Noisy Oyster

bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy (BSO)

2011-10-18T18:57:00.000-07:00

May 13, 2011 was the start of the very last period I will ever have. I almost wish I knew it then so I could have acknowledged its passing or remembered some details about it. At the time, I was disappointed to see it since Adam and I were four months into trying for a baby.

I conceived the week of May 24, Adam's birthday. It turned out that my growing daughter was made with the very last egg my body would ever produce. I'm thankful I know these dates. They feel important and when I reach the anniversary next year I know I will need to mourn and celebrate in some way.

The more I talk to doctors and learn about this condition I didn't know I had, the more remarkable it is that I am even pregnant. The cysts that were on my ovaries had taken over to the point that there was very little ovarian tissue left, as the surgery report said. My ovaries would have had to be removed at some point, probably in the next five years. Fortunately (?) they grew so quickly as a result of all the pregnancy hormones that doctors were able to detect that something was wrong before they caused me tremendous pain by bursting or twisting. It's good that I'm getting regular pregnancy ultrasounds or there wouldn't have been a reason to look at my ovaries.

I'm slowly researching the surgery and what my life will look like without ovaries after my baby is born in February. I've learned that the operation I had is called a Bilateral Salpingo-Oophorectomy. I can't even pronounce it but it means that both my ovaries and fallopian tubes were removed. Three weeks later, it still makes me cry. I haven't figured out my feelings around this yet. I know I'm mourning in some way but it's still in the back of my mind. Other than the 7" cut that runs up the middle of my belly, I don't yet have any side effects. I know that I can expect a huge shift in hormones after the baby is born. That's normal for any pregnancy, but in addition to suddenly adjusting to that, my body will no longer be able to make estrogen once the placenta is delivered. I won't know how to compare that to a normal recovery since this is my first baby so I can only prepare to feel crazy. I don't know how to expect something in theory without knowing what it's going to be like.

My focus after surgery has been on resting and trying to continue on with life, as if I'm only trying to heal from a physical wound. Only, this wasn't a regular surgery that fixed a problem. It's a surgery that will alter my life in a few months from now. Something was taken from me. I'm trying to deal with what it means to not have ovaries. This is the equivalent of a man being castrated. (It took me several minutes to be able to complete that sentence.) I have only been able to briefly scan medical websites that explain the side effects of missing such a crucial organ. It still causes me to panic and fear the worst. The most upsetting thing I've seen is something about premature death. I've always assumed I would die an old lady and not a decade too soon. I have two more weeks until my follow up appointment with the surgeon who will likely tell me what I want to know, but also fear hearing.

I'm having a harder time than I expected dealing with things. Everything is that much harder to accomplish. I feel like life is pushing me - rushing me to get back up and going before I am able. I'm trying to function, yet everything I have to do feels like a much bigger task than it is. Big things feel impossible to accomplish. Bills are still due, I'm still trying to find work, we're running out of money. Everything seems to depend on something else which is keeping me from moving forward. I can't work on my freelance editing project because I can't think straight and that's causing me guilt and anxiety. I have the motivation to find jobs to apply for, but then can't get past feeling overwhelmed at the energy I need to buck up. How can I find the words for a cover letter and pretend I believe in myself, even though deep down I know I could do the job? It's just too much to try to convince someone else that I can do it. I'm finding cheaper apartments online and dreaming about saving hundreds of dollars a month. Wouldn't it be great to reduce that financial stress and be able to stay home longer with the baby? But oh, everything we'd need to do to move stops me frozen.

I thought I would feel better after writing this, but I don't. I can only look forward to a time when I let out a big sigh of relief and am happy I've made it through.

There had to be an easier way to learn this lesson

2011-10-16T09:57:00.000-07:00

For the last couple of months I have been a ball of stress and worry about the "bad timing" of going to school, trying to find a job, and getting pregnant. They say there's never a perfect time, but two weeks ago I was at the peak of thinking it was the worst timing in the world and maybe we should have waited to start trying to grow our family. Maybe I didn't think it through enough. Maybe I didn't really want to be pregnant?

This has been a crazy financial time with one income that isn't quite enough and a lot of little unexpected expenses. Individually, none would have been a terrible blow but they kept coming. The cat needed teeth pulled, Adam had an emergency room visit, and promising job leads went nowhere.

I've been upset about feeling like I haven't been fully enjoying my pregnancy. This is supposed to be a magical time when things fall into place, right? We should be giddy about shopping for baby clothes, starting to plan a nursery, reading books about having a baby, looking into child care, and planning maternity leave. I shouldn't be pretending I'm not pregnant so I can just deal with the stresses of life. That's not the way I imagined it. The first 20 weeks of my pregnancy have passed without me coming close to documenting it the way I had hoped. No belly pictures, no daily diary entries. I've tried to put it on hold, only there's no way to pause. This is happening.

At my 20 week ultrasound I decided to find out the gender of my baby in hopes of feeling more connected. Up until the technician asked me if I wanted to know, I didn't know what my answer would be. The day I found out we're having a girl things really did shift. She started to be our baby and not the baby. The previous flutters of movement became stronger too. I stopped wondering if I was having gas and I knew that was a baby kick. I started to recognize the difference between her head pushing against my uterus versus a leg or arm twitch. My parents were able to come with me to the appointment and for 24 hours I was not just pregnant, I was a mama-to-be getting to know my daughter. I started to say "daughter" out loud and refer to her as "she." Maybe things weren't so bad.

The next day I was called by the midwife letting me know that large cysts were found on my ovaries. I don't remember the conversation because scary words like specialist and surgery and abnormal and cancer were being used. The following week I was suddenly meeting with a perinatologist, an oncologist, and a surgeon about the possibility of having surgery to remove the cysts because they were "so big they were crowding the baby." I didn't even know they were there until the ultrasound! I was told that the cysts had to be removed because at their current size and rate of growth, they would soon threaten the baby's development and cause an early labor - too early to be safe. Basically, it was impossible to leave them there without risking my life and the baby's life. I didn't fully understand how everything was squished together in my abdomen, but the cysts were almost as big as the baby. How could that be when I was barely starting to show? That sounded like such an exaggeration to me, but the doctor's urgency made me believe him right away.

My right ovary was up near my ribcage on my side and my left ovary was tucked down into my pelvis kind of under my uterus. It would be impossible for me to deliver without a c-section. The doctor said something about one ovary being the size of a cantaloupe. They're supposed to be about the size of a walnut! If a woman needs surgery during pregnancy, the safest time is between 20-24 weeks, and I fell right in that range. Suddenly on that Thursday, I was being told that I was scheduled for surgery on Monday 10/10/11 and I would meet with a pre-op nurse the next day. WHAT?!

