Am I The Grinch?

OK, so all of my co-workers gave me Christmas gifts. Ornaments that don't match my tree, candy and a notebook, and a $25 gift card to Legal Sea Foods (holy cow!). One even said, "Next year, we should just all go out to lunch instead of these obligatory $5 gifts." I didn't get them anything... except for the two I work with most closely (which I blogged about last week). Am I jerk? Probably. But I barely bought my own family gifts this year. I guess I could've just done cards or something nice but it's too late now. Just blame it on being knew and honestly not knowing people did gifts around here.

Reading my mind

My family (well, mostly me) uses Amazon's Wish List feature for gift ideas, especially those small stocking stuffer type gifts. I literally put every brand of beauty, cosmetic and cleaning product I use on there so they don't buy me Crest toothpaste (I use Sensodyne) or something.

Back on Nov. 29, I found a really pretty yellow necklace on Etsy that I wanted. I had been wanting one for a while, most specifically back in October when I had to work an event with a Bruins player and had nothing yellow (ahem, "gold") to complement my black dress. Since then, I've gone to two Bruins games with my dad and came from work both times, so I was in cute work clothes as opposed to Bruins gear, and I WISHED I had some yellow jewelry.

So, I added said necklace to my Amazon Wish List. Forgot all about it, actually.

Today, my boss and co-worker and I exchanged gifts. The three of us are our own team within the bigger media relations team within the even bigger communications department. MY BOSS GOT ME THE EXACT YELLOW NECKLACE THAT I NEVER TOLD ANYONE BUT MY AMAZON WISH LIST ABOUT. How crazy is that?! She doesn't have access to it, but she knows I like going to Bruins games with my dad and that I often meet him right after work. And, she knows me well enough to know my style. Nailed it!

She also got me a very pretty cosmetic bag from West Elm. My co-worker got my a fuzzy ball winter hat that actually keeps my ears warm, unlike my other one which is thinly knit and barely provides any warmth, as well as a copper "K" wine stopper and a photo frame/ornament with a little dog on it - OBVIOUSLY a photo of Rags is going in that one.

I don't have a lot to spend on gifts this year, so I decided to make a majority of all the gifts I'm giving. For my boss and co-worker, I picked up a box of four stemless wine glasses for - I think - $8 at TJ Maxx. I got out my ginormous bag of acrylic paint and a box of Q-tips, and went to work “dotting” the bottom of the glasses. I did two in warm shades and two in cool shades. Then I baked them at 350’ for 30 minutes, and voila!

They both said they loved them, and appreciated that they were handmade. I gave the bluish ones to my co-worker and the pink ones to my boss as I thought they suited their personalities and styles best. I was going to tell them they could trade or mix & match but they opened them at different times and seemed content with what they got. Success No. 1 of my handmade gift-giving Christmas.

Recommendations for fellow bookworms

If you're looking for quick, easy reads during the holidays, I recommend the two books I loved most in the past year. The first is John Green's The Fault in Our Stars. I read it right after Peter Heller's The Dog Stars and the two couldn't be more different. I was just on a star kick, I guess.

I read The Fault in Our Stars the weekend before I started my new job. If you know where I work, you'll know that reading about adolescents with cancer was good preparation for me. It was fiction of course, but it provided a viewpoint of teenage cancer that we don't often see.

It's been made in to a movie that premieres June 6, starring Shailene Woodley. I'll be seeing this one in theaters (and I see maybe three movies a year in the theater - tops!). Maybe you've never heard of Shailene. She starred in The Secret Life of the American Teenager, and aboslutely dreadful show on ABC Family that I could not stop watching until the final season (which I still need to do). She was the only redeeming factor on that show. She'll also be starring in my other favorite book-turned-movie in 2014...

