As many of you know, I've battled ulcerative colitis for almost 4 years now. After a whole slew of antibiotics, several hospital visits, and nasty steroids, I'm trying something new. (I know, it took me a while- I'm a little slow on the uptake.)
I'm cutting out all preservatives and trying an all-natural diet.
However, I'm a college student, and (being very poor) am looking for some tips on how to do this economically.
Any words of wisdom?
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Flaming Conservative
I'm a "Republican". Yes. I just said that. Before I continue on this rant, I feel obliged to make several qualifying statements about myself and it.
DISCLAIMERS
Myself: I'm am more of a conservative than a Republican. I feel that term more aptly describes my political/social view.(I don't like a lot of things that "my party" does. But I like the other side even less, so...) I believe in the right of life for both the unborn and elderly. I don't think the government should over-see more aspects of our lives- I think it should back off. I think public education, while it can often be good, is flawed in many areas. I hate socialized healthcare with a passion. I'm against taxing the rich a greater percentage than the poor. I am a Puritan work-ethic, out-spoken, Supreme-Court-is-full-of-it, conservative American. Our country is going through a hard time. But I believe that this should be an incentive for the kind and the compassionate to engage with and serve the world, not a cry for more governmental involvement through massive incurring of debt. (There. Now you know where I stand. Feel free to disagree as much as you want. Or not. Whatev.)
My Rant: I respect those in governmental authority. I believe our president is a brave man to tackle the mess we're in. However, when he and congress stop listening to the people they represent- I get angry. So, while I applaud President Obama for his eager determination to help the U.S. of A., I cannot help but express frustration at the "We can do it better. Let the brains in Washington figure it out" mentality that many in power seem to have (that goes for both sides of the aisle).
MY PHOTO RANT:
DISCLAIMERS
Myself: I'm am more of a conservative than a Republican. I feel that term more aptly describes my political/social view.(I don't like a lot of things that "my party" does. But I like the other side even less, so...) I believe in the right of life for both the unborn and elderly. I don't think the government should over-see more aspects of our lives- I think it should back off. I think public education, while it can often be good, is flawed in many areas. I hate socialized healthcare with a passion. I'm against taxing the rich a greater percentage than the poor. I am a Puritan work-ethic, out-spoken, Supreme-Court-is-full-of-it, conservative American. Our country is going through a hard time. But I believe that this should be an incentive for the kind and the compassionate to engage with and serve the world, not a cry for more governmental involvement through massive incurring of debt. (There. Now you know where I stand. Feel free to disagree as much as you want. Or not. Whatev.)
My Rant: I respect those in governmental authority. I believe our president is a brave man to tackle the mess we're in. However, when he and congress stop listening to the people they represent- I get angry. So, while I applaud President Obama for his eager determination to help the U.S. of A., I cannot help but express frustration at the "We can do it better. Let the brains in Washington figure it out" mentality that many in power seem to have (that goes for both sides of the aisle).
MY PHOTO RANT:
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
For Fun!!! And because I always play when I'm tagged... (in response to my Lady Forest)
Just choose one picture, one poem, one song, one quote, one article of clothing, one location and one Disney Princess. Whether it is on your mind or your favorite...
PICTURE
POEM
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there 's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They 'd banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
(Emily Dickinson)
SONG
QUOTE
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”
(Theodore Roosevelt)
ARTICLE OF CLOTHING
LOCATION
PRINCESS
PICTURE
POEM
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there 's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They 'd banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
(Emily Dickinson)
SONG
QUOTE
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”
(Theodore Roosevelt)
ARTICLE OF CLOTHING
LOCATION
PRINCESS
Monday, March 23, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Challenges
I'm in a rut.
It's true.
I don't really like to say it. In fact, I even wrote the first part of this blog post, trying to sound profound, and wise. About being in a rut. Yes. I did.
But the simple fact is this- ruts stink. And I'm in one. And no amount of vocabulary or philosophizing is going to change the fact that I'm in a deep, well-trodden, crushingly-boring rut. While I was in New York, I realized a flaw in my self, one that, until that moment, I'd always ignored, or claimed not to have.
