I have no clue where the past month has gone! I know that it rained over the entire spring break. I know that I am hopelessly behind in school. I know that my mare foaled a little early, which was nice. And I know that eventually something has to give....
I tried to start a blog several years ago. When the blogger craze first started. I read so many and thought to myself, she's not even funny! Surely, I could do it. And do it better! HAHA
Blogging takes dedication. And time. I think I'm going to have to put myself on a Facebook hiatus if I'm ever going to do all the things I need to do! I even have a ton of wonderful post ideas....started as drafts that I never took the time to sit and finish! Here I am at work, sneaking in a blog, and a test, and a scholarship application. Even a phone call to a local family I am working on an article about....
Yet, here it is soccer season. AGAIN! Which means traveling, competitive soccer for my daughter. As if I didn't have enough things to do already. ugh. I believe we are signing up two of our other children for baseball. Clearly, I'm a sadist. Did I mention I sell Scentsy?
The worst part is that I have all the right things I need to be organized...A 4 month dry erase wall calendar, 2 very nice Pier 1 book shelves, baskets...(ok maybe I don't have everything). Except I have a job so I have no free time, and somehow this semester I just never did get organized. I go rushing in and out and never seem to have enough time for things. That has to change. I'm not sure how I'm going to do it....but I'll invite you on my journey. Which starts at 5 pm tonight when I get home!
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Tattoo It On Your Soul
Tattoos are so common these days. It seems that everyone has one, from the soccer mom, to the cheerleader, the body builder, even businessmen. I've seen them on grandmas, teachers, policemen, even youth pastors. During the summer I am stunned by how young the kids look, and yet they have tattoos that must have cost hundreds of dollars! I often wonder how old they are, and how much their artwork costs...and sometimes whether or not they gave any thought to how it will look later. (read: after children)
I have tattoos. I have several. My first was a very small rose on my ankle. I figured it would never stretch, and I could explain it to my children. It is almost 20 years old. When I was about to turn 30, I got my second tattoo. I looked at it for a long time. For several months, I would go back to the tattoo parlor with a friend and I was always drawn to one flower in particular. It was my 'just because I'm turning 30, doesn't mean I have to settle down' tattoo. Several years after that I had a very messy divorce and got a butterfly....it symbolizes my freedom from oppression and abuse. After being remarried for several years, my husband and I had each other's names tattooed under our wedding rings. It's cute, hidden, and permanent.
My oldest daughter recently turned 18. She came home within 3 days of her birthday with a tattoo. Actually, her dad and I paid for it. She was given the option of a tv or a tattoo. She chose the tattoo. I tried to talk her out of it. I told her she couldn't watch the tattoo when she goes off to college this fall....still she insisted. So it was a gift from us. I'm not quite sure that it was the best move I've ever made, but it sure does make ME the cool mom!
Being in the tattoo studio - they're not called parlors, anymore - made my husband and I decide that it was time for us to get one, too. My husband has been kicking around the idea of getting a Navy tattoo, so he worked with the artist, and came up with a design. It is his birthday present this year. His appointment is in a few weeks, and the waiting is killing him.
I searched for a design that I liked enough to wear permanently. I wanted something meaningful, colorful, deep, intense, spiritual....and small. I didn't want stars or hearts or flowers, not chinese symbols I don't know actually represent the things I think. I wanted a nod to something bigger than me...and I found it.
Somewhere in my childhood, I heard that I had Cherokee ancestry. My mother swears I'm delusional, and she may be right; but I believe I heard it somewhere. So that is where my search started and ended.
I found this symbol for hummingbirds. It's simple and beautiful, but the meaning is what drew me to it and sealed the deal.
THIS. This is what I wanted to say. My devotion to my husband, a mated pair, permanence, eternity, soul mates. Fierce fighter and defender. Deceptively small, and stronger than you think. THIS is what I had to send out to the world. This is the brand I had to ink into my skin. THIS.
I cried when the artist laid the outline on my arm. I freaked him out a little, I think. I wasn't expecting to cry, but this tattoo is deeply meaningful for me. It represents my courage. My ferocious need to NOT let you defeat me anymore. A forever reminder to myself that I am not weak. And a symbol to the world of all the same things.
I have tattoos. I have several. My first was a very small rose on my ankle. I figured it would never stretch, and I could explain it to my children. It is almost 20 years old. When I was about to turn 30, I got my second tattoo. I looked at it for a long time. For several months, I would go back to the tattoo parlor with a friend and I was always drawn to one flower in particular. It was my 'just because I'm turning 30, doesn't mean I have to settle down' tattoo. Several years after that I had a very messy divorce and got a butterfly....it symbolizes my freedom from oppression and abuse. After being remarried for several years, my husband and I had each other's names tattooed under our wedding rings. It's cute, hidden, and permanent.
