The State Of My Buns

There are two things that I like about my new thyroid medication (which is totally a misnomer because I don't have a problem with my thyroid). It has two side effects (two that I read about with great interest, anyway). They are:

Increased appetite
Weight loss

Brilliant! All my life I've waited for this combination. I'm envisioning less treadmill time and lots of full fat lattes. No more fat-free scones from Peet's, either. Pizza? Bring it. Oh wait, we did. Tonight. Soda, too.

On the flip side, Ben had a new line for me today; one that I found a little disconcerting:

"Mommy, you have cuddly buns."

Now, my buns have been called a lot of things but "cuddly" isn't one of them. "Cuddly" makes me think of J. Lo (before she get all ripped with her triathlete training). "Cuddly" is an adjective one might use when asked: "Does it look like I'm gaining weight? "No dear, you look cuddly." (Which would drive me straight to Atkin's and marathon training.)

"Cuddly"- in the derriere department - is not svelte, it is not sleek, it is not good.

Granted, Ben is going through a phase called "being a male" which will likely last his entire life and he is obsessed with "the buns" (and the toilet). I have much more to say about this phase - and its downfalls - in my next post (which is all queued up and ready to go but I'm slightly terrified to hit the "Publish" key for fear of losing all 12 of my readers).

Given Ben's personality, I'm entirely certain that any day now, a note will be coming home from the teacher with some sort of reference to "cuddly buns." He's already taken to "petting L's silky hair when she isn't looking." Next, it's a bun cuddle.

I have three thoughts on this:

1. I'm glad we're closing in on the end of the year.

2. Clearly, he is is dad's boy.

3. Forget the meds. I need to get back to Spinning.

Carrying On

At last, I saw my endocrinologist this morning. At 6:45am. Yeah, he's a workaholic or just plain crazy and after this morning's visit, I'm kinda leaning toward crazy. I'd already been warned about his bedside manner, or lack thereof. But still, it's always a little surprising to me when I encounter doctors who are so wrapped up in their rhetoric that it seems as if the patient, as a person, is totally forgotten.

Nevertheless, the long and short of the appointment was this: my lab results are still pending. After eight days. In the age of modern technology, all I can think is that those must be some pretty sophisticated tests.

The doctor did display a brief show of sympathy by noting that I obviously didn't feel well (not that he asked - the down coat which I was huddled under, despite the downright balmy temperature of the office, must have been a great indicator) and that we needed a short-term solution.

Of course the mystery is still unsolved in that my thyroid appears to be doing its job quite well but there are such decreasing levels of T3 and T4, even my blood pressure is remarkably low. In an effort to bring up T3 and T4, I am starting a high dose of thyroxine, which is a synthetic hormone. The thyroxine takes weeks and months to reach a therapeutic level if I can even tolerate the stuff. "It might make you jittery," the doctor warned. "Anxious, too."

Oh goody.

We will re-convene, the doctor and I, when the lab work is in. I expect that I will know before then whether or not the thyroxine might be a good solution for the short-term.

Thankfully, after a few weeks of calorie restriction, the weight gain seems to have stopped and I'm sliding back into "normal" range and back into my jeans, too. Dieting sucks though. I really hate it.

There is still a strong possibility that my pituitary gland is to blame for the absence of hormones, but for now, I'm glad to have a lifeline in the thyroxine.

Monday Musings

My thoughts today were swirly and more random than my six-year-old on a basketful of Easter candy. In fact, my morning sessions with clients went something like this:

"Drop your tailbone, please, and... pick up an organic chicken from the farmer's market this weekend."

"Big inhale, prepare and...when is the next baseball game anyway? That damn Little League is running our lives!"

"Rotate from your core and...what am I going to do with Ben this weekend? No Little League game? Damn. Gotta find some long and tiring activities."

I think you get the point.

So, here I am in my "free time window;" that is, the chunk of highly coveted time between Ben going to bed and calling out to me at 6am. Or 6:30am if I'm lucky. And my thoughts are still ping-ponging. Time to download...

THERE ARE 22 SWEATERS IN MY CLOSET
Most of you know that I suffer from a serious obsession with my clothes. I think it's getting out of control. Granted, I do a ton of secondhand shopping but really...I'm at the point where I could outfit all of Carmichael and parts of Fair Oaks too. My friend had a clothing swap this weekend. We all brought clothes to share and left with "new" things. I found some amazing pieces. Two enormous bags worth. Which is all well and good except for the fact that I don't have the space or the lifestyle to have as many clothes as Paris Hilton. My closet is seriously this big. I figured out the problem today: I have too many clothes and not enough occasions. To wear all this stuff, I'd need to become a socialite. Or date one. Neither of which is looking to be an optimistic prospect.

