Things can change and things usually do. I am in the middle of a visit to North Carolina for a first time intro to Rebekah, my newest grandbaby. She is most precious and of great value to everyone. She single handily changed Scott and Mary's life. Those are her parents and quite smitten with her as well. She pretty much rules the roost, which is not a bad thing as she doesn't have a hidden agenda *straight forward, feed me, change me, hold me and love me* doesn't get much easier than that. However her MO can change at a wink of her eye and so, change is good or not considering who is changing. I love the "rules" of first time parents, like myself, which start out with all good things intended but as the brood grows, get abandoned in the long run. Change is good.
I love all that encompasses with being a parent and the family dynamics of those close to you. Everyone has an opinion, and some feel more justified in expressing their "wise words". I guess the bottom line is your children are under your stewardship and anything you end of doing is what you think is best. I think it is best to give them Independence, love, and confidence. Those are my wise words, if anyone is listening! And I am NOT changing that tune!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Sibling mystery
I will never figure my sister out and I already have! How can one person spend their life capsulized by anger and thinking that nothing will be effected by that? Just wondering. When we were growing up, she was the Alpha child by a long shot. The rest of us just went along for the bumpy ride. I decided early on that by annoying everyone and teasing the living daylights out of the group, I would get some attention ~ negative was fine, just pay SOME attention over here... I guess I was hard to live with, but maturity found it's way to my MO and I changed. Not so for Chris. Her very distinctive handwriting on an envelope is always reason for concern. Do you really know what is going to be inside? Nay Nay, but you can almost guarantee you don't want to find out.... however curiosity always gets the better of you and BAM! there it is... cynical, backhanded comments and the subject matter is always - you guessed it - Chris.
Got the letter Thursday. Opened on the way to the house. Stared in disbelief at contents. Showed it to David *(always the calm head in the house). Filed it in the round container that has residual smells of rotten food and whala! all done. Reply? Don't think so.
Got the letter Thursday. Opened on the way to the house. Stared in disbelief at contents. Showed it to David *(always the calm head in the house). Filed it in the round container that has residual smells of rotten food and whala! all done. Reply? Don't think so.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Carlos 1996-2008
I am still reeling from the events of yesterday. Two days ago, Carlos, our most beautiful snow-shoe-Manx was complaining of not being able to use the cat box. We have been down this road before as seasoned cat owners and knew that we would be visiting the vet first thing in the morning. He was more uncomfortable than other incidents, and crying very loudly. I kept on trying to reassure him that we would take care of him and wanting to give him some cat-aspirin or something.... Wednesday, David took him at 7 a.m. (bless the vet) to the office whereas they announced that he was in need of surgery and had a blockage. Cost= $900.00. Reaction=oh no. After some deliberation, we decided that our budget and sensibilities were are risk too, and the final decision was to put Carlos to sleep.
I am sad, he was my warrior/survivor/companion for 12 years. I am mad that I was not prepared to be a good steward for his care.
Carlos was so wonderful in a lot of ways. He took on the role of "alarm clock" when I started working in San Jose and needed to get up at 4 a.m. His range of meows was matched by no other cat I know. His "Get up and feed me and oh yes, you can take a shower and get ready for work too, but first things first..... FEED ME!" was both appreciated (I never over slept) and despised (hence the water bottle sprayer on the night stand). He scoulded. He loved and took care of the other cats, always the grandpa ~ gentle, playful and stern all at the same time.
My little shop of horrors kitty was happy in Santa Cruz. His growing up in San Jose was less than wonderful, especially after he was taken from us by who knows what kind of diabolical person and tortured, found his way away from that and came home traumatized. It took me 3 years to get him to stand still for a petting. After we moved to Santa Cruz, he let out a collective sigh and decided that he was finally safe.
I will never forget him.
I am sad, he was my warrior/survivor/companion for 12 years. I am mad that I was not prepared to be a good steward for his care.
Carlos was so wonderful in a lot of ways. He took on the role of "alarm clock" when I started working in San Jose and needed to get up at 4 a.m. His range of meows was matched by no other cat I know. His "Get up and feed me and oh yes, you can take a shower and get ready for work too, but first things first..... FEED ME!" was both appreciated (I never over slept) and despised (hence the water bottle sprayer on the night stand). He scoulded. He loved and took care of the other cats, always the grandpa ~ gentle, playful and stern all at the same time.
My little shop of horrors kitty was happy in Santa Cruz. His growing up in San Jose was less than wonderful, especially after he was taken from us by who knows what kind of diabolical person and tortured, found his way away from that and came home traumatized. It took me 3 years to get him to stand still for a petting. After we moved to Santa Cruz, he let out a collective sigh and decided that he was finally safe.
I will never forget him.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Shamed and caught up.
