July 2005 Archives

How You Live Your Life

You seem to be straight forward, but you keep a lot inside. (This is so true) You are always tactful and diplomatic. You let people down gently. (I don't believe in being rude) You prefer a variety of friends and tend to change friends quickly. (This is due to my Chinese sign of the Rat) You have one big dream in your life, and you never lose sight of it. (So true. I've been pursuing this dream for 15 years)

When enough Shrones have been deemed guess where we'll gather for our first-ever annual convention? I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count.

Did you say Shrone, Ireland?

I always knew there was a reason I needed to go to Ireland. Pooky always knew there was a reason he needed to get his Irish citizenship.

While searching for more information about Shrone I found this:

The course of the Blackwater Way currently ends above Shrone, at the mysterious stonework site known as The City in the shadow of The Paps.

That names of that "mysterious stonework site" sounds very Shrone if you ask me! I get the feeling that the town of Shrone isn't very big. There is a map of the town circa 1840 for a cool $40.

And at long last we know what a shrone really is! This site says:

Shrone; sron, a nose, a pointed hill.

We are no longer "unknowable" Shrones! We are noses and pointed hills! But wait, there's more! Here is this poem that explains it all:

Legend has it that the Goddess Anu's breasts became the 'Paps of Shrone'
And that through the centuries to peaks they've grown
Till they stood proudly on the higher ground
And grew to be the tallest peaks around.

So now we know what that "mysterious stonework site" is! A pair of Irish breasts indeed! Well, I'm off to kiss a leprechaun (I wish!) and snuggle in because tomorrow I've got that exam.

Dear April,
I'm pleased to inform you that you have been selected as a esteemed recipient of The Bona Fide Shrone Award! I waited to give you this award on your birthday as a special gift. I've determined that you possess many of the salient characteristics of a Shrone! Here are the reasons why you are a Shrone:

1. You've been a life-long friend and I'm glad we reconnected after all those years.
2. You were one of the only people in high school who didn't think I as weird in a bad way.
3. You have a kind and generous heart.
4. You've got a style all your own that I've always admired.
5. Something about you says when you get old and withered, you just might go out crusing for penis!
6. You are unknowable.
7. You have a curiousity about spiritual and paranormal things.
8. You are one of a handful of people whom I think has the right to call themselves a Christian as I think you really do follow The Way.
9. You're one groovy chick and I think you are super cool!
10. You haven't killed your inner child and you freely allow it out to play.

Yours in Shronedom!
Lori

* * * Be sure to stop by and wish April a happy birthday today as well as congratulating her on her Shrone status!* * *

Update

Wow! Responses have been great! I've got 7 requests for readings! I'm totally thrilled that so many want to consult the orbs! Trust me, you're gonna be glad you did!

I'm going to set up a special webpage showing the orbs with their descriptions and have a link to the request form, but that may take a day or two.

Be sure to tell your friends to stop by and get their free "entertainment purposes only" reading!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Because I am avoiding what I really should be doing...And because I am such a ham...And because I am avoiding what I really should be doing...

Readings of The Orbs of Unknowable Wisdom are NOW AVAILABLE to you!
Just a mouse click will redirect you to a nifty form in which you can request a reading.

A link to this form will be posted on my site in case you want to consult the Orbs more than once.

Just a few days ago I was swooing about how nice it is now to sleep through the night without having to go to the bathroom 3 or 4 times. I am still enjoying this immensely, but this morning...I kind of wish I had some alarm system to indicate that my bag has sprung a leak!

What happens is during the night the gas pressure builds up in the bag and the seal breaks so I leak from the wafer. It's not that bad; I don't wake in a fecal lake. So far everything has stayed in the bag and it is more like a seep than a leak. Nonetheless I awoke with seepage and had to quickly change the wafer and bag and grabbed a shower to make sure I was totally cleaned up.

Now here's a bit of an anatomy lesson. The stoma almost incessantly dribbles, but there are periods where nothing comes out. In time I will learn when my stoma is more active versus less active, read: poo coming out versus not. Well this morning it was an active time and changing the bag during an active moment is not how I had wanted to start my day off. It quickly becomes messy.

