Rants and comments with Bibi

Flying time

2010-06-21T15:32:00.000-05:00

I knew that I had a blog and that in the past I would occasionally write in it. Upon review, I learned that I haven't touched said blog since the Christmas entry by Brynn. I will make more regular attempts to post.

Lately, I've been making preparations for Brynnie's 1st birthday party . . . can it be that a year has already whizzed by? Seriously, the fastest 12 months in human record have just blown through the Buell house, but it feels like the quantity and quality of the love in the house has gone up in record percentages as well.

On June 10th, Mr. Buell and I were married for 10 years!! We celebrated by going to Vegas and renewing our vows at the "Fabulous Graceland Wedding Chapel." Bon Jovi was married there and now we were : ) Our dear friends, Nic and Kelly came with us and the four of us had a splendid time. The best part may be watching Nic's rendition of Elvis leading us through the renewal vows, " . . . your ring is round, like a circle, like your love . . ." Nicely put, Elvis. The meal from The Mix, may have been the most beautiful, delicious food ever and we felt like some pretty fancy folks dining way up there. Definitely worth revisiting. (The windows are mirrored, do not use flash photography while using the loo.)

Being in love while you're courting, not hard. Imagining growing old with someone while planning your wedding, not hard. The first year of marriage, the hardest. Deciding that you are committed and still mad for one another after that first year, a feat of courage. All that said, we made it. We made it through that nightmare of a first year, where I wanted to stomp my feet, go home to my folks, and tell him to forget it. Growing up and having responsibility is NOT my cup of tea. I just wanted all the fun and the dates and the romance; not the, did you pay the rent? all my clothes are dirty, I hate what you cook, I want to cry, I thought you'd change, once we were married; that I got. Brandon has endured a lot of not-so-wonderful moments with me and for that I am humbled and thank him. I love you, Mr. Buell! You're a fantastic father to our little girl, a loving and supportive husband and I still love working to make you laugh after all this time; I look forward to the challenge of living, loving and laughing with you for the next 10, and the 10 after that, and the 10 after that . . .

A word from Brynnie:
Yesterday was Father's Day - our first one. Mama and I made Daddy French Toast for breakfast, cut the grass, got him a new camera to take pictures of me with and treated him with a king-sized KitKat. I am the luckiest little gal in the world, I help my daddy do his work everyday and I adore him so. When it got time for dinner, Daddy got marinated chicken breasts for grill, carrots and Brussels sprouts. I LOVE CHICKEN! I eat almost a whole piece by myself. (I have 8 teeth and they make it easy.) I hate Brussels sprouts and can easily separate them from my chicken. On Saturday we partied with Mama's family as two of my cousins are new high school graduates and we celebrated their success. I went on my first hay ride! WEEEE that was fun and Auntie Shirley shared/spilled her bottle of water with me. It was most refreshing.

Buell Family Christmas

2009-11-11T08:55:00.000-06:00

Our household's submission to Bonnie's annual Christmas letter.

Brandon’s Family –

Grandpa Chuck said that this year each household is responsible for its own annual update, in my house I drew the short straw. First off, allow me to introduce myself, I am the follically-challenged young lady in the front row, my name is Brynn Alicyn Buell and I was born on July 26 after my strong mommy pushed just three times. My brave daddy held her hand and said “push” and here I was. Before I arrived Mommy (Lunchbox) and Daddy (Driver) were very busy. They turned their office into my room; it is pink and brown and has pretty curtains and a T.V., helped landscape Uncle Jordan and Aunt Holly’s new house and built and landscaped a patio at our house. They spent the last few days waiting for me enjoying fires in the fire pit and cooking on the grill. When I arrived, I already had a big cousin, Finnegan, he is very fun. I hear about my wonderful, Great-Grandpa Sam, who had to go to Heaven before I got here. I know I love him and that he loves me.

Since my arrival I have been busy traveling. When I was three-weeks-old, I visited the Montana Buells. I rode the whole way there in my car seat. I had a fabulous time playing with cousin Matine, she is also a very calm, and smiley baby and I miss her so much. While we were out West, I went to Yellowstone Park, Mount Rushmore and Wall Drug. I am also busy learning some trades, my Glamma is letting me apprentice at the cheese store, and I assist my daddy as he does real estate sales and appraisals. Most recently, I went to Michigan to visit Mommy’s sister, on October 30th she had a baby boy and now I have a little cousin! As you can see I am very busy with some of the best folks a gal could hope for. Wishing you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Love, Brynnie

The birth story - Welcome to the world and our lives, Brynnie!

2009-09-15T11:13:00.024-05:00

Okay, so if you were queesed out by the water breaking story this may not be your cup of tea . . .
My due date was July 24, 2009

At birth, I weighed 9 lbs. 13 oz. and was 21 1/2 inches long - a pretty big baby to say the least. In fact, my mother was instructed to feed me formula with cereal and fruit when I was just 1 1/2 weeks old, as nursing wouldn't be enough for my big body and appetite. (This was 1977, so no doctors are being blamed for any suggestions, I'm alive and very healthy.)

At my 38 week appointment (my appointments landed on Tuesdays and my weeks changed on Fridays) my doctor decided to help things along by "sweeping my membranes" (Google if you want the science behind this treatment) to help me avoid delivering a 10 pound baby myself, this being mid-July and me wearing feet the size of watermelons, I was game to get this process moving!

Indeed I did get some more regular contractions and felt more activity in my nether region. Since the night my membranes had been swept, I would be up for 3 1/2 hours in the middle of the night with VERY regular contractions, when morning would come, they'd taper off and I'd go to work.

That Thursday (July 16) I was at work, feeling funky, and the contractions picked up that afternoon and lasted about an hour and a half. I timed them at 2 minutes apart, called Brandon and told him that we were at code yellow and to get into the "ready" position. Apparently Baby Daddy didn't like my non-emergency approach to this labor activity and called our doctor's office, who in turn called me at work and told me to get to St. Mary's to be checked. (Remember I had been to St. Mary's before and been sent home sans baby.) Being scolded by the nurse didn't make me too happy, but I had been "in labor" irregularly for a week now, so I went. We waddle into L & D (labor and delivery) triage, get hooked up to the monitors, get checked by the resident, my cervix is changed to 2-3 c.m. and 50-60% effaced. Not enough to get a room at St. Mary's so I am sent away to "labor at home." If you've ever been given this diagnosis, it's about the most boring and disappointing news a 9 1/2 month pregnant woman can be given. I call into work and talk with Boss Tom, he tells me to stay home and they realize I'm having a baby and not to worry about work - this helps my mind rest at least, but now what would I do to keep busy?

For the next two days, we help our brother and sister-in-law landscape their new yard. I was told some activity would help regulate the contractions and may get Baby Buell here. Also, Brandon wasn't letting me out of his sight, so to the landscape party I went. (He was very well-intentioned, but watched me like maybe the baby would fall out and without his ever-present watchful eye, my lackadaisical self wouldn't notice nor let him know.)

The weekend came and went with no baby. We would have been smart to change our outgoing voice messages to reflect that, but our family and friends love us and it was nice to get to chat with EACH AND EVERY ONE of them.

Monday July 20 arrives. After landscaping Jordan and Holly's house, we figured we may as well finish up the landscaping on our new patio. In June my wonderful dad, Rusty, and Brandon had totally remodeled our small deck into a two-level deck with patio; complete with a dining area and fire pit. This must have done the trick, or so I thought, because for 8 hours that day; at 5 minute intervals, I had fairly strong contractions! I wasn't going to jump the gun and go screaming into St. Mary's, so I gave the contractions 8 hours before calling the nurse. Of course, with that information, I was instructed to head to St. Mary's and "good luck" as it sounded like Baby Buell would be joining us soon! OH BOY!! We're really going to have our baby this time! We get checked in, checked out and settle in for what we think could really be the big event. Again, my cervix checks out at 2-3 c.m. and 50-60% effaced. I'm instructed to walk the halls for 2 hours to see if that makes me dilate more. Around 11:30, I'm checked again and I haven't changed at all, still 2-3 and 50-60, I'm sent home, but given something to help me sleep since by this point, I've been awake for about a week. I cry a bit on the way home. Maybe I'll be pregnant forever.

I did some drawings and Dad and Brandon turned them into this great patio! Brandon built the rails, which turned out really cool.

At my 39 week appointment, (at which, I was technically 39 1/2 weeks) I was still contracting and was still 2-3 c.m. and 50-60 % effaced. Dr. Clevidence (God bless him; truly) decides that enough is enough and he calls St. Mary's to schedule an induction. They have availability that coming Saturday (as they don't want to do anything until someone has actually reached their 40 week mark) at 11:3O a.m.. So that was it, it was set; we would have our bouncing baby girl sometime on July 25. Much relieved we spent much of the rest of that week on our new patio talking with neighbors and imagining our life with our new family member. What would she be like? Who would she look like? Would she get my red hair? Brandon's face? My jokes? Brandon's negotiation? We even helped our dear friends, the Hermsmeiers, paint their living room - hey, if I did enough activity to have that baby on my own, I wasn't completely opposed to it.
Friday, July 24 (our actual due date) we finish up our wills with our attorney (our future was much clearer to us now, and caring for our progeny took a more prominent place in our minds), go out for dinner, and make all the necessary phone calls about tomorrow's big events.
Saturday morning comes! You know we didn't sleep at all that night, we get up early and get going, we're almost giddy!! We leave our house in Cottage Grove and make plans for a big circle around town to get our errands ran and can make it to the hospital by 11:30. (Brandon and I need things to do to keep our minds busy.) We stop off at Oregon to drop our dogs off with Jordan and Holly who will be babysitting our furkids while we're at the hospital. We continue further west to pick up my mom's ring from being repaired at the jeweler. She asks, "what are you guys doing today?" As nonchalantly as I can, "We're having the baby." She said she'd never been told that before. I suspect that she's telling the truth. From the jeweler we go to Denny's for some breakfast, since I'd been told that I wouldn't be able to eat anything once I was checked in at the hospital. We hit the beltline and are minutes from the hospital. Brandon and I look at each other and giggle, we're having our baby today!
My cell phone rings. It's the hospital. Too many women went into labor the night before (it had been a full moon) and they don't have enough beds, would I mind coming tomorrow morning? I could have 5:30 or 7:30. I pick 5:30, I hadn't been sleeping at night anyhow, so what was a couple of hours AND if they were in the habit of making bump calls, I was already going to be there! So what to do now? Cry for a second and head home. We order Chinese, play farkle on the patio and then answer the phone; "no, we're home, there was no room at the hospital, no really, no we're not kidding, yes we go tomorrow at 5:30, no, we're serious."

