Archive for June, 2007

Daughter Belle: “I wish they made a Calorie Pill so I could take a few of those and not have to stuff myself silly all the time, trying to gain weight.”

Momma Belle: “I think they do. They’re called M&Ms.”

I found this little quiz on Nspired by Faith. It looked fun, and I’m bored, so why not? (Edited for sensitive eyes.)

You Are Amy Lee!

Gothy, expressive, woman-in-pain Who looks darn good in a corset “When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears”

A few minutes ago, I noticed my good dog pawing at something over against the wall. Knowing the habit of the neighborhood scorpions to decide to infiltrate our humble abode, I figured I should check it out. Much to my relief, it was not a scorpion, just a spider. Now, I’m not fond of spiders, but knowing that most of them aren’t a danger makes me not freak out over one anymore. (Yes, I know that Texas scorpions aren’t a danger either, but come on. They’re just freaky and scary anyway!)

I leaned in to see what kind of spider it was (we get these totally harmless but incredibly dangerous looking black ones with red back marks!), and I couldn’t tell, but I did notice that its butt was kind of bumpy. I wasn’t thinking about this fact very clearly (I am tired… it is 2am, after all, and I wanted to go to bed an hour ago but was too riveted by a google search on what can make for cloudy urine — yes, I’m that much of a nerd) and decided to just kill it.

My husband is not here tonight, so there weren’t any big shoes around. I wear a size 5 shoe and when it comes to spider squishing, I’m a firm believer in the bigger the better. We don’t have any bug spray, so I decide Lysol is a safe bet. That stuff will kill anything. So I spray it with Lysol, and of course, it freaks out and slows down enough for me to feel secure in squishing it with a smaller-type shoe. So I squish it, but it’s a very determined little bugger and it does NOT want to die. I squish it 4 more times before it dies. It’s then that I realize that there are little moving things all across where the spider had crawled in its final moments. What were these little moving things, you ask? Well, at first glance, I thought they were ants. We’re always battling ants in Texas. I’ll tell you right now, they were not ants. They were little baby spiders that I guess jumped off of big momma’s butt when I started inundating them with poison. Little baby spiders. A TON of little baby spiders. Crawling on my floor. Probably jumping on my head, running up my nose, and trying to eat my brain. I think that portion of the carpet is now completely disinfected for life. And there are who knows how many dead and disinfected baby spiders now sitting in my vacuum cleaner. I love Lysol.

I haven’t stopped feeling little things crawling all over me since. I’m not sure I’ll get much sleep tonight. I’m completely skeeved out! Like I said, I’m generally okay with most spiders… and I will leave them alone to live their happy spidery little lives if they’re outside. But they aren’t allowed to survive if they breach my doorway… especially carrying little babies on their butts!

*shudders*

So let’s see if I can blog about something other than jewelry tonight, hmm? This week has been interesting. First off, my husband has been gone the entire week, 9 hours away… I’m not cool with that! I miss him, and I hate when he’s so far away. His job is a huge blessing, but sometimes it just plain stinks.

I turn 27 next Wednesday, and I’m not cool with that. I’m almost 30, childless, and still have someone go with me to the doctor or dentist so I don’t have a panic attack right in the middle of it. This is not how I imagined my life would be.

Speaking of dentist and doctor… I have a new cavity. I can see it. One of my teeth filled earlier in the year has suddenly become hypersensitive to temperature. I’m due for a cleaning next month, so I’ll take care of them then I suppose. I’m NOT COOL WITH THAT. It doesn’t matter how well I take care of them, they still stink.

I need to gain about 20 lbs, and my doctor wants me to go on a crazy med. I feel completely safe calling it a crazy med because, you know, I am crazy and I accept it… so I’m entitled to call it a crazy med. ;oP Paxil CR. It scares the poop out of me, and I haven’t entirely decided if I’m crazy enough to try it. One day I think, “hmm, ok… I’ll give it a shot” and the next I’m thinking, “umm, HECK NO”. They think it will help me relax enough to eat better and gain weight. The thing is, there isn’t a medical cure for phobias. All it will do is make me numb. I don’t want to be numb, I’d rather be terrified. And as soon as I got off of the drug, I’d be terrified again, so what’s the point? It’s not very safe to take while pregnant, so if I do take it, I’d either have to forget the idea of getting pregnant (which, at this point, doesn’t seem like that big of a deal since I’m thinking it’s just not going to happen anyway… it’s been two years… it’s not looking good. Oh and did I mention the sr. doctor saying that I’d probably miscarry anyway because I’m 20 lbs underweight? Thanks, doc.) or take the (slim) chance of getting pregnant and having to wean off the drug immediately, which can be, well, a nightmare with the withdrawals.

