May 2005 Archives
When I see the doctor on Tuesday I've got to let him know I can't exist without the Vicodin. The moment it wears off the searing pain where the kink is burns throughout my tummy. It's weird, but I can't seem to focus enough to crochet. I used to take the stuff before the surgery to deal with the rectal dragon and my mind didn't glaze over. Now I'm really glazed and I haven't touched the doily I was working on since going into the hospital. I miss crocheting.
I do hope that whatever the kink is that it works itself out and will go away once the inflammation of surgery subsides as the doctor feels that it will. I don't cherish the thought of having to go back in for the surgeon to straighten out the kink as I fear he'd have to cut me totally open to do it. Maybe he would be able to resolve it by going through the stoma incision area? I have no clue about those sort of things. Anything is possible.
Maybe tomorrow I'll bring out the doily and see if I can't work on it. Even if I work slowly at it, every stitch counts towards it being made.
If you live in Kentucky or in the South then you know what that today's entry title refers to. Today I learned what it is. I'm going to have to make it! The trick is, finding a pot big enough!
Seems that there is no standard recipe other than a basic outline of ingredients. I like this kind of recipe. It allows for creative culinary expression. Therefore, I found three different recipes online and will create my own version from what appears to be consistent ingredients across all of them. I will have to first buy a stock pot large enough and see if I can't invite some people over to eat it with us once I make it. If you're in the area, consider stopping by and helping us eat it. I think it's going to make about 10 servings or more. I hope it freezes well.
Estimated date I'll be trying my hand at making burgoo will be after the first of the month. Hopefully a big stock pot won't cost too much money. And finding okra in the local grocery stores might prove to be difficult. It's not something I have ever looked for around here and I know it's not commonly used.
I gave Pooky a list for some ingredients to make some pork chops in mole sauce via the crockpot for tomorrow. He'll get the stuff after work and I can start it when I get up in the morning. I have no idea how long it will take to cook in the crockpot since the recipe isn't for a slow cooker, but it should work. I want the pork to be fork tender and a crockpot does that to pork.
The adjustment to being home in my own bed is not going well. I can't get comfortable (and I thought the hospital bed was nasty!) and so since I get up every hour to pee or drain the pouch, I thought I'd take a moment and post about the past blurry week of my life.
The good news is: everything down in the rectal land is doing great! No pain, and it seems to be healing nicely! Ding-dong the wicked dragon is dead!
I've not yet looked at the wound to see what was done to me. I can't exactly prop myself up and look down there even with the aid of a mirror so I have no idea what I look like now. I haven't really felt down there either because there is numbness and in general a strange feeling of there being something different.
Dr. S said that the never-ending abscess that I made him aware of turned out to be a rectal fistula and that the only way to really resolve it would have been to close up shop. I don't feel so bad about the decision to end the poop-chute knowing that.
Everything went well with recovery until it became apparent that something was wrong because I was throwing up more fluid than I was taking in, and nothing was coming out the ostomy. Don't mean to gross anyone out with this, but when the poop can't flow out due to a blockage what happens is you eventually throw up fecal material. This is what I started to do.
Long before that happened I could feel that something wasn't right with the ostomy, and tried to tell the nurses and doctor, but being that they think everything is just "usual pains of surgery" my complaints weren't taken seriously until the symptoms matched up. I could tell on the first night that there was something odd happening, that I could feel things wanting to move across the bowel but then get stopped up and then there was this INTENSE pain, like something pinching me.
Dr. S says that the "pinch" is a kink in the bowel where it turns to come out of the abdominal wall, not very far into the intestine at all because (sorry if this grosses you out even more) he inserted his finger into the stoma and probed around and felt the twist and managed to dilate it enough so that a catheter could be inserted to act as a stint. He feels that in about a month when all of the swelling goes down that I should be fine and that I won't need any further manipulations to correct the problem.
Being that the catheter has a very narrow inlet, my food has to be rather digestable and not prone to form "chunks". Even though I desire to eat a cheeseburger, the reality of it is not going to happen any time soon, because my whole system had its reset button pushed with the 7 days of vomitting. At best I can eat a half PBJ sandwhich or a small bowl of soup before I feel bloated and ready to collapse. I probably will be eating soft foods for a couple of weeks and progress slowly but surely.
There was a ton of e-mail and stuff to deal with upon coming home. The phonebook finally came out with my wedding officiant ad and so I anticipate getting calls for that soon, and I do hope I can muster up enough energy to perform the occasional wedding as we could use the money. I asked John not to work tonight because I was in need of getting settled in and didn't want to tackle it alone. One day's loss of pay means one of the utility bills doesn't get paid. Life sucks, but it goes on.
