Posts Tagged ‘health’


February 10, 2009

I’ll let Nyssa describe the general mood for today with a poem she wrote:

by Nyssa

i and you are Sick oh why, oh why,
Oh Why. Look up at the sky Today
Look, it is very grey. all i do is
Sigh, and sigh and sigh, Oh Why
am i Sick. Couldn’t i be bitten by a
Tick? all I do is Lay on my bed
Today. Oh Why are we Sick.


Good news!

June 23, 2008

No, I’m not going to blather on about my house. This is even better! Tiger is back!

Tiger is our wonderful neighborhood cat. He sits inside Tesco to get out of the rain, he suns himself where passersby can admire him, he goes into the boutique downstairs and trods on the cash register buttons, and generally makes loveable naughtiness. Last fall we stopped seeing him and worriedly asked around. The best (and most hopeful) guess was that due to ill health his owners had switched him to a special food and he didn’t like this at all so moved on. The worst was that he had fallen victim during the time that Fife was experiencing a spate of catnapping. Several months went by and we sort of accepted that our little friend was gone–until the other day when James went into Tesco and happily found Tiger sitting inside by the carts! Today when I walked to pick the kids up from drama I saw him too, sunning himself on the pavement. I bent down to chat him up and he performed a series of adorable cuteness tummy rolls. Aw.

Last week I finally managed to get the kids to the dentist. Here I admit how awful a parent I am–aside from the little checks they had while still in primary school, they have never been. Ever. I know this ranks up there with outright neglect, but, well, yeah. Nyssa was verrrry nervous, poor bean. She let Joseph go first (how nice) and saw that it wasn’t that terrible. When it was her turn she got in the chair, and to everyone’s surprise, this is what happened:

The reason the dentist is smiling is that he had just finished stating that Nyssa is the giggliest patient he has *ever* had. If you’ve seen her get going with the giggles, you can probably imagine. The difference here is that her mouth had to stay open and she had to try to stay still. I wish I had gotten a video instead of just a picture.

So, the kids both need a wee bit of work done, nothing serious. That is, I know it’s nothing serious, but they’ll be surely freaking out the morning of. Joseph is also being referred to an orthodontist because of those little bunny teeth of his, bless.

It is still on my mind to post vacation photos and commentary. I’m just a bit tired and lazy busy. I hate to think that it wil take me until we’ve moved to do it, but it just might.

That said, I don’t use all of my spare time to pack. I spent way too much time this afternoon in my pajamas (what) sketching out a quilt design for all those sunny fat quarters I bought for Nyssa back in the States

Have to say, I bought it for the kids (*cough*), but this thing is just darned useful:

Should probably go make dinner. We’re having taco pizza, something we’ve had a berjillion times. Still, when I told Nyssa she managed to act as though it was a novelty she had never heard of, much less eaten. I hate when the kids do that! I have enough reasons to feel like a left-field wierdo already, thank you. 😛

Sumfink sumfink…

June 14, 2008

I finally caught that post-flight funk. ’twas gross, as usual. I wasn’t quite over it today, but tomorrow is Father’s Day so I had to get the kids out to get James some stuff. Apologies to the various grandfathers, I just wasn’t up to organizing sending things this week. We managed to get some items chosen, the Saturday shoppers and my having to queue to get sick in the bathroom notwithstanding. After a dash through sudden rain, I got back home and realized how bad the downstairs smells. Apparently no one had picked up the kitty litter duty during my period of infirmity. I took care of that, then made the mistake of going into the kitchen, where there are just always evidences of behaviors that are going to piss me off. I was feeling sort of feverish by this point, saw the dish brush touching the sink drain, and just lost it. I yelled for the kids to come in and rehashed the usual ‘people leave the sink too gross to leave sponges in it and now I have to sanitize the lot, arghhh!’ rant, albeit in a much higher register and with much grander gestures this go around, then went into the living room and started bawling into a pillow. Then James started whistling in the next room, just generally a cardinal sin, and I stumbled into the room he was occupying and started verbally flailing at him through hiccupy sobs. I so impress myself sometimes. Anyway, he was smart enough to diffuse the situation with cuddles rather than take offense; God only knows how today would have turned out if he decided to start flailing back. Somehow, within 10 minutes or so, I was fine and even started making dinner rather than retreating to the couch. Freak.

