Cranky. Mentally drained. Completely anxiety-ridden and severely sleep-deprived (yes, I really AM writing this post at 2:41 a.m.!!).

I've been doing my final studying for the NASD Series 65 investment license exam, which I will be taking on Monday, 8/6 at 1:30 p.m.

If I pass, I will be a Registered Investment Adviser representative. Whoop-dee-doo.

The material covered in the exam is extensive, and the prep for it has been grueling, quite frankly. It's mostly self-study, but I decided to up my chances of passing on the first try by enrolling in a two-day intensive review class. That was this past Monday and Tuesday in Center City (Teri, I was thinking of you...I took the train into town those days and got off at Suburban Station, and then walked the four blocks or so to the classroom at 16th and Walnut.).

The exam topics include both federal and state regulations on the securities and investments industry, equity and debt securities (aka stocks and bonds), other securities products (aka options, variable annuities, commodities, and futures), retirement plans, asset allocation models, tax law, investment strategies, and a far-reaching overview of economics and the different types of investment analysis.

Bleh. Especially on the econ part...I took a general overview Economics course in college and got a D+.

I have serious doubts about my ability to pass this exam. I've been taking a kajillion practice exams, and I've been scoring just a teeny bit below the passing grade, which is 68.5%. I've been getting scores like 63% and 66%, which simultaneously annoys and reassures me. I'm annoyed because it's so damn close to a passing score but not QUITE there...and I'm reassured because it's so damn close to a passing score, which indicates that there must be some hope that I will get through it successfully.

So on Monday around 1:30 p.m., please, PLEASE think some good thoughts for me. It's a 3-hour exam with 130 multiple-multiple choice (that's not a typo) questions, but the practice exams I've done so far have taken me just over an hour to complete.

I will be soooooo glad when this is over and behind me.

Labels: Philadelphia, stress, work

Life has just been getting in the way. That's all.

And I've been terribly remiss in even visiting all my blog buddies' sites, too. I apologize for that. Doesn't mean I haven't been thinking of you all.

I no longer blog from my new job, and frankly, I've been so busy at night when I get home that I just don't have the time, energy, or inclination to sit in front of the computer.

I suck.

Labels: bitching, stress, work

Man, am I tired. I've been sleeping poorly for two weeks, due to my stress over this exam I'm taking tomorrow. Last night, Brian was asking me questions from the sample exam, and I actually fell asleep while he was reading a question to me!

Oddly enough, a few days ago I got a fortune from a fortune cookie that read "If you think you can, you can." So I taped it to my computer monitor at work and have been repeating it to myself frequently. Whatever works, right?

At this point, I don't know how much more studying I can do. I either know the material or I don't, and no amount of additional studying is going to help me either way. Logically, I know that I am well-prepared, but I always doubt myself. Always. I don't know why.

If I pass this test, I've already promised myself that I will break down and get an iPod. Gasp! Yes, I've decided that it's time to finally move into the twenty-first century. Aren't you proud?

Also, I've been getting up around 5:45 a.m. and hitting the gym from 6 a.m. to 7 a.m., then coming to my office to shower and dress for work. There is a small ladies' locker room in my building, complete with stall shower, which is pretty cool...if it weren't so freaking grody! I just shower as quickly as possible without touching anything and, of course, while wearing flip-flops. Eeew.

It feels good to get my workout in early, so my evenings are free. Unfortunately, around 1 p.m. I hit a wall, energy-wise. And today it appears that I'm hitting my wall at 10:30 a.m. instead of after lunch.

I am going to bed very early tonight.

Think good thoughts for me tomorrow afternoon!

Labels: health, stress, technology, work

Do you know what tomorrow night is?



That's right baby, Def Leppard time!

For those readers who missed it, here is the reason why I am so freaking amped to go to this concert.

Also appearing onstage:



I'm still pretty psyched about seeing Journey, too, but they've kinda lost their lustre for me since Steve Perry left the group back in 1987.

I'll tell ya, I need a good night out. I am so stressed out about the DC-2 exam that I'm taking next Wednesday. I'm hardly sleeping at all this week and I've been doing some last-minute cramming. I need to chill for a night.

Soooooo excited!!!!!!!!!!