I realized that I won't be able to attend the final module of school—at least not with my classmates. I will have to make it up, but will have to do so with Winter track in a month or two. I hope to attend the final I-Group meeting and stick around for community closure so I can say my good-byes. I don't see how I could attend module with the severe dietary needs I have at the moment, as well as the total loss of energy I have. Not to mention the fact that I was instructed not to lift anything more than 10 pounds, and I haven't even gotten my ostomy supplies yet because I left without getting that from the doctor this afternoon. I'll get it on Tuesday.
Getting the ostomy supplies set up should be a process since I'll get it mail order from a place in Seattle. Hopefully they will have good service and I will enjoy working with them. When I called them today to request a catalog they were very friendly and helpful and were looking forward to doing business with me.
Well, I'm getting ready to try to sleep. Hopefully I will sleep not from sheer exhaustion, but that's probably how it will be.
The alarm went off at 4:30 am so we got up and Pooky fed the kittens while I played with them. Pooky is having breakfast now and I opted to stay away from any food because I am STARVING and would LOVE to eat myself silly!
I can hardly wait for 7am and hope that everything is running on time at the hospital. I should be the first case of the day (at least for my surgeon) and that means I shouldn't be delayed. I don't mind if there is a delay as long as I get a little of that happiness medicine ASAP!
I'm not nervous, just HUNGRY! I can't think about being nervous because my stomach is hallucinating and wants to EAT! I need to stop thinking about my hunger level. If I don't get back on task, I'll forget to take my favorite blanket and pillow.
We'll leave in about 30 minutes. I lament that I won't feel like eating real food for quite some time. I'll call up the memory of the AYCE rib feast from Sunday afternoon and relive the greasy goodness of it!
Post Script
Take a moment and congratulate Kari on being the latest recipient of The Bona Fide Shrone Award!Deneen's phone call got me out of bed. I had awoke about five minutes before the phone rang so was still in a sleepy haze. Talking to her incited me to really miss Pennsylvania! Her "accent" brought up fond memories of life back there, and most of those were about food!
I had a nutritive drink and then began to drink a bottle of magnesium citrate, "the sparkling laxative". While this laxative is one million times more friendly than drinkly Go-Lytely (however that is spelled), there is an incredible amount of citric acid in it for flavoring to the point of it being a real salivary gland stimulator. With each imbibement I'd make faces while "Steve" would talk out his answer to the oral exam. He'd laugh at some of my puckerings only to make me crack up.
Soon I was pooping out liquid red because the dye from the laxative wouldn't digest out.
For dinner I had chicken broth and snuck a few saltines. I then took a little more laxative just before bed.
Pooky and I enjoyed some marital love and then watched Sunday night's episode of "Family Guy" and let the kitten crawl around on us. This was a good idea until we realized that they peed all over us!
Going to a liquid diet wasn't too bad because I snuck a few saltine crackers, and I kept my mind occupied so I didn't think about food. Having the study session with "Steve" helped out because my mind was on the material we've covered the past year. He doesn't eat (at least not during study sessions) and so I wasn't lured and tempted with food.
I thought how I would like to tell about what I'll experience Wesnesday morning, already imaginging it in my mind. How when I arrive I'll first change into the hospital attire and wait forever before they start the IV.
Starting an IV on me is a real chore because my veins were damaged by years of prednisone, and never fully recovered. So getting one in a good place takes some finesse and luck. I have a spot that I refer to as my "veing of plenty" but it is in the crook of my arm at the elbow and they don't like putting them there. They may have to as when I get nervous my veins roll and collapse easily.
Once that is going I wait some more, and if I'm lucky when the anesthesia guy or gal comes around to ask me questions, they may give me some sedation. The sedation always makes me feel like I'm looking through a fish bowl.
I'll still be awake and they will have me scoot onto the gurney in the OR, and the OR is always freakin' cold, like a meat locker. They will stick the heart monitor pads all over my body, and since I'm getting the epidural, they will then get that poked into my back.
Finally, when I'm all connected and some magic moment happens they will put me into a drug induced sleep with some kind of white liquid that I refer to as "milk of amnesia" which has a name that I can never remember because it is the last thing they tell me and so it is the first thing that I forget.
I will awake some time later and will then feel real heavy and shiver a lot, and slowly my brain will register my body (but not my legs) and I will feel like I've been hit by a truck. The pain medicine will work, but I'll still feel twinges of sharp pain, and once they determine I'm coherent enough I'll be taken to my room.
