Frustrating

Long story short - Rod found out about some shady things going on by some of the other salesmen at his work. One salesman managed to cheat the company out of around $60K. He was terminated Monday. Other associates are under investigation right now for other things they were doing that actually wound up paying them more than they should have been paid commission on.

This has led to harassment and retaliation from the shady co-workers, and thanks from all the people who are doing their job the honest way. Rod came home from work early this evening and is in our bedroom right now. I was on my way out the door to take the dogs for a walk when he pulled up. He showed me a picture of what some people did to his drawer at work when he got there. Rod claims that he's not feeling well, but I totally and 100% believe that this is related to what he came into at work. Sad thing is, neither one of us has faith that the store manager is going to do the right thing about the harassment or any of this situation at all because the store manager and the guy who got fired are good friends.

He's documenting everything so that he's protected should anything come of this.

Zen

Yesterday I reorganized my (new) bookshelves in alphabetical order by author. Rachel called me a nerd. I say she's right.

Vent

I know I am sure to offend someone by what I am about to say, but at this point I really don't care.

I HATE UTAH. I HATE LIVING HERE.

I am sosososososo tired of the inability of people to separate church from life. A few weeks ago I was trying to explain to my mom the frustrations I have with living in a predominantly LDS area. And yes, I'm LDS. Am I a good example of a good Mormon? Hell no. I cuss, I drink Starbucks, I watch rated R movies, I don't care either way about gay marriage, to say the least.

Anyway, back to where I was going with this. I was telling my mom that most of Rachel's friends are LDS. I have a HUGE problem with this, and I know it's because I was 1 of maybe 30 Mormons at my at least 2,000 student high school. I was able to get a good mixture of what everyone was. I grew up around lots of Catholics, Born Agains, Jehovah's Witnesses, Lutherans, Agnostics, Athiests... you name it. Around here, there's NO VARIETY. I HATE THAT. I hate that Rachel will never learn about what other people believe. I hate that Rachel will never really get to experience what it's like to be with school friends and then go to Mutual and be with just church friends. I hate that everything around here is based around the Mormon belief. Just about everything closes down on Sunday. Ooh, guess what we did last night?? WE WENT OUT TO DINNER. On a SUNDAY! My back was out, I didn't feel like cooking, and we went out. Yep, I'm going to hell for that one. And I'm going to hell for saying hell. (I'm exaggerating, to an extent.) There was a broadcast for women this past Saturday. I was offered a ticket to go with a friend to SLC and watch it live. I didn't want to go. I could have watched it on TV, but I didn't want to do that, either. I have no intention of reading the talks when they come out in print. I hate how there's no sense of free agency around here. I'm not interested in any of that - does that make me an apostate? NO!!!!!!!! I am exercising my free agency to live the way I live and do the things I do, and you know what that gets me around here? I get ignored, unless it's something churchy, which I always get invited to because that's peoples' jobs around here - to get me interested in all things church. Now don't get me wrong. I have a testimony of things pertaining to the gospel of Jesus Christ. But you know what? I am not the type of person to be religious 100% of the day. AND!!! I hang out with Presbyterians A LOT! And I love them!! A LOT!!!! I made a smartass comment about the forget-me-nots that one of the General Authorities was talking about. I know exactly what they mean, and it just happens to be that almost every female LDS friend I have on facebook is going apeshit about those damn flowers. Posting quotes, posting pictures, posting pictures with quotes, posting quotes with pictures...

Call me an untraditional Mormon, I don't care. I'm exercising free agency to live the way I so choose, to not be consumed by my religion, and to actually enjoy things. President Hinckley said, "Life is to be enjoyed, not only endured." Well you know what? I'm enjoying my life!

