How to cheer me up...

I feel like everybody else is as behind in reading blogs as I am, and so I'm not going to feel guilty about it. If you're getting a comment from me on a weeks-old post, I'm sure you won't mind.

As for other things, can I just say that having your 7-yr-old nephew sleep over is a cure-all for many things? It really gave me no time at all to sit and obsess about some of the things that have been happening, and I'm kind of grateful for that.
My aunt is staying in the hospital till at least Tuesday - they still don't know what caused her to pass out, or why she's so anemic (I still vote for the whole, you have to eat food to get nutrients thing, but I'm not doctor). My dad is still on vacation, and I have only wanted to kill him 3 or 4 times. I'm still trying to do battle with this last flare, hopefully in time to get ready for the next, post-Thanksgiving flare. (I have, in fact, missed out on Thanksgiving before - twice - and so, won't do so again unless absolutely necessary. Let me explain to you how much I love gravy...)

But back to the sleepover.

Except for the fact that baby talk and whining are apparently Youngest Nephew's newest favored forms of communication (and the fact that Auntie NTE does not hear either of those things, which confused him a lot), we had a fabulous time.

We played computer games; he showed me his Webkinz' house & let me feed them (woo hoo); We played Clue Jr about 7 times.

He ate cold pizza for lunch and had dinner at 8:30 (I told you Dad was home - he was obviously in charge of dinner as well).

He got up at 7:30 this morning, came into my (freezing - where was the HEAT??) room, snuggled under the covers and we played Would you rather... He'd rather learn to scuba dive than learn to climb a mountain, btw, and I'd rather have him build me a house than try to build a house out of Legos.

He made scrapbook pages for his Mum & Dad, while I tried to do some but kept getting distracted by the glitter. And the scraps of paper that were flying in the air. And the mess.

We listened to the Animaniacs and Schoolhouse Rock.

He watched his first Looney Tunes cartoon with my dad - and laughed.

He told me he loved me about a million times and left a message on my dry erase board that reads:

To A. NTE:

Hihooowaaaaaaaaaahya? This is from a book we both love, The Wicked Big Toddlah.

I slout you. He is not, contrary to Mum's opinion, calling me a slut. He salutes me... aw..
And I love you.

Love, ? Secret messages are verrry popular in our family.

(Relly, it's from Youngest Nephew) That says "really," andd he signed it in cursive! He's getting so big.

You just can't beat that, if you ask me.

Here's where SisterCh is hanging out today

Kinda takes your breath away... or gives it back, as the case may be.

Made me breathe a little deeper, anyways. Happy Saturday, all!

Sitting around waiting for inspiration ain't really accomplishing much for me ~

It's been a long, long week.. everyday a new & surprisingly bad revelation, and for me - who was already worn out from this fantastic flare - it has been pretty hard just to drag myself through. Here's some of the highlights -

On Monday, Sister Ch developed a rash at work (again... this is like the 4th time in a row). Only this time, it was severe enough to get her to go to the ER... where she waited 4 hours to be told that she has some sort allergy. They gave her the name of an allergist and an Epi-pen. Of course, since she has no idea of what she's allergic to, it should be interesting to see how that works out.

On Tuesday, we discovered little bugs in our kitchen. They are not ants. They are not roaches, they are some sort of little beetle or something... and they like our windowsills. Oh, and also the cabinets.

On Wednesday, some of my Nana's test results came back and the news is not good. We don't know how not good yet, so I'm trying not to think of it just now... She's got an MRI scheduled for tomorrow morning, and then she's got to see an ENT for a biopsy.

Yesterday, there was no bad news. And we had Lil Girl, which was great. And she said SisterCh's name, which was adorable. And I breathed and took a shower, and waited for the doctor to call. He didn't, but that was O.K. cuz I didn't really want to talk to him.

And today? Well today was supposed to be a nice relaxing day for Mum & I, b/c Dad's on vacation starting tomorrow and 'vacation' for him in reality means 'more opportunities for driving us crazy.' Like making homemade raviolis, which he wants to do, you know... for Thanksgiving. (????) But instead of that, my Mum got a call from Nana saying my aunt had passed out at work and was on her way to the ER in an ambulance. My aunt has been sick for a while now, but - because she refuses to go to the doctor - nobody knows what's wrong with her. She just lost a lot of weight (and she had little to spare to begin with), her skin got all crepe-y and off colored, and she had trouble eating. Turns out she pulled a little me - the whole low-blood pressure = syncope number - and hit her head on the way down. (Boy, that hurts, let me tell you.) A few stitches, nothing big. But now that they've got her, they're trying to figure out the why of it: she's anemic and severely dehydrated, and, when my Mum finally came home right about 8 hours after she left, she told me they were thinking there was a problem with her liver.
(This is where I mention that alcoholism runs in both sides of my family - largely unacknowledged, btw. She wasn't drinking this morning, certainly, but I doubt that her drinking isn't in someway connected to her problems.) But she was awake, alert and cranky by the end of the day.

