I got my hands on an off-brand of Nutella that I can actually eat (can we please stop with the gratuitous soy usage, corporate America?), and I understand everything now. I mean everything. The meaning of life, the universe and everything. Turns out it isn't forty two, it's chocolate and hazelnuts. In spreadable form. The gods have descended and Eden is here. It's like the Ferrero Rocher chocolate candies that I've loved so much for so long but can't have anymore (thanks again to the soy problem) have exploded all over this whole grain toasted pita…slice? (what do you call a single piece of pita bread in all its pockety glory?). Of course, the whole wheat makes it healthy. Right? Right. Also, as a completely pointless side note, I must say that not indulging in the Oxford comma for the phrase, "life, the universe and everything" is killing me, but I am pretty sure that's how it's written and I want to be faithful to the original text. Douglas Adams deserves it. (For those completely lost, I'm referencing "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" series by Douglas Adams. It's a series of books that is completely silly, mind bending, and entirely sensible if you read them all through.)

Chewing this deluxe chocolatey treat is killer, though, thanks to the good ol' oral surgery recovery. The gaping sockets where my 3 wisdom teeth used to be are pretty much alright, in that there's no easily discernible spikes of pain above what I normally experience, but the bottom left jaw pain has got to be the incarnation of everything evil in the world. Due to the positioning of that tooth, the extraction involved cutting open the gum and sewing it shut again afterward, and this stitched area is causing me debilitating pain. Yes, even with the copious amounts of strong pain killers that I am taking, and yes, even with all of the little countermeasures you can take against pain in addition to the pain meds, it's keeping me from sleeping at night, keeping me from eating solid food, giving me migraines, making the hours pass soooo slooooooowlyyyyy, and making my supply of pain killers look suspiciously puny. Once or twice a day I give in and eat something that requires chewing, but ouch.

I finally caved yesterday and started applying ice directly to my jaw, and that was an amazing breakthrough... at first… for a bit. Now it doesn't seem to matter. Sorbet has been a helpful friend as well, kind of numbing things out with cold from the inside, plus it's super delicious! The weather, though, has been affecting the pain levels. Clouds have been coming and going and bringing rain, so on the days that the weather is changing my pain is skyrocketing. On the calm days with no clouds and no changing, I was able to get it mostly under control. Since I cannot control the weather, I will simply do what I can to get this healing up as fast as possible. It's nice to know that this intense pain will end at some point. I'm not used to thinking that way anymore.

So. Birthday coming up in a week, give or take a day. I'm going to be the ripe old age of 27. I think it's fair to say that I'm definitely not where I thought I'd be in life at the moment, and things are going to be different than I had planned, but I think I'm coming to grips with that. I feel like I'm coming to after some time in a thick, numbing sleep, coming back to myself and gulping a huge lungful of air. I've had several "off" months and lots, lots, lots of heavy blows in a row. That's had me staggering, trying to come to terms with reality; adapt, adjust, and survive. I have not lost myself, though, and I feel that irrepressible sense of self rising yet again, despite the surroundings and trappings that modify the expression.

While I was on a walk the other day I caught sight of the desert mountains in the distance, and the dark-light pattern of the clouds and sunlight passing over them in turns gripped my heart as it always does. I felt the familiar yearning for a good, solid hike, followed by a mournful thought that hiking is out of the question when I'm scraping along the road with my walker. The second thought I had was, "Fuck that noise!" I refuse to let myself be bleached barren and bled dry by my disease(s). When I go hiking or backpacking I definitely won't be able to travel as far or as fast, but that doesn't mean that I have to give it up entirely. Yes, there's something to be said for working within the parameters of reality, but there's something more to be said for not giving up on yourself and refusing to become a bland mush of a person when faced with limiting circumstances. So no, I won't be a massage therapist like I had dreamed and planned, because that's just not realistic when you consider my connective tissue disease and my fatigue and pain levels. It's not a matter of want, it's a matter of not physically capable, no matter how hard I push myself and aim for the dramatically inspiring documentary story of a life.

But I still massage my husband, my friends, when I can. When I can. I've adapted. I've altered. But I'm not giving up, not unless I want to, and for my own reasons. Because while I refuse to be conquered and give up on my hobbies and my interests because of circumstances imposed on me against my will, I also refuse to be stuck doing stuff that I no longer really want to do or that I didn't want in the first place, simply to prove that my illness "doesn't define me" or whatever. If I were doing stuff just to prove that my diseases don't have me by the balls, in that moment I'd be proving myself wrong. It's a tricky thought, and a tricky balance, and it's taken me some time to get to this place. At first I needed to simply withdraw and lick the wounds inflicted upon diagnosis, to simply ride the tide of one appointment after another, and I'm okay with that. There will be times when I do so again, and that's fine. So long as the reasons are mine, and I'm doing it for me (and not because I've been bullied into it by people or my diseases), I can do whatever I need to do to get by. For me, for now, it means letting myself emerge once more, a slightly different incarnation with all the spunk and sass of my former self combined with a new balance and perspective tempered by pain and trials.

Hey, did I mention that I got glasses? Yep, I sure did, and they make me look hot. I'll get a picture in here sometime when I can, but for now just take my word for it. Here's how great they are: I actually feel more attractive with them on than without! Yeah, I know. That's never been a thing for me before. In fact, I feel very good about my appearance in general lately. Sure, I'm still overweight and trying to slim down, but my hair has been growing out and is now a chin-length bob in my natural color, my skin is clear, I've got really cute glasses, I finally found a type of bra I can wear comfortably, thus my breasts and cleavage look fantastic (even if they *are* sports bras), and I've got some really cute earrings. I want to get more holes in my ears and I've been playing with the idea of a nose ring, a very thin and delicate hoop (see below), but I just don't think it would look that great.

I've always wanted an eyebrow piercing, however, so maybe I'll go for one of those...

I definitely want what the ponytail lady (that's Fergie, right?) has in the way of earrings-- a whole ear-full, all the way down. (I just hope my babies don't decide to reach for the shiny things, you know? Yikes!)

Of course, I want a tattoo in the worst way but since I struggle with hyperalgesia and always will, I figure that it's probably out of the question. Unless I were to use medical grade anesthesia or something for the procedure. Hmm… (Kidding.) My first tattoo, though, would be this:

To wrap things up, and on a completely unrelated side note, I love my kitties. We took Fancy, the new cat, to the vet today to check out her ears--either mites or an infection, either way real bad when we got her but improving while with us--and she behaved so well both on the car ride and during the appointment itself, even while they made use of the rectal thermometer. I know that I wouldn't be as quiet and docile as she was if a rectal thermometer was involved in my exam! Turns out that there are no mites, at least not right now. It could have started out as mites and then progressed as they left their waste behind, but she has a fungal infection that a course of ear drop medication should clear right up, and I expect that we'll see a bit of a change in her disposition once that's better. She's already sweet now, but there's a difference between being nice and sweet while you're in discomfort or pain and being sweet and nice because you're no longer in discomfort or pain. You know what I mean? Well, right now she's kind of a bitch to Bob and Juneaux (pronounced "juno", by the way), hissing and swiping when they come near or if they (try to) pass by, growling at them if she so much as sees them, but it's just driven Bob and Juneaux closer which is what I was hoping for. They're becoming bros, which didn't happen before because Bob actually had his bro, Cortes! So we'll see what happens as the kitty soap opera continues. Tune in next time for more drama on As the World Tunas/General Pawspital/All My Kitties/As the Fur/Litterbox Turns.