Yet, despite the soiled towels and clothing, I have to sing praise because I don't have rectal pain, I can sleep 10 hours without waking up, and I no longer take antibiotics! *dance of joy*

I've studied Tarot and have a handful of favorite decks. You might say that I am intrigued by Jungian philosophy, symbolism, archetypes, the subconscious mind, and all of that stuff that is related.

Don't ask me why I thought that the eyeballs inside of the ostomy bag Regina mde me sparked me to think of them as tools of divination. It's part of the "mystery" and such things are ineffable. I suppose it has something to do with the fact that I think my ostomy is my seat of wisdom. I call my stoma Ian-Sophia. There's a lifetime of wisdom behind that clam-necked stoma; I'm rather proud of it.

So without further delay I shall explain my system of "reading the eyeballs" and all of that neat stuff.

First, like a Tarot reading, there is placement and symbology behind that placement, of three eyeballs randomly selected. They are left eye, right eye, and third eye. The left eye symbolizes the feminine, the darkness, the yin, what you get when you wish for something, and all things unknowable, The Shrone. The right side is the masculine, the yang, the lightness, the thing that you wish for, and all things known, The Shrane. The third eye symbolizes the mystery, the transcendance, and grace.

I have five eyeballs and have given them names and meanings.

The Critical Eye

This eye is your mother's voice telling you what to do, when you least want to hear it; judgement; impatience; snappy; distorted perception of reality; pointing fingers to blame; narrow-mindedness; lack of humor; egotism; toxic relationships; poor communication; unpleasant illnesses; restlessness; foul, bitchy moods; trouble-making; gossipping; attention-seeking; unhealthy self-love; fear of things unknown or uncertain; rigidity; need for structure; the mundane; never really satisfied with what you have.

The Appreciative Eye

Open mindedness; wit and wisdom; willingness to say you're sorry and admit being wrong; celebrating your inner child; creative expression; cleverness; fluidity and harmony with your environment; desire to change; commitment; heightened awareness; healthy self-love; integration of emotion and action: practicing what you preach; compassion; random acts of kindness; potential.

Bedroom Eye

Saucy and sexy; your inner exhibitionist; having no shame; letting it all hang out and being mighty proud; flamboyant; lust and desire; sexuality; vitality; Nature and Goddess worship; the Tantra; sacredness of sex; spiritual connection to others and all things; playfulness; mischievousness and impishness; romping; creativity; dreams and dreaming; insight; seduction; alluring; enchantment; mojo and mystical powers; the unknowable; hot, spicy foods; chocolate; thunderstorms; sultry; southern drawls

The Red Eye

Incessant crying; overly tired; midnight flights across country; a type of gravy; being stoned out of your mind; allergies; smoke and haze; crankiness and irritability; exhaustion; at your wit's end; perseverance; fortitude; against all odds; darkness; hitting bottom; impending rebirth; fighting tooth and nail; resilience; metamorphosis; sudden change; having faith that things will work out as they are meant to; growth and change; acceptance; the need for comforting, comfort foods; memories of childhood; letting go; anxiety; self-medication

The Evil Eye

All-knowing and all-seeing; dark wisdom; intensity of personal energy; charisma; hypnotic ability; leadership; that bad smell that never goes away; duality; cleverness; neccesity being the mother of invention; discernment; not being caught off guard; keen senses and awareness; having to do the difficult thing; being able to say no and disappoint others; living peacefully though having fear, shame, or guilt; staring down a cat and winning; staring blankly for no apparent reason; food that is burnt; wishing someone dead; your worst enemy; broken dreams, confidences, or trusts; not getting any mail; housework; karma coming down hard on your ass; random acts of kindness; wicked, naughty laughs

Found via Crochet Chronicles (Cindy), via Dawn at Wild Yarn.

