Getting Back to Normal

Or as close to normal as our house gets. 

Estes is getting better every day, though she's still awfully skinny.  I didn't know that one of the early signs of sand colic is sudden weight loss - she always drops a lot of weight about this time each year, so when the weight came off, we didn't even think of sand colic.  In retrospect, she's probably built up a bit of sand in her gut every year and has just been lucky enough in the past not to colic from it.  I'm hopeful that once we get her gut cleared out (only another couple of days of psyllium) she'll start gaining weight again.  Right now, she looks like we've starved her even though she's been getting more food than the others for a month or so now.

I was gone from the gym for a week.  It was completely unintended.  El Poquito Diablo and I met the Wednesday before Estes colicked; I had to work all day on Thursday; my Friday fell apart and I didn't make it; Saturday, I shot the Steel Challenge and went to the Corn Roast Festival with RockCrawlinChef and then Sunday the shit hit the fan.  Or not, actually.  There was no shitting going on with Estes, which was a big part of the problem.  Long story short, it was a full week that I hadn't stepped foot in the gym.  I was afraid of the damage that I'd done with not working out and stress eating M&Ms.

Imagine my surprise when we did my measurements and I was down two pounds and 2/10th of an inch off my rear end.  I guess all that walking between the pen, the Lodge and the Livery burned a calorie or two after all.

I'm back in the gym on a more regular basis now and feeling so much better.  I'm starting to feel the changes in my body.  I've lost 26#, but I didn't feel like my body shape was changing much - it was just getting smaller.  Now, I can feel that my shape is actually changing.  In videos of me shooting last week, I actually have forearm muscles!  It's an interesting feeling, feeling body parts shifting and changing, but I'm not going to complain.

This morning in boot camp, I actually sprinted!  And was leading the suicides we were running.  Until I couldn't breathe.  Dang I hate that.  It was painfully obvious that I am the sprinter of the family, while Nebalee is the distance runner.  I ran fast and peaked early.  Nebalee kept a steady pace and was able to finish while I was praying the wall would continue to hold me upright.

Catch-up Summary Post

I had mentally written individual blog posts for all of this, but ran out of time to get it all done, so here's a summary of the GunDiva/RockCrawlinChef household for the last couple of weeks.

Anniversary Gifts
Remember, a couple of weeks ago, when I posted about the perfect gift?  Lucky for RCC, he loved it more than he would have loved the mixer.

I got him the video camera he's been drooling over for a while now. 

It's a GoPro camera, specific for motorsports.  He's already used it to film a trip up to the Lodge and has big plans for it.

As for his anniversary gift to me - he caught me completely by surprise.  I was hoping for a Bosu, and you all know how much I heart the Bosu.  I didn't get one, but I'm not one bit disappointed.  What I got instead was a takeda cold air intake for Ripley. 

Now, I know it sounds like an odd anniversary gift, but I'm really having a good time with Ripley's mods.  Not only did it increase my horsepower and torque, but has already increased my gas mileage by three mpg.  Maybe once the new-ness wears off and I can keep outta the throttle, I'll see a bigger increase in gas mileage.

Ashinator Made It!
It was touch-and-go there for a while, but Ashinator pulled it out and graduated from high school.  I am so impressed with her artistic side, but that artistic side almost got her in trouble.  She focuses so much and puts so much energy into her photography, which is absolutely incredible, that she doesn't put a whole lot of effort into her core classes.  In true Ashinator form, she buckled down the last week of school and brought her grades up enough to walk.

Her graduation was at eight a.m.  Who on earth plans a graduation so blasted early in the morning?  Yeah, that would explain the ginormous bags under my eyes, but Ashinator looked amazing (as usual).

Grandma?  Not so much.
Can we say false alarm?  Cowgirl had her first "real" prenatal visit on Monday and turns out she's not pregnant, nor was she.  Despite my reservations about becoming a Grandma, my heart is broken for Digger, who had wholeheartedly embraced the idea of being a father.