So, for added zen to a day that needs it, some lolcats:

(for non-yankees, see here for the raison de lol)



That last one makes me seriously happy.

Joseph’s appointment

June 9, 2008

So. The long-awaited appointment at the pediatric unit of the hospital was today. After the usual runaround of an NHS building (“oh no, you have to check in with so and so first..that’s in the basement at the other side of the complex”), we arrived more or less on time. Joseph’s height and weight were checked, and then we were told to go to the waiting room. It was surprisingly undepressing. There was even a happy-looking Nintendo unit for Joseph to play, which was good because we waited for the better part of an hour. Our Doctor called us and we quickly got up to follow. We had sort of a strange moment when we got out in the hall and he was nowhere to be seen. We wandered into the right hallway and he ushered us into his office. Some odd, irritating, and surreal points:

1. He had an obviously Arabic name. I say that to get the shame of being biased out of the way. I have to admit I was a bit nervous that there would be a serious language/culture barrier. I have a hard enough time asserting myself with people in my own culture/language/demographic group. Fortunately, he was really, really friendly. But in that subtly patronizing way that made you not quite sure he had any regard for you.

2. He had some very strange notions about gender. He asked Joseph if he wanted to be small and weak or big and strong and I mentally groaned. Joseph rather brightly replied that he didn’t mind which. The doctor then went into this lighthearted but completely nebulous tangent about how he must grow up to be big and strong because, “sorry mum, but women rule the world today. Someday it will be time for men to fight for our rights and we must be strong…” I had no idea how to pad that; I just quirked an eyebrow at Joseph who employed his smile-and-nod coping mechanism. Good lad.

3. He seemed bent on not allowing any of his questions to be properly answered. I had to bite my tongue to not mutter, “knock knock, who’s th-INTERRUPTING DOCTOR”.

4. Apparently, against the suggestion of the referring doctor, there’s nothing wrong enough with Joseph at this point to warrant serious testing. This was something of a relief to Joseph, as that would have required a lot of blood letting. The official plan is to stuff him full of calories until he gains weight. He said, “you have this word in America, junk food? Well, it is only junk for fat people.” Hmm. Tactful. Also, he would prefer that I fry Joseph’s food rather than boil or bake it. I’m sorry that this is apparently AMA, but for me the idea is not to alleviate Joseph’s weight problem only to set him up for congestive heart disease. He did make the valid point that Joseph should stop hoarding his treats in his room and actually eat them, though that was relayed via a strange hypothetical story about a robber coming into the flat to steal our treasure and being deterred if Joseph eats all his candy such that there is nothing worth taking. …

5. Joseph mentioned Star Wars to him (as you would) and he didn’t know what he was talking about (!). At length, Joseph managed to convey that it’s a sci fi series of movies. The doctor said he was much too busy calculating how many calories small boys need to be able to watch films. Our parting agreement was that Joseph would gain enough weight that the doctor wouldn’t need to worry about him anymore and he in return would watch Star Wars. Joseph didn’t specify which episode/s, and being content with such a lack of clarification is rare for him. Just goes to show how shellshocked he was by the experience ;).

So, if after four months Joseph hasn’t gained his weight, he’ll go in for more testing. In the meantime, the challenge will be to convince Nyssa that the universe isn’t entirely unfair in letting Joseph have so many more milkshakes than her.

pondering smells

April 12, 2008

I’ve discovered that I really like Lush’s Fever perfume balm along with Estee Lauder’s Beautiful perfume. It would be nice to replicate something similar in one product.