At 21 weeks pregnant, I woke up from surgery to learn that the baby was fine but that I had lost my ovaries. Both. Totally gone. It turns out my ovaries weren't just covered with a few large cysts, rather there were so many cysts that my ovaries were destroyed, as the doctor said. There was no way to remove the cysts and leave me with ovaries and the only way to leave my ovaries was to leave the cysts alone, and that was not an option. They could have burst or twisted causing me terrible pain and then I'd have to have an emergency surgery to remove them anyway, so the best thing to do was remove them then. I knew that was a possibility going into the surgery and had to sign the form giving them permission. Even though we talked about that, I'm not yet OK with the fact that my family's size was decided for me. I have some mourning and adjusting to do, and obviously will have to deal with menopause at 39 years old. The placenta is providing me and the baby with the hormones we need right now, but as soon as I'm no longer pregnant I will be dealing with a whole new set of specialists, drugs, and coping techniques.

This is about how big my right ovary was. The left one was only a little smaller.

I'm so thankful I'm already pregnant and the baby is doing well, but freaked out after being left with no way to try for another if there are any more complications with this one. I'm scared that I'll have to deliver via c-section only because I now know what to expect from abdominal surgery. I'm not ready to do it again in just 4 months.

As you can imagine, I'm now beyond thankful for the timing of my pregnancy. I'm thankful that I was even able to conceive with ovaries as wrecked as they were. I think they must have struggled to squeezed out an egg just as they were dying so I would be left with a precious daughter I already love. I'm no longer turned off that my pregnancy was treated as a "medical condition" based on my age. I'm thankful for modern medicine that allowed doctors to see that there was trouble brewing. All things point to me carrying to my mid-February due date and being able to deliver without a c-section. Oh, and the cysts were benign without any precancerous cells! I have to keep reminding myself of that little bit of good news in all of this.

My view on so much has dramatically changed. Everything feels like such a huge issue and no big deal at the same time. We may still have to move, we'll be paying off medical bills for years, I still don't have a job, and I don't know how life will change. I know we'll get through it. I'll have a GIANT scar as a badge and a reminder of my strength. I have incredible friends and family, and Adam and I have started our own little family.

I'm no longer just a mother-to-be. Somewhere in these past two weeks I have become a mama and I have proved to myself that I can get through anything.

Stressed ravings of a crabby student

2011-03-05T18:25:00.000-08:00

I a big ball of crabby right now. Fortunately (!) I got up early this morning and went rollerblading on the Burke Gilman trail out toward Golden Gardens. It was wonderful! I haven't been able to do that in weeks. It's either been too windy or too wet. I can see the trail from our balcony and I know the level of shine the asphalt gets that's no longer acceptable for skating. Way too slippery!

I was out for about an hour and I even left my sunglasses at home on purpose. I hear that you get the best dose of vitamin D if the sun gets in your eyes without being blocked by shades. I mean, not IN your eyes in a blinding way. I turned my face up as often as I could. I felt like a flower.

Then - grrrrr - I had to sit in a dark classroom from 1 to 5 and stare at a computer monitor for the most boring, dry, useless class EVER. I liked it last week when we interacted but today was sooooooo dull. We went through a power point presentation in 4 hours that I could have read in one. I was falling asleep but am past my caffeine cut off time and now I have a headache from the florescent lights. WAH! Now I'm just complaining. At least I got a certificate to add to my collection. I just have my eye on the goal - a job with a big paycheck. Anything at this point is a big paycheck. I figured my hourly pay on unemployment is lower than I used to bring home 10 years ago as a barista with tips. If I can't find a job when my benefits run out I know I can fall back on that. I'll be a barista with mad word skills.

What I hate more than anything when I'm driving is stop and go stop and go, especially with a clutch. I had to pick up something in Fremont and it took everything I had not to lay on the horn. I only stopped myself because I knew the red lights wouldn't change for me. hahaha. I just wanted to roar out a big AAAAARGH! That's why I've been a bicycle commuter for the past 3 years. I'd rather get dumped on and be cold than sit in stop and go traffic.

So now I'm home and I'm going to sit and relax aaaaaand do more homework. Oh and housework? My parents are coming over for lunch tomorrow and I haven't vacuumed since I started school (in January. ohmygod). I have to do dishes because every single piece of silverware is dirty and we only have 1 clean pan and a couple of dishes left. You should see the kitchen - it's horrible. I'm just going to absentmindedly apologize for my mess with an excuse of being busy or something. I don't have time to clean.

Now where did I put that bottle of wine...?

Crochet blanket inspiration

2010-12-27T01:59:00.000-08:00

I want to crochet a colorful rainbow blanket and came across a few ideas. Here are some that have inspired me.

A stripe blanket.

An updated granny square blanket.

I love the bright colors and different sized squares on this one.

Look at all these crazy colors! I love it!

I also kind of like this honeycomb style.

I need to find a crochet book that explains how to make lacy granny squares. This blog post was what got me thinking I'd like to try making a blanket in the first place.

I draw with a marker

2010-12-26T23:58:00.000-08:00

Someone recently asked me why I only draw with a pen (a Sharpie usually). I'd never answered that before and no reason has ever formed into anything concrete. I just do. Do you ever hear your words coming from somewhere in your heart before you can answer with your brain? That happened to me. I learned why I do it and it's a durn tootin' good reason!

If I draw with a pencil it gives me the chance to erase what I don't like and I'll wear that eraser down to nothing before I ever draw anything. It will never be "good enough." When I draw with a Sharpie I have to work with my mistakes. It seems like backwards reasoning, but I feel less tentative about drawing with a pen. I know there will be something I don't like, or a stray line, but I don't have the pressure of needing to fix it or make it JUST RIGHT. It was nice to realize that.

Sometimes what ends up on the paper is nothing like what I thought I was going to draw. Going with it changes my creative thinking into a way I wasn't expecting. I think it helps my mind be less rigid and sometimes I like what comes out! I'll see something on the paper I would not have otherwise.

This is where I get all philosophical and roll my eyes at myself, but I have to point out this comparison. I think it helps me deal with life. I have to take what I have and turn it into something that works for me and make the best of it. There have been plenty of times I've been upset about the way something turns out only to realize later that something even better came out of it. That ALWAYS seems to happen. (Recently I was upset about not getting a job I was SURE I'd get. Because that didn't happen, I now have the opportunity to go to school and get BETTER jobs. Suckers!)

Drawing with a Sharpie is my reminder to myself that there is no such thing as perfect. And really, there's no need to be upset when something doesn't go my way.

Office/craft room inspiration

2010-12-20T10:00:00.000-08:00

I'm getting fed up with how my side of the office looks. It's messy and unorganized and not at all how I want it to look. I'm collecting inspirational photos and websites and to more easily keep them in one place I'm going to keep them here. First up, is this one.

