Clever Blog Title

Hello, we are still alive. :)

The holidays have been crazy, right? Tell me about it. I've been so busy working and getting shit done for xmas... yesterday I had a moment where I was bored and remembered how nice that actually was.

Brad and I got each other nifty gifties and our families were all happy with their presents and we with ours. The highlight of Christmas had to be Dad's genuinely excited comment, "You know, we could make the area under the houseboat a dungeon with chains and shackles and everything, and like, keep people down there!" I love Christmas. And his joke, "East Carter has a chess team now, did you know? They won a tournament in Lexington and they were kicked out of the hotel because the owner couldn't stand chess nuts boasting in an open foyer." The more he told it the less I could contain myself! Got him to giggling so much he couldn't tell it anymore. I'm not kidding, I almost peed after telling number 3.

I've been taking more and more pics at the studio. I run into hangups sometimes, like where to put all of one family's three infants for a group picture... that was fun. Or the family with one jackass that ruins every picture because they are being obnoxious. You can tell I'm new at it because rather than the standard 40-60 images, I'll download 100+. I'm going to break our computer... haha.

I got a kid to be happy today, the only way being to let him play with my necklace. The parents didn't really want pictures of their son playing with jewelry, however if you took it away from him even a second he would scream bloody murder... lol. I need to find better trinkets I guess.

Oh, weight loss. What happened to us? Brad is doing just fine. I'm to the point now where I forbid him to tell me how much he weighs everyday. Literally he weighs himself every damn morning, and it's always less. He said he can't wait to start exercising, I told him he wasn't allowed, that *I* was going to start exercising, and I will let him know when he can start... LOL. Give me a break. Seriously, he is at 241. Jerk! I don't know mine exactly, last I checked it was about 198. It goes up and down, I have all kinds of woman issues going on though, so who the hell knows. Maybe my last cyst was a 2 pounder...

But I also have some good news for myself, one big deal was my dad noticing I've lost weight. Dad doesn't notice things very often. My hair had been streaked for months and he only noticed recently. The other day, "You're clothes look baggy, are you losing weight?" Yes. "Brad better watch out, you're gonna get all skinny and he'll get cuckold!" But really, I can take my pants off without unbuttoning them or anything, haha.

And this was pretty funny, the reason I decided to get back on here and blog: fat flab.

You know, when people lose weight, and this skin just kinda hangs around? It's pretty gross, right? Well yesterday I'm running my hands over where my tummy has been meeting my thighs now for a good couple years and it just felt... off. What was that? It's like... flab. Previously it's been bloated/pillsbury doughboy squishiness. And now it's different. There is definitely less there, but it's pleasant plumpness is gone. It practically FOLDS over. I guess most people would feel pretty icky about this, but I am personally pretty excited! I mean, hey! That means something is working, right!? lol. Sure it's hideous to look at, but it was a noticeable change, which was good to experience. So I stood up and just kinda pulled and massaged my belly fat and it is absolutely different. It's so WEIRD! Brad catches me doing this all the time now. It's like science fiction! I'm disappearing! One morning they are just gonna find my skin and I'll be gone!

So yay for fat flabs! I want to touch it right now... that is exactly what I am going to do. See ya later, folks!

Downer Alert

I'm depressed.

Not clinically this time, just exhausted and feel defeated and what have you.

I should just donate my body to science and get it OVER with!

I'm hurting. The damn left ovary again. I don't know if it's stress cause of work, but last month my good aunt flo came like almost a week early. Ok, I can deal with that. But I was getting so used to a nice regular functioning down there.

And now, two weeks later, I'm spotting. At first I thought... hey, maybe I'm pregnant. But it doesn't add up. I could have barely ovulated. And this kinda feels like ovulation pains. So why would I be bleeding? And it hurts. So maybe another cyst, why not? Sometimes I think my whole body is one big fucking cyst. I'm just a cyst with arms and legs.

