I'm Doing Much Better, Thank You

Medically speaking, 2011 hasn't been a lot of fun for Rose.  That's not to say that it hasn't all turned out fabulous.  As of today, I've lost 112 pounds and other than a lovely scar and almost NO memories from Scotland, I can't complain about the appendectomy either.

Wednesday, October 25th, was the official 6 month anniversary for my gastric surgery.  Post-op, I was given a prescription for Prilosec to reduce the production of acid in the stomach and thereby reduce the risk of ulcers.  I was told to take it for six months.... October 25th was six months... ergo, when the prescription ran out on Saturday the 29th, I took the last pill and said adios to the Prilosec!

Sunday, I made chili and had some for dinner.  Monday, I had chili for lunch.  Not mine, but some Buffalo Wing Chili which was super spicy.  For dinner, I don't recall what I had, but for Tuesday breakfast, I had the rest of the Buffalo Wing Chili that Deborah graciously let me make off with.  Lunch was... I don't know, but for dinner, Mom made spanish rice which, while not as spicy as I would have made it, did have a tomato base.  I had leftovers for breakfast and lunch on Wednesday.  For dinner, Mom made spaghetti.  Again, not overly spicy, but tomato-y. 

Thursday morning, I awoke at my usual 5:30 am.  I didn't want to get up.  In fact I laid there for a couple of minutes weighing the pros/cons of calling in for a mental health day and decided that it would only make going in on Friday almost impossible, thereby requiring two mental health days and I didn't think I needed that.  I got up.  The muscle in my upper left arm ached, like I'd had a shot in it.  I thought maybe I'd slept wrong on it.  I ambled into the kitchen to make my protein shake, I noticed that it was pouring outside and quietly said a prayer of thanks because obviously God knew that I didn't want to go out for a walk and provided accordingly.  I also noticed that my tum wasn't feeling all that great, but...  I took my shake to my room, sat at my computer and started to farm while slurping it down.

About 20 minutes into the shake, and I hadn't drunk but about 1/3 of the 16oz shake, I started having pains and it hurt to breathe.  I got up to try to "walk it off", but that didn't work and I realized that I needed help.  I hobbled into Mom's room and woke her up from a complete sleep (slacker), told her she needed to take me to the ER and I walked to my bathroom to put on my sweatpants... a total of 40 feet?  During that incredibly long trip, I started hearing the blood rush in my head and all sound started coming from far away thru a tunnel.  I knew I was going to pass out.  Thank God that I got my sweatpants and was able to collapse onto my bed.  I didn't pass out.  Mom got the elevator, I got in, knowing that it's the world's slowest elevator, and when I started feeling woozy, slid to the floor, so I ended up crawling to the car.

Mom drove my car to the ER.  Now, anyone who really knows me knows that NO ONE drives my car unless I'm dead or dying, so that alone should speak volumes.

At the ER, my insurance paid for an EKG, blood tests, a chest x-ray, and a CT scan (my fourth one this year - I should be due a free one soon, I think).  The end result was that although I was having pain when I breathe and couldn't breathe deeply, they had ruled out anything life-threatening and were sending me home.  WTF!?  I should rest and follow up with my doctor.  Sigh.

On the way home, I called my doctor who, as I already knew but hoped I was wrong about, doesn't work on Thursdays.  After arguing with the telephone nurse that this wasn't acid reflux because I've HAD acid reflux, I was told I could either see my doctor, the best in the world, at 9:30 on Friday morning or come in and see Dr. Conway at 11:45 (a couple of hours away).  I decided to wait for my doctor.

Mom got me home and up the elevator without incident or gravity taking over.  I slipped off the sweatpants and, having wore my Snoopy nightshirt to the ER, I was ready to crawl back in bed.  The tech had told me to drink lots of fluids in order to flush the CT scan dye from my system, so I asked Mom to get me some juice.  She wanted to get me water, but I wanted juice, so I whined and she brought me juice.  In retrospect, I would argue that although this whining is/was not a mature thing, it was beneficial as it brought us to an answer sooner rather than later... so don't judge!

Since you've already read the background, I'm sure you can guess that, yes, the juice caused more pain.  We called the doctor's office back and got that 11:45 appt with Dr. Conway.  An interesting man, he was my father's general doctor... yeah.  Anyway, after listening to all of my back story about surgeries, health conditions, current meds (including the fact that I'd stopped taking the Prilosec almost a week before, he gave me some Mylanta to see if it helped.  I can't say that it HELPED!!, but it did make me feel somewhat better.  We decided that the stopping of the Prilosec, combined with the almost full meals of spicy acidic food for a week, had caused some damaged.  I needed to resume the Prilosec to get back to the acid reduction, take Mylanta to help heal the damage, and resume my Carafate (this pink liquidy stuff I had to have an hour before meals and at bedtime for the first two months post-op - it creates a protective liner on the stomach wall to prevent further damage and help aid healing.)

As I'm typing this, it is Sunday evening.  I've been taking the medicine, eating only bland foods, and resting/sleeping a lot.  Oh, I forgot to mention the Lortab the doctor gave me for the pain!  :)  I'm not 100% back to the Rosemary version of normal, but I do feel much better.  I will admit that this afternoon, after Mom left to go somewhere, I got me a glass of juice and, even though I watered it down, it make my tum hurt, so I'm drinking water.  It still hurts to take deep breaths, to yawn (damn, why is it even typing that word makes me do it?), etc., but I do think we're on the road to recovery.  If not, I'll call and go see MY doctor!!  The bestest doctor in the whole-wide-world!... but obviously not on a Thursday!

Don't Hate the Playa

At the law firm where I work, for the past several years, five, I believe, we've had a chili cook-off with the proceeds going toward the money spent on the families we "adopt" for the holidays.  It's generally quite a hit with lots of people bringing in many different varieties of chili and lots more coming in to eat/vote.  And I'm thinking that each year there's been a whiff of ballot-stuffing and hanging brads...er.. chads.  This year was no different.

In 2009, I made a damn good pot of chili and I think I should have won.  I was robbed.  Let me point out that the most important key to winning is LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION... of your crock pot, that is.  In 2009, I got there late that day, I don't recall why, and by the time I got there all of the prime spots were taken and my lowly little crock pot was stuffed in the far corner with another crock pot filled with grey chili - it was grey in color and in flavor.  It was gross - and the attorney who brought it in knew it and boldly said that he just put anything that was in his refrigerator into it.  So consequently, anyone who went over to that table, saw the grey stuff and immediately turned away without giving my lovely chili any consideration. 

In 2010, I wasn't able to do anything about my miffedness over being robbed because I was in Washington DC attending the Stewart/Colbert Rally for Insanity.  But I knew my day would come.

This year, the theme was "Little Schop of Horrors."  Don't write in and tell me I misspelled the name, I didn't make a mistake.  One of the managing partners is named Schopmeyer and Greg, the attorney/creative mind behind the chili cook-off thought it was a great idea and that we could superimpose Schop's picture over the plant in photos/decorations.  (see below)

The rules of the cook off are simple, there are three categories: traditional, spicy, and non-traditional.  The votes are $1 each with no limit as to how many you can purchase.  The top vote-getters in each category win the medal for best in category.  The top vote getter of the category winners wins the travelling trophy and bragging rights.  This year, for the first time, Greg also got an adorable smaller trophy that the grand champion got to keep - it was adorable.  I wanted it.

