I'm thinking of closing up shop and moving to a new location (no worries, loves, I wouldn't leave you entirely). I'm feeling a little ... stale ... on the weight loss blogging. It's kind of routine, and there's a lot more interesting shiz I want to post about, but I feel constrained because I started a "topic" blog. No fear, if I open up shop somewhere else? I'll link ya.
Until then, I copy and paste a meme from Mar, over at Chub to Chic. Because obviously you need to know more about me. Without further ado:
Welcome to the new 2010 edition of Getting to Know Your Family and Friends: The Blogger Version. Change all the answers so they apply to you, then send this to several people you know — INCLUDING the person who sent it to you (that would be me).
What's your occupation right now?
Law Student and Slave Labor Law Clerk at a firm here in town.
What color are your socks right now?
What are you listening to right now?
This week's episode of Community on Hulu.
What was the last thing you ate?
Hummus and All-Bran crackers.
Can you drive a stick shift?
Last person you spoke to on the phone?
Do you like the person who sent this to you?
How old are you today?
24. 25 this year ... it's gonna be a blowout.
What is your favorite sport to watch on TV?
Now, football. But, growing up in Indiana, I used to love me some basketball on TV.
What is your favorite drink?
Non-alcoholic? Diet Coke from a fountain or Diet Dr. Pepper from a can. Or a tall glass of ice-cold water.
Have you ever dyed your hair?
Haha. If you knew me in person, you'd know I used to dye it all the time. Every shade of red that has ever been. However, now I've got some very faded highlights that I got almost 5 months ago, and nothing else.
It's far too hard to choose.
What is the last movie you watched?
You know? I have absolutely no idea. I know I've watched some on TV this week, but it was really only as background noise.
Favorite day of the year?
The first sunny day in spring where you don't need a coat, but can get by with a light jacket/long sleeves. Alternatively, I love the first crisp day in fall.
How do you vent anger?
What was your favorite toy as a child?
I actually wasn't a big "toy" kid. I liked activities/puzzles/nerdy things. So, if I had to choose, it would probably be my science kit. Yes, I had one.
What is your favorite season?
Late Spring. Or early Autumn.
Cherries or blueberries?
Neither. You have single-handedly named the only two fruits I really don't like. If I had to choose? Cherries.
Living in a 2 bedroom with Boyfriend in a nice area of Pittsburgh (I promise, they exist!).
When was the last time you cried?
I really don't remember.
What’s on the floor of your closet right now?
Laundry basket, snow boots, and lots and lots of shoes (and my shoe rack).
What did you do last night?
Law school stuff. It was totally awesome. /sarcasm.
What are you most afraid of?
Failure and mediocrity. Being unhappy. I know that's three things. Deal with it.
Plain, cheese, or spicy hamburgers?
Favorite dog breed?
Favorite day of the week?
How many states have you lived in?
If summer internships count, three: Indiana, South Carolina, and Pennsylvania. If not, nix South Carolina.
Diamonds or pearls?
Diamonds. Though I have a string of pearls that I'll always like more than diamonds because they belonged to my great-grandmother.
What is your favorite flower?
Daisies. Preferably Gerber Daisies.
Which of your friends in this distribution list have you had the longest?
Of the people who read this? Amanda, most likely, who I met in college. If we're talking people on the blogroll to the side, probably Mar.
One of our New Year's resolutions was to menu plan and not eat out or eat crap. To that end, we cooked food today. Each recipe feeds four, so we have food for tomorrow, too!
Pasta Primavera: (serves 4)
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil 3 garlic cloves, minced 2 yellow bell peppers, chopped 1 14.5 oz can diced tomatoes salt to taste 1 box pasta (we used Dreamfield's Rotini) 2 cups lightly packed baby spinach 1 cup thawed frozen peas 1 1/2 tablespoons lemon juice.
Boil water for the pasta. Make sure to add salt!
While you're waiting for the water to boil, heat one tablespoon of olive oil over medium-high heat, then add garlic. Cook for about 30 seconds. Add your bell peppers, asparagus, tomatoes, and salt to taste (we used about 1/2 teaspoon). Stir, then cover and cook for 3 to 5 minutes. Then uncover and cook until veggies are tender (about another 5 minutes).
When the water boils, add the pasta, then cook until al dente. Drain, and return to the pot. Add spinach, peas, lemon juice, and 1 tablespoon olive oil to the pasta. Stir in the tomato-veggie mixture.