Name three things you can't live without. Pooky, Mr. Doo, and sleep.
What fictional character would you like to hang out with? Anne Shirley from Anne of Green Gables, and what the heck, Harry Potter.
What are you most afraid of? Having to pay back my student loans!
What song always makes you cry? Meditation by Thais
What makes you laugh harder than anything? The cats.
What would you choose to come back as in your next life? If not a cat, then a stripper. (Seriously, they make good money!)
What is the best advice you were given by yourself or someone else? Always check for toilet paper.
What still surprises you? The compassion and kindness that ordinary people convey to one another.
What quality can make you instantly connect with someone? Spirituality.
What turns you off right away? Narrow-mindedness.
If you could read the works of only one person, who would that be? Mary Summer Rain
What's really difficult for you? Meeting myself.
What do you wish you had done differently? Go to school to become a therapist much sooner.
Where do you do your most creative thinking? Just before I fall asleep.
What motivates to many of you actions? The desire to fulfill my purpose in life.
What do you want done with your body when you die? Cremation
Psychic or Shrink? Both!
Vintage or modern? Vintage (especially Victorian)
Cat or Dog? Both are fine, but prefer cats
What is your mantra? Never give up.

Well, back in high school during my freshman year. I wrote poems every day I was in algebra. Something about that subject just made the poems come out all the more. Then my poetic well-spring dried up just as quickly as it arrived. But Ro's post via Regina made me feel a little poemsy, so here goes. It's not the best.

I am from Hormel Spam, discontinued bags of Nalley's Cheez Pleezers, and cans of zesty Fresca.

I am from Casa Incantata, the midnight pearl swirling in the madness of King George. On good days I am from Genki Maison like a pearl in the shell.

I am from the snap dragon via a dried lavender bud, speckled with spots of mildew I can never clean out of the shower. Like that creepy evil vine in the yard wrapping itself around the rose bush that smells like raspberries, I will encroach where I am not wanted but seem to need to be.

I am from abandonment and cut-off, the silent treatment, the guilt-trip from Luella Mae station, cankles upon thunder thighs while Lydia gazes from the wall with a Mona Lisa smile, her eyes stare ahead like she could cry because she rests almost forgotten at Lake Pleasant; Fredda's chin dimple and taste for finer things to make up for what she didn't have in a husband or son; oh, how I am so glad never to have known the sharp blows of grandpa Schmitt's temper for I would have been the kind to strike back like the trollop he feared his daughter was!

I am from the line of conservative millionaires who like to live like hermits and pretend they have less money than a street beggar carrying a sign, and would rather let the taxpayer take care of their family responsibility all the while bemoaning how awful it is that there is welfare.

From the moment mother said she deliberately wanted to get pregnant to have you until the time she accused you of the fact that she would lose her job and house because of you being sick, you just knew you had come into the right family, where you definitely belonged. It was like sidling up to the bar at Cheers.

I am from an ancient reverie of noticing the smells of Mother Nature seasoned with mysitc Gnostics mysteries clapping to one hand of befuddled Zen koans.

I'm from a place in Sweden and old Teutonic lands, just outside the great volcanoes of the Cascades; I know that you will never find lion turds in the zoo, and spicy cookies are really pepparkakor.

From the time your sister got her ass stung by a bee at a rest stop to the time your father came home drunk New Year's Eve, stripped naked and hid between the coffee table and couch, meowing incessantly, just before you had your first hospitalization in which you didn't let the surprise visit by the nun scare you, something inside of you knew your life someday would make a great memoire, if not blog.

I am from shrine of your older brother's bedroom that your mother made of it when he went off to West Point, and how she quickly filled your own old room with piles of her excess crap like you never lived there, stuffed away like all of her other things crammed in her cedar chest where she can pretend you never existed until she lifts the lid on that Pandora's Box and finds out the treasure she's missed.

The Picture That Started It All

Cats are naturally photogenic. It's in their genetic make-up. I think now that they have started cloning cats (and hence I'm sure they are mapping their genome) they will find the gene that makes their breath stink, causes them to meow for no reason at dawn, and what makes them so freakin' adorable.