Unfortunately, the news destroyed their relationship.  My fear was that they were getting married because of the baby even though they both denied it.  Turns out that's exactly why they were getting married.  No baby, no marriage.  Digger's gut feeling is that Cowgirl lied to him on purpose about being pregnant, as their relationship was on the rocks and they were all but broken up before she "found out".  I'm not sure what to think.  There were some inconsistencies about her pregnancy right at the beginning, but they were easily explained.  I don't know that she had any reason to lie or to go to such an extreme extent (scheduling a prenatal visit).  I think that she truly believed she was pregnant.

Monster's Sixteen
Yep, my baby turned sixteen.  It hasn't sunk in yet. Why is it that every time I look at him, all I see is my baby?  He's forever stuck at about four in my brain.  I just want to gather him up in my arms and not let him go.  Ever.  Being a teenager, he's not thrilled about that idea.  So I'll just have to rely on my memories of when he was much younger and a total cuddlebug.

Stalled Out
I've increased my workouts to five days a week, with two-a-days on two of those days.  Gymnastics Boy, who has now chosen the name Poquito Diablo, has embraced the challenge of getting me fit for Top Shot and has a whole new arsenal of torture. 

Still...I haven't dropped an ounce since May 6.  I'm slowly losing inches, but the weight isn't going anywhere.  My bloodwork from the 9HealthFair showed that I'm hypothyroidic and my fabulous Nurse Practitioner started me on thyroid meds.  Let's hope it helps me break this plateau.

RCC Wins Husband of the Year!

I knew RockCrawlinChef was up to something, but I had no idea what it was.  He's been cagey for the last couple of days, but I had no idea why.

Tonight, he wandered outside for a few minutes and then told me to come out to see what he was working on.

I was perplexed when he told me to stand about five feet behind Ripley.  He reached in the car and put his hand on the brake pedal.  This is what I saw...

Is that the coolest brake light ever?  It's even better than personalized plates (and costs a whole heap less!).

He found out about them here at SoulHamsters.com in their 3rd brake light decals.  Cool, huh?

You Know What?

I'm awfully damn lucky.

I've been fairly cranky for the last couple of weeks.  Same old story - overworked and underpaid.  Or too much to do and not enough time to do it.  Sometimes it's easy to fall into the "woe is me" mentality and it takes a smack to the head something to break the cycle.

My eye-opener occurred the other day when I was in the shower.  I was mentally reviewing a series of emails I had with Lee Lofland, the brains behind Writers' Police Academy and started mentally writing the post for The GunDivas about WPA, when it dawned on me...I'm awfully damn lucky. 

I've got an amazing husband who doesn't mind that I'm planning on running down to North Carolina in September to attend WPA.  I didn't even ask if it was okay; I said, "hey, Honey, I'm going to WPA again this year."  Would it have been more polite to ask instead of tell him I was going?  Yes.  But he truly doesn't mind if I go.

I asked him last year if he minded that I had trips planned without him and he told me that he managed to live without me for thirty-some years, he wasn't going to shrivel up and die over a few days.  I know of several couples who have been married for a long time who can't stand for one or the other to be gone.  I don't know if it's co-dependency or lack of trust, but I've seen some pretty nasty fights and I'm glad that it's not a problem for us.

And then there's how he supports my job.  It sucks (I love it, but the hours suck).  I work fifty-plus hours a week most weeks, and I'm trying to add in work-outs at least three days a week.  Now that it's Health Fair season, I'm also teaching on Saturdays, so one of the few days that we have together is shot.  Today, he catered lunch for my students, making a fajita bar for their lunch so I wouldn't have to order pizza.  He'll do the same thing for my class next Saturday.

It's not like he's got a ton of free time himself; he's working two jobs and going to school full-time, yet is fully supportive of anything that I want to do.

I am awfully damn lucky.

I just hope that he feels the same way, and that I can support him in his interests and work as much as he supports me.

Anti-Valentine's Day

RockCrawlinChef and I don't celebrate Valentine's Day.

I know that shocks a lot of people.  For years, I both dreaded and anticipated Valentine's Day.  I dreaded it because I *hated* all of the hype and the "you're nothing unless someone's head over heels in love with you and draping you in diamonds" bullshit that goes along with it.  I anticipated it because it finally meant that the season of torture was over.  In case you hadn't noticed (and if you're single, I'll bet you've noticed), single people are tormented from mid-October all the way through Valentine's Day.  Everything's love this, family that.  If you're single, every damn commercial is a slap in the face. 