Paper Owl Mobile

2010-12-20T09:47:00.000-08:00

Look what I found! This is an inspiring website full of things I'd like to make. First off, I think I need an owl mobile! The other day I bought some poster board with gold on one side and silver on the other just because I loved it. I think I've found its purpose.

Made by Joel: Paper Owl Mobile

I think I'm being followed

2010-12-09T11:05:00.000-08:00

I'm not saying I'm any kind of trendsetter because it can't possibly be true that people are looking at me for inspiration. How much of a coincidence is it that I find myself liking certain things then suddenly I see it everywhere? Am I just subconsciously picking up on trends in the early days and liking it because it's different and something I haven't yet seen? Then it explodes and EVERYONE likes it and I assume people are copying me? That's more likely. Whatever it is, it keeps happening! (And I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks this.) I think I should start paying attention and flood my wardrobe with things I love before they get too popular.

Part of me is excited when I finally see something I like in the stores but then I quickly become annoyed that I look like everyone else. I don't want to be trendy. It seems to me that people keep taking my unique finds and making it the thing.

I have a thing for owls, especially the 1970s style figurines. I scour thrift stores but never quite find what I'm looking for. At a garage sale a couple years ago I bought a figurine of 3 owls. Not quite from the 70s but it's a stylized soapstone carving from the Eskimo village of Nuvuk Canada. After I bought a little Mexican black pottery owl I started seeing owls everywhere. Home decor, clothing, journals... I still like owls but it annoys me that everyone else does too. I think it's a fading trend.

Recently I found myself oddly attracted to pink. I like wearing that "feminine" color because I often feel like an outdoorsy tomboy and I like the juxtaposition. I think it's surprising to see me wear it. Well, look what I saw today. Apparently Pantone calls it honeysuckle and it matches the pink nail polish I'm wearing in my efforts to be unique.

You know what else I like? Sparkles! and Glitter! and Iridescent Colors! especially in nail polish. That's a little harder to find... Or so I thought. I guess I know what I'll be seeing all over the place.

I'm just going to say right here that I bet we'll be seeing a lot of gold lamé soon because I've been having an inexplicable urge to wear that tacky stuff.

Hey you!

2010-10-18T10:52:00.000-07:00

Does it feel weird to anyone else to address envelopes to your parents using their first names? Using "mom and dad Haley" doesn't feel quite right either. I ended up addressing the envelope to M & J Haley. I'm on a bit of a kick calling people by the letter of their first name right now, so that's what felt most right.

This would be solved if I could send them an email instead, but they are not Internetting people. That's ok. Sometimes I just want to sit down and write a letter anyhow.

Is Kathy Hilton your friend?

2010-10-15T12:47:00.000-07:00

I saw an interview once with Kathy Hilton. She was asked if she would tell another woman if she had that dreaded foundation line at her jaw. I don't remember anything else about the interview or who was interviewing her, but I remember Kathy's answer. She acted indecisive and said, "Well...I suppose if she was a friend I would."

I think of that nearly every time I'm putting make up on! I rub in my foundation and hope I don't have The Line because if I did, Kathy Hilton wouldn't tell me. I'm writing this down in hopes that some other thoughts will take over now.

Thinking happy thoughts

2010-10-11T12:40:00.000-07:00

Riding my bicycle makes me happy. I ride so that I know how the trees smell after a rain, so that I know when the leaves erupt in fall color, so that I see the first tiny blooms of spring, so that I know the moon’s cycle, so that I can hear the whispers of Mother Nature.

What are you proud of?

2010-10-08T10:12:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when I'm feeling low and am not happy about the way I handle things, I like to think about what I've accomplished.

I am most proud of faking it until I believed it myself. Not THAT kind of faking it! ;) I am an introvert and once upon a time so shy that I would burst out crying if asked a question in elementary school. The thought of speaking out loud in FRONT of people horrified me. It’s taken 38 years, but gradually I have learned to break out of my shell. It still feels fake sometimes and my back gets drenched with sweat, but I can talk to strangers in small groups and smile, and actually enjoy it now. A little. I am married to a gregarious extrovert and at parties I try to keep up with him (at my own pace of course) and I can do it! Maybe everyone outgrows painful shyness and this is nothing unique. Either way, I am proud of myself because I never thought it would be possible to do anything other than hide in the corners.

Does this scowl make me look gay?

2010-09-29T18:42:00.000-07:00

I love short hair. I mean super short hair. It's easy to care for, easy to color, and works under a bike helmet. It doesn't use much shampoo and doesn't actually NEED to be washed often.

I've seen a bunch of cute actresses lately with really short hair under the headlines of such words as Gamine, Feminine, Sophisticated. I know I'm not going to look like them with their same hair cut but I always find myself telling my stylist "yes! perfect! go shorter!"

Once I leave the magical lighting of the salon and see myself at home, out from under the cape, I find myself like this:

It's a good cut and my stylist did exactly what I asked her to do. I just have to remember that I don't have a feminine or delicate face so a super short 'do like this isn't going to make people call me a gamine. More like butch. Not that there's anything wrong with that! How much make-up I wear is directly related to how short my hair is, and I'm wearing WAY TOO LITTLE make-up here. Excuse me while I got put on some lipstick.

I am us, we are me

2010-09-28T12:32:00.000-07:00

Here's a little something from Free Will Astrology that I saved from a few years ago. This always makes me feel peaceful and connected.

LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): The water you drink is three billion years old, give

or take five million years. The stuff your body is made of is at least ten

billion years old, probably older, and has been as far away as 100,000

light years from where it is right now. The air you breathe has, in the

course of its travels, been literally everywhere on the planet, and has

slipped in and out of the lungs of almost every human being who has ever

lived. There's much more evidence I could offer to prove to you that

you're an infinite and eternal creature, Leo, but suffice it to say that

you're much greater and older and bigger and wilder and freer than you

have ever imagined. The experiences you'll soon have will give you a

deeply felt sense of how true that is.

Tea time!

2010-09-28T11:30:00.000-07:00

I used to run a tea factory in my backyard in the fall. I'd pick the fallen leaves selecting only the finest for tea and put them in my wagon collecting bin. Then I'd fill it with water and let it sit for a few days going out to stir it. As the leaves brewed I'd add special herbs and and sprinkles in the form of grass clippings and rocks. My tea had the most delicious earthy scent, which is still one of my favorite scent memories from fall. I love smelling that each year right around now. Wet Seattle is the perfect place to smell that fall tea.

Hurry up, white guy

2010-09-27T11:41:00.000-07:00

I was waiting for the red hand to change to the white guy allowing me to cross the street. I had pushed the cross button several times and since this cross walk is not at an intersection, it is on a schedule of changing when certain unreachable conditions are met. It takes forever. I stood there for a while before the white guy finally appeared.

