Not My Usual Posting Hour

It's 2:12 am.

I've started a load of laundry, and folded a load of towels. I put the last few dessert plates in the dishwasher and ran it. I've looked at Sarah's latest pictures. And here I am.

Yesterday, which still feels like today, was busy. I won't bore you with details. By 7:45 I couldn't hold my eyes open any longer. I went to bed and crashed. Hard. Hence the unfinished evening chores.

But now! I'm very awake. Add in cramping and acid reflux, and we'll have a party.

About 10 days ago I had another test. I ate radioactive scrambled eggs (prepared in a microwave, ugh) and a big glass of orange juice, and then 'they' watched my digestion, looking for delay.

They found it. And since the diagnosis was given over the phone by the nurse, everything I know about Gastroparesis is what I've found on the internet.

My stomach delays digestion, because the Vagus nerve has been damaged, probably because of my blood sugar issues.

Last weekend I started another prescription, this one not covered by insurance, and only carried at some little out-of-the-way pharmacy in Provo, ringing up at $54.

Domperidone is supposed to tell my stomach to digest, and has some glamorous side effects. I'm happy to report that so far, so good. But domperidone is often used to help nursing women lactate. Lucky me. But no, I am not producing milk. Yet.

Is this the conclusion of months of tests and achy gut? I don't know. A friend in my ward is trying to convince me that I need more tests.

I wake up at 3am every morning. Every now and then I go right back to sleep. Rarely.

I hate to think of the ramblings that might show up here if there are any more 3am postings.

Returning to the World of Literature

When I was younger, I was a reader.

When I was 10(ish) to 13, I remember reading everything and anything, some age-appropriate, some not. I loved the Ramona books, the Judy Blume books, and the Little House on the Prairie books, and eventually the teeny-bopper books.

I quickly moved on to more advanced books. Cannery Row, The Good Earth, Lord of the Flies, Animal Farm, (ahem) Thorn Birds, just to name a few. Somewhere in there was Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.

Since then: zero. Nada. Zilch. Nothing.

Okay, maybe a couple of books, but no more than a few.

You know how it is when you're a wife and mom, there's no time. For anything.

The once or twice that I did get in to a book, all else ceased to exist around me until I'd read the entire book. House work waited, the kids had to fend for themselves. Not too fair to the little ones.

Isaac had a book report due this Thursday (my birthday, of all days, lucky me). Picking out the book was a chore, and was put off until the last minute. It had to be fairy-tale or fantasy, but never made in to a movie. When I suggested one book that resides in our collection, he said "No! That's Realistic Fiction."

I finally found one that qualified: The Magician's Nephew, which is the first in the Narnia series. With much nagging from mom, he was able to get through it in about 6 days.

I decided that since a poster and puppets were to be turned in for this project, I should know our material, and I started the first book I'd read in a long time.

I'm surprised, but pleased to say that I finished the book today. I wasn't terribly thrilled with the first half, but loved the second. If these Narnia books really are Christian-based, there are some touching moments in this story.

What next? Should I FINALLY take on the Harry Potter series? Should I continue with Narnia? I have been dabbling in (and should finish) 7 Habits/Teenagers (which I highly recommend).

There are the two 'red' classics that I've never gotten to: Where the Red Fern Grows and Red Badge of Courage. Maybe I'll start with those.

One thing for sure: no Shakespeare.

T Minus 26

The arrangements have been made. We're coming home for Christmas.

In 26 days.

And it's going to be a long 26 days.

As I go about life here in Utah, 600 miles from home, I keep my guard way up. It's a requirement. I have to fight off the homesickness.

But now, after surviving the arrival of a new nephew two states away, and after surviving yet another Thanksgiving away from all of you, I need to get through the next 26 days.

I can tell my heart is softening. I got teary during the intermediate hymn during Sacrament meeting. It's one that gets stuck in my dad's head and he sings it around the house for a couple of days straight.

My kids are homesick too. Every conversation revolves around Grammy. And I think Maddie and Paige are up to 4 phone calls a day.

Inevitably, December will fill up. It always does. Maddie has a choir concert on the 5th. The ward party with cook-off is the 14th.

I will have distractions. Other things will help me to not dwell on home.

But home will be the biggest distraction of all.

Spending the Holidays With Friends

I hope you've had a great Thanksgiving!

I'm still full, but I could totally go for some more stuffing, turkey, gravy, and mashed potatoes. It's not even about the pumpkin pie anymore. I should have had Seconds for dessert. But let's face it, it wouldn't be Seconds. More like Twenty-Seconds.

Gone are the days of the fabulous Thanksgiving episodes of F*R*I*E*N*D*S to help us digest our turkey, except in the world of re-runs. God bless re-runs.

In honor of the beloved Monica, Rachel, Phoebe, Chandler, Joey and Ross, some of my favorite Thanksgiving lines (in no particular order):

"Please don't fire me for doing this."

"You've got Nevada twice." "I know."

"Joey, those are my maternity pants."

"This turkey is my Everest."

Hands down, best ever: "Take off your shirt and tell us."

He's Here!

But I'm not.

Mister Elijah arrived yesterday, only 20 minutes after his mom got to the hospital.

It's rough...trying to do this long distance. But I totally call Shotgun on the baby for December 23(ish) through January 7.

Under My Skin

Why am I so bugged?

Everyone is on my nerves. Except you, of course.

I'm just.......bugged.

Students. Co-workers. People. Utah drivers.

Bugged.

I don't like feeling like this. I don't set out to find other people's faults. I have plenty of my own. So why does it feel like there's so much around me?

Is it the holidays? Probably.

Is it the weather? Dunno.

Is it because I can't come home this week? A little.

Is it the gas prices? Surely.

I guess it's also because I'm feeling better enough to care and notice what's happening around me. Maybe it's because now I'm feeling up to dealing with some things, but not all of it.

So, as I've worked through this here on the page, it turns out that I'm not really bugged with the world, I'm bugged with myself and the things I need to change, fix, clean, accomplish, buy, etc.

Apparently Anxiety is the next level after Bugged.

With Gas Back Up Over $3/Gallon...

Is it just me or when seeing the grand total after filling up your gas tank do you think 'that could have been a pair of jeans'?