It happened on Sunday. We were sitting in Trevor's church, the music was resounding off the walls, and I suddenly began to cry. Panic, fear, and complete paranoia gripped me so tightly that I could hardly breathe. I am afraid.
I'm afraid of new things.
I'm afraid of the unknown.
I'm afraid to try, because,
I'm afraid to fail.
I live my life within the walls of a carefully concocted, well-thought-out plan. And although I add fun addendum onto that plan (learn to make sushi, go on a road trip, sky-dive), I never do them. I'm to terrifyingly scared.
And that Sunday night in New York, I was crying because I wanted to move to the city. But I was scared of that big of a change. I was terrified and in love with New York at the same time. And then I started thinking about everything else I haven't done, either because I was scared, or lazy, or terrified of something new.
Run a mini-marathon.
Learn how to rock climb.
Actually thrive, not just survive in grad school.
Try to make that French chocolate cake.
Build my personal library.
Driven to California.
I could go on.
But I'm not going to. I'm stopping here. I'm tired of being a second-rate. I'm tired of not trying. I'm tired of playing it safe. So... here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to give myself a challenge each month. (See side-bar for this month's) It may be small. And, to people watching, it may seem rather unrelated to my new goal of "living it up," but I need to do something. God has given me one life to live. I need to be a good steward of this life.
I'm cultivating the good fear... "The fear of the LORD leads to life: Then one rests content, untouched by trouble." (Prov. 19:23)
Here it goes.
It's true.
I don't really like to say it. In fact, I even wrote the first part of this blog post, trying to sound profound, and wise. About being in a rut. Yes. I did.
But the simple fact is this- ruts stink. And I'm in one. And no amount of vocabulary or philosophizing is going to change the fact that I'm in a deep, well-trodden, crushingly-boring rut. While I was in New York, I realized a flaw in my self, one that, until that moment, I'd always ignored, or claimed not to have.
It happened on Sunday. We were sitting in Trevor's church, the music was resounding off the walls, and I suddenly began to cry. Panic, fear, and complete paranoia gripped me so tightly that I could hardly breathe. I am afraid.
I'm afraid of new things.
I'm afraid of the unknown.
I'm afraid to try, because,
I'm afraid to fail.
I live my life within the walls of a carefully concocted, well-thought-out plan. And although I add fun addendum onto that plan (learn to make sushi, go on a road trip, sky-dive), I never do them. I'm to terrifyingly scared.
And that Sunday night in New York, I was crying because I wanted to move to the city. But I was scared of that big of a change. I was terrified and in love with New York at the same time. And then I started thinking about everything else I haven't done, either because I was scared, or lazy, or terrified of something new.
Run a mini-marathon.
Learn how to rock climb.
Actually thrive, not just survive in grad school.
Try to make that French chocolate cake.
Build my personal library.
Driven to California.
I could go on.
But I'm not going to. I'm stopping here. I'm tired of being a second-rate. I'm tired of not trying. I'm tired of playing it safe. So... here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to give myself a challenge each month. (See side-bar for this month's) It may be small. And, to people watching, it may seem rather unrelated to my new goal of "living it up," but I need to do something. God has given me one life to live. I need to be a good steward of this life.
I'm cultivating the good fear... "The fear of the LORD leads to life: Then one rests content, untouched by trouble." (Prov. 19:23)
Here it goes.
Monday, March 16, 2009
The adventures on Fifth Avenue and the Whole Foods market...
Yay for Fifth Avenue!
The ladies spent all of today shopping up and down Fifth Avenue. Erika found this AMAZING Kenneth Cole coat (royal blue) and we all convinced her to buy it. It was originally $300, and she got it for $65. AMAZING!
My feet are killing me. We walk for hours and hours each day.
Tonight all the couples went out for dinner. Erika and I aren't in couples, but we are a couple (of girls), so we decided to have our own hoopla. We walked (of course!) to the Whole Foods market which is in Union Square (about 20 blocks south of where we're staying) to buy ingredients to make a "healthy" (in every sense of the word) dinner.
