6 weeks out now

Today it has been 6 weeks since my RNY and my scale says I have lost 40 pounds.  The other weights were all from professional scales at the doctor's office, but I am guessing this is pretty close.  I am not eating or drinking nearly enough, which is actually a bad thing, but the flu made it almost impossible to do either.  I am feeling better today than I have in the past couple of weeks, so hopefully that is almost gone and I can get back to some semblance of normalcy...whatever that is.  


Hope everyone has a great day today and enjoys the wonderful cold.    :)


~k

One month postop and feeling great :)

I can hardly believe it's been exactly one month since surgery, nor can I believe how fast this year flew by.  I don't know what happened, but it's suddenly December 1, 2010!!  

I am feeling great and eating a full diet now, basically whatever I choose.  So far, so good.  As of this morning, I am down 31 pounds since surgery and feeling pretty good about that.  I have a ton to go, but I'm not in a hurry.  I'm still having some difficulty getting in all the protein and remembering all the vitamins, but I'm doing the best I can.  I go for my first lab test in about 3 weeks, so that will be the real measuring stick.  I have read and heard the horror stories of people who don't take their vitamins or get in their protein and I don't want to be one of them.  Some malabsorption cannot be avoided; it's simply the nature of the beast.  I just have to do my best to be sure I don't end up on the "bad" side of this particular beast.

Another thing I can hardly believe...it's all becoming real to me that my baby will start college next fall.  I couldn't be more thrilled that he's going to my alma mater, I just cannot believe he's that old.  Where has the time gone??  He's retaking the ACT next Saturday, trying to achieve a 33 or 34 so that he can up the scholarships (hopefully).  Then we begin filling out FAFSA, grant and scholarship applications, making housing decisions, et cetera ad nauseam.  And we haven't even done his senior pictures yet.  Yikes.  But one thing I know for certain.  I will be at the doors to the Mabee Center at 5 p.m. on the day he graduates.  I don't need to learn that lesson twice!  The only way to get a seat so that you can actually see your child without binoculars is to get there when the doors open and make a mad run for it.  I'm ready!!!  Just not ready for him to graduate...

*sigh*

I wanna drink! AND during a meal!

Maybe I just drink more liquid with my meals than others.  I don't know.  But it is just bizarre and wrong to not be able to take a sip of something while I'm eating.  I am sitting here now, having my pseudo-lunch thing, and I have to physically restrain myself from picking up the water bottle beside me and taking a swig after every few bites.  It's usually safer for me to just not have a drink on the table at all while I am eating.  I understand the reasoning behind this rule, but I don't have to like it.  I would challenge anyone to try this at their next meal.  Every time you reach for your glass of water/pop/tea/whatever, stop and tell yourself NO.  Then when you are finished eating, set a timer and don't let yourself have a drink for another 30 minutes.  Maybe it's just me, but this type of thing seems cruel and unusual punishment when I am supposed to drink 64 ounces of liquid a day and then can't have it when I want it most!


But it's a fairly good day protein-wise for me because I just finished 35 grams, half my requirement for the day, and I've still got about 8 hours to fit in the rest.  Yesterday I felt bad all day and just couldn't force the food or drink down.  As long as I can keep those bad days to a minimum, everything will be okay.  Now if I can just remember all the vitamins...


~k

first postoperative check-in with Dr. G.

First time on a scale since before surgery and I'm down 25 pounds.  Hooray!  If I weren't feeling so tired today, I would be even more excited.  I don't know why, but I just cannot seem to get the fog to clear from my brain this afternoon.  The nurse at Dr. G's office told me it's probably because I am having trouble getting in all my protein, and she may be right.  But I did manage to get at least 65 grams in on Wednesday and Thursday, so I'm getting better.  I must admit that it is MUCH more difficult than I ever imagined.  I have almost decided that the people who do manage to get in all their protein and all their water must not sleep at night.  Using the full 24 hours is about the only way I can figure they are doing it.  The pouch only holds a tiny amount and it takes a long time to eat.  So there's no time or room for anything but protein.  Since we aren't allowed to drink anything at all from 30 minutes before a meal until 30 minutes after, you can see how getting 64 ounces of fluids in a day gets to be a little tricky.  


Ah well, I am not complaining.  I will work through it and do my best, just like the hundreds of thousands of other people before me.  I have been extremely fortunate, indeed, as I have had no complications whatsoever thus far and I feel really great most of the time.  No trouble with any foods I've tried, no feelings of nausea or unease in the GI tract, no unexpected pain, nada.  


