It wasn't a Halloween spider...

Do you remember that Bare Naked Ladies song that had a line-- "There's a spider in the room?". If not, that's reasonable. It was a song far into the album and definately not one of the popular songs. Anyway-- last night that line became, "There's a spider in my bed..."
Seriously.
I went to move a pillow so I could snuggle in under the covers and there is was- a giant eat-your-face spider right in the middle of my mattress. I am not ashamed to say that I screamed.
Then ran into the kitchen and grabbed a paper towel, squished that spider and promptly had to change my sheets. And those spider sheets could not stay in my room. No way, Jose! I had to go outside to the laundry and stuff them into the washer for prompt washing in the morning.
And of course, as I walked into the laundry area, I walked into a spider web! It was dark and I had on a dark sweatshirt, so I have no idea if the spider landed on me or what. shivers...
At that point, I started to strip and threw the clothes in the same wash and ran inside to wash off any potential spiders. Blech! I really, really hope no one was watching!
I have now learned that I must actually make my bed each and everyday. At least if the bed is made, the spiders will not be on my sheets.
Ugh!

Disease: unknown

In my ever-present fight against my random disease, today I had a check in the win column. Well, sort of.
Let me explain.
I am not a passive person. I'm not mean, but have been told that I am direct and honest. I blame my parents. ;) Actually I don't think it's a bad thing. I mean sure I may have hurt some feelings here and there, but no permanant damage done. I'm generally nice, even in my bluntness.
This non-passive part of my personality plays a huge part in my disease-fighting adventure. And I call it an adevnture because it is ever-changing. You never know what's going to happen, so everyday is an adventure.
The latest as I have posted about previously, is that I've had what I will call some episodes that have basically flat-llined me for a day. And then again for another day. Days where I thought I could die because I hurt so much. Days where I could not function like a normal person of my age. Uncool.
I discussed those days with my current bone ologist and she didn't respond in a way that I felt was okay. Not knowing is okay. My disease is very hard to understand. And it's not just her. I have been called a walking science experiment more times than I care to admit and she referred to my stuff as just weird. Perplexing. Odd. None of those things is what a patient wants to hear, but it's my normal.
Following my last appointment, I made the choice to seek out another opinion. Someone new to look at all the bloodwork and the symptoms and my case. He has an incredible reputation and specializes in autoimmune conditions. Super!
As of today the old bone ologist is fired (the non-passive part of me). While she's nice, I found someone I like better. Whom I think may actually do a better job in my treatment.
Although no major changes were made and no definitive diagnosis was made- he gave me some options. And threw out some possibilities.
In fact today I found out that the wrinkles appearing around my eyes and forehead (thanks, papa!) are a good, good thing. If they weren't there he was headed down a rather sacry possible path. Score one for wrinkles!
He also checked out my Grandma Schulte knees and said while some of the shape may be genetic, there is actually something wrong. Something to fix.
And although he didn't have answers or solutions today, he provided the thing that has been missing for awhile: Hope.
Hope that a new medication may stop the degeneration of my bones.
Hope that someday there will be a morning I won't wake up stiff and swollen.
Hope that someday my normal will be more aligned with others my age.
Hope.
It's a little word that has so much meaning. A word and feeling I am glad to have back in my life.

Six words this week.

Today while researching a school paper, I came across this random project called the Six-word Memoir. As a person who probably uses more words than she should, I thought this might be a random new weekly theme to add to this space. So starting today, each Monday I'll post my six word memoir for the week.

This week-- Can I hide under the covers?

Dr. Funk

This past week I was in Phoenix for some last minute event work and details. Things like parades and presidential visits really impact my event and event plans, so I sometimes need to revert to Plan G (progressing from Plan A). Throughout this year of planning three detailed events on my own (not overseeing, but being responsible for the whole kit and caboodle), I have learned to really roll with the punches and take things one day at a time. In the past I would be stressed to the max because pieces were out of place. (I am a little anal when it comes to the planning and details of my events.) This year, with so much on my plate, I have learned to not stress quite as much. To come to the table prepared but with the knowledge that things will definately not be the way I want them to be. Sometimes those changes are good, other times, they are just frustrating.