My friend Ashley and I discussed it to death and came to the following conclusions:  no entrants in the spicy or non-traditional categories have ever won the grand prize.  We both wanted to win - her because she wanted the travelling trophy for the next year and me because I wanted the cute little keeper.  Therefore, we both needed to make traditional chili.  But our running against each other might result in a splitting of the vote and allow a dark horse to come from behind and snipe it from us.  So first we discussed my not entering any chili.  But I really wanted to make chili. 

So I contemplated making a spicy chili.  But honestly, I don't know how to make a "spicy" chili.  My  mom thinks my chili is plenty spicy, but she has a wussy palate.  So then we contemplated Ashley making and entering her traditional chili and making and ME entering her spicy chili (which in retrospect would've worked because she said that the ONLY spicy entrant that we ended up with ...ergo the winner of that category...was no way as spicy as her spicy chili!)  Ah, hindsight. 

Then I set my sight on the non-traditional category.  Shawn, our HR peep, was going to make chocolate chili cupcakes - in another life, Shawn was/will be a famous cupcake maker.  So, being a fan of the Food Network, having read Like Water for Chocolate, and seen the movie "Chocolat" many times over, I knew that chocolate and chili (the spice, not the dish) go well together.  I got on the Google and found several recipes for Chocolate Chili.  I picked the one that had ingredients we were likely to have or be able to find and decided I'd enter the non-traditional category with chocolate chili.  But, having never made it before, thought maybe we should make it before hand to see how it was.  This was a good idea because while it wasn't bad, it wasn't a winner.  And I really ought to get on and find that recipe again, just so I can make a comment to the person who commented on the recipe about how it's such a fab dish and gets raves everywhere she takes it.  LIAR!!

Now it's Saturday (the cook off was on Monday), and I'm back to the start.  I just decided WTF!  I was going to make my chili and what happened, happened. 

Sunday afternoon, I dug out all of my chili ingredients which I had purchased before all of the above waffley angst and started making chili.  Meat, check.  Onion, a big one.  Celery, potatoes and beans, enough but not a lot.  Tomatoes, diced and sauce, check.  Salt, garlic, chili powder, check, check. check.  Hot sauce.  I got to the fridge and look for the bottle that I know mom not too long ago because we ran out back when I was in the baby food stage post-op.  I find the bottle and it has a Big Lots price tag on it and I'm thinking "hmm.. how strange that she went and got that at Big Lots."  But I put it in my chili nonetheless.  As I'm returning the bottle to the fridge, I find the bottle that mom bought at Schnucks a couple of months ago and realize that the Big Lots bottle was the one that was in my fridge for years at one or both of my apartments... therefore, nice and, uh.. well-aged.  If I say so myself, it was very good.  Duncan thought it could use more spice.  Mom said it was spicy enough and had a big glass of milk with hers for dinner.

Monday morning, I reheated it, tasted it, added more salt (as the potatoes must've soaked it all up) and chili power, and poured it into my lucky crockpot.  Ok, our only crockpot.  I've been working a lot of OT at work lately on a big project, so I got there shortly after 7am and put my crockpot in a good spot.  (Remember, LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION!)  I then emailed Boss #1 Steve, Boss #2 Carrie, and Jake (one of the attorney who has a special place in his heart for my biscuits and gravy) that if, when they go in to eat at lunchtime, they recognize my adorable little white crockpot with purple grapes and green leaves on it and feel sentimental toward it because of all the good biscuit and gravy memories and it compels them to vote for it's contents, to go with the feeling.  (No one said that campaigning was against the rules!)

Long story short, when all the votes were tallied, my chili had won not only the non-traditional category, but the big trophy too boot!  (see picture).

As usual, there were rumblings about ballot-stuffing.  I say that no one prevented them from spending all the money that they would normally donate toward the holiday family in December in October on chili voting.  Plus, my chili got 95 votes.  I know that I did not 1) spend $95 dollars; or B) even put all of my votes into my pot - I shared some with Ashley and I put some in Deborah's Buffalo Wing Chili (I got the recipe, BTW) which was terrific and won it's category.  Therefore, other people must've voted for my chili! 

I did offer Ashley possession of the big trophy, but she declined.  Next year, she will win.  I'm sure.  :)

The (Evil) Plans of Mice and Men...

I have an appointment today, over lunch, in Newburgh to get my chin zapped.  (Laser hair removal)  Anyway, I had this evil plan for the day and it's all been spoiled.  See, I'd told both my bosses that I have an appointment in Newburgh over lunch.  But I'm NOT going to tell Steve (Boss MAN #1) that it's laser hair removal!  Come on!  Some things I only tell the world via the internets.

 

So Item #1, I was going to have this mysterious appointment in Newburgh.

 

THEN, I was going to wear this suit that my friend Royale gave me when she gave me some of her formerly fat clothes.  It's a wool suit and it's been too warm to wear before now, but the high today is supposed to be in the 50's, so I thought today would be a perfect day.  I even nabbed a pair of panty hose from mom because I don't own any.  And said pair was just "Queen Size" as opposed to the 4X of Just My Size that I used to shoe horn myself into! 

 

So Item #2, I was going to be in this suit, looking ultra professional, in hose and heels.

 

The result of item 1 and 2, I hoped, would be that Mr. Steve's chain would yanked a little and he'd be sweating over the thought that maybe I had a job interview.  Because it would be the first time in the 11-plus years that I've worked here that he's seen me in a suit.  Plus, I was going to try to get Carrie (Boss Woman #2) to help by coming in and asking him if he knew why I was dressed so nice!  tee hee!

 

So this was my evil scheme.

 

The only fly in the ointment turned out to be when I went to put on the pants to the suit this morning, I pulled them up, and they literally fell off of me!  OMG!!!!!  So although my evil plan was thwarted, it was because I've lost so much that the pants that were too tight on my back in mid-August now do not fit at all!

Position Available

I have the sad responsibility to pass along the info that my foremost foreign fan (yep, Rose knows how to use a thesaurus) has returned to the States and she is, in fact, now bad in the Tri-State area.  Yes, due to Heather's wimpy-ness, I no longer have an International Blog readership.  (At least that I know of.)  I guess that makes her my formerly foremost foreign fan! 

 

So, I'm happy to announce that I will be taking offers to fill the vacancy left by Heather.  The only requirement is that you 1) live in a foreign country – Kentucky does not count; b) read my blog regularly; and lastly, have a mutual friend pass along the fact that you LOVE my blog to me occasionally.  Unfortunately, this is not a paid position, other than the obvious joy gained from reading Rose's Ramblings regularly.

 

My nephew, Duncan, has volunteered for the position.  However, he currently resides with me and Mom and while I don't go up there very often, I don't think the upstairs bedroom qualifies as a foreign country.  I'm pretty sure, though, that Winifred would gladly secede from the Condo with Duncan if he chose to do so.  Although that might not be a wise alliance on her part, as there is no food or water up there.

 

Duncan also would not qualify as I don't think he is a regular Ramblings reader.  That stumbling block can be easily overcome, though, and we have plenty of mutual friends (mostly his mother and sister – although I don't think he'd call his sister a "friend.") so he has potential.  His availability to fill the position and therefore move to a foreign country probably depends on how well he does at USI this year.  If he passes, he may be moving into the dorms next year, which, while down the road a wee bit, still doesn't count as a foreign country.  If he doesn't do so well, his parents may help him pack his hobo sack and he can hit the road with his passport.