Bah!

After RCC and I became "us", and our first Valentine's Day together approached, we decided we weren't going to celebrate it.  And we haven't.  Instead, we celebrate our Anti-Valentine's Day (also known as our "Eye Contact" Anniversary) on February 16.  This year will be our third.  Because we're both working that day, we sort of celebrated last night by buying a new TV, as ours is mostly dead.

I think it still makes him a little nervous that I tell him I don't want to celebrate Valentine's Day.  I mean, men are conditioned that they have to remember it, even if their woman says not to.  I actually mean it.  I'm not doing anything for him for the over-priced Hallmark Holiday and I don't want him to do anything for me.

Instead, we'll spend the evening after work enjoying our new TV.

Say "Cheese"!

I got a wild hair a couple of months ago after watching Chefs vs. City and decided I wanted to make mozzarella as Christmas gifts.  Lucky for me, I married a chef who has made mozzarella more times than he can count when he was working at a hotel.

He won't let me make the curds, though.  Something about curds and whey don't appeal to him.

I had to order the curds instead. *pout*  But since RCC knows me so well, he's probably correct in thinking that I'll gross right out making my own cheese curds.


So, this afternoon, we'll be picking up 10# of mozzarella curds and hauling it up to the lodge for a cheese making day tomorrow.

Wish me luck!

I *Can* Cook

Though to hear my kids tell, not well.  Whatever.  They wouldn't eat anything but macaroni and cheese and Ramen noodles anyway.

When Mrs Mom and her husband and the BrownEyed Cowgirls visited last weekend, I stole RCC's chicken parmesean recipe and attempted it all by my lonesome.  Lest you all say you don't believe it, here is the photographic evidence.

Okay, so I'm not a food photographer; it doesn't look as good as it tasted.  I surprised even myself pulling this off.  I told RCC over and over again not to worry about it, I couldn't screw it up too badly (even though I didn't truly believe that I could do it without screwing up).  You know the phrase, "fake it 'til you make it"?  Yeah, that's exactly what I did.

I've always made RCC make this before, but since he taught me how to do it, I can now do it whenever I feel like it!

Epiploic Appendagitis Sucks

Say what?

Epiploic appendages (or appendices) are fat pouches from the peritoneum (the sac lining the abdominal cavity) that are just a few centimeters long and are are commonly found along the transverse and sigmoid colon.  I vaguely remember learning about them in anatomy a million years ago in college.  They weren't important, so I put them out of my mind.

Fast forward from college anatomy to last night.  RCC's been complaining of left lower quadrant pain since Sunday.  He'd been working on his Jeep Saturday and there is *nothing* in the left lower quadrant of males other than intestines, so we both chalked up his pain to a pulled abdominal muscle. 

By Tuesday morning, his pain had increased to a 7 out of 10 (10 being "please put a bullet in my brain" pain), but he went to work anyway and I told him we'd go to the doctor when he got home from work.

He pulled into the college about 3pm yesterday, pale as a ghost.  It was easy to tell that his pain had gotten much worse.  So much worse that he didn't argue with me about going to Urgent Care.  By this time, I'm thinking hernia, but the pain was totally and completely in the wrong area for a hernia.  His pain was more where an ovary in a female would be, and that's no where near a typical hernia site.

They got us in quickly at Urgent Care; the doc took one look at him, poked and prodded around and immediately sent us to the ER for blood work and a CT scan.  She was thinking that maybe RCC had diverticulitis, despite his age.  Diverticulitis is more commonly seen in older patients, not young 'uns in their mid-30s.

So, off to the ER we went, paperwork in hand.  They processed us fairly quickly and the Physician Assistant came in to see us.  She poked and prodded around on RCC, quickly raising his pain level with her manipulations.  She tried to hide it, but she was perplexed, too.  Left lower quadrant pain in a male that *probably* wasn't a hernia or diverticulitis. 

RCC's pain, despite IV Morphine Sulfate, was hovering around a 4 while he was laying down (unless I was making him laugh - I tell you, I was one witty beast last night, but now can't remember anything I said).