Sunday, July 26, 5:30 a.m. we're checked in at St. Mary's labor and delivery department. They had been expecting us; finally. We get into our room, my folks show up - they had committed to spending the entire day with us, so they could finally meet their first natural grandchild. About 20 minutes to 7, I get my first dose of misoproxil (I am a candidate for this procedure over a pitocin induction because I was in labor, but my cervix wasn't changing) after 4 hours I will be checked for any changes and the next course of action will be determined. I had several wonderful nurses, with whom we chatted and got to know while we waited. One, who seemed to be familiar with a misoproxil induction knew about the 4 hour rule, and discussed with me the options at the end of the first dose; a second dose, a different drug, being sent home to labor at home. I figured she had to be kidding! I think I politely said, "I'm not going home." She was kidding right? I looked at my mom, who saw that idea was almost too much for me and smiled in her way. In the back of my mind I comforted myself with the idea that Dr. Clevidence wouldn't support that plan, that's why I was being induced in the first place, right! She had to be mistaken and hadn't read my whole chart.
Around 11 a.m. I am checked again, would you believe I was still 2-3 c.m. and 50-60%? A second dose is administered, they also placed an I.V. in case they needed to administer medication to me in a timely manner. This second dose intensified the contractions and I start to feel really uncomfortable. I used the birthing ball, wandered the halls, sat in the tub, anything I could do to maintain comfort and stave off the use of an epidural. I figured I was tough enough to do this without an epidural and if I could keep myself comfortable, I would. Halfway through this second dose, I had contractions every minute, my mom would come watch them on the monitor and point out to me when I'd have them and how strong they were. (I knew.) At this point I received a shot of pain medicine through my I.V. which helped me to relax my muscles and breathing between contractions. I figured we'd be at go time soon and that thought kept me occupied enough that I was confident that when my cervix was checked at the end of the 4 hours I would be at the magical 10 c.m.
3 p.m. arrives, I'm almost excited to be checked, I had been enjoying such strong contractions, I just knew I'd be complete. Guess what! 2-3 c.m. and 50-60% effaced. No, I'm not kidding. The nurse calls Dr. Clevidence to see which course of action he thinks we should take. He suggests breaking my water. So at about 3:30, he breaks my water. It feels like the biggest warmest pee accident a person could have, now I know my time in the tub is up, all I want to do is wipe. They look at the clock, tell me it takes about 1 hour to dilate 1 centimeter and I should be having the baby yet that evening. They show me the call button and to let them know if I needed anything and that they'd go out to let me rest up for a while and they'd check on me in a bit. We all breathe a sigh of relief, she'd really be here sometime today! My folks decide that since they have 7 hours they'd go for coffee. I joked and told them, I'd hang out in my room 'til they got back. After about an hour I realize the difference in the contractions I'd been having and what BIG contractions were. WHOA - this was some pain. I glance at the clock, 4:30. I squeeze Brandon's hand and tell him, through my teeth, "I am giving up, I can't do this for 6 more hours, I changed my mind, I am not being tough anymore and I want that epidural! NOW!" He looks in my eyes and sees that I'm serious and dashes out the door to find my nurse.
After a bit he returns with my nurse, Amy. She is fantastic, really knowledgeable, I like her and trust her. She says "I need to check you before we can give you your epidural." She checks, looks at me and says she'll be right back. Where could she be going? What was wrong? Could I still be at 2-3 c.m.?? She returns with the resident, she checks me as well. She tells us, that we'll be having a baby that day. We thought that seemed like silly news since that was our whole plan for that day anyhow. She tells us, she'll be right back with Dr. Clevidence. Now I worry. What was wrong? Was Baby Buell in trouble? Did some hidden male parts show themselves? Did I poop? They get Dr. Clevidence, he gets his gloves almost on and they lift the sheet so he can see what was going on. Nurse Amy gets in my sight line and says, "guess what? You're going to get that natural childbirth you wanted, you're complete, it's time to push."
Whoa! That's what all the pain was. I changed 7 c.m. in an hour. She was already crowning, Brandon took a glance and confirmed that information. Here's the good part about taking 7 hours to dilate 7 centimeters; you "stretch." The good news about taking 1 hour to dilate 7 centimeters is, you dilate 7 centimeters in 1 hour. The bad news, you do less stretching and more tearing, like in all directions, the pain I had felt was actually my vagina being torn by the baby as she was making her way south. OUCH!
The nurse places the birthing equipment under me, they wheel in the surgical table and Dr. Clevidence almost gets his coat on when I scream, "I want to poop!" They say that's good and to try, I push 3 times. With the first 2 Brynn is out, the placenta followed with the 3rd. Brandon watches and reports up to me the progress each one brings. "Her head is out!" "She's perfect!" I confirm that it is indeed a girl. It is. They place her on my chest. I try to hold her, but my muscles are jello from adrenaline and pushing and I fear that I'll drop her. Brandon asks if I want to hold her some more, I said, "take her to my mother" I could hear that my folks had tried to come into the room with their coffee, while I was pushing and Brandon yelled, "it's not a good time!"
From the door I could hear when my mother saw my baby, "She looks just like Bridgie!" and my dad started snapping pictures. They already liked her, strike that, already LOVED her.
While I was being sewn up and getting the chord blood collected, which took an hour, Brandon volleyed from my folks to me carrying our precious bundle. He was smiling so big, he looked like he'd been carrying a baby everyday of his life and she was totally comfortable with him.

I couldn't believe it, I had a baby girl, she was perfectly healthy and she looked just like me.
Here's what I knew for certain: I was in a hospital bed, holding a miniature version of myself. A perfectly healthy, darling who belonged to me.
She took a look at me and knew that I was hers. Within a few minutes she'd figured out how to nurse. She made me look like I knew what I was doing. She didn't cry, she watched the activity around her, held my finger and owned everyone around her. She was wiped clean, weighed and placed back in my arms.

We got wheeled to our room for the rest of our stay, where Brandon's family met their newest family member. My mom and dad headed out so they could get some rest, I was looking forward to doing the same and just holding and looking at Brynn Alicyn Buell who finally came to the world on July 26 at 5:05 p.m. weighing 8 lbs. 3 oz. and 20 inches long. After being there nearly 12 hours we'd arrived a twosome and were now a threesome.
How could any day compete with that? We had the love of our lives in each other and now with each other. Despite my shortcomings, I was blessed beyond measure.

Was that my water?

2009-06-08T10:50:00.009-05:00

We're at 33 weeks now - things are moving right along, and that's good. I would guess I'm at the, "I'm tired and uncomfortable all the time" stage of pregnancy and getting anxious for Brynn to make her debut.

I'll put a disclaimer right here - the post you are about to read is graphic and honest. If you don't want some personal information about me and pregnancy, stop reading now. Okay, fair is fair; you want to read and I want to write, we're in agreement you will now be privvy to some privy.

Last week Thursday, June 4, I noticed on two occasions that my pants were wet. Not dripping like I just exited a pool wet, but wet. I am 31 years old and I know what it feels like to urinate. Not having the typical, "I just peed" sensation and noticing the wetness I thought maybe this was the "my water broke" moment I'd seen on TV and in movies so many times. Which as you know is followed by 10 minutes of contractions and a woman screaming and then they're holding a clean, lovely baby.

Upon leaving the ladies' room, I polled a couple co-workers. "What was it like when your water broke?" "Mine never broke, I had a c-section." "I had contractions and went to the hospital, they broke it for me." Hmm, this was information, that although generously offered, gave little insight. What next? Let's ask my old friend Google. Let's just see what they had to say on the topic of water breaking. Hmm, more ambiguity. I sent a text to Baby Daddy, "wet pants water broke?" He wrote back suggesting I call the doctor. Not wanting to be the lady who thought her water may be breaking and didn't call the doctor, I did. They said, "get to St. Mary's." Apparently the symptoms I described over the phone sounded like water breaking to them. So I call Baby Daddy and my mom and give them the update, my water may have broke and I'm on my way to the hospital. I drive to the hospital in a panic. "Oh no, I don't have an overnight bag, I don't have a car seat, oh no, oh no, what will we do, what if she comes and she's way too little? oh no, oh no." You know all those things that run through your mind, when you feel completely unprepared for something. Not one reassuring thought came to me.

I get to St. Mary's and check in at OB triage two minutes before Baby Daddy (Brandon) arrived.
Once settled into our room, I get a fetal heart rate monitor and contraction monitor attached to my belly. The heart rate is really regular and the nurse said it was just how they like it to be at this stage in the game. She also noticed that I didn't seem to be having any regular contractions, so that was good too. I explain to her that, I felt a bit foolish, but didn't want to really be experiencing labor and not to have gone to be checked out. She told me that was what they had the whole OB triage center for, and that it was better to be safe than sorry.