The kittens have taken over this couch from the big cats. Being they are small they slip into the crevices easier. I come up stairs and see Teddy in this most too-cute-for-words pose as he sleeps. Out comes the camera! Can't let something that adorable slip past my digital pixels without recording it.

Then as I filmed he changed his pose to something else:

He appears to be doing the highland fling or the monkey. By now my photographing has awoken the little darlings from their afternoon slumbering. They begin to stir and this allows me to capture more of their insane cuteness. (The big cats weren't around for them to get jealous so I snuck extra pictures of the babies).

Little Smee always has this look about him like a movie star who doesn't want to be photographed. This of course makes him all the more reason to take his picture. He has amazing blue eyes. I've always wanted a blue-eyed kitty (next to having a Siamese). Little Smee has been barfing too much and I think the tuna is too much for him. I'm going to have to not let the boat come into harbor as much as it has and this will upset Mr. Doo.

Stash, whom I call Stash-A-Ma-Tazz, is my little neck warmer and all around little guy. He pounces on me with crash landings and then goes straight to nuzzle my neck. I lament that his head is too small for proper kissing. His head fits into the palm of my hand which leaves no real ear space for nuzzling and kissing on my part. I long for his head to get bigger. Stash purrs very loudly and often.

I do have pictures of the big boys. Mr. B actually let me capture his blackness the other day. He is hard to photograph because he always comes out as this black blob without eyes. It is his mystery to not render photographically very well, but when he does, he casts a nice image.

I've been looking at ostomy underwear and found that while there are undies to tuck in the pouch in a separate compartment, ostomates say that the underwear is like "Briget Jones" knickers. Being that I go sporty unless I'm having my period, the idea of undies doesn't go over well. I found something called a pouch pocket for $15 that holds the pouch in place by using a band around the thigh.

Now, I don't having a sewing machine, but I do have a brain and the ability to glue. For those of you out there who do sew or try to sew, do you think it would be feasible for me to take some wide elastic and glue onto it pieces of Velcro and make my own "pouch pocket" for the thigh attachment? Here is what I could get for $15. It looks like they put the bag in a sack and anchor the sack. I'm wondering how easy it would be to release the bag?

My thought is to have a flap that holds the pouch at the tail (losely so it won't put pressure on the pouch) and Velcro it over. I'm just wondering if I can pull this all off with using fabric glues? I can't hand sew at all---just enough to do sweater seams and even then it's questionable.

If I really wanted to have pouch fashion I can get a pouch cover and use my idea.

Advice, recommendations, etc. would be appreciated and helpful if you have sewing and or fabric skills. I'd like to know if fabric glue would hold up or if I'm going to have to sew. Thanks!

I had a follow-up appointment with the surgeon today. Being that I've gone more than a week without need of the catheter or anti-spasmodic medicine, and that my stoma has shrunk in diameter, he said I'm on the road of recovery and just need to concentrate on getting my weight back to where it was.

Yes, yesterday when I went to change my wafer I re-measured the diameter of my stoma and it has gone down to 1¼" which it was around 1½" the last time I measured it. In fact, I could have gone a little smaller but didn't want to choke the base of the stoma (which you can do) so I opted for the slightly larger opening. What this means is soon I can drop down in wafer size!

He looked at the big lump on my arm. The one that keeps throbbing and swelling that was caused by an IV site all the way back from July 4th. When he saw it he said, "Are you sure that isn't a spider bite?" and I said no, that's where an IV was. He was astounded it wasn't a spider bite, but he said, "That's going to have to be lanced." Which I wasn't surprised because it felt like it needed to be drained.

Let's just say that they inject numbing medicine in the skin sort of like they tell you that your seat is a floatation device in case of an emergency when you fly on a plane. He said that the lump had a nice puss pocket inside of it actually doing a bit subcutaneously and that the wound will remain open so it can drain and my mission is to squeeze it while in the shower to make sure all hidden puss pockets expel their goodness. Just what I needed: another scar on my body.