So yeah, I'm pretty pleased with 25 pounds in 22 days.  The loss won't stay at such a high rate for long, nor do I want it to.  If there's only one lesson I've learned in my 20 years of struggle with weight fluctuation it is that the faster you lose it, the faster you find it again.  I know that with a pouch so small, my chances are much improved this time around...but still, I'd rather lose it slowly. 


Thanks so much to my friends and family for your thoughts and prayers.  I know God heard you and I am thankful He has made this such a breeze thus far.  I will remember you in my prayers, too, and my thanks to God for you and your faith and friendship.  


Love to you all :)

finally got around to writing my review for Carnival Cruise Lines...

I finally went to Carnival.com and submitted my comment/opinion about our recent cruise (October 17 - 24, Carnival Conquest, out of Galveston).


My family and I sailed on the Carnival Conquest out of Galveston, October 17-24, 2010.  This was our fourth or fifth Carnival cruise and it was absolutely our last.  From the very first contact we had at the terminal until we departed the ship back at Galveston, this was the worst cruise experience of our lives.  The terminal agent could not be bothered to smile even one time at us, and basically mumbled at me so that I had to ask her to repeat every single question.  Not only was she not friendly, she was slow.  She also screwed up our booking so that Carnival was convinced we had 3 Spencer Coleses traveling with us.  Our balcony suite was directly above a bar where a tone-deaf band played every evening at approximately 1000 decibels.  When we asked to be moved or at least have the band turn it down a bit, we were basically told "too bad".  We could not converse in our suite, it was that loud.  The paintings on the walls shook and the bass caused the entire room to tremble.  It was beyond ridiculous.  The fact that any cruise professionals would put any human being in that room speaks volumes for that cruise line's care of their customers.  Every employee on that ship, with the exception of our room steward and our waiter, was so rude that it was nearly not believable.  They could not smile to save their lives, and if they needed something from a buffet line, they simply elbowed their way in and over you without a single word of apology or even an "excuse me".    I could complain about the food being sub par, but that pales in comparison to every other experience on that ship.  Our last Carnival cruise before this one was years ago and we swore then, NEVER AGAIN.  But, as usual, you offered something extremely cheap and we, like fools, jumped at the chance for a balcony room.  Our entire vacation was ruined and it was completely miserable as we could not even converse in our own suite.  We also had the privilege of having neighbors who believed that since they got up at 7 a.m. each morning, everyone should get up at that time.  They turned on their stereo as loud as they pleased AND opened their stateroom door every morning so that everyone could enjoy it with them.  But that was nothing more than anything we should have expected, since the entire ship was filled with absolutely the most inconsiderate, rude and low-class people we have ever seen.  But you get what you pay for, and that's exactly the clientele that you attract.  We will be absolutely certain to go with any other cruise line in future, as long as it is not owned by or called Carnival.  It was the biggest waste of money of our lives and we basically had 10 days stolen from us that we could have spent doing anything else.  And ANYTHING else would have been better.  You are the cheapest and it's obvious you don't pay your employees anything or they would care more about keeping customers happy.  But when you are the cheapest cruise line, this is to be expected.  With our experience, Carnival should have paid us, not the other way around.  


So thank you again for taking thousands from me and ensuring that the last cruise we would probably get to take with our parents and our children all together was a complete disaster. 

Chloe and I reunited :)

Best day of recovery so far, simply because I decided I wasn't waiting any longer to take Chloe out for a spin.  It was glorious!!!  Gorgeous, cool night, moon-roof open, stereo blasting....heaven.  Have I mentioned how much I love Chloe?  

John also found me a new Snapple flavor at QT and it is awesome!  It's called Noni Berry Refresh (no calories, 2 carbs) and my favorite drink on the planet at the moment.  Oh, and he also brought home Pei Wei Wonton soup (strained all the stuff out of it, of course) and I thought I went to heaven.  Something that was almost real food!!!!

Chloe, wonton soup and Snapple.  Good day.

~k

looking forward to cottage cheese!!!

Yes, that's what I said.  COTTAGE CHEESE!!  Beginning exactly 2 weeks after surgery, I finally get to try some solid food.  I've been on liquids since 4 days prior to surgery, which makes it about day 11 now, and I'm ready to try chewing something.  Anything.  John had a cheeseburger last night while running errands and he smelled so good when he got home that I actually licked his hand.  I won't even tell you what he said after that about his future food endeavors relating to his anatomy, but suffice it to say that I giggled until I had to smack him upside the head because laughing hurts.


One of my favorite meals just happens to be cottage cheese and applesauce together.  I am praying my tastes haven't changed so much that I won't like it anymore because it will be really disappointing after all the drooling I'm going to be doing this week while counting down to next Monday.  I can also have sugar-free pudding, which I am thrilled about because I can put my protein powders in those and be able to avoid at least a few shakes here and there.