My oldest daughter recently turned 18. She came home within 3 days of her birthday with a tattoo. Actually, her dad and I paid for it. She was given the option of a tv or a tattoo. She chose the tattoo. I tried to talk her out of it. I told her she couldn't watch the tattoo when she goes off to college this fall....still she insisted. So it was a gift from us. I'm not quite sure that it was the best move I've ever made, but it sure does make ME the cool mom!
Being in the tattoo studio - they're not called parlors, anymore - made my husband and I decide that it was time for us to get one, too. My husband has been kicking around the idea of getting a Navy tattoo, so he worked with the artist, and came up with a design. It is his birthday present this year. His appointment is in a few weeks, and the waiting is killing him.
I searched for a design that I liked enough to wear permanently. I wanted something meaningful, colorful, deep, intense, spiritual....and small. I didn't want stars or hearts or flowers, not chinese symbols I don't know actually represent the things I think. I wanted a nod to something bigger than me...and I found it.
Somewhere in my childhood, I heard that I had Cherokee ancestry. My mother swears I'm delusional, and she may be right; but I believe I heard it somewhere. So that is where my search started and ended.
I found this symbol for hummingbirds. It's simple and beautiful, but the meaning is what drew me to it and sealed the deal.
The Hummingbird. Paired or sometimes water birds or quail, symbolized in mated pairs as symbols of devotion, life cycles, permanence and eternity. Often modified in many simple forms. Hummingbirds are known to be very ferocious fighters and defenders of their territory. Many times stronger than their small size would suggest.
THIS. This is what I wanted to say. My devotion to my husband, a mated pair, permanence, eternity, soul mates. Fierce fighter and defender. Deceptively small, and stronger than you think. THIS is what I had to send out to the world. This is the brand I had to ink into my skin. THIS.
I cried when the artist laid the outline on my arm. I freaked him out a little, I think. I wasn't expecting to cry, but this tattoo is deeply meaningful for me. It represents my courage. My ferocious need to NOT let you defeat me anymore. A forever reminder to myself that I am not weak. And a symbol to the world of all the same things.
This is what I ended up with. A slightly modified version. But one that symbolizes myself, my husband, our union and eternity. My strength, and a representation of us as ferocious fighters who will defend our territory....regardless of our size. It is as much a literal symbol as a figurative one. I love it. I will wear it proudly, I will show it off, but I will still hide it from my mom behind my Wildcat watch. You know the story, but to others who think I just have a silly design...it's my secret reminder to myself to be strong and
beautiful. And FIERCE.
You can read more about Native American symbolism here. And for a great tattoo in Manhattan, Kansas visit Syndicate Tattoo. You can like them on Facebook here.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Three Weeks Is A Damn Long Time...
Especially to be sick in bed. I woke up on February 8th, and was a little sick. I felt queasy and just a bit unsteady. I went to class. I went to work. I had a location shoot that night and worked till 10:30 pm.
But Thursday was a different story. Thursday, I opened my eyes and would have sworn I was drunk. Pass out, praying for death, drunk. I couldn't stand on my own two feet. The whole world was spinning out of control. I barely made it from the bed to the toilet, and I prayed there. Hugging the ice cold porcelain. Realizing that we needed more Lysol, and begging my husband for water.
Hubs was snarky, and late for class. He kept telling me it was stupid to throw up and simultaneously beg for water. I begged louder, and he gave in. I don't remember making it back to bed, but I do remember telling him that he had to take me to the hospital, because I was 'NOT OK'.
He took me to Lafene, the student health clinic for KState students. A short trip down the hallway in a wheelchair had me begging for a trashcan. Which the nurse promptly sat in my lap. They helped me onto the exam table and one showed up with an ice cold washcloth for my head while the other gave me a Zofran lozenge. It was fruity and good.
Dr. Moeller came in, and after a short exam said that I had an inner ear infection. Labrynthitis, he said. It should go away on it's own, and I would have extreme vertigo and nausea for several days. He wrote a note that excused us both because I wasn't safe to be on my own for those first few days. He gave me a medication called Anti Vert for the vertigo. I slept. A lot. That's what the Anti Vert does. (it does a few other things, but that's a whole different post)
I tried to get to work on Friday afternoon for a studio shoot. I got up, got in the shower, and ended up sitting on the floor, crying for my husband to help me get back in to bed. I never made it to my shoot. I missed it completely, and was too sick to even send an email to apologize.
But by Monday, I wasn't any better. Sitting perfectly still I was fine, but any type of movement was horrific. I couldn't walk, I could only do a geriatric type shuffle. A second visit TOLAFENE resulted in another week of bed rest. No work, more missed classes, more doctor bills for an uninsured college student, and new medications. This time I was given a Scopolamine patch to wear behind my ear. It helped with the vertigo tremendously! I felt almost human again! Well enough to start catching up on my homework. That's when I realized I couldn't see. Couldn't read my laptop screen, or the cell phone in my hand. The words of the short story I was to read were a gray blob in my lap.