At some point during the waking up process, Pooky will come in and be with me. He will look strange to me because of the medication, but I will smile happily to see him and feel warm inside that he is by my side.
From there it will all be one moment at a time until life settles back into being normal.
It felt like an egg was stuck in my butt for most of the day. The abscess also felt pinchy and disagreeable. Not a pleasant day down below.
I pondered how I should be able to remember this surgery date because it is the 25th anniversary of the big eruption of Mt. St. Helens. I don't recall the exact dates of my previous operations. I know that my first surgery was in July and I think it was on a Friday. It was either the 20th or 27th. Then my first reconnection surgery was in January 1991, and that date escapes me entirely. It was after the 20th of the month.
My second round of surgeries, I think it was June 5th in 1995, and the reconnection surgery was in August. I have no idea when in August. It didn't seem all that important to remember the date. But with this date, I have a memory connection to something else and so I can't see ever forgetting it. (Knock on wood)
My education over the past year has emphasized tracking my internal emotional state and to feel what is going on within my body. I have a lot of anxiety squeezing inside of my guts. I'm curious why I feel so anxious and I have to answer that the "thing" I dread/fear the most is the pain. Pain medication can only do so much. I recall how a simple cough can turn into a horrible experience in which it feels like everything is going to rupture inside of me.
I also feel myself wanting to check out, to not feel because to truly feel would mean that I have to admit that my butt is about to be closed up. Going numb is a defense mechanism. I'm struggling to remain connected to my body, to feel the anxiety, to let the butterflies flutter, to know the nervousness that electrically dances throughout my body.
It may sound contradictory, but I also feel peaceful even though I have the anxiety/nervousness. The fluttering is at one layer in my body, the peace is at the core. Now to only integrate the two!
I was thinking I'd be clever and write today's good-bye from the voice of my soon-to-be-history rectum. Here's what I imagine it would say:
It's awfully dark down here. Thank you for not living with your head stuck in me, though there were a few times you did insert it! I'm sorry we have to part! Farewell (makes rude farting sound)!
As a recognized Diverging learning-stylist (this is from the Kolb learning styles pertaining to my oral exam) I see the connections between things. Sometimes I understand why I see the connections I see; other times I am left hanging. But there's a connection that keeps coming back for me and it's the hanging kind. What I'm connecting is that my MIL has had a temporary ostomy as well, so we have this shared experience of being temporary ostomates. Only we haven't really explored this shared experience and it's currently doubtful that we will.
I think, what are the odds that I'd meet a wonderful guy like Pooky, then to find out that his mom also once had a ostomy? She had hers for a different reason, but had one just the same. I wonder if we have the same pattern of scarring on our abdomens? I wonder what Edgar Cayce would say about it if he were alive to do a reading for us if there is a karmic or past life connection? He says that there aren't any coincidences in the people in our lives. It somehow all gets back to previous incarnations, working out karma, learning and growing as a spiritual being.
I can hear the voice of LIOS in my head asking me: Well, Lori, so what that your MIL has had an ostomy. What does that mean to you and how do you feel about that? What it means to me is that I think we should be connected to each other, that we could help each out in that part about learning and growing as spiritual beings, and if there is karma to work out, include that too! How do I feel about it? I'm in awe, really, at the apparent "coincidence" because it seems to me statistically rare that I'd know someone part of my larger family circle who was an ostomate.
How many people do I personally know who have had this? Just her! I know I don't travel in big social circles, but I do meet people and so far I've not bumped into anyone else. (I'm not counting my brief interactions on the J-pouch discussion board because everyone there is either a pouch person or ostomate. I'm talking about "real life".)
Sometime soon I plan on taking pictures of my body before it is altered. Sorry to disappoint you all, but none of you will be receiving the "Kiss My Ass Good-Bye" photocard of my anus as I don't have the funds to have them printed up. (Just kidding!) I do think I should have a few parting shots of my undercarriage just so that ever-so-often when my memory fades of how I once looked I can pull out the pic and remind myself how my tummy looked without the stoma, and yes, I may even want to remind myself how my butt looked.
I bought a fancy liquid vitamin for me to take while in the hospital. There are a few odds and ends I need to buy, nothing extravagant, but the suddenness of the surgery caught Pooky and I at one of our most penniless moments. Weighing the pros and cons, the liquid vitamin is worth every penny if it helps me heal faster. They don't automatically give you nutrition or vitamins in the IV bag, not even if I request them. I had one surgeon say to me that given me IV nutrition/vitamins was a waste because no medical study had shown it to make a difference. If the government says we need 1500-2000 Calories a day, plus the recommended allowance of vitamins and minerals, it would stand to reason that in a healing state the body requires even more to carry out repairs. But for him the standard saline solution was sufficient. He was a real prick of a surgeon to say the least. Rotten bedside manner.
