Two Of Us

One of my favorite songs in the whole wide world is a Beatles song called "Two of Us". I love this song for many reasons. One reason being that it describes two people on their way back home from mindless excursions. Case in point, yesterday. After the Blizzard of 2009 rendered us senseless from cabin fever, Kami and I decided to meet in Columbia Heights. We knew 14th st would be plowed and it surely was!! After a C+ lunch, we decided to walk to her house to her car and go to Silver Spring because we figured that 16th and Georgia Av would be a go (and they both were), but the walk from Target to her house was quite interesting and eventful. We scaled bridges, skated, spoke with our neighbors and sang Christmas carols. Hmmmm. My feet get cold, wet and tingly just thinking about it.

I have been blessed this year to have so many "Two of Us" like moments with friends and family. Many moments where I have felt very happy to be exactly where I am right now and nowhere else. I even had a moment like that the day of the car accident. I know how I am--I am me, and that's not always clear cut. I won't apologize for that. I refuse to apologize for being myself. If you don't like it, don't deal with it. However, I just hope that all of my close friends know that I love them and will continue to do so in the new year.

Anxiously awaiting my family's arrival--

Stacey

Manic Monday...a little bit!

Clearly, I had it wrong when I thought that my myomectomy in May was the "ordeal". Last Monday, November 2, 2009, I found myself restless in bed. I decided to get up and drive some of my frustration out. It was early, maybe 630 am or so, but I drove over to the Virginia side and decided to watch the sun come up. I was heading back to the apartment to lay down and was making a left turn onto 12th St NW from New York Ave NW. I was partially through the intersection when I saw the Expedition coming towards me.

I felt the impact of the hit and the car turned over and spun around. So many things were going through my mind at this point, but mostly, "This is it! I'm going to to die!" So when the car finally stopped rolling and sliding and I was not dead, I screamed! The car was sitting on its side, and I was still strapped in but thrown all the way to the passenger side. A group of people were talking to me and I was answering their questions, but mostly, I just wanted to get out of there!!! My neck and head were growing at a exponential rate, and I was shaking. Still haven't stopped shaking yet.

I reached for my phone (of course, I'm me) and did the worst thing I possible could: I called my mom. I'm sure she was on her way to work or at work, and I worked her all the way up. Then I called my friend Ebony and woke her out of her sleep.

I was still shaking and dripping (a bottle of water had exploded during all of the turning and throwing), and I kept calling my mother and apologizing and sobbing. They attempted to tip the car back over but quit that when they saw how much glass there was, too unsafe. They were able to hand me a cover after cutting part of the roof off and I covered myself as they began to cut me out. Every moment was excruciating, but they were done and one of the firemen was able to put the cervical collar on me and remove me from the car. He helped the paramedics tape me to the board and put me in the ambulance. I had been doing well up to then, but when they taped me to the board and put me in the ambulance, I still couldn't believe all that had happened. One of my friends called and I gave out an assignment to reach Ebony and have her come to the hospital. I was mostly unnerved and scared. I kept seeing flashes of the accident when I closed my eyes. Then the paramedics started working my nerves.

They started an IV in my right antecubital, whatever. Lactated Ringers, and some saline flushes, okay. Well, then they attempted to put an oxygen mask on me. I don't do masks. They make me feel like someone's trying to suffocate me. I held it in my hand and I was like, "Um, hi. No. I don't like masks. Can I have a cannula (preferably pediatric)?" They gave me the cannula and must have turned the flow up to 10LPM. This was more annoying than helpful. I felt like Bruce Banner, about to turn green. I had been crying and my nose was running and the oxygen was burning! I slid my finger underneath it and let the flow blow into my eyes. I began my journey as the 'difficult nurse-patient'. My blood pressure was only 102/66.

Got to GW and back into the trauma area. Lots of orientation questions and cranial nerves to test. Gripping hands, pushing toes downward and 'wiggle for me'. Look up, look down, look to your left, to your right. Your pupils are reactive to light. My pupils are about to be unresponsive to light and accomodation, cause I'm about to be done cooperating for you people. Went to CT, had a portable chest. They wanted a urinalysis. I was like, I hope you don't think you'll be using a catheter for that. Instead, there was a performance for the former quasi-thespian: peeing on a bedpan in front of the nurses. I laid there for a long time. So, could we try reverse trendelenberg's please?! Gravity could only help....