 

So until final grades come in, I will assume the best and continue my search for Heather's replacement.  Now, I realize that the silent majority of my fanbase may contain a foreign fan.  I am well aware that Blogspot does not make it convenient to post comments on their blogs and I'm too lazy to investigate moving it.  But if you're out there, feel free to let me know.  The position is yours for the taking.  And you will get a shout out!  I like to give my peeps their proper!  (Yes, I'm very white and in my 40's so I'm totally lame.)

 

So to sum up:  Must live outside the US, read my blog, and shower praise on me via a mutual friend (or I suppose Facebook praises would work, too) and all for the whopping sum of NO DOLLARS.  The dollar isn't worth much at the moment any way!

It's Fall Festival Time!!

In Evansville, the first full week of October means one thing to the majority of the populace:  the Fall Festival.  Now, I've heard it said, and will pass it along here even though I don't know if it's true, that Evansville's Fall Festival is the 2^nd largest street fair/festival thingee after Mardi Gras.

 

I do not generally go to the Fall Festival and I have friends who are just shocked everytime they invite me and I tell them no thanks.  Post-op, now they assume it's because I can't eat what all they serve down there.  But no, I'm sure I could eat a lot of the food there.  I just do not like 1) large crowds; second, eating standing up; and C) paying highway robbery prices for bizarre food. 

 

The first time I went was as a child… probably 8 yrs old.  I know Holly and Haley were there so it was before they graduated high school.  There was food, there were rides, and 3 billion people!  I don't recall, but I assume I had a good time but I never really had a desire to go again.  Been there, done that, you know. 

 

Now, post-high school, my friend Karen insisted it was the most fabulous event on earth.  She would save an entire week of her vacation time from work to take the first week of October.  She would be down there every day.  Against my better judgment, she convinced me to go with her one afternoon – meaning it probably wasn't even all that crowded.  The Fall Festival that year was where I won the monkey in the picture with Dad that was a part of my October 5^th Blog entry.  The monkey is the one on the left. 

 

Then about seven years later, another friend, regular Rambling's reader Rebecca (Becky), convinced me to go with her one evening luring me in with talk of the world's best chicken and dumplings.  Wrong!  My mother's chicken and dumplings are the world's best.  Sigh..

 

And there have been a few (VERY few) times that I've been suckered into going with the gang for lunch over the years.  One time that stands out in my memory, Jennifer found a $20 bill on the ground as we walked from the car to the madness.  I was jealous, but she bought us each something with it, so I got over it.

 

Last year, mom and I had to go down there to the bank to meet about our mortgage application during Fall Festival week.  Afterwards, we purchased and split a celebratory cupcake from the booth directly outside the bank.

 

For the past several years… I think this year is #3, or maybe #4.. hmm… yeah, it's #4, or #5....  Anyway, I've "volunteered" to go to the Life Choice Center two blocks from Franklin Street and the madness, to help de-bone chicken for dumplings (again, not as good as my mothers, but the people who make them seem to think that the person making them was given the recipe by God Himself) and make piggy toes (cocktail wienies, wrapped in bacon, covered in brown sugar, and baked until they are caramelized and wha-ha-ha they are good).  I could eat my weight in piggy toes.  I mean, they're meat and sugar.  What's not to love!?  I guess I can't eat my weight in them this year.  Too bad.

 

Life Choice is a home for unwed mothers in our church's former church building.  Mom and I will be there at 8 am on Saturday.  We'll get a primo parking spot which, a few short hours later, people would be willing to PAY for, and we'll go wrap those wienies!  At noon, we'll reward the person who just happens to be weaving down 12^th Avenue at that moment with the parking spot and we'll go home.

 

Meanwhile, where is Ashley with the deep-fried Thin Mints she was going to get me!?

Status Update

I know that the blog-fans... Ramblers?... hmm... I'll have to come up with a name for you.  Anyway, I know that those of you who are NOT on Facebook.  Ok, probably just Becky.  Asks for photographic updates on my progress periodically because they (Becky) do not get to see the pics on FB. 

 

So the above picture was taken this morning.  Yesterday was Week 23 (1 week away from 6 months! - assuming my math is correct...)  And I'm at 98 pounds.  Frankly, I've been there for a couple of weeks, but it's ok.  I'm feeling great.  Still doing my walk/jogging despite it being DARK in the mornings when I get ready to set out. 

 

I actually purchased (because yes, they fit... VERY tightly, but they fit) size 14/16 pants a couple of weeks ago.  I ought to try them on again to see how they fit now. 

 

I have no warm sweaters and I get cold easily since I've lost a lot of insulation.  So I'm either going to have to go shopping for sweaters or raid Mom's closet, or both!

 

I've been letting my hair grow out, because I want to see what I'll look like skinny and with long blond hair.  (Remember, I grew up in the 70's, so Farrah Fawcett is there in the back of my mind and I want to look like her!)  But with the hair loss (and I confirmed this with my doctor) and the protein loss over the whole Scotland/appendix event, my hair is of a straw-like texture, so I had mom chop off a couple of inches of crappy scarecrow hair and now it's looking pretty good.  I have bangs that, when they hang straight, go to my lips!  Maybe by the end of the year they'll be even with the rest of it!

 

Ok, so that's my update at the moment.  I've settled nicely into my routine, getting all of my protein, calcium and vitamins in.  I struggle daily with getting enough liquids in, but that'll probably be the usual from now on.

 

Almost six months in, I'm very happy with my progress and have NO regrets from my surgery.  I appreicate everyone's prayers for me, interest in my progress, and compliments.  I'm pretty sure I will NEVER get tired of hearing how good I'm looking. 

They Say It's Your Birthday!

Today is my father's birthday.  He would be 71 years old.   (Is that right?... 2011-1940.. yeah, that's right.)  The picture above is one of my favorites.  Dad is the one on the right.

 

I've been thinking of him a lot in the past few months.  I think it all started when Mom made the comment that Dad would think her using some of their retirement money on my surgery would be well worth it.  That, of course, made me cry. 

 

Then whenever I was feeling blue, post-op, she'd tell me that she was proud of me, and I'd cry.  She'd tell me that Dad was proud of me, and I'd smile through the tears.  She'd tell me that Sophie and Gizmo were proud of me, and I'd have to laugh at that!

 

There was a gentleman at our church, Lloyd.  He knew and respected Dad.  Lloyd would frequently tell me how much he was praying for my success at the weight loss and that he knew Dad was up in heaven happy for me.  Lloyd passed away last week.   He was like 93 years old, I think, and he'd been going downhill for the past several weeks and his children had to sit by and watch it happen.  I'm grateful that if Dad had to go, he went like he did.  I didn't get a chance to visit Lloyd in the hospital before he died.  I know it's silly, but I wanted to go and visit him and ask him to say "Hi" to Dad for me.

 

Then yesterday evening, I'm sitting at home, logged onto Facebook, killing zombies and I get a notice that one of my friends (not someone I actually know, obviously) posted early birthday wishes to Dad on his Facebook page.  I'm sure I've mentioned that we keep Dad's Facebook page so we (Holly, Haley and I) can log on and have him send us necessary farm or zombie killing supplies.  But this person obviously doesn't know that Dad is no longer physically with us.  I'm looking forward to logging on tonight and finding out how many of his Farm/Zombie "friends" have sent him birthday wishes. 