Now Dr. S on the other hand has so far proven to be a jewel. If I had known him from the beginning I wouldn't have become jaded by surgeons. Surgeons are a strange animal. Anyone who can cut into another person and still eat meat amazes me. My belief is that inside of every surgeon is a twinge of Hannibal Lecter, kept tightly in check. (My theory is based upon my one quarter of human anatomy dissection in naturopathic school and seeing what the body looks like underneath our skin.)
Today feels like a hurry up and wait kind of day. I discussed with Pooky where I might have my "last supper" before switching to the liquid diet on Monday. I'm not really craving anything in particular, but would like to feel full after eating. I need to find a greasy, down-home tasty barbecue joint that has AYCE rib night. My luck I'll find such a place and the AYCE night is on Tuesdays. That won't help me. We figure my last supper will have to be tomorrow night since Pooky works Sunday night and will be adding on Monday night so he can take Tuesday and Wednesday nights off.
Normally I turn to steak or beef for a final meal, but that doesn't have its usual appeal for me. I also am thinking the more I eat, the more I eventually have to poop out. What I'd really like to do is fly back to Pennsylvania and eat msyelf silly with all of the favorite foods that we regularly enjoyed. The pizza there and in New Jersey was REAL pizza. The Chinese food back there was far better than what we can get here, though we do have Thai food which almost makes up for it. Up in Buttzville, NJ, is a little roadside place called Hot Dog Johnny's and I'd do anything to get a pair of dogs with a glass of buttermilk or birch beer!
I've got more pics of the kittens. I made a gallery of the ones that turned out the best. Click this link to go see them!
Pooky decided it was best to bring them in the house and care for them since efforts to incite the momma cat didn't work out. He looked at a kitten rescue website that said if they have fleas to give them a bath and try to remove as many as possible because it is detrimental to their health. So this afternoon we bathed them using a mild soap and the gentle setting on the hair dryer to get them all fluffy. We got some fleas off of them, but more keep turning up. The poor babes were really infested and unless we can catch the mom and flea-dip her, it wouldn't be wise to recontaminate the babies.
Pooky went to the vet for some kitten milk replacement and we've gotten them to drink almost a full bottle among the three of them. I've gotten them to pee for me three times, but I'm concerned about the white one not peeing. No pooping has yet occurred and I shall try in earnest to get their bowels to move prior to going to bed.
Mr. Doo is not very happy with the situation. He looks at them and hisses and growls and howls at us, but I think he is putting on a show of concern for his placement in our hearts. Mr. B has looked at the kittens and runs away in fear.
Tonight I'll put their box next to the bed so I can hear them. I've got my heated blanket in the box and have it turned on for them so they can be warmed. They sleep all huddled in one morphed body with three heads. They are so sweet. You just know it's going to be difficult to part with them when they are old enough. Pooky has already attached himself to the Luck Dragon and I'm a bit smitten with the mustached one. All of them are so adorable!
Last night I stuck one of the wafer onto my lower right quadrant to see where I'd like to be wearing it for the rest of my days as an ostomate. I found the perfect location for it and then proceeded to wear it for the next 24 hours. Even though the packaging said the wafer expired, it still worked great and stuck like a barnacle. I can use them, that's for sure!
A few butterflies are hatching in my stomach as the time gets nearer to the surgery. I downloaded a few different version of an advanced directive and power of attorney and filled them out. As I told Pooky, if something goes wrong, I don't want some fundamentalist Republican turning me into their political statement, even though he knows that I don't want to be kept alive if I were to be in a vegetative state. I think I was creeping him out a bit, but I believe in the CYA philosophy of life.
Simply put, If I know who I am, can communicate, know who he is, don't pull the plug. If I have no clue, I don't want to be around.
Then just when I think life has gotten mundane (like having surgery in 6 days is routine—but since I've been through this operation twice before it feels routine) an interesting twist is thrown into the mix. Finding the kittens this morning feels life affirming. That even in the midst of impending loss, there is something gained. The three kittens has kept my mind off the upcoming pain that I will have to face.
Over lunch or dinner I was beseeching Pooky to be my coach to get me to get out of bed and do the breathing exercises when I'm post-op. The faster you get out of bed, the quicker you go home. I asked him to not make me laugh. Generally I believe laughter is the best medicine, but not when you have an abdominal incision. He said I'm immune to incentives and said that I'd have to find my own inspiration. He's right, and I hate it when he's right! He knows me all to well!