The CT and Chest X-Ray were okay. My abdomen was negative for blood. 800 mg of Ibuprofen and I was out of there. Clearly someone forgot to give me Ambien because everytime I closed my eyes, I could see that Expedition coming towards me and the car flipping. Everytime.

I had to wonder why God chose to keep me here. Clearly my goals on Earth haven't been met and he isn't ready for me yet. It's funny how thirty seconds can change your life. I can't say that I'll ever look at life the same again. I don't know if that's good or bad, but it's what I'm left with.

Is Altruism dead?

I am beginning to think altruism is dead.  I cannot remember the last time I saw someone do something for someone else that was totally outside of their self. When asked, most people stop and think long and hard on whether what you need is an inconvenience or a demand. No one gives of themselves freely without expecting anything in return.  What is amiss with human nature? Have we been mutated and watered down into another species, a subhuman group with human tendencies?  You are hard-pressed these days to find someone who gives a damn about someone other than him or herself.  Everyone wants to know, "What have you done for me lately?" And not only that, "what will you do for me after I have done for you?" Everyone keeps running tabs in their heads of the last good or bad thing you've done for them.  I'm not perfect either, I have my moments of selfishness.  But there is a wonderful rush you can get from doing something for someone else and expecting nothing in return.  There isn't anything that matches that feeling.  Except for maybe telling someone you can't do something for them when you know damn well that you can.  

Speechless

There are few things that can render me speechless.  However, at 5:56 pm that very thing happened.  I was driving down 13th St NW, passing Alero and my friend Marla intercepted my call.  She said, "Michael Jackson is gone."  I said, "what do you mean gone?" She said, "Like my dad is gone." And I said, "Oh Marla, no.  You can't be serious!!" It took a good ten seconds for it to sink in.  Meanwhile, I got totally disoriented and couldn't remember where I was supposed to be going! I drove around Logan Circle one and a half times before I remembered where I was supposed to be going.

I had been driving down North Capitol Street earlier that day when they announced Farrah Fawcett had passed away.  I prayed for peace for her and comfort in her long struggle with cancer.  I had watched a couple of photo montages of her on CNN and thought about how beautiful she was and I hoped that her energy was renewed into something half as touching as she was here on earth. 

I took a long deep breath and turned on the radio.  The Associated Press hadn't confirmed his death when I tuned in, but the radio stations were sending their regards out by playing his music.  Daddy called me and I had no words.  Finally, the LA Times confirmed, and CNN did the same.  Michael Jackson, dead at 50. They played any MJ they could get their hands on.  "Enjoy Yourself" was blaring through the speakers.  I would blast MJ often, lots of times after getting my hair done, when I was really feeling myself.  In my undergraduate years "ABC" was the only song I played before important tests.  MJ was never out of my rotation.  

I was doing well listening to the music until they played, "Got to Be There", which is my favorite MJ song.  I held it together until the last verse when I realized that the timber of his voice was so remarkable, even at that young age.  There aren't words for how I feel about music.  But I can tell you that at times it touches my very core; it speaks to me at the most basic level, transcending words even.  This time was no different.  I didn't want to go home and turn on the TV.  That would really make it real.  And it did. Each time I tried to wrap my mind around it, they'd play a clip that stunned me.  And videos came out of the woodworks: "Leave Me Alone", "Smooth Criminal", "In the Closet".  I was stuck fast to the screen.  Couldn't get anything done and I was leaving for St. Louis the next day! Didn't even start browning the mushrooms and onions for spaghetti until 10 pm.  *Shaking my head*

Motown 25.  My parents had the Beatles on Ed Sullivan, we had Motown 25 and the Moonwalk. Our lives were forever changed.  ICONIC.  What's sad is that now he has achieved true iconic status.  He was a prodigy that the world watched climb to heights unmatched.  And an eccentric that the same world was quick to ridicule and shame.  It's not my place to speculate or judge what happened in his time within my reality.  My hope is that his lifeforce has transcended what we know as life and that he can finally be free to achieve peace.

I am joined with my peers at mourning the loss of a critical piece of my childhood. There simply isn't another pop culture icon that I can use to chronicle my childhood the way I can with MJ.  On old tapes my mother has of us talking, we're singing, "I Can't Help it", and "P.Y.T".  "Thriller" and "E.T: the Extra Terrestrial" were crucial moments in my life. My Dad kept "Off the Wall" heavy in rotation until "Thriller" and it seems as though most of my early music memories are of MJ, Stevie, Marvin, the Temptations and Earth Wind and Fire.  I'm sad that MJ has left us, but we are all the better for having him here while we did.

