Back In The Saddle

And now I'm back. From outer space. You just walked in to find me here with that sad look upon my face (Come on...sing along!)

I must admit that I've been blog shy lately. I haven't posted anything due to the fact that I am busy/lazy/crazy/hazy/whoops-a-daisy. But, I think that the main reason for the unintended hiatus was because I didn't end up making it into the medical study.

"Why not?" you ask.

Weeellllll, it had to do with the fact that my red blood cells were down just enough to disqualify me. The doctors on staff felt that if they took blood from me that I might not be able to replenish it easily. So, they sent me packing and off I went. They were kind enough to pay me for my time that day, but I really would have liked to make the boo-coo bucks they were laying out for the entire study.

This has since led me to reconsider my adventures in vegetarianland.

Although I have been a vegetarian for over five years now, this is the first time that I feel like I have not been properly fueling my body. Seeing the drop in my red blood cell count along with low iron levels has been somewhat disheartening. I mean, I thought I was doing all right! I made a conscious effort to try and head off any low iron levels in the past and I thought I assumed I was fairly successful. Guess not.

So what now? I am (reluctantly) jumping back on the meat wagon. Temporarily. We'll see how things go after a couple of months. I'm sure there are thousands of die-hard vegetarians who would love to tell me how to fix this without eating meat just as I am sure that there are thousands of meat-eaters who are giddy to have me back. To both groups I say, "Meh."

Honestly, I'm a little sad that I'm eating meat again, but I'm not distraught. Given the problems that so many people have in this world, I'm just grateful for food of any kind that appears on my table.

Excuse Note

To Whom It May Concern:

Please excuse Paperwing from blogging from May 10 through May 14. She will be at a medical study making tons of money while simultaneously feeling wretched.

I fully expect her to return on May 15 with tales of her ordeal.

Please call me if you should have any questions.

Sincerely,

Paperwing's Mother

Mother's Day: One Day Early

We're celebrating Mother's Day a day early this year. I am scheduled to check in for a paid medical study tomorrow and will be spending Mother's Day having my blood drawn and peeing into a cup.

My husband, ever the good sport, volunteered to drive me to the study at o' dark-thirty tomorrow morning. For the next 4 1/2 days of my time, I will be paid $1000. It beats the pay I get as a substitute teacher.

This will be my third study. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Truth be told, at this point it is all about the money. I don't have the luxury of deciding how I feel about what these experimental drugs could (or couldn't) do to my body. The mortgage must be paid.

On the positive side, when I'm in a study, I enjoy catching up on all my reading. I take lots of naps. I watch lots of t.v. and movies. I feel like I am functioning at the bare minimum level. It's kind of like hanging around your house in your pajamas. Except for the blood draws and the peeing in a cup thing.

I'll miss my family and I'll leave them lots of lists of things to remember while I'm gone.

I hate the fact that that all my kids will see of me on Mother's Day is a series of blue and pink post-it notes.

So, we'll try our best to cram all our celebrating into today and then pretend that tomorrow really isn't Mother's Day at all. Except it will be. And we all know it and that makes it twice as hard for us to be apart.

Which will make it all the sweeter when we're back together on Thursday.

Hey, I know it's just a Thursday. But, when I think about all the hugs and kisses I'm going to get when I'm back...it's almost like another Mother's Day.

Which Side of Town Are You From?

I live in a pretty small town. Really small. If you had fifty towns this size, they could all fit comfortably inside Madison's Camp Randall Stadium and watch the Badgers play. And we'd still have extra seats available.

When I first moved here, I purchased a house from one of the village's elderly residents. A Mrs. Loy. She was selling the house she had grown up in so that she could move into the local nursing facility. It always made me a little sad to think that my starter home was her ending home. You generally don't hear the real estate agents talk that way, though.

In short order, I began to realize that everyone in town knew my house. The Loy house.

"Oh!" someone would say when I gave them my address, "You live in Mrs. Loy's house!" Almost as if we had moved in with Mrs. Loy. I have to admit, after a while, I didn't even have to give my street address when someone asked me where I lived. I'd just breezily say, "I live in Mrs. Loy's old house," and I'd see the light of recognition shine in the other person's eyes as they began to nod, knowingly.

I knew one single, solitary person in my new town. Although I hadn't seen him for over ten years, he was kind enough to invite me to a local talent show one Saturday night. After participating on stage with his band, he sat down at my table and, sotto voce, gave me the lowdown on our fellow citizens. This one was a teacher, that one was a volunteer firefighter and so on and so on. He seemed to have everyone's story down pat. There was no harmful or malicious gossip; just a kind man filling in a newcomer on the town's Who's Who. People began to wave towards us when they recognized my friend. It was all so wonderfully heartwarming and Norman Rockwellesque.

I remember being pleasantly surprised at the high caliber of talent displayed at such a small, local fundraiser. But even more than that, I remember the fellow sitting across from me at our long, community table. He wore a fleece lined jean jacket and almost absently turned a corduroy engineer's cap around and around in his calloused hands throughout the performances.

During the intermission, when my friend excused himself to check on his gear, the stranger leaned over towards me and said, "So, I hear you're new in town."

"Yep," I answered. "Been here since January."

"Like it?" he asked, cocking a bushy grey eyebrow at me.

"Yeah, I really do," I answered.

He nodded without smiling. "Where d'you live?"

And I, with my confidence soaring, secure in the reciprocated love of my new hometown, answered, "I live in Mrs. Loy's old house."

"And where's that at?" he responded.

I was devastated. How could he not know? EVERYONE knew!

I began stammering and eventually managed to garble out my street address.

"Ahhh!" he answered as he settled his cap on his head. "That explains it."

That explains what? I wondered.

The man got up and buttoned his coat. "You see, you live on the south side of town. I live over on the north side. Don't have much call to get over to the south side much."

I'm afraid my mouth was still hanging open when the man excused himself and sauntered over to the door.

When my friend returned to the table, he asked me if I was enjoying myself.

I replied that I thought we all could stand to get out more often.

Looking For Inspiration

I've just realized that I've hit a whole new level of procrastination. Why else would someone start a blog?

My hope that my adventures in Blogdom prove interesting to at least one person. Or that I make someone laugh. With any luck, it will be the same person.