Why is it I get to have open flesh wounds? Why can't I have something that gets stitched? I hate looking into my own meat and have to watch it slowly and painfully heal! My second ileostomy wound was an open flesh wound and I had to deal with that. I had a rectal abcess that was also large and meaty. These are not fun things to deal with.

At least my arm feels better because the pressure has been released, but there is smarting now and an increased tenderness that is different. By tomorrow I imagine it should not hurt as much and by Saturday I'm thinking all twinges should be minimal.

Spider bite indeed!

Dr. S said I could come back in a month if necessary, but if my health is good I can skip the appointment. He was a bit concerned about my stoma sticking out so much, saying I shouldn't have prolapsing because I scarred so much, but he said to keep an eye on it. If my stoma sticks out more (he indicated the stoma can push out 6 inches!) then he might need to go and trim it back. Right now it just flops over and I can push it up and it puckers up. It's not a problem at this time, but I will be keeping watch on it. The stoma looks like a clam neck poking out. Not a happy visual because I'm not fond of clams in their natural state!

Otherwise I sleep soundly through the night! My gosh how pleasant it is to sleep solidly! This is what I wanted from the surgery: full night's sleep and no more rectal pain. I have accomplished that and more! I no longer need the antibiotics! Soon I'll be off the medications—well maybe stay on the antidepressant for a bit because that is making me feel "happy".

I figure by the end of the year I'll be where I want to be as far as stomal size, stomal output, and general stoma functioning. I will do the stoma dance of joy!

Post-Script

I was craving a pizza so much that I decided to take the risk and drive! I haven't driven since the surgery and it was WEIRD! I figured my blood level of fentanyl had to be pretty low since I hadn't put the new patch on, and I drove carefully. I did this while Pooky slept so he wouldn't give me the evil eye and say I shouldn't go. I suppose now I can drive a bit in town—definitely not up to freeway drives or long hauls, but I should be able to go do things like get my hair cut and trips to Wally World.

One of my greatest laments about being sickly the past two months is that my gardening has suffered. Despite that I've not watered, weeded, Miracle-Gro'ed and performed the Dark Arts upon my flower beds, stuff has still managed to grow and thrive. Not all of it weeds to my surprise.

The amount of lilies I planted last year is far more than what came up this year, so I think next spring I'll have to replenish what died or disappeared beneath the soil. What confounds me is how out of control in growth the bleeding heart plant is! I gave it two doses of Miracle-Gro earlier in the season and I can't believe how it became a monster. I'm going to have to prune it back this fall or else it will choke out the tulips that are around it.

Another plant out of control is the lamb's ear I planted last year. It's really consumed the space I put it in. The lavender next to the rose bush also is monster in size. I'm also stunned at the powers of the rose bush. Despite how sickly it looks it keeps flowering, though this year the blooms aren't as many because I wasn't out applying the various poisons to it each week to "cure" it of whatever it was suffering from, be it insects or mildews or whatever it has going on.

There is one problem that is apparent and that is that some evil vine has crept into the yard and is taking over. It is infested within the rose bush and is working its way around the house. It's in the back yard and seems to be taking over the rhododendron bush up front. I wonder how easy it's going to be to slay this wicked vine? Just the word vine makes me shudder more than the word weed.

The lawn is suffering because we've not been able to apply to it the various lawn enhancing chemicals it requires. The dandelions reign supreme. Perhaps they are killing off the moss that plagues the yard? I can only hope. I'm wishingfully thinking by autumn we can afford to apply some fertilizer to help it out. It has suffered so much and it was just starting to look healthy. The previous owners of this house really did nothing to the grass and it showed.

Part of me thinks about just herbiciding everything and starting over. I see the HUGE weeds growing in the flower beds and I feel weak just looking at them. I've never seen thistles the size looming in the tulip beds. I guess that is what a weed-whacker is for?

I finished the doily for the Doily Swap and will be sending it out today to my partner. I can say with confidence that I have conquered the spiral, plus feel I have earned a merit badge regarding Patricia Kristoffersen's designs! This one proved to be a real snit because I think that there were errors in the pattern on two rounds. The directions didn't match with the picture and so I went by what the picture showed. I need to check her website to see if there is anything posted about the errors, and if not, I plan on e-mailing her to find out if there are mistakes in the directions.