My room

I've been spending a lot of time in my craft room lately. I'm even posting this blog from my craft room. I know exactly why this room has gone ignored for so long, and I think that's why I have migrated here on my days off and in my spare time. It's been 6 months since I made the decision to stop going to UVU. UVU sucked the life out of me for three years. When I was there, I did nothing but school and work. Work and school. Nothing else. The only time I set foot in this room was to make my Christmas cards. Seriously, weeks would pass where not one person came in here. I've been going to Stevens-Henager for almost 5 months now, and my stress levels have dropped to an all-time low. I am so incredibly happy with my decision and have no regrets whatsoever.

Since I've spent more time in here, I've rediscovered my passion for dextrous things, and noticed even more so how I go in cycles. I've made about 50 cards of varying kinds, some for me, some for friends. I went through my stitching a few months ago and completed about 4 pieces. Now I've pulled out the boxes of photos that have been collecting dust for those 3+ years it's been since I started UVU. I'm going to work my best on getting these photos on pages, in the best order that I can remember, and work on taking more everyday pictures of Rachel doing Rachel stuff.

I think I owe Rod and Rachel a huge apology for my behavior since January 2008, because it was then that I started going to UVU and lost who I really was and who I really am.

Greatest thing since a paper slicer.

I was in Robert's about two months ago and was looking for a few specific things when I found their new little Martha Stewart section. I came across this not so little item.



This is a paper scorer! Hard to see from the smaller picture, but this is one of the greatest inventions EVER. You have no idea how long I've wanted one of these. I didn't think twice about buying it, especially considering that I could use the 40% off one item coupon. I make a grundle of cards at Christmas time and have always had to score my cards using a pencil, a ruler, and a bone folder. PAIN IN THE BUTT. I've been on another card-making spree, and now that I have this lovely item I am churning the cards out considerably faster. Just thought you'd like to know.

Angry Foot III

I'm not saying anything on facebook because I am friends with people who don't understand healing. Or in my case, un-healing. I was sitting at the piano in Presbyterian this morning and looked down at my foot. HUGE ball of sticky clear gel looking stuff oozing from the 3mm section of my incision that still hasn't closed up from my surgery 2.5-3 months ago. I wiped it up, played the next hymn, looked at my foot afterward and saw another lump of the same crap. Wiped it up. Tried to find the source of the ooze and found it. Drained as much as I could. Got home and drained a little more. This is what cyst #3 was oozing when I went in for surgery #2. I just barely saw the podi on Thursday. Was my foot acting up like this? Noooo. He gave me some lidocaine patches to put on my foot to get rid of the pain in hopes that it will trigger my body to start healing. Those actually made the pain intensify - excruciating is the least of the descriptor words I can use. I'm holding on to all the pictures I've taken of this latest debacle with my foot so that when I see him in another 3 weeks he can see what's happened during the interim. Meanwhile, my Lyrica intake has gone from every 3-4 days or so to every day.

What have I tried to help heal my foot? Antibac cream scrip the day of the surgery. Raw essential coconut oil. Smart Silver drops. Two different scrip antibiotics. Then I used nothing. Scrip steroid cream. Neosporin. Some other cream he gave me. All are doing NOTHING.

Shirley

We just discovered that one of Rod's cousins is friends with someone that Rod and I worked before we got married. We've always wondered about some of the people at that warehouse and have been curious to know where they are now. There's one girl in particular that we've always had in the back of our minds because we both feel that she was a sort of catalyst in making things happen between the two of us. Rod was the supervisor at the time, and I was on what we called the "carousel." This girl, Shirley, worked on a line right next to me. Rod came over to see what we were doing one night, and Shirley came over and told Rod to put his arm around me, which he did. She said, "You guys look so cute together!" and I shoved Rod away, pretending like I was totally disgusted. The thing is, at the time I had a weird feeling about him - I didn't like him but I didn't hate him either. I couldn't stand him but there was something about him that I just couldn't put my finger on. After Rod walked away, I remember going up to Shirley and quietly asking her, "You really think so?"

I really, really wish I remembered Shirley's last name. I'd love to show her that we're still married. :)

Binging and purging

Did you know that if you go through the stacks and stacks of magazines you've collected through the years and take out the pages for which you bought the magazine in the first place and organize them into one simple, organized binder, you can save a crapload of space?!?!

