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...
Monday, November 4, 2013
Monday, October 21, 2013
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.
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.
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! |
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.
Friday, October 11, 2013
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.
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!
Friday, September 20, 2013
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.
Your Total Cholesterol of 234 is BORDERLINE
RATIOS:
Your Total Cholesterol/HDL ratio is: 1.55 - (preferably under 5.0, ideally under 3.5) IDEAL
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 | Normal | |
| HDL | 72.5 | 69.4 | 72.9 | 45-65 |
| LDL | 202 | 219 | 175 | 0-130 |
| Triglycerides | 130 | 129 | 105 | 40-150 |
| Total Cholesterol | 301 | 315 | 269 | 135-200 |
| Cholesterol to HDL ratio | 4.1 | 4.5 | 3.6 | 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!
Saturday, July 20, 2013
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!
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!
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
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.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
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!
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