I've checked into things in the past couple of years. Got my thyroid tested, I'm on meds, it helps with mood swings, but it also has an effect on my cycle. Once I ran out of meds and didn't think it was super important to really care, didn't have them for a few months, and did not have a period once during that time. It was weird. Decided I had those meds for a reason and went back on them. Clockwork after that. The pregnancy in January, the miscarriage in March. Still clockwork. September-October, cyst party. Horrible. Now it's December and it is hurting again. Everything is haywire.

I've always suspected I have hormone issues, but I was tested and nothing came up. I can't believe that. I'm the hormonal equivalent of a teenager, complete with ridiculous acne lesions. I grow body hair like it is going out of style. I could literally grow a beard if I wanted. It would rival Brad's. I'm just a giant mess. One of the reasons I'm trying so hard to be healthy and lose weight is cause I figure it could only help this situation. At least I would have less skin surface area, so theoretically, I wouldn't have so many damn zits or body hair. Right?

But nothing is ever found wrong with me. I really want to just bug the shit out of my gyno, but I feel like I'm being stupid or something. I was just there, ya know. They didn't even do an ultrasound to look at my ovary, but I really feel like they should. WHAT is going on down there? I'm almost 30, I want babies. It never occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to (I guess that doesn't occur to any girl). But come February, I can be medically defined as infertile. That's just a year's worth of trying with no results. I'm gonna try to hold on until March or April, but the closer it gets, the more anxious I get.

And I have always thought it would be so easy. Getting pregnant, first of all, but also in the event that I couldn't have my own children, I would just adopt. No biggie. But it really is a biggie. I don't know if I want to have a baby that isn't mine. Does that make me heartless? I really think I would rather be a foster parent than adopt an infant. Everyone wants to adopt infants, but not many people want to foster kids. And this house is like narnia for most kids. Video games, endless tv and movies, internet, all the jazz kids like (and Brad... hmmm).

Was at grandma's house going through pictures so I can put together one of her Christmas presents. I just sat there and cried the entire time. Seeing all my babies as babies. What happened? It really doesn't feel like that long ago. I get so sad... you see a baby and you see everything... all these different paths their lives could take, all these potentials. As they grow, windows close, some potentials never get realized. Their experiences shape them and direct them. Before you know it, you have a slightly dysfunctional pre-adult. My aunt Katrina says it happened to me too. One day I was a baby and the next I was a terrible teenage shit who they lost for about 6 years until I came out of it.

But yeah, kids. I just wanna take a crack at raising one or two. Raise them to be little teenie pagans with big hearts, like me. It doesn't help working at a job where I see itty bitty babies regularly, and little shit kids. Why some skanks can have kids and I can't is beyond me. And wouldn't my spawn just be the most hilarious thing!? The world needs my minions! This may be a matter of national security. And Brad is going to be the best dad EVER... oh, I'm crying just thinking about what a damn good father he would be!

And if someone would have told me years ago that I couldn't have kids... would have had a lot more fun, I tell you that right now. Would have saved me some serious worry. It's probably a good thing I didn't know... Ah, screw today. I'm going to bed. Again. For the second time. Sleep is nice.

-other, -other, -other

I guess the Moon is dancing around in Capricorn or SOME kind of weird shit like that is going on cosmically cause weird shit happened yesterday.

First, the pocket of infection in my face finally exploded! TMI! Ah, but it was so satisfying. I'm surprised I didn't wake Brad up cause I yelled, "HOLY SHIT!" The explosion wasn't YouTube worthy or anything, but it was still something that just SHOULDN'T have to happen! Ugh! It is certainly going to leave a nasty scar on my cheek, but I just HAD to find out if it was indeed some kind of cyst or like a nest of spider eggs or maybe the answer to world peace or the cure for cancer. It had to be done. Brad wants me to man up and finally go to a dermatologist. I just hate going! All I have are memories of going and being berated for picking at my skin, or worse, a reaction from the doctor along the lines of, "Oh wow, this is really bad, never seen anything like this." Cause that totally happened to me last time I went. Amatuers.