An hour or so goes by and heart rate and all other vitals still seem to be fine. Nurse explains the test we will be having to know for sure if we are indeed leaking amniotic fluid. A long cotton swab is to be inserted near the cervical opening, held for one minute, and then placed in a solution that will test for amniotic fluid. Hey, being pregnant you get to enjoy more than one encounter of new people and things with your cervical opening (which is just another name for vagina), so this long slender cotton swab didn't seem to pose too much threat.

WHOA!! Hold on a minute! The kind nurse, who works in OB triage, who, I thought, would be more than capable of this cotton swab test - I mean everyone who comes in shows their "goods" right? She goes in for the collection portion of the exam and misses!! I don't know what she hit, my guess had always been that I had exactly 3 holes, but the space that she insisted on poking that swab was not one of them, oh and not just poke but leave there for the requisite ONE minute. I said, "ow!" She said, "oh, there are so many folds."
So many folds? What does that mean? Do I have an abnormal number of folds? Should I be calling the Guinness people? So many like, 7? or 2?
Instead of replacing the swab, we leave this one here and watch all 60 seconds tick by. When she opens the vial of reactant to place my swab in, it's empty! No reactant solution! We need to repeat the swab part of the test! Yay - you can imagine my excitement for the re-test. This time she double checks beforehand and indeed there is reactant in the vial. She also finds the right "spot" with the swab - as I suspected when in the right spot, the swab didn't cause any pain.

I'll mention here that for several days following the poke heard 'round the world, that using the bathroom was quite uncomfortable. Also, I asked Baby Daddy, if indeed my fold situation was unlike others he was familiar with, in his limited experience, and how he was able to locate the appropriate place with such a high degree of accuracy. We determined that at worst he was shooting 60% and the OB nurse had scored 1 out of 2 times, therefore acquiring an overall score of 50%.

So when all was said and done and the swab was placed in the test vial, it did not react and therefore was not amniotic fluid. Which is a relief, because as anxious as we are to meet Baby Brynn, we didn't want it to be quite this soon.

So what was going on? Another 45 minutes go by and the Resident comes in and explains the wetness in my pants may have been an increase in vaginal secretions OR that as baby is getting ready to come out and has moved lower in my pelvis, she can actually hit my bladder, sending pee out that I don't feel as urination. Great, so I peed myself without the sensation of peeing myself. Gross. Will I start shatting myself without the sensation of shatting myself now too? UGH! I am so ready for this to be over, Depends undergarments and back up pants are not something I want to be toting around for the next month.

So while we are still "lost in the folds" ahem, of pregnancy, I'll be updating more of my journey. I hope I've not shared too much or that if I have you've related and chuckled along with me as maybe you or someone close to you has had the same experience.

The Placenta Monologues no. 3

2009-05-28T13:10:00.004-05:00

May 24, 2008
Oh boy, oh boy! Hear that Centa? We're going to a wedding! I love weddings, the people, the love, the flowers, the cake, and of course DANCING!!

Gosh, Centa, Ma sure is spending a lot of time trying to make herself look and smell pretty. Too bad she still looks like she lost a fight with a bees nest and is all swollen and poofy. Poor thing . . . I'm sure with our help she'll be looking better soon. I mean it can't get much worse!

So, the part of the wedding at the church was okay, the bride looked so pretty and her flowers smelled so nice. After that I got McNuggets at McDonald's 'cause Ma got real hungry and didn't think she'd last 3 hours without food, which was okay with me, since I really really like nuggets.

The next part of the day was at a really pretty building near Lake Monona. There were all kinds of people there all dressed up. Then we went into a room were we ate chicken and then it was time to DANCE!! I love to dance, I mean it is so fun, I just bounce around, kick my feet, wave my arms and swing my cord! Apparently, Ma is one heck of a dancer too . . . I overheard a surprise! While Ma was out on the floor shaking it big time and doing a cross between disco and the running man, the DJ said, "That baby's gonna be a rock star!" Did you hear that, Centa? A ROCK STAR! I am so excited, not decided yet on guitar, bass or vocals, but a rock star none-the-less!

The Placenta Monologues

2009-05-26T11:18:00.002-05:00

May 1, 2009
WHOA Centa!! I can see you a bit more clearly now and no offense, but you're ugly!! I thought you were a toy. Granted, the most boring toy ever, but something for my amusement none the less, you are ugly and not a toy at all!!
You're soft and warm, but oh yuck, Centa have you looked in a mirror??? I've got bad news, our living arrangements suck and now this, not a toy, not a blanket, no t.v. no facebook . . . I hate it here.
My room is dark and damp, it's like living in a basement and Ma's upstairs. She'll probably start charging rent soon . . .
I hope she see's that guy with the low voice soon, he's so nice and usually takes us somewhere.

The Placenta Monologues

2009-05-26T09:54:00.003-05:00

Brandon (Baby Daddy) and I have fun pretending what Brynn is doing in utero. In fact we've made up a few situations that make us giggle, so I thought (until I get bored, distracted or otherwise just don't think it's funny anymore) I'd share here a number of posts called, "The Placenta Monologues."

Let me set the stage for you, Baby Daddy and I are both highly social, talkative people with short attention spans. Please do not use that against us or doubt our integrity, work ethic, or intelligence, it is just the case that we never run short of things to chat about. We suspect that with that kind of "skill set" coming from both genomes, our daughter will be a chatterer as well. She may even be holding conversations with her only companion right now, that companion is of course, Placenta or "Centa" as we imagine she's so familiar, she's given the placenta a nickname.

April 24, 2009
Centa, I'm glad you're here. I'm very bored and "you know who" is hardly ever paying attention to me. I hear her over and over, "Hello, this is Bridget at the Lottery." What does that even mean? Sometimes she pokes into my room and I try to reach her, but these damned fingers are good for nothing, so I just smack a fist at her.
Centa? Have you been here this whole time? Remember back to the holidays? Those were fun, so much going on and new places to stop and use the bathroom at. I was not cramped in here at all. Now it seems like she just sits. I hope tonight she sends down another one of those root beer floats. They really make me burp, but are they good . . .

Yes I'm pregnant, no you may not.

2009-05-08T08:22:00.018-05:00

So, I realize I don't write often, sorry.

I'm sure anyone who reads this, who has ever been pregnant will find some truth to my rantings, my husband; however, thinks I'm just being angry.

Okay, so as "beautiful" as pregnancy is (and catch the hint of sarcasm here) it's personal, happening to some one's body, and EACH of us who has been born lived in a pregnant person for some point in our lives! As for the beauty aspect of this procedure, anyone ever pass gas while pregnant, or belched and had food come out, or acquired a new bodily odor, or developed super greasy hair or complexion, or had their feet look like baked potatoes, or leaked anything from anywhere or developed dark circles? You get my point, it ain't so "beautiful."

So, pregnancy is not that uncommon actually, look around, see anybody? They were born and therefore had 50% participation in a pregnancy. Why then, do people who you don't know, don't care about, don't speak to, don't respect the opinions of, offer anecdotes to you, offer you information on any topic under the sun and/or insist on touching you? I apologize here to any "well intentioned" person who falls into that category, but I've been doing my best to let all those "well intentions" roll off my back, but I've had a rough week and am feeling like addressing the feelings I'm experiencing - after all they are part of this miracle called pregnancy and everyone feels that my business is now their business right?

Okay, so the topic of breastfeeding, why is it anyone's business? Why would anyone care? Why would anyone have any interest, what-so-ever, in what I do with my ta tas? Why do you think I care about what you do with your ta tas?

I found it interesting the first few times I was asked, but by now I'm just plain old sick of the topic. You're pregnant, either people can see that or they've been told . . . why is the VERY NEXT question, "are you going to breastfeed?" I personally was shocked as Hell to learn I was expecting and it took a while for me to process that information alone, I did not need to be dragged into a discussion on what to feed the baby once it got here! I am not for or against breastfeeding, I don't really care, so WHY is it the topic everyone is dying to discuss?

Yes, I get the benefits, I can read about them all day if I want. I don't need your dissertation on the subject. Also, I understand the negatives and those too can be read about ad nauseum.

Pumping, nipple calluses, colostrum, milk storage, nipple preparedness, latching, side-switching etc. not topics for work, not topics to be discussed with your supervisor, not topics for me to discuss with hardly anyone! Let me share with you what my supervisor (yes my boss) shared with me yesterday and I'll let you know that this conversation came right on the heals of the Governor's speech on cutting my pay and possibly my job! I may not be 100% sure of what I'll feed the baby once she arrives, but if mommy's got no job or health insurance it won't much matter!

Preface - this conversation took place in the office, in my work unit; not in a private area like a conference room or a restroom. "Bridget, you're going to breastfeed right?" "I'll try, I'm not committed one way or the other." (My first unsuccessful attempt at "not your business, boss.") "Oh well you'll have to the first couple days while you're at the hospital anyway." "Oh." "What you've got to do is; and my daughters told me I was right after they had their babies and didn't do it is, when you're in the shower take a washcloth and really rub on your nipples, it'll really hurt and be sore, but you need to start getting a callus. Start doing it now, you're already 7 months." I don't say much at this point, but my jaw has dropped. "Oh are you using butter?" "What? No." "Cocoa butter, on your belly so you don't get stretch marks?" "Oh yes I do use the cocoa butter, I don't have any marks, my belly is just pale white, but smooth." "Oh and know where else you need to use it? Your boobs and your butt, my boobs look like a road map now." She pulls down her shirt so I can see, obliging I raise my shirt and show part of my smooth pale belly. She continues, "Yeah my husband jokes about my nipples now, they're huge, my kids had a mouthful." "Oh," I put my head down and walk back to my desk.