The Ordeal

As usual, I wrote out an apology for not posting consistently, and then I continued to not post consistently. At least I'm consistently inconsistent, right?

Lately, my mind has been occupied with several recurring themes.

The one that I'm going to discuss today is that of the fibroid. Fibroid tumors are benign fibrous tumors that can grow inside the uterus, in the uterine wall or on top of the uterus. I was diagnosed with one in 2005. My doctor at the time said we would do some 'watchful waiting' and see what would happen next. Most of the time, no intervention has to be made, women go on and have children and as they experience menopause the tumors shrink on their own. Well, in my case, the tumor was pretty large in a small amount of time. I consulted with a Fibroid Specialist (who knew they existed? I didn't) at George Washington University and after a battery of tests, it was determined that the best approach for this tumor would be a laparoscopic myomectomy with a mini-laparotomy. Laparoscope means tiny incisions and a camera helps guide the tumors out. Laparotomy on the other hand, involves cutting.

Being a nurse and knowing what I know, I was apprehensive about cuttting. Would I have to have c-section deliveries? Scar tissue? Down time? My doctor seems to be at the forefront of what's new and current for fibroid treatment so I scheduled my procedure for May 18, 2009. And any health care professional will tell you how hard it is to relinquish your medical knowledge and your false sense of control and let someone help you, even if it is for your own good. This tumor ended up being so large that a laparoscope was not an option but they were able to get it all through the mini-lap.  

The week before I worked three 12 hour shifts, darting around my pre-operative appointments. Everyone was friendly and answered all of my questions. But anyone that knows me well knows that I was just as anxious anyway, like a lapdog. Getting stuck for pre-op labs and actually sitting down and discussing how the fibroid would be removed--yikes! After every appointment I would sulk around and worry. To add injury to injury, my father had been having neck and back pain and we found out on May 15 that he would be undergoing surgery on Monday the 18th as well! My poor Mom was stuck in the middle, having already bought a ticket to come be with me the 19th through the 21st. Ultimately, she decided to come out and be with me. I know I'm selfish brat, but I was happy that she did. I was worried about me and my Dad and my good friend Ebony, all of us undergoing surgery on that day! Too much to handle. Too much time to think, "what if.."

I went grocery shopping with Ebony on Sunday for things for my mom to make and started the "prep" at 5pm. I mixed the Magnesium Citrate 1:1 with Sprite. It was still disgusting and I cannot forsee a time when I'll be able to stomach Sprite again. Sleep came over me and didn't stay long. I woke up and showered and drove me and my husband to GWU Hospital in Foggy Bottom. We went up to the Surgical Services, where we began our wait. I was scheduled for three hours in the OR at 2pm, but I was still watching CNN at that point. I went back at 230 and sat for another hour before they started my IV and Dr. Robinson came back and peeked at me and told me he had another case ahead of me! I hadn't eaten in 24+ hours!! I was losing my mind. I took a nap for about an hour and a half. When I woke up, game was on! The anesthesiologist came by to introduce himself and check my allergy information. Dr. Robinson came by and introduced me to the other doctors that would be working with him. The anesthesiologist came back and gave me some Versed, which I highly recommend if you have the means because it's not called midazolam for nothing.  It is a dazzling experience. The last thought I had was, "why are all of these men going to be looking at my female parts?". I don't even remember counting backwards....

When I woke up in the PACU, it was clear to me that someone had taken my Highlander and run my middle over with it--seriously. That and my throat was very irritated from the intubation. The staff asked me to move over to the transport bed to be taken upstairs and I said I wasn't doing anything until I had some morphine and ice. So they gave Richard the ice and that was the best ice I ever had! My throat was so uncomfortable. The morphine wasn't half bad either. But about two minutes after the nurse had given it slow IV push, I laid there thinking, "Am I breathing? Is my chest moving air? Oh well, I think I'm breathing." They sent me upstairs to the third floor where I was just in time for the White Rabbits on David Letterman. I drifted in and out of sleep/consciousness while Ben Stiller was on. Richard nudged me so I could see the boys but I went right back to sleep afterwards. 