The Divergent series sounds a lot like The Hunger Games. Set in dystopian Chicago, 16-year-olds must decide whether they remain faithful to their families and upbringing by remaining in their original "faction," or if they want to start over with a new life, abandoning their families and friends for good. There are five factions - Abnegation (selflessness), Amity (peace), Candor (honesty) Dauntles (brave), and Erudite (knowledge). There's fighting and death and love, but the aside from those aspects, it's nothing at all like The Hunger Games. The subsequent books, Insurgent and Allegiant are equally as good. So good that I actually pre-ordered Allegiant (I NEVER pay for books) and it was delivered wirelessly to my Kindle in the wee morning hours the day it came out. By the time I got to work that morning, I was about 50 pages in.

I dragged my dad to Catching Fire on Thanksgiving night, and without having read the books or see The Hunger Games, I expected him to be totally lost and bored. He was not. We had a great discussion on the ride home about how clever Katniss is and how technologically advanced the Capitol is. But admittedly, my favorite part of the movie was actually the preview for Divergent, which premieres on March 21. I'll be seeing that one in the theater, too!

I don't anticipate either movie will be nominate for an Oscar or a Golden Globe, mostly because the target audience is probably the 16-24 age group. And based on my love of these two books, I'm guessing I still identify as a 24-year-old. It was one of my best years!

I'm Thankful

All week, or even all month, I've been looking forward to Thanksgiving. Not only are Wednesday and Friday my first days off (not counting holidays) since I started my job in July, but it's my first time spending any amount of time back in Longmeadow. This morning when I woke up, I was tired but knowing I'd be in Longmeadow later tonight put me in an instant good mood. And when I got off my train and walked outside, it was snowing. The last time it snowed, I was already in the office before it started. So this was my first, first-person experience with active snowfall since last winter (or spring, technically).

I only walk outside for about 25 seconds as I get from the Garden/commuter rail portion of North Station to the Green and Orange lines portion of North Station, but those 25 seconds of snowfall where all I needed.

As I walked into the station, I saw the guy handing out the free Metro newspapers. He's one of two guys that are always there in the mornings. I take a paper every single day, so when neither of them were there yesterday (it was bible salespeople, instead), I was disappointed. Today, just as I made eye contact with him, he dropped his stack of papers on the ground. Because we are consumerist jerks in 'merica, today's paper was enveloped in a giant sales circular from somewhere, making the normal matte newspaper print slippery due to the circular's glossy finish. I could tell he was having a hard time by the look of sheer frustration when he dropped them. He paused, and didn't bend down to pick them up right away. I think he was doing one of those, count to 10 in my head instead of cursing out loud, things. So I started to bend down to help him, but he smiled, put his hand out, and said, "No. Thank you dear." I smiled, took a paper, and went on my way. I made it exactly eight steps before I started bawling my eyes out. I don't know whether they were happy tears, sad tears, PMS tears, or what. He must know that everyone who takes a paper from him in the mornings is in a rush to get somewhere, and that he shouldn't let me make myself late. I started wondering how he was going to spend Thanksgiving. He can't make much, if anything, passing out free newspapers. Even if he does, he gets pushed, shoved, hardly ever thanked, and stands in a covered but freezing cold (or boiling hot) entrance.

I won't see him again this week as he's only there in the mornings and I'm off all week, but I decided that I have to do something. His hands are always full of newspapers but there's a window ledge nearby where he keeps a coffee. Maybe I'll bake some cookies or get him a $5 gift card for Dunkin Donuts. I don't know, but I feel compelled to do something. I literally tear up every time I think of this morning's interaction and I cannot figure out why it's bothering me so much, but it is.

Bottom line: I'm thankful for everything in my life. It may not be perfect, but it is exactly as it should be.

First post-surgery bummer

With nothing but positive comments from my friends, family, and other people who knew how bad my eyes were before my orbital decompression and even still before my eyelid lowering surgery, today was my first reality check that my eyes will never be exactly as they were before Graves'.

A guy at work, who rarely talks to anyone, said, "You always have this look of surprise. Like you're thinking, 'I didn't just see that, did I?'"