By the by… Which is your favorite kitty soap opera name? Got an original one? Let me know in the comments!

So guess what, folks? The Princess (that's me!) went on vacation. An honest to goodness, get away from it all vacation. I really, really did! It would in no way have been possible without my amazing sister in law, who I did not know cared for me as deeply as she does, but she spoiled me in almost every fashion imaginable.

First off, she had started saving for this weeks and weeks ago, and while I was there I paid my own way on things twice. Twice. In an entire week of going places and seeing things and doing stuff and buying food! Second, she was very careful to keep my physical labor to a minimum, to make sure that I rested as much as possible, and that I was able to access the places we visited. She carried all of my luggage and would only let me carry pillows and the like, even loading and unloading my walker every time we got in or out of the car! I must admit, it was pretty fantastic to have a sherpa, as I jokingly called her throughout our time together.

It was a bit of a whirlwind trip, but it was so incredibly nice to have no responsibilities, to not have to pay for anything, to have fun things to look forward to every day yet not have any kind of a rigid schedule so that our whims and my health could lead the way as to our activities, and to just kind of… well, I have this mental image of, like, my normal life and home and such with this blank white cutout space in my shape throughout the entire week where I would normally be during that time, and the cutout of me was pasted into this whole other life and reality for a week. Does that even make sense? It was so different from how my life usually proceeds that it felt like almost an entirely different reality, which is what vacation is supposed to be, right?

It felt restorative, rejuvenating, and soothing. I was the closest that I've been to my pre-Spoonie self than I've been in years. Granted, it took a lot of assistance to get that, but that doesn't diminish the experience at all. It's a series of memories that I will cherish for a long time to come, I can guarantee that.

Our week went something like this…

Sunday: Colleen (sister in law) arrives and we more or less intend to leave that day, but don't because I'm feeling poorly and it takes me forever to pack, and also what's the rush? We make a list and Colleen packs for me, which is awesome.

Monday: We leave in the morning after stopping by the local muffin store (Yum-azing!), I sleep all the way to Tucson. We go grocery shopping, Colleen cooks supper, take a walk around University, get locked out of house upon return and Colleen ends up breaking in through a window that was unlocked.

Tuesday: Visit an art store for shopping, go clothes shopping for me at a thrift store nearby, have dinner with Colleen's best friends and I have my first margarita. The night is capped with my first hookah smoke and we talk late into the night.

Wednesday: Walk the main drag near the University and visit the tea house we've had our eye on, go to dinner at a fancy place and run low on time, get trapped in the parking garage because of a faulty ticket and barely make the play we've been looking forward to seeing (and pre-purchased tickets for). End the night by returning to the main drag and hanging out at a coffee shop smoking hookah and eating Mediterranean pastries until the shop closes late.

Thursday: Drive to town an hour or so away to spend a few days with my friend Rose. She was interning with the Victim Rights department during the trial that put my molester in prison, and so she was sort of a victim advocate for me and we've kept in touch and maintained a friendship since. Get settled, I get a haircut and Rose takes me on a mini tour of the Army Fort and beautiful surrounding scenery. I fall asleep in the car and nap upon our return, wake to find company over for dinner, and we all hang out until dispersing for bed some time after company leaves.

Friday: Take a 2 mile walk with Rose (yeah, that's right! I'm fuckin' proud of myself!!!), nap briefly before we all pile in and drive to Bisbee to check out the stores and sights. Colleen buys her first "real" piece of art and is now an official adult, and I find some amazing souvenirs and a smaller cast iron skillet of a size we don't already own that I take home for Corey. (He likes it a lot, and used it for the first time tonight to make a sort of omelette.) After coming home, Rose's "Gathering Of The Awesome" party starts a while later, consisting of awesome women that she knows and invited to an evening of yummy light food, good drinks, good conversation and company, and a fun art activity that was also insightful and connecting.

Saturday: Leave Rose's and head back to Colleen's house, go grocery shopping for afternoon picnic planned. I nap for a few hours, then she, I, and one of her best friends that we went to dinner with go up Mount Lemmon and have a picnic, sort of start a fire to keep ourselves warm, and watch the sunset on the drive back down the mountain.

Sunday: We both sleep in, and eventually she packs up the car and takes me back to Yuma but leaves shortly after because of work the next day.

I was feeling pretty good throughout the week, at least as far as "good" for me goes, but as the week went on I could feel myself wearing out. By Friday night I was running a mildly low grade fever and felt pretty gross. Saturday night I declined a proposed meet up with a friend of Colleen's in favor of staying in bed because I felt shitty, and Monday, the day after I got back, I pretty much did nothing but sleep in hour-to-several-hour increments for about 24 hours. I'm still recovering, but part of it is that I don't have that medication that helps so much with the stiffness and pain in my joints anymore, so I just feel more arthritic and whatever than usual anyway. Also, period should be coming soon, and I'm always exhausted the week before my period and sleep more than usual, so I'm not surprised there, either.

I cheated a lot with allergens on vacation, so I'm returning to being a "good girl"… but oh man, I had some of the best food in a long time. Have you ever had fresh sopapillas? Then you are missing out on the culinary equivalent of salvation for your soul, I swear to you. They are so. good. I've also been on a huge muffin craving kick since we hit that muffin place on the way out of town. I had forgotten what I was missing, but now I am constantly reminded of my suffering due to lack. Alas, alack, woe is me, woe betide, and all that sorrowful jazz…

It was a good trip. It was a very good trip. I don't expect to have an experience like that again anytime soon, but I will surely treasure it. I feel different somehow from having  had the experience, but I'll think on that more later. I am so indebted to my ladies, Rose and Colleen. My gratitude knows no bounds. I know that they really went above and beyond for me… and yet for them, I'm sure it seems somewhat of a simple matter. It's funny how perspective works. From my perspective, it was a chance to live life again, to have fun and forget the frustrations and complexities of trying to juggle doctor's appointments and bills and finding rides and medication snafus and all that… to simply be a young woman again and enjoy things… to just have fun, pure and simple! From their perspective, it was doing things that maybe they don't get to do every day but have been wanting to, but it wasn't particularly mind-altering I don't think. It was pretty much business as normal, but on vacation time.

Regardless of who felt what, there is one thing that we should all be feeling right now, and that's pride. Pride in me, of course. Why? Because it's only been 3 days since I got home, and I'm fully unpacked! Yeah, baby! (This is fairly unheard of, just for context.) Now that I'm home, back to responsibilities, I feel a little better equipped to handle them now that I'm not so frazzled and frayed because I had a pleasant break. On the other hand, it makes me not want to deal with real life at all anymore and just continually live the vacation life on someone else's dime… Heh. If only, right?