I was in a silly mood about the surgery yesterday and was asking Pooky if he'd draw on my body so when the surgeon goes to cut me, he'd find these little goofy messages. Pooky said he wouldn't oblige me. I think it would be so funny if around my nipples there would be a pair of eyes above the nipple and then a broad smile beneath it. Somewhere I'd like to have written: THIS END UP, but don't know where it would be funniest to place it.
Then this evening as I pondered my future stoma, what gives me the butterflies is knowing that this is an undoable thing. I felt that way initially with the removal of my colon. There's no going back. I asked myself when else have I felt this way, and the answer was in relation to having kids. Once you have them, you can't return them. There's no going back.
And that's where today's good-bye has travelled. A little bit of everywhere and no going back—there is only going ahead.
This morning when I went down into the dungeon (aka basement) to deal with the laundry and turn off the heat, I heard these little squeaking sounds. At first I thought: "Birds? Mice? No, that's kitty sounds!" I then located the sounds outside the basement. Outside one of the windows were some feline babies!
Outside of said window we've let some vines take over and there is a pile of tree limbs and yard waste. The momma kitty decided that this was the prime spot for her kitten nest. The babies must have just started to move about and cry. There is a third kitten not pictured. Pooky had to rescue the third one because it had gotten itself tangled up in the branches and vines.
The momma kitty creeps around the yard, so it explains why we've been seeing a lot of her! Last night she was on the front porch just looking around. Pooky decided to put the kittens in a box with a blanket and have them inside the basement, just beneath the window. We've left the window open for the momma to come inside (he set up some boxes for her to jump around on) and set out some food and water for her. Hopefully she will accept her accommodations and continue to care for her babies.
We figure the babies are about 4 weeks old, they still need another cuople of weeks of care from her before they are ready to face the world on their own. The question came up can we have three more cats to care for? The answer is no—having even one more right now would be pushing it. I hate to turn them over to the animal shelter, but that may be our best bet. I don't want to give them away to strangers.
I'd like to think that this is further proof of our house being a Shrone House. There is something about this place that is a real cat-magnet. I've seen the momma cat in the neighborhood since we moved in and I think she once belonged to tenants in the apartment house behind us, but since that place has people coming and going, I think she got left behind awhile back.
Now that she has entered Shronedom with her brood of three, she'll be taken care of. (BTW, Mr. Doo is not very pleased with the presence of kittens. I think he fears the competition for cuteness.)
Back in January when I was gearing up for the prospect of life with an ostomy bag, my mom said she found a drawer full of old ostomy supplies dating all the way back to my first ileostomy in 1990. She gave them to me saying they looked brand-new. They do look perfect in their little sealed packing, but I wonder if they are good enough to use since they have an expiration date printed all over them? All I can do is try them out and see. It's not like food that obviously goes bad.
What is amazing to me is how ostomy bags have improved since 1995 when I last went shopping for designer bags. The stoma nurse showed me a new two-piece system that no longer has a plastic ring that snaps the bag to the wafer. It's this thin adhesive that sticks together. I don't know if I could trust that adhesive to hold on my bag—it looks flimsy and prone to unsticking itself at the wrong time. Apparently other ostomates doubt its ability to withstand a full bag as she said it isn't very popular. It is very thin and flat and is better at concealing itself underneath clothing.
But ever better than that is that there are new Velcro closures at the tail of the bag. Normally an ostomate uses either a closed bag or an open-ended bag, and if you use an open-ended bag you close it up with a tail-piece. Think of a twist-tie holding a bag closed, only it's a lot better than a twist-tie. The tail-piece is a hard piece of plastic that is not easily concealed underneath clothing and is prone to catching on clothing. A Velcro closure makes everything nice and smooth and is totally reliable for holding itself together. I've had a few tail-pieces worm their way loose. Not pleasant. And the tail-piece can become "dirtied". The Velcro system appears to be immune to soiling when you empty the bag. Thus, high-technology has found its way to ostomy appliances!
I'll probably still buy a tail-piece because I have a bunch of bags from that old stash of supplies my mom found. The only thing is, stomas have different sizes and whether or not I can use the old stuff will depend upon the size my stoma decides to settle on. Initially it will be swollen and then it gradually reduces down to its final shape. That takes about a month.
Buying ostomy supplies and appliances is like shopping for underwear or bras. You'd think that all appliances are alike and that totally isn't the case. I hate one-piece systems and will only use ConvaTec products. When I had my first stoma there was a type of wafer I enjoyed using but found it didn't work at all for me with the second stoma so I switched to a different style of wafer for the second one. Now with my third I'll have to try out different wafers for that perfect fit. It's comparable to liking binki underwear then hating it and then moving onto briefs.
