My life as of late, because I know you will be riveted:

-- Went home this past weekend. When I say home, I mean Eastern Ky where my dad lives, my hometown. It was nice. We went out on the pontoon, took some amazing photos of a late summer sunset and watched what's known as a FishCam while dad fished. (That thing is hilarious and makes fishing infinitely more entertaining - especially for non-fishing types like me.) Bogey had his first ever boat ride and handled it, well... swimmingly. In typical boy fashion, he was at the helm of the boat, taking on the smells as they came. Gypsy is more zen and likes to stay in place, letting the scents come to her. We spent the rest of the weekend watching Michael Phelps break records and playing with my dad's 80lb Labrador Retriever in the pool. It was a good time though, a good weekend and I needed the battery recharge. Plus, I hadn't seen my dad since we all went to the beach two months ago and it was nice.

-- Back in March, I had my first thyroid blood test in over a year. I was absolutely positive my dose would need to be adjusted and that my hypothyroidism had worsened. It was undeniable. When two ditzy girls from my new ineffectual doctor's office called afterward to tell me "everything is fine" with no further explanation, I was absolutely shocked. Dr. DoNothing has not called me to explain my TSH levels, nor does she even remember my name when I'm there. Over the past month, my symptoms have worsened to the point that I am almost incapacitated on a daily basis. I lay on the couch drifting in and out of sleep and I am immediately dizzy and/or feeling faint as soon as I stand or sit up. My periods have become irregular again, my hair is falling out at a small but steady pace, my memory and comprehension are pretty much shot, and my throat is thick again and I have difficulty swallowing. It is the exact same scenario as four years ago, before I was ever properly diagnosed. I'm sick of Dr. DoNothing and I've had it with picking my doctors out of a phone book. So now I've spent the past month calling endocrinologists and researching in depth every local doctor I can find. If they haven't published any studies that specifically focus on hypothyroid, then they don't get my business. Simple as that. I don't have the time or energy to keep wasting co-pays on doctors that treat hypothyroidism like it is the common cold, easily treatable and a waste of their time. It is a complex illness that affects every single organ system. So I need a specialist.

Of course, now that I have managed to find one that specializes in hypothyroid and the causes of hypothyroid, I cannot even get through to his office staff. I repeatedly get a message saying that if I wish to schedule an appointment, "leave a message." What the...? Does this mean that he's really good and busy or that he's just a jackass?
Man, I miss my old awesome doctor. I'd give anything to have five minutes of her time and a good referral. Preferably before I fall asleep at the wheel someday from pure exhaustion. Poor Husband is very worried about me and continues to try reaching this new doctor every day leaving desperate messages. It's really all we can do right now.

-- My mom is separating from her fifth husband. Yes, fifth. It's a good thing I guess, but what good does a separation do if you're constantly staying overnight at your estranged spouse's apartment? Whenever she's not around him, she's somewhat normal again, laughing and confident. The minute she's with him, she's back to nerve-wracking neediness again, bitching about everything under the sun and demanding that I fix everything. Part of me wants them to be divorced and have it done with. The other part of me dreads taking care of her when she's alone, drinking too much and unable to handle life on her own. It's a slippery slope, being the daughter of my mother. You help her too much, she'll use you, never thank you and make you insane. You offer her too little of your comfort and time, she acts like you're the coldest person on the planet and tells everyone how much "you hate her." There is no winning and I am done trying. All I can do is offer tips and advice, then step back. I have my own life to worry about. After the childhood I had, I'm not about to ruin what's left of my adulthood.

-- Since putting in our new floor, we've taken a break from big home renovations for a while. Sure, we still do little projects here and there, but with my current health status, it's just not worth it for me to be hammering, sanding and painting away right now. So we live on our awesome nice floor and wait for life to even out. I have come to terms with the fact that what we are doing right now is all we can do. I'd love to be able to do more (I always want to do more), but I have to be patient. My body deserves my time and it's my job to give it just that.