Little does he know, my heart just broke a little and it's more like, "I didn't just HEAR that, did I?"

Guess I need to consider that follow-up surgery after all...

Red Sox, Gators, Bruins and Patriots - but in which order?

*Edit: Dad swears he was never a Whalers fan, nor did he raise me as one. I don't know why I remember so vividly attending Whalers games and having all sorts of Whalers gear and being sad when they moved to North Carolina, but then again, I was in 7th grade when that happened so maybe I'm making up a childhood for myself here. Very possible with Graves' brain...

Everyone always asks me which teams I root for. I was born and raised in Massachusetts, but my dad was born in New York, spent a few years in Amsterdam, New York and then many more in Enfield, Connecticut. Although Enfield is on the border of Massachusetts, Connecticut hasn't had a professional sports team since the Whalers packed up and became the Carolina Hurricanes in 1997 (breaking all of our hearts, by the way). So most Connecticut residents root for either New York or Boston teams - and seem to be pretty evenly split. Rhode Island is surprisingly similar even though most people consider Rhode Island part of Massachusetts, and the Red Sox Triple-A team is in Pawtucket.

What I'm getting that is that I was raised a Yankees, Giants and Whalers fan. My family never cared about professional basketball, but we were pretty obsessed with UConn, especially during the 35-0 Rebecca Lobo season.

It wasn't until college that I got sick of being the lonely only Yankees fan. The 2003 ALCS was what did it for me. I was a sophomore in college and had been around Bostonians for the past year at my small state school, and I finally got the itch to switch teams. The Yankees won the series and I had to save face, but inside I felt so left out of the riot that the students had when we lost to the Yankees (notice I'm already saying "we" here). It wasn't a riot I condoned, but we were rowdy college kids and that's what you do when a Boston teams loses. Or wins. You riot. Students flipped a campus police car. I went to watch for a little bit but everyone knew I was a Yankees fan so I didn't stay and I certainly didn't partake in the mayhem.

That winter and spring, I became good friends with one of my co-workers at Target who was a diehard Red Sox fan from Enfield. He made it his life's mission to convert me. For Christmas, he gave me the ugliest, manliest (literally - it was a men's) Red Sox hat. But he was really trying. I liked him, so I let him win. I traded in my pink Yankees gear for non-pink Red Sox attire.

And boy was I rewarded. As we know, the Sox reversed the curse and won it all the following season.

Most days, I forget I was ever a Red Sox fan. My mom never really cared about the Yankees, but became a more loyal Red Sox fan in the late 90s or early 2000s. My brother could care less but liked identifying with my dad, so we were a house divided for many years.

When I moved to Florida in 2007, I had no idea how ingrained in the Gator Nation I would become. I didn't get season tickets to the games (first-year students almost never do), but I managed to procure tickets to every home game thanks to a sweet part-time gig with StubHub and a best friend who worked in the UFAA ticket office. The Sox made it to the ALDS and swept the Angels on my 23rd birthday, the day after a very rough Gators loss to LSU. I remember watching the World Series with my then-boyfriend, who had become a temporary bandwagon fan (only because of me) and was a huge Josh Beckett fan. We didn't do anything special for Game 4 of the sweep but sit on his couch and watch the game with no fingernails left at the end. Everyone congratulated me (my nickname in Florida was "Boston" because no one down there knows anything else about the state of Massachusetts) for a week straight, and I proudly wore my Schilling jersey everywhere, but nowhere as proudly as on Halloween a few days later when I dumped a bottle of red nail polish onto my sock.

I took this on my walk into work this morning.
2013 ALCS Champions!

To answer the question of what teams I root for, I struggle every year with my order of preference. After last year's dismal season, I went into this season saying 1. Bruins 2. Gators 3. Red Sox 4. Patriots. That preference only means if all four of those teams were playing in some championship game at the same exact time, which would I watch/go to. But this year, the Gators are sucking and the Bruins season has only just begun, so you can safely assume my order is more like 1. Red Sox 2. Bruins 3. Patriots 4. Gators.