So - little annoyances, bigger issues, health worries right and left, a not-so-major flare, and Thanksgiving looming... it was, in fact, a particularly un-fabulous week. I'm pretending that a new week starts tomorrow, on Saturday. Because I need it to. Youngest Nephew is coming for his regularly scheduled sleepover, and I'm determined to have a better day.

I hope you all are having nice, normal, calm, peaceful weeks. Get ready to think of all the things you are thankful for: they've been uppermost in my mind just lately, I'll tell you that.

I'm definitely not GIDDY,

but today's Thursday Theme is. So I searched through some of my photo archives, and came up with some pictures of giddiness. Here's the one that made me smile the most.

It's Youngest Nephew, his mum (Soon-to-be SIL), SisterCh & our Mum, New Years 2005...



They've just finished a puzzle. Seriously, who can get that excited about a puzzle? I do not like puzzles. At all... it's a huuuge waste of time to me. To each his own, I guess.. and seeing as how it was Mum's birthday - and puzzles are in her list of favorite things to do, it was nice that she found some people to play with her.

Ok, in addition to being Elinor Dashwood,

I am also a big fat liar. Totally not coming back with anything resembling a fabulous post today.

Unless you think that quizzes I've saved as drafts count as fabulous... in which case, are YOU in luck!!

Thanksgiving Horoscope for Gemini

You're the sign most likely to bring up interesting and controversial topics at Thanksgiving dinner. Your signature dish: Sweet potatoes with marshmallows Your signature dessert: Pumpkin cheesecake This holiday: Play bartender. You're family is much more lively with a few drinks in them.

What's Your Thanksgiving Horoscope?

And if, by "much more lively" they mean "totally crackhouse crazy," then this horoscope is right on target.

Take the Quiz here!

Hiding from the flare, in good old Regency England. (Not with Ms. Austen, although I did reread P&P recently, but rather Ms. Quinn, Ms. Kleypas, & Ms. Laurens.) Back again tomorrow, in hopefully a more pleasant manner.

MBSM

Here's the newest member of our clan - Baby O, at 3 months old.

His parents, my cousin and her husband, trekked down from Maine to introduce us to their new guy. It was great to see them all, particularly since Baby O was a long time, and quite a few troubles, in coming. We're all so happy, and it was just one of those things that fills your heart: Seeing Baby O with his doting Daddy and head-over-heels Mommy. It's nice to see happiness where there was so much pain.

Plus, I am uncontested Queen of the Baby Hogs, and Baby O had no issues with that at all. (Although Lil Girl was more than a little put out at first... she handled it pretty well, though.) ;)

So here's the cutie, My Best Shot Monday, and totally worth the little flare I'm dealing with today.

Present time....

See yesterday's post Re: The 1st party of the Clump, and you will see that I am pretty exhausted, so here's a look at SisterK's birthday present. A year ago, I decided to do scrapbooks for all of my siblings, and each year on their birthdays, I add a year's worth of pages. I enjoy doing them (even though they are a lot of work), and so far, my siblings have all really loved them. Of course, I have a ton of work to do for SisterS and Only Brother over the course of the next month, but I'm not thinking about that now. Instead, here are a few of the pages I added to Sister K's book this year:

And so it begins...

Yesterday was Youngest Sister/Sister K's 19th birthday, which ushers in our season o'birthdays. Or, as I like to call it, The Clump. Oldest Nephew really starts things off in the end of September, but then things really start to roll, and birthdays start coming fast and quick all the way through to the first week of February. Here's a brief rundown of the birthdays just in our immediate family:

Oldest Nephew - Sept 20th
SisterK - Nov 9
SisterS - Nov 30
Soon-to-be-SIL - Dec 10th
Only/Big Brother - Dec 15th
Mum - Jan 1
SisterCh - Jan 5
Dad - Jan 21
SisterJ - Feb 8

Hence, The Clump. If you throw in a couple of cousins, both of my grandfathers (who are now deceased), and a handful of anniversaries - not to mention Christmas, Thanksgiving, and New Years... well, you can see how it might get a little crazy around here sometimes.