Labels: bitching, concerts, Def Leppard, music, stress, work

This past Saturday was Brian’s 34th birthday. As has been the tradition, his parents drove down from Rochester to spend the weekend with us.

My in-laws are lovely people. They are very generous to us, and we all get along quite well. That’s all that anyone could ask for, really. So I feel some latent Catholic guilt when I say that Brian’s mom is quite a handful.

It’s not that she’s rude or mean. She’s just EXTREMELY talkative and high-energy, the ultimate extrovert. And if you’ve been reading my blog lately, you’ll remember that I am quite the introvert. So to spend an extended amount of time with someone who is my polar opposite really wears me out.

We took the day off on Friday, and they arrived at our house around noon. I had put together a casual, make-your-own-hoagie lunch for us, and afterwards we took them to walk around Valley Forge Park for a while. I was hoping that would take the edge off some of her energy.

Well, that was not the case. In fact, she was more hyper than ever. We got home around 4 p.m. and I decided that I’d have to start drinking heavily if I were going to last for the rest of the night. So I popped open a bottle of pinot grigio for her, and mixed the first of many Fuzzy Navels for me while preparing dinner (which was delicious, if I do say so myself—I made chicken piccata, roasted red bliss potatoes, and a copycat recipe of Texas Roadhouse green beans with bacon and onions. Mmmmm!).

After dinner, we chatted for a bit, then watched Walk the Line. Yes, I just now FINALLY got around to getting it. Outstanding movie, by the way. I can see now why Reese won the Oscar for best actress. She was phenomenal. I’m still puzzled that Joaquin didn’t win best actor, though. His performance was beyond great. However, I’m still waiting to see Capote, so I can’t draw any comparisons between him and Philip Seymour Hoffman.

After the movie ended, I could barely keep my eyes open. So I excused myself and went to bed, which I think disappointed her. I guess that was a little rude…the hostess going to bed before the guests, but oh well. I needed to escape the chatter before I ripped out all my hair.

I woke up on Saturday at 7 a.m. and took a loooong walk by myself. Then Brian and his dad went golfing, as they always do, so it was up to me to entertain her. Of course, it was gorgeous on Saturday, sunny and in the 70s, but we spent most of the day inside at the King of Prussia mall. Brian’s cousin is getting married in June, and his mom and I were looking for dresses to wear to the reception.

After five department stores and four hours, we must have tried on thirty gowns each. She finally bought a dress at Lord & Taylor for $140…and I found a fabulous, floor-length chocolate brown dress on the clearance rack at Strawbridges for $40! Yahoo, baby! I was thrilled by the bargain, since the dress was originally $180. Both dresses are beautiful, but I swear…if I heard her complain about how flabby her arms look, I thought I’d have to slap the taste out of her mouth. The woman is a size six. Give me a fricking break.

We got home around 4:30 and started getting ready to go out to dinner. My parents came up to the house and we went to a local restaurant. I was so relieved that they were there to carry the conversation that I sat at the table like a mute for most of the meal. Afterwards, we went back to the house and had cake and coffee. My parents headed home around 9:30, and I just barely made it throught the first half of the 10 o’clock news before announcing that I was going to bed. She must think that I am totally lazy, but I don’t care.

They left yesterday morning around 10:30. By 10:33, I was fast asleep on the family room couch.

It was a successful weekend, but I’m kind of glad his parents live 350 miles away. I’m not sure if I could handle her energy level on a regular basis. She’s so high-strung that I just want to lay down and go to sleep after spending a few hours with her.

However, I know that many people have it worse than me, as far as their relationships with their in-laws, so I do realize how lucky I am.

Labels: bitching, family, marriage, movies, shopping, stress, weekends

Well, here I am, sick again. This winter has been horrendous.

Let's see: I came down with strep throat two days before New Year's eve, which sucked. Now I am fighting some kind of upper respiratory infection, with sinusitis (I suspect) along for the ride. I got a week's worth of Levaquin from my doctor yesterday and have been blowing some extremely nasty stuff out of my head ever since I started it last night.

However, this antibiotic is not without side effects, the most noticeable of which is insomnia. I took the first pill, along with 2 Aleve, last night around 8 p.m. I got into bed at 8:15, and had the lights out by 9 p.m. But I didn't fall asleep until well after 11 p.m. Then I kept waking up frequently, and it took seemingly forever to fall back asleep each time.