 

My friend Shawna is like 14 months pregnant and her actual due date is 10/16.  I keep telling her that October 5^th would be a lovely day to have her child, especially since she isn't going to name him Wade, after my father, for me.  (They're going to name it after her husband's grandfather, or something… that's just selfish!)  And then we made lunch plans for tomorrow, so I truly feel that she'll have the baby today (and spoil our lunch plans).  She comes into the office today and tells me that October 5^th is the day of the year with the most babies born on it.  I find that interesting.  I would have thought July 22^nd would've been more popular.

 

Anyway, thanks for listening to me ramble about my Dad. 

Identity Crisis

All of my life, I've been called by many different names.  My mommy called me "Pumpkin" when I was a wee little girl.  My college roommate called me "Bunz"… after I told her once that I had the "Barger butt" … she ran with it and I became "Bunz!"  Frankly, I'm surprised that I was listed as Rosemary "Bunz" Barger in her wedding handout thingee. 

 

My mother, grandmother, aunts and uncles have all called me "Christine" at one time or many others.  The reason behind this being that I have an Aunt Christine who is "blond"… or at least started out blond like me.,, and I suppose, well.. I just don't know the reasoning beyond that.

 

It's not just a me/Christine thing either.  My sisters inherited this weirdness.  They frequently call me by their daughter's names and vice versa.  I've been called Natalie and Hollian… I don't recall if I've been called Brynn, but odds are that I have.  I'd have to ask her if she's been called Rose or Rosemary, but I know the other two have, because I've overheard it.

 

It doesn't bother me - it's one of those things that you put up with.  The only name I've been called that really has ever bothered me is "Rosie" and I'm sure that stems from the whole "ring-around-the-rosie" crap to which I was subjected in elementary school.  And of course the famous Rosies out there (Barr, O'Donnell) don't make me want to embrace the name either.

 

I, however, have never really had a problem with names.  Well, there was that one time that I was overly stressed at work and I couldn't remember Melba's name despite the fact that we'd worked together for, then, at least 7 years and she was standing there talking to me and all I could think of was that I had no clue what her name was.  And of course when I turned 40 and my mental light bulb started flickering, but with that everyone's name has an equal opportunity to be forgotten… and plus it's a memory thing, not an interchanging thing.

 

Now, however, I've realized that I have in fact inherited the sickness.  "But Rosemary, you say (because you know that I won't respond to "Rosie"), you don't have any daughters whose names you can switch!"  And you would be right.  I do have a "son," so to speak.  His name is Gizmo and he's a very handsome blue-grey 6 year old cat.   So that's one half.  The other half is my nephew Duncan who is currently living at the 'do with me and Mom.

 

Yup, you guessed it.  On more than one occasion I have called Duncan by the name "Gizmo."  He doesn't seem to mind.  But like me, I'm sure he'll put up with it and feel morally superior until one day he calls his daughter Rosemary or Natalie or Bunz!

New Acquisition

My new pedometer just arrived.  So now I'll be able to keep track of how far I walk/jog each day.  I know that you are on the edge of your seat in re: the same, so I'll be sure to keep you informed!

Incredible Shrinking Woman!

I think the water temperature is too hot in the condo because I'm shrinking!  My size 22 white capri pants that I found in the back/bottom of my closet that day that Mom and I gathered seven trash bags full of clothes I could no longer wear to take to Goodwill are now too big.  (Did you follow that?  My ability to string along a bizarre sentence has not shrunk.  In fact, if you're able to follow the rest of this blog, give yourself a hand!)

 

And the pants that my friend Royale gave me from her fat closet before her surgery two years ago which fit snuggly the first time I tried them on are loose too.

 

It's a good thing that back in May, when I was preparing to return to work after the GB surgery, and I had no clothes that fit so I had to go shopping, I bought a couple pairs of capri's (since I knew it would be a long hot summer) in size 18/20 in the hopes that I'd be able to fit in them before it got cool enough that I couldn't wear them.  Why?  Because, baby, Rose is wearing those puppies today!!  And they fit, they aren't snug or nuthin'!  And I'm thinking I'd look pretty good wearing them and my XL Muppets/Abbey Road t-shirt.  Too bad the t-shirt wouldn't comply with the dress code at work.  Sigh.. 

 

Tomorrow is week 18.  On Monday, I weighed and I'm at T-minus 88 pounds!  I got home last night and Mom said I looked really skinny.  Several other people made similar comments during the day, so... tee hee!!  And she took a picture.  Yeah, I know, it'll hit Facebook before I get it posted here, but maybe by the end of the week.

The Dog Days are Over

Ok, I've been thoroughly chastised for my delinquincy in blogging. In fact, I believe the comment was that she was tired of my trip to London already!

So on this beautiful Sunday afternoon, I am sitting here on the balcony, with mom's laptop, in my new size XL (note the lack of a number in front of that X!) Muppets/Abbey Road t-shirt surrounded by sleeping cats, bringing you up to date on Rose. I can only imagine how boring it's been without your semi-irregular dose of Me!

First, the status of my diet/exercise. I was also admonished for not posting pics on here for the benefit of the non-Facebookers of my fans. If my hair looked better, I'd have Mom take a pic of me in my size XL t-shirt for me to post, but you'll have to make do with this one - me in some of my new clothes that I bought with my birthday money, at 14 weeks and 80 pounds lost. I'll pause now so you have time to bask in my wonderousness.

I can't say exactly what week I'm on now... 17 or 18, I think. And from my birthday until about a week ago, I was stuck on a plateau. Feeling sorry for myself because I was stuck at 80 pounds... for a MONTH! Of course I told myself that my body had to catch up with all the weight loss, and I know that muscle weighs more than fat, and I'd resumed my walking during that month. Still, I'd got to the point where I stopped weighing because I didn't want to be disappointed. But last weekend, before I chugged my protein shake and took my walk, I weighed and I'd lost 4 pounds!! So my plateau was over and I was a happy camper!

Speaking of my walking, I've been doing pretty good, walking at least 5 days a week. I drove my route with my car, including circling the church four times... pretty sure whoever was in the church was wondering what I was up to, and it is right over 1 mile. But at one point, after I'd been walking four loops around the church each morning, I figured I either needed to up the quantity or the quality of my laps. Since I get really bored after the third lap and can barely force myself to do number four, I opted for the quality. All of which means that I've started jogging. At first, I was proud of myself for jogging enough parts of a lap to equal one side of the church. Then after a couple of days, I did one whole side of the church at a jog with no walking in between. Then a jog/walk/jog walk... totalling 4 sides... then 6 sides... then yesterday, the jogger in me said "Go for it!" and yesterday and this morning, I jogged around the church, all four sides, no walking... pretty exciting. Next: the Boston Marathon!

Did I mention that there are no numbers before the X on the size of my XL t-shirt?

What else? Well, my nephew Duncan has moved in with me and Mom at the condo. Since neither of us has any experience at either being or being around teenage boys, it's going to be an experience for all three of us. And neither of us feels like we know him very well, so we're enjoying the opportunity. Mom's happy to have someone to cook for who eats more, but not much more, than I do. He started his classes at USI this past Monday. The cats are enjoying his being here, especially Winifred, who loves him. It's hard to tell if she loves him more or his red beanbag chair! Gizmo, used to being the only "man" of the house, took a while, but he's come around too. We had to assure him (Gizmo) that Duncan was not planning on staging a coup and removing Gizmo from his throne as man of the house, first, but that seemed to work. We really enjoyed having Duncan with us yesterday when we went to Sams to get kitty litter. Mom can't lift the 42 (no kidding) pound bags, and I can, but it's a struggle. He lifted both of them at once!