I am properly shamed into adding a post to the blog. Stephanie *wonderful daughter* is so faithful with her blog that as I was reading it I thought, "I don't remember her telling me this?!" But of course, IF I had kept up with her blog and she with mine, we would be in a whole new world of communication.
So, let me begin by bringing some of you up to snuff with the latest. On November 21, 2008 I underwent gastric bypass, also known as Duodual Switch, which is a fancy way of saying I now have use of 1/3 of my previous stomach capacity. Very interesting, at least to me, as this procedure has lead to a loss of about 55 pounds since said operation.
Fast forward to the changes involved with such a drastic decision. I never thought it would be the "easy way out", just that I had battled with this weight over the last 26 years and frankly I was tired of losing ..... the battle. I also considered the health issues of high blood pressure, pre-diabetics, and loss of energy. I felt I had a lot to live for and short circuiting it with added pounds wasn't in my best interest.
I was not totally prepared for the journey. I didn't know that I would come to "hate" food. You see, part of the program is consuming 60 grams of protein a day, 2 liters of fluid *water*, and exercising 4-5 times a week (when your body is ready for it). 60 grams of protein is like, A LOT of protein. Oatmeal, 1/2 cup = 4 grams. I can't eat a half cup!!! 1/2 Chicken breast = 8 grams. If I could take more than 4 bites it would be great! So, you get the picture??? Hence, I have resorted to protein drinks. Ah, yes, those wonderful grainy, gag if you will, liquids that give a bang for the buck. I found some online that claimed to have 50 grams in the bottle! Whoo Whoo... except I cracked one open last night and said, " Who let the cough medicine out, who??" It was thick and too sweet (even though it claimed to be sugar free) and had that ingredient the makes you twitch and cringe when you swallow, like cough medicine!!
When I do cook now, which is another reason I hate food, I think about how I used to cook and come up with all these intriguing flavors, textures, and combinations and present a good meal. Now, I have to think mono item on the plate, yes protein, and to heck with the sauces, spices, and side dishes. Poor David, he is used to something so different, but he doesn't complain at the single fish fillet of salmon, again. I am frustrated at my lack of inspiration. I take a bite and nothing tastes, well, like it should. I have heard from the support group I go to that this will change....none to quickly for me!
On to the exercise portion of this blog. Well, I always thought that if you weren't sitting in a chair 8 hours a day, yes, you were exercising. I thought I would join a gym, but money being tight I have to be more creative. Like, on Wednesday, I arrived a work to a totally blacked out building. Power outages bring new opportunities. I work on the 6th floor. So, even though I wouldn't be able to log on to the computer, I logged onto 6 flights of stairs for my exercise! Wow, was great until I got to the 5th floor in the stairwell and the door suddenly opened with a strange man on the other side! Yikes! I about fell the 5 floors down again. Not in the exercise program. After I regained my composure, I completed the last floor, totally out of breath. But with the light bulb going off in my head, I proceeded to "take the stairs" the next two days. Cheap, good exercise. And I thought that if on a particular day I didn't want to take the whole 6 floors, I could just get off and take the elevator the rest of the way! Pretty clever, hun?
Another benefit of the weight loss is fitting into the clothes I have in a more intended way. No more buttons straining against the bod. Pants that I can now breath in. You get the picture. Well, another downfall of the weight loss is NOT fitting into the clothes I have!! HEE HEE. I almost walked out of a pair of pants I had on last week. Belts. Suspenders. Maybe they are a way of life for me now. I decided not to invest in a new wardrobe until I was sufficiently down in weight. But I did take advantage of my local Target for one pair of cheap jeans. I figure that can carry me through without breaking the bank. I went to the "fat ladies" department on auto pilot. Checked out the sizes and thought, "OK, I have on a pair of 24's that are pretty lose, what number should I look for?". I ventured to the 20's and took a pair of 18's on a whim. Well, lo and behold, the 18's fit!! Ok, I am not into numbers on a regular basis, but I can't remember the last time I saw 18 except on the way up! It was a good feeling. Now for a delicate subject. We are talking the tatas... they go away, sort of making a full cirlce from age 11 to now. You worry you won't have any and then you have too much *I am talking first person now*, and then they go away again. At this point it is sort of a fold and roll process. Enough said. That is the one thing I believe plastic surgery is good for. Tatas. Not to make them bigger, but better.
So, you can see that the blog has resurfaced again, I have caught up with the latest and the latest.
I am looking forward to adding more, like the trip to North Carolina on Feb.13th to see our newest family member, Rebekah! I get to travel with Stephanie and Jimmy and Kaitlin. Kaitlin is so absolutely, wonderful! When I talked to her a couple of days ago, I told her that we get to fly together to see Rebekah. She was very excited too, and then she told me, "you know what I want to be when I grow up? I want to be a pilot, a teacher, a cheerleader, a firefighter......." I said, Katilin that is going to make you a very busy girl! What are you going to do when you are flying a plane and there is a fire? She giggled. Sweet. So sweet!