I find myself withdrawing. I don't know exactly why, maybe it's just easier? I'm a person that doesn't mind being alone - prefers it actually - and even though that's probably not healthy, it is what it is. As always, I will go back into my childhood for answers. I was basically a pain in the ass of every step-parent that ever raised me, so naturally, I spent a lot of time alone. I know now that my behaviors were those of normal children, but the entire concept of having to care for someone other than yourself was just a concept my step-parents and sometimes parents did not grasp well. So off I went, relegated to my bedroom to escape into my imagination, indulge in my alone-ness.

It's a feature that's both served me well and cursed me. I never truly learned how to properly interact with others, how to "be social." When people think I'm being a snob or stand-offish, in reality it's usually just me being afraid or too insecure to approach strangers. On the other hand, I used to be in theatre and I'm a natural performer in daily life. If you'd just met me, you would think I was loud, obnoxious, outgoing, forward. Sure, I can turn it on for strangers and I often turn it on for truly close friends that I trust, but for the most part I'm a very private person. I like to be at home with my animals, lost in my thoughts, wearing pajamas, yelling at the TV. Most people will tell you they like those same things too (who doesn't?), but for me it's become preferable to just about everything else. I don't leave the house much lately, I don't get dressed in real clothes much lately, and I certainly don't reach out to real live people much if at all.

I realize it's kind of a crutch, my reclusion. If I don't interact with new people, then there's no chance I'll make a fool out of myself, right? If I don't try to create new friends, then there will be no opportunities to stick my foot in my mouth at dinner, no? Hell, I feel awkward making small talk with a cashier at the grocery store. It's never shyness or irritability with others. It's always me and the crippling fear I'll make a fool out of myself. It's a fear that's followed me my whole life. I was teased a lot all throughout school and it's because of my forwardness and lack of inhibition that I have such an astounding number of truly cringeworthy embarassing moments in my history. My problem isn't fear of being exposed as an uninteresting twit, but rather it's the fear of having to explain and then assault new people with all my eccentricities and hope beyond hope that they will still understand.

I watch people connect and make small talk in every day life and I find myself absolutely enraptured. A introduces herself to B, they discuss mutual interests and acknowledge their immediate common denominator (same neighborhood, same breed of dog, same aged kids, same workplace, etc). At some point a connection is made and A or B is asking the other one to lunch, over for a cookout, exchanging business cards, telephone numbers, dog parks. The relationship is immediately furthered and an acquaintance and/or friend is created. I immediately begin thinking like a scientist/outsider, studying the indigenous behaviors of these two people. How did they know to ask that particular question? How did they know to progress the conversation that way? How did they so easily invite each other over for a barbecue? What is that like? Where did they learn that? Why don't I have that capability? Where did I not learn it?

I am evolved enough to know there isn't anything fundamentally wrong with me, per se. What I do believe is that if the proper sculpting isn't there in the beginning, then the shape of the clay 30 years later will be incredibly rough. It will not resemble anything else out there and it will not be considered the norm. That alone is sadly all it takes for massive rejection by the human race. We form groups, we categorize, we cluster, we classify ourselves, we classify others. It is what gives us a sense of order. I have learned that I look like I fit, but I don't. I appear to be normal, when I am not. I seem to have a common denominator, when I have none. I am a remarkable chameleon that blends with nothing or no one. It is both an invigorating and lonely place to live. In order to find others like you, you must approach a vast sea of others that appear normal and secretly hope that they are somewhat shattered, odd, broken and unkempt on the inside just like you. You must approach all the other Normals, tap their shells, prepare for them to reject you and run away. All in the hope of finding a single person that stays put, admires your amazing shape-shifting abilities and gives you the comfort of companionship.

At the same time though, if you are rejected, it is almost expected. So you retreat, hide, withdraw. It is easy and difficult all at the same time.

I thought it would be interesting to go back through my 100 Things and see if any of them are still true. Judging by the way my life and myself have both transformed in the past three years, I'm betting not.

Originally posted 7/12/05. Wow, that seems like an eternity ago. (Keep an eye out for strikethroughs and italics.)

Read more "100 Things - Modified" »

I've been kind of sick lately. It's a long story for another day (or for Twittering). Today though seems to be a good day, so rather than blog about all of it, I'm going to spend some time with my husband instead. Enjoy this little long bout of fun (stolen from Rasee) in the meantime.

Bold the things you've done, and underline the things you'd like to do. Simple.