ACCUMULATING (GREAT) WINE
I have the same problem with wine as I do with clothes. Right now, I have at least 2 cases of really yummy reds and whites and no occasions to consume it. I keep telling myself that this "break" from a social life is short-lived; that I'm only temporarily side-lined from all the fun, Spring activities and that I could potentially have all my energy back - and then some - by the time the real fun kicks in over summer. Which brings me to my next point...

LAST MINUTE INVITES TO LAKE-SIDE HOME IN TAHOE
4:30pm on Saturday. Beep, beep. New text alert. Fun client/friend and her friends are headed to amazing home in Tahoe and I'll be kidnapped in an hour, returned the following evening. The last time I went on an outing with this group, I was hungover for a week. Had to decline - since I have Ben for 2 weeks - and beg for a future invite. They sent me a photo from the boat doc, cold beers in hand. What. a. view.

DIY NUTRITION
I talked with a nutritionist today about getting some thyroid support. I wanted to like her. I really did. But I didn't and here's why. She told me I need to go on a NO CARB DIET. To which I replied, "I don't have a weight problem. I have a THYROID problem." She explained that I have too much "toxicity" and that by weighing my lettuce and eating chicken and almonds, I could restore my body's balance. "Yes, well," I said, "my body might get balanced that way but giving up carbs (and wine and coffee, I might add) would cause a serious chemical imbalance in my head." So I went to the internet and began to research myself. Seems that the Zone diet- which is low carb - is all the rage for thyroid issues. I like Zone bars. Do those count?

LOSING MY MOJO
I had a string of bad dates. Really bad dates. The kind of date where the guy is convinced that I should re-consider my stance on not having any more kids. "Because you don't even look 39," he says. "And I could totally support you!" Did I mention that this was the first date? So I bowed out of the whole scene for awhile, intent on focusing my attention on myself. And my wardrobe. I was in Whole Foods last week and a good looking guy began to flirt with me. In a really creative way, I might add. Normally, I'd have a fast and cute comeback; that day, I stood there and as Ben would say, "I was out of words." Upon realizing that I was most likely a cute girl with absolutely zero personality, the guy made a beeline for the register as I stood there wondering if I should chase him down with a business card or slink off toward the produce section. I went and found some good strawberries. But seriously, what the H? Maybe it's this:

APATHY
One of the top symptoms of thyroid disorder is apathy. Don't laugh. It's true! Even the Mayo Clinic says so. I knew that apathy had truly set in when I realized that Don Draper has been sitting - and waiting - in my living room for over a week. My beloved Don Draper of Mad Men. I was so excited for Season 3 to release and now poor Don has to wait for me to shore up some passion for his quick wit, his intensity and oh, that strong and sexy jawline! I've made him wait for days. Appalling. I wonder if I'd do the same to Hank Moody.

MY 6-YEAR-OLD IS DOING DISGUSTING THINGS
Ben has come into the age of poop. And butt. Also butt-h***, which got him a big thump on the head. He started calling me Mamma-Mia a couple of months ago. Which was really cute. Now it's morphed into "PooPoo-Pia" which is slightly less endearing. I will elaborate on this - and a particular horrific bathroom incident - in a future post. You may want to skip that one.

ONE NIGHT IN BANGKOK
My ex, as I mentioned earlier, is in Thailand. He was moved out of Bangkok sooner than planned due to pre-cautions taken by the tour company. Yes, he is on a tour. Yes, he is in his 40s and most of the other travelers are seniors. Yes, he is traveling alone. No, I do not know why he went there. Yes, he does in fact work. Anyway, he hasn't been able to call much because I think they've moved around more than planned but he has sent quite a few emails. I sometimes wonder if it's weird that we're on such good terms. He can go off and send me a daily email with all the details of his day and I reply - to most - with the details of Ben's day. I think it helps him to feel more connected to Ben. I'm glad for that. But it still feels strange.