When I was younger, I was jealous of The Clump - everyone in my family had their birthdays all together, and I was stuck out in June all by myself. (Of course, they were all jealous of me, because it was for my birthday and I could have cookouts. Grass greener and all that.) But additions to our family in recent years have contributed to a sort of Mini-Clump in the late spring. Now there's

Youngest Nephew - May 2
Lil Girl - May 21
Soon to be BIL - May 22
Me - June 5

It's not quite so isolated now, and with all the graduations and first communions we've had over the years, it's hard to remember a time when it really was just me, out there all by myself. I kind of like that our Mini-Clump is gathering new members... we'll see what the future brings.

Anyways, tomorrow is our first Clump-party: SisterK will be coming for cake, and my cousin, her husband, are coming down from Maine to introduce us to their new baby (yay! except I've been worried about my sinus infection and being contagious, but the doc said it's not strep, and I've been on the antibiotics for... well, these ones for a week, and he said I should be good. I've got masks, though, just in case.) I've finished up SisterK's present, and am resting, resting, resting for tomorrow. Now if I could only get some actual sleep, it'd be fabulous.

You know what I would consider fair?

I would call it fair if, as consolation for having the "sinus infection that laughs in the face of 3 (count them 3!) antibiotics," my sense of smell was diminished a bit. You know that whole hyper-olfactory sense? Yeah, I shouldn't be able to have that and what feels like three elephants sitting on my head. It really should be an either/or type deal...

But, if there's anything we all know, it's that fair very rarely enters into the equation.

It's certainly not the worst thing that I've got going on, but it just seems illogical that my sinuses are so clogged that I have to turn my head every three minutes or else that side starts to throb and my eye waters, and yet I can also smell that somebody has their fireplace going down the street. And that Mrs. PUS spilled gasoline in the driveway (Which is right outside my window. Yeah, my love for her knows no bounds.) when she tried to fill up the snow blower.

Doesn't that just seem wrong? Smelling or snot, but not both. That should be a rule.

I specifically waited until after The Office...

so that I could pepper this link with a fabulous quotes from this week's episode.


Here's is Dwight (Oh, boy was Dwight awesome in this episode): I keep various weaponry strategically placed around the office. ... People say "Oh, it's dangerous to keep weapons in the home or the workplace." Well I say it's better to be hurt by someone you know accidentally, than by a stranger on purpose.

I've never actually had a full-time, paying job. When I was a teenager, I babysat pretty regularly & subbed as the secretary at the local rectory. For two years before I got sick, I'd been an assistant dance teacher at the dancing school I took lessons at, but it was paid in kind - teaching classes to pay for my classes & a discount on the costumes. (Did I ever mention that? That I was a dancer before I got sick? I can't remember now...) When I got sick, I was 15 - about 9 months shy of being old enough to get my work papers (without parental permission and a whole lotta red tape). It worked for us. Anyways...

Then I got sick, and I went to school ~ still took some babysitting jobs here and there, but that was all I could manage. Then I did my placements and internships and semesters as a student teacher, but none of those are paid positions.

So I've never been in a union. What I know about unions comes from repeated viewings of Newsies and the scattering of information to be found in economics classes, history classes, & sociology classes about the intersections of poverty and prosperity. I realize I don't know too much about this strike beyond it's ability to impact me, as a television viewer (No Daily Show! No Jon Stewart! No Steven Colbert! How will I liiiiiive??)

But it seems to me that the contracts of workers should have to keep up with the development of newer technologies in that particular field. I don't find it absurd that they're asking to be included on ALL of the profits from their work... in fact, it makes no sense to me that there's even a debate about it. Aside from greed (or other excuses that seem to boil down to greed), I haven't heard any justification of the opposition's position to this increase.

And that's why I'm so glad that Steve Carell said he wouldn't cross the picket line, even if it means that there won't be any new episodes of the Office to watch for a while... Because he's standing up for the people on his team, doing what seems right to him. As if I didn't already love him enough.

I am not a normal people.

I know it most when I watch them go - walking, talking, absentmindedly - absent-bodily, actually.

They move without thinking, sure their bodies will obey. They don't think through each step; don't plan out those quick head turns. They never pause & wait for the "all clear" before continuing.