Notes in fever:
* rose
* jasmine
* sandalwood
* gardenia

Notes in Beautiful:
* Top Notes
Rose, Mandarin, Lily, Tuberose, Marigold

* Middle Notes
Orange Flower, Muguet, Jasmine, Ylang-Ylang

* Base Notes
Sandalwood, Vetiver

It’s apparent immediately why they go well together. I’ve got several of these scents already, shall start experimenting. Will keep my mind off my pink-eye perhaps. Yeah, how much does that suck?? And to add insult to injury I got a message this morning saying my prescription sunglasses were ready to be picked up and would I please call and make an appointment. I can just imagine the reaction of a busy high street optometrist to a girl wandering in with goopy green eyes..hehe.

Take one: I put lots of woods in and it ended up smelling like pine-sol. Maybe tree smells are best left outdoors? I need to find some sandalwood oil..

Take two:
Copious amounts of jasmine and ylang ylang, lots of clove, a fair amount of rose (which smells *really* odd in the bottle, is that normal?), and some patchouli, basil, chamomile. Chamomile, oddly enough, is really powerful and I’m not sure I like the smell. Since I had to add alcohol, I figured I could add vanilla and almond extracts, which made it much nicer. Think a bit more jasmine and ylang ylang relative to the clove next time. I want to smell more like a flower than a cookie ;). And maybe no chamomile or rose at all..

So I went out today by myself. I wasn’t in a great mood. Everything looking so short and skewed is powerful depressin’. I bought a Dr Seuss t-shirt to cheer myself up. Also thought my bout of the eye funk was excuse enough to get a new mascara. *shrug* Today is a very *shrug* sort of day.

Sunday Zen

March 9, 2008

I very happily found a link to Chihuly’s Kew Garden Exhibition photos. I’m still getting over being gutted at not making it down to see it in person. I’ve adored Chihuly glass for ages. I don’t know what it is about it, but his works are among the few sorts that have penetrated my brain enough that they inform the design of my dreams. In particular, the Macchia:

So, Joseph’s blood came back as very low in iron. He’s still being referred to a specialist though, so I’m not sure what the deal is. In the meantime, he’s got massive bottles of iron elixir to get through. It’s charming how providers of pharmaceuticals just never get the ergonomics thing right. I had to find a liquor bottle pouring lid whatsit to put on his iron bottle, else we’d spill as much product filling the measuring spoon as he’d get down his throat.

What else, what else. I’m trying not to lose my head with all the things I’m having to remember to plan. Some things on the list include: getting the cats vaccinations completed, get Mitu a dental cleaning/potential teeth pulling, getting everyone else their teeth appointments, getting my eyes examined, scheduling science week stuff, scheduling our april trip and whatever else we’ll tack onto that trip, getting my driving license, buying a car, sorting details for our trip home, etc. It doesn’t seem like that much once typed out, but it’s too much to carry around in my brain at once, which causes me funky tummy. All I can say is thank jeebus for google calendar.

In crafty news, my brilliantly weird way of knitting continental is just not producing the gauge I need. It sucks because it doesn’t bother my right wrist nearly as much and is, dare I say, faster. Meh.

I had the fun of pretending to tell Nyssa off for something unusual this morning–she woke me up just at the point in my dreaming at which I was about get a fabulous chocolate pie served to me in a restaurant. That was to make up for the fact that a few moments before I had noticed that the aquariums on all the tables had dead fish in them. If you know me, you might be aware of the strange aversion I have to dead fish floating in water. I deserved my pie. Well, in real life it is dessert night, so I have an inkling what I’ll be choosing..hehe.

Scapegoat for my fat ankles, yesss.