Read more "Things to do, things to imagine doing..." »

There's a whopping new entry over at the photoblog. Don't have the password? Just ask. Otherwise, enjoy.

Yes, boys and girls, after nearly a month of constant back-breaking work, it is done.

Say hello to our new floor and - let's be honest here - our whole new house.

Before and After - One

Before and After - Two

Before and After - Three

We decided to go with a click-lock laminate from IKEA, which was a surprise to me. Due to my history of having easily-slipping kneecaps and a hip injury, I was incredibly weary of having any type of floor that could be too slick. Laminates had always been in that category for me. But I was actually surprised to find that laminate floors have come such a long way in the last few years. So much so that I actually found them to be less slick than some of the actual hardwood floors we were considering. Of course, I am a person with skin and sweat glands and complex gripping mechanisms in my feet. The dogs, however, are still learning how to run and play on it.

The reasons it took nearly a month from start to finish:
1) We had to bust up nearly 150 square feet of ceramic tile that extended halfway into the living room (yeah, speaking of slick?) and let me tell you, that was a damn J.O.B.
2) Laying down nearly 500 square feet of plywood sub-floor (used to level and prep a floor for new covering) was another big job that just took way longer than we had anticipated.
3) Lowe's pissed us off. We picked nearly every single paint color in this house based on how they would compliment this one Blonde colored hardwood floor they had on display for the past year at Lowe's. So after nearly a year of preparing for and planning on that specific hardwood floor, we bought a couple boxes of it and brought it home only to discover this: the display was Blonde while the actual floor was ... wait for it... RED. Like, near to a cherry floor red. It wasn't the light in our house, it wasn't the paint colors. It was the fact that the actual wood didn't even remotely match the in-store display. WTF?! So after a month of prep work, we were literally trying to do a year of research and find a new floor in a period of a few days. This is when I got desperate and decided on the laminate. I'm soooo glad I did. Not only was it half as much money and work, it was infinitely a more durable and sturdy surface.
4) All good things when you consider that we did exactly 500 square feet of floor. That's one third of our house.

We have more work to do in the dining room yet. But hey, at least it feels like an actual dining room. It like, has a purpose and a title and stuff. There will also be real furniture in there at some point too, so I imagine that will make a difference, yes?

For the first time in our 16 months here, we are actually proud of our house and happy to have guests over. Hell, we're actually considering staying longer. Now that's an accomplishment!

So don't be shy, tell me what you think!

Today, I am 31 years old. I am also reminded today of why I have never done acid.

I'm off to do a little Wonder Bread. Ride a sled to New Orleans for me.

Today is my chocoholic Husband's 35th birthday. Naturally he was greeted with homemade Cocoa Pancakes (with vanilla yogurt and strawberries) for breakfast.

Why yes, I am Wife of the Year. How did you guess?

Happy birthday, schmoopiebear. .... As long as we have plenty of snacks...

Off to take my robotics engineer to see Wall-E. Oh, the dorkdom! Let it commence!

*This might just be the first in a series of entries. I have a lot of feelings to swim around in this week.

On this day 32 years ago, my parents were married straight out of high school in a back yard ceremony complete with leisure suits, homemade dresses, permed hair and floppy straw hats. On this day 31 years ago, I was due to be born on what would have been their one year wedding anniversary. Today, my father has finally found happiness with his fourth wife, my mother is preparing to go through her fifth divorce and I feel as though I have lived my lifetime plus three others in my short time on this planet. My parents were incredibly young when they married, even still younger when they met. I don't doubt that they loved each other, I just don't think they loved each other enough and in the right ways. Honestly, how much can you really know about give-and-take and marriage when you are 19 with a baby? How much can you have possibly healed and learned from your own faulty upbringings when you are still barely an adult yourself?