1 lb thick asparagus, trimmed Salt and pepper to taste 4 salmon fillets (we used thawed frozen fillets) 1/2 cup white wine (we used a medium dry riesling) 2 tablespoons unsalted butter 2 tablespoons chopped chives (we used dried, but fresh would probably be better)
Lay asparagus in a single layer on the bottom of a large skillet. Add 1 cup water and salt (we used 1/4 teaspoon) to the skillet. Season salmon with salt and pepper and lay it across the asparagus spears. Bring water to boil over high heat. Cover, and cook over medium heat until salmon is cooked through and asparagus is tender (this took about 8 minutes for us). Transfer salmon and asparagus to serving dishes.
Add wine to the skillet, increase heat to medium-high, and simmer until mixture is syrupy (this took about 5 minutes). Turn off heat. Wishk in butter and chives, and season with salt and pepper to taste. Pour over salmon and asparagus.
As the title says, I now remember how I got fat. Well, aside from the whole "hormonal imbalance" thing.
It's Indiana. But it's not why you think.
Yes, the foods we eat here aren't so healthy. There's a lot of "American" food. We like to deep fry things. It's really disgusting. But they do that in Pittsburgh, too. In fact, a "Pittsburgh Salad" is lettuce, cheese, chicken fingers, and FREAKING FRENCH FRIES slathered in ranch dressing.
It's not the food. It's that I am and always have been miserable here. It's because of my parents' house. It's the center of all things despair. They're both incredibly unhappy, and unwilling to face or change any of the things that are easily changed.
So, they've done what Americans have been trained to do: they eat. And I grew up in that environment. My mother and I never got along. We still don't, but it was even more acute as a kid, because I couldn't get away. I had no control over my life, because she micromanaged everything.
Everything except for what I put in my mouth.
My adult life has been relatively happy. But periods of great sadness in my life have led to me gaining weight, because in order to cope, I eat. It's something I can control.
But my life in Pittsburgh, despite this last semester kicking me in the teeth, has been pretty happy. I was able to lose weight. I gained some back when things got truly miserable. But coming back to this house, to what feels like a toxic environment where my parents live separate lives, and where my mother is incapable of acting like a human being, let alone an adult ... well, it's really brought my food issues front and center.
I took a big step today. We went up to see the extended family. I'm not a fan. It's stressful, and it's incredibly sad for a lot of reasons. Added to the rest of the week, it's a prime over-eating environment for me.
So, I ate breakfast before we left the house. I had one plate of food at the family lunch, and it wasn't even full. Everything was a reasonable portion. Now, I'm not saying any of it was good for me, but I didn't gorge myself. I didn't even have dessert.
It was a small thing. But for me, it was a really big step.
I've got a get-together with some old friends tomorrow evening. Then Sunday at 7:30, I'm headed back to Pittsburgh. Where Boyfriend will pick me up from the airport, and I'll give him a big huge hug.
So, I know that a few of my readers are banking VPs, and I love you dearly.
But I hate my bank.
For the purposes of this post, I won't name them EXPRESSLY, but I'll just say ... they're headquartered in Pittsburgh and in the past few months bought out my lovely bank that I had been doing business with FOR YEARS with absolutely no problems.
And then THIS BANK came along and ruined all that.
Let's chat, shall we?
So, Bank 2 buys Bank 1. And I get NO notices about the change-over, how I should be doing things, when I should expect a debit card in the mail, nada. Months go by. Still nada. The website changes. My account number changes. I'm told to "keep using my card until one comes to me" every time I call.
Then, 12/9 comes around. They cancelled my old card and didn't tell me. I found out while trying to buy a pre-finals bagel. Luckily I have a credit card and debit card issued by Bank #3 where I have also done business FOR YEARS with no problems. I can still pay for things.
So, I call the customer service hotline. AGAIN. The woman on the phone has a nice Southern drawl. She tells me that oh honey they tried to send it to you and your address wasn't right or something and do you live in an apartment? Why, yes, mystery woman, I do. Oh sweetheart they sometimes can't deliver to the apartments on the first try, because the landlords have them chopped up into so many units and not all of them are registered with the post office!
I swear to the gods that the italics aren't ironic. That's how she talked.
Anyway, she was very helpful. She verified my address. She tried to process my card and have it sent to me. Turns out that the computer wouldn't let her, because it takes 3 to 5 calendar days for the address to verify. Uh, excuse me?
But it's not her fault, and I tell her this as I'm asking to speak to her manager. I indicate that I'm less than pleased that they evidently tried to send me a card, then realized my address was somehow unacceptable, then NEVER CONTACTED ME about the problem. I indicate that I know this isn't the manager's fault either, but that there's got to be a better way to do this than allowing me to realize the problem only when my previous card is inactivated.