I told my husband.
'I can't see.' I said to him. I'm sure it wasn't my calm voice.
'What?' He responded.
'I can't see this! I CAN'T READ! I CAN'T SEE! Oh My God! What's wrong?!' Again, I was crying. See? Just like that, I went from concerned to having a meltdown.
Apparently, one of the side effects of Scopolamine is pupil dilation. I could see fine far away, but nothing close was clear at all.
The following Monday, I tried to get in to see the doctor again. I couldn't manage to see her until later in the week. I started to make arrangements to return to class, even though I was having difficulty reading, and the longer I was up and moving, the harder I had to choke back the urge to throw up. I finally got in to the doctor in the later part of the week, she referred me to a local ENT.
He talked to me for a few minutes. Checked my ears, nose, and throat. Manipulated my head to see if he could get my pupils to respond. He changed my diagnosis to Vestibular Neuritis, and said the primary difference is that Labrynthitis presents with hearing loss. He prescribed more new meds: antibiotics, steroids, and valium instead of the Scopolamine. A follow up appointment in one week. More doctor bills.
I've been back to class and work for a week now. I am MUCH better. I have been for my followup exam, and the ENT is pleased with my progress. He says that I will have some lingering effects for several weeks, but that all of the symptoms should eventually fade. Which is great news, cause three weeks is a damn long time!!
But Thursday was a different story. Thursday, I opened my eyes and would have sworn I was drunk. Pass out, praying for death, drunk. I couldn't stand on my own two feet. The whole world was spinning out of control. I barely made it from the bed to the toilet, and I prayed there. Hugging the ice cold porcelain. Realizing that we needed more Lysol, and begging my husband for water.
Hubs was snarky, and late for class. He kept telling me it was stupid to throw up and simultaneously beg for water. I begged louder, and he gave in. I don't remember making it back to bed, but I do remember telling him that he had to take me to the hospital, because I was 'NOT OK'.
He took me to Lafene, the student health clinic for KState students. A short trip down the hallway in a wheelchair had me begging for a trashcan. Which the nurse promptly sat in my lap. They helped me onto the exam table and one showed up with an ice cold washcloth for my head while the other gave me a Zofran lozenge. It was fruity and good.
Dr. Moeller came in, and after a short exam said that I had an inner ear infection. Labrynthitis, he said. It should go away on it's own, and I would have extreme vertigo and nausea for several days. He wrote a note that excused us both because I wasn't safe to be on my own for those first few days. He gave me a medication called Anti Vert for the vertigo. I slept. A lot. That's what the Anti Vert does. (it does a few other things, but that's a whole different post)
I tried to get to work on Friday afternoon for a studio shoot. I got up, got in the shower, and ended up sitting on the floor, crying for my husband to help me get back in to bed. I never made it to my shoot. I missed it completely, and was too sick to even send an email to apologize.
But by Monday, I wasn't any better. Sitting perfectly still I was fine, but any type of movement was horrific. I couldn't walk, I could only do a geriatric type shuffle. A second visit TOLAFENE resulted in another week of bed rest. No work, more missed classes, more doctor bills for an uninsured college student, and new medications. This time I was given a Scopolamine patch to wear behind my ear. It helped with the vertigo tremendously! I felt almost human again! Well enough to start catching up on my homework. That's when I realized I couldn't see. Couldn't read my laptop screen, or the cell phone in my hand. The words of the short story I was to read were a gray blob in my lap.
I told my husband.
'I can't see.' I said to him. I'm sure it wasn't my calm voice.
'What?' He responded.
'I can't see this! I CAN'T READ! I CAN'T SEE! Oh My God! What's wrong?!' Again, I was crying. See? Just like that, I went from concerned to having a meltdown.
Apparently, one of the side effects of Scopolamine is pupil dilation. I could see fine far away, but nothing close was clear at all.
The following Monday, I tried to get in to see the doctor again. I couldn't manage to see her until later in the week. I started to make arrangements to return to class, even though I was having difficulty reading, and the longer I was up and moving, the harder I had to choke back the urge to throw up. I finally got in to the doctor in the later part of the week, she referred me to a local ENT.
He talked to me for a few minutes. Checked my ears, nose, and throat. Manipulated my head to see if he could get my pupils to respond. He changed my diagnosis to Vestibular Neuritis, and said the primary difference is that Labrynthitis presents with hearing loss. He prescribed more new meds: antibiotics, steroids, and valium instead of the Scopolamine. A follow up appointment in one week. More doctor bills.
I've been back to class and work for a week now. I am MUCH better. I have been for my followup exam, and the ENT is pleased with my progress. He says that I will have some lingering effects for several weeks, but that all of the symptoms should eventually fade. Which is great news, cause three weeks is a damn long time!!
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