Why didn't I think of that sooner?

Now those Martha Stewart magazines I've bought over the past 7 years will actually get used and I won't have to pretend that what's inside the magazine will magically appear in my house!!

Smarty pants?

This is my 5th week of school, my 2nd "modular" as they call it at S-H. Each modular consists of 2 classes, one on Mondays and Wednesdays, the other on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I was able to test out of the English class, which you all know I had no doubt about. I found out Tuesday night that I tested out of the bonehead math class which, to be honest, I was worried about my ability to test out. Math + Gnarini genes = non va bene. I was texted by the teacher that night and he let me know that I didn't have to come back to class. SWEET! Last night I went into my other class and asked anyone else if they tested out of math. Turns out I'm the only one who did. That's sad, if you ask me. Basic English and math skills were only mastered by one person? Ugh.

Sorry I don't have more to post. I don't think you want the play by play of my second go-around at foot surgery, nor do the ramblings in my head.

Words to live by

I have been taping Oprah ever since we got a DVR, so I haven't missed an episode for... a while. I haven't watched every single one - just the ones that are interesting to me. I watched her last show the day after it aired and don't have the heart to delete it. I don't know if you had the opportunity to watch it, but it was AMAZING. I cried almost the whole way through the show. I want to share some of her words with you now. You all know my feeling about having a calling in life, and her words just confirm my own beliefs.

"What I knew for sure from this experience with you is that we are all called. Everybody has a calling, and your real job in life is to figure out what that is and get about the business of doing it. Every time we have seen a person on this stage who is a success in their life, they spoke of the job, and they spoke of the juice that they receive from doing what they knew they were meant to be doing. We saw it in the volunteers who rocked abandoned babies in Atlanta. We saw it with those lovely pie ladies from Cape Cod making those delicious potpies. ... We saw it every time Tina Turner, Celine, Bocelli or Lady Gaga lit up the stage with their passion. Because that is what a calling is. It lights you up and it lets you know that you are exactly where you're supposed to be, doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing. And that is what I want for all of you and hope that you will take from this show. To live from the heart of yourself. You have to make a living; I understand that. But you also have to know what sparks the light in you so that you, in your own way, can illuminate the world."

Dear Heather,

I remember when we went to preschool together and had our pictures taken. The photographer told us to smile as big as we could. Mom got mad at me for having such a huge smile. You looked so tiny in your picture, with your curly red hair and big smile, too. I remember that summer at Granny's house, right after Grandpa died. We played Bloody Mary in the attic and got so freaked out because we couldn't wash the diamond off the mirror. I remember Holly played the same game in the attic bathroom all by herself, while we sat outside listening in fear, and then making us scream our heads off when she came running out, covered in red food coloring. I remember taking a drag off your cigarette when you came and lived with us for a little while. I didn't know how to smoke, so I kept inhaling and you yelled at me to stop after seeing my face turn green and then laughed as I doubled over and coughed up a lung. I have never smoked since. I remember watching you get married to Gerry at Aunt Fran's house. You were absolutely stunning. I remember watching your babies for you, and couldn't believe you had two girls! Our family loves girls, don't you think? I remember hearing about your diagnosis on my birthday. I remember sitting outside with you, just being quiet, enjoying nature. You loved nature. I remember coming to visit you at Huntsman. I think you had the best room in the building. You could see almost the entire Salt Lake Valley from your picture window. I remember sitting outside on the deck, confessing to your mother about things we did together that nobody knew, and having a good laugh afterward. I remember coming to be with you every day. I remember sitting in the bedroom, holding your hand and feeling the presence of Granny, Grandpa, and Uncle John. I remember the desperate pleas Fran and I made with the hospice to make sure that you were as comfortable and pain-free as possible. I remember hearing you say, "I love you. You're my best friend."

I love you. I miss you. Happy Birthday.

