tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69415682024-03-07T01:47:59.346-06:00it's blog, it's blog..."it's big, it's heavy, it's wood..."karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.comBlogger1792125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-75216224084001440462020-04-26T12:29:00.000-05:002020-04-26T12:30:19.981-05:00Visual history of 364 years ago...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhheXg4O6c5hLZpDG4THHH62Px5xlW1EJXW50ojkzIxoVURBJRJ-9N6etrwzx806hXOTzJ-1Xxh50KMQ3owbSJy9BcPsNxguT-uIX5l_gJptf6gaGshIlI1B8-I7YcEPX8zkvXBig/s1600/IMG_3350.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhheXg4O6c5hLZpDG4THHH62Px5xlW1EJXW50ojkzIxoVURBJRJ-9N6etrwzx806hXOTzJ-1Xxh50KMQ3owbSJy9BcPsNxguT-uIX5l_gJptf6gaGshIlI1B8-I7YcEPX8zkvXBig/s320/IMG_3350.HEIC" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barf.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZIMAQtJoHb9dnVtQxjY0dry8Yj9nn6Yd_v703FTVO1_4cFN-iXsSNZGmIjreXTbWLmRRxmP9zvcqDAIzThmlX6ADRZ_6a-reJe4yFvSqFPXA5rNo_Q0FzmTQ_IsGkc4RhO5wkBg/s1600/57807280249__D1249E37-7F82-496B-AA14-95BCDA41F79E.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZIMAQtJoHb9dnVtQxjY0dry8Yj9nn6Yd_v703FTVO1_4cFN-iXsSNZGmIjreXTbWLmRRxmP9zvcqDAIzThmlX6ADRZ_6a-reJe4yFvSqFPXA5rNo_Q0FzmTQ_IsGkc4RhO5wkBg/s320/57807280249__D1249E37-7F82-496B-AA14-95BCDA41F79E.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, it's not great. It's like I have a kneecap above my ankle. That's my tibia.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSy0ZVQhZDlE1pGdBJWgRiHMPJ3vudgS30OM-_hqy6agl0Tny6fZdR8yOVfXInUEp5qMnI9liUAlKmFxjOxKuKPmrt_COxiTUJQYjfkkPPlluKFn9SCrSYFYAa3xyn9m5n1hMtuQ/s1600/IMG_3348.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSy0ZVQhZDlE1pGdBJWgRiHMPJ3vudgS30OM-_hqy6agl0Tny6fZdR8yOVfXInUEp5qMnI9liUAlKmFxjOxKuKPmrt_COxiTUJQYjfkkPPlluKFn9SCrSYFYAa3xyn9m5n1hMtuQ/s320/IMG_3348.HEIC" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post relocation xray before surgery on 4/28/19.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tina from work visited me that night and brought me a balloon.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early morning before surgery. Pretty.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post surgery splint.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fancy hardware.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilpm_93JzarKDI5b3SiJ7fav8dwRNJclfwn_0jzE1SGSY-6Anrx8DoOBpeohdG1sOFUs8QWkQKioQCbw4GN5qLHW3ZT9kltZV-SDFBmtD9QJk2R96HidD3gE-8DWmmMx7wmChkAw/s1600/IMG_3346.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilpm_93JzarKDI5b3SiJ7fav8dwRNJclfwn_0jzE1SGSY-6Anrx8DoOBpeohdG1sOFUs8QWkQKioQCbw4GN5qLHW3ZT9kltZV-SDFBmtD9QJk2R96HidD3gE-8DWmmMx7wmChkAw/s320/IMG_3346.HEIC" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm like a robot now!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAeb8c7PUjjj2rzgafxVvpXyOLtVjHAGv4oi7Tki2g_7SOY53TM9QJ6kj7OTvGWMkxkmT8OFyIJXATqB1j5zFrk9slUWHf1glZpR7DGa7t-tQNEA1SNwwNs4VkFtX2WbQ7sZa3Vw/s1600/IMG_3393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAeb8c7PUjjj2rzgafxVvpXyOLtVjHAGv4oi7Tki2g_7SOY53TM9QJ6kj7OTvGWMkxkmT8OFyIJXATqB1j5zFrk9slUWHf1glZpR7DGa7t-tQNEA1SNwwNs4VkFtX2WbQ7sZa3Vw/s320/IMG_3393.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GAH.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigr9TizHNVxOSPZdrn0UErM-eHOsWaoID_0z5SW4PuQmm_ZWeYIXVNNc9popClp1_trPkMsYXLJ0m8vJw__cCz76QDxhYpIE8UZbcTBbxXNV0xD_ZVDeMAeataY8e-8T5I0v_8WA/s1600/IMG_3394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigr9TizHNVxOSPZdrn0UErM-eHOsWaoID_0z5SW4PuQmm_ZWeYIXVNNc9popClp1_trPkMsYXLJ0m8vJw__cCz76QDxhYpIE8UZbcTBbxXNV0xD_ZVDeMAeataY8e-8T5I0v_8WA/s320/IMG_3394.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Groooooossssss.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxOqwvBMaoG-mHcZu_BN7noPjChO4EwjZcUpVrt4V-not1_PQ188MvUiLVvl_KTbPMZrFCqiY_C3DCE1t-Iw_jl14C-pA-1AlQ-YP4gnERxhWPUeaxR0MjMMCprsBfDSdT41oMQ/s1600/IMG_3390.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxOqwvBMaoG-mHcZu_BN7noPjChO4EwjZcUpVrt4V-not1_PQ188MvUiLVvl_KTbPMZrFCqiY_C3DCE1t-Iw_jl14C-pA-1AlQ-YP4gnERxhWPUeaxR0MjMMCprsBfDSdT41oMQ/s320/IMG_3390.HEIC" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New splint!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A basket, a Dino Grabber and coloring books from the Tongen family!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorry, I need to take this call.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love. So much love.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before hard cast.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eww, David.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hard cast!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just in time for my 44th birthday!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frankenankle!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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<br />karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-87768227180012250932019-05-03T20:16:00.004-05:002019-05-03T20:17:52.536-05:00A Farewell to OvariesIt's a curious thing when I start to blog again. I feel like I should be outside, Camel Turkish Gold in hand, listening to NIN. Magically transported back to a time when "selfie" wasn't actually a word. God, I fucking hate that word, yet I use it because there is really no other way to explain "It's a picture of me and possibly other people but I take about six versions and then use about eight filters to make it appear I have longer eyelashes and an even skin tone."<br />
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Haven't been 'round these here blogger parts for close to three years. Sometimes when you have sooo much to say in your head, it's just easier to say nothing at all. NOTHING AT ALL. You worry that it sounds like you're whining or begging for attention. I think there's a certain loneliness that comes in your middle 40s. I know I loved turning 40. It really does feel like the new 20, but so much better. I called it the Era of Giving Zero Fucks.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjtCPKyM452zN5SIl9KFRkjREMW8ETyyHoST0_5v9VyWCsOG2yLVsyNsww7wkHSXxAEDzpIZ5mjAKAfM88WGUrJ0yC1FaQb4Fgluk05cyuhiBGaM5FIvBEj5ulWdJ_Vf8QqtPMng/s1600/barren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjtCPKyM452zN5SIl9KFRkjREMW8ETyyHoST0_5v9VyWCsOG2yLVsyNsww7wkHSXxAEDzpIZ5mjAKAfM88WGUrJ0yC1FaQb4Fgluk05cyuhiBGaM5FIvBEj5ulWdJ_Vf8QqtPMng/s320/barren.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't know who created this. If I knew, I would give endless credits because it is the best.</td></tr>