Along with the ability to be less stressed, I am including real life into my world. Making time for myself and to spend time with people I love and laugh with has been a huge help to keeping my stress level lower than anticipated. The event will happen and the groundwork I have done will ensure that even Plan G will be just fine. Walkers will enjoy themselves, sponsors will get what they need and my co-workers won't have too difficult of a time with the detials.

This past week I worked hard and negotiated and mapped things out, and ended up frustrated. In the midst of the crazy, I had some fun with a few favorites (old favorites). I didn't put the message out to many that I was in town because I knew I would have lots of work to be done and more than an hour for dinner was not an option. But on Friday night, I met some good friends for a breather. I couldn't take the word no anymore...it was getting heartbreaking. And schools and businesses aren't open after 6pm. There was not a whole lot of urgent work that could be done. So, I met friends at a new place. We were celebrating a belated birthday, a completed event season (not for me...) and the freedom from braces. We all got an adult beverage. I opted for a fun, fruity drink called Dr. Funk. It seemed fitting since I was in a bit of a funk. This is what the beverage was served in---

BEST GLASS EVER!

I mean, for real. How super fun and HILARIOUS is that guy? Instantly, the day improved. Laughter came more easily and I relaxed. The good pals I was dining with were definately part of that change in perspective, but Dr. Funk definately played a role!

Dr. Funk came home with me and housed my morning coffee. It was a dreary, rainy, and dark morning today but not in my house. I had a mug with a foo-man chu! Happy Monday!

Alone at last...

Last night was the first night in two years that the men in my life did not join me.

Now before you start to think I am some scandalous lady who writes about activities on a blog that her grandmother reads...the "men" I speak of are the rubberbands named Louie, Greg and Roger that I have had to wear with the braces.

Louie has been with me since almost day one. I would like to say I'll miss him, but I won't. Not even a little bit.

Maybe that makes me a heartbreaker, but I don't care. When it comes to those three, goodbye could not come fast enough!

Before my appointment on Wednesday I threw all those little packets away. And took the trash out. No more. No thanks.

That said, those three are tricky and like any great love in your life even after a break-up, little reminders will come around to try to get you back. And there are sure to be little Louie's, Roger's and Greg's floating around.

But I have nowhere to wear them now....Hooray!

Adidos, boys! Forever.

Sunday Funday

Today is Sunday. I used to really dislike Sundays. For some reason, I always feel Sunday is a "family" day and it's been several years since I've lived near my family. Not that we ever did much on Sundays--other than church in the morning. Otherwise, the day was spent doing chores, helping do some sort of yardwork, nothing notable or miss-able really.

Since moving to Seattle my dislike of Sundays has changed. Aside from the fact that it means I go back to work tomorrow, I actually enjoy Sundays. It means the market is in full effect-- flowers for sale, food trucks to experience, and generally incredible people-watching. No matter what--there is always something to do.

Most weekends I am in my proper home, I start out with no plans but end up enjoying the day either alone or with various pals.

Last week, I discovered and wondered around in a new part of town as I was passing some time between meeting friends for brunch and then some other friends for dinner. This week, I woke up late and had a lazy morning and ended up having a random adventure with two (and surprise a third) favorite. It was a randomly fun day filled with good people.

I think my dislike of Sundays has officially been squashed.

a change of plan.

Do you have days when nothing major was supposed to happen and you planned to get a whole bunch of little things done, but then things come up to change the scope of the day? (well that was a run-on sentence...anyway) Today was that day for me. Last night I had a hard time falling asleep because my mind was full. I decided to get out of bed and make a list to try to put my mind at ease.
This morning I woke up to a very full list and had every intention of completing it. Well, a few things came up that changed the game. Some collegues needed some help. Which is no big thing. But the things they needed help with were some brainstorms and troubleshooting. As we discussed solutions to the issues, I found my stride. I was super happy for no real good reason. I was having fun.
In these very different conversations, I stepped back into my previous Manager role. It's been so long since I have used that part of my brain and my skills.
This sounds arrogant, but I was (am) good at that part of my job. I miss it. As I was trying to figure out why I was so happy about my "successful" day and yet still had a 2 page to-do list in front of me, I realized that kind of teamwork and trouble-shooting is what I miss in my current role. That part of my work really fulfilled something in me. It was fun.
It also helped to show me what exactly it is about my new (well as of last year) role that feels incomplete.
Today I was accomplished even if I still have a two page to-do list to tackle.