February 27, 2008

I was quite happy to read this article on every hypochondriac’s best friend, WebMD. Basically, I can blame my fat @$$ on the huge volume of Diet Coke I’ve ingested in recent months. The (most likely coincidental) fact that I’ve also happened to make all my weight gain in that time is all the correlation my lazy scientific thinking needs. Seriously, at one point I did have my doctor check my thyroid, etc. I’m borderline, but it was no fast explanation for why I’ve gained about 20 pounds this year. To be honest though, I sort of prefer my body this way. All of that skin that my babies so lovingly stretched out (there are disadvantages to having your kids before you’ve gained your ‘freshman 15’) is, well, more filled out. Slight Buddha belly beats deflated balloon, have to say. Same goes up top, though I’ll spare you the metaphorical language for the various states of my rack. While I’m not impressed with my ankles, which now look permanently pre-menstrual, weight gain has given me an excuse to donate all of those clothing I really should have gotten rid of anyway, whether they fit or not.

One money tip if you too are moving the way of the Buddha–the current fashion of clothing with exposed or inverted seams and fraying of edges means that you can often get away with cutting some inches off the waist of your skirts. For a fitted skirt you can either just sew around the perimeter and let the top fray, which is exactly what I did to the denim skirt I’m wearing this very moment, or make a proper hem. Other more loosely-styled or stretchy skirts you can just cut and hem, leaving room for elastic. I was pleasantly surprised by the number of skirts that I could do this with without it looking completely crap. If you don’t wear form-fitting tops or tuck your tops in, you really don’t have to be persnickety at all.

Here’s an ethics question for you crafty ladies–is it wrong to cannibalize clothing for fabric when it’s good enough to donate to a charity shop? On the one hand, that’s less fabric that my husband will have to pay for. That’s the theory anyway. (Rasjane is probably laughing ruefully at this point.) On the other..well there’s just no guarantee that even if I manage to get the fabric out for a project that it will result in anything remotely useful or wearable. My imagination outreaches my skill-set, you see. What do you think? By that of course you realize I’m looking for validation of my desire to hack apart my clothes. 😉

Worry of the week

February 26, 2008

I got a call today from the doctor’s office about Joseph’s blood. Can’t remember if I said anything, but Josey had to get a bunch of blood drawn last week so the doctor could possibly find a fixable reason for why Joseph will just not gain any weight. His height is ok, but he weighs only 47 pounds (he’s 9). The lady who called said his blood count is low and he has to go get more blood drawn. She didn’t say which portion of the blood is low. I can’t imagine it’s red blood cells, as he has iron in his daily vitamin, and Joseph is the king of routines. I don’t want to even ponder that it’s his white blood cells. So, Friday morning we’ll drag our asses out of bed to go get him poked again. Fortunately we have some of that ‘magic cream’ left, though Joseph cried a bit when I told him the news because he said it hurt even with it. Poor bean.

This will sound completely selfish, but I’m a bit glad it’s Joseph and not Nyssa that needs a blood draw. Joseph can be even-keeled and, well, basically not be a fatalist like Nyss would surely be. I don’t know that I could deal with four days of Nyssa screaming and crying because she’ll have convinced herself that she has some terrible blood disease and she’ll be dead within the week. I’m surprised actually that she hasn’t mentally latched onto worries about her brother.

In other fantastic medical news, the BBC has reported that SSRIs perhaps do little more than provide a placebo effect. To be honest, I’ve long suspected this, but I’ve also long been taking Celexa. For some reason, the idea that my brain got functional on its own makes me more anxious than being able to attribute it to a drug. Pathetic, yes. I think I’m aware of quite how faulty my brain’s wiring is, and I really don’t want to think that the only thing that I can help myself with when next I have problems is my own strength/chemistry/PMA/whatever. This quirk is made even more bizarre since I’ve long accepted that my most fundamental psychiatric problem, DPD (depersonalization disorder), which I’ve had since about the age of 12, is incurable and completely intertwined with all of the other aspects of my personality, and I’m fairly philosophical about it (with some strange lifestyle accommodations). The difference, I guess, is that with DPD I can just shut down and sit it out. With panic, I feel certain that I’m having a heart attack/about to choke/etc. because I have physical symptoms that my empirical brain wants to take seriously. It’s all karma I suppose. When I was younger, I was critical of hypochondriacs. Now I’d totally be one of those weirdos that purchases access to high-tech body scanning equipment, wires herself up to oxygen monitors at night, etc., if I could afford such frivolities. This is where I recommend having faith of some kind to those who can muster it. If I could believe that something in particular happens after death I might calm down a little. As it is, I’m incapable of faith and rather than freeing me from worry (since our best evidence is there is no existence of the ‘self’ after death so we wouldn’t know the difference anyway), it makes me paranoid because all reason, purpose, meaning, etc. has to come from within me, the ultimate flawed entity. Anyway, blah blah blah, you’ve heard all this before. It’s the usual life-dichotomy of the agnostic, trying to live and raise kids as though we have something to base all our behaviors and decisions on when all the time there’s the nagging certainty that we’re totally winging it because there’s just no alternative..