Love, Me

Serenity

I was enjoying my 30 minute book break while waiting for Rachel at her flute lesson and noticed these dark and foreboding clouds creeping up. I snapped this picture on my Android phone with the Vignette app. I love this weather.

CREATIVITY!!!

So I'm considering this partial creativity because it involves.... creating. I have ALWAYS been a hater of all things baked. I've tried bread and failed miserably. I can't even make sugar cookies without problems. I LOATHE baking.

Then a friend of mine posted a recipe for cinnamon pull-apart bread and I just had to try it because I love cinnamon. And this recipe has cinnamon AND nutmeg. And it worked!

Anyway, so I had a major success with the first loaf of this bread, and an even better success with the second go around. Then I decided to try some sweet dinner rolls. Success! Then I decided to try a bundt cake. Success! Yesterday I went out on a limb and made those dinner rolls and a different bundt cake. SUCCESS!

Today in my new found love of baking I went out and bought a few things I shouldn't have. I'm on a high from baking (although don't ask me to bake cupcakes. I'm so sick of the cupcake craze.) so I bought two 8" cake pans, a pie/cake transporter, a pastry brush (yes, I have never owned a pastry brush) and.... this beauty!



There's an old commercial that had a jingle with something like, "If I'd have known you were coming I'd have baked a cake..." Well guess what! If you come over to my house, I'll bake a cake and serve it to you on my new, shiny cake plate.

... Silly post about a stupid cake plate, I know. Maybe I've inhaled too much flour in the past 24 hours.

I cannot stop watching this

Mesmerizing.

Photos

Rachel has been expressing interest in joining the yearbook staff and I have no problem letting her go for it. One of the requirements on the application is to submit an example of her ability as a photographer. Considering she's had no training and is using our little Panasonic Lumix, I have to say that these are really, really good.

Decision Time

I made a decision with quite a bit of trepidation. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I was right in doing so. I've always been a pessimistic realist, so naturally my gut instinct/reaction is to second guess myself. The more I distance myself from the schooling I've had, the easier and easier it is for me to breathe. I realize that I've lost a lot of money having gone down the old road and am spending a little bit more with what's in store on my new road, but this new road has maybe one or two speed bumps compared to the pothole riddled old way. Hopefully my family can tell the difference because I sure can. Suddenly life is more enjoyable and I don't think I'm as intolerable as I was two weeks ago.

I just hope Rod doesn't get too disheartened at the fact that I still don't have a sense of humor.

Greg Laswell

My little sister, Olivia, introduced me to this artist, I believe. He is amazing. His work just gets better and better. I've been listening to his stuff this afternoon in attempt to get motivated to buy tickets to see him at In The Venue, Salt Lake's most disgusting music venue. I want to see him so, so, so badly, but the memories of the last time I was there are just overwhelmingly convincing me to not buy a ticket. Anyway, this song is off of his CD Three Flights From Alto Nido. It's called Farewell. I just love this. Melodies are beautiful, and the banjo adds just that much more.

Vulnerability

Over the past few days I have cried to several strangers about the things going on in my brain. I have made a decision that, while it will affect my grades and academic standing at UVU, will benefit me in the long run. I am beyond exhausted. I have been going to school for 3 years trying to satisfy UVU and their requirements for their nursing program, and the end is nowhere near in sight, especially knowing that I will have to repeat the classes I'm currently taking. They are over my head, even with studying for several hours a day, and both professors teach in a way that is not cohesive with my learning style. I have attended study groups, have made flash cards, poured over the reading material, and I still am struggling with rote memorization of what it is I'm supposed to know. I need to be taught, not told. I have shed many, many tears over school this semester. I definitely bit off more than I could chew, and I am admitting it. I have never felt so defeated in my life. Never, ever, ever.

Rod's been saying the same phrase to me for about a week now.

"There's more than one road to San Diego, Sarah."

I've been on this current road for 3 years and it's not getting me anywhere. I'm now taking the steps to get to my destination from another angle, and I feel it's the right thing to do.

This is it, I think.