To them, movement is natural: It just happens - their feet know when to lift, when to fall. How fast they run down the stairs - never having to check, to reassess the distance between steps.

Their hearts beat faster when they need them to, slow down of their own accord.

If they trip or fall, it is because they were going so fast - too fast to notice an untied shoe or cracked sidewalk. It isn't because their bodies can't remember how to make energy or just gave up trying. It isn't because their nerves are too busy receiving pain signals to comply with the order to 'go.'

When they pause to talk to someone, they don't spend the conversation worrying about whether or not their heart will choose this moment to stall. Or if the person they are talking to can notice that they don't understand what they are talking about.

They walk. They stoop and swivel and sway as they go.

All of their systems remain connected: Each speaking to the other frequently, sharing all of the vital information that a person's body requires. My systems have turned rogue - secretive and paranoid, deciding it's best to only communicate through a complicated series of guttural clicks and signal fires.

While my body has decided to boycott anything more strenuous than yawning, theirs amble on. As they flow freely from one place to another, my body gasps at their courage - or foolishness. To face the sun unprotected?!? To wander recklessly without holding on to walls?!? To spray things at themselves without concerns of headache or nausea?!?

To move as if pain were not their constant companion?!?

Don't they know that sleep is the body's enemy? Obviously not, as they seem blissful in their hours of rest. My body knows better - it recognizes sleep as a necessary evil, battles against it as long as possible, often with remarkable tenacity. When it finally gives in, it does not surrender completely - the battle continues again and again, all through the night. And when the sun rises, I am all too aware of who has emerged the victor.

Perhaps it is their bodies that are neglectful - ignoring the obvious threats posted by any common wayward smell or ray of light. Perhaps my body is right to guard me from standing: after all, it is a a much higher place to fall from. Perhaps it is right to keep me from straying to far from my bed, to limit me to view the world outside from my bedroom window.

Perhaps.

But I'll take one of those neglectful bodies, any day.

Here I am ...

Not too late for today's post, but a little late in the day for my brain to be working. But I have a good excuse - or, rather, a familiar excuse. I'll give you a hint.. it rhymes with Finus Bnfection.


Yes, that's right... the sinus infection from two weeks ago decided that it had enough of this whole "I'm getting better and just lingering a little" phase and decided instead to try on "I think I will make her throw up because the pressure in her head is so bad" for size.

So, a whole new antibiotic and a narcotic or two later, here we are.


Thankfully, I had a doctor's appointment scheduled for yesterday anyways, and Zack took one look at me and said, "What is with this sinus infection?"

And I don't mean he looked up my nose or down my throat and said that... I mean, he walked in the room, saw me, and said that. It was not the best compliment I've ever received, but it's also pretty awesome how well he knows me.

We talked about a whole lot of other stuff too - updates (including why my next appointment is with a neurosurgeon, and wth is Fibromyalgia-plus?) to follow on a day when I'm not oozing anything.

There, now aren't you glad you stopped by?

:)

MBSM

Most people are putting their Halloween pictures up for MBSM, and I already did that here, so I'm just going to leave that link for anybody who hasn't seen them.


As for other things, I'll just give you a brief update: SisterJ started back to work today, and she says that it is much easier today than last time. Last time, 2 weeks ago, when she was crying and hiding under her desk on the phone with me. I'm very, very glad that things are going better than that today, but since just about anything would be better than that, I'm not sure exactly what it means.

I do know that in the past week or so, I've seen a marked difference in her behavior & attitude - an ability to see past the next five minutes, for example.
Less panic, more steadyness.
Actual laughter. (Which, after she left, made me cry happy tears, I'm not ashamed to say.)

She's starting to resemble herself, and I am starting to not feel as if I have to check in on her every couple of hours - or panicked when I can't reach her. It isn't a miracle, of course, but it feels like one. Bit by bit, day by day, things are improving.

This is her third antidepressant, and it looks like it is finally starting to help her. The therapy is finally starting to help. She's finally starting to recognize that there are options and that time and life are not her enemy. When we talk, it isn't always in desperation: there's room for other thoughts and people, for the future, for planning. She's able to see that losing this job isn't the worst thing that could happen to her, that she can bear the weight all of the pressures she is under.

She has hope, again - I can see it.

It's still slogging through each and every day. It's still almost unbearably hard and sad and scary, but it's better, and I wanted to thank you all for listening and supporting me. Most important, I wanted to let you all know that things are changing, one little bit at a time.