The place was incredible! It sells only organic, all-natural, "whole" foods. The entire basement was full of mounds of the most gorgeous, colorful fruit I have ever seen, and their cheese selection... ooh-lala! If you love cheese- this is the place to go. Now, the fish bar(since there were no preservatives, of course) smelled a little... well, you know. They had their own sushi bar, and grill, inside the market where you could request made-to-order sushi, meats, etc. All fresh. All organic. Erika and I were in heaven.
The line was just as incredible as the store. There were about 30 registers- all open, but the line snaked all around store, multiple people deep. I've heard that New Yorkers aren't the most patient people. That's a lie. They will stand very docilely for their organic, all-natural produce, dairy and meat.
Erika and I thoroughly enjoyed our (organic) grapefruit, (organic) strawberry, (all-natural) banana smoothie with (organic) sharp cheddar cheese and (all-natural)granola.
We agreed. We could totally be New Yorkers.
The ladies spent all of today shopping up and down Fifth Avenue. Erika found this AMAZING Kenneth Cole coat (royal blue) and we all convinced her to buy it. It was originally $300, and she got it for $65. AMAZING!
My feet are killing me. We walk for hours and hours each day.
Tonight all the couples went out for dinner. Erika and I aren't in couples, but we are a couple (of girls), so we decided to have our own hoopla. We walked (of course!) to the Whole Foods market which is in Union Square (about 20 blocks south of where we're staying) to buy ingredients to make a "healthy" (in every sense of the word) dinner.
The place was incredible! It sells only organic, all-natural, "whole" foods. The entire basement was full of mounds of the most gorgeous, colorful fruit I have ever seen, and their cheese selection... ooh-lala! If you love cheese- this is the place to go. Now, the fish bar(since there were no preservatives, of course) smelled a little... well, you know. They had their own sushi bar, and grill, inside the market where you could request made-to-order sushi, meats, etc. All fresh. All organic. Erika and I were in heaven.
The line was just as incredible as the store. There were about 30 registers- all open, but the line snaked all around store, multiple people deep. I've heard that New Yorkers aren't the most patient people. That's a lie. They will stand very docilely for their organic, all-natural produce, dairy and meat.
Erika and I thoroughly enjoyed our (organic) grapefruit, (organic) strawberry, (all-natural) banana smoothie with (organic) sharp cheddar cheese and (all-natural)granola.
We agreed. We could totally be New Yorkers.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
The adventures at the MET (in high heels!)
After a leisurely morning (the boys made us a delicious pancake breakfast), we all sallied forth (me in insanely high, incredibly stupid heels).
We walked about 45 blocks to the MET.
Gorgeous museum. Probably one of my favorites of all time. After wearing heels for an insane distance, me feet were killing me. Kate was smarter- she wore flats, but they were still new, and gave her a blister. We crashed on every bench we could find. You can admire naked marble statues very nicely from a bench...
We walked about 45 blocks to the MET.
Gorgeous museum. Probably one of my favorites of all time. After wearing heels for an insane distance, me feet were killing me. Kate was smarter- she wore flats, but they were still new, and gave her a blister. We crashed on every bench we could find. You can admire naked marble statues very nicely from a bench...
Saturday, March 14, 2009
The adventures on the other side of the Jersey tracks...
A word of advice... You probably should follow your Google Map directions when you're in the "bad part" of Jersey. (Is there a good part of Jersey?)
Let it suffice to say: Alex was frustrated, the other girls were a little scared, and I thought it was flipping hilarious (hey, if I'm gonna go- being shot down in Jersey's pretty dramatic...)
This was the scenery:
Note the sign (and lack of windows) on the building. Don't be bad in Jersey. (I took this INSIDE the car. No worries.)
Next to the lovely correctional facility was Jerseys's waste water treatment plant. The sign outside read: "Sewage sludge receiving area." Jersey is good at creative wording.
But once we finally got to the train station- we were happy! The sibs were reunited. (There may have been some screaming and hugging in the parking lot.)
Woot! We're in NYC!
Let it suffice to say: Alex was frustrated, the other girls were a little scared, and I thought it was flipping hilarious (hey, if I'm gonna go- being shot down in Jersey's pretty dramatic...)
This was the scenery:
Note the sign (and lack of windows) on the building. Don't be bad in Jersey. (I took this INSIDE the car. No worries.)