Finally, it's taken a while, but I'm slowly getting back in the groove of working for a living. I'd probably be pushing it to have another conveniently timed surgery in order to get off for a few more weeks. I feel guilty every time I tell Steve I have a doctor's appointment! But having been off for the better part of three months, it took a while before I really felt like I was back in the swing of things. Of course getting up early in the morning is still a struggle, but that may be because of having to get up and walk/jog while it's barely daylight outside. But then I remember that I get to wear my size 18 shorts and it's easier to get out of bed!

Are We Home Yet? 'Cause There's No Place Like Home...

So to bring you up to date, yes, I got out of the hospital about noon on Sunday, July 3rd. The doctor's office had faxed the medical flight form to the airline, so all we had to do was wait for the airline to contact us on Monday morning to advise if they were approving my request so we could make plans to fly home on Thursday. Other than that, I just needed to rest and relax while Mom and Holly roamed around Edinburgh and take pics so they can tell me what I've missed.

But then, what is that quote?... "When people make plans, God laughs." ?? Sigh.

You will recall that Mom and Holly were staying in dorm rooms on the campus of the University of Edinburgh. They had originally been given single rooms, with a shared restroom down the hall... typical college dorm. The plan was that when I got out we would either get another one for me or, if I wasn't up to being by myself, upgrading Mom's room to a double. Well, the Lord took care of it and the first night after sleeping in their singles, they were informed that they'd been given the wrong rooms and for their trouble of having to be moved, were being upgraded to doubles! And the doubles came with a bathroom! Praise God!

So they got me to our room, I crashed.

Monday - The rooms came with a free breakfast each morning. Breakfast like, OMG!, if I could have eaten more than 3 ounces per meal, I shudder to think of what I could have shoveled in! So after breakfast, we called the airline to confirm that they'd received the form from the doctor's office. We were told that they had not received it, but as soon as they did, blah, blah, blah. So I called the hospital to confirm that it had been sent. I had to leave a message. In retrospect, we lost an entire day on Monday because I didn't call and push enough. By the end of the day, Air Canada still didn't have the form and I needed to talk to Mrs. Gillis's secretary who had already left for the day.

Tuesday - after breakfast, I call and speak with Mrs. Gillis's secretary. She knows nothing about this, which is understandable, but will investigate. An hour later I call her back. She says she's found the form. Holly hops on the bus to go pick up a copy of the letter/form. When she gets back with the letter, Holly, who by now has cultivated a nice relationship with the ladies in the office at the University, has them fax the form. We give it about 15 minutes and call Air Canada and were told that they had not received the form, but as soon as they did, blah, blah, blah. Someone suggested that we email the form to them. So Holly went and talked her new friends into scanning the pages so we could email them. After calling the idiots at Air Canada and confirming that they had all of the pages (after multiple attempts at emailing them) and explaining that we didn't send page 5 because there was nothing on it as it was not applicable to my situation, we think we're good.

Next, we get a call from Air Canada advising that they didn't get page 5. Sigh. Yeah, we told the other lady that it was empty so we didn't send. Well, they need page 5, so we need to have the doctor write "not applicable" across it and fax it. Right, like I'm going to go bother the woman again so as to her have her write "not applicable" across of piece of paper. I made the note across the page and Holly asked her friends to scan it for emailing. About 15 minutes later, I call Air Canada and confirm that they have it...that they have ALL of the pages necessary. They did.

Next, they call to advise us that the attachments are unreadable. They couldn't have told us this before?? They want us to fax the forms to them... You mean fax the same forms which we've unsuccessfully faxed multiple times to the same number where you've NOT received them those same multiple times?? Yes, ma'am. Holly faxes the forms, but again, it's the end of the day and they've left for the day, so we're left in limbo. I contact my office here in the US and ask for information on how to contact the US Embassy in the UK for help.

Wednesday, we are fully prepared to call the Embassy (not knowing what they could do for us, but still) if we do not get help. Fortunately, along came Frieda. God bless Frieda. Frieda must've had the week off up until this point because she was a breath of intelligent fresh wind in the Air Canada office. Frieda was able to confirm that they were in receipt of the fax, all pages. Frieda had to sent the documentation to the medical office in Canada, but I conveyed our frustration with this whole process and how badly we just wanted to get home as gently as possible, and she said she'd put a rush on it so that the minute the Canada office opened (2pm Edinburgh time at the earliest), they'd look at it.

Finally, about 5pm Frieda called to advise that my flying was approved, so she transferred us to reservations. Long story short, though, there were no flights out of Edinburgh for the next week, so we had to take a train back to London, spend the night and fly out of Heathrow on Friday morning. We could do it!

Thursday, after our breakfast, we left for the train station and boarded our train back to London. This time the train ride was more enjoyable for me. The countryside as we rode by was gorgeous. Lots of cows and sheep, very lovely.

Friday, we flew home and fueled on McDonald's Sweet Tea, Holly drove us down to Evansville. It felt so good to sleep in my own bed, with my cats, that I almost cried before going to bed.

Day 7 thru ?? – I Left My Heart… er.. Appendix in Edinburgh Scotland

In our last episode, Sunday night, after getting back from Stonehenge, we had dinner and I, feeling poorly in the tum and tired, went to bed.

Monday - About 2:30 in the am, I woke up with such severe pain and cramping as I’d never had before, except for when I had gall bladder attacks, of course those were 11 years ago. Without getting too graphic, they were the types of cramps that make you go sit on the toilet because you feel like you have to do something, but you don’t have anything to do, but you sit there praying that something will come out, even if it’s the creature from Alien, just to ease the pain. Of course nothing does. So then you start popping pain medication, whatever is on hand, just praying that it’ll knock you out so you can go to sleep. Sleep never came, or at least not for long. I’d maybe get 30 minutes to an hour in then I’d be back crying/praying on the toilet. Enough of that… fade to the morning.

We woke up and the pain was still there, so we decided we needed to investigate a local hospital. At work we have this weird travel accident emergency coverage, and they were a big help in finding a hospital and getting us to the right place. Holly called a taxi and we were off.

Of course, the UK has socialized medicine. There won’t be any political discussion about the pros and cons here, my long term readers know that I’m not that deep. However, occasionally I may point out something… and it may be a socialized medicine thing, or it may be an England thing, but…so I sign in and sit and wait for my name to be called. It is, by the "A&E Nurse" whose sole purpose it to evaluate me to see if I’m dying and need to see a doctor now, or if I have a broken bone and, presumably get an x-ray now, or if my name goes on the list to see the doctor and I’ll have to wait about 4 hours. Fortunately, I think, by the time my name was called, the pain had eased. I don’t know what had happened, maybe the drugs had finally kicked in, but… so we decided to leave and if it got worse to come back. The four hour wait just to tell the doctor that it didn’t hurt anymore didn’t hold the appeal one might think. So another taxi ride back to the apartment – I felt foolish for dragging everyone to the hospital for nothing. I went to bed and Mom, Holly, and Haley went out to do some sight seeing as it was our last day in England.

I slept and then got up and laid on the couch and, finding that England’s daytime TV is as bad as American daytime TV, dozed until they got home. They made dinner and I nibbled a little, making this another day where I’d eaten much less than the 9 oz I’m supposed to eat each day, and went to bed with more drugs.