But protein shakes and vitamins will be part of my life until I die.  There is no negotiation on this point; my life and health depend upon it.   Having done Medifast and lost nearly all my hair a few years ago, it is a lesson I need not learn again.  Quit taking protein powder/shakes (70 grams per day) and hair loss will be just the beginning of one's problems after WLS.  Right now my vitamins are roughly the size of tennis balls and take me forever to get through, but I am hoping I can find some liquid type in future.  


But back to the cottage cheese.  I am literally drooling over it at this moment.  John said he would make me some beef broth for lunch, but he's into some game now and I'm obviously going to have to pretend to get out of bed so he will freak out and go do it.  I try to tell him I am supposed to be up and moving every hour, as much as I can tolerate, but he still hates for me to get up for any reason.  I finally talked him into helping me shower this morning and that was about all he could handle for stress.  I must admit, though, I am still so weak (I can only assume from lack of food) that the shower was absolutely exhausting and I am still recovering from it.  But the important thing is that I now smell good again.  And while we're on the TMI front, I really, desperately need to shave my legs but John absolutely freaks out if I mention it and he forbids it.  Since he is still giving me Lovenox (blood thinner) injections in my belly every morning, I really don't want to be cut because I'm not sure I would stop bleeding at this point.  So I have really hairy legs.  And I don't care for it much.


Enough information for ya??  :)


~k

Day 3 postop, and...

...and it's painful.  Not as painful as hard labor with no anesthetic, but it's a close second.  My entire belly hurts if I try to move in almost any direction, and getting out of bed is just exhausting.  However, I did not write this update to complain.  I know the potential complications of this stuff and I seem to be cruising right along at the expected rate of recovery.  I need to be up and moving more than I am, I'm sure, but I can only handle about 5-6 trips out of bed per day at this rate.   I am, however, making sure to get in all my protein shakes and liquids, along with using my SCDs so as to avoid DVTs, PEs and all the other really bad stuff.  John has to give me a shot of Lovenox in my belly every morning, and that's a real treat, let me tell you.  I'm supposed to give them to myself, but I figure they must be kidding because that's just ridiculous.  Luckily, John doesn't scream and faint at the sight of a needle and so he can handle it.


The most entertaining event since coming home was watching John pull out my On-Q pain pump catheters last night.  Each little tube is about 14 inches long and they ran down each side of my belly (just under the skin) to administer the anesthetic to fight some of the pain.  The little ball of anesthetic gets smaller and smaller until it's gone, and then you have to pull out the tubes/catheters.  John undoes the tape, dressings, etc. and starts freaking at how long the tubes are.  He keeps pulling and pulling and they keep coming and coming. He's practically breaking into a sweat over it, so worried that he's hurting me, and I can feel nothing at all.  Nothing.  I keep telling him it's okay, I don't feel anything, stop worrying, all to no avail.  He's such a sweetie.  I think the thing that freaked him out just a little less than that was that I insisted on voting Tuesday.  So as soon as they discharged me, we drove straight to Bethany, our polling place.  It was touch and go;  I could barely walk, shaking like a leaf, but dang it, I HAD TO VOTE!!!  And so I did.  :)


If I have rambled, well, I guess I always ramble, but at least this time I can blame drugs.  Hopefully, a little more of the pain will abate over the next couple of days and getting out of bed won't seem such a herculean effort.  


Y'all take care.


~k

And so it begins...

I struggled for a long, long time about whether I should blog this or not, but after taking a vote of the voices in my head, the ayes have it with 51%.  So here we go.


Anyone who knows me knows that one of my biggest flaws is my weight (no pun intended) and my inability to sustain any kind of weight loss.  Oh, I can lose it.  But I immediately find it again, along with another 10 or 15 of its closest friends, and this has gone on for decades.  There is so much shame and embarrassment wrapped up in all this that it's difficult to even talk about it without having a complete breakdown.  I will cry the entire time I type this, and I just accept that it's going to happen whether I want to cry or not.  It just is what it is.  