Ostomy appliances cost more than underwear. About $30-$70 a box for the wafers (for a box of 10) and about $25 for a box of 10 bags. Paste, powder, deodorant, adhesive removers, tape, and miscellaneous is extra. If I use a long-term wafer I can go up to two weeks without changing the set-up granted I get a good seal on it. Typically I would change it every 7-10 days just to feel "fresh".
I've decided to be a little ceremonial, sentimental, thoughtful, and meaningful. In 7 days I won't have my rectum anymore and my bathroom habits will be forever changed. Over the next 7 days I plan to have an entry per day to say good-bye to my behind. I may be serious, I may be silly. All will depend on the mood I'm in at the time.
Today's Good-Bye: Day 7
It was 10 years ago, June 4th or 5th of 1995, that I was last cut open from stem to stern for a pouch revision. I awoke with my second temporary ileostomy (the surgeon said it was a 50-50 that I could have a second one). At that time I recall saying to myself that there was no way on earth I'd ever have a permanent ileostomy because I felt there was a psychological need to defecate anally.I think that need to defecate anally was triggered by the fact my rectum was still intact and the nerves were all in place. Will I have phantom rectal sensations after the surgery? It could be possible as anything is possible when it comes to the body. I had phantom stoma sensations around the stoma site for about a year off and on.
What amazes me is how I've gone from heels dug deep in the mud stance of "permanent ileostomy: NEVER!" to "I can't wait to close up shop!" A decade of time does make a difference; all of the experiences with rectal dilitations, abscesses, pain, medications, and never really having my health under control. Pain is a great motivator for change. The pain of the ulcerative colitis in my gut was the impetus for me to have surgery. I have a need to have life without pain. It saddens me a bit that in order to be alleviated from the pain I have to exchange it for a body part. First my colon, then my rectum. A loss for a gain.
In one week I'll say good-bye to reading on the toilet and hence forth carry with me an ostomy supply bag and keep a change of clothing in the trunk of the car. I may have to buy some new clothing to accommodate the ostomy bag, but I'll wait and see. Everyone tells me I can wear regular form-fitting clothes.
I wonder how long I'll be out of commission for sex? There is going to be a lot of work done down below and on my gut. I don't like going more than a week without conjugal entertainment—even the non-coital alternatives may not be appealing. The last time I had this operation done I wasn't sexually active. I have no prior experience to draw upon.
As a systems thinker in training I've noticed a pattern in my surgeries. My first was in 1990, then in 1995, and now in 2005. I don't think there is any hidden numerological connection—but it is intriguing that the years work out to be five and ten respectively.
Just Because from Ro
Ro sent me a "just because" box filled with Chococat goodies! In the Sanrio world of Hello Kitty and friends, Chococat is my favorite little beastie. Ro was wonderfully thoughtful finding these treasures to bestow upon me. As she so wisely suggested, the pencil case can be used for crochet hooks, which is what I shall do! Ro's thoughtfulness made me feel so special that I am still beaming with a warm glow of glowing warmness.
From My NotSoSecret Secret Pal
My NotSoSecret Secret Pal sent me word that I should expect something from Amazon.com this week. It arrived yesterday. Inside were two books from the TV show "Family Guy". I was beyond thrilled to have received Stewie's Guide to World Domination!!!!! I swooned for over an hour and I could sense my Loving Husband was jealous of how I would coo over Stewie's evil plans! Suffice it to say, I am on cloud nine with these books! Thank you so much NotSoSecret Pal! You've made my life significantly better and I promise that when Stewie and I take over the world that to quoth Stewie: "your death should be quick and painless." (Just kidding—I am on a bit of a Stewie power-high and combined with liquid cold medicine, my sense of humor has turned to the dark side)
I've decided to create a special award to bestow upon those special people who come into my life that have evidenced that they are like me, Unknowable Shrones!
Hello Trish, As a special birthday gift to you I'm pleased to inform you that you possess many of the salient characteristics of a Shrone! Please stick this nifty button somewhere on your blog to proudly display your Shrone status! Here are the reasons why you are a Shrone:1. You crochet with thread and make doilies.
2. You own a cat.
3. You aren't afraid to tell it like it is.
4. You are creative, crafty, wise, and possibly unknowable.
5. Something about you says when you get old and withered, you just might go out crusing for penis!
6. You recognize your inner Princess and proudly celebrate it (this could lead to the wearing of turbans in public).
7. You're generous and kind.
8. You're a kindred spirit.
9. You're one groovy chick and I think you are super cool!
10. Despite all you've been through, you haven't killed your inner child.Yours in Shronedom!
Lori
Trish's Shrone Award was presented to her especially on her birthday because it seemed like the shrone thing to do!