On that note, I am available Wednesday and Thursday evenings if you would like to take me to Games 1 or 2 of the 2013 World Series. My office is approximately 450 yards from Fenway Park and I know of a great place to get a drink and a burger before the game that only the locals know about. Call me.

Just a clean freak, not suicidal

Every time I clean and purge my office/desk at work, I always wonder if people are assuming the worst. This is because when I was in high school, I would eventually get sick of my locker being full of papers and other crap that made it messy, so I’d clean it out and usually ended up bringing home clothes, gym sneakers, and other things that had just been piling up. One time, I guess I had been having a bad week and so when I cleaned out my locker, the next day I was called down to my guidance counselor’s office. I don’t remember the conversation anymore (it’s been 11+ years), but she basically asked if I was going to kill myself. Ummm...what?! No! Of course not! Why would you ask me that? She said my friends were concerned that I had cleaned out my locker and took a lot of things home, and they had informed her that they thought I might be planning suicide. I immediately knew which friends she was referring to, and I was furious with them for crying wolf when they knew full well I was just down in the dumps, not suicidal.

I think we had all been reading too much “Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul.” Remember those books? I think they specifically recalled the story of Kyle, which I’m sharing below from an untrustworthy source, so who knows if this is even how it goes.

One Day – Story
One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class was walking home from school. His name was Kyle. It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, “Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd.”

I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friend tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on. As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes. My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, and I saw a tear in his eye.

As I handed him his glasses, I said, “Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives.” He looked at me and said, “Hey thanks!” There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude. I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived. As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to private school before now. I would have never hung out with a private school kid before. We talked all the way home, and I carried his books. He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play football on Saturday with my friends and me. He said yes. We hung all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him. And my friends thought the same of him.

Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, “Boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!” He just laughed and handed me half the books.

Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends. When we were seniors, began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for business on a football scholarship.

Kyle was valedictorian of our class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn’t me having to get up there and speak.
Graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually looked good in glasses. He had more dates than me and all the girls loved him! Boy, sometimes I was jealous. Today was one of those days.

I could see that he was nervous about his speech. So, I smacked him on the back and said, “Hey, big guy, you’ll be great!” He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled.

“Thanks,” he said. As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began. “Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach… but mostly your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story.”
I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn’t have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile.

“Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable.” I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment. I saw his Mom and Dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize its depth.

Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person’s life. For better or for worse.

It's a nice story, and still gives me chills. But that wasn't at all the case with me, and I didn't at all appreciate my friends' concerns because they were unfounded. I eventually forgave them and realized they were actually looking out for me, and maybe also trying to create a bit of drama at my expense, but I still think about every time I do a deep clean and purge of my desk or even my place. Awkward!

Unless I got someone's else lab results...

I know. I'm horrible at posting. I promise to update everyone on my life and get better at posting regularly.

Short post. I'm confused. When I moved to Boston, I had trouble sleeping. I was in an unfamilar place, I was on a brand new schedule, and working long days. So I stopped taking the niacin regularly because when you can't sleep, you can't wait until you fall asleep to take it. And when you take it, and get the horrible flush, it makes it even harder to fall asleep.

So I assumed my cholesterol would skyrocket. I combated that with daily strenuous exercise and a really clean diet. I also walk a TON now during my commute.

When I met with my new primary care physician last month, I told her I had been really bad about taking the niacin. She was OK with it. She basically told me that while it has been shown to lower the numbers, it hasn't been proven to actually reduce risk factors for heart disease. So someone who takes niacin for high cholesterol may have good numbers, but still might have heart problems. She said we don't know enough, but that if my body wasn't adjusted to the flush after so many months on it, that I should stop. So I did.

And look what happened.