I think what I admire most about John is his strong-minded determination.  No, I did not just completely derail into another subject as I am oh-so-prone to do.  Just stick with me for a moment and I'll explain.  I always thought I was stubborn and strong-willed, but I am, in fact, pathetically, neither of those.  And therein lies the rub:  Losing weight and keeping it off requires a strong mind, I believe, more than any other single thing.  You know, the old "if you believe it, you can achieve it" type of thing.  I've never much believed in myself about anything (except possibly flute and, more recently, vocal talents) and I believe that's why I've yet to be successful at maintaining a reasonable weight.  I am also something of the ostrich variety, i.e. sticking my head in the sand and ignoring it if I cannot find a way to cope with it.  It's why I cannot watch the news at all without going into a tailspin that leads, eventually, to suicidal thoughts.  I am really that crazy.  You should all give John a big hug when next you see him.  :)


ANYWAY!!  Earlier this year, John finally (FINALLY) agreed to consider weight-loss surgery as an option after years of freaking out if I even uttered the word "gastric" in his presence.  Honestly, I think God only made one man who couldn't care less if his wife weighs 732 pounds and still loves her.  I don't know how I landed him, but I guess that was waaaayyy back when I was actually 150 pounds and somewhat attractive.  Apparently love really is blind because that Kathy got lost years and years ago and I'm still trying to find her.  John still sees her when he looks at me and it is beyond humbling.  But I digress (yes, I see you all rolling your eyes and going "as usual" and/or "get to the point!").  Weight-loss surgery (WLS for those of us who like to pretend we are medical professionals and also believe it sounds more justifiable that way) is not something I would ever consider without complete support from my family, and I am fortunate to have just such a family (okay, husband, but the kids are okay with it, too, as long as Spencer knows I will still fill the house with some kind of food he can eat).  So I started seriously looking into WLS a few months ago and I've had to jump through all kinds of hoops (if only!) to get approved by insurance, which I have.  Along the way, I discovered I have severe sleep apnea and stop breathing about 86 times per hour, every night.  I am lucky, though, that I do not seem to have any other health issues (besides being a whale, of course) and every doctor I've seen during this journey to insurance approval (approximately 334 by my count to date) has been amazed that I don't have hypertension, diabetes, other cardiopulmonary problems, etc.  Nope, I'm just fat. But I know those other problems are going to arrive in the not-too-distant future if I don't find a way to get this weight off and so I am going under the knife on Monday for laparoscopic gastric bypass surgery.


I am not proud of this and I didn't really want to tell anyone about it because it's humiliating enough to be morbidly obese without admitting that I cannot take this weight off the old-fashioned way.  I feel like I am cheating, and that bothers me.  A lot. 


I'm nervous.  I'm a little worried.  I'm a little scared.  I'm a lot of things, but I am mostly hoping and praying to find the original Kathy at the end of this road.  In support of that, I am asking for prayers for my family and for me as we all go through this together.  I am praying that God will help me believe in myself enough to be successful on this journey.  I am also praying that I can become one of those strong-minded people who do what they set out to do, no matter how hard it is or how much work it takes.  I want to like myself.  And yes, I know a person should always love themselves beyond their physical being, but I never have, not ever.  I do know that my happiness is not really based on what I look like, that my problems go much, much deeper than my physical appearance.  But I am hoping that if I can accomplish this physical thing, maybe it will help me accomplish my spiritual goals, too.  I want to like myself.  Really, I do.  I want to go out again and enjoy life, party with friends, have a good time...do all those things I did with ease so long ago.  I don't want to be the embarrassment of our family and too ashamed to be in any family pictures.  I want to be "bubbly" again (the appellation everyone else seemed to think fit me eons and eons ago) and I want, most of all, to be deserving of the husband God gave me.  He deserves so much more than what I've let myself become, and maybe, just maybe, so do I.  


So if you've made it all the way to here, congratulations for surviving the workings of my mind.  It's a tricky business and I've yet to figure it out myself.  And thank you.  But more than anything, please pray for me and for my family.  This will probably be the hardest thing I've ever tried to do (besides birthing Spencer, who came with no warning and so, of course, no ability to have any anesthetic AT ALL) and I would really, really appreciate prayers from friends.  Good vibes wouldn't go amiss, either.  :)


~k


And did I mention that Spencer weighed over 9 pounds at birth??  Thank God he was well worth it.

The Room

Okay, so I know this has circulated in email for a long time, but I still find it very worthy of posting again.  If only we could all keep The Room in mind every hour of every day...imagine what our lives would be like.

The Room

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.

 

As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I Have Liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I Have Betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed At."

Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've Yelled at My Brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived.

Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I Have Watched," I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

 

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me.

One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards.

 

But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

 

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room.. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes.

Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room.. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files.. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, and so alive.

 

The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished."

I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

Out on a bike ride in this awesome weather...stopped at el guapo downtown for dinner YUMMMMMMMMM

I suppose if one should have only one meal on Ash Wednesday, eating a pizza at Oliveto`s is the way to go. Cheese, of course.

Just testing to see if i really can post to my blog via my cell....