I thought it was funny that another woman joined me wanting to cross and the stars aligned allowing the light to change seconds after SHE pushed the button. On the whole walk across the street and back home I was thinking that she thought I was stupidly standing there waiting for the light to magically change and all I had to do was push that little button. See what happens when the button is pushed? It changes!

Then I smirked to myself - how silly it was that I was thinking that. And who cares if that's what she thought? Right? But you know I totally cared.

Play things

2010-09-27T11:35:00.000-07:00

My cat goes nuts for my ear buds. As soon as I put them down he comes out of nowhere wanting to bite and bat them. I think he likes the texture but I wouldn't be surprised if he likes the taste too.

Politics and Semantics

2010-09-23T17:09:00.000-07:00

I am going through my old myspace account before deleting it and I thought I'd post some of what I wrote over there to this blog in order to consolidate. This was from March 22, 2007.

A week ago I saw a sign on the library door that read:

ALL LIBRARIES
WILL BE CLOSED
DUE TO HISTORIC
LOW USAGE

SUNDAY, APRIL 8
(EASTER)

At first I had to reread it because upon my original scan I thought it said that libraries will be closed on "historic low usage day." Since I had never heard of that day I knew it wasn't a holiday. Then my second thought was that it had something to do with electricity (low usage/low wattage), which is odd that I didn't automatically assume it meant low library patronage. Those thoughts rushed through my mind so quickly that I realized neither was the case almost as fast as I wondered it.

I'm fascinated by the wording on this sign. The note is saying that the library will be closed on Easter, but why didn't they just leave it at that. "All libraries will be closed on Easter, Sunday April 8." Why the explanation that on Easter, not many people visit the library system? Is the city-run library system distancing themselves from a Christian holiday by saying that BECAUSE people won't be using the library (as history dictates) they won't be open? That day just HAPPENS to be Easter, a Christian holiday? As if they could just as easily choose any other day to be closed that's not historically well attended? Is Easter the real reason the library will be closed, but they can't say they are closing for a religious holiday? If the library admitted to be closed in observance of a Christian holiday could they be sued for not also observing a Muslim holiday, for example?

I thought about all these questions on the drive back home and for the past week and still haven't decided what reason is most likely true. Any of them could be. All of them could be. Now I'm back to being impressed by the wording. It is briefly perfect and fully educational. I can't think of a better way to say all that information. "Not many people come to the library on Easter, which is Sunday April 8 this year, so the library won't be open." Too wordy. "We are not saying we are or are not celebrating Easter, but we won't be open because in the past people generally don't visit the library." That obviously won't do.

Any shorter way I think to write this leaves out a vital bit of information. "The library will be closed on April 8 due to low attendance" - WHY? What's going on April 8? "The library will be closed on Easter" - When is Easter? As already mentioned, are they celebrating a Christian holiday?

Good job, Seattle Public Library. I wonder how many other people are as impressed with this sign as I am. Other grammar nerds, no doubt.

My humor

2010-09-23T17:03:00.001-07:00

I find this definition for "eye" kind of funny:

A nearly spherical hollow organ that is lined with a sensitive retina, is lodged in a boney orbit in the skull, is the vertebrate organ of sight, and is normally paired. –Merriam Webster's Medical Dictionary

(normally paired, if you're lucky)

ENGLiSH, the offical lanoguage!

2010-04-03T18:51:00.000-07:00

I have had enoungh of these rediculous "offical" signs with poor ENGLiSH, butchering the lanoguage. I did'nt know so many people we're celebrating feedom, hating socilism, and wanting to impeah Borak Oboma. No one likes liers and its' terrible when things aren't wroking right, no exections. Most importantly, lets keep that sactity of marriage so this is not a repeat of 1930's Gemany!*

*All these misspellings were taking right from signs on this Teabonics Flickr stream.

Mighty Life List

2010-03-26T10:48:00.000-07:00

Inspired by Maggie Mason of www.mightygirl.com, I've decided to make my own Mighty Life List. Some people call it a bucket list, but that sounds too dull and morbid. Things to do before I kick the bucket? No, I'd rather it be a list that reflects living and enjoying those things I've always wanted to do. She calls it a Mighty Life List and I can't think of anything better. I like the idea of feeling mighty and accomplished!

I know there have been times when I've said outloud "I want to do that!" but until now, I haven't really taken it seriously. I'm making a list of those things I want to do. Some are going to take so long to accomplish that I almost don't want to put them on the list. I don't want to feel intimidated. I also believe that when you put desires out there, mysterious things happen in ways you couldn't have planned.

I'll add to this list as I think of new things, and cross them off when I do them. Hopefully I'll write a post about the activity.

Sometimes I write things on lists that I've already done, just so I can cross them off. I'm also doing that here as a little bit of extra motivation. (Except, I can't figure out how to strikethrough words, so I'll put the done things in italics for now.)

skate in a roller derby game
take trapeze lessons
ride the conference bike, pictured above (http://www.conferencebike.com/)
learn to change a bicycle tire

The evolving list:

- Shoot a gun at a gun range

- Speak French fluently

- Travel in Europe for at least a month

- Bicycle across several states

- Go zip lining

- Visit the petrified Ginko forest (just a short drive away!)

- Learn common and Latin tree names for those in my area

- Snorkel with fish in clear water

- Make a quilt

- Knit or crochet a blanket

- Take tango lessons

- "Sky dive" in a vertical wind tunnel

- Vacation in Mexico when the Monarch butterflies return (early November)

- Whale watching from a boat

- Learn to play poker (this one is mostly just so I understand poker references. I'm not expecting to enjoy it.)

- Learn to make a website

- Learn calligraphy

- Have a baby

- Be adept at basic bicycle maintenance

- Know how to change a car tire

Hey Ladie's!

2010-03-25T21:28:00.000-07:00

Oh how I love making fun of printed typos. I've been keeping my knitting supplies in my roller skate box, and it wasn't until this morning that I noticed this offensive use of the apostrophe.

When I see things like this I think about all the people who had a hand in making and printing this box. Didn't anyone notice that ladies should NOT have an apostrophe? They probably even had to pay extra for the additional character.

There will always be a job for grammar nerds like me. I just wish they would have called me before printing.

Two weeks of winter

2010-03-07T14:55:00.000-08:00

I never thought I'd want my February vacation destination to be just outside of Buffalo, NY. I never knew I would meet a man from Lockport, NY and love his family, either.

The first time I visited was a September, when things are usually cooling off and the leaves are starting to turn color; when they put away shorts and start to wear thin sweaters. When I arrived I breathed in expecting crisp air and instead got a big gulp of heat and humidity. I was prepared for weather in the 60s and I spent my week sweating in my corduroys and hoodies. Looking back, I don't know why I didn't just go to the local store and buy a pair of cheap shorts and a tank top.