Next to the lovely correctional facility was Jerseys's waste water treatment plant. The sign outside read: "Sewage sludge receiving area." Jersey is good at creative wording.
But once we finally got to the train station- we were happy! The sibs were reunited. (There may have been some screaming and hugging in the parking lot.)
Woot! We're in NYC!
The adventures of early morning last minutes
I can't find my socks.
My iPod won't charge.
My clothes are still in the dryer.
Why are we out of milk?
Need to do my nails before we leave...
Why on earth am I up so early?
My iPod won't charge.
My clothes are still in the dryer.
Why are we out of milk?
Need to do my nails before we leave...
Why on earth am I up so early?
Friday, March 13, 2009
The Adventures of a late-night packer
So, the adventures are about to begin.
Tomorrow, at 5 a.m., crack-of-dawn-early, me, Shilly, Bax, Erest, and TrevsKate are leaving to visit Trevrika in New York City. SPRING BREAK! (I know, five a.m. is crazy, right? Bax, the insane military man planned our itinerary. Clearly he has issues.)
I will do my best to keep you all up to date with the variety of adventures we encounter along the way.
Tonight, the adventures begin with.... packing.
For those of you who have never attempted to pack a modestly sized bag, you know the challenges: cramming all the high-heels in, making sure the shampoo doesn't burp all over everything, deciding between the variety of straighteners and curling irons at your disposal.
And then, we're going to NEW YORK! I can't just pack my standard break clothes (elastic waisted pants with a variety of sweatshirts). I want to look cute. So there's the whole outfit planning thing. I have trouble picking out an outfit for one day, let alone five. Plus, I don't like things that wrinkle. And, something that I think is cute today, may not be cute the day I have to wear it. (It's a weird mood thing I have.)
Any way, it's 9:53, my first load of laundry isn't even in the dryer yet, I have several sweaters tossed in my bag (just to see what they look like there, not because I've actually decided to take them), and my sweatshirts are currently having a face-off because they all want to go, but I only have room for one.
I think it's going to be a late night...
Tomorrow, at 5 a.m., crack-of-dawn-early, me, Shilly, Bax, Erest, and TrevsKate are leaving to visit Trevrika in New York City. SPRING BREAK! (I know, five a.m. is crazy, right? Bax, the insane military man planned our itinerary. Clearly he has issues.)
I will do my best to keep you all up to date with the variety of adventures we encounter along the way.
Tonight, the adventures begin with.... packing.
For those of you who have never attempted to pack a modestly sized bag, you know the challenges: cramming all the high-heels in, making sure the shampoo doesn't burp all over everything, deciding between the variety of straighteners and curling irons at your disposal.
And then, we're going to NEW YORK! I can't just pack my standard break clothes (elastic waisted pants with a variety of sweatshirts). I want to look cute. So there's the whole outfit planning thing. I have trouble picking out an outfit for one day, let alone five. Plus, I don't like things that wrinkle. And, something that I think is cute today, may not be cute the day I have to wear it. (It's a weird mood thing I have.)
Any way, it's 9:53, my first load of laundry isn't even in the dryer yet, I have several sweaters tossed in my bag (just to see what they look like there, not because I've actually decided to take them), and my sweatshirts are currently having a face-off because they all want to go, but I only have room for one.
I think it's going to be a late night...
Monday, March 9, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
My mom sent me a picture text this morning. As soon as I saw it I dove out of bed, scrambled into my most comfy sweatshirt and dashed down the stairs.
I was at my parents' house in fifteen minutes, plate in hand, smile on my face, and "Fresh waffle, please!" on my lips. (Dad makes the best homemade waffles. Mmmm...)
Half-way through my light, fluffy, golden brown waffle (complete with homemade blueberry syrup). My mom says,
"I'm so glad you showed up!" (OF COURSE I showed up. Dad was making waffles. I saw it in the text.) "Didn't you think my text this morning was HILARIOUS!?!" I looked at her puzzled. She points to Julie's hair. Poor Bops used too much hairspray last night and her hair looked like a Hurricane Katrina pathway. I pulled out my phone,
"Ooooh! THAT'S what this picture was of!"
"What did you think it was?"