So, on a much happier note, I’ve learned this week that bliss can be had for 2 quid. The last gaming platform I played regularly was a Super Nintendo, and I was completely in love with the Zelda game for it. Some time ago I discovered that it had been pulled from the vaults to be made into a gameboy advance game. The GBA has always been much too painful to use because it doesn’t have a backlit screen and I am very, very old. So imagine my excitement when I learned that The Nintendo DS would accept GBA games. It took a couple years and lots of wheedling at James, but I finally got one this week as my very belated Christmas present. I managed to find the aforementioned Zelda game on ebay for, you guessed it, 2 quid (you didn’t think I found a DS for that price did you? :P) and it came in the mail today. Ahhh. And it wasn’t a completely uneducational purchase–I got to explain to the kids what ‘nostalgia’ means. Awesome.

Amazing thing..

November 8, 2007 much time I spend on the internets and still manage to not post pictures. Ah well. They’re sitting on my desktop anyway, queued nicely.

So. Nyssa has been having some strange and even more bizarrely predictable nighttime behavior. First, she’s been needing the bathroom *a lot* recently (we’re waiting for lab tests regarding that, actually), so she gets up once after bedtime to use the bathroom, won’t go into it. She eventually ends up in bed and a bit later will start to scream. I’ll run in to see what the matter is. She’ll invariably be sitting up, but will have stopped yelling. She’ll say strange things though. Last night it was, ‘Terrible, terrible, terrible! Pancakes!’ I lay her down and she conks right out. In the wee hours of the morning, she comes out for the bathroom again and then comes and flops on me. It’s hard for me to tell her to go to bed, because we have some weird and wonderful conversations in this late me and her time. Sort of reminds me of my dad coming home from his gigs. I’ll never forget that image actually. The crappy green carpet, Dad’s grey and black coat and beat-up cowboy hat, the smell of cigarettes and a bit of alcohol, and the hushed and husky voice of someone’s who’s been up into the wee hours of the morning. Ah. Anyway. Nyssa is mellow and slower in speech late at night. In fact one night she woke up because she was all wet. I found her in the bathroom with copious amounts of blood pouring off her face. I was shocked by the blood, but more so because of how composed she was. She commented in an offhand sort of way that she was concerned about getting her bedding stained. Bemusing little girl.

I’ve found a brilliant item to have when waiting at a train station longer than I intended. The kids were at a birthday party and got wee bottles of bubbles as favors. Apart from when they were being told off for venturing too close to the platform when chasing the bubbles, it was excellent.

People who don’t know James very well will probably be shocked to know that he is, in our vernacular, full of squee. That is, he gets all hello kitty cute at times. It’s true! You just have to involve cats somehow. For instance he is a very proud and doting father to his naughty kitten (hugantic, as Joseph says, 2-year-old cat) Mittens. He even has a painfully adorable song, the lyrics to which go: “Fishie time is here! Come and celebrate!” The singing of this is then followed by James going off into the hall with Mittens’ fish-on-a-stick toy with Mittens happily trotting along behind. The cat really is James’. He’s learned to fetch–on his own terms, but I can’t for the life of me train him to stay off the kitchen table. And he doesn’t just daintily hop up to sit, oh no. He jumps up, stomp-stomp-stomps about, knocks all the spare change and other kitty annoyances onto the floor, then nestles down in a bag of recycling. To top this off, when I come in and chide him, he looks at me like ‘what’ and somehow plants his huge rear end down to make extracting him as awkward as possible.