Two years later, in 2008, my husband-to-be and I visited in late October to get married in Niagara Falls, NY. It was scarf and long sleeve weather that time but due to the hot, dry summer that preceded, the leaves were still mostly green. One of these days I'll get out there for a real east coast autumn - I've heard the locals brag about those.

After seeing a hot summer (I consider that September "summer") and a cooler autumn, the next logical time to visit would be winter, right? Naturally. My husband and I have talked about moving to the east coast, that dreaded east coast, the place I've always been warned about due to the winters. The place that turns desert dwellers into stone. I'm only considering it because I like his family enough to think it might be ok to have my blood turn to ice for half the year. I thought it would be wise to visit Western New York in the middle of winter to see if I could take it. Plus, don't tell anyone, I kind of like the snow and wanted to see Niagara Falls when it's fluffy with snow and ice.

Fast forward to February 2010. The Farmer's Almanac predicted that the middle 2 weeks of February are typically snowy with temperatures in the mid 20s to low 30s. It just so happened that my father-in-law has a week off from teaching for winter break for one of those weeks. Tickets booked! By another lucky chance, the time we scheduled to visit coincided with the Winter Olympics in Vancouver. I watched a lot of Olympics!

Wouldn't you know that in Lockport NY, they not only have CBC, but also CTV! I was able to watch the Canadian Olympics on a Canadian channel. I was happy that I didn't have to rely on NBC for the coverage. My husband summarized it perfectly with his impersonation of the dialog you'd hear on NBC, "Well Bob, they just need to put the pedal to the metal and pull out all the stops here. This team needs to give it everything they've got and go out and really win that thing!" American sportscasters are excellent at talking without ever saying anything.

What's the Olympics without a little booze? OK - A lot of booze. New York doesn't have government controlled liquor stores like Washington and the prices are unbelievably cheap in comparison. When we first arrived we went to the liquor store and bought $70 worth of scotch, brandy, and tequila that would have easily cost twice as much in Seattle. Oh, and the reason we bought so much booze? The things we bought on our last trip, things we were expecting to still be left-over hanging out in that back cabinet, guess where they went? My adorable mother-in-law, who doesn't drink, decided to mix everything together. She thought since they smelled the same she might as well save some space and mix them all together. Even after relentless teasing from Adam, she thought that saving space trumped him being "finicky about his booze."

I had a wonderful time sitting by the fireplace with a scotch in hand while looking out the window at falling snow. I went for walks in the snow and shoveled the driveway. Even though I was on the opposite side of the country from Vancouver, I felt closer to the athletes as they competed on the snow and ice when I was able to look outside and see the same. I thoroughly enjoyed my little bit of winter. I loved it for two weeks and as I congratulate myself for making it through, I wonder if I could really take it for four or five months. I had no trouble in 20 degree weather but I know it gets much colder! In just two weeks I got tired of the effort it took to get dressed for the outdoors.

Now that I'm back home to an early spring in full bloom, I'm realizing that the East Coast is starting to appeal to me in the smallest way. I find myself looking at the plum tree in the yard and pretending the white puffy branches are covered in snow instead of blossoms. I wish I could have stayed in New York with my in-laws to ride out the long winter and rejoice with them when their trees begin to bud. I like watching them crack open and seeing the blooms peek out, noting how much bigger they are than the day before. It almost feels unfair that I fast forwarded to spring in Seattle and missed that wonderful transition period. I guess that means the next vacation to Lockport, NY will be in the spring!

Speak your mind

2010-01-13T21:07:00.000-08:00

I'm celebrating myself with a nice little shot of tequila. I did something tonight that I'm so proud of, something that has been years in the making. Won't you celebrate with me and share my excitement?

I'm generally terrible at speaking up for myself. I've been shy all my life and my nature is to keep quiet. I don't like to speak up and be uncomfortable, but mostly I'm concerned about making others feel awkward. I'll go out of my way to keep the peace, not rock the boat, cause no tension, but I don't like the way I feel about it. Although it makes me want to throw up to speak up, I can tell in my gut that keeping quiet is not always what I *really* want to do.

There's a bumper sticker I've loved from the first time I saw it over 10 years ago. The saying has become my mantra every time I try to talk courage into myself. "Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes." I used to keep quiet rather than speak up because I would be embarrassed if my face turned red, or if I cried. Let me just admit that I am a crier. Pampers commercials make me cry. I operate on high emotions and my body's reaction to fear, anger, and happiness is to cry. Since reading that bumper sticker I've decided that it's ok to blubber through something I really want to say. It still happens sometimes, but lately I've come out of those experiences with only a shaky voice and not so many tears!

Tonight I feel like I had a bit of a graduation into what I've been trying to be. I went to a yoga class through the experimental college offered at the local community center. In the first 10 minutes I knew it was not what I was looking for. It's been a few years since I've gone but I'm more advanced than the class. I felt like I had walked into a class in a nursing home that taught seniors how to stretch. There's a difference between yoga asanas and stretching your hamstrings by pulling on your leg. About 15 minutes into the class I was thinking of a way to get out of it.

I paid $60 for a 6 weeks class and even though that's a good deal I knew I would not be going back to the class. For an hour and a half I considered packing up and leaving and losing my money. Was it worth $60 to avoid a confrontation? As soon as I realized that I could attend 4 good yoga classes at a studio with that money, I knew I had to speak my mind and let my voice shake.

After class I waited for the other 6 people to leave and approached the teacher. In my sweetest voice I said, "Is there a way I can just pay for this class? I won't be coming back." I actually spoke my mind without mincing words; I stated what I wanted and had a clear head about it! This is such a huge deal for me!

I stuck to the point and brought tangents back around to what I wanted to say. She pointed out that she had to thoroughly explain the moves and go slow so new people wouldn't be left behind. I told her I support people learning yoga but because I was past that stage I needed a more challenging class. I think she might have started to get a little defensive and told me that sometimes it takes time to get used to the style of a new teacher. I let her know that her teaching style didn't affect my decision - it was simply too basic of a class. When she let me know that she would not be going over the same asanas every week that gave me another opportunity to get back to my point. That rate of asana introduction was too slow. In an hour and a half we did 8 stretches. I could see that line of conversation continuing and I didn't want it to. I ended it with, "So how much do I owe you for this class tonight?"

It was then that she went about giving me back $52. I kept a clear head and stayed focused on the point. I was able to be nice about it AND state what I wanted. Later as I've been thinking about this, little doubts have started creeping in. "Was that an OK thing to do? Should I have just stuck with it?" I had to remind myself that I was doing something FOR me and not something TO her. It was awkward and uncomfortable and I hated every second of it, but I DID IT! I have made one little step toward living my life for myself and standing up to speak what I wanted. Extra points for me - my voice didn't even shake!

