekend. update.

Sorry that’s it’s been so quiet here this past week – I really don’t have much to talk about. Greg is basically recovered from his virus, but I’ve been feeling kinda crappy for most of the week. It’s been overall really quiet and – dare I say – boring around here. Which I know can be a good thing.

This weekend promises to be busy. Greg and I are actually going out alone tonight – to have dinner with real, adult-sized people – and leaving Jane with my niece, who is almost 14. I’m excited to have finally taken advantage of her as an official babysitter, versus begging my sisters, mother and mother-in-law to babysit. This just feels better, because we’re paying her, and I don’t feel guilty about asking, like I do with the others. Plus, it will be nice to go out and not have to hold my breath the entire time that Jane won’t lose her shit.

Tomorrow we are going out on the boat with some of my friends, and then tomorrow night I’m going to dinner and a show with Todd and Alan. Yes, you read that right – I’m going out TWO NIGHTS IN A ROW. And by “going out,” I don’t mean rehearsal! It’s amazing.

Sunday another friend of mine is coming over in the morning with her son, and then we are going to a birthday party in the afternoon. Like I said – it’s busy. I wish I felt better, and not so run down, but other than that, I’m psyched it’s Friday, particularly because there is no rain in the forecast for the weekend, which, if you live in the Northeast, you know is an early Christmas miracle.

What are you up to?

vacation day FAIL.

So today. My plan was to take today off as a vacation day and go to the beach. The forecast was gorgeous, and today was the last day of the calm before the storm at work.

What I didn't expect was for my self-proclaimed holiday to kick off at 1:30 a.m. with a trip to the emergency room. See, Greg has had a weird virus thingy all week - he's been in a ton of pain (muscles) and had a fever for a few days at the beginning of the week. He went to the doctor who diagnosed it as an upper respiratory infection and gave him an antibiotic. Even at the time, it seemed odd - Greg had no signs of any respiratory anything. On Wednesday he was still in a lot of pain, so he called his doctor again, who prescribed industrial strength Motrin, which did seem to help. But last night, he woke up in the middle of the night unable to move anything, and felt very lightheaded. So I woke Jane up, put her in the car, and off we went to the ER.

(a side note: check out this total mom thing I did. When I got Jane up, I made sure to change her shirt, put shoes on her and COMB HER HAIR. There was a large part of my brain that seriously was wondering whether Greg was having a heart attack or something, and in the meantime, I'm PRIMPING MY KID.)

I was completely freaked out. It's very unlike Greg to take middle-of-the-night trips to the hospital. I also had no idea what to do with Jane. Bring her in and pray she falls asleep in the stroller? But I didn't want to expose her to all of the germs. Plus I knew she'd never fall asleep. So I dropped Greg off and went home (we live very close to this hospital) to wait.

I can't tell you how much it sucked. I was so worried and I hated not being there. I was calling him every half hour to see what was going on, and I was so frustrated that they didn't even talk to him until 4 a.m. I wanted to be there to throw dirty looks at people, at least. When they finally saw him, they decided he was probably dehydrated (something I suspected earlier in the week), put him on fluids, did a chest x-ray and blood tests, and proceeded to ignore him for the next four hours.

I stayed awake the entire time, got Jane ready for daycare when she woke up, dropped her off and went off to the hospital. A doctor FINALLY came by to basically say "too bad, so sad, there's nothing we can do for you, go home and drink fluids and rest" - and in the meantime, Greg could barely stumble out of the hospital without falling down. So we came home, I forced him to drink a lot (of water, not alcohol, which would have made the situation a lot more entertaining than it actually was), and walk around to loosen up his muscles. He definitely got better throughout the day, but now he's back in bed. I'm hoping he doesn't have another night like last night. I can't have another night like last night. It was scary.

But wait! There's more! When I got Greg settled at home this morning, I let the dogs out. We have some guys clearing the lot in our backyard, and unbeknownst to us, the invisible fence line in our backyard was...clipped? broken? I'm not sure what the right word is, but it WASN'T WORKING.

I was heading out to do some chores when I realized young Jimmy hadn't come back in. I called him from the front. No Jimmy. I walked around the back and asked the guys working if they'd seen him. Sure enough, he had headed way out past the range of the invisible fence, about 15 minutes prior.