Assigned Seats?

Today was my second class.

Last week when I got to class (15 minutes early), the classroom was almost full and I was one of the last to arrive. Seats were limited, so I had to sit in the front row. I do not enjoy sitting that close. Not in class. Not at the movies. Not in a theatre. Not in church. I am a "near the back" person. Or Mezzazine. My seating choice does not mean that I don't pay attention. I simply prefer the "big picture" view. So, last week in the front row was definately not my ideal.

This week I arrived about the same time and as I walked toward the classroom I silently cursed myself for not making an earlier plan of arrival for better seating options. I walked into the room and it was practically empty. (Bonus!) I made a bee line for the back row, center aisle seat. The back row is elevated and only 4 rows back, so you're still close and are definately part of any conversation that ensues.

Since I was an early arrival, I watched as other students rolled in. And I swear almost every single person sat in the exact same seat as they did last week. After the 7th or 8th person did it, it became a little comical. Most hilarious was when the guy who was seated in my new seat walked in, made a beeline for the area and then realized that someone else was sitting in "HIS" chair. His face was priceless--a combination of shock and entitlement quickly turned into minor panic at where he would not have to seat himself. I almost felt bad enough to move. Almost.

But as I sat there, I satrted to really wonder why we are all such creatures of habit. It's kind of weird.

I know I am definately a creature of habit. I take the same roads places, even if I know it's not the most efficient route, it's just the way I always go--now it's a habit. Or how I park in the places when I pop to any store. (I used to make fun of my mom for doing the same exact thing!). But all of these habits have formed after countless ventures to the place. They definately were not formed after one visit. I just find it curious. (and a little funny).

Now I am thinking I may just mix it up every class. It might be kind of fun to see who freaks out. But as a super bonus it will allow me to figure out who the most enjoyable people are and then I can become a creature of habit and sit near them week after week. I'll keep you posted.

(I already know it will not be the guy who wears green. On day one, I knew he was the guy who would drive me bananas. Thus far, in class two, I am right on.)

Under the covers

The weather is changing.

Temperatures are cool.

The sun is not out all that much these days.

My house gets chilly, especially in the early morning hours.

With all the damp, grey and coolness around it is VERY hard to get out from under the covers.

My bed sucks me and keeps me there.

This morning, I woke up early and had a huge plan for the day. But instead my bed called my name and was just too cozy to leave it. I read for awhile and then decided to close my eyes and take a little nap.

It was lucious and ridiculous.

Egg-head

Yesterday, I started my class.

I got to campus a bit early, paid my parking fee (I really am a grown-up), grabbed a Pumpkin Spice Latte and walked through campus to find my classroom. I felt like I was back on campus at MSU. Am I really doing this again?

As I sat in the class, my mind wandered a bit, thinking about what this new experience could bring. There were a mix of people in the class. Interesting and diverse. Already, there is a guy who I know will drive me nuts. There's always one, right?

But, mostly I just got excited at the idea of learning.

I am a nerd. Always have been. Likely always will be.

In 6th grade, my friends and I would have sleepovers and read. My mom has called me her little egg-head for years.

And I like it.

I like that I am curious.

I like to be challenged and expand my brain. Yes, sometimes it hurts to try to think in a different manner, but in the end it's always a good thing.

And I felt like this class will provide that brain stretch that I have missed in the last couple years. I have been in the same job for 6 years. The position has opportunities to present challenges--some good ones, some not so good. But it's been awhile since I have really learned anything new. I'm an old dog and need to learn some new tricks.

I am so excited!

Question of the week...

Tomorrow I start my class. As I posted previously, I am both nervous and excited about this prospect.