I've been fighting pneumonia since last week. I've been on antibiotics since Sunday. I'm still struggling with my health. I talked to my OChem prof on Monday and he said that he'd keep the test in the testing center one more day for me so I can worry about getting better first. I called him today and asked if he would really do that.

I cannot function. I had a class yesterday that I absolutely had to go to, and as soon as I got home I crashed for 3 hours. I was dead to the world. I've been trying to study for this OChem test I have but I cannot do it. Things that made sense to me last week are flying over my head at a rate so fast that it's totally and completely foreign to me. I've been in tears since my mom went out the door to run errands. (I cannot let her see me cry for several reasons, but the main one is that she's so quick to give up on me and tell me that I just can't handle school and work family and should just quit school.) I don't even remember if I mentioned this before, so I apologize if I'm being a broken record. I printed off the class requirements for the BS English major last week. Looking at those classes, they are more my type. But I cannot let the fact that they seem so much fun and easy (yes, Contemporary Critical Approaches to Literature seems fun and easy) get to me. My problem is this - once I finish this semester, I'm still faced with more-than-likely retaking OChem (since everyone I've talked to in that class is on their second go at it.), Pathophysiology, Anatomy, Physiology, College Algebra 1050 (yes, again), and Statistics BEFORE I can start applying for the program at the U of U. That process alone could take years. I could be done with my English degree in two years. So do I want to keep eating minuscule bites out of the Nursing elephant and pray that I'm finished when Rachel starts college, or do I take a solid bite out of the reality portion of my college education I'm looking at on the other side of the buffet and finish in time to enjoy my life?

Oh, look at the time!

So I just checked the blog and see that it's been a while since I've last posted. I'll tell you what - this semester is kicking my butt. But it's a good kicking! We're almost done with February, and I'm starting to study for my second tests in both of my classes. Second tests mean halfway through the semester! My mom is here helping out, and I have to say it's been a HUGE blessing. I just hope she realizes that I have really started to depend on her more and more and it's imperative that she stays longer so I can make it through to the end of this semester!

I've got it all figured out

I have a test this week in O Chem. I also have a test this week in Microbiology.

I don't have as big a problem with Microbiology as I do with O Chem. I. JUST. DON'T. GET. IT. At all. I'm trying so desperately to get everything down, and then I look at the study guide and the previous exams given in this class, and I want to cry. Well, I have cried. But it wouldn't be Chemistry without crying, right? It's baseball where there's no crying.

So today was my second of four deep cleansing with Isagenix. As soon as I sat down this evening to start working on homework I still haven't started because I can't stop crying, I realized that I needed something to eat. On deep cleanse days, there is no eating. Just drinking water. And some more water. And this powder mixed in with water that I have to plug my nose to get down my throat because it really tastes like vomit. And then some more water.

Well, I'm a stress eater. I've known that for a while now, but DAMN. I succumbed and ate a bowl of Raisin Bran. I didn't add any sugar. Then I ate some kind of popcorn stuff that had sugar on it. Now I have this nasty aftertaste and I want to go into the bathroom and throw it all up because I'm freaked out about this week and I feel guilty for eating a bowl of cereal.

And then follow it with a water chaser.

And then cry some more.

Uggh!

I think there needs to a mandate put out by UVU stating that all professors are to profess (notice I said that and not teach? Yeah, it's because they don't teach. Professors tell. Teachers teach.) in a way that is easy for ALL learning styles to actually LEARN. I am struggling with my O Chem class right now because all the guy does is talk. There are slides, but they don't have details on them. I'm so busy trying to write down the details he's saying that by the time I get what it is he's saying written on paper, he's moved on to the next two slides and I'm lost again. We've only been in class for 3 weeks and we're already on chapter 5 and I am still trying to figure out chapter 2.

On the other hand my Microbiology professor only uses slides, but he actually discusses things with us and spends at least 10 minutes on each slide, telling us examples and about experiments and things like that. I understand that.