I was tagged by Sherry to participate in this little bit of fun. (Thanks, BTW!)
Pick 5 of the following and then complete the sentences. Then pass it on to 3 more of your blog friends! But no tag backs!
The Premise (pick 5):
If I could be a scientist…
If I could be a farmer…
If I could be a musician…
If I could be a doctor…
If I could be a painter…
If I could be a gardener...
If I could be a missionary…
If I could be a chef...
If I could be an architect…
If I could be a linguist…
If I could be a psychologist…
If I could be a librarian...
If I could be an athlete…
If I could be a lawyer…
If I could be an inn-keeper...
If I could be a professor…
If I could be a writer...
If I could be a llama-rider…
If I could be a bonnie pirate…
If I could be an astronaut…
If I could be a world famous blogger...
If I could be a justice on any one court in the world…
If I could be married to any current famous political figure…
Here are my five choices:
1. If I could be a bonnie pirate...then on my birthday which is Nationational Talk Like A Pirate Day, I would totally fit in and have no one think I've lost it.
2. If I could be a justice on any one court in the world...I'd would not wear anything underneath my judicial robes and I'd insist that everyone would call me Your Worship the Shrone.
3. If I could be a writer...I would write using a pseudonym and keep my true identity a secret and only reveal who I am to only those very, very close to me.
4. If I could be a scientist...I'd find a way to incoporate chloroplasts into our skin so we could photosynthesize while sunbathing and thus make our own food and thus end world hunger.
5. If I could be an astronaut...I'd stow Pooky into space with me so we could experiment with having sex in zero gravity. (Naughty laugh)
The Keys to Your Heart |
| You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free. |
| In love, you feel the most alive when things are straight-forward, and you're told that you're loved. |
| You'd like to your lover to think you are stylish and alluring. |
| You would be forced to break up with someone who was ruthless, cold-blooded, and sarcastic. |
| Your ideal relationship is open. Both of you can talk about everything... no secrets. |
| Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. |
| You think of marriage something you've always wanted... though you haven't really thought about it. |
| In this moment, you think of love as something you can get or discard anytime. You're feeling self centered. |
For months, no YEARS! I've been waiting for the return of Family Guy to Fox. Last Sunday was the debut of a brand-new episode. Can you believe I didn't know this important information and I just happened to be channeling surfing at 9:15 and landed on it by fate? At least I got to see half of the episode and now have to set my VCR so I won't miss anymore shows.
Confession time: I head over heels in love with Baby Stewie! Yes, I know he is gay. Yes, I know he is one year old. Yes, I know he is pure evil. But he is a shrane! The youngest shrane there is!
I just stopped by the Family Guy merchandise website and there is plenty of Baby Stewie plush toys, action figures, T-shirts and what-have-you. I downloaded a wallpaper of Stewie so his image now graces my computer screen.
It was this line of Stewie's that totally won my heart over because I, too, dislike pickles:
Stewie Griffin: [to ticket agent] Now listen to me...
[looks at agent's name tag]
Stewie Griffin: Jo-LENE. I've got an army to raise and I must get to Nicaragua. I require a window seat and an in-flight Happy Meal AND NO PICKLES. OH, GOD HELP YOU IF I FIND PICKLES.
You'll know what I'll be doing Sunday nights at 9pm!
I point my shrone finger at Ro! She posted about lightsaber spoons free inside specially marked boxes of frosted flakes. My inner child said: Yep, gotta get me one of those because (a) it's in a cereal box; (b) it's just so awfully tacky that I MUST have one; (c) we were out of frosted flakes; and (d) Yoda was featured on the front of the box.
As we cruised the aisles at Wal-Mart (I swear I wasn't cruising for penis!) I noticed how much Star Wars promotional crap has infested boxed foods! A brightly-hued graphic on a Pop Tart box informed me that I should listen for Darth Vader within the box. Maybe that's what it said—I found it perplexing that Darth would be lurking inside the box let alone making sounds.
I think Star Wars has also infested within Cheez-Its, Frito Lay products, and of course, Kellog's cereals. I didn't see Yoda, Darth, Obiwan, or Mace Windu's images on toilet paper products, feminine napkins or condoms. If Star Wars were be found in the contraceptive aisle I wonder how the marketing tie-in would work? I'll let your imagination run wild with that.