Mardi Gras

Although Mardi Gras is supposed to be a time of merry-making and indulging oneself, I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. It is the one single reason I abhor anything pertaining to New Orleans.  It would be a great day if only everyone who celebrated it also understood what it means and therefore also observed Lent.  Sadly, probably 97.5% of all the people out celebrating right now have never even heard of Lent.  Fat Tuesday has been so corrupted by places like New Orleans that few people even realize anymore what the day means.  Ah well, it's too depressing to even write about so I will stop there.

Today my patience and tolerance were tested by people at the bank.  Specifically, those in the drive-thru lanes.  I think it only common courtesy to make sure you are ready with your deposits, checks, or whatever, when you get up to the little vacuum thingy.  But apparently this does not occur to people who bank at BOK.  I sat there and watched the girl in front of me spend about 25 minutes taking care of her business.  I've no idea what she was doing, but in order to accomplish it, she had to send the little canister back and forth about 8 times.  Now, I'm thinking that if your transaction is this involved, perhaps the drive-thru isn't the best place for you.  And who waits until they get to the front of the line before endorsing checks and filling out deposit slips!?  I truly do NOT understand this.  I know I hate to wait in long lines, so I try to be as fast as possible when it's my turn so as not to make others wait.  Is this a foreign concept?  Or is it just that the person in front of me was an idiot?  I don't think I can adequately express, in this short space, how badly I wanted to exit my vehicle and assault this girl.  And I am not a violent person!  What makes all this even funnier, in a sick, twisted way, is that the tellers at BOK are always asking me if we want to move our checking accounts and other banking to BOK (we only have our mortgage through BOMC right now).  I always politely tell them we are not interested and go on my way.  Today I waited for them to ask, and I was going to actually say, in a nice way, that their drive-thru being the slowest in town is part of the reason we do not bank there.  Alas, she never asked and it's just as well.  I might have been slightly less than polite this time.  (We used to have our business account at BOK and they were an absolute nightmare to deal with. Never again.)

So I guess that's a good thing to ponder on the eve of Ash Wednesday and during the Lenten season this year.  Instead of giving up chocolate or sweets or fast food, I will attempt to give up impatience and anger with other people (even if they need smacking, or worse).  I will also attempt to give up other bad habits and try to be the person God made me to be.  Maybe someday I will even be able to convince myself that non-thin people deserve to be loved as much as thin people...Nah, that's probably asking too much.  I'll stick with the patience and tolerance concepts, which are goals I have some chance of reaching.  Baby steps, Kathy, baby steps...

~k

Saints Drinking Game

I am about to wet my pants after reading this.  And I'm also thinking I will have alcohol poisoning before the second quarter if I do this...

The New Orleans Saints Superbowl Drinking Game

1. Every time they mention hurricane Katrina, drink 1

2. If they show pictures of the City of New Orleans right after Katrina, drink 1

3. Every time they say how much the Saints mean to the City of New Orleans, drink 1

4. Every time the words "tragedy", "flood", or "devastation" are used, drink 1

5. Every time they talk about how good Reggie Bush was in college, drink 3

6. If they show Kim Kardashian in the stands, drink 5

7. Every time they show a picture of Reggie Bush with a bat or say "bringing the wood" drink for 5 seconds.

8. Every time Reggie Bush gets negative yardage trying to run around in the backfield a bunch and outrun the defense, drink 1 and turn to the person next to you and say "I told you Vince Young should havewon the Heisman that year"

9. Every time Reggie Bush gets up and flexes his arms in that pose he likes to do, drink 1

10. If they mention Tim Tebow for any reason, funnel a beer

11. Every time they say that "it's destiny for the Saints to win" drink 1

12. If they show footage of Katrina survivors at the Superdome, take a shot of cheap liquor

13. If they call Saints fans the most passionate fans in football, drink 1

14. If they say that the Saints, Saints fans, or the City of New Orleans "deserve" a Superbowl victory, drink 1

15. Every time they say how good of a story the Saints are, drink 1

16. If Jeremy Shockey pretends to be hurt after dropping a pass, drink 2

17. If they mention the Saints beating the Falcons in 2006 in the first game after Katrina in the Superdome, drink 5

18. Every time they compare hurricane Katrina to the Haiti earthquake, funnel a beer and yell "bull*!"

19. Every time they mention Drew Brees as the Mardi Gras king, drink 1.

20. Every time they show Archie Manning, drink 1, and mention how bad he sucked. If they show old footage of him on the Saints, drink 5.  If they mention how tough of a decision it was for him as for whom to cheer for, drink 10.