TWO WEEKS IN SAC
I have Ben for a 16 day stint. He is pretty excited about being with me. Likewise for me. Although the weekends can be hard. I was exhausted yesterday afternoon but I had a big - and completely irrational - case of mommy guilt. Ben had gone to a birthday party without me in the morning and was carrying on about how bored he was in the afternoon. I offered up some suggestions: movie, swimming, or miniature golf. He chose golf. We played 18 holes with Sacramento's finest families (seriously, where do these people come from? the F bomb is NOT okay at mini golf!). 18 holes was the most cardio I've had in a month except for clothes shopping. As a reward for the golf "death march", I bought the extra large Sierra Mist. Ben's eyes widened with surprise. I'm sure the nutritionist would have some things to say about that choice. Now I'm staring down another weekend. I think my dad's due for some bonding time with Ben.

BOTOX CLINICAL STUDY
After carefully studying the lines on my face this morning, I decided that if there is ever a Botox "volunteer" opportunity anywhere in Northern California, I'm tossing my name in the hat. Enough said.

NO HAYSTACK FOR YOU
I had to go to training on how to run the concession stand at Little League. Stop laughing. A Shift Supervisor gets double hours; thus, less time in the Snack Bar. Sounded good to me. I went to an orientation last week. I learned how to make nachos (pull the lever and smother with cheese), serve tri-tip, hamburgers and hot dogs (find a guy to man the BBQ), make popcorn (best to say "we're out" instead of attacking that machine) and run the register (for the love of God, please let someone else take this task). I also learned how to make a "haystack." The supervisor explained: "Take a bowl of Fritos, cover them with a scoop of chili, then top with nacho cheese sauce." "Got it?" she asked. "Wait," I said. "You lost me at Fritos." She looked me up and down and then said, "Yeah, you don't look like the type who would eat a Haystack." But that got me thinking tonight. Take away the Fritos and you have a no-carb-Haystack. Most logical line of thinking I've had all day long. I'm just saying...

Here Is The Truth; This Is What I Know...

I was walking on the beach with Emma. It was cold and very foggy. She let go of my hand. I stopped to photograph a baby seal, then glanced up toward the Great Highway. When I looked up, Emma was gone.

Do you want to know what happens to Emma? So did I. Which is why I bought the book, "The Year of Fog." And why I finished it in two days. And why I hugged Ben a little tighter when he came home from Maui with his dad - and "the girlfriend."

Imagine my surprise - and sheer delight - when I noticed that Michelle Richmond, author of "The Year of Fog" posted a comment on my previous blog. Cool! Except that I wish I had said something different about her book, other than my warning to any mother of a 6-year-old who might consider reading it.

So Michelle, if you will grant me a do-over, I will tell you this:

I liked your book very much and I loved your writing. Yes, the story line - a child, who happens to be six-and-a-half, disappears while in the care of her father's girlfriend - is a bit daunting for obvious reasons: I have a child who is six-and-a-half, I have an ex-husband who has, on occasion, left my child in the care of his girlfriend and I have lived in San Francisco and can visualize almost every landmark and neighborhood that you reference. I've even been to Costa Rica, to the small town where the story eventually leads to. I felt like I've been Abby, "the girlfriend," in a couple of dating scenarios; situations where I knew that the father trusted me implicitly with his children, yet I also knew that was taking on enormous responsibility just by taking the kids to ice cream or by picking them up from school. These scenarios still play out heavily in my mind as I imagine myself as a stepmother, possibly, in the future. Indeed, Michelle, your beautiful book hit me on many different levels.

And that's the thing about a great book. You walk away from the story, but the characters stay with you. Sometimes they haunt you. In a way, Abby, "the girlfriend," is doing that to me now, even though I've finished two books since reading "The Year of Fog." I could see so much likeness: our age, our values, our commitment to relationships, our willingness to take on and love a child that isn't biologically ours. I kept putting myself in Abby's shoes and I could only shudder and wonder: "What if it were me?" Yes, Michelle, you had me at the first chapter. I loved Abby.

I also loved Nick. Certainly you must have based his character off of a real person. I think you created all the elements of a near-perfect gentleman. Is he in San Francisco? Where can I find him? Better yet, send him right over!

For several months now, I've been toying with the idea of pulling my book club back together and sharing the great experience of reading with my good friends. I'm thrilled to have such a fabulous author to share; maybe Michelle will make the short drive to Sac-town and share her extraordinary self with some of us.

In the meantime, thanks for posting, Michelle!

Reading and reading and reading and reading and reading

Since T3 and T4 hormones have officially "left the building," I'm left on most days with a heating pad and a couple of sweaters, a wool blanket and a stack of books. The diagnosis coincided with my ex's 16 day tour of Thailand, which essentially means that my mom is on shift with Ben every day after I wrap up my morning sessions with clients.