Why did I need to have that experience? I don't know, but I promise you this, dear reader, unless you ask specific questions about my pregnancy, I will not offer you unsolicited advice.

Oh yeah sure, it's just part of my body, go ahead and touch.

I've seen a number of men with protruding stomachs, a large percentage of non-pregnant women have them too. I've never run up and felt their bulges or stared for long periods of time at the parts of their structure that go past their skeletons. You get pregnant though, and the one thing that you're supposed to be protecting and keeping healthy is now property of the world. I don't let just anyone touch my dogs or come in my house, why would I welcome your grubby little hands to investigate my person. Until I was in "the family way" I just didn't realize how real of an experience the belly touching phenomenon is, I thought those women were simply exaggerating their encounters, not so. Strangers and non-friends are the first groups to grope.

I have been asked by very considerate, but curious people if they could touch the belly or feel the baby kick. To them, I give an enthusiastic, "Yes, sure, let me help you feel where she's moving the most." To other people, with whom I feel comfortable, I offer, "Would you like to touch the belly?" Or, "She's moving now, do you want to feel?" In these instances, I am very happy to share my experiences, and to experience something very personal with you. It is exciting that she's moving around in there and getting bigger and stronger all the time.

I wish that Brandon could have more of the "female" participation in this. He would really enjoy the special bonding time and being around for all of those kicks and movements. In addition to his being more parental than me, he's taller with a longer torso and wouldn't look quite so much like a baked potato.

Here is a recent shot of the belly and Brynn's room, it's nearly complete!

Bridget, Brandon, Michael and Samantha.

Brynn's crib (thank you, Mimi and Grampy!), bookcase and the rocker Grandma Hud gave us.

Brandon did all the painting and my Grandma Hud and I made the drapes.

So what is it?

2009-03-25T10:34:00.009-05:00

Our minds are still reeling from the 7 weeks we've known we'd be having a baby, even though we're at week 22. You'd be in a jumble too. Most expectant couples spend those first 2 months sharing an intimate secret, picking names, dreaming about what the misses would look like with a baby belly, thinking about how they'd tell their parents that soon they'd be grandparents, and all those plans that people make. Instead of 2 months, we had 2 days of those secret plans before my belly popped and the "world" knew we were pregnant. Not that I'm making excuses, I'm just saying there's been a lot to digest in a short period of time with an even shorter period of time to get ready for baby. We hit the ground running, we're like the Marines of pregnancy, we not only just jumped out of a helicopter, but there was no parachute and we're landing in a rice pattie full of Charlie.

So when you find out you're pregnant at week 17, and have a 20 week ultrasound where the sonographer can determine the sex of your baby, you figure you might as well know, right? I mean since you're now into knowing things the more the better, and people are going to ask.

So we're excited now because all that waiting had been killing us, 3 whole weeks to find out if baby Buell is a boy or a girl!?
Have you had an ultrasound? Have you been told about this "full bladder" business?? Have you tried to maintain even the tinsiest bit of pee in your bladder? Have you ever tried to maintain the tinsiest bit of pee in your bladder while you've been 5 months pregnant? This is like sniper training, if the rest has been like being in the Marines. So, Brandon picks me up to make our appointment with the sonographer, I've now had 2 - 16.9 oz. bottles of water and a 12 oz. bottle of juice to ensure that indeed my bladder is good and full as they require. "DON'T DRIVE CRAZY!" "DON'T HIT ANY BUMPS!" We make it to the clinic. Brandon drops me at the door and I waddle in, he parks the truck and meets me inside. "There will be a short wait"; perfect. We take our seats across from and older gentleman sitting by himself. After a failed attempt at reading 'National Geographic en Espanol', Brandon finds himself looking around the waiting room, he sees a restroom and uses it. I hate him with every ounce of my being for that. Once Brandon returns, the older gentleman strikes up a conversation with us. Topic of this conversation - his colonoscopy. Right now discussing someone else's trips to the bathroom are near the bottom of my list of things to discuss, particularly with a stranger. Not that I don't have compassion for my fellow man or the polyps they've found in this man, I just needed to keep my brain away from discussions involving toilets, bowels, frequency, etc. I've been holding it now for about 20 minutes, to alleviate the stress on my bladder I stand up. I now have the attention of the entire waiting room crowd, including the receptionist who makes a face at me like, "oh no, please don't let her be a terrorist." I grimaced and said with my best, trying to be quiet but still moving my lips voice, "I just really have to pee." She, looking relieved, started up a tutorial on how I could maybe use some trick . . . the door opened and the technician called me back. Whew! Boy was I excited to get this appointment moving! I hop up on the table and the sonographer starts the exam. "Whoa, your bladder is too full. You need to get some of that out." On the screen is a BIG BLACK BLOB underneath that, a tiny shuddering fetus. "Is that my bladder?" "Yes, take this cup and fill it twice, then I'll be able to see your baby better." She hands me a 12 oz. styrofoam coffee cup. I fill it twice and come back to the exam feeling much relieved. She starts again, with what she had described as a 2 hour exam. "It's still too full, go fill the cup twice again." I'm not one to brag, or maybe I am, but it required some pretty mad ninja skills to stop peeing after two cupfuls the first time, but if I had 2 hours before I'd be "going" for real, I took a stab at filling that cup for the second time. Success! Again I get back up on the table for the exam. STILL TOO FULL, she tells me just to go and empty my bladder until I am comfortable. (Remember, you and I have been told that a full bladder is of the utmost importance in getting a good ultrasound picture.) Now I go to the toilet and, nothing. My body had decided that this was some kind of evil torture and to hold on. After 5 minutes I finally started to pee and got it all out.

Back up on the table for the 3rd time, we start the exam. Brandon and I keeping our eyes intent on the screen for a glimpse at what could tell us, boy or girl. The technician was very interested in measuring the head, it seemed like she measured and re-measured the size of baby's head for an hour. As much as we want all parts to be "normal" and functioning, the head was not really the body part of intrigue today. She keeps measuring and remeasuring things, time ticking away and no big announcement. Instead, after like an hour and a half of looking at the "head." She calmly says, "Well, I'm not seeing a penis." Brandon and I look at each other and both say, "but isn't that the head?" "No that's not the head, that's the abdomen." Relieved we both say, "good because we wouldn't want one there. So what are you telling us?" She says, "I think you're getting a pink one." (Secretly that's what we wanted and were delighted out of our skin, but wanted to maintain our "we're really glad so long as it's healthy" faces.) I want to know just how confident she is with her guess. "I work at the Lottery and do a fair bit of explaining odds, tell me out of how many total guesses you've been correct." She says 99%. Good enough for us. As we leave the clinic we call all the grandparents and aunts and uncles to tell them the news. We were particularly concerned with Grandma Buell as she had instructed us to have a girl.

So that's the story, Brynn Alicyn will arrive sometime in July.
Now the fun part - shopping!

You'll shoot your eye out.

2009-02-25T20:52:00.003-06:00

I'm 18 weeks pregnant now and these past few days have been eye-opening. No, I probably won't shoot them out they're open so wide, but what you've heard is true, you can pee your pants. I'd heard it before and thought, "losers, I'm fully potty-trained, I ain't gonna pee my pants no matter what."

He he he, life will smack you in the head, I mean read my previous post if you want to see about life and collisions with my head.

So Monday night I'm getting ready to leave the house for a music class and decide I'd better use the bathroom before I'm stuck in the class for a couple hours, on my way to the bathroom, I sneeze three times. "Achoo, Achoo, Achoo, I peed!" Brandon follows me on my run to the bathroom, where we survey the damage and both laugh until we cry.

Today at work, I giggled and you guessed it, more pee. I use pantyliners now. I guess I'll be relying on them until July.

I hate being pregnant.

Telling your husband he's a "baby daddy."

2009-02-25T19:05:00.010-06:00

So if you've read my blog before you probably get that I'm not a huge "baby person", nor has it been my life's dream/plan/vision to make babies. That being said, it's actually a pretty humorous story how we find ourselves in the boat of expectant parents.

If you go back to my nose job post http://rantsandcommentswithbibi.blogspot.com/2008/11/new-nose.html, that takes us all the way back to October. At that point in time we tossed around the idea of baby makin', but because I'd be having surgery we waited to "try" until after I was free and clear of the surgery and pain meds, besides looking at those pictures I was, "none too sexy." We make an "attempt," I have a negative pregnancy test and what I think is a period a couple weeks later. Whew! Scary, but looks like we're in the clear! Besides the holidays are coming and I've got traveling to do and that massive Thanksgiving meal to prepare, I don't have time to be pregnant and I wasn't 100% on that plan anyhow.

I have some weight gain and a couple pimples, but who didn't put on a little weight over the holidiays? In addition to recovering from my surgery and "taking it easy" I added a bulging disc to the equation and could barely walk, so exercise took a back seat. Now those extra pounds and sleepiness don't seem completely out of the norm.

Holiday parties commence and just to be sure it's safe to partake in the free-flowing booze I take another pregnancy test just to be sure that's not the reason for the weight gain. Again, negative. So I live up the holiday season adding a squishiness to my middle, but writing it off as my back problem and the holiday eating. I've had 2 negative pregnancy tests by now and not really a "missed" period. Yes the periods were "different," but not non-existent.