Tuesday – Tuesday was the day we were to leave the apartment, find a train and travel to Edinburgh, Scotland, where we’d stay for a couple of days before flying home on Friday. I woke up with pain, but it wasn’t the all-abdomen-encompassing pain from before, but localized more in the lower right region. Never having been very sure where the appendix was, I was more concerned that it was a burst cyst on an ovary or that alien baby thing. But I managed to get my morning shake down along with some eggs and more drugs and we made it to the tube, then to the train, and were off on our 4 hour ride to Edinburgh. I wish I could say I enjoyed it. The sights out the window were very pretty and had I felt better I might have dug out the camera… actually, I’m thinking maybe someone did. Hmmm.. I nibbled a little lunch and tried to drink as much water as possible having had it drilled into my head that dehydration would be BAD for me with my tiny tummy. But mostly I tried to snooze.

We arrived, found a taxi and got to the hotel. I took a shower and crawled into bed. They went to dinner, brought me back some, which I nibbled and tried to go to sleep. However by now the pain was much worse and I was feverish. So we’re up and on our way to the hospital again! The guy at the front desk called us a taxi and Mom and Holly and I were off. Unfortunately, our hotel was like as far from the hospital as possible! But we arrived at the Royal Infirmary University Medical School Hospital. We walked in the A&E area and it was so full I almost wept, but turned out all of those people were here with the patients who were in another area. Still about 10 people, but made me feel better about the possible wait. And it quickly became obvious they were doing it on a triage basis rather than first come first serve which, in my mind, bode well. It was a little over an hour before I saw a doctor, but the Tylenol PM I’d taken had kicked in and I only really hurt when I moved or someone poked me in the tum, I tried to avoid both and the wait was bearable. I’m not sure that’s spelled right.

My doctor, Dr. Hunter is/was a true dreamboat, sort of a MacDreamy. Had I not been sick, I might have attempted to sneak a pic of him with my phone. As it was, I just kick myself for not doing it when I had the chance. He was the first of many who started poking my tum – declared it an appendix and called for a surgeon to come poke on my tum. She duly showed up, poked on my tum and agreed, most likely appendix, but they’d have to admit me and let Mrs. Gillis decide how to proceed in the morning.

At this point, I should point out that although technically they speak English up here, it is so fast and with such a thick accent, I generally get about 40% of what they’re saying the first time around. Choosing items from a menu is fun, too, as I was soon to learn.

I wasn’t sure who Mrs. Gillis was, but I got that they were going to admit me, give me something for the horrible nauseau and pain, and they’d do something in the morning. So about 1am-ish, I got settled in my room. Mom and Holly were able to go home and get some rest.

Wednesday – My first real day in a Scottish hospital. First thing I noticed was that there doesn’t appear to be a division of labor among the nurses. I may be wrong, but using my most recent experience in comparision, at St. Vincent’s certain nurses brought me meds, certain one got me drinks, and no nurses changed my bed linens, that was like a tech or something. Here the same nurses do it all. Also, no private, or even semi-private rooms. You’re in a "ward" of four people… think like in Harry Potter only without the pretty view. Well, actually I have a nice view, we must be on the 2nd or 3rd floor looking over the parking lot, but of course all I can see from my bed is blue sky, fluffy clouds and tree tops. The tea trolley shows up first – I was on no food or drink by mouth, which was fine as I hadn’t eaten much over the past several days. My roomies all got tea. Then a few minutes later the breakfast trolley rolls thru with porridge, rice krispies and corn flakes – again nothing I could eat even if I wanted or was allowed.

About 9:45, we meet the infamous Mrs. Gillis. Turns out she’s the dean of surgery at this medical school and she has a gaggle of doctors and nurses following her and writing down everything she says. Sort of like House only prettier and nicer… although I do like House a lot. She pokes around on me and agrees it’s appendix and says to get me a CT scan and then we’ll see what we see, but odds are, surgery will be today or this evening. So, 9:45, right? Everybody says it’s appendix, right? These things burst and get infected goo all over the place and cause problems, right? So, being an American with an American mind-set, I’m thinking probably by 11am for the CT. Nope. They came and got me at 3:15 pm. I had been on the list and had to wait my turn. The only people who didn’t have to wait were emergencies coming through the A&E. Sigh. Anyway, we got the CT. Everyone was relieved to see, yep, it’s the appendix, and Mrs. Gillis comes back to say surgery tonight, probably about in 3 hours… it was 5:30-6 at that point.
Then the anesthesiologiest comes to talk to me and I said something about going HOME on Friday and he and the nurse both agreed that airlines won’t fly you after having surgery in under 2-3 weeks, and that’s only IF the surgery is "keyhole" or laproscopic. If it’s the full blown surgery, it’s more like 5-6 weeks. OH, MY FREAKING LORD! I don’t want to be stuck here in Scotland for 3-6 weeks! The tears flew freely at that point because I wanted nothing more than to go home!

So Mom, Holly and Haley left for dinner, knowing it would be about 3 hours until they come and take me to surgery, and about 15 minutes later, they come to take me to surgery. I was like "what about the two gall bladders ahead of me??" because by now I knew that if there’d been a hang nail ahead of me it was going ahead of me.

Post-op – I remember someone telling me there’d been a "wee nick" in my appendix. I remember mom giving me a smooch. Then nothing.

Thursday – I wake up, in pain, thirsty, and my mouth is dry. Oh, and by the way, that "wee nick" in my appendix meant that it had burst. No one will give me anything to drink until Mrs. Gillis comes through to say it’s ok. Understood, but I was on no food and drink because I was having surgery. Now that I’ve had surgery, and I’m dying of thirst, give me something to drink!! Mrs. Gillis came through, finally about 9:15 and said yes food and drink as tolerated and a dietician would come see me to see what, if anything, could be done to help met my special nutritional needs. (Note: 48 hours later, I’m writing this and I still haven’t seen the nutritionist.) Mrs. Gillis did say that I would be able to fly after a week and that she’d write a letter to the airline okaying my travel.

Those of you who’ve read my blog for a while, will remember my crying on the toilet after my bypass surgery and my thinking it had to do with the pain and my trying not to take much pain meds..? Well, you know me, can’t teach a dumb Rose tricks. My theory is and has always been that I am too poor to risk becoming a drug addict, so I tried not to ask for much medicine. And here I was in pain, in a foreign land, with strangers seeing my butt everytime I went to the bathroom because no one in Scotland is big and they don’t have large gowns to cover my butt, and we were (are) in the hottest room in the hospital on a day that it’s a glorious 70 something outside, my mommy hadn’t called (she had, but no one told me that) and hadn’t shown up (yes, I knew visiting hours techincally didn’t start until 3, but…), so I was feeling alone and unloved and wanted my mommy. I was never so happy to see her as when she walked in. There’s just something that having your mommy by your side does for you that pain meds can’t. They’d spent all day contacting the airlines about changing Mom, mine, and Holly’s flights, and finding us someplace to stay as Thursday night was the last night at the hotel – which was fine, because it was like $40 round trip to and from the hospital.

Mom got me some more drugs and I felt much better.

Friday – more of the same, not being shy about asking for meds, feeling better except for the changing from laying down to sitting up position and the sitting up to standing positions – your average post-op. When Holly and Mom got here, they’d seen Haley off to the airport, gotten us checked out of the hotel and moved into a residence hall on the campus of the University of Edinburgh where we’ll stay until we fly out on Thursday. While they were downstairs eating dinner, they were reading the brochure on this odd machine each patient has that you can buy for 5 pounds a day access to the "Telly", films, and the internet. So when they came back up, while I was showering and getting into my cookie monster night shirt, Holly was signing me up… the internet being the big draw, as the TV here was crappy and the films aren’t that great.
After Mom and Holly left for their dorm rooms, I sat here and s-l-o-w-l-y tapped out an email to the few people whose email addresses I was sure I could remember. I swear it’s so horribly slow it almost isn’t worth it, but at least peoples were able to hear from my fingertips that I was alive, if in pain.