This is a new thing for me; this laying around and relying heavily on other people to help with daily activities, particularly those that involve Ben. I understand very much that it's a time of being in limbo, a time to wait patiently on my doctor, to wait on the technicians who are generating results and image slides, to wait for the next appointment, the next test. I'm waiting on 40 and I'm waiting on an outcome. I might be getting used to waiting.

What's helping is this stack of books that I've collected for a few months now. I've always loved to read but after my divorce, I went through a long, long period where I couldn't focus on characters, story lines, or words. Sometime in the last year, I fell back into the literary world. Maybe the blogging had something to do with it.

In any event, I've discovered two tremendous authors - Lisa See and Kelly Corrigan - who are definitely book club worthy. Kelly Corrigan is my new heroine; I want to go to San Francisco and have a long lunch with her. I know I'd need a whole box of tissues because I would simultaneously laugh and cry my eyes out. She's THAT amazing.

In the last month, I've also read "The Alchemist" (finally!), "The Mommy Wars" (sad commentary on our expectations of mothers), "The Reliable Wife" (fabulously racy and entertaining) and "The Year of Fog" (no mother of a six-year-old should attempt this).

Realistically, I'm probably looking at more couch time and less gym time in the next few weeks. Please send me any book suggestions you might have. A good read definitely beats scouring the internet for pituitary information! It's also a little more rewarding than Facebook or People.com. But I still make time for those too!

Is It All In My Head?

After battling six weeks of fighting extreme fatigue, a gushing nose, constant lethargy, and weight gain that happened so quickly that not one pair of pants will fit, I finally have some answers. I blamed my thyroid initially - seemed like a good culprit - but I've come to find out that it's all, quite likely, in my head.

My fabulous doctor who I pay big bucks to see agreed to run blood tests. I went to the lab and then went to my sister's in the Bay Area. That night - at 8pm - my doctor called me. (I was at the Pleasanton TJ Maxx, shopping for bigger yoga pants - sigh.). She said that my thyroid was fine but that my T3 and T4 levels were abnormally low. Way out of range. Low enough to be flagged by the lab tech. She encouraged me to rest, and to call her when I came back to Sacramento.

When I came home, I felt worse. The pants that I had bought were no longer fitting and it had only been 4 days. Remember the movie, "Shallow Hal?" I felt like Gwyneth Paltrow in the fat suit. A total stranger in my own body. It's a horrible feeling.

Because I have a PPO that I pay dearly for, I was able to find an endocrinologist who would see me without a referral. As luck would have it, he saw me at 7:30am the day after I called. Dr. C - I've come to find out - is highly reputable in the endocrinology field. And almost impossible to get into. "You had an angel on your shoulder when you called his office," my own doctor remarked, upon hearing that I had an immediate appointment with him.

Dr C did a full exam and then he spent some time talking with me. "Your pituitary gland isn't talking to your thyroid gland," he told me. I don't like confrontation and I guess my glands don't, either. "You're not making enough of the hormones that you need for energy or metabolism." He went on to tell me that the pituitary gland is likely diseased. He used the word "tumor."

I left his office with referral slips for more lab work, an ultrasound and a MRI. Dr C doesn't mess around. A nurse client of mine said, "Do you know how lucky you are to have all this happening so quickly? " And that's how I feel: incredibly fortunate to have the system moving swiftly and in my favor.

Treatment options for pituitary disease are all over the map, depending on the outcome of the MRI. I'm really not afraid at all; just anxious to have a treatment plan that will be effective in getting me back on track.

In the meantime, I gave up all my group classes so that I can concentrate on saving my best energy for my private clients and for Ben. The hardest decision was whether or not to suck it up and keep Wednesday nights at the club. It's one of the happiest hours of my work week; when 25 to 30 of my favorite people come together to practice yoga. I've been with them for almost three years. My director promised to step in temporarily and I can come back when I'm better, however long that takes.

I bagged a meeting for Little League tonight. Driving 45 minutes plus - in each direction - and an hour and a half of concession talk just didn't fit in with my body's plans for energy expenditure. Lying on the couch with Ben, reading books and watching youtub, did.

It is likely that I may not exercise for a long time. I thought about it today. It got bagged too. So not like me. Maybe I'll try for a walk tomorrow.