Finally, I awoke at 3:30 a.m. because my throat was so sore and sandpaper-dry. I was practically in tears from the pain. And Brian's snoring was working my last damn nerve. I slipped out of bed, headed down to the kitchen, and ate a few spoonfuls of applesauce, to coat my empty stomach a little bit. Then I took 2 extra-strength Tylenol, some Sudafed, and guaifenisin, which is an expectorant.

By this time, I was wide awake. I considered trying to stay awake until it was time to get ready for work, but knew that probably wasn't a good idea--I'd hit a major 3 p.m. slump if I tried it. So I got settled under a blanket on the sofa in our living room and turned on the TV. Wound up watching the Olympic men's figure skating event until close to 5 a.m. Finally, I felt tired enough to try to sleep again.

The next thing I knew, it was 6:45 and Brian was standing over me, tapping me and telling me to get up (note to potential future second husbands, i.e., Joaquin: NEVER tap me. Especially not on the head, and especially not when I'm sound asleep. You might end up with your ass in a sling.).

After a lovely, long, steaming hot shower (undoubtedly the best part of my day), I was putting in my contact lenses and the right lens ripped almost in half on my fingertip. Since I only had one pair of lenses, I had no choice but to wear my glasses. I HATE MY GLASSES.

Brian and I carpooled to work today, and on the ride, I discovered that I had lost my voice. Which didn't bother me much, since I can barely conduct any meaningful or enjoyable conversations before 10 a.m.

As I was working at my desk, I felt my nose begin to run. Annoyed, I grabbed a tissue and wiped it, and was horrified when I saw what appeared to be about a pint of bright red blood on the tissue. I never, ever get nosebleeds. Ever. But since this morning, I've had three episodes of profuse bleeding.

And finally, since the barometer is currently hovering just over 30 inches, I have a screaming sinus headache. More of a face-ache, really...it feels like someone in five-inch spiked heels is standing on my face, right over my cheekbones, and occasionally shifting to my browbones.

So, as you can see, I'm batting a thousand today.

I'm so pissed. Another weekend down the drain. I had a lot of stuff on the roster, too. Bummer.

Hope your Friday's better than mine.

Labels: bad news, bitching, health, stress

I treated myself to a massage on Saturday morning, since I passed the DC-1 exam. Plus, I was hoping that it would address my "stress knot" that I've mentioned here before.

A little before 10 a.m., I showed up at my local YMCA and met the massage therapist. I filled out a health questionnaire and told her about my stress knot. She asked me a few questions about my job, my general health, and the kind of pressure I wanted for the massage. I told her to go medium/heavy. So this girl -- who could not have been more than 120 pounds -- worked me OVER! Holy smokes.

Not even a few moments into the massage, I was grunting like a stuck pig. Really! I made noises that I never knew I was capable of making: squeaking, moaning, groaning, sighing, and a few yelps when she hit a particularly tender spot. I mentioned that this made all the other massages I've had in the past seem like mere backrubs. She chuckled and said that I've probably only had spa or Swedish massages before, and that she practiced deep tissue massage.

I described my stress knot to her and she pinpointed the problem area immediately. When I expressed my surprise at how quickly she found it, she told me that she sees many people with the same type of problem. She called it a "mouse knot" because it's apparently caused by using a mouse all day. She worked that little sucker out from behind my right shoulder blade within five minutes. I could actually feel her slide it up the muscle in my back. It was definitely an odd sensation, but it brought instant relief as soon as it was gone.

She also massaged my feet, hands, legs, head, and face. While she was working on my face, I told her about all my sinus problems. She showed me an acupressure technique for relieving sinus pain. It felt wonderful! She also told me about a brief exercise that I could do while sitting in the driver's seat of my car to help my stress knot.

I had originally only scheduled a half-hour job, but she didn't have any clients immediately after me, so I extended it to a full hour. It was worth the $55, and while it certainly was not a relaxing, Calgon-take-me-away experience, it was absolutely effective. All the stiffness in my neck and upper back disappeared.

Overall, she was very knowledgeable and gave an excellent massage. I staggered out of the YMCA in a stupor and went on with my day. Later in the afternoon, I took a nice little nap and I swear I slept better because of the massage.