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Suddenly I just didn't care about allll the little bullshit that tripped me up in my 30s. Was I still not down to that size I wanted? Was I still lacking a BA? Did I still feel like Dustin married down when he married me? ZERO FUCKS at FORTY. It was the movie "I Feel Pretty" and instead of hitting my head during spin class (like I'd ever go to spin class), I aged one year.<br />
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I walked around like I WAS down to that size. I found a new career and didn't care that I lacked that BA. I felt like Dustin - who I always feel lucky to have in my life - was equally lucky to have me in his life.<br />
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At some point there was a shift. It was subtle, not constant. Little moments that felt like dread falling over me like the mist that falls over you in the produce section when you're comparing heads of lettuce. No reason for suddenly feeling terrified, feeling like you were homesick, feeling like that little twinge of pain in your back was one of those heart attack symptoms that are common only for women, and telling someone would make you look nuts, but ignoring it all but guarantees a cardiac event is happening, and you were the ONE woman who didn't report it, who didn't ask for help.<br />
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I have some concerns, is what I'm saying.<br />
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I tried to connect the feelings to something. Where was I at? What had I eaten? What happened an hour before? What time of year was it? Was I wearing pants or shorts? Was the moon in the 7th house of Venus? It all felt very random, until it didn't. Thanks, calendars!<br />
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About a year and some change ago I noticed that it was vaguely around the same time each month. Never the same day, never the same issue. One month it's anxiety, one month it's depression. One month I think it's depression causing the anxiety. But it's always about five days before my "lady time." (I'm nearly 44 and and I can't just say what it is. Nor can I allow
myself to say things like "Aunt Flo" because that's just horrifying and
weird.)<br />
<br />
It's been nearly 2 years ago to the day that one of my closest and most A+ friends messaged me about how she started marking hers on her calendar, like to warn herself in advance and I realized "OHMYGOD IT IS NOT JUST ME LOSING MY MIND."<br />
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So for a while I know to expect that, every 20-25 days, I'm not going to feel great. So I'm going to try walking. I'm going to try coloring. I'm going to download app after app after app. I'm going to start a Facebook group, find a therapist, change meds, tweak meds again and again and again. And I'm tired of it. Nothing works and I'm throwing EVERYTHING I can at it. It's now around 7-10 days a month where I don't feel like I'm at one end or the other of the "Losing My Mind" spectrum, where it's physically painful to even think about leaving the house or I'm 100% sure (even though rationally I know I'm 100% not) that I'm having a heart attack.<br />
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And guess what? I'm done. I'm FUCKING DONE, kids. It's all going.<br />
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Several years back, my paternal aunt (cancer survivor) had testing done and was positive for BRCA1. My paternal grandmother (2x breast cancer survivor, 1x ovarian cancer survivor) wasn't tested as that was before the days of tests, but my four sisters and I decided to all be tested. I decided before getting the results that, if they were positive, I would have it all removed - breasts, ovaries, the works - bc it would likely save my life. BRCA1 was negative, so I didn't think much about it after that.<br />
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I'm looking at this the same way. Will throwing myself into immediate menopause be brutal? Absolutely. Without a doubt. Will immediate menopause be easier to deal with than 6-8 more years of what is happening now? Absolutely. Without a doubt. Menopause is a transition. This garbage here? Feeling endless and quite honestly, life threatening in terms of how I can function on a daily basis.<br />
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The votes are in from my various providers, and four out of four medical/psychological professionals agree that this is the best move.<br />
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My ovaries gave me the best things ever. One of those best things just made a hilarious face at me from behind the screen of her iPad, and I wish I had snapped a photo to show you all. But these little things inside of me are making me LOSE MY SHIT way too often. So friends, do what you've gotta do to get to where you need to be. Ovaries treating you like royalty? Awesome! Keep them around as long as you can and you can gracefully transition into that phase as nature intended. Are they roughing you up, causing you grief, making you crazy? Evict those bitches so you can get back to giving zero fucks.<br />
<br />karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-68030712991474536222016-09-01T14:29:00.001-05:002016-09-01T14:30:02.607-05:00Midlife crisis, seasonal change and other causes of crisis. It's an interesting moment when you realize, "Hey, I know what this is. This is a mid-life crisis." It's like all these factors are combining into a white-knuckling, grinding-of-teeth perfect storm. <br />