Inspired by a windy Seattle day

2010-01-04T14:33:00.000-08:00

Flags snap
Gulls hover over teal water with sharp white peaks
Clouds glide behind dancing trees
Leaning into the wind tasting Puget Sound

And what did Santa bring for you?

2009-12-20T20:32:00.000-08:00

I was just recalling a time when my friend's dad asked me what Santa brought me for Christmas. I must have been young enough where it was possible to still believe, but old enough to have a good deal of logic. I sat there and smiled because I didn't know what to say. Or maybe I didn't smile. Likely I had a look of panic and a tense smile that was moments away from turning into the ugly mouth that crumples before crying. I can find the words in writing, but in real life I'm usually stumped. I'd never believed in Santa but I couldn't say that there was no Santa in front of my friend! I didn't want to be the one to spill the secret. I also couldn't tell him what "Santa" did give me, because in knowing that Santa didn't exist I would be lying. I was such an honest kid that I didn't even know how to lie. I couldn't figure out how to say what my presents were without admitting they were from my parents. Finally I said, "I don't know" because I just didn't know what to say.

I think of that often and still wonder what my friend's dad thought of that strange little girl who didn't know what Santa brought her for Christmas.

Happy Holidays! Santa told me that I should say that.

Tasha vs Tasha

2009-12-15T13:24:00.000-08:00

I'm having an argument with myself and trying to decide who wins.

I'm lucky right now and have a bit of a dream job. I get to edit and work at home. I don't have to go anywhere, which is awesome since I'm a homebody. I can stay home for days and be perfectly fine. (House arrest would be cake if I ever got in trouble.) I don't have to make fake chit chat or act cheery if I don't want to. I don't have someone looking over my shoulder. I can have bad hair days, my clothes don't have to match, I can talk to myself. I work with cats on my lap. Best of all? I don't even have to get dressed if I don't want to. And that's where the argument comes in.

This is a 7 month contract job that I'm 4 months into and I'll soon be "back to work." This is a much needed break from the "real work-world" and it feels like I'm getting time off. Part of me thinks I should get up early and get dressed every day so it's not such a shock when I have to do that again. The other part tells me I should relax and enjoy what I have while I have it.

Oddly, it just came to me a few weeks ago that I didn't HAVE to get up at 7:30 to start working at 9 or 9:30. I could get up at 8:50 if I want! Who says I have to put on a pair of pants that button when I can wear my pajama bottoms and a robe? I feel really special and fancy when I dress up now (get dressed, rather). Unfortunately, this is resulting in me not feeling so great about myself. I don't like that I feel lazy and unkempt and stagnant. I don't feel attractive. I'm in a rut where now I don't want to bike and I consider myself an avid cyclist. I'm starting to feel flabby and then I feel worse. Hey, let me have another beer and add more empty calories to my diet. Why isn't this enough motivation for me to get out there then? I know how good exercise makes me feel. Why do I feel MORE like staying in my pajamas and not doing anything for myself?

Why can't I thoroughly enjoy working from home AND keep myself motivated to take care of myself? Where's my balance? I wonder if this is how stay-at-home moms feel.

So, I continue to argue with myself while sitting at home in my pajamas, angry at myself that I'm not motivated to get up and go outside, while loving that I can sit here in my pajamas, but feeling ugly.

Cruising in a cruiser

2009-12-05T11:47:00.000-08:00

I've never been arrested, but when I was 20 I took a ride in the back of a cop car. In 1992 I was visiting my grandpa in Texas and I was going on morning bike rides on his old 3 speed bike. I'm an avid bicyclist now so I cringe when I look back and wonder what I was thinking - no helmet and no knowledge of road rules for bicycling in the street.

I always thought you should ride AGAINST traffic so you and the drivers could see each other but I ended up with my head breaking a car windshield and a tooth knocked out. Remember the part about no helmet? L-U-C-K-Y me! I was fine except for the tooth.

The cops came, an ambulance came, and I was knocked silly. So silly that the ambulance folks had to convince me to get out of the middle of the road where I was looking for my tooth. I really thought the dentist could put it back together. I know I argued with them, convinced I was right.

I was just a few blocks from my grandpa's house - I had ALMOST made it back - but the bike was so bent up that I couldn't push it or ride it so I ended up in the back seat of the cop car...I *think* I might have asked for a ride.

Now here is the embarrassing part. As I was sitting behind the wire fencing on the hard molded plastic seat of a police car giving directions while silly with shock, I recognized one of the cops as James K from my high school English class. (Did you know the back seat of a cop car was hard plastic and not plush? Makes sense if they have to hose it out. I think I even exclaimed my surprise and slid around for emphasis.) I was the shy girl who never spoke in class and there I was trying to be friendly and chatty with James, telling him I recognized him from high school! "Remember! From Mr. Frank's class? I sat next to you!"

At the time I was kind of put off that he was being all professional, acting like he didn't remember and telling me to calm down or something. When I think about it now from his perspective, I see a crazy bruised and bloody girl missing a front tooth, fingers through the wire mesh, trying to be uncharacteristically chatty and him trying to be cool in front of his partner. I can only imagine the ribbing he must have gotten after they dropped me off. "Oooh, you really attract those crazy girls!" The thing is, I thought he was a jerk in high school.

I hope that's the last time I am ever locked in the back of a cop car. I don't think any other reason for being there would be as funny.

No more splinters

2009-09-22T17:40:00.000-07:00

It appears our landlord is going to replace the deck with some of that fancy recycled plastic stuff that looks good forever. This is great news since there are several places where the wood is soft and rotten, there's a hornets' nest tucked up under it, and oh, it looks like shit.

I've enjoyed three things about the deck in the year I've lived here: sunshine, being up high, and peeling the paint. I like to peel paint. Someone years back decided to paint it a terrible pale blueish gray and years of Seattle weather have caused it to curl and peel, much to my delight. I can't describe the thrill I get on a hot day when the remaining paint is soft and pliable and I can peel it like sunburned skin. Oh the rush when a big section comes up!

Today, the first day of fall, was nearly 90 degrees and the paint peeled just how I like it to come up. I'm excited to have a new deck where I won't have to wonder if my foot is going to fall through or if I'll get splinters in my toes, but I'll have to find something else to be neurotic about while I sit on the new deck.

Sharing the oddities

2009-09-21T16:51:00.000-07:00

I'm going to try posting here more often with just some random thoughts or things that bring me joy rather than only when I have a story to tell.

Here's today's thing that made me smile and feel a little goofy. I have weighted contact lenses to correct a slight astigmatism. When I look at the lenses I can tell which part should be at the bottom 6 o'clock position. I like to put them in with the weighted half at the top so that I can feel them turn into the correct position and watch my vision get more and more sharp with each blink.