I had a great nurse, a new grad, and even though she knew I was a nurse she said I wasn't too bossy, which was surprising. I was in too much pain to put up much a fight. She gave me Apple Juice, and that was like Apple pie at that point, 36+ hours without food. The night was a blur of pain, morphine and attempting to stand up on my own. It's more than amazing how much you use your abdominal muscles, whether you are in shape or not! The first time I coughed, I almost passed out from crying and crying was painful enough. In the morning, the men came to check on me. The chief resident got too much pleasure ripping that sticky dressing off! Insert my "look" there. You know the one.

I got to eat breakfast (nothing fancy) and then my Momma came :) With her help, I got up and sat in each chair in the room. I got my IV discontinued and got dressed and was home by 230, 24 hours after going back for pre-op.

Being the rockstar that she is, Momma came in and started cleaning. Having the pain I was having, I came in and took a nap. Ebony and her mom came by to see us. Me and Momma called it a night early after I realized that the chief resident hadn't signed my percocet prescription. I stood up until I got those bad boys and not a half an hour later, I was ready for bed. I was feeling better in the morning, but my biggest problem was getting from a laying-down position to an upright position. PAIN. How could I go have half a c-section, with no baby and just as much pain. I was totally outdone. Going to the bathroom unassisted and taking a shower were huge accomplishments. I began to look like Linus because I couldn't go anywhere without my pillow to shunt my lower stomach.  It's remarkable how renewing a shower can be.  I felt new and even put lotion on. 

On the good side, I woke up and checked my Blackberry Tuesday morning to which I read and listened to many nice messages. With each status change on Facebook, I received encouraging messages from friends.  Jamie texted me right before the White Rabbits took the stage at Letterman and texted to see how everything went afterwards. Jonathan was concerned for my nutrition, wondering when I was going to get to eat (as usual). My parents and friends all left messages for me. I was relieved to be able to talk to my Dad that night.  I was well past tears by then. I felt loved. Tuesday was the worst; just looking at me hurt me to tears. The pain was raw and relentless. Truly, the abdomen is not a good place to get cut! Wednesday was slightly better. My mom cooked all day. Three meatloaves, two pans of real macaroni and cheese, two sweet-potato pies....beautiful. Food appeared appetizing but the gas that followed after anything was ingested was unbearable! The only thing that moved the gas was walking, so I did as much as I could. The mornings while my mom was here, we'd have tea and talk. I really wanted to go to the airport to drop her off, but was fairly certain that a car ride across the bumpy 14th Street bridge would put me over the edge.  So instead, I laid in the bed and cried after my mom left.  Somehow that feeling of being left behind never escapes me when I'm with her. 

After my walk on Thursday, I got a delivery of flowers from my #2 family, the Levinsons.  I came in and traded abdominal wound stories with Mom #2.  Jamie even called me of his own free will (which never ceases to surprise me because it happens sooo rarely).  My brothers were very attentive.  Prior to my procedure I had discussed with Raquel whether I should get my hair done before or after, we decided on after. So, on Friday I got up, had a shower and went to get my 'do done. When I got to the shop, I made my cup of coffee. Raquel came up behind me and said, "NO you didn't! Come in here wearing a do-rag!" I had to laugh and grab the pillow tight. Then she gasped when I took the scarf off my head!! I laughed it off. I showed her the steri-strips.  She couldn't believe that I was already out but by the looks of my head... She was very gentle with me and I looked wonderful afterwards.

Everyday I feel a little bit better, but I still have a ways to go. Thursday, I woke up in pain.  One minute you're fine sleeping, the next there are tears in your eyes and you're scrambling around for whatever you can take to stop the pain.  It's unlike any other pain I've ever had.  Pain from the inside out.  I sneezed for the first time and screamed...deafening Jonathan in the process. Because the tumor was fairly sized, people ask me if I notice a change.  I'm still in too much pain to notice a change.  There may be a change in my abdomen but the three-inch souvenir takes my mind away from it. Maybe by July or August I'll be able to tell.  I just know that the surgery exceeded my expectations of pain, perception and my strength.  But slowly, I'm working my way back.  Look out world.

High School Redux?

What would you do if you woke up at 6 am, turned off your alarm and saw your favorite plaid Eddie Bauer shirt on the floor next to your American Eagle overalls and your Gap Dream? What would you do if you woke up and found yourself slobbering on a desk in Mr. Muth's classroom? What would you do if you found yourself back at 100 Selma Av???