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Or maybe it's that fall is beginning. I love fall. I love the smell of decaying leaves all around, the school supplies — "bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils." However fall brings with it some sort of memory that I don't remember. Out of nowhere there is a pit in my stomach and it feels like my heart is breaking. I don't fight it off, that's just an exercise in futility. I accept that, for a couple of weeks out of each year, my brain goes into fight-or-flight mode at a higher level than usual. My BPD switch is easier to flip and if I start crying, I may not stop.<br />
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I'm grateful for movie theaters and other distractions that release this feeling of an anvil on my chest. I work hard to stay mindful, to soak up and enjoy every hilarious thing my children say and do, and hope they can't read my eyes and see what is happening behind my surface grin.<br />
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I now realize that exercise -- in addition to being something I should do for a variety of important reasons -- is as necessary to my mental state as my Lexapro. I'm officially making a schedule for workouts and sticking to it. Two weeks of exercise (about 3-4 days a week) keep my anxiety at bay. I get "too busy" with life and after 7 days, I'm a fucking mess. Total fucking mess.<br />
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I over analyze every goddamn heartbeat (was that too fast? too slow? to close to the previous one?), every ache and pain (my throat feels funny, am I getting sick again?), every weak feeling (do I have a heart condition? is this a stroke coming?). Want to know what anxiety is? It's knowing full damn well that nothing is wrong, but constantly being reminded by your brain that something COULD be wrong. And if that's the case, your brain will not let you think of anything else. Your brain will not let you focus on the grocery list or the sink of dishes that are not washed or how much time you are wasting, worrying. You picture the worst happening. You picture yourself collapsing, the older of the two children in the house grabbing the phone and calling 9-1-1 (you have a landline specifically for them to use in an emergency). You worry about your youngest, who has just endured a year of crippling anxiety and what this will lead to. You worry you won't be there to lead her through her next bout of crippling anxiety.<br />
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And all this happens before breakfast.karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-46063669688408486692014-06-05T22:34:00.001-05:002014-06-05T22:34:11.868-05:00Chapters ending, chapters beginningTomorrow is a big day. Saturday is a bigger day. I sort of have this "calm before the storm" feeling in my chest. It's the last day of kindergarten for Oskar. It's the last day of HIGH SCHOOL for Abbey.<div>Last. Day. HIGH SCHOOL.</div><div><br></div><div>*head spinning*</div><div><br></div><div>On one hand it feels exactly like what it is -- 12 long years of school wrapping up. On the other hand it's like I've blinked and suddenly Abbey the kindergartner turned into Abbey the high school graduate. </div><div><br></div><div>It's a victory in so many ways. The significance is more than just a high school degree. It has taken so, so much work on her part -- and on the part of so many amazing individuals -- to get her here. The level of importance of this event is not lost on me.</div><div><br></div><div>There were days where I didn't know if we'd get to this spot, and really, I didn't think I cared; my main focus was "keep her alive and functioning." And we all did that -- with a lot of work and a lot of meds and a lot of tears and questions and answers that led to more questions.</div><div><br></div><div>And had she not graduated "on time" it would have been fine, but I knew that's what she really wanted. She didn't want schizophrenia to own her, and luckily we have such a substantial network of support and resources, it doesn't.</div><div><br></div><div>Am I nervous for the future? Of course I am. But for every ounce of anxiety and apprehension I have about the future, I have a pound of pride and an immeasurable amount of love.</div>karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-42191480943751675942014-05-09T20:45:00.001-05:002014-05-09T20:49:02.969-05:00I've got my work cut out for me ...I doubt myself constantly, and I don't think I hide that. Or maybe I do. I give the appearance of someone very together, but it's in the quiet moments that, as long as I know my loved ones are ok, it's safe for me to step away and quietly fall to pieces.<div><br></div><div>Tonight was one of those night where I was just annoyed. The middle child was mad I suggested he brush his teeth (gasp! No!) after shoving 10 Mike-n-Ike's into his mouth at once. As he squished the sugary matter up through the front of his teeth, all I could see was tiny, tasty little pieces wedging their way into the crevices of his teeth.</div><div><br></div><div>He stomps to the bathroom.</div><div><br></div><div>Moments later he returns. Jaw clenched, he says, "Go in the bathroom, I have a present for you."</div><div><br></div><div>I look at Dustin. I look at Olive. I'm hoping there's not a pile of poop on the floor.</div><div><br></div><div>I start to follow him and Olive joins me.</div><div><br></div><div>"Um Olive? Let me go first," I say, on the off chance that, yes, it is poop.</div><div><br></div><div>Mr. Middle Child had squeezed the better part of his toothpaste into the sink. A pile of shiny, thick, sticky, blue TMNT substance.</div><div><br></div><div>I look at him, and I can't tell if he's trying to make me laugh or make me pissed off. I'm pretty sure it was the latter, and I responded accordingly.</div><div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I'm not even sure why it made me so sad. Probably just bc I</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> thought the age that someone can deliberately plan a "gift" with the intention of being an ass isn't until at least 9. </span></div><div><br></div>karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-35113338977026412262014-05-08T22:54:00.001-05:002014-05-08T22:54:33.608-05:00I make no promises ...... that I will make daily posts. Especially when it's late at night and my posts are being made by typing on my phone with my thumb.