Well, I surprised both my doctor and the senior doctor when my bloodwork came back perfect. They suspected malnutrition and anemia, but nope, everything is perfect. Even my B-12 (I’m a vegetarian, so I do supplement that). Of course, not being anemic, I now do not have an explanation for why I’m so tired all the time. But at least I don’t have to worry about miscarrying a child from being malnourished. Count your blessings, right?

I’m down one mole. I had it cut off Wednesday. This is the little one that changed colors. She’s pretty sure there’s nothing to be worried about, but wanted to test it for peace of mind, and instead of just doing a biopsy, I opted to have it cut off. Yeaaaaahhh. Not sure that was the best idea! No one told me there would be stitches involved. I guess that’s probably common knowledge, but um, hello, I’ve never had any kind of surgical procedure performed on my body so I would have appreciated that little gem ahead of time. ;o) Two stitches, my first ever. On my belly. Do you know how hard it is to function without moving your belly? Yeah, doesn’t happen. So, it it doesn’t hurt too much after the first night, but sometime during that night, my stitched up mole hole decides to start bleeding and doesn’t stop for 24 hrs. Now this is probably not an earth shattering event, unless you’re a 27 yr old home alone childless phobic pessimistic hypochondriac. (Told you I am crazy.) I woke up Thursday morning and promptly checked the mole hole, saw that the band aid had completely soaked with blood, ripped it off (ouch, by the way) and started shaking. There was this… thing… hanging out between the two stitches. Now, I knew better, but I swear it looked like a piece of tissue hanging out of me. The sight of my first ever stitches with a… thing… hanging out of it was enough to cause panic. I called my ex-nurse mom and begged her to look at it. “It’s fine” she says. “No, it’s not fine… I’m going out anyway to buy a torch (another day, another blog) so I’m coming over, and you’re looking at it…” Of course, it is fine, and of course she confirmed that it was just a semi-dried blood clot like the remaining non-crazy part of my brain knew, and not my, you know, spleen hanging out or something (which would be a medical marvel considering the spleen is on the opposite side from my mole hole). So I go buy my torch and a new tube of Neosporin (my old one expired a few months ago, and that just won’t fly) and a box of way too huge non-stick gauze pads and some waterproof band aids (FYI, not good on raw skin).

I slap a new band aid on the mole hole and go on my merry way. I might ought to mention that when the old band aid was removed, the… thing… was removed with it. Yay. A little while later, the new band aid is completely soaked with blood. So I call my mom again, and “it’s fine, but call the doctor”. So I call the doctor and wait a couple hours for them to call back and tell me to apply pressure with a band aid and if it doesn’t stop by morning, to call again. So I apply THREE band aids and lay down to take a nap. About an hour later I wake up and my white t-shirt has three large spots on it. Large BLOOD SPOTS. I’M NOT COOL WITH THAT. Call mom again, freak out again. She assures me that it will not bleed forever. I worry about having to go back in to the doctor to get more stitches. A little while later, dad brings me some big honkin’ band aids left over from when he had abdominal surgery last year. My poor skin is totally raw by now from the ripping off of band aids. I put on the big honkin’ band aid and go to bed early, praying and praying that it will stop bleeding. I woke up this morning with the big honkin’ band aid soaked with blood. *sigh* I ripped it off (*YEEEOOOWWWCHH*) and look, and lo and behold, the mole hole has stopped bleeding. It’s a miracle! I have been looking down at it all day, fully expecting the bandage to be soaked with blood, but so far not another drop (that I can tell). So, try as it may, the mole hole did not bleed me dry. *whew* I’ll tell you one thing. All the rest of my moles? They’re just going to stay right where God put them. I figure He in His infinite wisdom put them there for a darn good reason and if He wants them gone, He’s quite capable of doing it without stitches. Long live the moles.

So what do you do at 2am on a Saturday night? I was hammering! These were sooo fun to make. There’s nothing like beating the yahoo out of a piece of wire, lemme tell you. It’s a great way to get out all those frustrations! And the result is a cool and fun piece of jewelry. ) I will definitely be trying these in sterling, and I might even *gasp* play around with my soldering stuff!

Sorry I haven’t been posting too much lately. My life is sort of all jewelry all the time at the moment, but hopefully soon I’ll get back to posting some non-metallic posts.