I may have to make this a regular thing.

Labels: health, stress

I am so thrilled, overjoyed, relieved, elated...I took the ASPPA DC-1 exam yesterday and passed! I have been studying and stressing about this test for months. I am so glad it is over and I passed on my first try. I'm also going to get a bonus for passing, so that makes it even sweeter! Now I can prepare for the holidays without all this stress hanging over my head. Whew!

I took Bailey to the vet again on Friday night for an x-ray. It took almost an hour, but the vet finally called me back to an exam room and told me that everything looked fine. His thyroid test also came back normal.

The vet recommended that Bailey get more subcutaneous fluids for at least the next week, but I said, "Look, this is going to get expensive if I have to bring him here every other day for a week to do this. Can you teach me how to give it to him so I can do it at home?"

Five minutes later, I was sticking a needle into the scruff of his neck, and he was NOT happy about it. But it went OK. So I went home with a bag of IV fluid and four needles. Brian and I worked together on Sunday evening and gave him another round of fluids, and since then, Bailey has seemed to perk up a bit.

I was talking to my mom about it (she's a nurse) and she thinks that maybe he was just dehydrated for no apparent reason, and that's why his kidney values were elevated. He's doing much better now, thankfully. This morning, we played with one of the cats' many toy mice, and he was chasing it and batting it around like the old times.

Life is back to normal again. This week I'm returning to the gym--I'd been on a rather extended hiatus, unfortunately, while studying for this exam. No more excuses!

Labels: accomplishments, health, pets, stress

Sorry I haven’t been around lately. It’s been a difficult week.

First of all, this coming Monday, I am taking a very difficult exam in order to get credentials for my job. I have been studying for this exam for months, and though I know deep down that I’m pretty well-prepared, I am still a nervous wreck. I hate tests.

Then, last night I took my older cat, Bailey, to the vet. He’s been acting weirdly for the past several months, and I figured he should be checked out. He’s lost weight, seems listless, and no longer plays with his brother (our other cat Sebastian) anymore. He just kind of mopes around and has no energy.

Trying to get this cat into his carrier to go anywhere is an ordeal. It took Brian and I about ten minutes, working together, to secure Bailey in his little crate. Bailey doesn’t like car rides, nor does he like the vet (does any cat?), so the fur was definitely flying…his little legs kept splaying all over the place as we tried to stuff him in his cage. At one point, I just started laughing hysterically, much to Brian’s annoyance. It was a pretty funny sight!

We finally got Bailey settled into his cage, and although he was yowling very loudly, we got to the vet’s office without further incident. I put Bailey on the scale, and learned that he’s lost more weight than I’d thought: in April 2003, he was 11.7 pounds, and last night he weighed only 7.4 pounds. Which means he’s lost around 60% of his total body weight. Not good.

The vet examined him as I described his symptoms. She immediately thought it might be diabetes, because I’d noticed he was drinking slightly more water than normal. So she took a glucose sample, and it came back normal, which was a relief. His temperature was normal, his heart rate was a little elevated, but probably due to his vet anxiety, but she commented that his fur seemed dull and a little flaky. She also remarked that he was moderately dehydrated, so she gave him some IV fluids. She took some more blood and a urine sample (and I have no idea how she did that) and sent us home.

This morning, she called and said that everything looked normal from the blood test, except his kidney function was elevated. She was still waiting on the results for the thyroid panel, though, and thought that it could be hyperthyroidism. We won’t know that until later. Then she recommended that we leave him there at the vet’s office for the entire weekend for IV fluid therapy, which costs $400. At which point I nearly fainted.

I said, “Well, after that, then what?”

She said that they’d do an x-ray to rule out any obstructions or other problems. She seemed to think that the kidney issue was indicative of some other problem, and not necessarily a kidney problem itself, because she mentioned that his urine was still very concentrated (whatever that means) and that it was a good thing.

So instead, I told her we’d bring him in again tonight for the x-rays, to look for the problem right away. As much as I love this cat, I just can’t see blowing $400 on IV therapy for the weekend and then spending $150 for the x-rays on top of it. Why not just get the x-rays out of the way first?