Fun fact: I've been toying with introducing gluten back into my diet, so this past week I've been eating regular oats (which do not in themselves contain gluten, but oats are known to be highly contaminated by gluten containing grains in the production process), and have had no ill effects. Yesterday my friend E brought me some goodies from Sprouts, since she was in the big city this week and they have such stores there. I had asked for a certain brand of GF bread but forgot that they also make regular breads as well, so she came back with the flax seed bread that I had asked for… but the whole wheat variety. I figured it was as good a time as any to test out the gluten theory, so I had several slices of toast for supper last night, and some for breakfast. I am pleased to say that I am suffering no ill effects whatsoever, and no gastrointestinal distress or pain of any kind.

I think my gluten free days may be over.

I'm excited pretty much beyond reason. 'Cause oh my word… bread. And the possibilities are endless… I can eat baklava again! Desserts… I can have real cake or pie for my birthday!!!!! I can make a turkey sandwich. Did I mention desserts? Oh, and crackers. Crackers! Italian food. Lasagna. I can eat out at restaurants again! Olive Garden, perhaps? *gasp* I can eat eggplant parmesan again!

You guys… you guys… Pancakes.

Right. I'm going to stop now. I'm getting myself way too worked up. But man… I'm so excited.

Well, I got the call last week (I think it was?) about the blood tests that the new rheum had run. As he said, he is more than willing to look into the autoimmune side of things, though he seems to feel that my troubles are caused solely by fibromyalgia. I do not accept this. It's pretty plain that I do not accept this, and several of my other doctors agree with me. 

Good grief, I wish there were a way to get them all under one roof so they could put their heads together and share all of the opinions and knowledge about my body and its workings or lack thereof… I get so tired trying to coordinate all the appointments and rides and tests and information sharing. It's hard enough for me to just make it through the day without trying to overdose on something, anything to make the pain go away just a little bit. How am I supposed to expend all this energy trying to figure out how to get my doctors to figure out how to get me better when I'm losing energy by the week, the day, the hour? I don't have much left in me for this, and it's a bitter irony that the increasingly sick person must put forth increasingly greater amounts of effort to receive care the sicker they get. I need a caretaker, for reals. Or at least a secretary. I could wish that C took more of an interest in my health affairs… doing research, knowing my meds and what they're for and how often to take them… or even just their names? It's all left up to me and it doesn't seem fair because he's relatively healthy and I'm not and I just really don't have it in me anymore, guys. I mean, this post alone… it's taken me days to scrape together the mental energy to even type this up. I feel very alone with my sickness very often, but I don't feel that it's fair to complain or even ask more of C, because I am already such a burden. He is such a support for me, so taking care of my own medical stuff is the least I can do, right? Plus there is the whole "hanging on to the last vestiges of my independence as a human being and/or adult" thing. Did you know that, not only do I not drive unless I absolutely have to (it takes a ton of energy, it's usually painful, and I could have a twitching attack/go faint at any time and I don't feel that it's very safe for me to be driving), but it is difficult for me to get the walker in and out of my car by myself? Didn't used to be that hard. Now that I need it more than ever for getting around, it is more difficult for me to access it by myself. This seems to be an increasingly familiar theme in my life, and I absolutely hate it.

Aaaaaanyway, this wasn't supposed to be a rant about my feels regarding my sickness, it was supposed to expound upon my theory that I'm pursuing. Right, so, here's the theory.

The blood tests showed no lupus activity, which is good, but that also means that another potential answer has been crossed off the list. MS and lupus, both of which seemed good fits as explanations for my symptoms, are out. So what is making me so sick, aggravating the fibromyalgia symptoms? There's got to be something. I just keep worsening, and every time I do I'm sure there's no further rock bottom to hit… but I'm always wrong. My mother is understandably quite concerned. While I was back home visiting for Christmas ("back home", as though I've ever actually lived there LOL. But home is where the heart is, and my heart is with my family, so I guess it works.), she told me that she was afraid this was the last time she was going to see me. Not that I'm going to drop dead within the year, mind you, but my physical health has deteriorated so far that traveling is very difficult for me, even just road trips to the big city to see my doctors. It takes a heavy toll, and traveling across the country with all the planes and the sitting and the walking through terminals and… it's all just really hard. Really, really hard. So unless something changes, I probably won't be able to go out there to visit again, and she doesn't have the funds to come out here. Sucks, but that's reality.

She was very taken aback by my physical appearance as well. Several times she made the comment that I looked like a cancer patient. I was pale, weak, dark circles all around my eyes (not just underneath), my face is puffy… I just don't look healthy, despite what people and doctors say. I don't. I may "look good" in that I'm not gaunt faced and jaundiced, but I don't look healthy. I just don't look like I'm dying. On the phone with Mom last week, she told me that yes, I do look sick, and she's right. She is also worried that I have cancer. I know, I know… it sounds like we've been spending too much time with the WebMD symptom checker, right? Well, honestly… (and this is hard for me to admit) cancer is something I've been worried about too. I mean, I saw David wither away, and that was devastating. The Chemo Princess passed away just last week, but she didn't look like he did… at least, not in any of the pictures that I saw. I've had MRIs and CAT scans within the past 6 months, and none of those showed any tumors or anything, but as my symptoms keep evolving it has been concerning me more and more. Burning bones? Really? I mean, what the heck is responsible for that? Because it's not just a minor annoyance but a genuinely distressing, excruciating experience that genuinely concerns me. Stuff like that shouldn't be happening to your body. I may have fibro, but not everything that I experience can or should be chalked up to that. I believe the body will give you warning signs that you can interpret if you are paying attention, and I really believe that my body is throwing up neon signs, asking to be evaluated and considered beyond the scope of "just fibromyalgia".

So I started doing a little research, and I came across this little gem of a website explaining Cushing syndrome. I was curious about how my symptoms may be related to my adrenal insufficiency, since we've got the thyroid probs under control, and when I read about adrenal tumors and Cushing syndrome (not Cushing's Disease itself, mind you; that's something different.) I felt some puzzle pieces potentially fall into place. You see, at first it seemed silly for me to even consider Cushing's, because I have adrenal insufficiency and don't make enough cortisol (which is why I supplement, every day, for the rest of my life) and Cushing's is when there is an excess of cortisol or other adrenal hormones in the system. Doing this research, though, brought me to realize that my endocrinologist has gotten my thyroid levels good and under control but she is doing nothing to monitor my adrenal insufficiency… which could be fatal, given the right circumstances. That's not acceptable, and I mean to remedy the situation. I'm trying to get an earlier appointment than the one I have in 1.5 months so I can discuss this with her. I'm dreading the thought of possibly having to find yet another doctor in the big city, but I will if this doctor doesn't take me seriously and start keeping tabs on my adrenal levels. I'm taking the same amount of cortisol supplement that I have for years, but is that the level my body needs to be functioning optimally? I don't know. I haven't been tested. The only relevant test was where the insufficiency was confirmed.