Here I'll tell you about my sister. I am the older sister by 15 months. For my entire life, I've been strong and healthy. In recent years I've endured some interesting health situations, but nothing life-threatening or chronic. Two years ago my thyroid went crazy and I had what is called, Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. This is a temporary thyroid condition that allowed me to experience EVERY POSSIBLE thyroid symptom. I went from being very hyper-thyroid to very hypo-thyroid. Insomnia, diarrhea, hair falling out, constipation, weight loss, weight gain, falling asleep in the middle of the day, skin rashes, holes through my fingernails, and a bunch of other symptoms that came and went over the course of the year that it took my body to re-regulate and correct itself. With that in mind, those "pregnancy" symptoms that most people pick up on, I was able to dismiss, especially since I didn't suffer any type of morning/day/night sickness, and the few days I didn't feel great were during cold and flu season and everyone seemed to not feel "awesome." My sister on the other hand, has suffered numerous breast and ovarian cysts, she's even had surgery to remove these from her body. When I described an "ache" in my side to her (an R.N.) she seemed to think that I too could now be suffering from an ovarian cyst.

We're now into January and a few weeks ahead of my expected January period. My sister said to keep an eye on it and call my doctor if the ache persisted. I wait a few weeks, take ANOTHER pregnancy test (also negative) and call the doctor. They agree that my symptoms do sound like a cyst and that some Ibuprofen and my period (when it comes) should take care of it. Well that period never came. I take another pregnancy test - you guessed it, NEGATIVE and yes, I used my pee not Brandon's or the dogs'. That's 4 negative pregnancy tests, so I call the doctor and say I really should get in for an appointment, because in addition to this pesky cyst, my throat is sore and I should get a strep test too. So on Thursday, February 5, I get into the doctor. I pee in a cup so they can see if there's a bladder infection or something else going on causing my abdominal pain. Naturally, the doctor decides to perform a pelvic exam to get a handle on this cyst. So picture it, I'm up on the table, feet in the stirrups, doctor "in there", nurse holding my legs and a knock at the door. I say "everybody come on in", I mean who would want to miss this party, I'm doing my big show after all? The voice at the door belongs to the laboratory technician and she says, "it's positive." Now there are eyes at me. I say, "what's positive, I haven't had my strep test yet." The faces attached to those eyes realize that I have no idea what they are talking about, how they all got it so quickly I don't know, but I'm pretty embarrassed by my ignorance. The nurse, so sweet, says "congratulations, you're pregnant!" I don't think I blinked through the rest of the appointment. The doctor continues the pelvic exam takes a guess at 10-12 weeks along and schedules me for an ultrasound so we can pinpoint my real due date and when this "blessed event" occurred. The doc also checked, and no strep either.

Those home tests, can be wrong - very wrong. The doctor told me that in addition to testing too early, you can test too late. Apparently so, since I was about 12 weeks for the last test I took.

Still in shock, I leave the clinic and call Brandon. "Where are you?" "In a meeting in Cottage Grove for another 20 minutes." "Okay, come home when you're done." I could wait for 20 minutes to tell him that his dream was coming true, right? The dream that he's had since we met that I did not share, but figured we could have a happy life without despite that. I'll be honest and tell you that we've often talked about divorcing so he could pursue a life and a marriage that could provide him with his life-long dream of fatherhood. Don't hate me here, I was trying to provide an out for him if a life with me didn't truly make him happy. I would be perfectly happy living to a ripe old age never pushing a person out of my body, and then raising said person to a level of competency that would allow them to grow up, and one day make me into a grandmother. After all those discussions, we decided to pursue our life together and look into other avenues to satisfy that parenting instinct.

So 50 minutes later (if you know Brandon, 20 minutes is just an initial negotiation point) he finally gets home. I meet him at the door with the camera and say, "I don't have strep, we're having a baby."

I think within 24 hours he'd told everyone we'd ever met.

The Saturday after we found out we we're expecting, (2 days later) I had to buy maternity pants, as the belly literally popped out. I had gone up two pant sizes in the previous 4 months and was relieved that I wasn't just getting fatter.

Whew! That's the story of how we found ourselves here, pregnant, not knowing for all that time (at our ultrasound that next week, they determined that we were 17 weeks - and indeed that "try" that we'd made back in October had took. This is the speediest pregnancy ever. We find out we're pregnant, get a cute "belly", and at our 20 week ultrasound next week, we find out if it's a boy or a girl.

Oh and in case you're interested, here's a copy of the email I sent that Monday to my co-workers announcing my pregnancy.

Bridget M - DOR
Sent: Monday, February 09, 2009 8:13 AM
To: DOR DL (LOT)ALL
Subject: Mmmmm doughnuts

Hi there,

Firstly, I want to express my sincerest apology to those of you who, over the past 3 months, may have experienced one of my many mood swings or have been trampled by me on my stampede to the ladies' room. Secondly, I'd like to express appreciation to those of you who may have noticed an increase in acne or a pronounced weight gain and didn't feel the need to point it out to me. (Trust me, I'm aware of it.) My guess is that over the next 6 months the weight will continue to increase and in addition to acne and trips to the restroom, I may experience a whole host of interesting symptoms.

So in honor of you and your patience and understanding there are doughnuts in the tel-sell lounge. Please help yourself.

Sincerely,
Bridget and Belly

Type O Hero!

2009-02-18T08:57:00.002-06:00

So yesterday we had our first appointment with our doctor - actually not the first time we've met him. He's been our "regular" doctor for about 8 years now. Now he's just putting on his OB hat; and I'm putting on weight and maternity pants. They took blood, pee and measurements. I'm told that this is standard operating procedure from here on out. I guess so far, so good. Our doctor, thankfully, is taking the "it's not a problem, unless you make it a problem" approach to our pregnancy; and since we didn't know we were pregnant until we were 4 months in, this will suit our personalities just fine. We are now scheduled for our second ultrasound (the first actually determined our due date, which is; drum roll . . . . July 24) and at this second one we should be able to learn the gender of what we've been referring to as "Belly." I will tell you that we're hoping for a girl, and I'll also tell you, "that a boy would be fine", because I am supposed to say that. Truthfully, so long as all of its parts are where they belong and "Belly" isn't predisposed to riding the short bus, we'll take what we get. It's just that all of our friends have just had boys and our sister-in-law is expecting a boy in 6 weeks; and it would be fun to shop in the "pink" section.

Oh so the "Type O Hero" thing - I have the rare blood type of O-. I know, you can hold your applause until I say something truly spectacular like this, "I am donating my cord blood" so if someone should need healthy cord blood from a healthy type O- gal it will be saved. Okay, that's all about that, but I am excited because it seems pretty space-age to me. The website of the company that will be preserving my cord blood is kinda cute about it, I'll paint a mind picture for you. Now that you're registered and you have your information kit, Step 1 - simply call us when you go into labor. We will prepare storage for your donation. (happy couple in car on way to hospital.) Step 2 - call us when you have delivered the baby and we will dispatch our courier service to pick up your donation (cute mother holding infant, while on telephone in hospital room.) Step 3 - our courier service brings your donation to our state-of-the art cryogenic facility (smiling man in van and then a picture of a stainless steel refrigeration unit with frost rolling out.)
That's it - you may have saved another life! Ta da!

A bun in the "proverbial" oven.

2009-02-11T09:19:00.002-06:00

After careful planning and consideration, we're pregnant! Okay, so you "get" the messy details, and you know the kind of considerate words my husband was whispering or panting . . . ipso-facto, boom a baby B is on the way.

So anywho . . . we'll be celebrating our 9th wedding anniversary before baby arrives, we've had discussion after discussion, and feel pretty confident that we're as freaked out as the next guy. If teenagers can do it and the woman from California can have 14 - ahem, we'll NOT go down the road of how we feel about that, we suspect that with all the thinking, talking and "research" we've done, we'll be able to parent in our own unique and successful way and can mess up a kid with the same level of skill as those who haven't pre-thought . After all, you've never seen a pair of well-adjusted, kind, intelligent dogs like ours.

We are the kind of people that will put a fair amount of prayer in, leaning on our parents (after all, look how nice we turned out), and plain old shooting from the hip. If we can make a marriage work, we can do this. Right?

I guess this explains my fascination with Sonic Drive-In.
From here on out I'll try to get you the latest on the baby. First ultrasound is Friday the 13th! We'll know our due date then.

First Sonic Opens in Wisconsin!

2009-01-30T10:46:00.003-06:00

Alright - I'm going to just put this out there. I am not a "fat" person, but I am a girl who eats and I was uber excited about the new Sonic opening in town. By the by, I'd love to see some comments on this post - have you eaten at Sonic, seen the commercials, recommendations . . .

Okay, so for probably 6 years now we've had T.V. commercials for something called Sonic. Never being at an actual Sonic, I couldn't for the life of me figure out why those people never left the parking lot (it makes sense now knowing it's a drive-in.) Also, the mere mental image of something called "cherry limeade" was enough to send me in to a frenzy. I mean what could be more delicious? You've got cherries - my favorite Kool Ade flavor, and limeade - hello! Key Lime Pie is my favorite thing on the planet, I even packed bottled key lime juice in my suitcase the last time we visited the Florida keys, just so I could continue to devour them at home. (I was ignorant to the fact that Nellie and Joe's Key Lime Juice was available at EVERY supermarket in the country. You know that now, don't make the same mistake I did.)