It is for this reason I look back on some of the crazy things they did and simultaneously laugh and ache inside. You know that question people always ask you, "what's your very first memory?" I've listened my whole life to other people's responses and I've continuously been surprised at their answers. "Looking out the bars of my crib," some will say or "watching my mother coo at me in my highchair," or "my dad smiling at me and he looks so young." Me? I remember absolutely nothing before the age of four. My life does not begin with cooing noises from my mother or looking out a crib at my toys. I have two very distinct memories and it always seems as if they are within moments or days of each other. The lighting is the same, the tension in the room is the same, the mood is virtually unchanged from one memory to the next. In one, my father is in the kitchen yelling at someone on the phone and pacing back and forth while my mother and I sit at the coffee table in the living room. She is tense, anxious and talking in very upbeat tones in order to distract me from my father's rising voice. We have crayons and paper. She is teaching me how to write my name. We trace it out on the paper again and again. I have the most trouble with the R. (Surely, you knew my name wasn't Staz, yes?) All the while she glances into the kitchen to check on my father's rising aggravation. And just like that, I have learned how to write my name and the image is gone.

In the very next memory, honestly what feels like only days later, I am sitting on the living room couch. My mother is to my left and my father is to my right, but they are not sitting with me. Instead they are crouching, staring at me with an intensity that seems new to me. The only light is coming from the kitchen and the street lamp outside. For some reason, it is very dark in our living room. I don't remember exactly how my mother broke the news to me, but I remember clear as day her next question. "Do you want to live with mommy or daddy?" As an adult, I can only imagine what was going through their minds at that very moment, what thoughts could have been filling their faces with so much stress and tension. But at that time, I was only four and thought this was the most fun game we had ever played. Such a strange question, such serious faces, such power - all given to me! I remember smiling really big and then with a laugh, shouting "Daddy!" In my four year old mind, I fully expected to be picked up and tickled or that my parents would dissolve into wild peals of laughter. Instead, my mother collapsed into the floor, wailing hysterically and crying uncontrollably. My father just stared at me stupefied as though he had just had the gut punch of his life and was not ready for it. The feeling that actually occurred within me is something that even to this day, I cannot accurately describe. It is the feeling of your entire innards dropping, your life swirling into a spin that even you cannot keep up with, your child-like innocence disappearing in a confusing flash, and reality dropping upon you so heavily it makes your head hurt. It is the feeling of being four and then suddenly being forty. The memory fades away after this. I can only guess my four-year-old brain was too overwhelmed to process anymore and so erased it all away.

I understand that my parents were trying to do the right thing. They were trying to give me a choice in my own destiny. Sure, it may have been misguided, and they may have taken my answer a bit too seriously, but at the age of 23, who really know what's right for themselves, much less a child? In the end, I was raised by my father, just as my answer that night had stipulated. It wasn't the perfect upbringing by any means, but I do honestly believe that I am better for it. My father is not a perfect man, but he was certainly stable and provided for me in a way my mother never had the confidence to do herself. She moved a lot, she drank a lot, she dated horrible men, married men even worse than those she dated. I feel very certain that if I had chosen my mother, I would have ended up molested and beaten by the men that abused her as well. While my father's taste in wives was certainly less than stellar, he was still there for me when it counted and always tried to give me stability above all else. I graduated high school with the same friends I'd had in kindergarten. I grew up on the same road my family lived on. I rode my bike down every country backroad that I still associate with "home" today.

It's just an odd place to be in when you were originally due to be born on the very day your parents failed marriage began. Instead though, I was born exactly one week late. My cousin's birthday was one day earlier and everyone was so excited that we might have dual birthdays. I needed to forge my own way though and I think the universe realized that. So I was born exactly one day after him because I am stubborn and demanded to have my own day. It didn't matter though, because they always made us share a cake anyway.

I think it's funny how life always comes full circle. My parents were married July 22nd. I married my own husband on June 22nd. I grew up sharing cake and birthday parties with my cousin because of our close birthdays. Husband grew up sharing his birthday with his twin brother. Now, living separate lives as adults and having moved away from our twins and cousins, we find it highly ironic that J. and I end up sharing our birthdays anyway - with each other. We were born three days (though four years) apart. Still, when our family comes together, it is all of our names on one birthday cake.

We are all lumped in together in this crazy stew of life. My parents, throughout my entire life, have always remained close friends. I don't have a single memory of them fighting over me or screaming at each other about how I should be raised. They have different opinions, they have different personalities, they are different people. Still, they are connected through me and their traits run deep within me. My father's very happy fourth marriage? Well, ten years ago, he married my mom's older sister. Again, the circles, they go round and round. It is a very harmonious situation with everyone happy and satisfied and even comfortable. Though now, I am in an even stranger position. When I go home for Christmas, I am still a child of nearly ten divorces, but my mother and father are both in one house. They are not married to each other and they are not enemies. They are just what they are, two people that once loved each other, had a child and remained a family.