Well, it’s Saturday morning now, and I don’t foresee today or tomorrow being much different, other than the excitement at meal times, so this’ll be it for this blog entry. Holly tell’s me that there is internet access at the dorm, so we might figure out how to get this posted, otherwise, when we get to Indy. Mom and I’ll probably stay Friday at Holly’s house then come back down on Saturday.

Day 6 - But WHY Did the Aliens Do It?

Sunday we took the train to Salisbury to see Stonehenge. I'm afraid that my blog regarding Stonehenge will not be up to my usual witty style. For one thing, like the Grand Canyon is a big hole in the ground, Stonehenge is a bunch of rocks. And I was in the beginnings of my appendix issues, I was horribly nauseaous, thirsty, hot, and weak. But I'll do my best.

I can say that the day was beautiful and Stonehenge, up on a hill as it is, had the most wonderful breezes blowing around it. We again had the audio tour guide thingees which told us all about the three separate sets of rings which make up Stonehenge and the peoples who were responsible for the building of each of them. One thing which the audio did not give full disclosure regarding was the aliens who really built it and their motivations.

Of course we had the poor timing of missing the biggest day of the year Stonehenge-wise, which was June 21st, the summer solstice a/k/a longest day of the year. On that day, according to the guide book, they let people get up close and personal amongst the stones. Much like in Diana Gabaldon's time travel epic, Outlander, I just know that if I'd been there on that day and been able to roam amongst the stones, I know I'd have hit my head on something and when I woke up I'd be in another time with the highlander of my dreams... although now that I'm thinking about it, maybe she wasn't at Stonehenge... it isn't in Scotland. Hmm... I'm going to have to reread those things, aren't I? Sigh...

Well, sorry about the lack of content in this blog entry, so I'll try to make up for it with some more pics....

Day 5 - Windsor Castle

Saturday morning, the plan was to take the train, on the first day of our 4-day rail pass, up to Windsor Castle. It was a beautiful day. The sky blue and the clouds fluffy.

Before setting off on the tube, we all followed the Barger Family Motto and used the facilities in the underground station. I was very impressed by the cleanliness and the fact that it was one of those toilets you think of as English. Here's a pic...

Then we rode the tube to the train station and got on. Very exciting, and comfy. We'd gotten first class tickets on the advice of some friends, and were pleased that we had. The only thing about the train ride that I didn't like was that it was over too soon. We had to ride the train for about 15 minutes, get off at another station, and get on another train for 15 minutes or so to get to Windsor. Each time we'd get comfy, it was time to switch again. But this made me look forward to our upcoming trip to Edinburgh.

We got to the train station about lunch time, so we decided to have lunch at the cafe in the station before venturing forth to the Castle. This cafe was the world's slowest restaurant. I'm pretty sure I saw the Guinness people at the table beside us taking notes. But while we waited to be served, to get our food, to get the bill, etc., the crowd was treated to some Morris dancing, an English folk dance, by some local groups.

We went to the Castle and got equipped with our audio tour telephone thingees and started the tour. The first place we saw, because it would be closing soon, was the cathedral. Photography was not allowed, but I, rebel that I am, snapped a couple of pics. This was, after all, where Chuck married Camilla.

Much like when you go to the White House you only get to see six rooms, we only got to see a small portion of the Castle, but what we saw was pretty impressive. Again, no air conditioning - or at least very ineffective air conditioning.

Mom insists that while she and I were sitting cooling off while waiting for Haley and Holly to find a restroom, that she saw a car with Kate riding in it. And I suppose it's possible, as the next day, in the paper, it showed pictures of Kate and William at Windsor awarding military medals/honors to a bunch of British soldiers who'd just returned from Afghanistan.

After seeing what we could see and visiting the ubiquitous gift shoppes, we trotted down the street to find a pub that some woman had recommended to Haley as being not just your usual touristy place. Well, she had that right! Picture this, an English pub, named Two Brewers. Outside, a bunch of people having a pint, enjoying the beautiful evening. When we get inside and look at the menu, instead of steak and kidney pie (which I really wasn't interested in anyway), we find out that the chef is Spanish and cooks in the tapas style - meaning small portions, appetizer like. AND the chef is the one who comes and takes our order, serves the food, and provides a bit of kibitzing along the way! A very enjoyable experience.

After dinner, we made our way back to the station, the underground and then home. I was pooped, I showered and went to bed. Tomorrow, after all, is another day.

Day 4 - Palaces, Parks and Fountains... Oh, My!

Friday's itenerary started out with us travelling to Kensington Palace. Kensington Palace is the place where Princess Diana lived post-divorce, and where William and Kate will have an apartment for when they are in London. No, we didn't see either of them while we were there. In fact, we didn't see a lot of it, because again, part of it was under construction. However, what we

did see was pretty fantastic. The gardens were amazing and I could just imagine taking a book, a lawn chair, and my drink out there and spending hours... on a cooler day. The day we were there was rather warmish... in the 80's. I know, I know... you all were sweltering in the 90's on the same day, but for London, this was rather hot!

The tour for Kensington Palace was not your usual guided tour filled with historic bits of info and such. Actually, being a fan of historic bits and such, I would have preferred that. But, what they had set up was a search for 7 Princesses who'd lived in the Palace and while you roamed from room to room to figure out the names of the princesses, you could read info on plaques and such about the princesses. Unfortunately, the rooms were too darkly lit for my myopic monocles to make out the info. Plus I was hot and sweating. I don't know if it was just me (and the impending feverish frenzy into which my vacation would spiral) or if it was the weather and the fact that the Palace just wasn't air conditioned to my preferences, but...

We had lunch at the Orangery - which was a beautiful building, built on the Palace grounds, for some Queen, used as a green house. It was at the Orangery that we had "Tea". Well, I had parts of a chicken wrap and some lemonade, but Haley, Mom and Holly shared the tiny finger sandwiches and tea and a dessert consisting of a huge baked meringue, raspberries, and cream. I stupidly didn't think to take a picture of it until after it had all been scarfed down. So I took a picture of the dessert counter as we left instead.

After spending the morning and lunch at Kensington Palace, we next walked through Hyde Park toward the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain and then ultimately on to Buckingham Palace. Along the way, we walked around a HUGE pond, or lake, or I'm not sure what, and there were tons of ducks, geese, and other miscellaneous birds. They were all very friendly, posing for pics. The birds that really struck my fancy were solid black except for the Phantom of the Opera masks they wore on their face. We took a pic of them with the intention of asking Tom (the brother-in-law who knows birds, fowl and fair) what they were. We'll see if Tom can hang on to his title by identifying this bird/duck.

After leaving the pond/lake thing, we continued along the path toward the Diana Fountain. Let me just say that it was a long stinking way from where we were to this fountain. Sigh... My dogs were barking... well, not as much as they could have been had I not be wearing my good Sketchers, but still... my puppies were tiring fast... and then there was the heat. I may have lost 60-ish pounds at that point, but I still had (have) quite a bit more to mislay.

Anywho, as we continued to wander, Holly and I came across the Royal Albert Hall. Although we got a picture, we did not have time to investigate how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall. Mostly because we had to get to this fountain or die trying.