There is too much information on the internet. I've stopped reading. Too many unknowns. One thing I did learn is that coconut oil is extremely beneficial for the thyroid. I bought a jar of the good, good stuff. I mix a lot of it into my oatmeal and in my smoothies each day. I feel like I've discovered the world's greatest treat.

I need some help with my diet. There are foods that suppress the thyroid - like green, leafy vegetables. There are foods that help the thyroid. I don't know where the pituitary gland fits in and how to support it, from a nutrition standpoint.

Yesterday, I went to my favorite second hand store and spent $78.00 for a whole new spring wardrobe. Nothing from last year fits. I hit Target and got a new swim suit, too (because I just cannot buy one secondhand, NO WAY). I still refuse to sit on the side of the pool while Ben splashes around and begs for me to come in. The two piece days may be over, but that's OK.

So now the process has begun. I had my ultrasound today. Lab tomorrow morning. MRI will be scheduled soon. Back to see Dr C. Then, the answers that I'm desperately wanting.

I called my best friend after the ultrasound today. "Ultrasound - check" I told her. "It takes a lot of licks to get to the center of the lollipop," she replied.

Indeed, it does. And while this might not be very easy - this hostile stand-off between my glands - my life - the lollipop - is still pretty darn sweet.

Wordless Wednesday

I'm borrowing my friends' post title again because I am, again, wordless...

I have an explanation for my tired, draggy, sluggish, and heavy state of being. It's called hypothyroidism. My lab work came back, my doctor called me, and I'm off to see an endocrinologist.

What's interesting to me is that I've spent most of my adult life downplaying the role of the thyroid. I think people, in general, often suspect their thyroid as a cause for weight gain. I think it's also often used as a scapegoat for weight gain and as a deterrent for weight loss. I think that if you've never had a thyroid issue, you should never underestimate how crappy an underachieving thyroid can make you feel. Lesson learned.

I also learned that its almost impossible to get an endocrinologist to see you without a referral. Even with a PPO. I learned that cruciferous vegetables and soy products can suppress the thyroid and that selenium can help to restore its function. Tomorrow morning, I'll learn more about my own solutions, both in the short and long term.

Although I still feel like I'm in a perpetual and cloudy haze, it's nice to know that there is a reason that I've felt so bad lately. And the fact that it's treatable, makes me all the more optimistic that some clarity and focus will return again very soon. Wish me luck.

Yet Another Reason to Live Vicariously Through Yours Truly

Yeah, I know...sometimes it seems like I live a glamorous life of half-time mommy and full-time single girl. There are the dates, the last minute cocktails with friends, the day trips of wine tasting, the travels...blah blah blah.

But what I really appreciate - when my son is away- are those simple moments of sleeping past 6am, or sitting down to back-to-back Netflix deliveries, or even starting a huge house project and actually finishing it with no interruptions (except to change musical artists on last.com).

This post is not about the pure (emphasis on the word "pure") and sweetness of my life as a single, suburbia mommy. In fact, Dad, stop reading right here. Please. You'll regret it if you go further. Fine, don't say I didn't warn you.

Last week, I got an invitation through Facebook from an old...um, let's call him an acquaintance. Someone I met several years ago. At a retreat. That I went to with my husband at the time. His idea. Let's call it an intimacy retreat. I'll let you use your imagination. What happened at the retreat may not have been on the "up and up" in my book, but rest assured, some of the people who I met there were not so naked weird and I actually kept in touch with a few. By keeping in touch, I mean that we are Facebook friends which doesn't really count as truly keeping in touch. And yes, I did stay fully clothed throughout the weekend.

I sincerely hope that my Dad has stopped reading. Oh well.

So the invitation from this acquaintance comes through on my email and I happened to be on the treadmill at the time which is dangerous but efficient whilst "Facebooking" and as I read the details of the event, I had to hit the Emergency Stop button to keep from falling off. Here is what it said:

Erotic dinner and party in very elegant historic San Francisco home with hardwood floors, grand piano and erotic art collection. Come dressed with class as your favorite fetish: dom, sub. freak, business man, prostitute, Cinderella, slave, master, nurse, doctor, policeman, judge, prisoner, psycho, French maid, priest, doormat, invasive parent, etc. Please go for it and express full-out ! No limits on your fantasy.

No sneakers in the building please. Please bring toys and attributes if appropriate for your persona and bring a beverage/bottle of wine/juice/ other. Delicious Food will be prepared and served.