Okay so where was I??? Oh yes, Sonic . . . You all remember Hurricane Katrina? Well, my dad who is a hero of mine, went to New Orleans and lived in a camper for nearly 3 years after the tragedy, doing clean up to one of our nation's most interesting and historical cities. During that time, the rest of my family made several trips to the Crescent City to see him and to be together. One such time was for my 30th birthday, ahem, that's the last birthday I'm counting, FYI. Lucky for us we flew out of the now open New Orleans airport. The first few trips down were driven as they had not opened their airport yet. AND LO AND BEHOLD, what restaurant is in the New Orleans Airport???? SONIC!! My husband and I could hardly contain our joy - this place, this wonderful place that had tempted us and inhabited our dreams for 1/2 a decade was now within reach!! We could barely contain ourselves - what to choose??? Of course we want as broad an education in the fare available at this place as we could get at 9 in the morning! Is it breakfast? Is it lunch? Should we just get things from both menus?? Okay, we did and we washed it all down with cherry limeades - ahhhhh! I think breakfast burritos, fries and limeade is like traveling to 3 international countries for lunch. We were both pleased with our meals and were anxious for future opportunities to dine Sonic style again.

Drum roll please - rrrrrrrrrr Wisconsin's first Sonic opens in Madison, January 26, 2008!!! All week I've been out of my mind trying to get the perfect plan in place for visiting the holy land. It worked out for my schedule and my husband's and a friend of ours that Thursday would work for dinner at Sonic, by studying the traffic pattern, menus and folklore surrounding the opening of a new Sonic we felt we were best prepared to operate a successful dinner after just 3 short days of operation. The plan: leave for Sonic directly from work (4 p.m.), pick up our young friend and drive the 13 miles to Sonic, thus putting us into the "Sonic Staging Area" at 4:45. Perfect! We were the second car in the pattern. In addition to the 3 humans, we were going to allow our faithful pooch, Buster, to enjoy a bit of Sonic magic as well. Nothing warms the heart of the folks with walkie talkies working out in the cold like a fluffy little dog with a waggy tail.

FINALLY! It's our turn to leave the staging area and head down the block to the restaurant. (Really we didn't have to wait very long, because of our excellent planning.) We pull into the parking lot and wait for an open drive-in stall. Managing the traffic in the parking lot we're greeted by another man with a walkie talkie, who introduces himself as Paul Frautschi, owner of the new Sonic. We chat business for a bit and he suggests we wait for the 2nd open drive-in stall as a superior employee will be working that one and we'd receive better service!! How about that??!! Royalty? We felt like it last night at Sonic.

Because I'd been studying the menu for the past few days, I was fairly comfortable in placing my order, but my companions took a couple of moments to make their choices. Brandon selected the extra long coney dog combo with onion rings and sweet tea, and our friend chose the chicken strip basket with fries, onion rings, and a cherry limeade. Our food arrived quickly and was intoxicating us with the smell - YUMMMMmmmm! Only missing was our friend's onion rings which were quickly brought to us by "Smiley" our server (she lives up to the name Mr. Frautschi gave her.)

Commence Devouring.

We all shared portions of our selections with the others in our group and of course, Buster got to try a variety of things. He's particularly fond of the plain fries. Salty, hot, but not too hot.

When we'd finished our meals we decided that the dessert menu had better be made to pass inspection as well. Our friend and I had the $1 sundaes, mine with Oreos and hers with M&Ms, Brandon got the banana shake. Smiley brought them to us quickly, but forgot to charge us for them. Of course we gave her money to cover them and a bit for a tip.

The whole ride home was filled with laughter and reminiscences of our first trip to Sonic. Oh we'll be back, we're anxious for the breakfast menu and to sample the rest of the goodness served to you right at your car by the quickest and friendliest staff in town.

-dreamy harp music-

a quickie about work

2009-01-08T14:51:00.002-06:00

Okay, so it's Thursday afternoon, I've just refilled my water cup, located some hard candy, and now my blood pressure is coming back down. I know you don't know where I work or what I do, but here's something that's just about to put me over the edge.

I work in phone sales. I and the other 9 people in my unit all make about 100 outbound calls daily. In addition to that, there's an inbound hotline that adds anywhere from 50 to 100 more calls to the day's workload. That's a pretty busy day - like, I'm sure, your work day is. On Fridays we have new products that are available. Some stores have signed up to receive new products automatically, "autodistribution" if you will. In addition to those store receiving new products the day they're available; the stores we call on Friday also have first dibs at new product. Today is Thursday. There are no new games today; however the people who pay attention and know that there are new games or would like more packs than their autodistribution is set for, when Friday morning rolls around, we can just send them the additional packs for delivery on Monday. This is a pretty basic service, our customers appreciate it and we ship additional product. Win - Win, right?

Okay, so you see my point here that telling those people when speaking to them today, Thursday, to go ahead and CALL BACK tomorrow, Friday, just to get those games, seems asinine. Talk about a shitty way of doing business and a "make tomorrow even busier than it needs to be" move.

I'm a big picture person and I understand sales. Let's say that person decides not to call back or gets too busy or whatever - now they've been without that product even longer, the customers didn't find it at their favorite location and it turns into a negative situation with hurt feelings and resentment? Let's just send them the packs.

reproduction

2008-12-19T11:23:00.008-06:00

Babies; you like 'em, you want 'em: you have 'em. Me, I'm not convinced on liking, wanting, or having; and your 15 minute spiel won't convince me one way or the other. Don't waste your time, or mine for that matter. I think families are fine. I in fact, came from a family. I've seen how they work, I get the jest of them, I've seen them in action; both good and bad. I'm an optimist, always have been, but I also remember the joys of adolescence and what a huge pain in the ass I was to my folks during that time and them warning, "You just wait." I am also aware of a sluggish economy, tuition hikes, crime, and birth defects. I can't tell you that I don't take these things into consideration when pondering a self-inflicted population increase. Speaking of self-inflicted, I've only heard of terrible pains, such as passing a kidney stone, as being as painful as childbirth. That's like, "I knew cutting off my leg would hurt, but I did it anyway." Call me crazy, but I'm not a fan of pain, I receive enough pain by accident and am therefore not thrilled with the concept of choosing pain.

I am married, have been for 8 1/2 years. Surprise, surprise, I know, a gal as opinionated as me better have something going to keep an awesome husband like I have. We have a lot of fun together. We laugh all the time, go fun places, watch movies, and truly feel that being with the other makes our life better.

We do; however, experience a difference of opinion on the ol' baby-making front. He too is from a family, he was not hatched or kicked from the den like a baby fox, and happens to think that making small versions of ourselves is a dandy idea. When I present him with my list of concerns he thinks I'm being irrational and attempting to go against the grain. One of my chief complaints with people creation is the permanence. You are that kid's parent forever - you know f o r e v e r? Humans tend to live longer than dogs and he seems to think we've had ours for too long. I'd hate to see us end up with a 30-year-old deadbeat who still lives at home. Despite what goes on in Nebraska, you can't take your unwanted 30-something to the local humane society. Which, by the way, is well overcrowded and underfinanced, stop by and pick up a volunteer application, make a donation, or better yet, adopt a new family member - somebody else's attempt at breeding.

To those of you with offspring, be not offended. I'm sure you made the decision to procreate with careful consideration and an attempt to fill a life-long yearning. I have met children I like. My niece, for example, is a delight. She's smart, funny and respectful, not to mention adorable. I have also met children I dislike, possibly yours. A spanking is not a beating and may do you/us a world of good. Aside from behavior issues, what about those kids that are dirty, rude and plain ol' dumb? I sure don't want one of those and contrary to what my breeding friends say, sometimes that happens no matter how dedicated of a parent you were.

Mr. B and I may at some point have a small B. If we do, we'll decide on our own. We don't need your urging, encouragement, recipe, or reminder of what great parents we'd be or how old we're getting. What we could use is time and a heap of cash. You know that it costs at least $124,800, according to MSN Money, to raise a child to 18 years of age. That's before college tuition if you plan to assist with that cost. That's like the leg self-amputation example and then saying you're surprised at how much you had to pay for that pain!

Great okay, we got that settled. I'll let you know if we get a bun in the proverbial oven. Until then you don't need to ask; sometimes I just gain weight, sometimes I just have stomach flu, sometimes I just eat crazy food, if it's due to an occupant of my uterus I'll let you know.

So happy "practicing" to you and May your eggs be viable and your sperm be plentiful.

The fam: Bridget, Brandon, Buster and Bitsie.

a short rant on manners

2008-12-12T10:45:00.009-06:00

Let me open with an apology and confession of my own guilt on this topic. I am sure we all have experienced those times when our "upbringing" takes a back seat the the total enjoyment of a stick of gum or fell victim to that burp that appeared out of nowhere. That being said; let's examine the real reason for this rant. "Adult onset lack of manners", is a horrible reality that strikes in a variety of situations. My most recent experiences with AOLOM happened at work, my job is in a "professional" office setting if you will; not a construction site or some other possible work setting, but an office. My job and that of the people seated near my cube, is phone sales. I repeat "PHONE". What do you think of the person seated most near to me loading her mouth with apple, chewing with her mouth open and then dialing?!! Oh yes, she did. I asked if she could chew any louder. She told me that I must have good ears and that she was just eating the apple. I said, "We know, everyone can hear it!"

A second example that happens at work and just reoccurred last week is non-double-flushing. We live in a "low-flow" toilet age; accept it. This low-flow lifestyle may, from time-to-time need a second flush, you're not being greedy, you're just practicing good sense; go ahead and take it. Often times there's a bit of "fighter poo" that manages to escape the first flush in a dramatic fight to avoid the septic, and is seen bobbing in the toilet for the stall's next visitor. NEWSFLASH - No One likes to see your poo. Give a second look and do a second flush and send it on its way. Less frequently seen and possibly more gross is "fighter fem prod." These offenders are not even supposed to be flushed, they belong in the trash receptacle conveniently located right in the stall. Should you feel the need to dispose of these products in a flushing manner, PLEASE give a second and look and be 100% certain that they have made it through to the happy hunting grounds of septic Heaven.