I have no idea what to think now. I’ve been doing research all day here, trying to figure out the problem. Unfortunately, many health problems share the same symptoms: lethargy, increased thirst, moodiness, vomiting (which he’s been doing intermittently for months), depression.

The two issues that keep coming up in my research are chronic renal failure and hyperthyroidism. However, the chronic renal failure stuff indicates that most cats lose their appetite…which is not the case with Bailey! He has remained interested in food, and especially his treats, so no problems there.

Now I am completely stressed. I thought that I’d be spending this weekend doing some final preparation for the DC-1 exam, and maybe some Christmas decorating, but it seems that I now have other obligations.

Bailey is our first cat. We adopted him from a rescue just a few months after we got married. He is really the best cat I’ve ever had, and I’ve had many in my life. He’s a real lap cat who loves all and any kinds of human interaction. In fact, many times it’s almost as if he WERE human. He sits on the empty chair next to us at dinner every night—not begging for food, just to keep us company. He sits on the bathroom vanity every morning while I shower and get ready for work. He sleeps with us every night. He lays on my lap as I work on the computer at home. Sometimes, if he’s feeling really affectionate, he grooms me…he licks my hair and nits it with his teeth. He just wants to be around us all the time. If something is seriously wrong with him, we’re going to have to make some hard decisions, and I just don’t even want to think about it right now.

Thanksgiving was good, by the way. The food turned out fine and everyone enjoyed themselves.

Labels: family, holidays, money, pets, scary, stress, work

This week, I find myself slowly descending into the cold panic that always comes with planning and preparing an Important Meal for more than just Brian and me.

All my recipes are neatly clipped together and hanging on the refrigerator. I made the brine for the turkey on Sunday evening. I also put together the cranberry-orange compote (with Grand Marnier, mmmm) and it's still sitting in the blender, also chilling in the fridge.

Tonight: I am going to assemble the ingredients for the green bean and sweet potato casseroles, and refrigerate them, uncooked. I am also going to bake one of the two desserts for the big day: Paula Deen's Gooey Pumpkin Butter Cake. I did a test run last week, since I'd never made it before, and it came out pretty good.

Tomorrow morning, I am going to the farm in Spring City where my fresh turkey is awaiting me. Tomorrow night, I will bake the apple pie.

Still, even though I know I am somewhat on top of the game, I get butterflies in my stomach just thinking about Thursday. That is because I have two less-than-perfect Thanksgivings under my belt.

I hosted Thanksgiving in the first year of our marriage. We'd only been married two months, and I'd never cooked a turkey before in my life. My mother told me not to buy a whole turkey, since there would only be five of us at dinner, but to instead get a turkey breast. Sounded good to me. So I wandered the aisles of my local Giant supermarket, peering in the freezer wells, in search of this elusive cut of bird. Finally, I came across a frozen Butterball, about the size and shape of a regulation football, whose label read: Boneless Breast of Turkey. This must be it, I thought. I can do this!

So on the big day, I stuck the thing in my roasting pan and baked it per the label instructions. My parents and grandmother arrived just as I was pulling it out of the oven. My mother came into the kitchen and asked if I needed any help.

"Oh, no," I assured her, "I've got it all under control."

Then I took the lid off the roasting pan. She glanced at my roast and said, ever so tactfully, "What the hell is that thing?"

I blinked. "I thought you told me to get a turkey breast instead of the whole bird," I reminded her.

She said, "Lori...that's not what I was talking about...that's a rolled turkey with white meat and dark meat. You got the wrong thing!"

Oh, the horror. And she was right! None of my family eats dark meat, and I was mortified when I saw that my little football roast yielded about five slices of white meat. I didn't even have a taste of any turkey that day, because I wanted to make sure that everyone else had some for themselves.

The following year, I decided to buy a whole, frozen bird. How can you mess that up, I thought.

I thought wrong, my friends. You see, there's a little bag of goodies inside that big cavity...that I completely bypassed and DID NOT REMOVE prior to roasting the turkey. Like some kind of wacked-out version of Groundhog Day, my mother swanned into the kitchen again just as I pulled the roaster from the oven. She asked, as customary, "Is there anything I can do to help you here?"

This time, I replied, "Yeah...let the turkey rest for a while, then carve it up."