As we journeyed from one end of Wal-Mart to the other we passed through the toys and I saw the new SW action figures. They had Yoda and the Emperor, my two favorite characters! Why, you might wonder? They are both old, withered, and moldy green! I find them both irresistable in a shrone-ish way that only I understand. Sadly, I didn't have the spare $5.88 per action figure to indulge my moldly, green skin lust needs. If I had them I'd play with them using my tacky new lightsaber spoons acting out bizarre melodramas at the dining room table.
The Anakin action figure looks like a weirdo version of "if David Bowie and Marilyn Manson mated and had a child" as they over did the eye make-up on him. It made me wonder what the toy designers were thinking...
I should confess that I took some flamingo pink pills about 30 minutes ago (aka Darvocets) and I have a hacking cough that is burning my lungs. I was running a low fever previously. I can feel something unpleasant in my throat and have a germy taste in my mouth. Whatever is happening to me, be it an infection or the effects of mild painkillers, I'm in a peculiar mood.
Presenting...Hall of Shrones First Shrane Award
Top ten reasons why my husband "Jack" is a Shrane, by Ro.
1. He has the same unknowable air and handsome mystique as other Shranes such as Harrison Ford and Sean Connery as well as Shrobot Crow T. Robot; unknowableness and sexiness that only improves with age, damn him.
2. He has many, many nicknames, and his given name is known only to a select, chosen few.
3. He makes friends, and also mates carefully, and for life.
4. He actually enjoys living and sharing his life with a Bona Fide Shrone.
5. He not only can tell you the difference between Vulcan, Bajoran, and Romulan religious practices, he knows that when Ferengi die they hope to go to the Divine Treasury, to be met by the Great Exchequer, while Klingons hope to die in battle for quick entrance into StoVoKor.
6. He is a Red Sox Fan; and carries all baggage that comes with.
7. He would be happy to live on a desert island forever without contact with any other humans besides his wife and kid if he had DSL, MLB Cable, and could get Chinese Food drop shipped onto the island every week. Other than that, he really doesn't need human contact and loathes going out into public unless absolutely necessary.
8. He names things around the house that otherwise normal people would not usually name.
9. He has a deep, soul level connection with his cat, and the cat with him.
10. And finally, he possesses the uncanny ability to size people up, whether or not their intentions are for good or ill before they even know he's in the room, a truly Shrane like ability.
You're a slightly tarnished metal key, and you
unlock the wardrobe. At first glance, you seem
to present only simple, everyday things, but
anyone who looks deeper will find much more.
Just don't expect everyone to believe in you,
and those who don't may not grasp your worth.
What sort of key are you and what do you unlock?
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This Patricia Kristoffersen doily is called "Donna". It swirls very nicely. I still feel that my spirals need some work as they don't look like the picture in the pattern booklet.
I've found that her doilies don't take any longer to make compared to other patterns. I began this one last week prior to going off to module and had gotten two rounds past the spirals when I left. The rest I finished up since Sunday.
I'll be starting yet another doily from this book. I just love the patterns so much, and I'm in a doily mood.
I went ahead and ordered the Victorian Spirals book from Patricia's website. I also got the Ultimate Doilies book. The remaining books I'd like to have I added to my RAOK Wishlist.
My throat doesn't feel right. I don't feel right. Shit! I hope this isn't going to become a cold. I don't need one right now. Not with Mini-Mod coming up this weekend. It's a long, nasty weekend of class for 12 hours on Saturday.
I finished another doily. It's drying and blocking as I type. Tomorrow I'll be able to take pictures of it. It's still "practice" for me. I have gotten my spirals more uniform, but still they don't look like the ones in the pattern book. It's my Virgo perfectionism seeping out.
It feels like I could lose my voice at any time. I am not a happy camper about this! Getting a cold this time of year sucks!
Tonight the air outside smelled of plant sex. The fragrances were heady and transcendent. I'm finding I'm not immune to the magic of the season and find myself falling in love and lust for Pooky. It sucks that he works nights.
Yeah, Baby!
While at module I had the opportunity to explain what a shrone is as well as shranes. It came up in dialogue that Austin Powers, International Man of Mystery fits the description of being a shrane. He wears flamboyant clothing, has a saucy-sexy mojo about him, and his air of mystery makes him truly unknowable!
I'm surprised I didn't think of Austin on my own!
At school I've indentified 6 new shrones to present official laminated cards to. Four of the new shrones will be graduating so I'll need to present their official shroness at the next module. Hopefully I can get some pictures for the Hall of Shrones famedom.
It will only be a matter of time before there are enough shrones to hold our first shrone convention!
Also it was determined that people who are close to being shrones but aren't exactly shrones are Friends of Shrones and Shranes, or F.O.S.S.