<div><br></div><div>But I'm stepping back into the blogging room. How very 2006 of me!</div><div><br></div><div>A quick synopsis of where I am in life:</div><div><br></div><div>My oldest child is less than one month from high school graduation. My middle child just turned 6, and my youngest is 3-1/2. I'm home during the days and work 4-5 nights a week at a fantastic kid-gear resale shop. I turn 39 in about an hour. </div><div><br></div><div>And my youngest is STILL AWAKE. Right now. 10:50pm. I suspect she is wearing me down to complete weakness so I don't argue when she asks for a Monster High doll tomorrow. I will simply nod my head and hope to god the doll will distract her enough to allow me a nap.</div><div><br></div><div>I started an additional blog a whole ago, I need my daughter's permission to divulge the address, bc it's dealing with an issue that is hers. I think it's worth sharing.</div><div><br></div><div>Can anyone bring me a Dr. Pepper? I'm parched. And lazy.</div><div><br></div><div>So my blog is back. Again. Maybe.</div>karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-27186036565660670662013-03-06T22:56:00.002-06:002013-03-06T22:56:54.671-06:00it's been a long time since i've visited this neighborhood ...almost a year. holy cow. and in that spirit i want to start blogging again. yeah, i've said it before, i know, but i may as well give it a try again. i also had a blog at a different site that i've been updating on the downlow as it discusses stuff revolving around my daughter. that blog host is evaporating into thin air, so i'll be moving those posts here and will update from this spot.<br />
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stay tuned.karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-71494016484864904402012-03-19T11:45:00.002-05:002012-03-19T11:45:13.637-05:00publisher's clearinghouse blah blah blahevery so often it comes into my head that i should enter the publisher's clearinghouse sweepstakes. they have commercials where a van (the Prize Patrol) shows up at someone's house, people emerge from the van like it's a damn clown car, there are balloons and a giant check for some old lady who answers the door wearing a <a href="http://www.city-data.com/forum/attachments/fashion-beauty/56065d1263043056-ladies-house-dress-shorts-t-shirt-muumuu.jpg">house dress</a>.<br />
<br />
so naturally, i think "i should enter that contest! i could be next!" (this is not to say i own a house dress. i do not.)<br />
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but it's not just ONE contest. oh no. it's at least three emails a day, most of which read something like this:<br />
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what in the fuck is a SUPERPRIZE NUMBER? i'm fine with entering a contest, but i have to have "ownership papers" of a number? some random number?<br />
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okay, clearinghouse, i'll bite. once. maybe twice. but then you send me THIS kind of shit after i skip one entry?<br />
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"YOU WOULD RATHER HAVE SOMEONE ELSE WIN ALL THAT MONEY!"<br />
yes, THAT must be it.<br />
what kind of creepy, attempted-guilt-tripping type of crap is that? what genius came up with that notion? this did NOT make me enter the contest. no. this made me UNSUBSCRIBE. you hear that, clearinghouse? you've been 86'd from my inbox.<br />
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<br />karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-74932681619611981852012-02-08T10:43:00.001-06:002012-02-08T10:43:23.411-06:00picture upload day!waiting on a couple of work things to come in, so it's upload time, y'all.<br />
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<br />karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-11681084546821639182012-01-29T18:56:00.001-06:002012-01-29T18:56:59.794-06:00some cuteness.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-73324064056355321272012-01-19T11:31:00.001-06:002012-01-19T11:31:48.060-06:00some days.<font face="Arial, sans-serif" size="2"> <div>some days i have some bpd moments. i find myself with my defenses up, like my brain is telling me "be ready, something bad is coming. you need to protect yourself." it's not like a panic or anxiety attack, it's like i'm on alert for danger. i feel my the expression in my eyes harden, my jaw clench ... like i'm putting on this "don't fuck with me" face -- the expression you wear if you're walking alone at night and you want to look less vulnerable. i know we're all vulnerable in life, all the time, really. i just wish i knew what was triggering this nice little bout of crap. </div> <div> </div> </font> karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-54776387889967673942012-01-11T14:29:00.000-06:002012-01-11T14:33:49.174-06:00an amazing writer handed me this a long time ago ...(... and i just came across it. and i love it as much now as i loved it then. )<br />
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<h1>
Two Halves of a One-Winged Bird</h1>
her eyes catch fire <br />
the whites ashblack <br />
shadow of magma <br />
to be seen <br />
light-years from <br />
never <br />
the laugh a disguised scream <br />
as she smashes the plates and <br />
glasses with seething glee <br />
against the floor <br />
(in a place far away) <br />
we dance on the pieces <br />
and our socks paint themselves <br />
wine on chin <br />
teeth too big as though they want to <br />
get out and eat the face away around them <br />
red wet kleenex <br />
clotted lines marking time <br />
like in a flesh prison <br />
rubber room <br />
but head a cage <br />
and filled to the edge with echoes <br />
now like prison gates slamming <br />
her eyes shut <br />
she doesn’t know whether she’s <br />
in or out <br />
even in sleep she is alert <br />
though suffocating <br />
dead yet suffering <br />
i touch her with tired guilt <br />
insomniacally <br />
and flee finally into <br />
dreams <br />