So what makes me think that this could be part of my problem? A few of the symptoms fit what I'm struggling with: 

• Purple marks (1/2 inch or more wide), called striae, on the skin of the abdomen, thighs, and breasts
• Acne or skin infections
• Upper body obesity (above the waist) and thin arms and legs
• Round, red, full face (moon face)
• Thin skin with easy bruising
• Backache, which occurs with routine activities
• Bone pain or tenderness
• Mental changes, such as depression, anxiety, or changes in behavior
• Fatigue
• Headache
• Increased thirst and urination

Possible complications include:

• High blood pressure
• Kidney stones
• Serious infections

I've marked in red all of the symptoms that apply to me. Some are new, such as the striae, the upper body weight gain, the fullness/puffiness of my face, the increasing bone pain and tenderness, and my blood pressure that has been steadily rising over the past year.

One cause of Cushing syndrome can be a tumor on one of the adrenal glands. "Cushing syndrome is caused by constant, high levels of the steroid hormone cortisol. A tumor on one of the adrenal glands causes about 15% of all cases of Cushing syndrome. Adrenal tumors release cortisol. In adults, adrenal tumors are less likely to be the cause of high cortisol levels. Pituitary tumors (Cushing's disease) are more often seen in adults. Adrenal tumors are found in women more often than in men."

Cushing's disease is when the pituitary gland makes too much of the hormone ACTH. ACTH then signals the adrenal glands to produce cortisol. A tumor of the pituitary gland may cause this condition, tumor of the adrenal gland, or tumors elsewhere in the body that produce cortisol or ACTH (such as the pancreas, lung, and thyroid). I know I don't have Cushing's disease, because I don't make enough cortisol and the disease is too much. It's like the difference between hyperthyroidism and hypothyroidism. I'm hypo on the thyroid and the cortisol. If, however, there's a foreign something somewhere in my body that's giving me excess amounts (because remember, I'm also taking cortisol supplements on the daily), then that could possibly explain some of what I'm going through, if not all.

So, this illness… brought to you by the letter C. C for cancer, C for Cushing's, C for CFS. I intend to pursue this matter, along with a few other options such as myalgic encephalitis (CFS) or an infection of the Vagus nerve. Lyme disease might not even be too much of a stretch. We'll see. One way or another, we'll see…

My hands are stiff and hurting a little today, and my shoulders are absolutely killing me, so I'll keep this brief.

I talked to my madre this morning for quite some time. It was great! I miss her. She also helped me to sort through something that has really been affecting me since it came up (more on that later), and told me humorous anecdotes about the pigs on her boyfriend's pig farm.There's one pig that she named Sugar, so when she gets pregnant and has babies we're going to call them SugarBabies. My suggestion was Sugar Cubes, which led to the thought of naming each one after a different type of sugar, like Granulated, Powdered, Dark Brown, Light Brown, Cane, etc. We had a good laugh over that one.

I saw my rheumatologist today. She was not happy to see my walker, but I've brought it in before and it seems she didn't notice it then. She said that she feels it's "a crutch" (it's a walker, silly! kidding...), but I told her that I see it as a valuable tool and explained why and how I use it, and she was satisfied. After going over my developing symptoms, she told me that we need to be sure of what it is we're treating. The pain in my hands and feet caused her to re-order some tests after poking, prodding, and rotating me for a bit, because fibro doesn't follow this path of development she says. So I may be dealing with an entirely different beast, which wouldn't surprise me. A lot of these things have overlapping symptoms that mimic one another. I see her again in a month, so I'll know more then. Also, I got a referral to a pain specialist! She found the only one here in town that takes my insurance and is accepting patients, so she's getting me in. I could kiss her. She also changed my pain killers from hydrocodone to oxycodone, which is Percocet. I was on that briefly after the big accident, and I remember that it metabolized well with me, so I'm hopeful. I made it a point to inform her that I have not been abusing my prescription drugs, since we had that "talk" last time. Anyway, it was a good visit, and a quick, efficient one. I am satisfied.

I cooked lunch today! During my appointment, I was struck with a strong craving for rice and fish, which I indulged. I cooked the salmon with minced onions, some seasonings, and a bit of agave-sweetened apple cider vinegar. It was pretty phenomenal. What's more, it's staying down quite well. I'm even still hungry after waiting for a bit, so I think I'll follow it up with an apple. I am just being very careful not to eat too much, because I really don't want to relapse again. Every time I do, it's more miserable. But I'm making good progress in getting back to regular eating habits, or even eating habits that were better than the ones I'd fallen into. I'd like to cook more often, and I intend to make the effort. My intentions are good; we'll see about the follow through.

It's been a good couple of days. Yes, I've been sick as a dog, but I've read some good books, cuddled with my husband, talked to J and my mom, and watched some good movies. Oh, and done good stuff with work. I'm totally wiped out, but I feel good about how things are going.

So my friend J is studying to be a nutritionist. I know she'll be fantastic at anything she decides to pursue (she's just one of those people), so I know she'll make a great nutritionist. We've talked before, briefly, of her analyzing my diet and coming up with some helpful tips for me, and just the other day she asked me to be a guinea pig for her and keep a food journal for a few days. I agreed in good humor. After all, my friends all agree that I eat pretty healthy, so what do I have to hide?

I'll be the first to admit that I do have an odd diet, and not particularly varied. There are a few factors to this. First, I am constrained by my food allergies, and there's not much in the regular stores for me outside of fresh produce. Secondly, money is an issue, as I can't afford to be buying all that specialty stuff, and we really can't afford anything outside of basic staples at this point in time. Thirdly, there's the energy factor: I have all these grand ideas for dishes to make using the ingredients on hand (I used to love creating meals for the S family and myself, and I miss that), but I don't have the verve to put those ideas into action. Do you realize how much energy cooking takes? The standing for that length of time alone is prohibitive. Fourth and foremostly, there's the nausea factor. Many times I know it's time to eat, or I'm hungry only briefly, but the nausea kicks in and the idea of food is just not appetizing at all... much less cooking, immersing myself in food preparation. Yuck. Oh yeah, I also forgot about my finnicky gut. I can't digest a lot of things very well, so I stick to simple, easily digestible foods like fruits, grains, and some veggies. Protein makes semi-frequent, small appearances. I've learned the hard way what happens if I eat too much protein in a day... which means that I can usually have a solid protein only once a day, twice max. I don't even bother with nuts anymore, unless it's cashew butter (which I can't buy for love or money in my town anymore anyway).

So with all that, it's a wonder I eat at all, I'd say. I do try to make sure that I eat well, as well as I can. But lately... I've still been wrestling with depression. It's not bad, just enough to be annoying, you know? Kinda like a toothache. It's not harming you, but it colors the edges of your day and kinda makes everything a little more annoying. And with that depression comes apathy, which means I really don't care about a balanced diet right now. In addition, I'm more prone to eating junk food. I'm craving it much more often, and, what's more important, indulging it more often.

Keeping track of my eating habits opened my eyes to just how much junky food I've been eating lately, and I found myself swamped with guilt. I couldn't believe it, but I really felt really bad about... well... my failure. Yes. I had failed. I wasn't eating well, and now there was proof. The thing about falling short of my ideals for myself is that I then, in my head, become a bad person. The Should Monster comes out to play and I beat myself up. It's terrible. It's awful. It's regular as clockwork.

So I gave in and junked it up yesterday. I mean, if I'm already screwing up, why not go for the gold, right? I even had pizza. (For reference, I'm allergic to at least one thing in every single component of pizza.) I've been cheating quite a bit lately... which, of course, makes me feel even worse about myself.