It is November 4th, is it not?

Because I heard Christmas music today.

And the Christmas channel is back on our digital music choices.

And that stupid Christmas Reindeer commercial for the Christmas Crafts Fair - I don't know if they have these in other places, but every year this stupid reindeer insists that there are only "Three shopping days till Christmas:" the Friday, Saturday, & Sunday of the craft fair. Which happens to be next weekend. But the reindeer's voice? ugh.

Of course the Christmas tree stuff is up in stores, I've heard. I'm not going to a store, and I'm using this as a reason why not.

Because Halloween was 5 days ago... literally FIVE days ago. That means it is not Christmas time yet. I love Christmas as much as anybody ~ I really, really do ~ but I like it to start after Thanksgiving. So that means it is much too early for this:

You know, I am reading things besides Llama, Llama red pajama... and here's a little update on some of what's been making its way through my brain this week:


Here's the Quote of the Week, Books -->

"It had been a terrible day - Mam hadn't gone to Mass, and it's impossible to convey how serious this is to someone unfamiliar with the Irish Catholic mammy. The ICM won't miss Sunday Mass even if she's got rabies and is foaming at the mouth - she'll simply bring a box of tissues and brazen it out. If her leg falls off, she'll hop. If her other leg falls off, she'll walk on her hands while still managing to wave graciously at neighbors passing by in cars." p 54 Marian Keyes - The Other Side of the Story

I hadn't read any of Marian Keyes before, and I thought this was a great book - funny and honest and smart. This quote alone would make the book a keeper, because it's so true. My Grandmother is an ICM - My uncle usually drives her to church, but if he's not available and even though she has to walk down (and then back up) a hill that is referred to as Dead Man's Curve (I'm not joking), she'll walk it. In the snow. At age 90, with macular degeneration so bad in one eye that she's partially blind. (Of course, she could just call and say she needs a ride, but does she? No. But that's another story.) She honestly believes that giving Youngest Sister the Mass schedules for every church within 10 miles of Harvard Square is going to be enough to make her go to Mass every Sunday. When YSister calls home, Grandmother asks her which priest she had for confession. It's pretty funny.

But she's also, in recent years, become a lot more lenient in regards to other people's faith. When she lost two sons and her husband of nearly 65 years within a 2 year period, I think it changed things for her somehow. Shook her in ways she'd never have expected. I know she believes, but I don't know exactly how she believes. I wish I could have her faith, just that ability to know inside herself, but I don't. So it's amazing and wonderful to me.

But, even though she called the Pastor at her church when she found out my sister was reading The DaVinci Code, she's not nearly as set in her ways as she could be.

She's an odd mix of the radical - in that many of her more liberal beliefs fall way outside the official Catholic canon - and the traditional. She's pro-Gay rights, but not Gay marriage. She's against divorce, yet told me that leaving my father (her son) was the best thing my mother could've done (for all of us involved), and sees my half sisters (technically not blood related) as just as much a part of her family as any of her other grandchildren. I had always assumed that it was at her urging that my 16-year-old parents had gotten married in the first place, when my mother turned up pregnant, but learned recently that she was initially against it - and that she had offered my mother a home with them should her family object. She's always been extraordinarily kind, but she's also got unexpected pockets of coldness and stubbornness. She remembers all the Holy Days of Obligation - If I see the parking lot for the church across the street start to fill up, I'll call her and ask her why... and she'll know.

No matter what, though, I know if it's 5:00 on a Saturday, or 9:00 on a Sunday, Grandmother is at church. Even if she has to walk on her hands.

Missing:

It may just be the end of the world: We have misplaced our copy of Llama, Llama, Red Pajama. A true tragedy, my friends.

Nevermind that we have, literally, hundreds of other books. Only Llama, Llama will do! LilGirl is, I am proud to say, a book lover. And when she's in love with specific books, there are no substitutions allowed. Llama Llama was last seen on Saturday, at Grandmother's House, although she insists it is not there. It is also not in the blue bag we brought back from Grandmother's House, either basket Lil Girl's books live in, or any of its usual haunts. I have faith that it will be found, but not during this naptime... Hopefully, when she wakes up, she will not remember that she wanted it, and we can instead see how many babies will fit into this carriage.


Also, while searching for a picture of Llama, llama, I find that there is a NEW LLAMA - Llama, llama mad at mama. You know who's going to the bookstore this weekend, right? Well, not me... but I can send somebody!