And in other weird news, and this is really weird... well, some back information may be helpful. I'm a bastard. That's the short version. I'm pretty proud of it, it's kind of my own personal N word. I own that word, dammit. I've got my siblings, ie: brother and sisters from another father, type deal. And I have an older brother from another mother and we've stayed in contact over the years after the discovery. And I've known about the presence of another brother from another mother (other other other), but never made any contact with him. Cause you never know if the realization of such relationships is gonna ruin a family dynamic or something. Like I didn't confront my first brother until I knew for a certainty that he was aware that his step dad wasn't his biological dad. I'm not in the business of ruining happy family facades.

And reaching out to this other brother (who is younger than me), has a huge caveat, it brings me dangerously close to the father I have never met, as he was claimed by said father in ways me and the older brother weren't. And I don't know if I want that yet. The whole thing is a mystery to me, and that is frustrating, because I know there are people in this town who know more about events surrounding my existence than I do. And I'm pretty sure my family has no desire for me to be curious about this, particularly my grandparents. But I'm an adult now, I call the shots. And it's perfectly natural for me to be curious. It's weird not knowing half of where you came from. Even if the dude was essentially a sperm donor and nothing more. You just want to get a look at them. Search for the resemblance. Explain shit. Although I've always doubted there would be a huge resemblance, because I am practically a carbon copy of my mother. Seriously, it's creepy.

So I finally decided to just do it, and months ago I sent a little message to little brother, it was innocent enough, something along the lines of 'are you so and so's son?' Never heard back. Didn't know what that might mean, and I over anaylze everything, so all kinds of stories rolled around in my head. And yesterday, a day like any other, he writes back. One thing leads to another and now I know my brother. Life is crazy. And for the first time in my life, I get to see what my dad looks like. And my other grandma. It's like finding pieces to a puzzle that's been nagging at you for 28 years. I've never known much about the man, but now I know he's a ginger. LOL A damned freckled ginger. And he's Irish, so now I'm like SUPER IRISH! Which is awesome to know. And little brother didn't know he had blood siblings, it never occurred to me that he would be excited to hear it. Pretty cool. So that's my story for November 30th, 2011.

Time management crisis.

It seems I am going to have to have a sit down (when I'm not exhausted) to re-evaluate my fitness goals. I've worked only two days, I had forgotten how hard it is to accomplish anything in addition to going to work. Brad woke me at a heart-wrenching 8 a.m. to first watch American Horror Story, then prepare a roast in the crock pot then actually get ready for work. I don't think I've done that much shit before 10 a.m. in a long time. I know, that's pretty sad.

But with work comes some dilemmas. I'm down with breakfast, it's very routine now. Every damn day I eat a breakfast serving of oatmeal, 2 tsp. of splenda brown sugar, and frozen blueberries. Yum. I look forward to it now. Then there's lunch, which with work occurs 2-3. First day, I ate with co-workers, we went to Long John's (god help me). Today I called Grandma and asked if she'd feed me, had chili. I need to start packing a healthy lunch, evidentally. This could go downhill really fast. And it would give me the extra needed time to call the 40+ customers to confirm their appointments for the following day if I just ate my lunch at the desk that is like a closet within a closet.

By the time I get home I am STARVING! Had our delicious (tho more bland than I'm used to) roast, then was like... must have more... Melba snack crackers and hummus. I'm still starving. My body is being deprived of it's occassional daily naps (yes, plural, napS). Need to plan this out better.

And, a friend of a friend of mine (so I really don't know who this guy is) has also started a weight loss blog: imgoingtoloseweightifitkillsme.blogspot.com. His name is Keith, go be encouraging or inspired, whatever you need. I am seriously considering the purchase of a training program through www.workoutbox.com, as he is doing. Apparently this site and it's product is legit. I don't want to waste time explaining it, if you are curious, go to the website.