After getting somewhat lost-ish, and asking for directions, we finally found the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain. It was not like your average fountain, but a concrete circle on which water flowed. According to the sign at the entrance, they wanted the design to be open to all, much like the Princess. After I got over my initial what the?, I liked it. Again, I could see myself sitting on a blankie, with a book and big ol'glass of iced tea (not very British, I know) and relaxing on the grounds around it.

After a short rest at the fountain, we continued our journey to Buckingham Palace. By the end of the day, I was close to not giving a damn, but knew I'd regret not going to see it. So we continued on.

Once we got there, though, the Queen's standard was flying, which meant she was home (or at least in town) and we couldn't see anything other than what we could see through the gates. However, it was very impressive and picturesque. I'm glad we made it.. but then we had to make it back to the apartment before passing out.

We made it, in fact, once we got on the tube to ride back, we got a bit of energy back, we decided to give the other Chinese restaurant between the station and the apartment a try for dinner. At this restaurant, I ordered my beloved chicken in garlic sauce which, in the States, comes with onions, mushrooms, celery, and water chestnuts along with the chicken in said garlic sauce. Not at this restaurant. I got a piece of chicken, white breast meat, in garlic sauce. It was good, and since I couldn't eat much of the veggies anyway, it was fine, but I still missed my crunchy veggies.

After dinner, Holly and Haley went on to hit the internet cafe and Mom and I headed home. I took a shower and hit the bed. To sleep, perchance to dream, of the exciting adventures the next day held for us..zzzzz...zz..zzz..zzz

Day 3 - Off With Their Heads! (and My Feet!)

The plan for the day was to go see the Tower of London. Going into it, I thought the Tower of London was A tower. But no, the Tower is a whole complex of smaller buildings (towers), surrounded by an outer wall. It was a lovely day and we started out going through the old castle which had been built by a father/son set of kings a l-o-n-g time ago and made it to the area where Henry VIII kept his prisoners. We got to see the crown jewels (no photography allowed). And then we had lunch in the cafeteria there.

After lunch, Holly and Haley took the camera and trekked through the "White Tower", so named because they would white-wash it every so often back in the day, and Mom and I found a bench in the sun and enjoyed the breeze. From our vantage point, we were able to see the changing of the guard (yes, I know, not THE changing of the guard, but fun to watch nonetheless!)

After an enjoyable morning and early afternoon, we finished up by getting a close-up view of the London Bridge. Now, THE London Bridge is somewhere in Arizona, of course, but this bridge looked good too. Had there been an elevator, Mom and I would have been game to go to the top and see the sights, but by this time, both of us were pooped.

Fortunately, the next item on the day's agenda was to catch a cruise up and down the Thames River to see London from that vantage point. We boarded our boat and since the weather was nippy, but not too bad, we rode the trip up the river (or maybe it was down... I get confused about that type of stuff) on the top of the boat. The trip included the comedy stylings of the first mate. He was cute and funny, so we gave him a nice tip.

We rode the boat down/up to Greenwich and since we had time before the last boat back, we got off and meandered around. Specifically, we meandered up the world's largest hill to get to the Royal Observatory so we could stand on the Prime Meridian and have a foot in both the Eastern and Western Hemispheres. I say this is the world's largest hill because I'm pretty sure that the bulk of the 15-ish pounds I lost while on this trip were lost going up the hill. Going down the hill was no picnic either, it was so steep you had to be careful not to pick up too much momentum lest inertia just carry you away! This picture is of the downhill trek, to give you an idea of the incline.

For dinner, we were too tired to make anything, so we stopped at the first of two Chinese places on the street between the flat and the underground station. It certainly was not Yen Ching, but it wasn't too bad. After dinner, we managed to get ourselves back to the flat and put our feet up to plan the next day's adventures.

Day 2 - The Game is Afoot!

Wednesday morning in London - despite the time difference, Rose is awake about 6-ish. Really that's not too bad, though, gets me into the shower first, and gives me time to chug my protein shake and get my daily pills down before it is time to venture forth.

The plan for today was to find our way to the Baker Street tube station and then go to Madame Tussauds. Of course, as a lover of mystery novels, if we'd been a little closer to 221B Baker Street, I'd have liked to go take a picture. Although I've been told that it is just a residence. However, at one of the platforms at the Baker Street station, there was a silhouette of Sherlock Holmes in the tiles. Unfortunately it was several levels below where we were, so Holly and Haley agreed to run down there and get a pic or two! Now, outside of the Baker Street station, there was a Sherlock Holmes statue. He looked very, uh.. detective-like. :)

Anywho, as we walked to Madame Tussauds', we passed several souvenir shops and I purchased myself a pair of socks with the British flag on them and an umbrella (it was raining).

Having purchased our tickets the day before, we did not have to stand outside in the rain to wait our turns to enter Madame Tussauds. We did find some telephone boxes for a quick photo op, though!

We met a big group of famous people at the exhibit. Holly got her pic taken with the man of her dreams, Zach Efron. Haley and Patrick Stewart were rather chatty. Brangelina was over in the corner. In addition to a variety of celebrities, there were political figures, including Henry VIII - Haley was concerned about her neck when she was talking to him!

Holly and I had the opportunity to hang with J.T., something that I know will make everyone at work jealous!

After chatting with the pretty people, we took the opportunity to find shelter from the rain and ate at a deli-type establishment named Arizona's. Holly and Haley had the fish and chips. I took a small bite to see what it was all about, and frankly, it tasted like Mrs. Paul's. Mom told me to order whatever sounded good to me. So I got us a burger and chips. The burger was not like an American burger and DUH! the chips were french fries, not the chips that I'd anticipated. However, the burger did come with a couple of tomato and cucumber slices, so I was able to eat some burger and fresh veggies.

After lunch, we hopped back on the tube and rode it to King's Cross Station to check out Platform 9 3/4 of Harry Potter fame. Ok, well, unfortunately, since so much of London is old, a big part of it is under construction/remodeling. And Platform 9 3/4 was blocked off. I was bummed, but tired, so I got over it quickly. One thing we encountered was a pay toilet. You had to pay 30p to use the restroom. Fortunately, there was a change machine right there because I had tons of coins, but none of it amounted to the correct amount. I've managed to live 42 years, but this is the first pay toilet for Rose! There was a set of scales there, too. Although frankly, I think they were the kind that give your horoscope. And I was tempted to step on them to see how much weight I'd lost trotting around London the past two days, but I figured it would pop out in metric, and I'm not good on the whole metric/non-metric conversion thing, so I kept my change.

After our adventures in King's Cross, we went to go check out Harrod's - the BIG department store where you HAVE to go. Well, we went, but I must say that everything was incredibly overpriced - for example, Mom and I went to the cafe inside and her Pepsi (made with real sugar, BTW, not the fake stuff she's used to) was 4 pounds and 25p. My bottle of water (in a real glass bottle) was 4 pounds 50p. That's about a $7 bottle of water, there. The one part that I did want to see was the memorial that Dodi Al Feyad 's father had put up for him and Diana. A little cheesy, but not near as cheesy as the statues of both of them near one of the exits.

When we left Harrods, we decided to head back to the flat and grab something at the little shop a couple of blocks away for dinner. The big winning item was the butter - it was pretty good, but I could only have a small nibble. Whereas the other three had several pieces of bread slathered with butter.

Holly and Haley had discovered an internet cafe and, since the wifi wasn't working, so after dinner, they trotted down there to check email, etc. I took a shower and went to bed.