she is there, smoldering <br />
and slapping me with invisible objects which <br />
she knows are real and sacred <br />
as scarred words <br />
i believe in her <br />
i know she knows i am <br />
nothing <br />
deep down <br />
and this is to be clung to <br />
she wills herself away <br />
yet in her withered will i am with her <br />
and so we stay instead <br />
and try to extend the <br />
dead night into <br />
ever <br />
always alone with one <br />
another after another <br />
mending <br />
mask-lipped <br />
embedded in our embers <br />
buried in each other like <br />
two tombs <br />
tapping at the fragile indestructible because <br />
invisible <br />
walls of silence <br />
between us>karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-49613085890298928892012-01-05T16:06:00.002-06:002012-01-05T16:06:55.260-06:00obsessed with boots.even though i'm a girl, idon't have piles and piles of shoes. iam a size 11 and that can really fuck with your in-store shoe options, and when ido find shoes, idon't usually have money to toss around. for example, i love these UGG boots:<br />
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i also really love these goodies from Torrid:<br />
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however my true boot love is reserved for these, which i bought years ago at the minot flea market and i wore them until they fell apart and only duct tape held them together. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2mmthNYNGaO6uPWRgERGd3_RnCEFYE-NTI4dnWHlOvs4c5k0L1Xp7nd6APNI4VgQQIzgBm1jNj946R3Atdh2PTw73ws0N5VkyRr-Qe27XcRyhF-ciemUA75Z61rICGlpsndvEA/s1600/boots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2mmthNYNGaO6uPWRgERGd3_RnCEFYE-NTI4dnWHlOvs4c5k0L1Xp7nd6APNI4VgQQIzgBm1jNj946R3Atdh2PTw73ws0N5VkyRr-Qe27XcRyhF-ciemUA75Z61rICGlpsndvEA/s320/boots.jpg" width="311" /></a></div>
aren't they lovely? perfect with jeans, perfect with skirts and tights, and i need to find another pair. <br />
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this is all very shallow, isn't it? stereotypical girl-wants-shoes thing. i think I've been stressed for a while and maybe there is something to the idea of retail therapy - or even just online browsing. who knows. i know that smoking sounds pretty great (no worries, i'm not starting again) and i suddenly think that living in a shack in the middle of nowhere would be fantastic too (don't worry, i'm not wearing a hoodie or working on a manifesto). i think i'm just ... tired. more on that another time. for now, i seek boots.karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-1937534174293796062011-12-09T12:33:00.001-06:002011-12-09T12:34:28.695-06:00Sure, I actually mailed some of these ...but posting it here is WAY easier.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyDXDPxQjIZWp1BjshbgXbFlDbnBM57mnnhxDGJxrUQ0Do2qdxHFEYAEXOzfEFC0TEC_Ir7S0RHy0iVPaKo_QzvX5mCbLH_bAHHGTlvDUeWAXimX6k3SkQZMD0kS1JKDDFl_qdyg/s1600/finalcard.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyDXDPxQjIZWp1BjshbgXbFlDbnBM57mnnhxDGJxrUQ0Do2qdxHFEYAEXOzfEFC0TEC_Ir7S0RHy0iVPaKo_QzvX5mCbLH_bAHHGTlvDUeWAXimX6k3SkQZMD0kS1JKDDFl_qdyg/s1600/finalcard.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-55771451003463370342011-12-07T15:56:00.001-06:002011-12-07T16:00:17.159-06:00olive is cute. it's a fact.i feel like anything i blog about today would be just the usual blah blah blah kind of crap that flows so freely from my brain, so instead i think i'll post a cute picture of olive.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL37JZWtitFdhrTogO0-5x8vZFrZ_qX9spfVa2TJodlDbLgLCrsp6AI0iagLW2hXjhMZPPE8YZ3KVFUjCeJrfoiHcS5KhU8mixyiKec2hl3opGcXPN57WsPlMCzfSQW2QRikYC0g/s1600/IMG_1549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL37JZWtitFdhrTogO0-5x8vZFrZ_qX9spfVa2TJodlDbLgLCrsp6AI0iagLW2hXjhMZPPE8YZ3KVFUjCeJrfoiHcS5KhU8mixyiKec2hl3opGcXPN57WsPlMCzfSQW2QRikYC0g/s320/IMG_1549.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-36139198309793232282011-11-28T10:42:00.001-06:002011-11-28T10:52:17.546-06:00a few weekend pics.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpBLbOx8IGV0AtlXP7IT-kWyTiu3BR-rTPz4zPBUtDN7a8sjQQinTjFqD3jN4AcuhXOO1uysYobSYuPG8Sn4i2wRtX0z6u-pCg7-ISR_GBNPrL2S-9h9yWvPHt1WMATamGWMezQ/s1600/IMG_4292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpBLbOx8IGV0AtlXP7IT-kWyTiu3BR-rTPz4zPBUtDN7a8sjQQinTjFqD3jN4AcuhXOO1uysYobSYuPG8Sn4i2wRtX0z6u-pCg7-ISR_GBNPrL2S-9h9yWvPHt1WMATamGWMezQ/s320/IMG_4292.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">thanks for the awesome fort, Uncle C.!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvWfM3GYtkoOjC4PRfKmaCKOkvA4S3SbUheJmzi2UlQ-4whguHgC_88pwQ-yI4BWQo-_mOS5GvaxpQRtsug0dM5zsYtXLFVu02wDGbyGPRaq2oBhs1WeVG-NEdO0Y60CDIhkfHyg/s1600/IMG_4294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvWfM3GYtkoOjC4PRfKmaCKOkvA4S3SbUheJmzi2UlQ-4whguHgC_88pwQ-yI4BWQo-_mOS5GvaxpQRtsug0dM5zsYtXLFVu02wDGbyGPRaq2oBhs1WeVG-NEdO0Y60CDIhkfHyg/s320/IMG_4294.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">so, so sleepy post food.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ccQXfCEfNLGNm8x0fBp5KrCAFlcT2tJluY_bTYYof1gcYQEl7IZBqY1pAT1_5OnHMmN0gMghLDqMPIDpjMFFJG5GHpWST1AQrgubYr4m5IDT7HNO6exJmwXcqTfbLQ_WVVbGRw/s1600/IMG_4296.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ccQXfCEfNLGNm8x0fBp5KrCAFlcT2tJluY_bTYYof1gcYQEl7IZBqY1pAT1_5OnHMmN0gMghLDqMPIDpjMFFJG5GHpWST1AQrgubYr4m5IDT7HNO6exJmwXcqTfbLQ_WVVbGRw/s320/IMG_4296.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the awesome Abbey.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Uw4ZS3tEMV178OCW77y2Wp_3k0yfIDlr5BTh6E7dsZJXVa8RLcsxkhVz_2QbX4ZtAXk6JTZcHI5UrN_k2KmqBjE3BchdmaFxm1jBXCholgYvNWAZkpizLYHXRu1JsJZEnBaDaQ/s1600/IMG_4297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Uw4ZS3tEMV178OCW77y2Wp_3k0yfIDlr5BTh6E7dsZJXVa8RLcsxkhVz_2QbX4ZtAXk6JTZcHI5UrN_k2KmqBjE3BchdmaFxm1jBXCholgYvNWAZkpizLYHXRu1JsJZEnBaDaQ/s320/IMG_4297.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">naptime for kiddies.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEintZ8jNhlaSqRIe7dry99ZxCUss1UQeaNux8xoLWrmu1acI-7URLr3phsSH4kTHX2wzVksi0pf7fW09rbnl6IU9W8aDRvtzF1-u_Mw6zpQ5sdYyboZyGBBJydXmON8jYyPJZzdeQ/s1600/IMG_4301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEintZ8jNhlaSqRIe7dry99ZxCUss1UQeaNux8xoLWrmu1acI-7URLr3phsSH4kTHX2wzVksi0pf7fW09rbnl6IU9W8aDRvtzF1-u_Mw6zpQ5sdYyboZyGBBJydXmON8jYyPJZzdeQ/s320/IMG_4301.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sweet Oskar.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Tn-tEd5Vu0PGsents6G_BMA2rNfxNLmPIbVyBd6rCmIsmWr-LruGPC__vWvq3sBCURxcU4eK1XJtCx4QLb9dQ2jHt-HgtufzJX3koJkDzlfG9wZawc0J8evXltIas68NjvgB-Q/s1600/IMG_4303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Tn-tEd5Vu0PGsents6G_BMA2rNfxNLmPIbVyBd6rCmIsmWr-LruGPC__vWvq3sBCURxcU4eK1XJtCx4QLb9dQ2jHt-HgtufzJX3koJkDzlfG9wZawc0J8evXltIas68NjvgB-Q/s320/IMG_4303.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma Jen getting love from Olive.</td></tr>