But as of right now, I don't know WHEN my first day off will be. That's right, I have a "part-time temporary" job, and I have no idea when I get even one day off. Hahahaha. But it is very laid back and I've enjoyed it so far. I was told for a certainty to kiss my weekends goodbye until after Christmas. Brad has been so whiney! I'm like, what, you miss me sitting on my ass all day while you work? I guess he does... that's so sweet. I loves him.

I'm gonna go read stuff now. Have a lovely night.

Bodily explosions!

Turns out the episode of food poisoning and excessive bloatedness I experienced while in Gatlinburg in October was actually me rupturing an ovarian cyst. Oh, lawdy, life is hilarious! Here I had blamed the Mexicans who had prepared my dinner. Good news is, there doesn't seem to be any more lurking around, that could be noticed with a simple physical exam anyway. I had discomfort for about a month after it happened, which you would expect when something explodes in your body and has no where to go... no wonder I couldn't suck my gut in that night! Oh, the pain the next day was HORRIBLE! My heart goes out to all the ladies I've ever met who have polycystic ovarian disorder, that is NO way to live, man. It was funny, the doc asked if I'd had any episodes of pain and vomiting and bloatedness, and I thought wha... no... ohhhh... yeah. Brad was like, holy shit, should I have taken you to the hospital?! Haha, nah. Just one of those curses we women put up with from time to time.

He said if by May we still haven't had any luck, that Brad will have to get his special baby juice tested, cause it is the cheapest test they can do, so they start there. And while I hope we don't have to get to that point, it is quite hilarious to think of Brad having to go "make a desposit" at the doctor! This man can't even go into Rite Aid and buy condoms! I'm not kidding, HE WON'T DO IT! I will greatly enjoy his discomfort... mwahaha.

Oh and the scales at the doctor's office? Screw THAT! Talk about wanting to throw a 3-D model of a uterus through a damn wall.

Enjoy a sneak peak at my peacock Christmas tree that is currently a pile of peacock vomit on my kitchen counter.

Oh, and did you catch that last comment on my previous blog!? 199.5, kids! Ignoring completely the doctor scales today. Blatantly ignoring.

Dogs, jobs, and babies.

Sounds like a new program on TLC.

Whew, today has been an eventful day... when viewed from a certain perspective...

Was hanging out on the porch and this dog kept whining at the steps. I thought it was Gizmo, cause I couldn't see it very well. Turns out it was a dog from up the road named Andy. And another dog, who wouldn't sit still long enough for me to see his collar, whom I called Chocolate Face. So after finding out they belong just 3 houses down (which in Willard is a variable distance, to be sure) I walked them home. Silly dogs.

Then two hours later I'm outside again and I can hear Pat's dog Belle going crazy after something and it was a little puppy! So I brought him in for safe-keeping and we spent a good hour watching tv with him curled up around my head. I figured he belonged to the same place, just being a puppy he didn't have tags yet. Was gonna call until they called me asking about the little fella, whose name is Woody. So I drove him home too.

Besides that I've done NOTHING today.

And despite thinking this blog would help me feel accountable to weight loss efforts, And despite making it publicly known I'm going to start exercising, I still haven't done it.

**Holy shit, the wind just blew down a tree across the field. Willard and all its wonders never cease**

And Brad's been playing the hell out of Skyrim (a video game) so I've been playing the hell out of World of Warcraft. I know, it's not something a 28 year old should talk about. In my defense, I do not consider other players my second family, as I haven't played the game with another living person.

So I guess I have a job. Olan Mills finally called me back. I had mixed feelings about it as I had spent a good 48 hours convincing myself I didn't want the job anyway. Sat and thought of all the reasons I could probably hate the job, I guess as a defense mechanism in case of rejection. So when they called I felt pretty conflicted. At the same time, it's part-time and seasonal, not a huge commitment, and it will force me to go outside my hermit zone, so I accepted. Afterwards went out to see a movie and in the middle of it I would suddenly think, "OMG I have a job, how horrible... no, no... focus on the movie. You are at a movie right now." Shit, this is going to put me back in therapy. Guess I better crack out some Eckhart Tolle books now, to get ahead of the game.