Half an hour later, she picked up the carving knife and went for broke. She didn't get very far into it, though, when she suddenly cried out, "LORI! You didn't take the giblets out of the cavity!" I watched as her hand snaked into the innards of the bird, and my jaw dropped as she yanked out the bag, still frozen solid. Well, duh. Using an instant-read thermometer, we learned that the roast wasn't even cooked through. So back into the oven it went, for another HOUR. Sheesh. By the time I put it out on the table, everyone had already finished all of the side dishes.

So this year, I've decided that I am most definitely due for a good turkey. Third time's the charm, isn't that how the saying goes?

Feel free to share any or all of your Thanksgiving disasters here...if not just to make me feel better!

Labels: family, food, funny stuff, holidays, marriage, stress

For the past week or so, I have had a vicious, stabbing pain just under my right shoulder blade. It impedes my movement and forces me to sit and move in unnatural ways.

Unfortunately, this pain is not new. It comes and goes during stressful periods in my life. In fact, I call it my "stress knot." It is like a tiny, hard lump of muscle bunching up under my right scapula. I've been asking Brian every ten minutes to press firmly on the sore area with his fingers. This provides me momentary relief, although it is accompanied by a searing, cringeworthy tenderness that makes me yelp out loud as he massages it. Also, I've been sleeping with a heating pad under my back for the past two nights, and I have noticed an improvement upon waking in the morning. But as I get up and get on with my day, the pain returns with a vengeance.

Since I arrived at work this morning, I've been frantically Googling in my quest to find a more permanent solution to this agony. Aside from seeing a massage therapist, I couldn't seem to find any immediate answers to my problem. Then I remembered: yoga.

I had been a faithful yoga practitioner for about two years during my engagement and the first year of our marriage. For reasons which I will disclose in another post, I was going through more than just the typical stress of planning our wedding. I was also trying to tone up a bit for the big day, so I began taking yoga classes, in tandem with weightlifting and a serious walking program. I had always thought that yoga was some kind of new-agey, foo-foo type of activity, but I really liked it and the benefits were measurable and positive. In fact, I'm not really sure why I stopped doing yoga. I should probably pick it up again.

ANYWAY...I sat here in my cubicle, thinking of all the asanas (poses) I knew that might release some of the tightness in my back and shoulders. There exists a basic asana that nevertheless has always been just out of reach for me, even when I was practicing yoga regularly: reverse namaste, or Pascimanamaskarasana, its Sanskrit name. This asana requires you to reach both arms behind you, and bring the palms together upright behind the back, as if praying. It has always challenged me, perhaps due to my naturally tight shoulders and rotator cuffs.

But I am desperate, so I decided to give it a shot, as best as I could here in my chair. I couldn't quite get my palms to meet, but I was able to clasp my fingers together and hold it for a few minutes, breathing deeply. As I unwound my arms, I took another deep breath and noticed (gleefully!) that my shoulder pain was dramatically diminished. So I tried it once more and got the same result. The terrible stabbing pain has been reduced to a dull ache.

If anyone else has any suggestions for me, have at 'em. I am willing to entertain anything!

Labels: health, stress, work

As my period winds down for this month, I’ve been thinking more about my PMS, and PMS in general. I guess I don’t have anything better to do. Anyway, I’ve been trying to figure out why it seems that my PMS, specifically the emotional symptoms, has gotten progressively worse as I’ve gotten older.

I got my first period at age 10 (pretty early, I know). Throughout my teenage years, I don’t think I truly experienced any kind of hormonal swings based on my menstrual cycle. Of course, I always had physical symptoms, like break-outs on my face and especially horrendous cramps that caused me to miss a few days of school nearly every month. Heck, I’d even admit to the odd carbohydrate craving. But I never felt the craziness that I always heard about from TV, books, or from older women. I started to believe that PMS was either a figment of the imagination, or a complete fabrication to excuse occasional bitchiness.

However, in the past four or five years, I have come around and am now an ardent believer in PMS. And it’s gotten worse over the years, not better. There have been a few times during which I have come disturbingly close to convincing myself that killing my husband in a fit of rage over some oversight on his part (loading the dishwasher the “wrong way” or failing to turn on the outside house light when he gets home before me at night) could be deemed justifiable homicide. I have had terrible outbursts over seemingly inconsequential matters during some of my PMS weeks. This past week, Brian did something that otherwise would have only mildly annoyed me, but my initial reaction was to shriek “I want a divorce!” Ahem. Guess my hormones are getting their revenge on me now, for my earlier disbelief in their power.