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<br />karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-76443922429952792752011-11-22T15:14:00.001-06:002011-11-22T15:17:15.797-06:00a damn cute video.<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/e7_sDr-cO6A" width="420"></iframe>karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-90425936170338007172011-11-21T11:39:00.001-06:002011-11-21T12:18:13.368-06:00confession time:<div style="font-family: inherit;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">some days i feel my heart get all weirdy and i then have to spend the next 15 minutes doing breathing that will calm me down. not calm my heart down, bc really that little palipatation lasted about 1 second. nope, just breathing that will calm me down from worry about my heart. which i shouldn't worry so much over.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>
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</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">after brammy died of a heart attack i got increasingly worried about my health, bc even though he had some health issues, he was only 33. every heartburn that seems to come out of nowhere, every skipped beat sends a speed-of-thought message to my brain that signals for my panic to kick in.</span></div>
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">also, every so often i get an aura migraine, which is scary and makes me worry i'm having a stroke. which is unlikely, but even just the migraine stuff is hard when you have little ones -- first sign is usually vision issues in one eye to the point where i can't see without having a black spot where one eye is trying to focus. then the dysphasia, which is the inability to speak using the correct words for things. then hand/tongue numbness. and, if you have any history with panic, you know that tingling fingers is a part of panic, which means if i sense a slight tingle, it flags my brain as "PANIC NOW! MIGRAINE ON THE WAY!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">why am i confessing all this? i don't know, i feel like it's some dirty little secret that i'm tired of carrying all on my own (although dustin knows about it) and i'm so fucking tired of being afraid so much. it was really bad when i was at home alone with the little kids more -- it would get so overblown that a slight feeling of dread would balloon into what felt like my arms being on fire - necessitating dustin to come home from work bc i was sure something bad was happening to me and the little ones would be all alone and scared and abandoned.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial Narrow,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
i've even gotten a fucking SELF-HELP CD that i listen to when i have the slightest sense of anxiety that is unwarranted. (it's from a company in the UK, so they could be reading out of the phonebook but the accent alone seems to help me out.) yep, i'm that person. i've stopped drinking soda with caffeine bc it never fails - i go overboard with it (bc coca-cola is the most awesome-est beverage on the planet) and BOOM -- racing heartbeat. feeling of dread that comes from raching heartbeat, and then my brain can't be stopped. </div>
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</span><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
monday i will be tested for all things allergic and if it's in the clear, my next move will be to buy the biggest bag of cashews EVER. (and, fun fact, cashews can help with anxiety. WIN.)<br />
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*update<br />
i just ate a slice of pecan pie because my love of pecan pie, which i have not had in years, outweighed my fear of allergic reaction. i'm pretty sure the fluffy lips feeling i experienced was psychosomatic, but we'll see ... and the fact that i'm not FREAKING out over this shows that blogging about all this crap has helped me a little bit.<br />
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**update 2<br />
no unusual allergic reactions. YAY PIE!<br />
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***update 3 (just two minutes later than previous update)<br />
my throat feels sore -- not itchy, but like i have a tender throat when i swallow. probably unrelated. STAY TUNED!<br />
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****update 4<br />
just heard that allergic reactions can take up to TWO hours to show up. are you fucking kidding me? </div>
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</div>karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-74772482809304698432011-11-09T22:30:00.001-06:002011-11-09T22:30:30.277-06:00Random thought ...that popped into my head: the art collection at the Minot public library. I have no idea why, but suddenly I was remembering walking through the aisle that displays the collection you can actually rent. then I started thinking about the hours spent using the card catalog to find books, the tapes I'd check out, I can even recall the smell of the place. I've not heard about the damage the library sustained in the flood, but I'm guessing it must've been substantial. I miss that library. <br />I was sort of planning it to be a crappy, stressful night -- and it mostly wasn't, except that poor Olly had a fever. now sleeping feels like what I really need.