	2/11/2013	4/5/2013	5/22/2013	9/20/2013	Normal
HDL	72.5	69.4	72.9	66	45-65
LDL	202	219	175	151	0-130
Triglycerides	130	129	105	83	40-150
Total Cholesterol	301	315	269	234	135-200
Cholesterol to HDL ratio	4.1	4.5	3.6	1.5	3.5-5

Your Total Cholesterol of 234 is BORDERLINE
Your LDL of 66 is OPTIMAL
Your HDL of 151 is OPTIMAL
Your Triglyceride level of 85 is NORMAL

RATIOS:

Your Total Cholesterol/HDL ratio is: 1.55 - (preferably under 5.0, ideally under 3.5) IDEAL
Your HDL/LDL ratio is: 2.288 - (preferably over 0.3, ideally over 0.4) IDEAL
Your triglycerides/HDL ratio is: 0.563 - (preferably under 4, ideally under 2) IDEAL

On a related note, my thyroid levels are perfect. I haven't switched doses since...I don't know when. That's never happened! I've never forgotten how long it's been, because it's never been more than a few weeks!

Moving Out and Up

I survived my first week of work. Actually, I more than survived - I flourished. I really did love it. Let's back up a bit though, shall we?

Wednesday was my last day of work. I wore a fun, new, work-inappropriate dress from Francesca's:

I spent most of the day writing instructions for my replacement, whom they have yet to hire. Around 3, we all pretty much stopped working and started getting ready for our little shindig. My co-workers gave me these beautiful roses they coined as "Vera Bradley roses" because of the pattern that reminded them of all my Vera Bradley accessories. We made sangria and my boss bought my two favorite wines - Kim Crawford sauvignon blanc and Cupcake sauvignon blanc. A few colleagues came over and we ate and drank and chatted. When it was just our department and spouses left, my boss gave me a hug and said she wanted to leave before me or else she'd be an emotional wreck watching me leave. It's nice to feel so loved and appreciated at work. A few of us stayed till about 7 or so, and then I met some friends at a bar for dinner and more drinks. I think I finally got home around midnight.

I spent Thursday and Friday just enjoying some time off. I unplugged as much as I could and slowly began packing, which I did the bulk of on Saturday.

Sunday was tough for me. I had packed up my car on Saturday night save a few bags, but I woke up with a pit in my stomach knowing in a few hours, I'd have to leave Rags until the weekend. About two weeks ago, something changed in his behavior. He stopped letting my dad take him for walks if I was home, and started following me everywhere, even into the bathroom. I think it was mostly because I was recovering from surgery and spending more time in bed, but also because I was packing up boxes and he knew what that meant. I cried like a baby when I kissed him goodbye and said what I say every morning before work, "I'll see you later baby!" He cried and scratched at the door which he very rarely does - he knew.

I cried again as I drove away, again on the phone with my mom on the highway, and a few more times on the the 90-minute drive to Woburn. I knew I'd see him Friday night, but I cried because I felt bad for him. He was confused and scared. But I know it'll be a good change for both of us when we finally have our own (almost) space again.

Unpacking was uneventful, aside from being ungodly hot. I didn't even really unpack. I hung up my hangers in Julia's spare closet and put my toothbrush in the bathroom. I'm basically living out of boxes, bags, and suitcases until August 1. It's just not worth the work to unpack and then do it all again in three weeks.

Having Juls and Donny as "roommates" is nothing new since I've stayed with them so often. But Julia's cooking is top notch and I feel like a houseguest since she just does her thing in the kitchen while Donny and I drool over the smells and then devour the end results. Kitty has taken a liking to me and now doesn't mind me sharing her space. Buster is a lovebug as always, and is getting better about stealing my food off the plate while I'm eating. When I'm sitting on the couch, we're about the same height so if I were him, I'd try to steal my food, too!

I do look forward to being in my condo as of August 1, but it's more likely that I won't sleep there until the 3rd or 4th. As of right now, I'm sitting on my bed in Longmeadow. I got back here last night to spend the weekend with Rags. He was SO happy to see me, and has hardly left my side. Dad and I went out to breakfast this morning (I was up before him - that happens about twice a year) and Rags freaked out when we left, but he is happily dozing about 8 inches away from me right now.