21. Every time they show a saints fan yelling "Who dat!" Or a sign/shirt saying the same, drink 1.

22. If they show Chris Paul at the game, drink 1 and mention to someone how much better he is than Marvin Williams.

23. If they show former Mayor Ray Nagin, drink 5 and then punch someone in the face.



Other Rules not involving the Saints:

1. Every time they show Eli Manning in the press box, drink 1

2. Every time Pierre Garcon is mentioned with Haiti, drink 1

3. If Brett Favre is mentioned for any reason, drink 1

So I have to share something that just happened on the Colts forum.  Naturally, in the two weeks before the Super Bowl, fans of the opposing team (this time, the Saints) will come onto our board and basically talk smack about how they are so much better, the Colts are going down, et cetera ad nauseum.  So anyway, one of these trolls posted this today...

YOU SHOULD ALL BE ROOTING FOR THE SAINTS

Here's why:

1. Saints have not yet won a Superbowl but the Colts have. Hence, the Saints will both want it more and will mean more to them.

2. Everyone else is rooting for the Saints. There's a myth that the Saints are the underdogs and everyone loves an underdog. But even if they knew the Colts were the underdogs, everyone would still want the Saints to win. Even if a person knew nothing about either team and had to root for a team based on uniforms, they'll pick the Saints unless they like the thing that horses wear better than religious symbols. Maybe it's just my opinion but that horse shoe seems like one of the most banal symbols in the entire league.

3. It's inevitable that the Saints will win so why root for a team that stands no chance? I went through the reasons for this in another thread. After spending two weeks thinking you have a good chance to win the game and then shown otherwise, you'll be depressed. There's a far better chance that Peyton will have to be carted off the field than leaving with the in hand. Sorry. It's more humane for me to tell you this because it will lessen the shock. Great season, btw, maybe next year.

For those reasons (and more) you should root for the Saints instead of the Colts. Who dat!

I never respond to trolls (for obvious reasons), but this one made me laugh so hard I couldn't resist.  Here is my response:

BWAHAHAHAHAHA...HAHAHAHA...HAHAHAHAH

Whew, took a while to stop laughing. Oh wait...BWAHAHAHAHAHA...*sniff* Okay, I think I'm done now.

So yo, something you might want to know...I don't know a single person who likes the Saints, and I don't live anywhere near Indiana. In fact, everyone pretty much almost feels pity for people so lacking in intelligence that they continue to live below sea level when they have been warned hundreds of times that there will be a hurricane. Not to mention the absolutely corrupt state and local government you have elected to serve you...who spent the money they were supposed to be using to shore up the levee, etc. And that doesn't even include all the devout people like myself who know that NO is just a blasphemy against ANYTHING religious or Christian. What other place has taken a religious holiday and turned it into a time for having sex out in the streets with strangers? None I can think of. Saints?? God knows better.

So go ahead and continue believing all of America loves you and isn't thinking you are a town full of, well, I'll just stop here. But wait, one more thing...

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAH BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Peace

I must also say here that these Saints fans have told us that it's destiny, that the Saints have pulled them all together when the rest of America let them down in their time of need.  Several of the posters on our board actually donated money for the relief efforts from Katrina, even a couple went down there to personally volunteer and help rebuild.  These generous people also had to point out to the Saints fans that in the midst of the disaster, their team's owner was trying to bail out of New Orleans and was looking for a new place to relocate.  It's funny how they now think that the team was their savior, and all those thousands of Americans who donated money and personally volunteered their time to help them are forgotten.  The sense of entitlement here blows my mind.  But I guess it shouldn't, since this country elected Obama, the king of all entitlement-minded socialists. 

~k

let the mental breakdown begin...

So here we are, 5 days before Super Bowl XLIV (that's 44 for the Roman-numeral challenged) and I am in the beginning stages of mental breakdown.  In fact, my stomach started churning from simply typing that sentence.  Yes, I really am that weird and I can admit that I have a problem.  But admitting it doesn't make it any better and it certainly doesn't do anything to calm me.  The strange thing is that I am not a sports kind of person and I am possibly the least athletic human being on the planet (and even that might be an understatement).  But I absolutely LOVE to watch sports, namely college and professional football, college basketball, the Chicago Cubs, and our high-school team, the Union Redskins.  

But my favorite team is the Colts and I watch each game as if I have $100,000 riding on it.  I live and die with every single down, and it has gotten so bad that I cannot even watch live anymore.  I get so insane and irrational that I become even more difficult to live with than I usually am, and that's really saying something.  At this point, John watches the games for me and records them, then lets me know if I can handle seeing them.  This has been a fantastic year, but it has probably shaved 10 years off my life because nearly every single game was won by the Colts in come-back fashion, which is why the name Cardiac Colts is so very apropos.  (And yes, even when John has told me that I should watch, that we win, I still yell and scream at the TV, have a minor heart attack every time anyone touches Peyton, and just generally act like a bedlamite until the clock reads 00:00.  Aren't you glad you don't live here???)  This makes for very exciting viewing if you are a normal person, I am sure, but it has caused me to have something akin to DTs along with arrhythmias.  It's been a great season.