But no! I will not allow myself to abuse me. So I've seen that my eating habits could be better. Now I take this new day and try to do better. That's it. It's that simple. I'm not a horrible person because I had a soda the other day. I'm not somehow bad and undesirable because I ate a cookie. How can I even think that these choices constitute a moral failing somehow? I'm nuts, man. There's still a bunch of stuff to hammer out in my head, but I'm making progress... a little bit at a time.

Still working with depression. Where I'm at in the menstrual cycle isn't helping. I suspect that part of it is due to hormones. Regardless, today was an off day, mentally. Sort of.

I am damn tired. Worn down. Beat up. This effing pain just won't quit, won't go away, and it's driving me insane. I mean, I can take it, and have been taking it, but you can only take so much, you know? I always tell myself that tomorrow will be the day I snap, because tomorrow never comes, so I'll always make it through today. Heh.

Today, though, I was a bit rebellious. Maybe I just gave into the "eff it" mentality, and maybe I just wanted to stop trying so hard to be good when it seems to help so little, if at all. Yeah, I ate something that I am really not supposed to. I think I am allergic to every single ingredient. Regardless, it was yummy. If I hadn't eaten that small portion of the forbidden goodness, I was legitimately going to go out and buy a pizza and a donut today. Cheese and veggies, and Bavarian creme. It was all planned out. But I didn't. Because of the other (free) thing. And while I didn't have any gut reactions to it (yet), I did have a small amount of throat swelling and itchiness/rawness. It felt like I had a mild throat infection. Scary. So now that it's more than just my guts involved, I'll probably be better about being strict... which means not cheating once or twice a year. (Really? Can I get much better about avoiding allergens? C and I don't kiss after he's eaten allergic stuff, and we even use separate sponges for crying out loud!!)

While I was out running errands, I also picked up a pint of ice cream for myself (safe ice cream!) and a bunch of movies from the library. I've spent the rest of the day watching movies and eating the entire thing of ice cream. Guess who doesn't care? This girl!

C will be home soon. That means he can finish watching The Fantastic 4 with me. I love that movie, simply because Jessica Alba is so smoking hot. I could watch her all day. C and I are supposed to take a walk when he gets home, though... which will be good for me, pain or no. I need to work off that ice cream. Hah. (Oh yeah... and those 13 boxes of cookies.)

Quick note of happiness: When C and I went back to PetSmart to exchange harnesses for Juneaux, the cashier asked me about my walking stick, since he's only ever seen me with my walker before. He asked what disease I had (one of the first to assume I didn't have some sort of acute injury!), and when I gave him a brief explanation of fibromyalgia (and mentioned the connective tissue disease too, but no explanation) he looked me in the eyes and said, "So you're just really tough, then." We all laughed, but that comment lit a warm glow inside me. I really appreciated the acknowledgment of how hard it is to live in constant pain from someone who doesn't see anything but a passing glimpse, and yet still sees how hard it is. That was cool. And you know what the funny part is? I'll wager that he has no idea how much that passing comment meant to me, or that I'll remember it for a long time to come.

You know what I've realized? My diet is pretty pathetic.

I mean, it's not that I eat unhealthfully, per se, but I know that it's pretty unbalanced. How's that, you ask? Well, I pretty much just eat the same things all the time right now, and even though they're "good" things, constant repetition is not exactly your friend when it comes to meeting nutritional requirements.

It started when I cut out gluten and soy from my diet. That helped some, but I was still in a lot of agony a lot of the time... plus I didn't know what to eat. In addition to that, I was at a school where meals were prepared en masse and served up at certain times. I had very little control over my food, but I managed to scrape through... somehow.

Then I was diagnosed with a bunch of food allergies. What the heck do I eat now?!
As I fumbled my way into my new lifestyle, I had friends with experience in the allergy realm helping to guide me.

Then I moved in with the S's, and the education began. I learned to cook-- I mean really cook-- and how to feed a family. I don't think I've ever eaten so well as that year and a half that I was with the S's. It seems to me that having other people around that eat similarly to me, or that can at least help guide me (a.k.a. kick me in the butt to create real food) is a key part of my adherence to actual meal creation. Once it was just me, well... It's hard to cook for one person, especially when you're living with non-allergy people, and there's no room for you to stockpile ingredients or freezers full of pre-cooked foods. That's been the situation so far. I've moved into previously established non-allergy households, and carved myself a little niche, but I've never really had my own space to stockpile what I needed.

Once S moved out, that changed some, but I've become so sick that food doesn't even really hold any appeal for my any longer. I get hungry, sure, but that's the only reason I eat. Cooking is not enjoyable for me. It's a chore.

No, I take that back. I do enjoy cooking, but I'm usually nauseous or just plain sick while doing so, and the energy it takes just doesn't seem worth the outcome.

Also, I went through that phase where my guts were rejecting anything "heavy" or remotely resembling protein, so I've pretty much been on a tweaked version of the BRATY diet for the last three months or so.

I don't even have to take a list to the store with me anymore, a remarkable feat for my foggy self, because I know exactly what I need and in what amounts to make it through an average week. Some weeks I find myself actually hungry, and I eat more, but some weeks I find that I'm sicker than usual and I hardly eat at all. So I may run out, or I may have excess... regardless, the amounts usually don't vary.

I get 5 apples, a bunch of bananas (although there was a few weeks where I was just done with bananas), 4-5 sweet potatoes, 2-3 broccoli crowns, a head of cauliflower for baking, and 3 zucchini or yellow squash. If I need onions, I'll pick up a bag, and that lasts me for weeks, depending on what whims of cooking I succumb to. Sometimes I'll splurge on blackberries if they've got them. I've taken to keeping frozen fish fillets on hand for broiling, and sometimes chicken, but usually not. Honey and peppermint tea are kept replenished at all times, and if I have the money I get cashew butter from a store in the Foothills. Of course I need plain rice cakes to put it on, and a few bags of rice/root chips for easy "I need food NOW" moments, or when I need to take food to class with me. (Chips and an apple are easily portable and not disruptive.) At least one jar of unsweetened applesauce is a necessity, and 3 cans each of sliced peaches and pears in fruit juice. I get a bag of Udi's GF granola when I can, but I also found a new GF cereal that I like, which is handy for the mornings when I'm super nauseous but I have to eat something. Some sort of GF hot cereal, be it rice grits or Mighty Tasty Hot Cereal, and rice milk, original and enriched, if I'm running low on either of those things. Last but not least, one large container of Chobani vanilla yogurt, which I sweeten with agave nectar, and sometimes a medium container of the vanilla chocolate chunk if I'm feeling splurgey.

I already have a stockpile of rice at home, so I never need to buy that. I have a can of coconut milk on hand, should I ever get around to making corn chowder. Sometimes I'll pick up GF pasta to use in soups, but I have a bunch of that in the cupboard already.

That's it. That's what I eat these days. And it hasn't really bothered me until now, because I have this tendency to get into food ruts, I guess you could call it. I latch on to one thing in particular and eat it again and again until I'm tired of it. When I was a teen, it was toast with peanut butter, and baby spinach leaves with Italian dressing. Not at the same time, 'cause that's gross, but those were my go-to's. For a while it was boiled red potatoes with salt. When I was depressed, it would be a large container of Arizona green tea and a box of Ritz crackers.