I am a procrastinator (as I have been for my whole life), but I thought that might change when I am paying for the class myself.

Yeah, Not so much.


I promise I had the best of intentions when I got my first assignment early last week. I have been thinking about it and making a mental plan for when I'd read that article, watch the video and write a two page paper. I started to yesterday and then totally distracted myself with some super random stuff on the internet while I was doing research....whoops! Talk about a rabbit hole. Yikes, I was bound to find Alice* somewhere in there. By the time I pulled myself out of the rabbit hole it was late and I did not feel I was at my best so I opted to put it off one more day. And here we are one day before the class and I finally did the assignment. I woke up early and was showered, dressed, and beginning to get caffinated all before the construction dudes showed up next door. I was focused and finished the assigment before my workday started at 8:30am. It's done and I actually feel good about it.


But now as I print the paper and materials I'll need for class, I am nervous.
Questions plaguing my mind--
- Where is the classroom?
- Where on earth do I park?
- How much time should I give myself to get to class? It's rushhour and I have little practice.
- what should I wear???

Of all things, the question of what to wear is nagging at me. I know it's stupid. I know no one will actually care what I arrive in. But that's what I will be nervous about.

Maybe it's because I can actually tell you what I wore on most of my other first days of school. Weird, right?



On my first day of Kindergarten, I wore an outfit that was a hand-me-down. It was purple (my favorite color) and I remember thinking I was so cool. I got to ride the bus (!) and go to school (!!). Of course, I loved school. My dad loves to share the story of how I came home and was 5-year-old pissed that I didn't have homework. He really liked to remind me of that whenever I complained about homework in my later years. (I can hear you now, Papa. No more complaints.)





I attended a Catholic school for my elementary years, so I wore a school uniform for the remaining 6 first days of school. I always had a new pair of "good" (and expensive--thanks mom and papa) shoes, fancy socks and a bow that matched. My hair was always placed in pink rollers while I slept so I would wake up with "dressed-up" hair. We would lay out our school bags and new supplies the night before so we would be ready for the 7am bus pickup.

In 7th grade, we had moved and I attended a public school for the first time in my life. I got to participate in "back to school" shopping and decide what I was going to wear. My favorite outfit that year (in that school) was pegged-jeans (I cannot believe that is making a comeback, btw!), thick socks, and a horizontal striped shirt in purple and green. (Think Barney...). I thought I looked so awesome! (yikes). We moved around a bit during this timeframe, so the other first days at the new schools are a bit fuzzy. I am quite sure that other first days consisted of some sort of oversized vest and a button-down. (Give me a break...it was the Memphis/Midwest version of grunge.)

By high school, I had been in public school for a few years and had been settled in one school system for a little over a year. I knew where kids shopped and what was "cool". Starting the 9th grade, there were two first days. The very first "first" day was only 9th graders. I think it eased us in. And the second day was with everyone. I OBSESSED over what I was going to wear on both days. I am pretty sure I had it planned out for weeks. I wore a sunflower t-shirt and brown jeans (they matched the inside of the sunflower...oh yeah!) for the 9th-grade only first day of school. I had insanely long hair at the time so made sure to have a scrunchie that matched! And for the forst day of school with everyone I wore jeans and a tie-dye t-shirt. I still own (and wear) that tie-dye.
I am not 100% sure of what I wore the remaining first days of high school, but am pretty sure one day was a borrowed plaid shirt from my dad that he didn't know about until he tried to get dressed for work (thanks, papa). Likely a sports uniform was in the mix, and probably a pair of overalls worn with birkenstocks and wool socks. (Yep, super cool...)




By the time I got to college, I was in my hippe phase of life. My mom sent me away to college and reminded me that I should wash my jeans at least once a week. Showering was not neccessarily a daily habit. And I LOVED overalls. :)

My roommate (Joann Van) and I actually took a photo on the first day of class. I was full of oversized, grey school spirit.




After that trip down memory lane, whatever I wear on my first back to school will be an improvement!


*Alice from Alice in Wonderland. Get it? Because she follows the rabbit down the hole and a whole array of craziness ensues.