Do you feel that once you left high school, you left it and its antics or do you find similarities of yourself circa September 1992 - May 1996?  Please don't shudder in preparation of overwhelming self-analysis!  Go into the light! 

I think, on some small level, I've always known how subjective my life was, as well as my interests.  I wasn't the most beautiful, intelligent or popular, but I got around.  I met lots of unique people and forged a bond with my classmates. I love my classmates! I am all about '96. Outsiders (non-Statesmen), think that Webster is like Pleasantville and I can see the similarities on the surface, but you have to dig deeper than that.  Most of the time what the Outsiders don't realize is that while we had the best years we could, we learned at the tail end of our senior year just what was important.  Sometimes when bad things happen, people straighten up and do better for a little while at loving each other.  I felt like we made a point to do that for the rest of our lives.  Still do.  

I think it's funny how some people hate high school.  I wouldn't say that I hated it, but I definitely wouldn't want to go back.  On occasion, I would worry if I had the right clothes, the right hair, the right shoes (you can never have too many shoes, ever), why didn't more guys want to date me--more importantly, why didn't I want to date them?  Did I hang out with the right people? That last question renders a definite no.  Some people I went to high school with were so cool that I slept on them and didn't become friends with them until I graduated (insert Annie B and some other stellar 96ers).  But in high school, especially my third and fourth years, I slowly came to the realization that it didn't matter if I had the fashion or the fame of high school.  I would still be myself without it. That part of me hasn't changed since then.  If anything, it's gotten worse.  

I did enjoy high school, but it paled in comparison to college--the great white way. I did branch out and meet even more wonderfully diverse people.  But after 2.5 years at the University of Missouri, I transferred home and finished my Nursing Degrees (I have two) at Jewish College of Nursing at Washington University Med.  I spent most of the first semester depressed and missing my friends from Missouri.  But once I lifted the fog, I made some friends that I still have to this day.  Nursing School was never about popularity.  It was about who was the smartest.  Who tried to kill their patients....that kind of thing. It was about watching "Passions" on NBC after class, or taking a nap on the roof, amidst Children's helicopter flying this close to us, or finally learning how to sleep in class with your eyes open.

While I see some changes in myself, I still feel that deep down I'm still just Stacey.  Queen of all things ordinary and mundane. I'm still the same Stacey that believed that all that she learned up to May 24, 1996 (April 29, 1996; who are we kidding?) would lay the foundation for what she'd need to make it to the next place in her life.  The same Stacey that says she'll do one thing and then turns around and does the opposite.  More importantly, the same Stacey that's nice only when she has to be.  

I'm sorry!!!

I am so sorry I haven't been consistent with the blogging.  I have been consistently writing, but I have been inconsistently posting.  It seems that my tendency to overanalyze has poured over into my self-expression.  I have written lots of posts, saved them, came back to them and deleted them after analyzing them down to each subject and predicate.  

The ever-prolific Annie B posed a great question in her status, "Where are all the good men dead: in the heart or in the head?" I love 'Grosse Pointe Blank'!!  Sometimes this questions slips into the darker recesses of my head and lays dormant there until someone brings it back to light!  

I loved my Philosophy classes in undergrad.  So, my natural inclination is to ask if a man is dead in the heart or the head, is he a good man? I would go with no.  I would think that to be dead in the heart (making one heartless), would not render a good man.  And to be dead in the head (having no thought) definitely wouldn't yield a good man.  I can honestly say that the best men are neither dead in heart or head.  Occasionally, a tad off kilter in one aspect or the other, but never totally lacking in one or the other.  And most men are actually adept at letting heart or head compensate for what they lack.  At least the cognitively capable ones are.  Why would you engage a man that's anything less?

Don't Stand So Close To Me

I love people.  I love watching people and studying their behavior.  Most people have no idea how entertaining they are, their mannerisms, their idiosyncrasies...those little things that make them unique.  However--I am not always so eager to let others break my fourth wall!  I know I'm a hypocrite.  That's just the way I am, love me.  

