Disney(R) Princess(TM) Castle Security

No one could ever successfully break into my apartment. I realized that this morning as I tried to quietly get ready for my day in the dark. Here’s what would happen: you’d put on your dark clothes and black knit hat like a proper robber. You’d pick the lock and enter our apartment. Immediately you’d trip over a mountain of Disney(R) Princess(TM) dolls, and land on the Disney(R) Princess(TM) piano, which would start playing “Be Our Guest” at top screeching volume. At this point my daughter will wake up, and demand you give her juice. You will look in the fridge for juice, but there will be no juice because we’re always running out of juice. So to keep her quiet you let her braid your hair. As she stabs your head with plastic Disney(R) Princess(TM) barrettes, she’ll ask you a barrage of questions designed to make you go completely insane, including things like “does my hair have bones?” and “why are you wearing all black and no pink?” and “why don’t we have any juice?” At this point you’ll run screaming from the apartment…if you can get out at all.

But it doesn’t matter, because we don’t have nice things. So we’ll never be burgled.

Unless you really want Disney(R) Princess(TM) toys and accessories, in which case you don’t need to break in – just pull up your car and honk and we’ll happily help load it up.

CCFA Ad Campaign + New (to me) Blog

What do you think of the CCFA’s current ad campaign? It centers around the bathroom as essentially a jail for people with Crohn’s & UC. I think it’s one of the few times an IBD organization has really faced the embarrassing truth around what IBD is really all about and I have to give them kudos. Especially because several friends emailed me photos of the campaign when they saw it and just felt compelled to send them to me. It’s a good sign when a campaign is shareable.

escapethestall-300x300

I noticed Blood, Poop & Tears had a little something to say about it too: http://www.bloodpooptears.com/the-ccfa-ad-campaign-aint-no-party-like-a-butt-hurt-party/

Nov. 14

This week marked the due date for the baby I miscarried earlier this year. Pretty grim, I know. I’m doing really well in terms of getting past what happened, but couldn’t help but be hyper-aware of this date.

 

It just so happened I developed a huge cold this week and spent the day in bed (working, thanks to my laptop and awesomely flexible boss) but feeling snotty and nasty and cough-y and gross. It was a welcome distraction.

 

I can’t help but think how different life would be right now if things didn’t happen that way, and if we had a teeny new baby in the apartment right now. I know it wasn’t right somehow, I know that we will have another baby sometime, and if we can’t then we’ll adopt one. But it’s also just so important to me that I take the time to stop and remember this little baby that DID have a heartbeat and was my baby even only for a few weeks.

No Way. NO WAY. No Way.

So, as I posted the other day, I’m getting creeped out by having to exercise outside in the dark, even though I live in a safe neighborhood. I was wishing that my apartment building was fancier with a gym inside, because then I could exercise inside without even having to step outside. Even one treadmill would be nice.

So this morning I decided instead of going outside I’d do my speed walking in the building’s basement. It’s a really large building, and even though we’ve lived there a year I’ve still not explored all of it. I was hoping that doing laps in the basement would be interesting, and would definitely be warmer and less comfortable than going outside. Imagine my complete and utter surprise this morning when I turned the corner on lap one to find an exercise room. NO WAY. Seriously. An exercise room. It’s nothing fancy, in fact it’s part of one of the laundry rooms, but it has two treadmills and an eliptical trainer. No way! I am saved!

Barking Dog Shoes

During one of several conversations with Chronic Babe (aka Jenni) at ePatient Connections, our convo turned to shoes. This happens whenevver women converse for more than 10 minutes, or so I believe based on years of experience. Since my Crohn’s manifests in joint pain and because my hips are chronically out of whack, I need to wear comfortable flats, despite the fact that my inner badass would rather be in 6-inch Laboutin stillettoes. Jenni’s shoes were adorable AND looked comfortable, and she highly recommended her friend’s site Barking Dog Shoes. Holy moly, this place is a relevation.

They’ve got answers for any type of foot problem (although it seems to just be for women, sorry guys.) They try out and recommend brands. What a fantastic resource.

It’s Getting Dark in Here

Since the PT said I can start exercising again, I’ve been going out again in the morning. All summer long, 5:15 a.m. was a joy – the sun was rising, it was the perfect temperature. Now, not so much. It’s cooler and so dark that I’m too creeped out to use my ipod, even though we live in a totally save neighborhood. I’m getting nervous about keeping up with this through the winter, when it’s icy outside and my bed is still nice and warm.

Physical Therapy

I lurve my physical therapist. Luuurve.

I was able to get an appointment immediately, because I’ve gone in the past. After my daughter was born, my hips were out of whack. (It’s not easy having a ginormous baby on my tiny frame. Or any frame. Anyway.)

This PT specializes in women, and was able to get me back on track last time. This time around, I’m already having the same positive experience. It’s a different therapist, but it’s the same – caring, capable.

She told me my knee issue is actually my hip issue all over again. She said I need to keep doing my hip exercises for life (I’d kept on for a few years but evenually stopped.)  And most importantly, she told me I WILL be able to run again. Hip hip hooray!

So I’ll be going weekly for a while, as she adjusts and manipulates and basically turns me from a NYC pretzel into a Philly pretzel.  Until then, I’ve started with power walking. Not nearly as therapeutic as running, but better than nothing.

Image from Walgreens.com

Oh and I get to wear a snazzy knee brace while I do it. It’s uncomfortable, but on the plus side it makes me look like even more of a dork keeps me from injuring myself more.