More about the job and commute next time!

Bad Makeup

It really does look like I'm wearing uneven, excessive purple eyeshadow and eyeliner. I went over to HR this morning to sign a bunch of crap that says today is my last day, and was sitting very close to one of the women. She didn't say anything about my eyes. I know she could see the purpleness. She probably assumes I'm being beaten and that's why I'm running off to Boston.

Shower Photos

I was so busy hosting (and sweating and hiding behind my sunglasses) on Saturday at Julia's shower that I only took a few photos. She took a ton, and we promise to share them soon. But because everyone keeps asking, here are the few I took.

Mushroom cookies made by little girls! Clearly my life is worthless if children can bake better than me. And the little signs I made for all the food. The terra cot pots they're in are hidden.

Some of my favorite parts of the shower. First, the garland. There was one in each color on the three tables. And then the pots for the cutlery. All handmade.

Juls and her mom with the enormous, beautiful, and delicious cake - one of the only things we didn't make.

The gift/card table.

Barbara (owner of the home the shower was at) was getting rid of this chalkboard, so I decorated it with doilies, stamped them with JULIA and BRIDE, and used a chalkboard pen to write the countdown.

The favors are in the basket - seeds packets I designed myself and filled with forget-me-not seeds. The letter J was a perfect, last-minute find at TJ Maxx. The flowers were from one of the guests and so my watering can worked out as decorative and functional.  The galvanized steel pail held cards. The photos were displayed in front of doilies and strung along twine held up in two terra cotta pots with wooden stakes. We asked everyone to bring a photo of them with Juls. Of course, Donny's side didn't have this but what we brought worked.

Just some of her gifts. She is loved!

Juls with her mom, Tamara, and the homeowner/close family friend, Barbara.

Juls and me. Yes, I'm hiding my bruised, swollen eyes behind sunglasses and a hat.

Juls with Chelsea (Donny's sister, other bridesmaid) and me.

Cutting her cake. Love that her sandals and bracelets matched everything!

One Week Mark

Today marks two one-week milestones. It's been one week since my surgery. My eyes are exhausted and I'm guessing it's from my first full day of work since surgery, which was yesterday. Staring at the computer all day would make anyone's eyes tired, and I think my recovering eyes were just not quite ready for it.

Otherwise, I feel great. The stitches are dissolving and thus the incisions are healing, which means they're itchy. Almost burning sometimes. But it's a good sign.

Today is also one week from my first day in the office. Because I'll spend my first day as a Dana-Farber employee in a daylong orientation with all the other new employees (physicians, nurses, interns, etc.), my first day in my office with my new co-workers won't be until Tuesday.

See Ya, Surgeon!

Today is post-op day 6 and my eyes are feeling great. The bruising and swelling got worse around the 48-hour mark but has been improving since the weekend. I was able to throw Juls what I considered to be amazing bridal shower (huge post to come) that went off without a hitch on Saturday. Hiding behind sunglasses and a hat, no one had any idea how bruised I was except for her and her family.

I saw Dr. C this morning for my last appointment with him ever. As I'm moving to Boston this coming weekend, my insurance will no longer cover him. He was SO pleased with how my eyes look already. They are still very dark purple and swollen, but for the first time in more than two years, my eyelids are no longer retracted. I have been so overwhelmed with relief that I've been crying happy tears since my surgery - I finally look like my old self again.

The stitches are dissolvable and almost gone. The eyelids are almost perfectly even but the surgeon showed me massage techniques to bring the left lid down every so slightly to line up with the right. He gave me his cell phone number so I can text him photos of my eyes as they fully heal, and I am going to stop back in a few weeks to let him take official post-op photos once the swelling and bruising are gone.