If you ask the S's what "my food" was, they would all invariably answer "rice cakes with peanut butter and fruit". That was my thing, without fail. I finally got sick of peanut butter, and I couldn't stand the thought of rice cakes with nut butter and fruit for a while, but I'm kind of over that now. I think right now my thing is very well baked sweet potatoes, plain. Super yum. The only problem is that it takes time to bake a sweet potato, so you kinda gotta think ahead... A few months ago, I was obsessed with quesadillas for about three weeks.

But I need balance. I need more "real" foods. I just wish that I didn't have to be the one to make them :) I wish that I could just pay someone to cook for me so I can heal. (Although my guts have healed up beautifully, and I've seen the pictures to prove it!)

Anyway, I found this website/blog called 20somethingallergies, and the lady totally deals with a TON of food allergies, and it's all about eating well and real and right so that your body can heal itself. I'm all for that, but I get easily overwhelmed, and often feel judged and very defensive, even if nobody's saying anything. She straight out said on her site that there's no judging, that everyone is at a different place on separate journeys, and that's fine. I love that outlook. So I signed up for the newsletter, "Baby Steps", because that's what I need. Baby steps. One little change at a time. Maybe starting with cooking a "real" meal at least twice a week... and making big batches to freeze the rest for another time.

Drat. Now I'm hungry... and none of my sweet potatoes are baked up. I guess that means cereal... since I ate my salmon and broccoli earlier, and I have no rice cooked, either. Plus it's Grocery Day (um, night? We go when C gets home from work), so I'm running low on supplies. Maybe I'll be able to drag myself out of bed long enough to make that corn chowder today? That'd be nice. I'm going to try subbing turnips for the potatoes in that soup. Though mashed turnips are NOT the same as mashed potatoes, I think that in soups they swap out pretty well.

So I've discovered that I absolutely despise buckwheat hot cereal.

I hated it the first time I had it the other day, but I thought, "Hey, maybe I did it wrong. I'll give it another shot before I condemn it."

Alas, no. It is intrinsically gross. The only good thing about that bowl of buckwheat cereal I choked down was the butter and maple syrup I put into it. It was kind of like a really disgusting liquid pancake. When I do the butter and syrup thing with rice grits, it tastes like a liquid pancake-- pure heaven! I have to be careful how much butter I put in, though, because apparently I'm secretly either Southern or French and it's really easy for me to just load it in there.

In other news, I carted a bunch of stuff over to the new house, and I cleaned it all up so it's now move-in ready. Next move is packing boxes full of the things that we aren't using and taking those over. I need to stop being so picky about organizing everything before I begin to pack it, because that's just spending extra time. I should organize and sort while I pack, then I'm getting two birds with one stone! And as far as packing materials go, we don't have any newspaper or such... but we do have an abundance of towels, and I just picked up a couple sets of sheets, so I'll just use those. Then, when we unpack everything, I can just store the towels and sheets on the shelves I'm going to put up above the washer and dryer. We have no cupboards or linen closet for that, so I had to get a little creative.

I'm excited to be nesting and settling down in my little house. Apparently C took his brother and some others over to the house last week to show it off, so it would seem that he's excited, too.

More than just the house itself, I'm excited about what it symbolizes for me. To me, it symbolizes the life that C and I are building together, the solid foundation of "us" that we're working from that can weather any storm. Our life together has not been what we thought it would be, but it is better than I could have imagined. I love that man so very much, and I'm so happy and proud to be setting up the house that I will be sharing with him for many days (and years?) to come.

I have requested (and C agreed) that we have a celebratory barbecue once the house is all moved and settled into... Kind of like a housewarming party in reverse. Like, "here, let us give you food and show you how grateful we are for all the support you've given us... and for helping us move." 'Cause the guys are totally going to help us move the furniture, that's just a given.

This is a "journal entry" I wrote today on a bride website I'm part of. I kinda want to blog, but I don't have the energy or the thought wherewithal, so... cupcakes it is.

"Is there such a thing as a bad cupcake?

I really didn't think so, until today.

I mean, it's not like they're bad bad, they're just... not great. Not what I had envisioned.

The cupcakes themselves aren't that much of a surprise. I'm not that great of a baker (I do better with the stovetop than the oven, truly), and allergy-friendly baking is challenging for even accomplished bakers. I'm trying to make cupcakes without gluten, soy, most dairy, eggs, citrus, or potatoes, but I found a mix that looked promising.

After substituting the necessary ingredients and hoping for the best, the smell wafting from the kitchen stirred up my optimism. I was hoping that I would defy the odds and pull moist, finely crumbed morsels of tenderness from the oven, just like the cupcakes of my fantasies. (Because, really, all I've done about cupcakes in the last 7 years is fantasize...)

So the cupcakes themselves aren't bad. They're not finely crumbed, but they're pretty tender... but they began to fall in on themselves while cooling, and they're short. Stubby. No muffin-top here. Most barely clear the top of the liner, and some don't even make it that far. (I'm thinking the whole "1/3 of the muffin liner" thing doesn't apply here...)

Okay. I can deal with that. Piled high with white, fluffy frosting, it'll still look okay, right?

The surprise was the frosting. I opened the tub of "safe" frosting that I'd managed to find, and gave it a vigorous stir, only to find that it's not fluffy and pile-able. It's pretty tasty, no doubt, but it's more of a sheer, sticky spread than anything else. But that was okay. Maybe the Celtic knot cupcake stencils and silver cake spray could still turn these things into a semblance of the glorious cupcakes of my daydreams.

Long story short? No. Not happening. After the silver spray totally ignored the boundaries of the stencil, I thought that maybe cocoa powder would work and look attractive against the now silver frosting. I really should invest in a powdered sugar shaker or sifter of some sort before I try that again... but the cocoa made it extra delicious.

And really, at least they taste good. I'll just tell my photographer to ignore them, I think. It makes me think of what we here at the Tribe say about the wedding day itself: it may turn out crazy, things may go wrong, and it may not be what you envisioned at all. At the end of the day, though, what matters is that you and your partner are married. And at the end of the day, is the purpose of a cupcake not to be delicious?

Note: This was just the test run. Hopefully the real deal-- the chocolate ones-- turn out better! Also, there are no pictures... for a reason. And I tagged this as Tough Times because, though the entry is lighthearted, I'm genuinely very disappointed and distressed about this. My fiance thinks that I ought to storm a bakery, give them ingredients, and demand that they make me something delicious and pretty, or ELSE! I just laughed... because cross-contamination and that's never gonna happen.

Also, please, no baking advice unless you have the same allergies as I do and have done well baking around them. Chia seed for egg, rice milk with a little vinegar (I'm thinking coconut milk next time?) for buttermilk, and thank GOD that I'm allowed a little dairy now or I'd have to figure something out for butter, too."