Sorry to vent. I'm just really frustrated. Not only with the class but at the fact that I played hooky because I'm so frustrated with the class and all I've done is decompress and eat two spoonfuls of peanut butter. Totally not with my program.

Not very crafty...

But it is noteworthy. In my attempts to whip my butt in gear this year and accomplish goals that I've had intentions on completing, I decided to be proactive about it instead of being all talk, minimal action, and no results. Sooo... There's a new man in my life. This is his picture.

His name is Scott Swift. He's my friend, and now my personal trainer. I know the cost is up there for one of those types of people, but if I'm going to get my physical state to where I want it to be, I have to do more than make the commitment to go to the gym and not have any accountability. Plus it's a bonus to have someone who knows what it is I need to accomplish some of my goals.

Like being able to run. I hate running. I have too many jiggly parts.

I'm also going to get into triathlon shape and start participating in smaller scale triathlons this year in hopes of being able to possibly (one day) complete an IronMan. Or IronWoman.

I'd much rather participate in an IronMan, though, since maybe Robert Downey, Jr. would be the grand prize.

Bullet? Dodged. Again.

My phone is lost and dead. I'm too exhausted to go look for it right now. To avoid having to recant the story several times, I'm writing it down and sending you the link. I've talked to several of you over the phone and through texts. While some of you have sent texts or called and I may or may not have responded or called you back, please, please don't take offense.

After the motorcycle accident, Rod was complaining about shoulder pain. He went to physical therapy and was told that his shoulder was making no improvements, but in fact was getting worse. After starting to discover that the rotation in his shoulder was slowly getting worse, he scheduled an appt. to have it looked at, which resulted in an MRI, which resulted in his scheduled surgery yesterday.

During surgery at some point, Rod stopped breathing. He turned blue. Not a light blue, but blue like.... BLUE as this color. The surgery was textbook but his having stopped breathing is what obviously caused all the problems. He was on the brink of dying, even with the intubation. That's all I know and that's all I want to know. When they came and got me to come back to the recovery area, I saw Rod sitting up with an O2 mask on. He was gray. After taking a sip of water, he said that he was feeling nauseated. Then we went through that part of recovery. Because he took his mask off, his saturation levels started dropping immediately. Once we were able to get him taken care of and cleaned up, another rush of nausea hit (we were prepared for it that time) and the mask came off again, causing his numbers to drop like lead. The O2 was put back on. After about 2 hours of that, she came and took him off the O2 and gave him one of those fancy breathing things and told him he needed to inhale to a certain level. He was only about halfway there. She wanted him to work on getting his saturation level back up in the 90s on his own. Wasn't happening. She got him up and walking around to see if that would change anything. Nope. Had him sit in a recliner. Nope. Every time his mask came off he'd start turning colors and his eyes would start rolling around in his head. After 4 hours in recovery, they discharged him with a tank of O2, set up the delivery of an O2 grandma-sized machine to the house, and strict instructions to keep it on all day, all night, hooked up to his CPAP machine, use it for 72 hours, and the recommendation to see a pulmonologist as soon as possible. If it weren't for the O2 tank, Rod would probably still be in the hospital, and to think this is all because of shoulder surgery. We were told that his sleep apnea played into the scheme of things and that it was magnified by the nerve block and anesthesia. I just pray that this is his last surgery, and that his body never has to go through that again. I'm exhausted, it's been a long 48 hours. We appreciate the well wishes, the calls, texts, and prayers that have been offered on his behalf. Prayer is a powerful thing.

Sara

I came across this when I was cleaning out my craft room and I have been weepy ever since. This sweet girl was my friend in 1st grade. She left such a huge, huge imprint on my heart that to this day, she is a huge reason why I want to be in pediatric oncology. People ask me why I want to go into a field that's full of lows and not many highs. My response? I love these kids. I love them more than words can express. I want to be there with them while they go through that stage in their lives. I want to be there for the lows, for the highs, and everything in between. For my friend, Sara, for all the children who have ever had cancer, and for all the children who will face cancer, I'm going to make it, and I'm going to be there with you.