Have you ever noticed someone everyday or often?  Someone you see in passing on the street, at church, or at the grocery store.  How weird is it when you actually meet that person and they become someone you know?  You lose your anonymity.  That's okay in some cases, but I prefer to evaluate things on a daily basis.  Sometimes I want to know you, other times I don't.  I already know I'm hard to get along with.  I just hope you know it too, *winking*.  Am I worth the trouble? Hardly.  Just kidding.  I just like to have space.  Once we lose our anonymity and you learn how to spell my name correctly, I'm a great person to have around.  Just don't stand too close to me.  Don't ask me too many questions, and don't ask for hugs.  I know I ask for a lot, but I give tenfold.  If you really want to hug me, I'll evaluate it on a need-be basis.  

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy

I was shocked towards the end of September 2007 when Jamie called me.  Jamie never calls me, never answers my calls--that's a whole other blog--but when Jamie called, I answered the phone hastily, expecting the worse.  He was very cheerful and lighthearted which made me even more suspicious.  "Well," he says, drawing out the process of communication even more, "Anna is expecting!"  I was floored! Sophia hadn't turned one yet!  "Sophia's going to be dethroned already?!" I was shaking my head in disbelief.  And yelling at the top of my lungs.  

Jordan and Anna were due to find out whether they were having a boy or a girl the day before Thanksgiving.  Jamie already knew he was going to be this baby's godfather and he was pulling for a boy.  The day before Thanksgiving, I was at school with my mom and I got a call from Jamie.  He was a man of few words, "I'm going to be a godfather."  With that, I knew it was a boy!  Jordan called not 30 minutes later and I said, "I already know it's a boy!" "Did Jamie tell you?" "Well..he didn't but I could tell by what he didn't say.  It doesn't matter, I'm so happy for you!!"  "Joseph William Levinson will be making his appearance in April."

Yeah right! Ha! That's what you all sad sports thought.  Joe made a point to prove us wrong.  After venturing to New York to see the White Rabbits, I got a call from Jordan saying that Anna's water had broken--she was 33 weeks that day.  After trying tocolytics, Jordan called again saying that they were going to let Anna labor through.  We had a long NICU chat and I let him know that the determining factor of what happened to Joe was what happened when he was born.  How much respiratory support would he need?  After I scared him half to death with the possibilities of laryngoscopes and ET tubes, Joe came out perfectly pink, weighing 5 lbs 6 oz.  Oh Joe! Say it ain't so!!

Joseph was born on a Saturday and I had to work that night.  When I came home, I called to check on Joe and Anna and Jordan said he needed to talk to me.  I cringed as my stomach flipped over.  "We would like you to be Joe's godmother, " and I screamed! Anna laughed and said she could hear me through the phone.  Through temporary elation I forgot that Jamie was the godfather.  Thus began the war on Joe and trying to win his affections!  I came home for Easter and met him for the first time, just a peanut. 

Today you are one year old! Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy.

Stop! The Words You Say May Hurt Someone

Darling take it slow, or someday you'll be all alone! Sing, Michael! I couldn't get that song out of my head as I thought about the title.  Anyway...everyday I find something more remarkable about people and how they relate to each other.  When someone speaks to you, how much do you filter out?  What stays with you, what gets left behind, and what goes in one ear and out the other? Are the words people say further complicated by the nonverbal cues that go along with what's being said?

It's no secret that I'm not the easiest person to get along with *chuckling*.  Sometimes I will stop at nothing to annoy, confuse and disgruntle whomever my victim is at the time.  While I am immature, I'm not without a conscience.  I feel guilt and remorse--just not often.  I'm sure it's all an ancient defense mechanism.  People fail to realize at times that their words hurt, or at least strike a nerve.  Words make you think, feel and react.  Words can make someone smile, cry, laugh or key your car.  Words can resound within you for days or flush fast through your system as quickly as the blood circulates through your body.  Words can start a friendship and build it over time, or end one in 30 seconds or less.  They can be the foundation of good things to come or bad things past.  Choose your words wisely.  Measure your intent carefully because once you say something, you can't take it back.  You can only hope that the person on the receiving end will allow you another chance to converse.  

Sleevegate and other Ramblings..

I've tried seven different times to construct a blog entry today.  It just isn't working for me.  Most likely, it's because I keep getting so annoyed with what's on my mind.  

I got on the Huffington Post today and read about 'Sleevegate'.  Sleevegate is the term used to describe the chaos Michelle Obama has caused in baring her arms in regards to her fashion choices.  I have to wonder why this is a controversy when I can name 10-20 people with no health insurance in less than 20 seconds and I can't even think about owning property in the District of Columbia as the median cost of a house is still sitting between  $475-600K.