Now, on to something more challenging! Her Victorian Spirals Doilies Book One has some real hook-busting patterns in it and I'm ready to slay another challenging doily. Whatever I wind up creating will be entered into The Fair. I am hoping to take first place with one of her daunting designs. Yes, I do have a little competitive spirit in me after all!

P.S. In my crochet gallery I have added a new album of all of the Doilies With a Twist that I have made since acquiring the booklet. There is one pattern left in the book I haven't yet made. Soon I shall tackle it too!

After my last posting with the death warmed over pictures of myself I thought this blog needed some adorableness to cheer things up. It's been awhile since I updated about the kittens, and what better time to do that now as they have grown into small cats with distinct personalities.

Mr. Doo has finally accepted their presence, though he still has the look about him that indicates he still believes that at any day they will go away if he wishes it hard enough. He no longer hisses at them and has been known to even sleep with them on the collective cat couch.

Teddy as Nermal

Pooky thinks this kitty looks like a teddy bear more than a cat and I have to agree, though I think his overwhelming cuteness is like Nermal from Garfield. Teddy hasn't gotten past the oral stage and so he will climb on us and try to nurse—be it fingers, neck, skin. It is so annoying! We've been trying to break him of this habit.

Aside from his penchat to suck, he's pretty mellow and goes with the flow. He doesn't cause much trouble and I think his level of cuteness is stronger than his level of evil. He has a tendency to get under foot.

The Luck Dragon, Sometimes Called Little Smee

Little Smee is a saucy love bug. He has a balance of good and evil and no annoying habits. He sleeps hard and often. His purring mechanism has a feather trigger and he rumbles so loud he sounds like a threshing machine.

He enjoys nips of yogurt and has discovered the joys of the Tuna Bowl.

Stash or Formally Known as Mr. Snodgrass

At first I thought Stash would be Mr. Doo Part 2 and that we'd have to name him Mr. Deux, but his level of evil is only at 98% at best whereas Mr. Doo was 99.99999% evil for most of his first year. Stash is an extreme beggar and love bug for affection and will nest around your neck looking for prolonged petting and worship. He loves to sleep on me at night.

He's the only one with a real sized tail. His brothers have stubby tails. I think Stash will prove to be the most acrobatic and favor high spots as he is already the most curious and prone to investigation of places.

He also loves yogurt and will become annoying if I am trying to eat some in his presence.

Additional Pictures

These pictures of Mr. Doo reveal his displeasure at the presence of the kittens. He has since mellowed that I've been home long enough to administer copious amounts of worship and reassurance that he is Lord. Though this morning he returned to his displeased look because I would not let the Tuna Boat set sail and indulge him in a can. He was give tuna yesterday and he was testing my level of resolve to his charms.

Last night I felt strong enough to take a shower. It had been since Tuesday that I had the ambition to get cleaned. I had a good look in the mirror at myself. I look shot to hell, don't I? Eyes sunken in and discolored. My arms show the casulties of IV's gone bad or blown when attempted to be started. The worst is the lumpy bruise on my left arm. The knot is hard and the skin scabbed over a few days after the catheter was removed. I've never have had an IV scab over like that. I am keeping watch on the lump making sure it doesn't spread, but it doesn't hurt and it is just a hard lump.

I calculated that I've lost 15% of my pre-operative weight. The last time I weighed 115 pounds I was 16 years old or so. Let's just say my body looks like a deflated balloon. I asked Pooky if the weight loss shows. He says my legs show it the most, in the calves. I feel like a withered Mr. Burns and Pooky has become my Smithers.

I won't be on the prednisone long enough for it to work its magic of rapid weight gain, and my appetite is suppressed thanks to the variety of pharmaceuticals I am taking. Losing 20 pounds over 9 weeks is not what I had in mind. I have no idea how quickly I can recover from the loss. If my stomach continues to be happy I am sure in three months or so I can be back to my starting weight.