Joy!

Well that was weird

2009-06-13T08:15:00.000-07:00

As if a waxing appointment wasn't awkward enough, I had one the other day that has prompted a post so I can stop thinking about it! I didn't go to my regular location so I didn't see the woman who usually leaves me bare and smooth and I don't think I'll do that again. I hope my lady never leaves and she'll one day wax my 80 year old legs.

Before I ever had my legs waxed I thought it would be horrifying to lie there half naked, hairy legs exposed, and twisted into unnatural positions while someone else rips my hair out. I can deal with the pain, but I thought I would eventually run out of places to go because how could I face the same person again after she's seen me like THAT? Well, the unexpected thing is that this vulnerability makes me want only one person to help me out. I started feeling protective of myself and now I don't want just anyone seeing me in my undies.

The whole thing was awkward and clunky. I rode my bike there from work and since it was a hot day I was wearing my skorts, which is an awful name by the way. As I waited at lights standing with my bike I could imagine the bicyclists behind me STARING at my man legs wondering why that dude was wearing a pink top and a skort. I could feel the breeze whipping those little long hairs around catching the sun and reflecting them like tinsel. I felt like I took the tassels from my handle bars and stuck them on my legs.

You would think that I'd feel comfortable sitting in the waiting area of a waxing salon among my people, but it turns out most women hide behind pants until their legs are ready to come out in public again. Not me! I sit there with nowhere to hide willing my time to hurry up while trying to cool off and dry my sweat. At last, hurray! Here she comes to bring me back. Oh wait. Did I get the new girl? Awww hell.

I turn into a dork in new situations. I just can't play it cool and look like I know what I'm doing. There at the new location with different decor and a different layout with a different esthetician, there's a different routine. She was soft spoken and timid and as I stood up to greet her she said something, turned, and disappeared down the hallway into the room. Did she ask me to give her a minute? Should I just stand here with my tinsel legs and wait for her to come back? Is she waiting for me in the room wondering where I am? When will she come back for me? Why am I just STANDING here? Maybe she asked me to come on back. Just a minute. Come on back. They don't even have the same number of syllables. What did she SAY? Why would she come out for me if she wasn't ready, right? OK I'm going back and I hope I don't walk in one someone naked.

It turns out she wasn't ready and I startled her when she turned around. It became an Eddie Izzard moment, "Oh, I....sorry, should I.....oh, I'll just....ok." Somehow she was also communicating it was ok, go ahead and put the bag down and hop up on this table. And because I just HAD to explain myself I tried to tell her what was going through my head in the waiting area, but sometimes it's just better to smile and move on. I forget that just because I surround myself with people who GET me, who are all a little bit out of the ordinary, the normal unsuspecting stranger isn't necessarily going to think it's as funny as I do. Yeah.

I don't understand the practice of leaving the room for privacy while I take off my stupid skort when in just a couple of minutes she'll see me in my underwear anyway. I quickly wiggled out of my bike stuff, sat on the table, and oh no not THIS AGAIN! Which way should I have my legs? OK that way - there's where the wax pot is. But wait, should I be on my back or my stomach? Why doesn't this lady speak up and give me some instruction? Well, I'll just sit here with this ridiculous tea towel covering half my lap. After forever has passed she finally came back in looking confused that I wasn't in The Position. And it never got better.

After she started doing her thing, I couldn't hear what she was mumbling so I'm not sure if she was making conversation or giving me instructions. Eventually I stopped saying, "what?!" and decided to just smile. And when she would suddenly move my leg I'd startle and stiffen in surprise and she'd be wrestling with my locked leg trying to maneuver me into a pose. It must have looked funny. I think we fed off each others awkwardness and I never relaxed like I do with the woman I usually see. Thankfully I was not there for a Brazilian and I'm used to this kind of torture because she hadn't quite mastered a technique. It was more painful than usual.

In the end it was worth it. The cool breeze soothed my legs on the ride home and I didn't even mind standing at the lights. I had hoped I'd impress the other bikers with my smooth legs, but that appointment took so long that I was the lone bicyclist on the normally crowded spandex highway. At least now I can continue to wear my skort even if I do get that weird summer tan line.

Egg Kabunza!

2009-05-26T12:10:00.000-07:00

I'm sure most people have had a version of this delicious egg and toast breakfast. This was one of the few things my dad could make that would always turn out great.

We had a special orange tupperware cookie cutter that made the perfect size hole in the bread. After making the hole (you can also use a cup!) you crack an egg into the bread while it's on the skillet. Fry the egg and flip the whole thing. You can then use the punched out hole to mop up the yolk.

I'm curious what other people call this. In our house it was called Egg Kabunza. I didn't realize until later that this was a name my dad made up and no wonder no one else ever knew what I was talking about when I asked if they wanted an Egg Kabunza for breakfast.

That One Time I Moo'd

2009-05-25T08:32:00.000-07:00

I look forward to my bike ride to work. For me it's a half hour to fully wake up and start feeling alive. I don't know if I'm a morning person or not. I enjoy the quietness, color of the sky, and the crisp undisturbed air. But I can't carry on a conversation and I get grumpy if I try. Years ago, I quickly found out that the 5 a.m. barista shift was not for me. A grumpy morning talker trying to serve espresso to grumpy people pre-caffeine? I'm surprised I wasn't fired. If I had my way, customers would have written their orders on scrap paper and if they didn't make eye contact with me I might make their drink. It would depend on if they had brushed their teeth.

For the sake of this story, I'll say I'm a morning person unless there are other people involved. Something happened last week. The sun was warm, the sky was clear and blue, birds were chirping, and the flowers looked just right in the morning light. What's this feeling? Happy in the morning? My usual scowl must have softened and the prickly warning I emit cautioning others not to even bother nodding a hello turned fluffy. I passed another bicyclist while walking through the Ballard Locks and I found myself turning my head to look at him, smiling, and saying hello. WHAT? And then I matched his pace for an exchange about the weather? And can you believe I didn't even want to push him over the fence into the duck-filled water below?

After I passed him and turned the corner I came across an oncoming bicyclist. I was still in shock over my pleasant morning encounter and was running the conversation over in my head. My shackles had not yet raised back up and while I was still showing signs of pleasantry, this second bicyclist nodded and said hello. Because of the activity in my head and being somewhat surprised, my greeting didn't come out as planned. My brain tried to say hi, g'morning, and good day all at the same time but it came out as "guhrmooooooooo....."

And I didn't even look around to see who else might have seen me walking by myself, mooing, and laughing out loud. It was the kind of good morning that makes the rest of my day.

Happy Five Years!

2009-05-21T12:17:00.000-07:00

Happy Anniversary to us! On May 25 we'll celebrate five years together, and what a wonderful time we've had. This was taken outside of Buffalo, NY on our elopement/honeymoon/vacation trip in October 2008. It was the perfect wedding. Just our style.