Side note:  I have to tell you, I wasn't happy with someone else messing around with "my" boys.  I've been in medicine a long time and I understand how to check for an inguinal hernia, but that didn't mean I liked it one bit that another woman was telling my hubby to drop his drawers and doing the ole turn-and-cough routine.  When she left and I told RCC that, he burst out laughing and crying.  Laughing because I didn't like it and crying because laughing jumped his pain to a 10.

Even after the hernia check was negative, she was still concerned about it.  Abdominal wall hernias aren't unheard of, after all.  His symptoms matched both an abdominal hernia and diverticulitis.  Off to CT we went.
I've sent lots of patients to CT; have scheduled them, done the allergy checklist, have peeked over my doc's shoulder to look at them, but I've never actually seen a CT being done.  That is some cool-ass shit.  It's like Star Trek medicine and didn't take hardly any time at all.

Back to the room we went to await the CT results.

Side note #2:  I love my Nook.  I took it along to the hospital with me and the three hours or so we spent there just flew by.  I may be doing a review of my Nook (codename: Eloise) soon.

When the PA came back with the diagnosis, it was obvious that she had to look it up, too.  Epiploic Appendagitis.  Inflammation of an epiploic appendage.  Presents just like diverticulitis (well, no duh), but without the infection and the outpouching of the colon wall.

Great.  We know what is is now, what do we do about it?

Nothing.

Tincture of time and Vicodin for pain.

Should resolve on its own.

Good and bad news.  Good news: no scalpel, no surgery.  Bad news: tincture of time sucks.

So does epiploic appendagitis.

Side note #3:  I completely understand why PVHS has won so many awards in recent years.  The care was awesome.

True Story Tuesday: A Shocking Story

As always, thank you to Rachel and Mr. Daddy for hosting this little weekly fun fest.

A month or so after RockCrawlinChef and I got engaged we were still twitterpated and all kissy-face all the time.  It didn't matter where we were, we were always sneaking kisses.  It was pretty disgusting.  Good God, we'd become one of "those" couples. 

*Gag*

We were in the grocery store and it was a really dry day; like negative humidity, the kind that just breeds static.  We'd both been shocked repeatedly from the cart alone.  It was to the point of being ridiculous - I don't recall ever building up so much static just pushing a darn shopping cart.  I got shocked one last time and decided that I wasn't going to let go of the cart; RCC would have to put whatever we wanted into it and I was going to keep both hands on the cart so I wouldn't get shocked anymore.

Well, it seemed like a good idea.

We were walking down the paper goods aisle, which was deserted, and decided to sneak a little smooch.

RCC leaned in, I tilted my head up. And BAM!  We didn't even make contact, but I'd built up so much static electricity pushing the cart that the electricity arced from my nose to his.  We jumped apart like we'd both been hit with a cattle prod.  I felt that shock all the way through my nose and into my upper lip.  My eyes welled up with tears and when I looked at him rubbing his nose, I saw that it had the same effect on him. 

I'm sure the other shoppers wondered what happened over in the toilet paper aisle to cause all of the loud cursing and laughing.  When we stopped cursing and laughing and wiped the tears from our eyes, we took a look at each other's nose.  Sure enough, we both had a red burn on the tips of our noses that lasted for days.

We've since learned to ground ourselves before getting too kissy-face and the paper goods aisle holds no interest for us at all anymore.

Two Year Meetiversary

I pulled into the parking lot of Barnes and Noble a ten minutes before we'd agreed to meet.

And stayed in the car, staring at the entrance.

What if he doesn't show up?  He's the one who suggested this place.  But what if what's going on with Monster was enough to scare him off?  I should just go home.  I'm a mess, I have no business here.

I stared at the front entrance some more.  Then stared at the clock in my dashboard.  Then stared at the entrance.  I may have thrown up a little bit too.  My hand reached for the door and then dropped back into my lap.

What are you thinking?  Get moving!  I can't.  What if he's an asshole?  What if he's a really great guy, but he hates me?  Get moving!  Am I insane?  Damn, should have worked harder on losing some weight.

I stared at the front entrance some more, watching people go in and out.  There was no one pacing on the sidewalk, looking as nervous as I felt.

What if he stands me up?

I watched some more people go in and out of the entrance.  My hand crept toward the door again.  I actually managed to touch the door handle before my hand fell into my lap.