The surgeon said I should expect "surprises and changes and many adaptations" of my stoma and gut functioning for the next 6 months. Just in time for the holidays I should be "normal" again. I can eat just about anything at the moment, and know better to avoid raw fruits and veggies and limit the amount of cooked veggies. I am not foolish enough to eat popcorn, but it doesn't even sound good to eat, and right now I'm eating what sounds good.

It's somewhat true that your body craves what it needs. I am potassium deficient and I've been craving fresh orange juice like I'm a sailor with scurvy. Turns out orange juice is loaded with potassium. I also am thirsty for good tasting water and our tap water tastes funny to me, so I'm either going to have to invest in one of those cheap filters or get some bottled water. I've lost my taste for iced tea as it doesn't taste right anymore.

Being that I've been wearing only sweat pants and pj bottoms I have no idea how regular jeans will fit me. That should prove to be interesting when I get around to trying to dress normal. I've had no motivation to do so because the only places I've gone to are the hospital, the doctor's office, the ER, or Wal-Mart, and if you go to Wal-Mart wearing your pj's, no one really notices.

I'm debating now if I should continue to heal because it was awfully spoiling to come home and find so many boxes, cards, get well sentiments, prayers for healing, small animal sacrifices, unknowable rituals performed, and a gushing outpouring of love and support from people I didn't even know knew that I existed...But I will not slip back into that miserable state of being sick because feeling almost/near normal is just too damn pleasant. I'll just have to bask and glow over the goodies I received by my wonderful bloggy friends!

Here are the kindnesses I received:

The World's Ugliest Comfortghan

A long held fear of mine of becoming seriously ill is that people would make me a comfortghan. I hate granny squares and have only seen two really aesethetically pleasing comfortghans in my life. Let's face it: making a granny square blanket only works if you coordinate it like you were making a quilt. A random assortment of squares results in chaos. I'm a Virgo. I notice these things. They disturb my sense of harmony.

So when I told Deneen my darkest fear, I was hoping she'd get the hint to discourage the making of a comfortghan for me just in case the idea came up. True to her Virgo nature, she heard me, but she also suffers from the same twisted, sick sense of humor I possess and commissioned the ugliest squares on purpose with the intent of making me an "ugly-ghan".

Those willing participants (you know who you are and you shall be kindly rewarded some day very soon with Shrone gifts) who heeded the call made their very ugliest squares. You should all be proud of your hideousness because I am!

Infamous Nipple Square

Clown Hair and Loops Squares

Wicked Fur Square

The Complete Uglyghan

The Kindness of Strangers & Friends

Assorted Cards and Gifts Received

Friends have sent cards and gifts, and what has touched me is that people who only know me through Crochetville have send cards and little get well presents. I need to thank so many people and have been awful at keeping track of who has sent me what. Please contact me if you don't see your name listed as I do want to mention you!

Big hugs to: April, Melinda, Lynn G, Fiona, Lady Linoleum, Deneen, Ro, Kari, Jess, Stacey, Vicki, Kathi, Susan and my fellow classmates who signed the card, Natalie, Drew, Jolene, and whomever else I am forgetting.

Special Mention

Awesome Ostomy Bag

Ro's Wienermobile

Fiona's Gift

Some very special people have send me some very special things during my long dark tea-time of the soul. I commissioned Regina to make me either a stoma or ostomy bag to celebrate my new body, and I was willing to pay her up to $50 for her to create for me one of her awesome eyeballed creations. (I bet as she is reading this she is kicking herself for just making the ostomy bag out of kindness!)

I was thrilled beyond all Shrone emotion when I opened up the box and found my new crocheted creation filled with eyeballs! I have since determined that the eyeballs possess powers of divination, much like Norse runes. I have deemed them "orbs of unknowable wisdom" and will give free readings anyone in need of a little humorous fortune telling in their lives. You can post your burning questions in the comments or e-mail me if your question require discretion or privacy. I will do my best to read the orbs and pass on their unknowable wisdom!