I agreed be his poster child for thyroid eye disease treatment and repair. I wrote reviews on Google+, Yelp, HealthGrades, and his website since there seems to be so little out there about orbital decompression and eyelid repair. So much of what he and other oculofacial plastic surgeons do is cosmetic, and both of my surgeries were medically necessary, fully covered by insurance, but unheard of by almost all medical professionals I encountered along the way.

Eventually, I will need a cosmetic procedure to remove all the excess fat that Graves' deposited above between my eyes and eyebrows. And I'm quite sick of contact lenses, so I might consider LASIK down the road. But for now, I'm looking forward to have normal eyes with no more surgeries or appointments any time soon.

Not So Fast

After feeling like a million bucks for most of the day yesterday, my eyes reminded me that the trauma they endured on Tuesday was a bigger deal than I was giving them credit for. As I started getting more tired, my eyelids started hurting. It felt like a sinus headache in my eyebrows. I didn't want to, but I broke down and took a Percocet before bed. Fortunately, I slept like a baby again despite a lengthy afternoon nap.

This morning, I slept until almost 9. I woke up, iced my eyes a few times, made breakfast, and finally psyched myself up enough to go to Michaels. I had to get a few last-minute things for the shower. By the time I got home, I needed lunch and a Percocet...and fast.

I finished the last few shower projects high as a kite, including my big gift to Julia. Fortunately, my creativity can endure narcotic-induced silliness. I am getting so dang excited for Saturday - I just hope I feel a lot better than I did today.

Bilateral Repair of Upper Eyelid Retraction

Now there's a mouthful for ya. That's exactly what I had done at 11:30 a.m. yesterday. It was much easier than I expected and MUCH easier than my bilateral orbital decompression back in September.

Dad and I arrived at the hospital at 10 a.m. While in the waiting room, Dr. C (oculofacial surgeon) came out in his scrubs to say hi. He told me he was having a great day and feeling good about my surgery. That calmed my nerves.

Eventually, I was called back to my pre-op room. I was anxious and ready to cry, but before I knew it, I was being whisked into the OR. The surgery took one hour, and I had sedation with local anesthesia. My body doesn't tolerate general well (I get very sick) so this was great. I was asleep for the first half but the surgeon woke me up for the second half as I had to keep opening my eyes so he could make sure the eyelids were symmetrical. I felt pressure and could hear him cutting, but no pain. He is from Chicago so we discussed the Stanley Cup finals and my upcoming move to Boston while he was snipping away at my upper eyelid muscles. Before I knew it, surgery was over.

I spent about 90 minutes in recovery, and chugged four things of apple juice and downed three packets of graham crackers. I laid with ice on my eyes for a while because the right eyelid turned black almost immediately. I bruise easily so we knew this would happen. As soon as I could stand up and dress myself, they let me leave. As we were driving home, the novacaine was wearing off so I took a percocet and a half, which quickly took the edge off. I ate a LOT, dozed on and off, slept like a baby, and didn't need any pains meds past 7 last night.

Today, I woke up feeling great. I was slow to get moving but walked my dog, took a shower, washed my face, accidentally peeled the DermaBond off my right eyelid incision (but the incision is still intact, so I'm not worried), and even went into work for a few hours. I have an ointment for the incisions that I'm supposed to apply four times a day. I don't know if the stitches are dissolvable or not (they were for my OD) but I see the surgeon on Monday morning. He called last night to check up on me.

Right now, my eyelids look droopy but that's probably a combination of the swelling and the fatigue. I hope they look a little more natural in a few once when the swelling and bruising resolve. Honestly, the worst pain is the IV site in my left hand.

I'm just so relieved to know that I can drive (since I'm not taking painkillers) and throw Julia an awesome bridal shower on Saturday. I just can't lift anything but that's what Donny is for! I've invested in a big Fedora sunhat to A. hide the bruises and B. protect the incisions from the sun - I don't want ugly scars!