There is such a scene of domestic tranquility in the living room right now. The lights are off, save for the dim glow of the Christmas tree. K is curled up in a recliner, looking for all the world like a lumpy pile of blankets. R is tipped sideways on the couch but still mostly sitting, and Mom is on her side with her head on the couch's arm. Baby Peanut is sprawled on her back, nestled safely in Mom's arms. All are sleeping soundly, guarded by the two dogs who keep watch from the floor and love seat. So sweet.

Today didn't go exactly according to plan... I had such grandiose ideas of what I would accomplish today, buuuuuut...

I didn't go to sleep until well after two, from crying over D. Mom saw my swollen, tear-streaked face when I emerged to pick up a pair of socks I'd left drying over a chair, and followed me into my temporary room to talk about it. She did say that, if D were not able to make it down to the wedding she would talk seriously to R about funding a short trip for me to go back up there and make sure that I was able to say my goodbyes. I was very, very glad to hear that.

I did sleep rather well last night, considering. I only woke up once or twice. Then I pried myself out of bed (much earlier than I would have liked! lol) to take Mom to work. She showed me around and showed me off. It's a really nice salon that she works at, and she scored me a free haircut for Thursday! I had intended to review my A+P flashcards when I got back home, as well as clean the bathroom today, but... I went back to bed. I was so tired. I did wake up a few times, because my bladder was full or because I heard Peanut crying (or both), but I finally crawled out of bed again at one o'clock. Oops.

K had been dealing with Peanut all day, so I took her off her hands for an hour and fed her, burped her, changed her, played with her, and put her to sleep. Then we bundled ourselves up and headed off to pick Mom up from work. When we came back, I took care of Peanut some more while mentally compiling my meal/shopping list for the week.

Shopping with Mom always takes a long time, and with having to read the ingredients of everything we're considering buying... and taking care of Peanut at the same time... it took us about 4 hours to finish grocery shopping. I was so ready to leave the store! We did have fun, though. I took my walker with me, on Mom's advice. She knew it would be quite the trek. After a while, I sat on the seat of my walker with Peanut in my lap, wrapped my feet around the base of the shopping cart and held on with one hand while Mom pushed the cart from behind the walker. It worked perfectly, though we must have been quite the sight... I did get 5 congratulations on my beautiful baby, though. :D We finished the shopping session with Mom pushing the cart and me pushing my walker with Peanut sleeping in her carrier that was wedged onto the walker's seat.

After consulting with my allergy chart again recently, I've decided to try yogurt and a couple of cheeses. With that in mind, I had greek yogurt with pomegranates as part of my supper tonight, and it was so good. I'm not feeling any ill effects, either. I figure it's cheaper and more delicious than probiotics, if I can actually include it in my diet long-term...

I also registered for a Spanish class tonight, as I was informed today that the massage program scheduled for this spring was cancelled. Too many people backed out and/or flunked the pre-reqs they needed, so the rest of us are out of luck. I'll have to wait until August for that particular program. I figure there's no sense in wasting my time, though. I'm still able to take one of the necessary massage courses this semester, and I want to learn at least basic Spanish, so that I'm not limited in my client base. I really wanted to take ASL as well, but because it took so long for this massage thing to play out all the classes are over-full. Bummer. I could get on the wait-list, but I'd rather not leave it up to chance. I'm going to choose another class that interests me and is applicable to my future, but not something too hard. I'm thinking maybe Intro to Aromatherapy, or possibly Exploring Native American Medicine. I tried to find the yoga class that I saw, but the website is saying that it can't find the class. Boo. There's also Overview of Herbal Remedies, which looks good, but I'd rather get into something that I don't know anything about yet. The problem (problem?) is that I love to learn, and there are so many classes that I'd like to take! Since I'm just looking to burn time between now and the program starting, in a sense, I'd like to do something useful with that burnt time... which is why I enrolled in Spanish. Conversational Spanish, that is. It's more important to me to be able to speak it right now than read and write it. I figure that will kind of come with the spoken aspect.

So, tomorrow... tomorrow Mom and I will do some cleaning, finish decorating the tree, and wrap up presents. We're also having acorn squash for lunch. Yum yum :)

Well, the two sides of the family have met at last. (Parts of them, at least.)

Gramma, Grampa, and I went to C's parent's house for Thanksgiving dinner. (Sort of parents... C's dad, R, and R's girlfriend, D.) D went out and bought me/cooked me all kinds of special food so that I could partake along with everyone else. I was flabbergasted and really honored. I think she likes me! :) Also, she's just a pretty amazing, generous person.

I remember being amazing at how wonderful and generous D's mom S was, back in up in Id, yet there was always something about her that made me a little uncomfortable... like she was expecting something from you somehow... There was a pressure to her generosity that made it so I was never fully at ease with her. D, though, is not like that. She's just generous, and you never feel pressured to be effusive in your thanks or that you'll have to match the gift later, nothing like that. It's kind of refreshing, actually. I want to be like that! (I have a feeling that I'm more of the former than the latter... and I know that I have some passive-aggressive ways about me. Trying to change that.)

Unfortunately, my new meds pretty much destroy me if I take them during the day, so I'm going to try taking them at night from now on. I took them in the morning so I was "off" all day, sad to say. I did thoroughly enjoy my time over there, though. My grandparents hit it off with C's family real well. Gramma hung out over by the kitchen with D and they swapped stories, and Grampa and R commandeered the couches to watch Dallas get slaughtered. (Ah, well, they made a good comeback, so I can't actually say slaughtered...)

During dinner, R kept us practically rolling with funny stories from his job (he is a deputy with the local Sheriff's Department). There was this one story about a couple of emus that they were called out to corral some years back that was hilarious. I can totally see C's facial expressions and gestures in R when he gets animated. (Or is it vice versa?) It's kinda weird, seeing him so happy and animated. I never saw that side of him when C's mom was still in the picture, sad to say. I'm glad to say that I (and everyone else who knows him) can see that I bring out the liveliness in C just like D does for R, and that's a good thing.

Also, roomie S showed up to hang out with D, C's brother, so that was fun. C and I (and S) went back over to his parent's after he got off of work, and D told me that she really liked my grandparents. Even S said that they were cool, which surprised him, because he knows they're very religious.

So, basically?  Project: Introduce The Families was a resounding success! D invited Gramma and Grampa over for New Year's, even though I won't be there, and they were pleased to accept the invitation! *Whew* I'm glad that went so well. I mean, I didn't expect it to be a problem, but you never know when drama might spring up for no good reason.

I've been craving sweets lately, despite having to eliminate sugar to kick this blasted respiratory infection. (It's retreated to a simple upper respiratory infection again, thank goodness!)

So I made a pan of Rice Krispies treats the other day, and I'm the only one that really likes them because they're a little "off". C says that, considering there's no butter and I used GF Rice Krispies, they're really quite good. However, they don't taste like the regular ones.

So I'm stuck with a ton of RK treats, and I'm having to eat them all before they go stale!

Ugh...

I'm tired of Rice Krispies treats.

...guess who's famous today? Just for one day, mind you. :)

I follow this blog called Espresso and Cream, which I thoroughly enjoy (the author lives in Iowa, where I was born!), and I submitted a post on 5 things that make me feel beautiful. Well, she ran it today, and you can check it out if you want. If not, at least check out Madison's blog. She's a food stylist (I think?), so the photos that go with her recipes are amazing. And the food's healthy!