Yay! NaBloPoMo Day #1

I'm still up, and it's after midnight, so I figured I'd get an early start on things.

Hi, everybody!

How was your Halloween? We got about 10 Trick or Treaters, total. And more than half of those were 12 year olds in wigs, with pillowcases. And eggs. But, whatever. My two favorite Trick or Treaters showed up, even though I was beginning to doubt that they would make it, and that was enough for me.

Here's what made my heart happy tonight... it's a good thing to start the month off right, that's for sure. (even if I didn't get the red eye out yet... you know they're not really demons, right? )

: Deep Breath :

Well, I'm gearing up for National Blog Posting Month, determined to post once a day, just like last year. (Although it seems to be more organized, and a bit more intimidating this year.) I'm committed to it, since cutting back on blogging because things have been crazy here hasn't cut back on my urge to blog (or the guilt from not blogging). So get ready for at least one post - every single day! Can you imagine? I'm quite looking forward to it, and to reading all of your posts as well.

Hope this Halloween finds you happy & healthy!

Taking Care

Sorry, but I've been too busy watching the World Series to post.









Yeah, I didn't think you'd buy that, but it gave me a chuckle to write it anyways.

No, in reality, it's more I've been trying to take care.

Care of SisterJ whose connection to the world seems fragile at best, and who needs so much, and makes me wish I had better answers (or, indeed, any at all).

Care of SisterCh who did the totally selfish thing last week, instead of supporting her sister, and now feels even more isolated from our family. Which is what I knew was going to happen when she decided to go back to Loser Boy, so I'm setting aside my anger at her behavior in order to help her see that she's still loved. Care of Youngest Sister, who spend all week 'preparing' to write a 7 page paper, totally intimidated by her first Harvard assignment. Helping her move past the fear to get to the actual writing took us 7 days... and she finally finished it at about 3 this morning, 5 hours before it was due. I know the next one will be easier, but jeesh...


Care of Lil Girl, who (like her brother before her and Oldest Nephew before him) helps remind me that there is happiness in the world, that I am doing something important with my life, even if it's not what I'd planned to be doing.


Care of Grandmother, when we found out one of my uncles (her second oldest) has lung cancer - a tennis ball sized tumor, but not metastisized, thankfully - on the 7th anniversary of another of her son's death. (PS. Typing "Lunch Cancer" instead of "Lung Cancer" probably isn't worth a chuckle, but I'll take them where I can get them these days.) Care of my other grandmother, Nana, whose doctors think she also has lung cancer - and taking care of her, in this case, means convincing her to not bury her head in the sand like she would like to: to at least have the (non-invasive) PET Scan (hell, I've already had 2!), so that they can have a better idea of what she's really facing.

Care of Mum who pretty much refuses to let anybody take care of her, and I seem to be the only one who's recognizing that this is all ridiculously difficult on her too. No, that's not true, but SisterJ can't feel better just for her - although she'd like to - and the rest of them just aren't helping as they should. So I try to make her eat, by eating. Or TiVo stuff for us to watch together and ask her to sit with me. Or nag her until she calls the eye doctor about her weird rash and makes her (2 years overdue - like Nana, like Mum!) GYN appointment.

Care of a cousin, pregnant with Twins - her first, very high risk pregnancy. Who's now confined to 'light bed rest' (meaning she can go to the doctor's appointments and the bank, all in the same week, but only if she absolutely has to) with more than 2 months left to go. Who never thought she'd have kids, but, now that she is, spends all of her time worrying over how not to lose them - and throwing up so hard it comes out her nose.

I'm trying to listen, I'm trying to help. I'm just showing up, because it is all I can think to do. I'm having trouble showing up at all the places I want to be though - a friend's housewarming, the other end of College Roommate's phone calls, this blog, friend's blogs - and because I'm also trying to take care of me, I'm giving myself the space to not feel guilty about that right now.

However, this is definitely one of those weeks where I'd like to dissect alive, piece by tiny piece, the people who wrote The Secret: "Law of attraction - really? Well, let's see... my scalpel seems to be unnaturally attracted to your pinky toe nail, whoops, I meant the whole toe... and also your kneecap...and..." Because there's only so much 'thinking your way to the positive' you can do when your body is trying to reject your babies, or when your brain is telling you that the only time you are safe is when you are asleep, so wouldn't "sleeping" forever mean you'd be safe forever?