<br />karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-47115348247261505752011-11-09T13:37:00.001-06:002011-11-09T13:37:27.189-06:00and then there are the days ...<font face="Arial, sans-serif" size="2"> <div>... where if i think too much about certain stuff, i'll just fall apart. blergh.</div> <div> </div> </font> karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-54054312362233710492011-11-03T10:41:00.001-05:002011-11-03T12:36:33.650-05:00pictures! lots of pictures! and exclamation points!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLREZjRabAKztHI-KN5HTxrJE8o5fMgw8XBc3mGx9goT7UWimnzB5uveUVTSR9OR-rE7Ly570G2RsQ7sxTf2M37d8D79Gax6KzeXjEpPeZqn2Gm7bk-TsSFhFJlCCEw5fg6XK60w/s1600/IMG_9345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLREZjRabAKztHI-KN5HTxrJE8o5fMgw8XBc3mGx9goT7UWimnzB5uveUVTSR9OR-rE7Ly570G2RsQ7sxTf2M37d8D79Gax6KzeXjEpPeZqn2Gm7bk-TsSFhFJlCCEw5fg6XK60w/s320/IMG_9345.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me and the youngest larson sister.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Rl-qxjD7B5Bt2Mk8iUPHGUmZCCm2RX-czalNOwhW9aOgWwCnnHYH-7vXHP3zVYktN9Vvch0IlcYfM2OKOo7_FTzy6-q6Lwl7aYQMEYv-bLKqOYlVoCqhCmKeGCFjIWYmCEMzEw/s1600/IMG_9360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Rl-qxjD7B5Bt2Mk8iUPHGUmZCCm2RX-czalNOwhW9aOgWwCnnHYH-7vXHP3zVYktN9Vvch0IlcYfM2OKOo7_FTzy6-q6Lwl7aYQMEYv-bLKqOYlVoCqhCmKeGCFjIWYmCEMzEw/s320/IMG_9360.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sweet oskar.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7bBznXFV6Wv03_nr0baPKX4XbjAgAGjb2oe9jQxSSQcoyFel8ziCcVo84tkVIE3ZNAyXt2klzhXSqM4SfD69hVl16HD89SYVSe_hLte9bu7dW7o9cjGad7L98P8PSpxJpVZr5gw/s1600/IMG_9366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7bBznXFV6Wv03_nr0baPKX4XbjAgAGjb2oe9jQxSSQcoyFel8ziCcVo84tkVIE3ZNAyXt2klzhXSqM4SfD69hVl16HD89SYVSe_hLte9bu7dW7o9cjGad7L98P8PSpxJpVZr5gw/s320/IMG_9366.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lunch at sammy's pizza - always a win.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxD61LeeQjUhz-vMQ60BAge3_Q5mXM1F7j68ydV6xXxvUNzuqm5mfenaFWZ0Oc8nsjZHIxmN9uF6ETF_uIs3DF_3wWDRnR_EnhD578irfFkPrVsJG7iVtj3MMN6eEgaA-lMkrs3g/s1600/IMG_9373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxD61LeeQjUhz-vMQ60BAge3_Q5mXM1F7j68ydV6xXxvUNzuqm5mfenaFWZ0Oc8nsjZHIxmN9uF6ETF_uIs3DF_3wWDRnR_EnhD578irfFkPrVsJG7iVtj3MMN6eEgaA-lMkrs3g/s320/IMG_9373.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">us girls.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvR7-A26VE5Ns-xnJZiFbAPP2WwTjAuFQYqrm5R9BDqUX_YOq5VsAyDEwwpMY4229zTEx0DN3VWLHRR9uIbBcuogHFv77DfVBxlROZNXGFx6RIFQnFJNpFB-hT4034GO1KhOo_KA/s1600/IMG_9377.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvR7-A26VE5Ns-xnJZiFbAPP2WwTjAuFQYqrm5R9BDqUX_YOq5VsAyDEwwpMY4229zTEx0DN3VWLHRR9uIbBcuogHFv77DfVBxlROZNXGFx6RIFQnFJNpFB-hT4034GO1KhOo_KA/s320/IMG_9377.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">olive loves grandma jen.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEzDmYHZLK6FoZZ0ruxK3ppnXloFMCG4CMoKpiSuBFTJcmwQ3ArqZIlXLsalkF0CMhY6MXrez7qEVOBUG3UtD60fS2igQCNClmeE_eRWTpEnUv9iyQATeevd1RhoF1DORoReXLKg/s1600/IMG_9520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEzDmYHZLK6FoZZ0ruxK3ppnXloFMCG4CMoKpiSuBFTJcmwQ3ArqZIlXLsalkF0CMhY6MXrez7qEVOBUG3UtD60fS2igQCNClmeE_eRWTpEnUv9iyQATeevd1RhoF1DORoReXLKg/s320/IMG_9520.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">what a face.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Po6piDPQ7XgJpczGiFXYbHiVsr3KC3yGUKODs78gxWz0lof_wBnuDxUohKxKLTQDhyuSUubeChtY2gCBAxe04yojKUdOmIfnubWid_YvIfonmO0zfV5TZA0rKP9714DLyS3UKQ/s1600/IMG_9532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Po6piDPQ7XgJpczGiFXYbHiVsr3KC3yGUKODs78gxWz0lof_wBnuDxUohKxKLTQDhyuSUubeChtY2gCBAxe04yojKUdOmIfnubWid_YvIfonmO0zfV5TZA0rKP9714DLyS3UKQ/s320/IMG_9532.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sleepy birthday girl.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIrct7Q7i177Dprbjc8wl4cVij5G7RP4ytiW_ZHWTfqQHyEG54HhAiZe5cWbqoSMbQ4bjHBFVITvImA-eDSMUNkD5hazWMUAsBBThIaPgTuny38HJPjCgTYWH95POcM9t5t_XWTg/s1600/IMG_9536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIrct7Q7i177Dprbjc8wl4cVij5G7RP4ytiW_ZHWTfqQHyEG54HhAiZe5cWbqoSMbQ4bjHBFVITvImA-eDSMUNkD5hazWMUAsBBThIaPgTuny38HJPjCgTYWH95POcM9t5t_XWTg/s320/IMG_9536.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"olive's birthday, blah blah blah ..."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWTIvI6OropKHLovpbhSRzCZpETmKVcQMhEyqTx9IyklDctiWcs0OtA59Ee0RXpJzwlM1rzJEHTnGjem_HdhnGdVTjvRrNbHV27pbc18fIAv945ettlosSlIZX2tqH41mfS4VKng/s1600/IMG_9549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWTIvI6OropKHLovpbhSRzCZpETmKVcQMhEyqTx9IyklDctiWcs0OtA59Ee0RXpJzwlM1rzJEHTnGjem_HdhnGdVTjvRrNbHV27pbc18fIAv945ettlosSlIZX2tqH41mfS4VKng/s320/IMG_9549.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3 of 4 sisters plus a lil olive.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCblAfUyD7ssj8Wt0Wr7T7Pk8wHRjhLrs7WuX7dfPeLzNpEJw_lw3_NikBTJ3YLBBWTWLxQVszsEtoKY5ZJX9rDrH3Ta6-kO6fzRkEvPAhyd3F0w7dDTeBt2_UKHKx6lGx4vw1vA/s1600/IMG_9582.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCblAfUyD7ssj8Wt0Wr7T7Pk8wHRjhLrs7WuX7dfPeLzNpEJw_lw3_NikBTJ3YLBBWTWLxQVszsEtoKY5ZJX9rDrH3Ta6-kO6fzRkEvPAhyd3F0w7dDTeBt2_UKHKx6lGx4vw1vA/s320/IMG_9582.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">olive explaining something important to auntie m.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiBkLL9OzW95EHz0pqe1oi6i7YksaL6PY99OmNBhzIZ-bblOVce1g4nWpdgH1zQokE7Al2q_KSDuyn_YPn6K051_y8PKhVhet17C1nC3DXgVKWh4uYZ46IL07DCBR-SVrY96KZKQ/s1600/IMG_9669.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiBkLL9OzW95EHz0pqe1oi6i7YksaL6PY99OmNBhzIZ-bblOVce1g4nWpdgH1zQokE7Al2q_KSDuyn_YPn6K051_y8PKhVhet17C1nC3DXgVKWh4uYZ46IL07DCBR-SVrY96KZKQ/s320/IMG_9669.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">gnome olive!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbwFrlviv9q6Ag-VVps947x8R3FCha_9Ki-44Z9cul3wdA-cufxveKjDRlI6VyBNWCnHsgITtj0QTg8oXVt6C5sr87fct2_csx-ytRkxF6i7C18U4811mAZcjI8U-ikI8jYsfHiw/s1600/IMG_9675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbwFrlviv9q6Ag-VVps947x8R3FCha_9Ki-44Z9cul3wdA-cufxveKjDRlI6VyBNWCnHsgITtj0QTg8oXVt6C5sr87fct2_csx-ytRkxF6i7C18U4811mAZcjI8U-ikI8jYsfHiw/s320/IMG_9675.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mmm ... cake.