Burpless Muncher!

2009-04-17T16:44:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago my neighbor and I planted a garden! There was some existing space and because the sun is just so great at the south end of the yard, he dug up some more space. We now have over 500 square feet of garden space.

It turns out, the garden was a major selling point for both of us to move into the side-by-side duplex. He and his roomie moved in a month before me and my husband. Fortunately we all like each other because we share one big backyard and a deck that runs along the back of the house. No fences for us.

Neighbor-J knows a lot about gardening. His parents live on a farm so he's putting his knowledge to good use, and I am getting experience learning from a master. I've been going outside every day to check on the seedlings, but thanks to some freak SNOW on April 1, it hasn't been warm enough for anything to come up.

We'll have a full crop of strawberries, rhubarb, peas, beans, tomatoes, salad greens, beets, and a few sunflowers and poppies. My favorite thing we planted though? It HAS to be the burpless muncher cucumbers, not so much for the actual fruit (fruit right? it has seeds...) but for the name.

"What are you eating? That looks delicious!"
"Oh, it's just a salad I made from my burpless munchers! Bite?"

Bored, Frustrated, and Blue

2008-12-28T14:16:00.000-08:00

I just posted a tweet: "Can I have the after-holiday blues when I wasn't even looking forward to xmas? I'm crabby there's nothing to look forward to being over."

I need more room to elaborate because I still don't feel better after getting that out. I don't want to do anything and nothing sounds good. I have chores that I don't want to do, even when most of the time I can tolerate them. This time it's even things I enjoy - painting the walls, picking up fallen apples, organizing the closet, making the bed. I know if I don't do them I'll feel even worse tomorrow when I'm back to work after 4 days off. I'll be wishing I could be home doing house work.

Maybe I'm upset about life getting back to normal, even though I've hated this past month. Work will slow down and I'll get caught up again, and that's good right? But it's the same thing as always. The week of snow we had is over and that means no more working from home, away from the ringing phone and whiny customers. Life is going back to just plain ol' life. There are no more distractions keeping me from focusing on the things I don't like and need to change.

I got a Christmas card from a family whose little girl I took care of as a nanny. I watched her until she was 6 months old and now she's 7. I did that job so I could get away from the office and figure out what I wanted to do. Now I'm back in the office, still trying to figure out what I want to do and now that it's 7 years later I still have nothing to show for it. Personally, I'm where I want to be. I've found and married my best match and feel like I won the lottery. My personal life is the most important thing in keeping me happy and I know it's not the only thing I need. Where am I professionally? Creatively? Seven years later, I'm working in customer service. I have a college degree and editing skills that I would love to put to good use. Customer Service. Nothing like writing that out for an ego boost. I never wanted to be the 30-something lady with no direction, working in a job meant for college students, with a younger, more driven boss. That's why he's the boss.

There are parts of the job I like, yet there are more parts I don't like. Where can I find the job where I can write instructions, do research, find answers, put two and two together to fill in the missing information, be an expert in my field, be respected, and never be yelled at by the general public? And General Public, it's ok to be frustrated and upset, however never take that out on someone trying to do their job, probably not liking it, and wishing they could tell you exactly what they think of you. I don't have much faith in you, General Public.

So here I sit with a shortening day and that same long list of chores and bigger things looming. Can I sleep a long restful sleep to wake up and find it's all been taken care of? Why do you only get three impossible wishes in fairy tales and not in real life?

Bloggy Bloggerings

2008-12-22T01:15:00.000-08:00

Now I have a blog and I don’t know what to say. A weblog. Captain’s Log. I shall join the ranks of captains all over with my blog. I’ve kept a diary since I was about 7. Rather, I started my first diary at 7ish. I would write every day but then I could only keep that up for a few months and after I’d skip a day, then a week I would just give it up because catching up with everything that happened since the last entry was too big a chore. Chores equals no fun, and who wants writing to be a chore? Not someone who enjoys it.

So here’s my blog. Do I just write and never correct grammar and spelling? Just let it out sounding the same as I speak? Being the grammar nerd I am, you KNOW I have to go back and fix it. Sometimes even before the sentence is over, I can’t go on without fixing that THING! That GLARING thing that’s wrong.

Interesting that I say “you know” as if I’m writing to someone. Who is this you? This invisible audience. Look at me assuming someone might stumble upon this and be interested in what I have to say. Isn’t that part of my secret dream? Other people do it – why can’t I? This may very well be something to use to keep in touch with family scattered all over the US. Hi Everybody! I miss you, hugs and kisses! It’s odd that I would even want my words out there in the internets for all to see, because I’ve always hated it when people read my words. I get embarrassed and squirmy and expect a critique I don’t want to hear although they might be right. Even writing in my childhood diaries and then adolescent journals, I would wonder if anyone would stumble upon them and turn my life into a book or a movie, like Anne Frank. It’s just an example, of course. Settle down.

So what am I doing with a blog? A world wide screen into my thoughts? Here’s where I get squirmy. It’s a need to write as expression and art. Maybe it’s practice for something I can do for a living. Maybe it’s because I’ve been told since I was in grade school that I’m weird and I’ve always taken it as a compliment. I do think some odd thoughts, and sometimes there’s just no one around to say them to. I would hate to waste it! And because I call this art I feel like I’m not good enough, I don’t express myself very well, I don’t have anything to say, there’s nothing creative about it. Suddenly that cripples me and I don’t even start since I’m scared I’ll fail. I can’t be an artist in theory so here’s where I’ll practice and grow and make note of my observations. Here’s where I shake my fist at those who say I can’t, even if all those people are versions of my own voices. This is me right now listening to my future self who said I had to start somewhere. I’m not yet there creatively and professionally and I know just doing something will start the chain of events that get me somewhere. Here’s where I start. Hello, internet.

The big black noisy oyster bled blue buggy bumpers!

2008-11-29T08:27:00.000-08:00

What better way to start this page than a tongue twister that inspired the title!

What noise annoys a noisy oyster?
A noisy noise annoys a noisy oyster!

It's not really hard to say but I find it fun saying it over and over. I think it's funny that the more times I say it the louder I get and the more my face stretches with each "OY!" It's very similar to the mascara face women get, full round eyes and all!

My other two favorite tongue twisters are from childhood. As much as I practiced them I could never master saying them three times fast. It was the ultimate childhood goal, those kids in the school yard would have you believe.

Rubber baby buggy bumpers!

Rubber baby buggy bumpers
Rubber baygee buggy bumpers
Rubber baby bumby bunkers

The big black bug bled blue blood
The big back bug bled blue blub
The blig back bug bled blue blug

Your favorites? What do you end up saying instead?