Who is concerned with Michelle Obama's arms?  I'd like to know what exercises I can do to tone mine up a little bit.  Were they expecting her arms to look like flabby chicken wings?  When Jackie O ruled the roost at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave NW, sleeveless was the style.  And everyone integrated part of that style into their own; shift dresses, pillbox hats and pearls.  It would be nice to see everyone take some part of Michelle Obama's style and make it part of their own for the time being instead of hating on the woman's arms.  

I don't know why I'm surprised by 'Sleevegate'.  This was a concept of importance, just as 'The Bachelor' finale was last night, *cackling*.  Hmmm, where do I start with the overbronzed fete that is 'The Bachelor'? I'll probably come back to it later, but I'm starting to feel a bit offended.  Like I did when I saw, 'He's Just Not That Into You'.  I'm hoping that most saw that movie for what it was--a piece of fluff for girls to go see together.  But anyway, I'm starting to think that maybe the media doesn't think women can handle anything of actual importance.  Maybe we can only handle dating, fashion and reality romance.  

I'll be the first to admit that sometimes that's all I want to see.  But most often than not, I get glib and annoyed after partaking in it.  Sometimes I want to believe that my most difficult decision I will make that day will be what color nail polish I'll wear.  But I'm not usually allowed to operate that way.  I have a husband, a job, and a brain.  

The Curious Case of JLo's Ring-"Hello! Mama talkin'!!"

So where was JLo's ring?

"Hello! Mama talkin'!"  She must've been talking to Angelina Jolie, who looked as though she rolled up out of bed and put on a dress we've seen her wear before.  She looked like she didn't even comb her hair.  With the photogs streaming their stills, Angelina looked so cold and statuesque.  Oh well, I don't contribute to her paycheck.  God forbid she look happy, she does something she loves for a living and gets paid way too much to do so.

Kate Winslet hit the ground running, she was exquisite! She really has grown into herself and into a strikingly confident woman.  Her dress was classic and timeless.  Sting!  Was that really Sting or Joaquin Phoenix?  Eva Longoria Parker donned a stunning red dress by Reem Acra, however on the red carpet, she looked like camouflage.  I can assure you that she didn't appear that way on the telecast.  She looked like an Old Hollywood Glamazon.  Love Don Cheadle, always elegant and refined.  Sally Hawkins' dress was amazing, reminiscent of classic Vera Wang, enchanting.  At least the top of it was!  The bottom of the dress made it look like a sackcloth and it didn't help that Hawkins looked like an anorexic vampiress in the dress.  We decided that she should partake in a double steakburger and milkshake.  Why were the Jonas Brothers there? It was past their bedtime and it wasn't the Teen Choice Awards...jeez.  Jake Gyllenhaal is always ruggedly handsome.  Drew Barrymore's dress was breathtaking, but her hair was a ratty mess! She and Jessica Lange strolled onto the red carpet giggling and holding hands.  They looked as though they'd just spent detention smoking blunts.  Anyway..

Not a fan of Maggie Gyllenhaal anyway but she looked like leopard at an aquarium...did enjoy Laura Linney's chamois colored confection.  It had the right amount of ruching and draping, now if we could do something about the blush..yikes! Don't get me wrong, there is a fine line of too much and not enough blush, but someone's getting paid to walk that line.  Elizabeth Banks presented with Seth Rogen.  I loved her look but she had on too many accessories. Yes, it's possible to wear too many accessories at one time! I wonder if McDreamy's hair is as soft as it looks.  I would love to run my fingers through it, and I wonder if he smells as good as he looks.  Megan Fox' hair was so tight it made me cringe.  She is a beautiful woman even if she is engaged to David Silver from 90210.  Jennifer Lopez looked like she wanted her husband's hands off of her body!  Glenn Close looked like Queen Elizabeth II's frumpy younger sister and I am so mad at Tracy Morgan for being the face of 'Post-Racial America'-- it was funny but don't even get me started.  Kate Beckinsale looked like creme fraiche or meringue, light and airy but I didn't care for her severe hairstyle, it looked like an instant face lift.  Who doesn't love Martin Scorsese getting choked up giving his friend his award?  Sandra Bullock looked like a scoop of sweet vanilla bean ice cream.  She had luminous botticelli-esque waves and just enough color on her face to make her incandescent.  She is someone these young trollops can pay attention to to get it right on the red carpet.  Kate Winslet looked doubly radiant the second time around.  She was very deserving of her accolades.  