I don't assume to understand myself at all. Don't waste your time trying.

Starts Wednesday. Have a doctors appointment tomorrow to check on the baby oven, making sure it's not rotting from the inside out or anything. Been having some troubling discomfort around the ovary area, for about 2 months, of course as soon as I scheduled an appointment it magically disappeared. Kinda like having Brad look at my computer when its being an ass, but it works like a dream for him. But in good baby news, I'm gonna have a new Walker neice or nephew soon! The cuteness of the world is going to increase exponentially. I guess if I can't have Heath Walker's babies, at least I can be their aunt. Hahar.

And that is what is going on. Erica still weighs around 202. Brad keeps getting dangerously close to 250. Just truckin' along. Bo-ring.

Festivus for the Rest of Us!

Here's the obligatory post of the week.

Weight loss? What the hell ever. Still hovering around 202. Good times.

Brad is also hovering right above 250. Can't seem... to break... through...!

But in other news, I have an interview today, and it's pretty promising if I do say so myself, and I do. It's for a part-time, temporary seasonal job, so I won't even have to QUIT! Bazinga! Some people may be thinking, Oh, good for Erica, and then when I say it's to work at Olan Mills in K-Mart, you're going to say, Oh, how very tragic. Well, to thee, naysayers, I say, get away from me with your negativity! I'll have none of it! I perform my best when I don't have to hear all that shit so shut up. I am Erica. I'm flighty. I'm whimsical. I do what I want.

And this couldn't have come at a better time, because with the coming of Winter, I get pretty depressed, and need something to do very badly, something to counteract the constant feeling that I should be hibernating. Wake me up in Spring, people.

I'm not looking forward to the holidays (the Christmas decor out at the same time as Halloween really pissed me off) and mainly because I don't know what to expect this year. Half my family is in China, for pete's sake. Where's the fun in Christmas when some child isn't crying because they think they got less presents than another child? I guess that is what Dad is for, he always counts his presents and makes a big deal out of getting less than someone else... LOL. He is an eternal child, my role model, really. If anyone wants an explanation of how weird and playful and silly I am, look to that man. He makes no sense.

And I very much enjoy playing with the kids' toys. One year I opened Emily's Polly Pocket mansion before Christmas and played with it for hours before I finally wrapped it. I was probably 18. HAHA.

And usually every year I go overboard with Christmas decorations, because I find the festive lights very soothing. As a child, I would sleep by the Christmas tree for weeks before Christmas. I would line up the presents all over the house, categorizing them from biggest to smallest, by person, by wrapping paper. I would make all my dolls super pretty and set them up around the tree. I could wrap a mean package, dude. I should have been an elf. THE BEST WAY TO SPREAD CHRISTMAS CHEER IS TO SING LOUD FOR ALL TO HEAR! I would play Alvin and the Chipmunks NON-STOP and jump on the couches for hours singing at the top of my lungs. I never wanted to sleep. I was on some kind of child crack.

The more stuff I put up for Christmas, though, the more exasperated Brad gets cause he knows it's going to be a damn battle to get me to take them down. I want to live like the Finch's in Running with Scissors and just leave the shit up all year. And every year it seems I want to change our tree decor. Every year I justify getting new decor to Brad by saying, "Well, we will get this, and I'll just use it for years to come" then next year I want something different. I have two go-to's, the home style eclectic display of ornaments, many handmade, that I've compiled from my grandma and Jilda. Last year I added large old fashion colored Christmas lights that reminded me so strongly of my Mamaw Keffer's Christmas tree I sat there and cried just looking at it. I have the matchy-matchy set from my mom that I use occasionally. This year, I would like to go whimsical, almost dr. seussy, with crazy shit that makes the tree look like it's exploded in a fit of homosexuality. In peacock colors.

But enough about Christmas! I need to go mentally prepare myself to be awesome for this interview. Which means, all I need to do is shower, because I'm already awesome.