So anyway, Sweet Baby and the Colts have made it to the SB and I am beyond excited, but also a nervous wreck at the same time.  Three years ago, when the Colts played in Super Bowl XLI (that's 41, for those of you counting at home), we were invited to a couple of watch parties with friends.  I had to decline because there is no way on earth I am letting anyone besides John see the basket case I become during a Colts game, especially when I know it will be multiplied at least 100 times because it's the big one.  So unless I can be heavily sedated or the house catches fire, I'm not going anywhere.  I think my best plan is to consume a box of wine and then curl up into fetal position and wait for the end.  Of the game, that is.

Maybe John and the kids should check into a hotel for the weekend.  I have a feeling I will be extremely difficult to live with until late Sunday night (and then I'll go back to my normal "moderately" difficult to live with).  *sigh*

~kdc

When God closes a door....

One of my favorite sayings is "When God closes a door, he always opens a window".  And it seems that I never realize what the window was until much later.  After all of our financial struggles and just the day-to-day problems involved with running a business, we seem to have finally reached the light at the end of the tunnel.  We're not out, yet, but I think the worst is behind us.  That being said, this month proved to be another challenge for us, as a client did not pay an invoice on time and we found ourselves wondering how we would make the mortgage payment by its due date.  Well, it just so happened that I was sitting at my desk and surfing the new listings when 3 boxed dolls popped up, all from the same seller.  These dolls were truly NRFB (never removed from box) and in mint, untouched condition.  As you may well imagine, this is something of a rarity.  He had them all on buy-it-now for $175 each, so I snapped them up immediately and paid with credit (my rule being to only buy what I can pay off as soon as the statement comes).  So the dolls arrived and they were something that a collector usually only dreams of; pristine in every way.  I nearly fainted as I opened each box.  

I haven't sold a lot over the past month or two because ebay has been so very slow.  But it usually picks up again after the holidays and I didn't worry overmuch.  I went ahead and took the pictures and listed these dolls, putting the price on them that they would normally command, even though I knew I might end up lowering them after a bit.  Within 6 days, they all sold and my profit on the three was over $800.  It was only after I had paid the mortgage that I realized this was a window.  When I bought the dolls, we did not yet know that the client would be delaying payment.  When I listed them, I did know this and I also listed many other things with the dolls (things I had postponed listing for a while because ebay was so slow).  But as I drove home from the bank after making the payment (not late, thank you very much) I began contemplating the days that led up to me writing that check. I realized that, once again, God had opened a window for us, we just didn't recognize it until much later.  

I wish I could say I make these finds all the time; the truth is much more mundane.  Some weeks are really great and some weeks are not.  But this is not the first time I've been at the right place at the right time on ebay, and I am thankful to have the knowledge to be able to make this business work.  God has opened many of these "windows" for us through my ebay business over the last 10 years, and I am grateful for all of them.  

It's kind of funny because when I see a really good deal pop up in the listings, I have this truly visceral "gut" reaction that tells me to buy.  Maybe that "gut" feeling is just God unlatching the window and helping me open it.

Oklahoma Blizzard 2010 (pics)

What a gorgeous scene outside!  It finally started snowing, so I had to go outside and snap some quick pics.  I never moved from the front step and I was freezing, which might have had something to do with the fact that I was in my nightgown and socks.  But I am thinking I might brave it again later, if I ever get dressed today.  But since I work at home, it's really hard to get motivated to do that most days.  However, I love taking pictures enough to make me put on some clothes and get back out there.  

God, I love real winter (and I say "real" because if you know anything about Oklahoma, you know our idea of cold is anything below 65...ridiculous).  John and I have always said we wanted to move up north when the kids are gone, but since he got that motorcycle, he has changed his mind.  This could lead to either; (a) a divorce; or (b) a terrible "accident" happening to his bike.  But that's another entire blog entry...