Whew - I feel better now. Thank you for letting me get this off my chest.

Thanksgiving

2008-11-28T14:58:00.006-06:00

I love the holidays, I love my family, I love making new traditions. Whew, that said, let me tell you about Thanksgiving 2008.

I have a small immediate family and a ginormous extended family - 25 first cousins if that helps paint a picture for you. What I started planning back in September was an intimate, dignified, traditional holiday meal for the 8 people who make up my immediate family. This number of 8 works perfectly because I have a dining table for 8, and beautiful gold-trimmed china for 8. I had sent out the invites and made follow-up phone calls to these 8 dear people in my life to see if the Thanksgiving I was planning would work for them or if they had other arrangements in mind. All were agreed that what I was planning sounded lovely, as my sister and her family live in Michigan and my dad has been living in Kansas, and it's a rare occasion we're all together.

When my darling spouse's family learned (from him) that we were doing a Thanksgiving they wanted to be included. It is not as if I do not want to spend time with my in-laws, I love and enjoy them very much and see them ALL quite often as we all live in the same city; I was just hoping for a little time with my family who I rarely see. My mother felt the same way and asked if we could keep it private this once so she could spend an afternoon with her husband and youngest child. We proceed with Thanksgiving plan 1.0, making shopping lists, house arrangements and I even sewed a new holiday table runner for said table of 8.

Sadness falls - my husband's beloved Uncle John dies the Thursday before Thanksgiving. The memorial service is to be held on Thanksgiving day in Montana. With part of the Buell family headed West, the remainder of the Buell Thanksgiving Clan ask if we can now combine our 2 smallish groups into 1 medium-sized group for Thanksgiving and save on some of the work. I can't say, "no" to a family in mourning and with Christmas around the corner, I don't want my name to be Mudd. Plans proceed for Thanksgiving plan 2.0.

Word about free turkey with all the trimmings travels fast. Before long more and more relatives were wondering what they should bring to Thanksgiving and what time dinner was. My dad, who now can't even make it home himself, mentioned to his siblings that "Bridge was cookin' Thanksgiving." I can't be angry with Dad, he couldn't have known all the details of Thanksgiving plan 1.0 and 2.0. Add one uncle and uncle girlfriend. The son of uncle and his family want to know if "Dad is going to your Thanksgiving, can we go too?" What can we do at this point, say "no"? Add one cousin, one cousin wife and 2 cousin kids. The count is now up from 8 to 25. I do not have seating for a group of this size. Particularly not the beautiful dining room experience with crystal candlesticks and stories from days past I had been picturing in my mind since SEPTEMBER!! Ahem where was I?

Oh yes, moving forward to Tuesday of Thanksgiving week at 9 p.m. An attempt on creating Thanksgiving plan 2.1. An aunt of Brandon's wondered if she could bring her family, which could be 2, just she and uncle or 15 them, aunt uncle, 4 kids and 7 kids' kids. I looked at Brandon with
"the look" a wife can give and said, "tell them 'no' it's too late in the game to add 15 more." I'm sorry, I know I am in deep do do for this, but we were out of space and I was dancing on my last nerve.

Thursday morning arrives! Birds are in the oven, sister and sister's husband move furniture around to make room for guests, veggies get chopped, niece gets a bath, cans and jars get opened, tables get clothed; things are moving along! Doorbell rings! The first of the guests arrive! It's Mom with Grandma and Uncle. The doorbell didn't stop ringing for an hour. People came piling in and nearly all of them brought at least one pie and a side dish. Okay, so we have plenty of food; which everyone consumed mass quantities of and then hit the pie parade. The funniest quote of the day came from Brandon's grandpa Sam. Grandma and Grandpa are in their mid-nineties. They're plenty old by most accounts. My grandma is in her mid-eighties and a retired chef, needless to say everything she cooks is to die for. Grandpa Sam is now a fan of my grandma's cooking too. When my grandma arrived to our house, we put her to work making real gravy, you know the kind; smooth, savory and delicious. I made my rounds to the various "dining rooms" to see if I could help anyone with anything and Grandpa Sam flagged me down. He called me near to him and asked, "Who's the old lady who made the gravy?" I answered, "That old lady is my Grandma." Hysterical!! you played on the football team with Jesus, who are you calling old?? Anyhow, Grandma was flattered that her food was so well received and Grandpa was happy because we sent the leftover gravy home with him. If you're thinking that some matchmaking is being done, you're mistaken. Grandma Cook was seated right beside him while he stalked my grandma's gravy, just like she's been for the past 72 years.

You, you are, you are a smelly beaver.

2008-11-20T11:34:00.009-06:00

First off, this is not an X-rated post, not even R-rated. Jeez people, heads out of the gutter!!

Beavers are the school mascot of my mom's school. She in fact, teaches at the same high school she graduated from, so by most accounts, she's the biggest beaver of them all. I'll mention here that Mom does most of her shopping at the school store. No joke. My sister and I lovingly refer to her wardrobe as "Beaver wear." Beaver sweatpants, shirts, t-shirts, socks, the whole deal. She'll even slip us Beaver wear in our stockings at Christmas, and I'm not sure what's worse, Beaver wear or coal, because we grew up in the neighboring school district (Dad's Alma mater) and had a pretty intense rivalry for most of our school days. We were the proud, Dells Chiefs. We had no business in Beaver wear.

In addition to the cheer at the top of this post, we had another one that Dad said was just not nice and we shouldn't say it. I'll share it with you now, "Chiefs Eat Beaver Meat!" Which was probably historically accurate, so we plead not guilty on that one.

Reedsburg Times Press photo

Anywhoo - Mom's psyched 'cause the Beavers are going to state! This year's football Beavers had a great 10-3 season and will meet the Comets (13-0) from Waupaca at Camp Randall tomorrow for the Division 3 Title match up. Mom's sister, my aunt Shirley's grandson is on the team so a whole car load of Beaver Alumni will be following the school buses down to cheer on the team. I can hear it now, "Go Beavers, Damn the Comets!"

Oh and good news, Mom says if the Beavers are victorious, we'll all get new Beaver wear for Christmas! I bet even if they lose, so will we.

It's exciting for the hometown and for my mom, so GO BEAVERS!

Darkness

2008-11-13T15:45:00.004-06:00

It's that time of the year; when it's dark on the drive to and from work. I hate that. I've not officially been diagnosed with S.A.D. or anything, but it really angers me that the best part of the day be spent at work, and by best part, I mean the 93 minutes of sunshine in the early afternoon.
I've discussed this with Mr. B and proposed a move to sunnier climates like Florida, Arizona, really anywhere but the balmy-Midwest, would fill the bill.
There is the possibility that my dissatisfaction with my job adds to my distaste for missing the sunshine while engaged in "professional pursuits."
Speaking of, I am blessed to be employed and to do darn near whatever I please, don't get me wrong, but where are the "dream jobs"? Who really gets those? Where are the people excited to go to work, to pop out of bed? I want to be you, or to at least know your secret. Is it a line on excellent pharmaceuticals? Were your parents coal miners? Do you dislike your home, spouse, pets?

Is it possible that you, dear reader are an employer looking for a hard-working, creative type with a gift for gab and grammar? Feel free to contact me with positions you wish to fill.

Memorial to Cocoa

2008-11-12T09:20:00.006-06:00

Cocoa, Brandon and Bitsie Buell

October 15, 1999 a special day in dog history, our history, Cocoa’s history. A litter of Shih Tzu puppies made their way to the planet and one of those, a boy, was destined for our house; the long way.

He was initially purchased by a family as a companion for their little girl. Cocoa’s breeding and some environmental factors proved too much for them and an unhappy and mistreated Cocoa found his way to Fuzzy Paws Shih Tzu Rescue. When our search for a companion for our little girl, Bitsie led us to Petfinder.com, we found Cocoa and were approved (after a rigorous approval process) to adopt Cocoa and be his forever home. Have you been through this process?? I wholeheartedly understand the intentions, but at the time, for the life of me, I couldn’t understand how good I had to be to get a dog somebody else already didn’t want. Cocoa taught me, over time, why not just anyone could have been his family.

Can I say that we were elated? The day we got the call I was in the car on the way to Oshkosh (an hour’s drive from Madison) to meet him and pick him up. He had been lovingly fostered by Barbara Pressley of Diamond Dynasty Shih Tzu. The drive home was very fun, I chatted and chatted at Cocoa the whole way, he by the way, just sat in his bed on the front seat and let me do the talking. I thought this will work out just fine, as Bitsie had bonded with Brandon, I thought “finally a dog of my VERY own.”

On our drive home, I called Karis Finley and asked her to come by when I got home to meet Cocoa and help make him feel welcome. The four of us, Bitsie, Cocoa, Karis and I were getting along swimmingly; made a couple of potty trips and enjoyed some treats while we waited for Brandon to get home. We quickly learned what “skittish around men” meant. That final trip potty before bed was the last time we saw Cocoa for seven days and seven nights, he took one look at Brandon and zoom, he was gone!