I finally got my invite to ravelry, woot. Sort of a myspace for yarn floozies. Check ‘er out here.

Nyssa was looking at the news and wants to warn you about this: apparently Gap hasn’t cleaned up its act.

Speaking of the Gap and its affiliate companies, I found Joseph an excellent coat in a charity shop yesterday. It’s reversible, red (awesome for Joseph), down-filled, and from the Old Navy. You find the odd and end American items second-hand here, it’s sorta funny. I have a strappy top from Banana Republic that I found in the Oxfam shop. Anyway, I paid a whole £1.25 for the coat. That’s $2.50, y’all. Yesss.

Hehe, I might have mentioned how huge of fans the kids are of High School Musical. It’s sick how the kids in this country love it. Nyss and Jos were even eyeing matching sequined tops with the HSM motif the other day. At some point I would have told the kids that someone had found a naked picture of Vanessa Anne Hudgens and put it on the internet. Femi-nazi Nyssa was appalled. Joseph said, ‘I wanna see it!!’ Nyssa was shocked, and chided him as he is her fan. He told her, ‘yeah, and if I see it I’ll be an even bigger fan!’ So so so wrong, but I could have died laughing.

Nyssa had a wee moment in the spotlight last week. We went to a schools showing of Meet the Robinsons and Nyssa was picked to radio the dude in the booth to start the film. She did a super cute job, but was a bit embarrassed about it because she was in her Halloween costume, being a home-schooled kid and having no dress code, and none of the other hundreds of kids aside from Joseph were. This year she was a little devil, and as is typical for Nyssa, the main features of her costume, i.e. horns and pitchfork, had become bothersome early in the day and were in my bag and her hair which had been spray-painted red wasn’t noticeable in the subdued light of the cinema. Nyssa needs her complexes I guess. That reminds me–for the love of wash’n’wear, do not buy the spray hair color from Boots. After drying it stained her clothes. It stained her scalp (a week later it’s still red). It stained the tub, it stained her jammies, it ruined her jacket because even after the hottest wash (or three) and the most caustic soap, the color wouldn’t completely come out.

And smoothly segueing yet again, Joseph was in the tub the other night and calls for me, sounding fairly urgent, to come to him. I find him with his hair all lathered up and a goofy grin on his face. ‘Mom look!’ he says then leans his head back sensually and running his fingers through his hair says, ‘yes yes, ohhh yes!’ I quirk an eyebrow. ‘I’m like the herbal essences commercial, get it?! Ahahahaha!’

One thing I like about homeschooling is that it halted the self-consciousness that was starting to impede their personalities. They were born whimsical, surreal creatures and I like that. Yesterday we were in Tesco, and I asked them to step aside to the seats by the window to wait for me to pay for the groceries. By the time I turned to look at them Nyssa was engrossed in a reflection of herself in the window doing a crazy hula dance. Joseph was trying to get out of an invisible box. When I walked to get them so we could leave, Joseph wordlessly opens a ‘door’ , gets into his ‘car’, motions for Nyssa and me to get in, and ‘drove’ us home. He’s an excellent chauffeur really. 🙂 And apparently he considers miming to be on his list of occupations for serious consideration. That would be very excellent.

Oh oh oh, we actually got an NHS dentist for the kids. Woww. James and I can’t get one of course, but the dude’s private rates aren’t too extortionate. This is considered better than average provision over here. Eh.