There is no agenda or specific limit regarding the erotic play part. Whatever happens happens. Everything is a choice and everyone is at choice about every experience. This is a conscious respectful environment.

Obviously not your normal Evite invitation, but wait, this is Facebook and anything goes. Nevertheless, a few things stand out here - at least from my perception:

• No sneakers in the building? But whips are OK?
• Elegant historic San Francisco home happens to be located in Pacific Heights. So let's say I plan on going and choose to dress as a prostitute as my sexual fetish. It's not exactly around October 31st and I'm not much in the mood to be arrested...perhaps French Maid would be a better selection?
  
• A doormat? Really? How fun is that?
  
• No agenda or specific limit regarding the erotic play part? What erotic play part? Is the piano somehow involved? Because why else would it be mentioned? I'm just saying. Really, I thought we were going to eat oysters, sip champagne, laugh at each other's costumes and ogle the erotic art. Maybe there would be some lovely piano music? Again, why else mention the piano? Which brings me to my next point...
• Is it just me or does the post read like a real estate ad? Hardwood floors, elegant, historic? I don't know about you but I need to know what kind of floors I'm going to be standing on before I can RSVP to a party. Carpet? Forget it. And lighting is critical. I simply can't attend a home party if they don't use CFLs. No freakin' way. Don't invite me to a party in a dive either - it's elegance or nothing, same for post-modern - deal breaker, for sure! I'm all about things being nice. And old.
  

I checked the RSVP list on Facebook. You know, because if you want to know anything about the attendees for a Facebook event, it's all there, in plain view. And now I understand clearly: they're all females.

Now my dad can let out a huge sigh of relief (if he's still reading which I undoubtedly assume that he is) because I won't be going to the party. Not that it doesn't sound like an entertaining way to spend my Friday night but if you read my last post, you'll know that I'm on recess right now and whilst on recess, I refuse to commit to anything that requires a lot of effort and I don't see how dressing up as a dominatrix, driving to the city, chatting with people who I don't know and potentially off unwanted sexual advances as the cocktails flow into the "erotic play" portion of the evening could be very relaxing or restorative.

Not that being a dominatrix is very suiting to me, by the way. Just for the record.

Ben Is Going to Maui and I'm Going to...Sleep?

Ben is off to Maui with his dad tomorrow. I know. He JUST came home from Italy. The charmed life of a six-year-old. What can I say except for...

If he comes home with jet lag and pneumonia, there will be hell to pay!

We've had two weeks of unstructured spring break time and I'm happy to have a little time to decompress from single mommy-ing. Actually, I'm pretty darned relieved because after ingesting the poison, I mean, medication for migraines last month, I still haven't found my way out of the fog.

I saw my doctor about it. She ordered up a full run of lab tests to see if the medication might have kicked my thyroid out of commission or depleted my kidneys of their ability to flush toxins. I'm THAT tired.

Looking at my schedule, I noticed that there were some opportunities to take time off after Ben left. At first I tried to talk myself out of it. But by this morning, when I hauled myself out of bed, only to put a movie on for Ben and go BACK to bed - on a weekday, no less - I knew that I needed to do this. I'm THAT tired.

We had a full day together - Ben and I. A friend took him to Bounce Town this morning while I worked. I picked him up and we went to the aquarium. Then to feed the ducks at the park. Then to Peet's (because at 2pm, I was THAT tired), then to my doctor. The doctor walked in. "You look exhausted," she said. "Really?" I asked. "I put on eyeliner and curled my eyelashes. Are you saying that I didn't need to?"

And then it was back to work for me. My clients said, "Ohhhh, time off? You must be going for more training!" "Well, no," I said. "I need a little rest, I think." One of the clients looked right at me. "Do you think?!" she retorted. Am I THAT tired in front of my clients?

I think that sometimes it's good to take a little time off with no expectations or plans. No promises or commitments. I told myself that I would do exactly would I would like with this time, as the moment dictated - without any "shoulds" (as in - should find a major house project to attack) or "coulds" (could take three pilates classes each day and drive to the city for yoga at least once). None of that.

A teacher friend of mine recently took a month off from teaching and called it her recess. I like that. In fact, I hear the bell ringing right now...

The Dark Side of Medication

I blogged over here today:

http://luscious-ness.blogspot.com/

I'm directing you there because I think it's an important topic. And because I think that we can all learn from eachother's experiences.

Wish I could say "April Fool's" on this topic, but I can't.

In good health,
janeen.