How am I going to recognize him?  I've only seen pictures and I'm lousy about faces.  Shit!  I hadn't thought of that.  How will I know it's him?

Oh, for Christ's Sake, girl, put your big girl panties on and Let's Do This!

I took a deep breath, grabbed the door handle, threw the door open and got out of the car before my mind could figure out what my body was doing.  I closed the door, leaned against it and maybe threw up a little again.

Now what?  Stop stalling and just go!

Once my body was freed from the confines of the car, it seemed to know what to do.  One foot in front of the other across the parking lot and up onto the sidewalk.  A quick glance in the window.

Oh my God!  There he is!

All I could see was his back, but I knew it was him.  I gained confidence as I entered the doors and turned to my left.  There he was, walking toward me with a long-stemmed red rose in his hand.  We hugged forever and I felt him shaking like a leaf.

Poor guy, he's in worse shape than I am.

When he spoke, even his voice shook.  We found a table near the coffee shop and started talking.  I couldn't take my eyes off of his; the shirt he was wearing made his green eyes look blue, and his eyelashes were unbelievably long.  I was jealous of those eyelashes.  I even noticed his nose - people pay a lot of money to have a nose like his.  Who notices stuff like that?  Someone who's head-over-heels for a guy she'd only ever "spoken to" via email.

He shook for an hour.  We talked about everything under the sun.  I fantasized about curling up on a couch with him.  He was a cuddle bug, I could tell just by looking.

Four hours later, we both agreed that it was time to part.

An hour after that, we actually left the store.  He said he had something for me in his truck, so I went out the back way with him.  He checked out my ass.  He denies it; I felt it.  At his truck, he reached in and handed me a picture he had drawn of me and Meeker.

He leaned in for the kiss, chickened out, and gave me a goodbye hug instead.

Back in my car, I felt something I hadn't in a long time.  Hope.  Despite having "hope" tattoo'd on my ankle, it was hard to hold onto.

~~~

Hard to believe that was March 22, 2008, two years ago today.  Seems like we've spent our whole lives together.

I love you, Sexy Man.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tomorrow's the big Two-Oh-Oh! 

Come join in the fun and maybe you'll win one of my favorite things!

~~~~~~~~~~
Head on over to Jack Sh*t, Gettin' Fit for some funny weight loss stories -
One of them is mine!

Voyeurism Via Email

Gotcha!

Now that I've got your attention, I'm guest posting today over at T!nK's place, This Is How It Feels.  He's taking a little bloggy vacation and asked some of his blogging buddies to contribute a love story of their own.

My contribution isn't exactly a love story, but it is the story of the first time I met the RockCrawlinChef in real life; it's an email that I sent to my friends after our first meeting.  I'm pretty sure after six weeks of emailing multiple times a day and our initial meeting, I was head-over-heels in love with the Chef, but couldn't admit it to myself. 

Hop on over to T!nK's if you're just dying to see how screwed-up, mixed-up, I-don't-know-which-end-is-up I was over meeting him for the first time.

True Story Tuesday

Thanks to Rachel and Mr. Daddy over at Once Upon A Miracle for giving me a platform to share this.  Be sure to hop on over to their blog and link up to play along.

This is the sign that greeted us when I hauled RockCrawlinChef's banged up and bruised cookies into Urgent Care on Sunday...

I've been in medicine a long time and I've never come across "Fly Symptoms", unless they look something like this...

Nor do I know what "Sinus Symptons" are.  D'ya s'pose sinus symptons are 2,000 sinus symptoms?

Nor have I ever come across "Upper Respitory Symptoms", and believe me, as a mom of boys, I'm pretty sure that if there was such a thing as a spit symptom (actually, spit would be a sign, but we've already been down that route) I'd've heard about it.

We're not even going to talk about the exuberant use of exclamation points or the missing apostrophes (or the incomplete sentences).

RockCrawlinChef took one look at the sign, looked at me and asked, "And I'm supposed to trust these people?"  I assured him that the physician probably didn't write it, 'cause if he/she did, it would be illegible.

The Rest Of The Story

I made RockCrawlinChef go to Urgent Care, as I said in my earlier post, and he's fine (which I knew) and they gave him Flexeril (I didn't even have to threaten them for it).  No Vicodin, though, and I'm okay with that.  He seems to be managing his pain well with just 800mg ibuprofen.