Well. I turned into a lunatic. I was screaming his name, shaking a box of treats, all the while having absolutely no idea if I was even close to heading in the right direction. The guys working in our yard were calling for him, the Connecticut Light and Power guys that were working in the area were looking for him...and THANK GOD I found his sorry ass down the road, frolicking (yes, frolicking) with another dog and two of my super-elderly neighbors. As soon as I saw him, I totally started crying. I mean, a girl can handle only so much drama on a couple of hours of sleep.

So there you have it. My fabulous, over-the-top, high drama vacation day FAIL.

this picture kills me

I have looked at this AP photo a number of times today, and it has made me tear up every single time. I simply cannot imagine how beyond ecstatic Euna Lee was to be reunited with her family and that little girl of hers.

control alt delete.

I've got a problem.

The first thing I do in the morning - even before I go out walking at 5:15 a.m. - is check my email. When I come home from work, the first thing I do is turn on my computer and screw around on the internet while I'm getting Jane's dinner and feeding the dogs and checking the mail and cleaning sippy cups and all of the other glamorous chores that comprise my evenings. This is after spending the bulk of the work day in front of the computer. At night I often half-watch TV with my laptop powered up. It's a problem. It's not cool. And I think it's an issue more and more of us have, as we travel around all day with CrackBerries and iPhones and whatever - in virtual contact with thousands of people, at the expense of actually making fully-committed connections with the people in front of us. I'm afraid Jane thinks my hands are glued to the keyboard.

I think it gives all of us a certain degree of attention deficit disorder. We are so overloaded all the time - ALL THE TIME - with messages and information and texts and blah blah blahhhh that just simply sitting there, having a conversation with someone, or watching TV without any distractions, feels like you're not using your time to its maximum potential - because, you know, checking FACEBOOK is so incredibly important. The most amazing thing is how relaxing it feels to just focus on one single activity, instead of juggling three things at the same time, with your eyeballs glued to an ever-present screen.

So I made a promise to myself to quit the computer crap before work and after work, only logging on after Jane goes to bed. I'm really going to try to just watch TV and not half-watch, half-surf. That's not relaxing, and I think on some level, it stresses me out. We don't let our brains calm down. It's making all of us crazy. At least, it's making me crazy.

Am I the only one who feels this way?

me. only better.

Wait...is this even possible?

Anyway, thanks for all of the suggestions on my previous post! Um. I guess I should just assume that everyone pretty much knows everything they would ever want to know about me. Maybe it's time to close up shop? Probably. For today, I will continue with my self-obsessed, narcissistic ways and talk EVEN MORE about myself. Me, me, me. With extra me!

Ten years ago this month, I began what was the biggest weight-loss process of my life. I've written about it before, but once a fat girl, always a fat girl (at least in the head - I am not saying I have a fat head). Ten years ago I was 25 years old and approximately 60 pounds heaver than I currently am. Through diet and exercise, I managed to lose 60 pounds. Then I gained back 10. Then I lost 20! I was at my super-skinniest when I got married, because the bridal stress was literally eating me alive. I got myself to a more reasonable weight (for me) (gained about 5 lbs) and maintained until I got pregnant, when I gained 30 lbs (totally reasonable weight gain for pregnancy). I lost 27 of those pounds, but having that baby shifted my whole body structure around so certain things are bigger and certain things are smaller than pre-pregnancy - even though I'm basically the same weight.

Whew! Anyway, the point is, here I am. Just about ten years later. Considering the only real time I gained was pregnancy, I think it's safe to say I maintained my weight loss fairly well. Also considering the fact that the vast majority of people who lose a lot of weight gain it all back or most of it back within five years, I'm pretty proud.

However.

I could stand to be healthier, overall. I've been feeling yuck on and off, as you know, and have been attributing it to things like stress and the way I eat and why don't I just go to a doctor I KNOW I KNOW. I decided this month I was going to really try to change how I eat. See, even though I am essentially eating and exercising the same way I did way back when I was 25, I'm not losing weight. And although I'm really not in the market to lose 60 pounds, I find it strange that by doing nearly the exact same thing, I'm getting nowhere near the same results. Goodbye, metabolism. I'll miss you.

So in celebration of this 10 year victory of mine, I'm declaring August my personal "get healthier" month. I will try to avoid the chocolate. And the vending machine at work. And Dunkin Donuts (that will be a tough one). Wish me luck!