Thus begins my winter trifecta: Golden Globes, SAGs and the Oscars.  While my husband yells at the tv watching football, I grimace at Drew Barrymore's hair, Renee Zellweger's dress and Angelina in general.  I start with the Red Carpet and consult with my soulsisters on a need-be basis.  Goodnight, Fashion.

My Favorite Things

Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens? Not really my favorite things.  Fried apples and biscuits.  The entire two minutes and 51 seconds of 'My Cherie Amour' and each chord of Chopin's Prelude in E minor (Opus 28 No.4).  Shiny red toes from a fresh pedicure. Black knee high boots...ahh! Those are my favorite things.  I especially love holding babies and calming them.  Putting baby oil gel on my freshly shaved legs, wearing high heeled sandals in the summer. Calling someone I haven't talked to in a long time and hearing them say, "I was just thinking about you!"  The first bite of an apple (it's always the best, ask Ramona). There are so many things I love, I could never love just one person, place or thing.  

Have you ever watched "Inside the Actor's Studio"?  If you have, you've listened to countless celebrities answer this questionnaire.  I thought I would give it a whirl. Copy it down and answer the questions for your own personal growth.  

1. What turns you on?   A hug from behind from my husband.

2. What turns you off?  Feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated.

3. What is your favorite word?  Whatever.

4. What is your least favorite word? C%$#

5. What sound or noise do you love? When one of the little people says, "Hi Auntie Stacey".

6. What sound or noise do you hate?  Construction while I'm trying to sleep, or kids screaming.

7.What profession other than yours would you like to attempt? Makeup artist, Writer, photographer

8.  What profession other than yours would you not like to attempt? Doctor or Lawyer

9. What is your favorite curse word? Depends on my mood and the subtext, usually f#$%

10. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you reach the pearly gates?  "I'm so glad you're here, we have so much to talk about. But don't worry about it, I love you."

I always get lots of questionnaire emails.  I love doing them, answering the questions.  I love lists.  It's something I inherited from my Grandmother.  She loved to make lists and always had a grocery list handy, just in case we made a trip while we were out.  

I would always ask my mom what her favorites were and she always said she didn't have a favorite (fill-in-the-blank).  Mom did, however, sign one of her school pictures, 'to my favorite daughter'.  I was very happy to read that until I read it again on the picture she gave Sara.  When we confronted her about it she said we were both her favorite daughters.  Nice save.  

I love getting those messages, filling in my favorites and reading what favorites everyone else has.  Another one of my favorite lists is a list of desserts.  The different desserts describe the nuances of your personality.  I have been known to pick Chocolate on Chocolate or Strawberry Shortcake.  What does that say to you about my personality?

A new year....

I cannot believe that 2009 is upon us. For me, 2008 was the year of the wedding. I'm hoping that 2009 will be the year of the Graduation as well as the year of a passed Bar Exam. It's always so exciting to ring in a new year with all of its hope and promise.  I am excited to see what these next twelve months have in store for my family and friends.  I know that there are many peaks and valleys along the way, but I feel blessed that I have been able to witness this new year. 

Being here in DC right now, I am also anxious to see how the Inaugural Events unfold.  Along Pennsylvania Ave, the streets are lined with District of Columbia flags and USA flags. Bleachers are also set up, although I'm sure the "little people" such as myself won't be sitting on them.  I am very curious to see how history comes together here in the District in the coming weeks.  The bars are staying open until 5 am...yikes!  I am also extremely anxious to see how the visitors gel with the inhabitants.  Generally the East Coast attitude is a little chilly :), but there's something about Barack Obama that has everyone speaking, hugging, laughing and discussing these monumental occasions like we're all old friends.  

It was good to be home for the holidays.  All of the kids are getting to be so big, especially Eric, Kennedy and Robert (LaRon).  Eric is excited about being a big brother and I'm anxious to see how they interact. I'm sure he will do Auntie Stacey proud.  The only bad thing about going home for the holidays is the constant running around to see everyone.  As Richard said, "This is like a business trip!" I don't know when I'll be in St. Louis again.  Soon, I hope.  

All of the constant travel and two long car rides in less than two weeks have left me ill :(  The nurse is going to take care of herself.