I am not surprised that Ro managed to crochet a Wienermobile! After seeing her pirate hat and light saber I know that gal can crochet anything she sets her heart and mind to! She managed to put a smile on my face and a few tears in my eyes on a day that was very pain-filled.

My long-time pen pal and friend, Melinda, who is moving soon, sent me two adorable T-shirts from the show "Family Guy". I just love the Baby Stewie shirt! I'm gonna miss you, Melinda, but look forward to visiting you and Ed in your new home in Florida some day soon!

Some gals from C'Ville have come out of the wood-work that I hardly know and feel touched that they care enough to reach out to me even though we hardly know each other. Jess, Stacey, Vicki, and Fiona, are four gals that I am overwhelmed by their thoughtfulness and compassion. Jess sent me a doily book I was dying to have, Stacey send me a nice letter wishing me get-well thoughts, Vicki called me while in the hospital, and Fiona spoiled me with some bath goodies.

There is one person who I want to sing the highest praise to: Deneen. She has called me often and has been my sounding board, a dear friend who has given me a hand to hold in all of this. She has let the C'Ville group know about my status, plus her compassion and support is truly priceless.

I feel so blessed by all of you! Thank you for being there for me!

After making a few of these spiral doilies, I think I have mastered the spiral! First I learned that it doesn't hurt to wind the spiral tight. Second, the secret is in the blocking. Pinning the spiral into shape and place locks it in and keeps it from popping open.

This doily is a top secret surprise for someone, whom I think doesn't read my blog so I think I can safely display it without giving myself away.

The doily measures 17 inches in diameter. I'm not sure if that is how big it is supposed to be. I used DMC Baroque thread.

I've lost track of time. I know it was the 4th of July today and that I was sent home at three pm. I know I watched our local firework display. I know that tomorrow is Tuesday and I have a follow-up appointment with the surgeon in Longview, but the past week has been a blur.

I think it started on Monday with a visit to the local ER for medication for pain. Then on Tuesday I saw the surgeon and he basically did nothing for me although I had been in the ER. The next night I went back to the ER (or was it during the day?) and this time when they called the surgeon he said I was no longer a surgical case and he had no interest in seeing me so I said I wanted to be admitted under my primary care doctor.

The ER doc was willing to send me home knowing I was in writhing pain and vomitting. Sound medical treatment: NOT! Anyhow, thank goodness my primary care doc who has known me since age 10 has his head on his shoulders and not stuck up his butt. He took my pain and suffering seriously and had enough brain to think that there has to be something going on with me to still have pain 7 weeks after surgery. I was given a consult by this very peculiar doctor who proclaimed that I suffer from anterior cutaneous entrapment neuropathy, due to the surgical incision. Apparently some important nerves are being held hostage by scar tissue.

I wish that I could say I feel 100% chipper and divine, but my stoma has decided to stop working after almost a week of doing well. What seems to have stopped up the works is that I ate pizza Saturday night and this put my gut into an evil spasm/reaction. Apparently my body doesn't like pizza because this has happened before.

Whatever neuropathy pain I have is currently overshadowed by my stoma not working which means I am not a very happy camper even after taking two Percocets with a Neurontin chaser. I am ready to crawl out of my ravaged body and take up housing in a new shell, only I'm not a hermit crab.

My arms are shot to hell and back from blown attempts at sticking me for an IV, and what isn't bruised beyond recognition has been damaged from infiltration of IV's. If I go back to the hospital (knock on wood) they will have to start another central line. I curse that the surgeon had them remove the one that had been placed. I think I'll cuss at him tomorrow for making that poor choice.

I talked to the social workers about getting me some help at home. There is a program that I may qualify for that would have someone come in a clean, help me clean myself, and perform other chores that Pooky can't get around to doing. I'm wearing myself out typing this, but felt the need to say something to you all.

Lovely spasms are underway, and I feel the need to be horizontal. Will try to post as energy allows. Too bad I've not yet mastered psychic communications....