And so on, and so forth.
So, I called back today, and got a very nice Indian woman, who processed my card order. Let's see if it gets to me.
However, Indian woman refused to order checks for me (I would do it myself, but the website for some reason HATES everything about me and won't let me order them -- I kept getting error messages). She insisted that I could continue using my Bank 1 checks, even though I now had a different account number with Bank 2. I call shenanigans. I don't want to get called in for check fraud. That's a felony, you know.
I'll be going to my local branch and speaking to a representative in person tomorrow.
Or, I'll be closing out my account and taking my business down the street. It just kind of depends on how things go.
I'd like to say that I feel great, and that I'm back to normal. I'd like to say that for the past 5 days I've been running around like normal, and with even more energy than normal.
But I'd be lying to you.
Instead, I've been lying on the couch. I've been propped up on pillows and popping Rx strength ibuprofen. I've been applying ice packs. I've been wearing long sleeves and hiding my hands to keep others from being grossed out by the blown veins in my arms from where they tried to give me an IV. I've been hating sitting upright and moving at school and work. I've stopped carrying some of my books to school. In short, I've been a sad sack of whine and pain.
I've done what I'm supposed to. I called my PCP and told the receptionist about the issue. I told her about the ER visit and the fact that they wanted me to follow up. The soonest they could see me was December 7th. After some cajoling, the receptionist connected me to the medical assistant, who evidently knows about the super secret appointment times that aren't filled. I left her a message. This was Monday at 9am, and she still hasn't called me back.
I went to the student clinic, where a very nice nurse complimented my outfit. Evidently they see a lot of undergrads without jobs. And then the doctor came in and listened to my heart and lungs. And then he started pressing on my ribs. Hard. Repeatedly. "Does this hurt? Does it hurt now, when I press harder?" Hint: when I cry, yes, it hurts.
So, I'm not dying. I don't have a blood clot or a heart or lung problem. I just have chest wall inflammation. Which hurts. All the time. And which is exhausting, because being in pain is exhausting.
I've been told not to work out for at least a week, and not limit my lifting. To "take it easy." I suppose there will be more couch time for me in the near future.
Let me explain. No, no. Iz too much. Let me sum up.
It's been a shitty week.
Boyfriend has bronchitis. He has two inhalers.
I've been swamped with work and school, and I'm having my lovely monthly time that makes me wish I no longer had a uterus.
On Wednesday, I saw a woman get hit by a car leaving work. And, I was insulted by another witness for sticking around to give a statement, because she saw that I work for a personal injury attorney. Shortly after I gave my statement and the cops left, a guy at the bus stop asked for my panties. Then kept edging closer, and tried to touch me. I may or may not have told him I'd have no problem killing him. I may or may not have meant it at that point.
And I'm sick, too. I've been running a low-grade fever, and have the sniffles. And headaches.
So, because we've been kind of woe-is-me, Boyfriend and I decided to go out for dinner and a movie. We ate sushi, then decided to go see Paranormal Activity.
And both were good. Except ...
Except that toward the end of the movie, my chest started to hurt. I thought it was just because I was scared, but then it didn't go away. Then I felt light-headed.
So we went to the ER.
Evidently the magic words to be seen quickly are "Uh, hi. I'm having some chest pain and I feel nauseated." They don't even ask for your insurance card. They plop you in a wheelchair and start ripping your clothes off before you even get back to the curtained area. And they don't let your boyfriend go back with you.
But the nurse was a nice guy named Andrew. And the EKG wasn't so scary. Nor was the heart monitor. Or the chest X-ray.
But trying to get an IV in my arm? JESUS. Turns out I'm a hard stick. Especially when I've had caffeine. Don't ask me how much I'd had by 11pm when we showed up at the ER. It's embarrassing. Anyway. Three different nurses tried. One (my dear Andrew) was able to draw the necessary blood to get the tests for blood clots done. Then the sticking really started. My favorite is when one of the shift nurses tried to start one in my hand, and totally blew a vein. I bled all over the floor, and my hand is still swollen three hours later, after ice.
After all that -- no clue why it hurts. I have a prescription for the super-extra-strength Motrin. They think it's probably inflammation between my ribs, but I'm supposed to follow up with my PCP ASAP.
I'm just a 20-something blogger living in the city. I've got a part-time job, a full class schedule, a boyfriend that makes me shoot proverbial milk out of my nose, and the beginnings of a serious coffee addiction.