Turns out, the accident wasn't exactly a rollover (Thank God), but more of a tip-over.

He and Partner were on the highway, which thanks to Mother Nature, was an ice skating rink.  They were only doing about 45mph and as they crested a hill, Partner saw brake lights, so he lightly tapped his brakes, hoping to slow down before they got to the cars at the bottom of the hill.  When he tapped his brakes, the backend of the truck started to slide out from behind them.  They ended up sliding sideways into the median, tearing it up pretty good.  The truck came to a stop sideways in the median, but the momentum carried the top of the truck right on over and they ended up on the driver's side.  They managed to miss everything: mile markers, guard rails, and median dividers.

A state patrolman was northbound on the other side of the highway and saw the whole thing happen.  RCC says that the patrolman was standing in front of the truck looking through the windshield almost before they'd come to a complete stop.  Partner immediately got out of his seatbelt and stood up, but RCC's seatbelt was locked up with his weight, so he was stuck in his seat on his left side.  Partner was able to get his shoulder up under RCC's hip and lift him enough that they could release the seatbelt and RCC could scramble up to standing.

Now, the thing is, armored trucks are made so that no one can get into them.  Which means that no one can get into them if there's an accident and they need help.  Luckily, RCC and Partner weren't that hurt.  But the doors on the trucks are heavy and they weren't really in a good position to get them open.  You know, one door was under them and the other was over their heads.  The driver has control over the doors, so it took RCC crawling up under the door, throwing the combat latch and heaving it open while Partner released the other lock.  Apparently, RCC had to stand on the side of the seat, put his back to the door and use his legs and back to lift it up and hold it open while Partner climbed up and out of the cab.  Partner then held the door so that RCC could get out.

RockCrawlinChef escaped with nothing more than bumps and bruises and Partner ended up with a small (less than 1") laceration from falling items in the cab.  I can honestly say that all's well that ends well, for that seems to be true.

Side note to Partner: the rubber side is supposed to be down!

Oh. My. God.

I had planned a cute litte post about the additions to our zoo, but before I could get there, I noticed that I'd missed a couple of phone calls from RockCrawlinChef, who had to work today.  My Chef doesn't currently work in a restaurant, though he's got the itch to go back.  No, he's an Armed Service Tech, aka Armed Courier, who works for a national armored car company, picking up and distributing money between banks and businesses. 

The fact that I'd missed three phone calls didn't bode well and I called him back, expecting news like "It took us forever on the shuttle, so I won't be home until late" or possibly good news, "We're making good time, so I'll be home early."

What I got instead, stopped my heart.

"Hey Babe, just wanted to let you know I'm okay."

"Uh..." I'm okay just means that something went wrong.  Of course, I know that his job comes with risks, but he's armed and good with his gun, but still...

"We were in a..." Please God don't say robbery.  Don't say it, don't say it. "Rollover."

Is it wrong to be relieved that it was *only* a rollover?  People are killed in rollovers, but I was immediately relieved.  If he was okay enough to call me three times, he was really okay.

He and his partner are both okay, though Partner's got a laceraction from flying debris in the cab of the truck.  RockCrawlinChef's back is sore and he was checked out by the paramedics at the scene, but I'm making him go to Urgent Care as soon as he gets home.  If his back is sore already, he's going to need some Flexeril (and honestly, I hate to admit it, probably some Vicodin) to get throught the night, 'cause once those back spasms hit in full force when the adrenaline's gone from his body, he's going to be in agony.

If thing's can go right in an accident, they did in this one.  They were on their way to pick up money, so the truck was empty.  Since the truck was empty, Chef was riding up front with Partner, rather than in the back in the messenger seat.  The messenger seat is the most dangerous seat in the vehicle because none of the "liability" is secured, so in an accident, the messenger is subjected to flying debris that basically becomes shrapnel.  Oh, sure, the messenger seat is surrounded by a "cage", but the cage doesn't stop all of the coin, it just scatters it like a shotgun into the messenger.

Also, because they didn't have any liability aboard, they were able to take care of themselves after the accident, rather than having to guard the liability.

To be continued...