I turned the phone towards her and pointed. There, in the upper left corner of my screen, the only area not obscured by Julie's hair, she saw...
My father making waffles.
I was at my parents' house in fifteen minutes, plate in hand, smile on my face, and "Fresh waffle, please!" on my lips. (Dad makes the best homemade waffles. Mmmm...)
Half-way through my light, fluffy, golden brown waffle (complete with homemade blueberry syrup). My mom says,
"I'm so glad you showed up!" (OF COURSE I showed up. Dad was making waffles. I saw it in the text.) "Didn't you think my text this morning was HILARIOUS!?!" I looked at her puzzled. She points to Julie's hair. Poor Bops used too much hairspray last night and her hair looked like a Hurricane Katrina pathway. I pulled out my phone,
"Ooooh! THAT'S what this picture was of!"
"What did you think it was?"
I turned the phone towards her and pointed. There, in the upper left corner of my screen, the only area not obscured by Julie's hair, she saw...
My father making waffles.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
I am a speech-language pathologist (almost...)
I found this while searching Google images under the title of "speech therapy." (Don't ask me why- it was a combination of stress- too much to do- and laziness- not wanting to do anything.)
I would like to correct a few common mis-conceptions:
We do not wear scrubs. We wear cute clothes. I like to wear scarves a lot. And I wore heels for 12 hours yesterday. One cannot wear heels and scrubs.
I have never made a child do tongue exercises with a tongue depressor. It is a grossly unfounded and controversial therapy technique that has no long-term benefits. We play games. And the kid has little or no idea that they're actually doing speech therapy.
I'm sure I never make ridiculous faces when modeling to my client. (Hahahaha! Riiiight...)
We don't have fun red tables. They're brown. The red ones may be too much sensory info for some of our poor little clients.
I sit in the little chairs too...
Actually, think of speech therapy more like this:
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Gender Profiling
I drive stick shift.
It's true.
Nowadays I'm very adroit at shifting, steering, and eating an assortment of burritos while talking on the phone. However, when I first got my adorable little "midget hearse" of a car, I was not so smooth, nor so confident.
One night, late, on my way to my parents, I got a phone call. Reluctant to drive and talk at the same time, I pulled off the road into a small parking lot. It was pitch black, probably after 11, and I was wrapping up the conversation when I saw lights pulling in the parking lot and parking in front of me.
Police lights.
I hung up quickly.
A big, scary, authoritative voice bellowed, "Please step out of your vehicle!" (I have a terrible paranoia of police officers and I started shaking.) I was taught to obey. I opened my door and stepped out.
The police officer's entire demeanor changed. "Oh, hello. Sorry, miss. Just checking."
What a nice man! Stopping to make sure I was okay. "Oh, I'm good, thanks."
"No, no, that... Err... Actually, this is a preschool parking lot and the houses across the street noticed a potential pedophile in the parking lot. But clearly..." he hesitates. "Um, well, never mind..."
Clearly, if you're a blond female with a perky ponytail and GAP jeans, you're not likely to be profiled as a sexual predator.
Good to know.
It's true.
Nowadays I'm very adroit at shifting, steering, and eating an assortment of burritos while talking on the phone. However, when I first got my adorable little "midget hearse" of a car, I was not so smooth, nor so confident.
One night, late, on my way to my parents, I got a phone call. Reluctant to drive and talk at the same time, I pulled off the road into a small parking lot. It was pitch black, probably after 11, and I was wrapping up the conversation when I saw lights pulling in the parking lot and parking in front of me.
Police lights.
I hung up quickly.
A big, scary, authoritative voice bellowed, "Please step out of your vehicle!" (I have a terrible paranoia of police officers and I started shaking.) I was taught to obey. I opened my door and stepped out.
The police officer's entire demeanor changed. "Oh, hello. Sorry, miss. Just checking."
What a nice man! Stopping to make sure I was okay. "Oh, I'm good, thanks."
"No, no, that... Err... Actually, this is a preschool parking lot and the houses across the street noticed a potential pedophile in the parking lot. But clearly..." he hesitates. "Um, well, never mind..."
Clearly, if you're a blond female with a perky ponytail and GAP jeans, you're not likely to be profiled as a sexual predator.
Good to know.
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