~kdc

"The Messiah" Hallelujah Chorus...at Walmart

John often claims to know everything, and I might have to give him credit at least this one time. Okay, so from my previous blog post you will remember that I decided our family could live without supplies if we are iced in, etc. etc. Then this afternoon, John wanted to go out for an early dinner, so we headed out to Roadhouse. Since Kelsey couldn't find the doggie diapers on her last wallyworld run (**cough** I think this had something to do with the fact that she didn't actually look for them **cough**), we decided we would brave the elements and try again after dinner (imagine having a non-indoor-trained dog who is elderly and urinates when she sleeps and you will quickly see why this particular "supply" was absolutely necessary in the 0-degree temperatures). John then drives us out to the brand-new Walmart, which I've only seen twice and never remember is even there. I am telling you, we were 2 of perhaps 40 people, total, in that store. And as we shopped, the silence was wonderful. No babies screaming, toddlers being beaten to within an inch of their lives, kids running in front of the cart so that the urge to mow them down almost overcomes a normally-rational, sane person. It was heaven, and I believe that I heard the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's "The Messiah" as we went down every single empty aisle. Honestly, I am not sure you can top, while staying in Oklahoma, the joy of leisurely wandering through a completely empty Super Walmart.

I guess I'll stop this post now because our incredibly demanding cat, Woody, has jumped on my lap and is now attempting to separate me from the keyboard. And I am NOT kidding. He has turned sideways and has his legs pushing against my stomach while his back pushes against the desktop/keyboard, and it's taking me forever to type this one stupid closing line!!! I am evidently petting the cat RIGHT NOW!

~kdc

Oklahoma Blizzard redux (2010)

So around Christmas 2009 we had an actual blizzard here in Oklahoma. Yes, an actual, real, live blizzard. It was the greatest thing ever! And now we've just heard that another storm like that one is on the way, due to arrive here tomorrow afternoon and evening. So it follows that everyone around here has run mad. I tried to go to Walmart yesterday, but only circled the lot one time before deciding there was nothing in there worth the trouble and I left. My ballpark guess was that there were approximately 42,783 people shopping there at the time, and that's about 42,700 people too many for me (Kelsey tells me that she was there around the same time and that my number is a gross exaggeration, but I will let her persist in her delusions). All I could think was, doesn't anyone work anymore!? For the love of God, a person should be able to shop at Walmart between the hours of 8 and 5 without having to fight their way through the crowds. But today it finally dawned on me...everyone is laying in for the siege and stocking up on supplies. Needless to say, we are going to be without said supplies. We have bread, bologna, peanut butter and jelly, and various frozen (completely unhealthy) foods, so I figure we will be fine. And no, I am not trying to win any "mother of the year" awards. Which is a really, really good thing because I doubt I would even make the top 1000. It's just not my thing.

ANYWAY! The entire town is acting as if the sky is falling (ha! I guess it is in a way) and this would be one of those times when I think the northern states have to be laughing their asses off, seeing how we react to snow and ice. We will probably fare a little better this time because of what happened about a month ago...people will hopefully be a little better prepared. But one thing that won't change? People in Oklahoma still have no clue how to drive on ice and/or snow. They apparently believe that reducing speed is not called for, nor is avoiding breaking suddenly. And even better, those 70s and 80s Camaros and Firebirds will still be on the road. And I mean literally on the road. They won't be moving and their owners still won't understand that THESE CARS WERE NEVER MADE FOR DRIVING ON SNOW OR ICE!!! One would think said owners would either find a ride or call in sick after getting stuck every single time any cold precipitation touches the streets. Ah, but where would the fun be in that? We would have one less group of people to laugh at and so they should probably just carry on.

Of course, this is all really easy for me to say because I work from home and I have two teenagers and a husband who venture out into the cold and wet for whatever we need. Ah, it is good to be Queen.




~kdc

Naked Goose

Okay, so perhaps posting to my blog while intoxicated in not the best idea I've ever had, but call me a maverick.

Today, my Cowboys played in the Cotton Bowl and...well, perhaps "played" is too strong a word. What they did was more like flag football. Or something. But whatever one wishes to term it, it was not pretty. I then had to deal with obnoxious OU fans making fun of me. I could go off on another tangent here about not understanding why some people get their jollies from making other people cry, but I'll save that for another time. So I decided to follow in the footsteps of Homer Simpson, who once said that alcohol was "the cause of, and the solution to, all of life's problems". I first turned to my old stand-by, the favorite, cranberry, grapefruit juice and vodka. But then, in a moment of inspiration, I reached for the Naked juice (yes, this is a real thing, I am NOT making it up) and I mixed that with my vodka. I am happy to say that it was a raging success (and not just because I was already a couple of sheets to the wind); it was marvelous!!

Maybe someday I will be famous for this drink I am dubbing the "Naked Goose". (Note: I used some cheapo vodka for the first one, but Grey Goose will be involved from here on out).

Maybe someday I'll be famous. Or not. But whatever, this drink is the bomb!!!