Guy Fawkes night was Monday, which as you might know is Britain’s bonfire/fireworks night. Wikipedia it if you’re interested. We were going to go to Burntisland, and indeed were on the way with our picnic dinner, when Nyssa was just feeling too unwell to be far from a bathroom, poor bean. So, we walked down a couple blocks to the waterfront in our own town and had no trouble finding a place to sit as the place was fairly deserted. It wasn’t actually bad for firework-spotting because even though they don’t have the sense to have anyone out on the forth shooting them off from a boat, lots of random folk were having their own little shows in the area. James confirmed for me a growing suspicion–you know those fireworks that back home in the States we can only get on the reservation? Yeah, apparently you can get them at the local supermarket here. Maybe they figure, ‘eh, it’s going to rain soon enough anyway.’?? So, we ate our picnic on an empty promenade, strained to see stars through the clouds, saw a few decent fireworks, and went home when we were too frozen to remain outside any longer. Then James made a fire and we played games. Pretty dorky, but for us it was a family night out on a week night. Wow! 🙂

Racist baby shampoo?

October 18, 2007

I bought some J&J baby shampoo the other day and chose the chamomile one because it smelled decent. Later in the bathroom, I read the bottle (doesn’t everyone read bottles when bored? no?). It said that it contains chamomile extract, duh, but then went on to say that it ‘keeps the light color of your baby’s hair.’ What the holy hell? Am I overreacting in finding this more than a smidge offensive? On several levels? Sheesh.

Nyssa pulled a prank on James today and I’m ever so proud. While Joseph was learning to knit earlier, she got her own ball of yarn and proceeded to make ‘knot art.’ She ended up with a dangly ball on a string and we tested it on Mitu. Now Mitu is a mysterious cat, in that he always has the most gorgeous smelling fur, but has the funkiest breath EVAR. A couple nips on Nyssa’s yarn thing and it was smelling really nasty. That’s when I had the idea to have Nyssa go run into James’ room and tell him she made a lovely perfumed ball and ask him to smell it. She runs in there, giggling so much she can hardly be understood, but still manages to convince James to take a good sniff. HAHAHAHAHA. FUNK’D! 😀

Oh speaking of Joseph learning to knit, he managed to learn to do so much more quickly than I did. Do I feel pride in him or shame in myself? I’m conflicted.

I hurt my back fairly badly a couple weeks ago, not sure how. My dear seester gave me advice via email and I’m much better. Not only is she a treasure trove of dietary/exercise/health info herself, but she works at a hospital and has colleagues with a whole lot of skillsets she can tap. I wish I could be so useful. She’s learning to knit too, and is good enough to ask me questions so I can feel helpful :).

I established a couple house rules this week. The first is that we only do dessert on Sunday. After 10 years of my weight fluctuating by about 30 pounds, I’ve finally decided that I’m happier at the ‘heavy’ side of 135. It helps with the post-pregnancy deflated body parts. Most girls will know what I’m talking about. Most boys have probably stopped reading by this point, so no worries. ;). Anyway, after I had been fairly immobile for a week or more when I hurt my back, I stepped on the scales and let out an audible ‘woooah.’ Much more discipline needed. I refuse to be enslaved by the Scottish fatty/sugary food addiction, even if it is the loveliest, wonderfullest addiction going…

Right, so the next rule also has to do with my back in a roundabout sort of way. Though my back is mostly better, certain movements really aggravate it. One of those is standing up and having to do things with outstretched arms. Dishes, of course, is one of these. I’m not making this up just to get out of a despised chore (I would have thought of it a long time ago if I were that sort of person)! I think it’s because I’m short, but yeah. The new associated rule is that everyone has to wash any dish that they themselves dirty. So simple! The cooking dishes are really never the problem, it’s the 2 billion cups and plates that accumulate. I’ve tried reducing the stock of dishes in the kitchen a few times, to no avail. They breed when you shut the cupboard doors, seriously. No, that’s a lie, they actually breed in the sink because god forbid I should open a cupboard door to find extra clean dishes when I want them. So yeah, we’ll see how these new rules play out.