Let me tell you about the force that came out for those 7 days to look for our Cocoa, a dog that none of them had ever seen and I myself had only “owned” for 2 hours before I lost him. The crying begins. Friends from work, people from the rescue, family from out of town, friends and neighbors all hit the streets, hung posters, called the police and tried to keep me, Cocoa’s bad mommy, from losing my mind. We strolled the streets of Cottage Grove, squeaking toys, shaking treats and calling his name. We had just about lost hope, when another “Cocoa spotting” came in. Someone had seen the poster and miraculously then saw Cocoa and called us. We picked him up at the Cenex gas station, crying our eyes out and thanking that mystery angel profusely. He had been found in an empty lot immediately next door to our house, but we had been responding to a “Cocoa spotting” that had come in hours earlier and were a couple of blocks away.

Whew! With that crisis behind us it was time to address the matter at hand. It was now the second week in October and Cocoa’s third birthday was just around the corner and he had been formally introduced to no one. I am goofy and I like a party, so a big homecoming/birthday party seemed just the way to introduce our baby boy to our dog-loving family and friends. Please see the picture of the party. My dad and I took the pictures, so that makes two. Count the remaining people and the dogs in the picture. That’s right at perfect 1:1 people to dog ratio! We had so much fun and the guest of honor even got to open his gifts in front of everyone to a bevy of “ooohs” and “aaahs”.

It turns out that when you throw elaborate parties for your dog and shower them with goodies, they feel as though you work for them and are higher up in the “pack” than you. This became evident one night when I inadvertently scared him and he charged me and bit me in the face. A time later I suffered a bite to the nose and a trip to the emergency room. Through these trials we learned a great deal about Cocoa, dog behavior and ourselves. The vet suggested he be put down. I refused this suggestion and asked what the other options were. Actually there was just one option, Cocoa was to serve his quarantine and we were to take him to see a behaviorist. When friends and family learned what a behaviorist did and cost, we got more votes for the first suggestion. This recommendation was not even a consideration to us as we had promised each other, God and Cocoa that we were in for the long haul. As in the same way we are our parent’s responsibility, Cocoa was ours and we were going to “love him through this” which we did to a fair bit of success.

Cocoa didn’t bite anyone else and we learned to read the signals he sent. Cocoa’s breeding had given him something similar to the “Cocker Rage” you hear about happening in spaniels. We learned to watch for the signals and to diffuse Cocoa when it looked like he’d be having an episode.

So for the next few years or so, we enjoyed our Cocoa and our Cocoa enjoyed us. We took him to dog parks, pet stores, parades and to Castle Rock Lake. Cocoa also really enjoyed his time with his “best friend” and former neighbor, Sadie Hermsmeier. Sadie is a beautiful Golden Retriever (who says dogs from different AKC groups can’t be friends?) Cocoa never understood how Sadie could move so quickly and Sadie appreciated that Cocoa would just sit and watch her run. Luckily for the Hermsmeiers and their dog boutique site, good-doggie.com, Cocoa was not camera shy and was willing to “model” for them. We jokingly said he was a “plus-sized model” as he tipped the scales at a whopping 25 pounds, a tad bit over the shih tzu breed standard of 16 pounds. We tried putting him on diets and increasing his exercise, but like so many Cocoa just couldn’t drop those extra pounds. We also commented that by his round build and negative profile (his nose was practically behind his eyes) he is what a real bull shih t would look like.

The days of our happy dual shih tzu home, were cut radically short. Much due in part to his breeding, Cocoa had some looming health concerns his whole life; that as much as we loved him, we couldn’t cure him of. In the early hours of July 9, 2008 Cocoa had a coughing fit and we rushed him in to the emergency vet at about 4 a.m. The vet on staff tried to perform some tests to see what was happening. As she would insert the needle into Cocoa’s veins they would explode and she couldn’t draw enough to complete the tests. While we were there, she also noticed that he was covered in bruises and broken blood vessels, additionally his throat was swelling shut, and his coughing continued. She delivered the news that we didn’t go there to hear. Our Cocoa was suffering from 1 of 3 conditions that without the blood work she couldn’t identify exactly or save him from, cancer, renal failure, or a disease that I am unable to remember the name of. How could this be? We had loved him through the aggression, the weight gain, the carpet accidents and the snoring. How could we be standing in an emergency vet’s office in the middle of the night with no option to love him through? Brandon and I both broke down into tears. I called my family and told them our situation, they knew and loved our boy as well and I wanted them to be current with what was going on. We made the decision to end Cocoa’s suffering and we buried him at my folks’ farm. He always enjoyed his time there and to us it seemed just a little bit closer to Heaven.

We never thought that when he arrived at our door that we’d truly love him as much as we did. We never imagined that losing him would hurt as much as it did and we didn’t expect the outpouring of love and sympathy from our friends and family that we got, but they did.

Offer up your home to an animal in need. God put us here to tend to the creatures; by showing them compassion we show Him compassion. Tell those you love, you do and if you knew Cocoa, smile when you think about him.

Good ol' Lake Delton

2008-11-10T08:30:00.006-06:00

There's a place in South Central Wisconsin - the Wisconsin Dells/Lake Delton area and that's where I'm from. Specifically more the Lake Delton part, but being small, we Deltonians attend the Wisconsin Dells school system, so to save time and explanation; we generally say, "I'm from the Dells."
You may recall that beautiful, man-made, Lake Delton (the actual lake, not the town of the same name) is now not so much a lake, but a mud hole. http://www.channel3000.com/news/16559796/detail.html
There's a new lake on the horizon and an opportunity to "adopt" the fish that will be used to restock it.
Visit: http://fish4lakedelton.wordpress.com/ for more information or to adopt fish.
When I heard about this project I thought it seemed like a fine way to complete Christmas shopping for my father and father-in-law and to do something good for mankind and future generations of "Deltonians."
Dad, if you have somehow found my website, try to look surprised if indeed you are honored with fish adoptions for Christmas.

This event, the loss of Lake Delton in June '08, the discussions on refilling and restocking it got me thinking. Thinking about the fun I had growing up there, visiting the Bartlett show, eating at one of the restaurants on the lake, boating with my husband while we were still dating, and learning to fish from my dad.

I have a particularly funny Dad and Bridge boating/fishing story to share. Like most, I am like my dad in at least a couple of ways. I look like him (Mom, I know I know, you say I look like you) I act like my dad, share his "temper", I try to see humor in everything, and I enjoy fishing and boating. We also share a love of Dairy Queen's Snicker-flavored frozen treats.

One evening during my teens, Dad had just gotten a new bass boat and we wanted to see how fast she'd go and then reward ourselves with frozen, Snicker-flavored heaven in a cup.
Dad and I are zooming around the lake about dusk, fewer F.I.B.s at that hour, creating more free space to see what "top-end" on the new Skeeter meant. We make a few trips around the lake, trailer the boat, and head off to DQ for our rewards. Now we are standing in an actual electronically lit environment that is not short on patrons, F.I.B. or otherwise, at that time and simultaneously notice the array of dead bugs across each other's forehead. We quickly brush the lifeless remains from ourselves (it's just not polite to eat ice cream with slaughter on your head) and take our turn at that counter laughing hysterically. I wish you were there, but maybe with the size of the crowd that night maybe you were and you've been laughing about the people that came in with foreheads full of bug guts.

New Nose

2008-11-07T07:54:00.008-06:00

I am one of those people prone to mishaps. I regularly trip on my feet, I fell on stage during an improv show dislocating my pelvis, and I've smashed my nose with a butterfly machine to name a few. (I tried to find a picture of a butterfly machine, but none were quite right - it's the machine in the gym that exercises your upper arm.) When one side of the machine doesn't move, the side that does, comes screaming into your face with incredible force and your face has nowhere to go. Turns out that the butterfly machine-nose meeting did not go that well and didn't assist in my ability to breathe. In fact, I crushed the left nostril/airway closed - a self-inflicted deviated septum if you will. My dear husband; who took excellent care of me following my rhinoplasty, also took some pictures of the before, middle and end of my journey toward a new, functioning nose. The middle one is gross, shield the eyes of young children before proceeding.

Moments before surgery 10/10/08

A few days after surgery - pretty huh?

11/6/08 - new nose, all healed and functioning beautifully!

Halloween birthday trick or treat?

2008-11-06T09:28:00.002-06:00

Maybe I'm sentimental about Halloween, but even at my ripe old age, I remember the "good houses" with the full-sized Snickers and the jackasses that thought tootsie rolls would pass as fine trick-or-treat fare.
My best to you for a wonderful Halloween no matter what you end up doing. I'll be getting older and dining at my FAVORITE, Bubba Gumps, sometimes life is like a box of chocolates, but you never end up getting a whole box of chocolates while trick-or-treating either.

Thursday - post 1

2008-11-06T08:18:00.000-06:00

Since this is my first post, I guess I'll lay some groundwork. I have a husband, a job, a house, a car and two dogs. My husband is also a B.B. and to save time we just call each other "B", I guess uttering an entire name takes up too much time. He also has a car, job, half of my house and one of the two dogs prefers him to me. I'm at said job right now - I'm tied to a computer so, as long as my work gets done, I think I will blog regularly with some success.

I was lucky to have the best parents in the world. I also have a wonderful sister, a new brother-in-law and the cutest niece ever. Believe me, there was a time during adolescence; however, I would have traded any and all of them for a can of Pepsi.

So that's a good start for groundwork - I'm sure additional information will be added as needed in the future.

Okay, so it's Thursday the 6th of November. We just elected Barack Obama the next President. I'll try to refrain from political talks, but I believe we're in for some interesting changes.

This also means that I have been 31 for 6 days now. Eesh - 31 is old. I remember when my parents were this age. Wasn't Kennedy in his 30s when he became president? Although it seems old, someone in their 30s has no business being president. I don't like to floss, foreign policy should be left alone.