The thing that surprises me about all this is that I have been on birth control for over ten years, and I thought that the Pill would have a more regulatory effect on my hormones. But I suppose that’s an incorrect assumption.

So I was chatting about this topic over the weekend with my cousin, who is only a year younger than I. She, too, has noticed a shift in her own emotional stability during the dreaded PMS week. She suggested that I talk to my doctor about taking an anti-depressant only during that one week out of each month.

Now, not to get all Tom Cruise on you, dear readers, but I’ve been down the Paxil road before, and while I agree it has its place…I don’t think it’s necessarily the answer to my PMS problems. First of all, most Ads take several weeks, if not months, to kick in. So it wouldn’t make much sense to only take it for a week each month. Also, I spent about six months on Paxil in 2003 for a mild panic problem I was experiencing at the time, and I gained about 15 pounds. Even while exercising regularly and eating less. Yikes. You think that PMS bloat is bad? Try the AD weight gain! Sure, my panic went away, but I had to buy a whole new wardrobe, and I hated getting naked in front of Brian knowing I was heavier. Talk about depressing. I had no sex life and had to drop a wad of cash on new, bigger clothes. Gah.

So I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll just have to deal with the demons for a few days each month, while repeating to myself, “It’s just PMS, it’s just PMS…I don’t really want to divorce Brian, it’s just PMS…” Fortunately, Brian knows me well enough at this point that he understands he must keep his distance during those times. Poor guy. I guess it’s just that self-preservation instinct kicking in.

Labels: deep thoughts, health, marriage, stress

No, this post doesn't have anything to do with Thanksgiving, though I'm already stressing about that...

This morning, on my way to work, I was nearly accosted by a turkey.

You read that right. A turkey!

I see this bird occasionally when I take Brian's "secret" way to work (aka, the back roads through a rural part of Chester County). He told me about it before but I never believed him, mostly because he said to watch out for the big bird. He didn't know it was a turkey.

I saw it for the first time a few weeks ago and almost died laughing. It's one of the ugliest things I've ever seen! But it is GINORMOUS. It really is a big bird. Usually it just hangs out on the side of this tiny, one-lane road I take, next to a very old farmhouse. I guess it's someone's pet. I think its owner lets it out in the morning to take a walk. This strikes me as hilarious, for some reason.

Anyway, like most of us in the Philadelphia region, it was having a bad morning today, but not because of the SEPTA strike. When I turned down this little, narrow road, I noticed a line of cars at the far end of the lane. This struck me as odd, since it's normally a very deserted road. Then I got up to the corner and found out why there was a backup.

This turkey decided to plant itself in the middle of the road. It waddled precariously to and fro, allowing one car at a time to pass it. Of course, when I got to the head of the line, it stopped moving and just stood there, staring directly at me. I honked my horn, hoping to frighten it off the road, but it didn't even ruffle this turkey's feathers (pun intended). Then I rolled down my window and tried to verbally shoo it away. None of my attempts got even the smallest reaction from this bird.

I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw a line of cars idling behind me. So I decided to take a more aggressive course of action. I put my car in Park, opened the door, and walked around to the front of my car. The turkey stood about 10 feet from me. I did my own version of a turkey dance, or at least what I would imagine a turkey dance to be, while saying, "Shoo, shoo, shoo..."
The turkey just looked at me. I know these things aren't known for their high IQs, but I swear that this particular bird knew exactly what it was doing. As it watched me do my little dance, it let out a high-pitched gobble at me IN DEFIANCE...

Then it lunged at me.

Man, those birds can move! For such an ungainly-looking creature, it covered a lot of distance very quickly. I squealed and jumped back into my car. Just as I slammed the door, it began pecking on my driver's window. If I had been just a moment slower, my ass would've been taking that pecking!

So this Thanksgiving, as I sink my teeth into that delicious bird, I will have a new respect for the turkey.

Labels: funny stuff, local news, Philadelphia, Philly burbs, stress, weird, work