After working for a few hours, I was exhausted and took a three-hour nap. Upon waking, I wasn't very hungry but knew I needed to eat so I grilled myself a hot dog and some squash and zucchini. And I had my first glass of wine in 3+ weeks. Needless to say, I needed another nap afterward!

My plan tomorrow is to lay low, and maybe get my nails done if they're even open. The 4th really doesn't mean much to me. Last year, I spent it miserable with a massively swollen wrist from a kayaking injury. This year, I'll spend it less miserable but with much worse swelling. Juls invited me to the beach, but that's just not a good idea yet. I still tire easily, and the nurse warned me to stay out of the sun and heat as it will slow healing and aggravate the swelling. Saturday - the day of the shower - it's supposed to be 93 so I envision maybe a glass of two of sangria and LOTS of water.

Without further ado:

Guess what day it is?

This commercial is one of my current favorites, along with Snuffy the Seal.


So when my boss suggested we invite over the colleagues we actually like (there aren't many of them) for happy hour on my last day here, I asked if I could make the invitation. Here's how I spent an hour of paid working time today:

OK, it wasn't really an hour. More like 8-10 minutes.

Juls and I have long been talking about starting our own event planning business someday. She's an excellent chef and party planner, I'm getting lots of experience with planning her shower, and I'm pretty awesome at making marketing materials. So needless to say, this WILL be going in our portfolio.

Successful Saturday

I'd say yesterday was pretty successful. I woke up at 6 a.m., was on the road by 7:30 a.m., and in Woburn looking at a condo at 9 a.m. The condo is owned by a guy named Frank. He's 33, works in marketing, and is renting out one of the bedrooms. The house is literally 1.8 miles from Julia and Donny. He's cool with Rags, and since he works out of the house most days, he even said he'd be happy to let Rags out when I'm at work all day. The condo is immaculate - he keeps it really clean and is surprisingly good at decorating for a guy. There are three levels - upstairs where the bedrooms and a full bath are, downstairs where the living room, kitchen, dining room, and a half bathroom are, and a fully finished basement where the washer and dryer are. The yard is enormous and since this is part of a condo association, they take care of all the maintenance, including snow removal. Score!

After visiting the Woburn condo, we went in search of bridesmaid dresses. After trying on probably two dozen dresses, one big disappointment when the dress we all fell in love with turned out to be discontinued and thus not available, we finally said yes to a dress. It was actually not at all what we thought we wanted but Juls loves it and it looks great on our bodies and - the most important part - it comes in the colors Juls wants! We got it at Bella Bridesmaid on Newbury Street in Boston. I can't say enough about Britt, the owner. She didn't mind that we were late, sweaty, and smelly. The dress we chose was her idea, and we are so grateful that she thought to bring it out.

We need to order (i.e., pay for) the dresses by July 15 in order to have them by the end of November. Britt gave us a 10% discount so that helped a lot. Now we need to figure out how to "dress them up." The dress is elegant as is, made from chiffon, but Juls wants some sparkle so we'll either need to add a belt or just some beading. That's the fun part!

After a short picnic on Boston Common, we went and looked at another potential place for me. The apartment was cute but small and in a really rough-looking part of Boston known as Mission Hill, but it was really close to Roxbury. And my potential roommate admitted she smoked pot and that her boyfriend was "around a lot." No thanks.

In the car on the way home, my mind was made up. I talked to both of my parents and made my final decision. The only negative is that the condo isn't available until August 1 (his current roommate is a 22-year-old girl who is moving out to "grow up and be on her own") but my job starts July 15. Julia and Donny have graciously offered me "my bedroom" in their house for those two weeks. This means I can't bring Rags - he's a jerk to Buster - but it will give me flexibility with my schedule so I can get adjusted at work, go out for drinks afterward, and not worry about rushing home to Rags. I'll come back to Longmeadow on the weekends to spend time with him.

So, without further ado, here's my new home.

Exterior:

    Upstairs:
   

Downstairs:

Basement: