Rigging Up the Lights - 2012 Edition

So.  I rigged up the lights last year, and I thought I was going to seriously die.  I kept waiting and waiting for Ben to do it, and he did that Ben Thing where he just puts it off and puts it off until I do it.  So I tried to set aside my extreeeeeeme fear of heights and put the lights on the house.

I was so scared while I was doing it that I was shaking.  I remember the postman came to deliver the mail and yelled up to me, "Are you okay up there?"

"Uh....yeah...but will you come back and check on me to make sure I haven't fallen off this ladder??"

I was really, really scared.  By a miracle from heaven, somehow, I didn't die putting those dang lights up.  And I decided that I'm never, ever doing that again.  I'd rather not have lights at all than do it again.

I asked Ben a few times whether he was going to put lights up this year, and he kept putting it off, so I figured we were going to have a bare house this year.  He surprised me by putting them up on Saturday!

The kids, as usual, were eager to help.  I was glad to have them out of the house for awhile.  I waddled outside to take some pictures.

Dylan actually posed this way - it reminded me of Napoleon Dynamite:

Sadie's two front teeth are taking their time to grow in, and I'm glad.  I loooove when kids are missing their two front teeth:

After awhile, I started hearing major thumping on the roof.  I was like, "Hmmmm."  I was feeling horrible, so I didn't go investigate.  Then Micah came in and insisted I come and "take a look," and this is what I found:

Ben let Dylan and Sadie hang out on the roof!  Yikes.  Bikes.  I was kind of freaking out, but also, I was feeling so horrible that I was just eager to get back inside and on the couch.  I was like, "Welp, I hope they don't die..."

When they started running on the roof, Ben finally banned them from it, thank goodness.

I suppose they haven't inherited my fear of heights.

Here's Benny.  Look at that cute butt:

 The end result:

I still need to put the lit garland on our porch railing and the netted lights on our privet, but it feels nice to have this part done.  And let's be honest - with the way I'm feeling, the porch and bush might not get lit this year.  Which is okay.

My Recovery - Week Three

Ben took a picture of Xena last night that depicts how I feel today:

Haha!  Her face is mooshed right against the couch.  She cracks me up.  I love her.  She's been my therapy cat today.  It's been a rough day.  Very emotional.  Very exhausting.  She's come and butted her head against my hand and shoved her butt in my face to show that she's concerned about me. 

This is how my recovery feels:

I thought it would be like the white line - slowly better and better every day.  Not so much.  It's definitely all zig-zaggey like the greenish-reddish line.  That second big green canyon is me today.  (I have no idea what this graph is truly showing.  I googled graphs.  It was about something financial.  Which means that it went immediately over my head.)

I finally weaned myself off hydrocodone this week.  (Standing up to thunderous applause, gasping, hugging Ben, and waddling slowly up to the stage in my beautiful gown.  Talking into the microphone.) Thank you, thank you so much.  I'd like to thank my mom, who said I couldn't borrow her car for parent-teacher conferences if I was on hydrocodone.  I'd like to thank my sister, who told me I could get arrested for DUI for driving while on hydrocodone.  And I'd like to thank my hairdresser for gasping when I told her I had hydrocodone and saying, "OMG, you could totally sell those on the street for some serious money!!!"  All of you made me feel ready to take the leap into Tylenol Land, which should just be called I-might-as-well-swallow-pills-made-of-air-because-it-doesn't-help-me-at-all-Land.  (Holding up my award)  I love you all!!!

Anywho, my recovery reminds me of that Bruce Springsteen song, "One Step Up and Two Steps Behind."  One day, I'll feel pretty great.  So I'll maybe do some dishes.  Cook some dinner.  Go to a work Christmas party.  The next day, I pay the price for doing those things.  I'll be on my back on the couch for the entire day.  

But you know, sometimes I'm really good and don't lift a finger, and I still feel crummy the next day.  It's really unpredictable.  The pain isn't too bad.  Some tenderness at the incision site, of course.  What is really bad is just the exhaustion I feel.  For some reason, the hydrocodone kept the exhaustion at bay.  I mean, it made me a little sleepy, but I didn't feel a bone-crushing exhaustion.  But now, yeah.  Just so stinkin' tired.  More tired than I've ever been, and that's saying something.  Because I've been tired for years!!!  Having kids does that to you.  And having thyroid disease.  Kind of a killer combo.  But those are nothing on this.  Nothing.

I told Ben tonight when I had another cry-fest (Why do I always get those on weekends?  Any thoughts?) that I had Buyer's Remorse.  I really miss my old life.  Sure, I had pain from my prolapsed uterus and bladder, but it wasn't horrible.  It was manageable.  I could still exercise.  Cook.  Clean.  Take care of my kids.  I'm just kind of sick of lying down all the time.  Tired of TV.  Tired of reading.  I want to be jogging.  Visiting friends.  Doing fun things.  I'm sick of feeling gross. 

I was telling my friend that I feel so sorry for people who have cancer or other horrible diseases or infirmities.  They feel crummy for months and years.  I can't imagine how hard it must be, to be basically trapped inside a body that's not working.  I'm catching a small glimpse of what that's like, and it's awful.  It makes my heart go out to them even more than it already did.

And I'm starting to feel some major guilt - Ben had a very small surgery a couple of years ago.  It wasn't as invasive as this has been at all.  But still.  It was a surgery.  And he felt crummy for a couple of weeks.  And....I don't think I was there for him emotionally.  I had a newborn, and I was trying to cope with that and with taking care of the kids all by myself and doing all of the cleaning, and I was maybe a little resentful of Ben, thinking, "What he had done is no big deal. I don't know why he can't just dust himself off and get himself off the couch and help me."  I had just gone through a very difficult pregnancy, and when he would talk about how awful he felt, I was just like, "Dude.  Try to feel this way for nine months and then we can talk."  But now I feel bad.  I was a jerk for treating his pain so lightly.  And he's been so incredibly supportive of me through all of this.  Such a sweetheart.

And may I announce a disturbing development in my recovery - I have an abdominal "apron" now. Kay.  So before the surgery, I obviously had a bit of a spare tire in my tummy area.  But it was smooth, right?  It sloped out, and it sloped back in where my legs meet my torso.  But now?  It slopes out, and where my incision site is, it goes in drastically and drops straight down.  It's hard to explain.  Like how guys who have a really big belly fasten their belt below the belly.  And the belly hangs over it.  I look like those guys!!!  Ugh, it looks awful!!  Dang it!  Ah well.  Am I planning on wearing a bikini anytime soon?  No.  So it will be okay.  It's just kind of disturbing.

I just have to keep chanting this mantra in my head:  "At least I don't have that stupid catheter anymore.  At least I don't have that stupid catheter anymore."  That helps me feel better. :)  Sorry to be such a Debbie Downer.  Hopefully I'll feel better tomorrow...

It's a Major Award!!!

Ben's office throws seriously fun Christmas parties every year.  I always feel a bit awkward at first, because I don't know ANYONE, but sooner or later, I work the ole' Kar Magic on whoever we're sitting by and become friends with them.  A couple of years ago, we sat next to a couple and I couldn't crack 'em.  Which was perplexing to me.  There usually isn't a nut I can't crack. 

This year's couple took lots of Kar Magic, but by the end of the night, we were chatting like old friends. :)

I wasn't sure I'd feel well enough to go - I ran out of my second bottle of hydrocodone today and started using Extra Strength Tylenol.  The pain was okayyyy - I was a little more tender than usual at my incision site, but it was tolerable.  It was the sheer exhaustion that really hit me.  I wanted to sleep all day long.  I felt like a zombie.  Walking around in a tired daze, bumping into stuff...  Even ten minutes before we left, I was lying in my bed, going, "Ohhhhhhhh....."

But I got my butt up and we went, and I felt better and better as the night wore on.

We had a white elephant gift exchange; I loooove those.  We did one at a work party back when I taught school, and we laughed and laughed.

I was number 49:

The guy sitting behind me was also at our table.  He's super-duper nice. 

Through some very strategic moves, Ben and I scored an A Christmas Story lamp!!!

We are both seriously so excited.  We set it up as soon as we got home:

Fra-gi-lay.  It must be Italian!

It's not as big as the one in the movie, which is fine with me.  Oh, and the wrong size of lightbulb is in it.  Which is why the lampshade is cockamaymee.  We need to go get a smaller lightbulb, and then it will be just perfect. 

One of the waiters stopped me on our way down the stairs to leave the party, and he was like, "I am so jealous of you.  I'm seriously thinking of offering you money for that." I chuckled.  It really is so cool.

After yeeeeears of hunting...

I have wanted a card-holder for, like, 15 years.  One where you display the Christmas cards you get each year.  I get around 30 cards every year, and I never know where to put them.  I want to display them, because they're beautiful.  To me, cards are works of art.  Obvey. 

Every time I've seen a card holder at a friend's house, I've been like, "WHERE DID YOU GET THAT??"  And always, it used to be their mom's.  Or it used to be their grandma's.  I've searched far and wide.  I was wondering if I was going to have to make one of my own one of these days.

And then, during one of my many, many hours of watching TV, I saw a commercial for Pier 1 Imports, advertising what?  A CARD HOLDER!

I immediately texted Ben and begged and pleaded to let us get one.  Now.  Before they're gone forever and I never find another one again.  Being the nice dude he is, he said yes, and we went over to Pier 1 tonight.

The one I saw on TV was $40, and it matched nothing of mine, but I was just that desperate that I was ready to get it.  And then I saw this little beauty:

 Yeee!!  Look how cute!!! 

It was $25 instead of $40.  Much better.  And look!   It matches my decor perfectly:

Lime green, red... perfect.

Last night, I finished my prototype for my Christmas cards I'm sending out this year:

I tried it on my new cardholder to see how it would look:

Aw yeah.  Perfect.

So, friends, you can go ahead and start sending some Christmas cards my way.  They have a guaranteed home.

I'm abominable.

One of the many ways in which I'm dumb is that I get too ambitious.  For example, I've been eyeing this recipe that I got a couple of months ago out of Better Homes and Gardens:

I would scan it for you, but our printer/scanner is broken.  And our TV, clothes washer, and clothes dryer are also going down that "broken" road.  Right now I'm listening to the dryer running.  It squeaks in this really high-pitched way that makes me want to punch someone.  I'm seriously considering putting in my ear plugs.

Could my life beeee any cooler right now?  Hahaha!

Anyways, the reason that I'm being dumbly ambitious is that I think that I'm actually going to be able to make this meal tomorrow night.  The reality is that I'll feel like crap all day and then ask Ben to bring home bean burritos tomorrow night.  Let's be honest with ourselves.

So this meal is called Beer-Glazed Sausage and Apples.  Fresh sage, thinly sliced apples, kielbasa sausage, fresh green beans, all cooked in a thick, citrusy glaze.  Yummm.

Oh.  And beer.

If you don't know me, let me announce it to you - I don't drink.  But I'm also a foodie, so I am guilty of harboring an occasional bottle of white cooking wine in my cupboard.  Some of my favorite meat dishes utilize alcohol, all of which cooks out.  I always feel really weird and guilty about it, and I always shove my alcohol to the very back of the cupboard. 

So I'll need 24 ounces of beer for this recipe - they recommended a belgian-style wheat beer (I have no idea what that means, honestly...).  So I wrote it on my list, and Ben brought home not just two bottles.  He brought home an entire six pack.  He said it was cheaper than buying the two individual bottles.

I felt all kinds of dirty and guilty.  I proposed pouring the extra four bottles down the drain, but there truly are four or five more beer-centered meat dish recipes in that magazine that I'd also like to try.  Ben's all, "Just keep the extra four for when we make those other dishes."  I just couldn't keep the beer in our cupboard or our fridge.  So I had Ben put it in our storage room.  And I put this sticky note on it, in case anyone ever pokes around in there and thinks they've uncovered a skeleton in Kar's closet:

Here's Ben, pretending to take one out of the six pack:

Silly kid.

I still don't know how I feel about keeping four extra bottles of beer around.  If you're a beer lover and come over to take them off my hands, I won't say no...

Baby Steps

Today was the first day since my surgery 2 1/2 weeks ago that I have felt well enough to do my hair and makeup.  This is a biiiiig deal. :) 

I have an appointment with my hairstylist on Thursday.  I think it's time we had a heart-to-heart.  I've been wanting an a-line.  She keeps giving me a bob. I might have to bring a picture, eh?

The Reason I'm Having a Great Christmas Season

Usually, I'm driving my kids around to all of their various activities, driving myself to work, and driving myself to the store.  And usually, I tune the radio in the car to the Christmas station, starting the day after Thanksgiving.  I love Christmas music!  I'm in the car all the time, listening to Christmas music all the time.

Well, this year, I've been really enjoying the Christmas season.  More than usual.  I usually really hate it.  It's stressful and people hardly ever make Christmas what it's supposed to be about - a celebration of Christ's birth.  It's commercialized and just really horrible.  But this year, it's been smooth sailing.  I wondered if it's because of my hydrocodone, honestly.  Those pills make me happy.

But when Ben and I got in the car yesterday to go to dinner and a movie with my parents, sisters, and their hubbies,  I figured out exactly why my season has been more pleasant than usual.  Ben had the radio set to the Christmas music station.  And that's when I realized...

It's because I haven't been listening to Christmas music!!

Like I said, I love Christmas music!  But I think my problem is that I've been overloaded by Christmas music.  I listen to it for an entire month, all the time.  And I think it's just too much.  Not listening to Christmas music has been a very welcome thing for me this year. 

So I've decided, when I'm done with hydrocodone and good to drive again (and want to leave the house again, honestly - you would think that I ran an ultra marathon yesterday instead of going to dinner and a movie), I'm not going to tune the radio to the Christmas station until the week before Christmas.  Then I'll enjoy it.

And I think that's my plan for next year, too.  I think sometimes there is too much of a good thing.

Music affects me a lot, come to think of it.  I remember, when Ben and I were first married, we got permission to paint the living room of our first rental house.  We were painting and listening to Ben's favorite radio station, a buttrock station.  And as I was rolling this sage green color on the walls, and listening to this horrible, violent music, I was getting more and more angry at Ben.  I was just so MAD!  I finally realized that the music was affecting me. We switched to a jazz station, and immediately, I felt so much better!!

Ben's alarm on his iPad plays "Pink Moon" by Nick Drake every morning, and it makes my morning so much better than the beeping of my alarm clock.  It wakes me so kindly and so calmly.  Ahhh.  I love Nick Drake.

Music really does affect you.