Seriously. Just go.

I guiltily waste literally hours on my Thursdays (and Sundays, if my homework's done) looking at wedding stuff and scheming, planning, and plotting. This past week, I realized that, while I dream about buying a nice dress and new shoes and a cool shawl and gloves and all that... I really don't want to spend upwards of $500 dollars on my wedding outfit. I don't. So I went in search of alternative wedding dresses, romantic goth dresses, simple lace dresses, renaissance dresses, etc. I found... nothing. Nothing that pleased me. So at the end of a few long hours of searching, I went through the ol' brain archives and revisited a dress that I had been absolutely smitten with at the onset of my search. I found it, it's still for sale, and guess what? I couldn't find it anywhere else. You know what that means? Unique. That's right.

I hate the idea of being a cookie-cutter bride. And I hate the idea of having this dress around that i'll never get to use again. This dress is gorgeous, simple, and, what's more... after I messaged the seller, she wrote back this morning that she'd take $300 for it! That's less than the other dress I had my eye on, and it's 1.6% of the original cost. (I'm learning how to do percents in math class. Real world application rocks.)

Also, I had the thought that, if I got some sort of surcoat to cover it and bustled up the bottom somehow, I could use the dress for my role as Baroness at the upcoming Ren Faire. Not only that, but with the right accessories, I can use it again for the black tie fundraiser event coming up in May.

Now... to scrape together $300. I just hope that I can take advantage of this before someone else does.

I just... hate having no money. No income. I know that'll change soon, but I'm anxious. (And, for the record, not a single application that I've put in has garnered a response. Not one. This dumb town seems to be notorious for that. I mean, really? Common courtesy, people! At least tell me that you picked someone else!)

I bought groceries yesterday. I haven't had this much good food around in I can't remember how long. For supper last night, I had sweet potato fries and fresh spring rolls (yellow and orange sweet peppers, onions, avocado, alfalfa sprouts, and a splash of coconut aminos), and I'll probably have spring rolls for lunch again today. Maybe with a couple of spoonfuls of mango sorbet afterward. Mmmmm.... I spent over $100 on groceries, and felt terrible, but then I remembered that the whole point of my parents giving me money to spend on food is so that I actually buy food. Mom has been concerned that I'm not eating healthy, well-balanced meals. Well.. she had reason to be concerned. Being sick had me living off of rice cakes and cashew butter, mostly. But I got some good ingredients, so that has changed for the better.

It's funny how easily I can swing from one extreme to another.

On Saturday, I was ill. I guess I just pushed it too hard, and my body decided to check out on me. (But, as usual, I don't feel like I was doing enough, and especially not enough to have my body break down on me...) I finally dragged myself out of bed around 8:45 p.m. and took care of the dogs I'm sitting. (Poor things.)

Sunday, though, was a different story. I felt energized, purposeful, and driven.. off and on. I had spurts of funky mood throughout the day, but did my best to ignore that. I scrubbed the kitchen floor and walls and major appliances and cabinet fronts, and felt really good about it. It's been something I've been wanting to do, and it's been under my skin, like an itch. (Much like scrubbing out the shower.)

I took before and after pics of the shower, just to emphasize my point that you really can't have a bunch of guys living by themselves for an extended period of time. They just don't notice that things are dirty and need cleaning. These guys, they just didn't notice that the shower was dirty, and they were shocked to realize that it's supposed to be white. Let's face it-- men need women, if for no other reason than to keep things clean.

 

 Anyway, that aside, while I was down and out, I spent pretty much all day Stumbling recipes. I have come to the conclusion that I am a closet foodie. Not a food activist, as so many are (I barely have enough energy to concern myself with the things in front of me, much less getting angry with Monsanto and WalMart or whatever), and not a super-dedicated foodie, but... the beginnings are there. And, really, with the way I must eat, who can blame me?

So I got inspired, and I had the most amazing supper yesterday! I had lettuce wraps containing coriander and nutmeg laced lentils, chipotle tahini sauce, a heap of raw veggies (zucchini, bell peppers, green onions, mushrooms), and avocado. I also had a few pieces of a quinoa flatbread that I whipped up. My, oh my, was it ever delicious! I also ground a little smoked sea salt over the top of each wrap. Thought I was in heaven.

Tonight, I intend to make smoked salmon chowder for the guys. That oughta be good :)

I applied for three jobs today, in addition to the three I applied for last week. The best part is that they're all in totally different fields!

I get overwhelmed and slightly resentful when I think about the Healing Journey and the fundraising. Why? Maybe because it reminds me too much of canvassing, maybe because I only wanna give as much as I wanna give, and I don't mind leading the support group, but I didn't ask to be one of E's "pillars". She made me that, and I don't feel like I really had a say in the matter. I mean, I want to be involved, I just... want it to be on my terms? I guess.

I feel like E still has some boundary work to do, as do I, and I'm not sure that it's always healthy, what we've got going on.

I think mostly it's just that I want to run my own life, and a lot of times I feel like the HJ is running my life.

I think that's my issue, though, and not hers. I did set my foot down a few times, and I'm glad for it.

We'll see.

No one ever got strong without conflict and practice.

Tomorrow, I have a filling/root canal. Joy...


I hate to keep asking for money from R. Can I please just provide for myself already??

In less than two weeks, C has vacation and wants to go house hunting. Am I excited? Ridiculously so!!!

School starts in less than a month. I will prove to myself that I can work, go to school, volunteer, and still maintain a social life and a clean house. That is my goal.

I still can't walk away from God. Things are shifting inside of me, and while I haven't gone back to church, I'm still considering and reconsidering my faith. This article spoke to me on a very deep level, especially since the author has just been through something horrific, something totally against the will of God... and still believes in a merciful God. Her explanation is simple, yet profound.

"Let’s get something straight: the theater shooting was an evil, horrendous act done by a man controlled by evil.  God did not take a gun and pull the trigger in a crowded theater. He didn’t even suggest it. A man did.

In His sovereignty, God made man in His image with the ability to choose good and evil.

Unfortunately, sometimes man chooses evil."

I know, I know that people have expressed the same thing to me over and over again... but sometimes it takes that thousandth time, phrased in just the right way, for it to slide into place, you know?

So... I don't know. I don't know what this means. I know that I believe some different things about the Bible than I did when I first started searching and researching. I know that I'm looking for a very different sort of experience than I was before my inner world exploded. I know that I'm a little more cynical now than I was.

But I also know that, if this god is all that those who know him make him out to be, then it's okay, and it'll be okay, and he'll work with that, and eventually... I'll be okay, too.

Sometimes I wonder if I didn't just make up the whole thing about being abused and molested and groomed and all of that other stuff... if there's really nothing wrong with me but that I'm a mental and emotional hypochondriac?

Sometimes I wonder if it really affected me at all?

I was thinking last night about how people come to be themselves. I think there's three parts to it-- one: the personality that God created, the "who you are"; two: the inherited traits, the training you receive growing up; three: who you make yourself to be.

Who you're created to be.
Who you're raised to be.
Who you determine to be.

I think those three things combine to make you who you are.

Just a thought.