What time did you get up this morning?
In bed at 2am, up at 8:30am, eventually back to sleep until 10:30am. This is how it goes when you're a can't-stay-asleep insomniac.

Diamonds or pearls?
Either/or. I'm not much into jewelry really.

What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Indy 4. This damn floor fiasco has kept us from both Wall-E and Dark Knight. Dammit.

What is your favorite TV show?
Rescue Me, Pushing Daisies, Medium

What do you usually have for breakfast?
If my stomach is in the mood for breakfast, I do a granola bar.

What is your middle name?
Uh, Staz I guess? I'm not telling you, dude.

What food do you dislike?
Squash.

What kind of car do you drive?
2000 black Oldsmobile Alero. She's old now, but she's still our 'bella nera.'

Favorite sandwich?
Veggie or grilled cheese or grilled cheese with veggies. Mmm.

What characteristic(s) do you despise?
Fakeness, hostility, martyrdom.

Favorite item of clothing?
PJ's.

If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go?
Italy.

Are you an organized person?
If it's possible to be organized while being messy, that's me.

Where would you like to retire to?
Mackinac Island.

What was your most recent memorable birthday?
Turning 30 next to my dad's pool with a small cookout, cake and family. No frills, just laid back and happy.

What are you going to do when you finish this?
Probably call J. and figure out what we're doing for dinner.

When is your next birthday?
In eight days actually. Wow.

Morning person or night person?
Definitely night person. My morning persona borders on something out of "Mommy Dearest."

What is your shoe size?
10. Yes, 10.

Pets?
Two hounds, three in-house cats, one FIV+ cat that lives on my mom's farm and pays his rent in dead mice.

Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us?
I might be temporarily inheriting a chihuahua while my mom goes through her 5th divorce and I might get caught in the middle of her shit again at the age of 30. Not exciting enough? Okay, um... we're almost finished with the damn floor? Yay?

What did you want to be when you were little?
Veterinarian. Tyrannical queen. The veterinarian was more practical really.

How are you today?
Okay, a little tired, a little bored, a lot sticky and hot. Oh, summer.

What is your favorite flower?
Lilies.

What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to?
J's birthday this Saturday, my birthday next Tuesday.

What are you listening to?
David Gray "Real Love" and the hum of air conditioners and fans.

Do you wish on stars?
Yes, but mostly I just wish for the courage and foresight to make my own wishes come true.

If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
Lately, I'm feeling very "Cornflower."

How is the weather right now?
So hot, sticky sweet, from my head to my feet. Yeah.

Last person you spoke to on the phone?
My mom a few days ago, I think? I generally avoid the phone.

Favorite soft drink?
Sweet Tea.

Favorite restaurant?
Don't really have a favorite. Lately, I'm craving Maggiano's eggplant parmesan though.

Hair color?
Blondes do it better, baby.

What was your favorite toy as a child?
My Strawberry Shortcake kitchen, stuffed animals, Sweet Pickles books, whatever pet was close by.

Summer or winter?
I used to hate winter, but now I could go either way.

Chocolate or vanilla?
Vanilla.

Coffee or tea?
Tea.

When was the last time you cried?
Probably the other day when I was freaking out about money and not getting to go to Michigan this summer. It was a very grown-up moment.

What is under your bed?
Our bed is very low to the ground, so nothing. It's probably the cleanest spot in the house really.

What did you do last night?
Watched "Batman Begins" for the 100th time with the Husband, came very close to finishing the floor, made a new casserole, played with the dogs. It was a good day.

What are you afraid of?
Arachnids.

Salty or sweet?
After dinner - sweet. One week a month - salty.

How many keys on your key ring?
5, some are completely obsolete.

How many years at your current job?
Being a stay-at-home dog mom, cook, and home renovator? Almost a year now.

Favorite day of the week?
Saturday.

Do you make friends easily?
Nope.