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQbwP5jjNQQ6USHUKcfwOrY8ycp6-qkx8ppugcS9j0qSboUjQyY3Kw-pft1RvM_CAdyrUfYzs3pjU_nG0RDVZymT_ghCOXNb0rbpcmdxR2Uix28_hr_F4itJaQ_OYrmzwID8Adw/s1600/IMG_9682.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQbwP5jjNQQ6USHUKcfwOrY8ycp6-qkx8ppugcS9j0qSboUjQyY3Kw-pft1RvM_CAdyrUfYzs3pjU_nG0RDVZymT_ghCOXNb0rbpcmdxR2Uix28_hr_F4itJaQ_OYrmzwID8Adw/s320/IMG_9682.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"i'm one!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgz0dsJ2AgyE8BzZ-LpLi5zprIZit7SZ6uoOTwbt77zV-igVwakl_JC7QWfVGM3IrtGg5qK7wjm38J0tPLsBZnbippq8HIxHtglI2jwoBFGaAVyRTjXPwfDQT6hd_bKWJmL9ElnA/s1600/IMG_9704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgz0dsJ2AgyE8BzZ-LpLi5zprIZit7SZ6uoOTwbt77zV-igVwakl_JC7QWfVGM3IrtGg5qK7wjm38J0tPLsBZnbippq8HIxHtglI2jwoBFGaAVyRTjXPwfDQT6hd_bKWJmL9ElnA/s320/IMG_9704.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">she loves her aunt.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuigJzXzK94dZcK6rONqgvjwd1QRbXF4Q2GjhHcUCulDJhY7vHks7CQPFJI1nOcg5WErlLPYFp1S7mcrxUhFXWlvK81YXEXEY7okqmUSn4T_LqubfjRR9ET0ckHViuiilq0XrfAQ/s1600/IMG_9706.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuigJzXzK94dZcK6rONqgvjwd1QRbXF4Q2GjhHcUCulDJhY7vHks7CQPFJI1nOcg5WErlLPYFp1S7mcrxUhFXWlvK81YXEXEY7okqmUSn4T_LqubfjRR9ET0ckHViuiilq0XrfAQ/s320/IMG_9706.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"yayyy!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-45395527129868228012011-10-31T09:01:00.002-05:002011-10-31T09:01:24.578-05:00Pics o' the weekend<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYDuu2g5Rb9U-Haa82nAhPJ40GRdqzKkMNMsPVL4B2in9nLY_dNACYHlMVpLNtrOSue1YljkL2VQmj1vRgB0MLbZO1-beDFJAb7HNMMiKtqn3L7f3KnQ0YtyNNIJ5tj9csAND9w/s320/Alien.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="239" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">being an alien made her angry.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWzxozPyL8zh8o1ec-h0kDdIa3AWHukAymEbHhQkpEXtLiQavDex7a7J6tjUdNIFBk5D1za-KJuEWHV468L2zlrUMANK2QKJ4_FeygPIWSofxz4eShLOkGqe1KFdoq4S49buk8IA/s1600/IMG_4190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWzxozPyL8zh8o1ec-h0kDdIa3AWHukAymEbHhQkpEXtLiQavDex7a7J6tjUdNIFBk5D1za-KJuEWHV468L2zlrUMANK2QKJ4_FeygPIWSofxz4eShLOkGqe1KFdoq4S49buk8IA/s320/IMG_4190.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">being a gnome made her angry.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPFyeJVi6wpR1fgyIV6_gbliJvNsv_0keQPHfXrEg8UjQZbxd_OLHnIg_-Yvzhx_WIh3ZgDqXb0AJHGoQfsTY1kifNaGJHl6KaD-2D2LpZ7hJL3Qtf306bO60kDwrMFFEJxaqyA/s1600/IMG_4186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPFyeJVi6wpR1fgyIV6_gbliJvNsv_0keQPHfXrEg8UjQZbxd_OLHnIg_-Yvzhx_WIh3ZgDqXb0AJHGoQfsTY1kifNaGJHl6KaD-2D2LpZ7hJL3Qtf306bO60kDwrMFFEJxaqyA/s320/IMG_4186.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ribbon on a gift from Meg made her happy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjafO9kWpJGeB0aXScf5GRRYSHYX04UMc0yYGkWROX49dKTC4_7tNj6HEgSPwaThVHrHG11kbXZBeSBO1dbdV_AhdpkmsL7iUC1RRVPJHNyO0x5ZsRFPAbWf1xIsFfFK-0lMDgPKg/s1600/IMG_4209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjafO9kWpJGeB0aXScf5GRRYSHYX04UMc0yYGkWROX49dKTC4_7tNj6HEgSPwaThVHrHG11kbXZBeSBO1dbdV_AhdpkmsL7iUC1RRVPJHNyO0x5ZsRFPAbWf1xIsFfFK-0lMDgPKg/s320/IMG_4209.JPG" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">even Spidey has to get groceries.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjohYc7WTfnphUELKvaoePzG7xncQZjk7sGIkvuyZb1_0E7Cd1JpJKlesMlj1lCK7P7W-FtjQ1Oq_JmgbnIHh-DxwxWMP7tdE_vglrniYFsISctEDkxZO9cJeavhIFsZc1rXNjzCg/s1600/IMG_4201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjohYc7WTfnphUELKvaoePzG7xncQZjk7sGIkvuyZb1_0E7Cd1JpJKlesMlj1lCK7P7W-FtjQ1Oq_JmgbnIHh-DxwxWMP7tdE_vglrniYFsISctEDkxZO9cJeavhIFsZc1rXNjzCg/s320/IMG_4201.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fighting crime is hard work and is rewarded with a sucker.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLHLzQIJtb8IRZPD1QTH0vAztIpp0Jr6EQZxmZwm-IUsyHNowuPl_f-uvzdJtUjs-sSv54x_MQCY3Co7aVEWHOX2HFjgcq2wT0D713sSKGItt7KkyIT6o2Xs1grFCk3zlvijV1ow/s1600/IMG_4202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLHLzQIJtb8IRZPD1QTH0vAztIpp0Jr6EQZxmZwm-IUsyHNowuPl_f-uvzdJtUjs-sSv54x_MQCY3Co7aVEWHOX2HFjgcq2wT0D713sSKGItt7KkyIT6o2Xs1grFCk3zlvijV1ow/s320/IMG_4202.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olive and Dustin. Love.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV-AOimAnt4zEVUUtBsLISZNlAKbYQkKFYN0AEVwM2TwDGV9L0qH9oob_K4GYOZvtkOOyOuyp_zD9DiZVKVxHwQjk8LsVmKX_uLf8TD-GpKccYKwdBDSuBki3A4tossxcPNNaW-g/s1600/IMG_4204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV-AOimAnt4zEVUUtBsLISZNlAKbYQkKFYN0AEVwM2TwDGV9L0qH9oob_K4GYOZvtkOOyOuyp_zD9DiZVKVxHwQjk8LsVmKX_uLf8TD-GpKccYKwdBDSuBki3A4tossxcPNNaW-g/s320/IMG_4204.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halloween night at the community center.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-33325868959610439912011-10-30T12:42:00.000-05:002011-10-30T12:42:57.469-05:00too ... much ... cake ...yes, there is such a thing. yesterday (and friday and thursday) we've had a lot of bday cake. and cupcakes. and pie. and OHHHHHHHHH i think i was punched in the stomach. owwwww.<br />
<br />
*shakes fist in air*<br />
<br />
damn you, cake ... DAMN YOU.<br />
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*assume fetal position, whimper*karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-18202372190750653622011-10-28T13:51:00.001-05:002011-10-28T13:51:59.647-05:00the genius of a mini cupcake<font face="Arial, sans-serif" size="2"> <div>you know, you can eat several before it actually counts as one regular sized cupcake.</div> <div> </div> <div><font face="Segoe Script, sans-serif" size="6" color="#808080"><i><b>*The more you know*</b></i></font></div> <div> </div> </font> karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6941568.post-87184650914042789362011-10-28T13:33:00.001-05:002011-10-28T13:34:31.272-05:00Olive plays dress-up at daycare<div class="mobile-photo">
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</span>karihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01442715948309681106noreply@blogger.com0