So, let me begin by bringing some of you up to snuff with the latest. On November 21, 2008 I underwent gastric bypass, also known as Duodual Switch, which is a fancy way of saying I now have use of 1/3 of my previous stomach capacity. Very interesting, at least to me, as this procedure has lead to a loss of about 55 pounds since said operation.
Fast forward to the changes involved with such a drastic decision. I never thought it would be the "easy way out", just that I had battled with this weight over the last 26 years and frankly I was tired of losing ..... the battle. I also considered the health issues of high blood pressure, pre-diabetics, and loss of energy. I felt I had a lot to live for and short circuiting it with added pounds wasn't in my best interest.
I was not totally prepared for the journey. I didn't know that I would come to "hate" food. You see, part of the program is consuming 60 grams of protein a day, 2 liters of fluid *water*, and exercising 4-5 times a week (when your body is ready for it). 60 grams of protein is like, A LOT of protein. Oatmeal, 1/2 cup = 4 grams. I can't eat a half cup!!! 1/2 Chicken breast = 8 grams. If I could take more than 4 bites it would be great! So, you get the picture??? Hence, I have resorted to protein drinks. Ah, yes, those wonderful grainy, gag if you will, liquids that give a bang for the buck. I found some online that claimed to have 50 grams in the bottle! Whoo Whoo... except I cracked one open last night and said, " Who let the cough medicine out, who??" It was thick and too sweet (even though it claimed to be sugar free) and had that ingredient the makes you twitch and cringe when you swallow, like cough medicine!!
When I do cook now, which is another reason I hate food, I think about how I used to cook and come up with all these intriguing flavors, textures, and combinations and present a good meal. Now, I have to think mono item on the plate, yes protein, and to heck with the sauces, spices, and side dishes. Poor David, he is used to something so different, but he doesn't complain at the single fish fillet of salmon, again. I am frustrated at my lack of inspiration. I take a bite and nothing tastes, well, like it should. I have heard from the support group I go to that this will change....none to quickly for me!
On to the exercise portion of this blog. Well, I always thought that if you weren't sitting in a chair 8 hours a day, yes, you were exercising. I thought I would join a gym, but money being tight I have to be more creative. Like, on Wednesday, I arrived a work to a totally blacked out building. Power outages bring new opportunities. I work on the 6th floor. So, even though I wouldn't be able to log on to the computer, I logged onto 6 flights of stairs for my exercise! Wow, was great until I got to the 5th floor in the stairwell and the door suddenly opened with a strange man on the other side! Yikes! I about fell the 5 floors down again. Not in the exercise program. After I regained my composure, I completed the last floor, totally out of breath. But with the light bulb going off in my head, I proceeded to "take the stairs" the next two days. Cheap, good exercise. And I thought that if on a particular day I didn't want to take the whole 6 floors, I could just get off and take the elevator the rest of the way! Pretty clever, hun?
Another benefit of the weight loss is fitting into the clothes I have in a more intended way. No more buttons straining against the bod. Pants that I can now breath in. You get the picture. Well, another downfall of the weight loss is NOT fitting into the clothes I have!! HEE HEE. I almost walked out of a pair of pants I had on last week. Belts. Suspenders. Maybe they are a way of life for me now. I decided not to invest in a new wardrobe until I was sufficiently down in weight. But I did take advantage of my local Target for one pair of cheap jeans. I figure that can carry me through without breaking the bank. I went to the "fat ladies" department on auto pilot. Checked out the sizes and thought, "OK, I have on a pair of 24's that are pretty lose, what number should I look for?". I ventured to the 20's and took a pair of 18's on a whim. Well, lo and behold, the 18's fit!! Ok, I am not into numbers on a regular basis, but I can't remember the last time I saw 18 except on the way up! It was a good feeling. Now for a delicate subject. We are talking the tatas... they go away, sort of making a full cirlce from age 11 to now. You worry you won't have any and then you have too much *I am talking first person now*, and then they go away again. At this point it is sort of a fold and roll process. Enough said. That is the one thing I believe plastic surgery is good for. Tatas. Not to make them bigger, but better.
So, you can see that the blog has resurfaced again, I have caught up with the latest and the latest.
I am looking forward to adding more, like the trip to North Carolina on Feb.13th to see our newest family member, Rebekah! I get to travel with Stephanie and Jimmy and Kaitlin. Kaitlin is so absolutely, wonderful! When I talked to her a couple of days ago, I told her that we get to fly together to see Rebekah. She was very excited too, and then she told me, "you know what I want to be when I grow up? I want to be a pilot, a teacher, a cheerleader, a firefighter......." I said, Katilin that is going to make you a very busy girl! What are you going to do when you are flying a plane and there is a fire? She giggled. Sweet. So sweet!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
